Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story.

THANK YOU for all for the reviews, favourites and follows. Remember Hermione is writing fantasies and stories, they are not supposed to be realistic or particularly historically accurate. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

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II. The Inquisition is Coming

Draco watched the Gryffindor Golden Girl closely for the next several days, wondering exactly what it was that had made him dream about her so explicitly. It was uncanny; the detail and intensity of the encounter. He could not think of a time in real life where he had felt so sated and complete as he did just from that one dream with her; and what about the situation? Their clothes alone would be counted as by far and away the weirdest subliminal fantasy he had ever been involved in, let alone the richness of the details of the back story to the dream. 'Ravenclaw was actually teaching us! And I was staff training with Slytherin himself!'

Despite going over the dream in detail every night, he did not experience the sub-conscious encounter again. It was certainly fuelling his conscious fantasies though! In the three days since, he had wanked more often than when he first discovered the appendage between his thighs was designed for a much more pleasurable use than just pissing.

His examination of the pretty brunette did nothing to enlighten him as to his sudden, seemingly unwarranted attraction. Yes, they had been cordial to one another this year, friendly one could even say. There was still a schism between them though. She was the Brains of the Golden Trio, Gryffindor's Princess and a witch all but declared untouchable by the male population. Why, there was even talk that her engagement to Ron Weasley would be announced any day now. Who was he? An ex-Death Eater currently on strict probation and with only a slim hope that he may be able to hold his head up in decent society again one day. She was in fact one of the only students that acknowledged him on a regular basis—her, Longbottom, the She-Weasley and Looney Lovegood! A member of the Golden Trio and the three that had been dubbed the Silver Trio due to their actions in the school last year were the only ones willing to give him the time of day.

'It's just because she is the only one you find even remotely attractive that is willing to talk to you,' he told himself firmly. That had to be it. Because there was no way he could start falling for the highly intelligent, brilliant, beautiful Hermione Granger. No way.

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It was late on Friday night. Hermione had excused herself from the impromptu party being held in the common room and headed up to her dormitory. Her muse it seemed had come to visit and demanded her presence immediately. Hermione did not mind, she had had enough of the noise and merriment for one evening. She settled herself into her bed with her journal and pen. She quickly read over what she had written the previous week, smiling wickedly as she bit her bottom lip. 'Whew, that got me going a bit again. I think Malfoy might play another starring role tonight,' she thought. 'Maybe I'll even dream it again.' Her smile turned into a smirk at that thought. She closed her eyes and let inspiration wash over her. An idea formed and she took some time to plot the scenario out in her mind before putting pen to paper.

When will I learn not to be so stubborn? 'Stay at the castle,' they said. 'It's dangerous for our kind out there,' they told me. Did I listen? No, of course I didn't. If there was a charm that could rid me of this wilful, stubborn streak of mine I would employ it in a second. It is for this reason, and none other, that I now find myself sequestered in a dingy cellar below a concealed trap door in the dead of winter with Draco Malfoy of all people!

The Inquisition has come. For months everyone said it would and there was a slow migration of our kind north. Oh yes, some said there was nothing to worry about—a freeze-flame charm and everything would be as right as rain. But then they introduced the rack. There is no charm, potion or counter-spell to stop the ravages of being tortured with that instrument. We all saw McLaggen when he was burned at the stake following weeks of interrogation on the rack. He had no energy left for a freeze-flame charm! Just imagine if the muggles had been more aware of the sudden disappearance of people in the square that day… I've never seen so many witches and wizards in a true panic like that before.

But of course, even then I stubbornly hung on to the idea that I would be safe. I would be cleverer than any so-called witch hunter that tried to capture me. Some traitorous wizard was assisting the Inquisitors—an anti-apparition jinx had been cast over the city of London so escape was almost impossible. If it wasn't for the Ashtons taking me in, I don't know what I would have done. Tavington was literally yards away from me—how I managed to seek shelter in the one doorway that concealed a sympathetic family of Squibs who were willing to help me, I'll never know. The door opened and I was pulled inside. The man of the house lied to Tavington's face about my whereabouts while I hid under a pile of blankets, willing myself to stay as still as a statue. As soon as the captain left I was brought to the cellar where he was already hiding.

It's been six days now. Food and drink is lowered twice a day and we know that three sharp thumps on the floor above mean we must immediately extinguish the candles and be completely silent. I have heard soldiers on a daily basis demanding if the occupants of the house are harbouring any criminals and late last night I heard Tavington again. I was shaking so badly that he gathered me into his arms and held me tightly, breathing sounds and words of comfort into my ear to calm me down. His hot breath only served to work me up though and ever since, all I can remember is feeling the security of his embrace and the way the hot air from his mouth felt against the sensitive skin of my neck and ear. I almost found myself hoping Tavington would return tonight, just so I could relive the experience again.

I have been attracted to Draco Malfoy ever since I observed him riding a Pegasus about the Hogwarts grounds one afternoon during our sixth year of study. He looked like a God on that magnificent beast—the way he sat his saddle and controlled the wild stallion brought a flutter to many a girl's heart that day, none more than mine though. I began to surreptitiously observe him any chance I got. It was not much—he was in Slytherin and I was in Gryffindor after all so it was only in a few classes and at meal times that I was able to get a glimpse of him and I had to be especially careful that my housemates did not see my regard.

But oh, how handsome was this wizard? I don't believe there was a single man in that castle who could compare—his angelic blond hair, Nordic in its lustre and, I'm sure, soft to the touch; his beautiful, perfect face and strong, virile body. I resigned myself to the fact that I would only ever be destined to look at the aristocratic young man, my father's status as a mere squire put paid to any hope of a dalliance, let alone a romance, between us. Spending nearly a week in such close quarters with him has been torture! No, not torture… I should not be flippant when I know what real torture is out there waiting for me should Tavington capture me, but it is a trial nevertheless.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Malfoy immediately douses the tiny, flickering flame and seeks my hand in the darkness. My heart is beating so fast it is a wonder he cannot hear it. Voices filter in from above. Not Tavington this time, but the soldiers are here in his name.

'We know Mistress Granger was seen in these streets last week! Where is she? Her neighbour accused her of witchcraft. You and yours have been sympathetic to the plight of these heathens in the past. Captain Tavington knows she and Sir Draco have gone to ground in these parts and they will be found! This is your last warning!'

'We know of no witchcraft, sir. We are not sympathetic to the heathens; they will rot in hell for going against the teachings of our glorious church. You may take apart this house brick by brick, plank by plank and I swear by God, you will find none here but those who are faithful to our Father and wish to see all witches burning.'

'Just know that you will suffer the same fate should you be found harbouring those who practice the deceitful and hedonistic rites of demon worshipping.'

There is silence but for the heavy footfalls of boot-clad feet on the floorboards above. Mr Ashton is surely going to tell us to leave—we are endangering his family. All we can hear for many minutes is the light scuffling of the family as they go about their business. Finally there are two sharp taps on the trapdoor and it is opened, the face of Mr Ashton visible in the light from above.

Malfoy relights the candle in our hideaway and takes the bread, meat and ale that is passed down.

'You will remain here another four nights,' Mr Ashton whispers to us. 'My brother will arrive on the following morn and provide you with a portkey to Hogsmeade. Once there—ssh! They're coming back!' I hastily snubbed the candle again as Mr Ashton dropped the trapdoor down quietly. Malfoy stuffed the food and drink into an empty box. 'Captain Tavington, may the Lord bless and keep you, sir.'

A whimper threatens to leave my mouth but I resolutely keep silent. I can feel my body start to shake again and Malfoy silently lowers me to the pallet I have been sleeping on, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close again.

'I assure you, the good Lord blesses me above all others, Ashton,' the cultured voice of Tavington reaches our ears. 'What are you keeping in your cellar?'

'Just dried meat, my lord, and a stash of ale… would you like to take a look?' Mr Ashton offers. Malfoy stiffens behind me and tightens his hold on me even further.

'It is my experience that men who offer for me to look in their cellar are hiding the most in there,' Tavington taunts. I suddenly feel a tap on my head, and a feeling like cold water running down my body. Malfoy has cast a disillusionment charm. I grasp his arms and hold him tight as the light from above floods down into the cellar. I can see the cold eyes of the Inquisitor and dredge up every ounce of will to move not an inch from the position I am in.

'I do hide my gold in there as well, my lord. I pray you would not find that as it means I have not hidden it well,' Mr Ashton jokes. I can see him in the background. There is not even a flicker of emotion on his face that would give us away. Tavington peers down into the gloom, staring directly at us for what seems like an eternity but is in reality only a few moments before he stands up and drops the trapdoor back into place.

'My men have warned you what to expect should we find these heathens on your premises. You would do well to remember that.'

'Of course, Captain Tavington, you may rest assured I would report the presence of any practitioners of witchcraft to you immediately.'

'See that you do.' The sound of heavy footsteps crosses the floor above us and we hear the door slam shut. We know there will be no further visit from Mr Ashton tonight and Malfoy cancels the disillusionment charm on us. The feeling of utter relief that flows through my body leaves me feeling weak. I turn my head into the blanket and begin to sob, I am overwrought and Malfoy just continues to hold me. I feel him begin to rock me gently as I cry; he turns me so I am facing him and cradles my head against his chest. For several minutes I cling to his robes and allow the terror and distress of my situation flow out of me through my eyes and soak the fine brocade of his apparel.

'It is all right, Mistress Granger,' he whispers, his voice barely able to be heard. 'You are safe here with me, I will let nothing happen to you, this I vow.' He repeats his promise over and over until I am calm again. Light is filtering in from above through the cracks in the floorboards and a few small holes here and there. I can just make out his features in the dim light as I look up into his eyes. For the first time, it seems, he is returning my regard with his own. His arms are still tight around me and my hands are sandwiched between our chests. I flex my fingers against the hard planes and feel him shiver at my touch. Our faces are so close that our breaths are mingling as we exhale.

Without warning, he lowers his face and presses his lips firmly against mine, brushing them and coaxing a response from me, a response I all too willingly give. I would not have thought it possible but his arms tighten around me even more and he turns me onto my back, only letting go when I am lying prone beneath him, his legs trapping mine and his upper body pressed against me oh-so-deliciously. He has not stopped kissing me this entire time, I feel as though I have drunk an entire tankard of ale.

He pulls away from me and I cannot help the whimper of distress I make. I feel rather than hear the chuckle rumbling deep within his chest. 'Little One, are you perhaps enjoying my attentions?' he asks. I can do nothing but nod. He leans his face down and whispers in my ear. 'What of more—carnal—attentions? Would you object if I were to kiss you…here?' I shake my head as he places kisses from my ear, all the way down the column of my neck, stopping only at the edge of my robe. Staring deep into my eyes, he gently tugs on the bow of the ribbon holding the bodice of my dress together. As he sees no sign of disapproval in my eyes, he pulls on the tag, the ribbon sliding easily through the fastenings until it comes out completely. The two pieces fall to the sides heedlessly, exposing my heaving bosom to the cold, night air—and his intense gaze. My nipples harden immediately and he lowers his mouth to one of them, sucking it between his lips and laving his tongue over the hard, dusky rose flesh.

I cannot help but gasp at the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. I had previously had a summer dalliance with a peasant's son so the feeling was not foreign to me. Boldly, I traced my hand down his front to grasp his hardened member through his britches. Upon doing so, his actions turned almost frantic. He hiked my dress up around my waist and easily removed my undergarments. He pulled down his britches only far enough to free his trapped erection before plunging it into me with one fell thrust. It took every ounce of consciousness left in me not to groan out loud at the feeling of him stretching me so deliciously but I knew the sounds would carry through the boards above us and to the ears of the Ashtons.

Our coupling was hard and fast. He thrust into me over and over, going much deeper than the peasant's son ever had and brushing against something in me that was sending waves of desire throughout my entire body. I did not know how much longer I could go teetering on the edge of this precipice of pure bliss until with one thrust, I was pushed off and pleasure such as I had never known tore through every nerve ending on my body. I buried my face into his chest as a primal scream rose from deep within me. Luckily no sound louder than a whimper was heard. The continued pulsing of my tight channel must have been too much for him as only a weak thrust or two later, I could feel his man-fluid explode into me and he collapsed heavily onto my body, grunting his pleasure and kissing my neck where he had fallen.

We lay as such for several minutes until nothing but darkness surrounded us. Silently, we separated and redressed as best we could in the dark. I thought he would retreat back to the pallet he had been sleeping on but he gathered me close in his arms before dropping off to sleep.

Suddenly, the next four nights of waiting did not seem such a hardship.

Hermione capped her pen and settled back to read over what she had written. She smiled and even laughed in places. 'My mind truly came out with some cliché's tonight!' she thought. Still, the exercise had served its purpose and she was feeling quite relaxed and languid now. She slipped the journal into her bedside table and warded it as usual before settling down amongst her blankets for sleep. Her last conscious thought was to wonder if she would dream her scenario again like last time.

With her eyes closed in slumber, she again had no inkling of the journal glowing and three strands of light this time emerging, one laying itself against her temple and the other two flying out of the room as though caught on a breeze. Her face contorted slightly while she dreamt until a blissful, peaceful smile graced her countenance.

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Down in the dungeons, Draco Malfoy again woke in a tangle of wetted sheets and breathing heavily.

"That was fucking insane," he said to the silent room.

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Poor Draco, his mind is being messed with, isn't it? I hope you liked this chapter.