The Quarter Moon Gamble: PART FOUR
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Two days before the next quarter moon and a week before Christmas, Hermione was packing when she realized Draco still had several of her books. She had gone to get them from him before, several times. Somehow, she always ended up distracted. She knew he had them. But she tried to convince herself she didn't need them, didn't need him. Now she had grown desperate. She needed him to talk to her, a simple word in his ear.
His voice when he spoke whispering in her ear, the way he stared at her with cold gray eyes that made her blush and turn away, his smile a devilish taunt at her desire…
She slammed shut her trunk and stormed out of Gryffindor, trying to convince herself she wasn't running to him all the while. But before she could even find the stairs, Harry came running towards her gleefully. "Come on, Hermione! We won the first game against Slytherin!"
Her eyes showed slight defeat and she refused to move, even as Harry tugged at her sleeve for them to celebrate back at the common room. Her mind drifted elsewhere, to Slytherin. She didn't feel any allegiance to them. She couldn't care less that they lost. Instead, her thoughts went to Draco. He'd be angry, most likely. Now was not the best time to speak with him of such silly things.
But Harry noticed her reluctance, her absent eyes. He looked to where she was headed and smiled to himself, letting go of her sleeve and saying, "You know I think the Slytherins are still in the locker room. He wasn't on his best game today. Something was bothering him. Feel like taking care of that?"
Hermione smiled back and gave him a kiss on the cheek before running for the Quidditch field.
She knew she probably wouldn't be allowed inside the pitch but she had to at least try. She had to get this off her conscience. Her mind kept replaying how she was going to tell him, but everything seemed so stupid. Her heart beat like a rumba dance, an ugly one with Hungarian horntails in goofy red dresses stomping around in her darkest atriums.
Before she could snap out of her demented fantasy, she was stopped by a group of sinister looking Slytherins just outside the bleachers of the stadium.
"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood. Lost, are you?" one of them said. She didn't care who. She was too busy looking to see if Draco was among them but he wasn't. Her breathing turned shallow, her shivering, bare hand instinctively going for her wand.
"Let me by," she said through gritted teeth, looking them straight in the eye.
"You're the reason we lost, you know?" another one said in the back.
"It's not my fault you couldn't pass a quaffle to save your life," she scoffed. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to patronize the scary Slytherins trying to eat her alive.
A tall blonde in the front narrowed his eyes at her and moved closer. She didn't run away, didn't retreat… simply stiffened. He was so close to her, looking down at her with menacing eyes. She knew her hand was shaking around her wand as she brought it up slowly. She didn't know if the rest of her was shaking as well, but her fear was suppressed in every pore.
"Leave her!" a voice came from behind the group of Slytherins. They all parted for a figure in a dark hood and Quidditch-wear holding a broom. Hermione's eyes were still cornered by the tall blonde's and didn't see who the figure was, merely heard a whispering coming closer, like chanting.
Fear crept like a shadow into the blonde's eyes and he gulped, and in a single step, moved aside for the dark figure to reach her. "Draco…" she heard herself murmur breathlessly. And then the figure smiled and lifted its hood, revealing a lush head of flaxen hair. She felt her lungs empty but refused to breathe. Somehow, it felt so relieving.
"One of these days, you're going to get yourself killed and I'm not going to be there," Draco said, concerned.
She sighed greatly and whispered, "You son of a bitch."
"Now, now… Come on," he said and slipped his hand in hers and led into the Quidditch field, right to the center. He mounted his broom and extended his hand for her to retake and mount beside him. But she didn't. She merely stared at him, her hands by her side.
"What did you do to them? What did you say?"
"Nothing for you to worry yourself with, darling."
"That's why you didn't care if people knew about us. You have the Slytherins in your pocket. Draco, that's Dark magic!" He smirked and she gasped, stepping back. "I knew it!"
"Hermione, can it be Dark if I use it for good?"
She didn't say anything, merely looked at him crossly.
"Come with me," he whispered, drawing closer to her. His eyes pleaded for her to come to him. She wondered if she had been under his spell too. Could he really read her mind?
"No," she said reluctantly.
"Hermione…" he began but she raised a hand and cut him off.
"No, I don't like to fly," she finished.
He smiled and extended his hand again, his gaze reassuring. She looked back, to where or why she didn't know, and took his hand, mounting behind him.
"Go slow," she whispered in his ear. He smirked and pushed off. "Where are we going?"
Her hands slid around his stomach and gripped as her feet left the ground. He could have sworn he heard a whimper from her direction but he just smiled to himself and sped up, her grip tightening. The harder she pulled them together, the more he smelled her hair… the more he remembered late-night swims and kisses in the common room.
Dear God, let me think of nuns. Nuns, peas, really horrible wallpaper, he thought. Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts…
Hermione felt him tense up and loosened her grip, smirking against his back. One of the hands he was using to grip the broom came to the one of hers on his waist and she blushed. Before she knew it, they had caught the sunset. Owls seemed to want to bombard them en masse and she shrieked as one flew by her arm.
"Draco! Where are we going?" she yelled. But they had landed and she was standing beside him. "The aviary?"
He nodded.
"Are we sending a letter?"
He gave a sharp laugh. "No, darling. Tell me: Why do wizards use owls and not pigeons?"
She knew why but decided to enlighten him and shrugged. He smiled and pointed out into the sunset. Flying towards them, among all the hooting owls, flew a pigeon, a white/gray pigeon that landed on Draco's arm. Its lines seemed so graceful compared to the pudgy, feathery owls.
She caressed its head lightly and smiled up at Draco. "You use a pigeon?" she asked disbelievingly.
"No, don't be silly. I sent this to you. My father sent one to my mother their final year, so she'd know it was from him. Now they haven't had the greatest marriage. I blame mostly my father. But once, they had romance, and I've grown to think even a moment of romance erases everything else," he said, taking the note caringly from the pigeon's leg and setting it down on one of the owl poles. He unrolled it and Hermione gasped as she saw what it was: she and Draco kneeling on the floor of the Gryffindor common room with her hands upon his face, his upon her waist, and they were kissing… vigorously.
"The photograph?" she asked. "You were sending it to me?"
"I never meant to turn it in, Hermione."
There was a pause for thoughtful silence, all except the gentle rustling of wings around them. "I… I was…" she began.
"Don't worry. I'll leave you be, if you wish. I just thought you should have that. I couldn't keep it… it'd just-" he interrupted but cut himself off and looked away, his hair covering his eyes.
"Would you stop?" she said in a small voice. "I know you're just doing this to get back with me. And you don't have to."
He looked at her trembling hands holding the photograph. "Oh no, Hermione, are you crying?"
"I came… I came to tell you…"
"No, I don't want to hear it."
"Do I have to smack you across the face to get you to listen?" she yelled. He raised an eyebrow. "I came to tell you I'm sorry… for being afraid."
He moved closer to her and lifted her chin to face him. A tear had escaped her, she felt, and fell upon his hand. He gave a slight shiver.
"I missed you," he whispered as he did so smoothly, going to kiss her neck. But he shivered again.
"Draco, what's wrong?"
"Let's just say Angelina is a bit too handy with a bat," he groaned and moved away from her, stumbling backwards onto two stacked crates of old mail. She helped him sit down slightly and began to open his robes. "You know, this would be an extremely sexy situation if I wasn't bleeding internally."
She smiled but didn't look up at him. She could feel his eyes upon her, looking her over as he did with desire. No one had ever looked at her like that, not Ron, definitely not Harry, not even Viktor Krum. "We'll have to come back when you're better, then."
He smiled even brighter but it was soon followed by a sharp pain. Hermione had found his injury. "Help me to the infirmary, love?"
She nodded and helped him up. He had to lean on her a bit until they mounted his broom and swaggered towards the castle.
A few minutes later, Hermione entered the infirmary to find Draco without a shirt on, sitting on one of the bed with a large white bandage wrapped around his torso. Madame Pomfrey came from out of no where screaming, "Well you would have lasted longer if someone hadn't squeezed the life out of you! Seriously, what were you playing, Mr. Malfoy?"
Hermione smiled. "My fault," she said from behind the frantic nurse.
Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at the two. "Kinky little rugrats, aren't you?"
Draco started laughing so hard, he fell back on the bed, his feet dangling joyously off the side. Pomfrey looked to Hermione for an explanation but she just shrugged.
"I'll leave you then," she said and left.
Hermione sat on the bed beside Draco as he straightened up painfully. "See what you do to me?" he said, holding his side.
"Oh stop acting! I know it doesn't hurt anymore."
"Hmm."
She shifted in her seat, playing with the hem of her skirt. "Draco," she said timidly, looking away. "The Slytherins… the ones that found me outside the Quidditch field, they knew about us."
Draco gulped silently. "What do you mean?"
"One of them said it was my fault you lost. What did he mean? How much do they know?"
Draco looked away, his smile fading as quickly as it came. "God, Hermione, you couldn't let it be, could you?" he said.
"What you did to them, are you doing it to me?" she insisted.
"No, I could never!" he began. "Hermione, I'm doing that to them because of what you're doing to me! I can't stop thinking of you! I turned my back on my father for you, on my house!"
"What are you talking about?"
"You're immune! Why are you immune?" he yelled.
"Immune to what?" she yelled back.
"To me! Every other girl in the school has a certain affection, a certain attraction to me… biologically. Why don't you? I had to know if it was you."
"Draco," she said, slightly scared. "You're mad, do you know this?"
"I'm Veela, Hermione," he said, taking her hands in his.
Hermione started what looked like hyperventilating. "You… son… of… a… bitch!" she yelled in-between gasps, trying to get away but he held her hands to his.
"Would you calm down?"
"And the bet? How did it come in?"
"The Quarter Moon Gamble. It was to get you to me, bind you. I had to know if you loved me!"
"You orchestrated all that? You made me worry! You made me think they could kill you over a bloody damn photograph!" Hermione said at the top of her lungs, her voice becoming squeaky. "Wait, what you mean I'm immune? How can I be immune?"
"There's one. Only one immune to my… charms. She's my mate."
Hermione furrowed her brow and whimpered. "What like 'care for some chips, mate' or 'animal instinct, ravaging hormones, only one for me' mate?"
"Second one."
"Oh bloody hell."
Madame Pomfrey had come back just in time to see Hermione pull away, stand up, and run past her so quickly she only saw a flash in black robes run past her. She turned to Draco and said, "What was that all about?"
"She found out," he said, looking at nowhere in particular, lost in his thoughts.
"Hmm. Perhaps it's for the best. Everything's out. No secrets," she said. "Why don't you go after her?"
"Let's give her some time. If I know her, she'll be heading for the library, researching," he said with an absentminded sigh.
"And if I know women, she'll be waiting for you to go after her."
Draco furrowed his brow and looked up at the nurse. "Hmm," he said and got up off the bed, reaching for his robes and putting them on as he walked calmly yet solemnly down to the Slytherin common room. He looked to his hands. He could still feel her warmth upon him. Everywhere she touched, her perfume lingered faintly. He felt saturated by it, but still he let her breathe.
The next morning, she wasn't at breakfast. Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table and Harry and Ron were looking at him so crossly, he thought he saw a static bolt would shoot out of their eyes and smack him across the head. He shrugged, gesturing he didn't know where she was. And then it hit him. She was probably still in the library.
He got up from his seat and ran out of the Great Hall. He skidded into the library and ran to the table in the back. "I'm sorry!" he yelled, walking through the stands of books trying to find her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
But no one responded. When he got to the table in the back, he couldn't even see Hermione. She was buried behind stacks of books, asleep on the table. He sighed and went to wake her up. He wondered how he knew exactly where she was but he left it to their 'connection.'
"Hermione, wake up dear," he said, poking her. He wasn't really sure how to wake her up without something being bitten off.
She didn't open her eyes, just said groggily, "Draco, I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now."
"Yes, I know dear but we've Potions in a bit and you still haven't had breakfast."
"Are you daft? It's midnight."
"Hermione, it's 10 AM."
Her head shot up so quickly he only saw a blur of brown fuzz leave the table and now large owl eyes stared at him, wide open in fear and shock. "But… but we've Potions."
"You see my point."
She started whimpering. "You're good." He took his wand out and made her a muffin out of this air. "How'd you know I liked blueberry?"
He smirked. "I just know. Actually I was just thinking how nice a blueberry muffin would be but since I hate blueberry, I think that's what you were thinking."
"So you can hear my thoughts?"
"I know what you're feeling. I don't know about thoughts."
"Oh God, I'm gonna need a minute," she said and sat down in her chair. He pulled a chair from the table next to her, also ridden with books, and pulled it facing her. "How long have you known I was your mate?"
"Since summer when I started having strange nightmares, I knew I had found you. I didn't know it was you, per se, until I saw you on the train first day of school. I could smell you from across the room. Like flowers," he said with a gentle smile.
"Why the ruse?" she asked softly.
"I needed to know if you loved me, if I could make you love me… without magic, without crazy Veela hormones…"
"And have you, found the answer you needed I mean."
"You tell me. I wouldn't have told you the truth unless I thought even a small part of you loved me."
She looked down sadly. "I have no choice, do I? I'm bound to you. I can never have anyone else without killing you."
"See what I was trying to do with the bet?"
"Oh God, the bet! Today's the Quarter Moon!" she yelled, going to stand up.
He shushed her and smiled. "It's fine. I found a small loophole. It's not gonna kill me, but it'll definitely feel like it." She put a hand on his arm, her eyes concerned. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get a kick out of it."
She gave a small whimper and took her hand away, hiding her face in both hands and bending forward until she was resting on her knees. "I can't believe you'd go as far as getting yourself killed to find out if I loved you."
"Well if you didn't, I might as well be dead."
"Drama queen," she scoffed and raised her head from her lap.
He laughed and kissed her quickly, then got up and sighed. "Go on. Potter and Weasley were worried. I think you should go say 'Hi, I'm alive' while I go get ready for the bet."
She raised an eyebrow but nodded. He let go of her hand reluctantly and began to walk off when he turned around and said, "You know, I still don't know if this… punishment is worth is."
She furrowed her brow. "I don't know if I can answer that yet."
"Hmm. Doesn't matter, does it? I love you anyways."
He left her with a childish smile on her face, blushing cheeks, and the great desire to kiss him.
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Potions class. Day of the Quarter Moon.
Hermione sat down in her chair in Snape's dungeon and looked around. Draco still wasn't there but he was never one to come on time. He thrived on the attention.
"Have you seen Draco?" she whispered to Harry.
"Not since he went to look for you," Harry whispered back. Snape was already behind his desk, waiting for Draco it seemed. But he didn't come.
20 minutes into class, the doors of the dungeon swung open roughly. Everyone turned around and there he was.
Draco Malfoy. In nothing but socks.
He walked proudly up to Snape's desk, smiling brilliantly. Snape stood up quickly and moved back towards the board with wide open eyes.
"Hey Snapey! How's it hanging?" he said in a brash American accent, taking the professor's seat with his bare bottom.
Hermione was left stunned, mouth open, eyes wide.
"Did you know about this?" Ron asked her amid a wave of echoing laughter.
She shook her head slowly.
"Take your seat, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said through gritted teeth. Everyone was surprised at the professor's lack of outrage but he had always loved Draco.
He made his way to the Slytherins, all of whom were roaring with laughter. Even Ron and Harry were gripping their sides. But Draco looked down at her from his seat and winked. Hermione smiled back and blushed as Snape took out his wand, raised his chair in the air and set it on fire. He conjured up a new one and kept on with the lesson. Every time she looked up, she saw Draco smiling down at her, from time to time gesturing he was cold or that Snape had gone crazy.
She wrote two words on a corner of parchment and folded it into a pigeon with her wand before sending the small paper bird his way. When he opened it, he gave a sharp laugh that made those around him stare, still suppressing giggles.
"Nice socks," it said.
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