.
»»-¤-««
IX: The Star
It felt like Hermione's legs were going to fall off after all of the steps they climbed. Upon reaching the final steps, they came upon a dark, intricately crafted door which Draco pushed open with ease, revealing the brilliant navy blue sky which sparkled with evening stars. The pair walked out on to the roof of the tower. The air was harsh, nipping them with a fierce crispness, though pockets of warmth blew at Hermione invitingly. Draco took her by the hand and led her forward, slowing his pace as they came upon an area where the air stood still and warmth enveloped them. Draco waved his wand in a circle around them and Hermione gasped with surprise. It was as if she had been transported to another rooftop altogether. The dark and empty roof was now glowing with a handful of enchanted candles which radiated a pleasant, lulling heat. The light did not impose on the clear dark sky as Hermione could see the horizon of Hogwarts Castle, the Forbidden Forest, and the tranquil dark tides of the Black Lake with its glistening ripples. Draco shifted in the darkness toward a table which Hermione had hardly noticed amidst it all. On the floor near the table was an array of thick emerald blankets and fluffy silver pillows strewn atop one another.
"Draco," Hermione breathed, "it's so stunning." He smiled at her and reached for a crystal decanter full of amber liquid which he began to pour into two glass goblets. "Oh look!" she spoke excitedly, pointing down toward the dark horizon, "I think you can see some of the mermaids from here. They're fascinating."
Draco nodded. "They've been a bit restless of late. You can see them swimming through the windows in the Slytherin common room." Hermione's eyes widened with fascination at his words as he handed her a glass. The smell of the familiar spicy liquid burned her senses and flung her back into memories of their detention. She lowered herself down onto the soft surface of the blankets nearby and leaned back into the pillows with a contented sigh.
"Draco," she spoke carefully, as the reality of her setting dawned on her. It felt like she was in one of the romance novels she had indulged in once or twice. Candles, liquor, starry nights, and an attentive, charismatic man. The thought of it frayed her nerves and made her a bit anxious. Noticing her sudden shift in tone, he arched an eyebrow at her. "You're not trying to," Hermione spoke each word deliberately, "seduce me, are you?"
Draco chuckled into his glass as he took another sip. "Is that what I'm doing?" he responded coyly, slipping down to sit beside her. She bit on her bottom lip, staring as he ran his index finger slowly over the mouth of his goblet in circles.
"Well if you are," her voice was stronger now, intentionally resolute in her response, "it isn't going to work. I'm not particularly seduce-able."
"Hm, yes," he responded with a soft nod. "I would have wagered that." Hermione attempted to avoid his gaze as she stared at the midnight sky; the darkness of it made her feel as if they were entirely alone, without a soul around. "And what is it that makes you think I'm the type to bring you up here in order to seduce you?"
"I've heard rumors," she attempted to respond nonchalantly.
"Oh?" he quirked a brow at her as he topped her glass off with more Firewhiskey. Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. "What rumors?"
"You know what rumors, Draco," she huffed with impatience. There was no reason for his playing the fool. Draco Malfoy had gathered quite the reputation as the Slytherin Stud within his peer group, and words only trickled down to Hermione through her heart-broken classmates.
"They're all false," he shrugged. She glanced at him, sincerity written in his features.
"What do you mean 'they're all false'? I know several girls who have attested to being hurt by you."
"They're lying, Granger." Draco's piercing gaze was set on her, intense and clear. "They wanted something from me that I didn't want to give, and their egos were bruised. They want to make me look like the bad guy, so be it."
Hermione looked down at her glass as she swirled the contents around, biting on her lower lip in thought. "So," she paused, "what, you're an innocent virgin who hasn't hurt a soul?"
He scoffed, reaching up to wave stray strands of hair out of his face. "I wouldn't say I haven't hurt a soul, obviously, I've been a bit of a nasty prat for most of my life..." he sighed, his posture stiffening as Hermione watched his movements. "And I don't love the term 'virgin'," he continued, "Gods, I prefer the word 'selective' if I had a choice."
Hermione stared at him attempting to process this newfound image of him. Selective, not opportunistic, and not at all a womanizer she had thought he'd been. He sighed again at her reaction and placed two fingers under her chin to lift her jaw up, closing her mouth which had been hanging agape in stunned awe. "It's not a big deal, Granger, I promise."
"But what about all the Slytherin girls who fawn after you?" Hermione asked with sheer curiosity.
"What about them? I've barely been interested in any girls since coming to Hogwarts. They've mostly been annoying little girls to me." Draco took a deep drink out of the crystal glass and finished the contents of his cup. He hissed as the liquid burned while it trickled down his throat, the spicy alcohol leaving a sweet aftertaste in his mouth. "Mm. I forget how good this is," he murmured. As he glanced up to look at Hermione, he chuckled at her expression. Her brows had knit together and her lips were pursed as if she had been attempted to solve a difficult arithmetic question. "Does this bother you?" he asked, amusement attempting to mask the slightest tinge of concern. "I just didn't like any one, Hermione," his words weighed with sincerity now, and he reached to place his hand on hers, his fingers warm against her skin, "until now."
A smile appeared on Hermione's lips at his words, and she shook her head, curly hair bouncing as she did. "It doesn't bother me at all," she spoke softly, "I prefer it, actually. I'm just surprised is all. It isn't really how I had you pictured."
At that Draco chuckled and released her hand, reaching to grab one of the large, heavy blankets and pulled it over her. She moved her toes around under the thick green blanket, stretching her feet as they began to warm up.
"It isn't as uncommon as you'd think," Draco murmured absentmindedly, leaning back into the cushions and pillows as he stared up at the sky. "Many pureblood families are so afraid of tainting the bloodline that their children remain celibate until marriage - that is, marriage to another respectable, well-proven, pure bloodline."
"Sounds so impassionate," Hermione responded, scrunching her nose in distaste. "What about love?"
Hermione's stomach knotted a bit as Draco threw his head back and laughed, with a wide toothy grin and a carelessness she had not seen before. His hair had fallen back to bare his face and his pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement. She hadn't seen him so open before.
"Granger, love is a side effect to these people," he responded, still amused at the prospect of his relatives marrying merely for love. What a waste, they would say. What about alliances? Increasing their power and riches? Love was a distraction to them.
"And to you?" she asked curiously, joining him as she leaned back into the pillows, her body propped on one elbow to face him.
The worry-free smile on his face slowly faded. His forehead creased in concentration and a long sigh escaped his lips. Draco tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers as he spoke.
"I don't know," he whispered. Hermione wanted to reach over to him and hold him, bring that warmth and ease back into his features. "I've never really had the luxury to ask myself that."
Hermione shifted her weight and pulled herself closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she ran her fingers across his chest. A warm smile formed on his lips as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto her knuckles.
"I didn't mean for this to get so heavy," he apologized. She waved her free hand in dismissal.
"I don't mind," she responded, peering back up to the wide expanse of space. They both lay there quietly. Amid the darkness, a bright, long tail of a star appeared and glistened brightly across the black sky. She squinted as her gaze followed it before it burned out and disappeared into nothing. "Curious," she murmured.
Draco, who had been calmly watching her stare up in wonder, murmured, "hmm?"
"I didn't know there would be meteors today. The meteor shower isn't for a few weeks," she spoke softly, speaking almost to herself than to anyone else. The thought of meteors, however, reminded Draco of why he had brought her to the tower in the first place. He had entirely forgotten, having been distracted by their conversation and as usual, her presence.
"There is supposed to be a meteor shower?" Draco asked with sincere curiosity.
She nodded and relaxed her shoulders again, letting her eyes fall closed as she spoke. "A big one. I think that's why the spiders are disoriented. I heard Hagrid say that the centaurs are also driving themselves deeper into the forest than ever, which is unusual."
"Say, Granger," Draco spoke softly, attentive to his tone as to not appear overly invested in her answers, "do you know much about astronomy or divination?"
Hermione shook her head softly, her eyes still closed as the warm air and the heavy blanket over her legs soothed her into serenity. Draco frowned; he'd hoped that she would provide more information about the constellations, after all most of the words the centaurs used seem to refer to the sky. He kicked himself for not paying more attention to Astronomy when he had the chance.
"Well," Hermione spoke softly, "I got the highest scores in all my Astronomy classes, but advanced Astronomy began to coincide with Divination which I think is complete drivel. I've been taking Arithmancy since third year and it's a much better tool for foretelling the future and understanding the present."
"How does Arithmancy work?" Draco asked. He had hardly heard of the subject. Though he knew it was an elective at Hogwarts he didn't know anyone to take it willingly. Hermione stretched out her arms above her head and yawned widely before her eyes fluttered open and she lithely lifted herself to sit back up.
"I'll show you," she responded, reaching into her jacket's side pocket. She pulled out a folded piece of yellow parchment with a short quill which had been tucked between the crevices of the paper. Her emergency stash, in the event of impromptu note-taking. "Do you have a specific question?"
"Er," he responded. Well, sure I have a specific question, he thought. But he could not think of a way to ask her whether she was the answer to his prophecies. Whether she was going to save his life, Dumbledore's life, the fate of the world. For a moment he pondered asking her how long he has to live, for even that was an uncertainty to Draco. "No," he replied, "Nothing comes to mind."
"Alright, then," she responded, her quill quickly moving as she scribbled on the parchment. "Sometimes, that's better." Draco watched as Hermione began to write down numbers, one at a time, as if each one had significance to her. "Hmm, okay five..." she mumbled to herself, "didn't expect that... when's your birthday?"
"5th of June, 1980," he responded, attempting to peer over her shoulder as she continued to write.
Several moments passed and Draco waited in anticipation until the sound of her quill scratching against the parchment ceased.
"Okay, so," she said, pushing the paper toward him. Draco did not understand any of it. The paper read:
4 - 9 - 1 - 3 - 6 - 4 - 1 - 3 - 6 - 6 - 7 (5)
1 - 6 - 1 - 6 (5)
4 - 9 - 3 - 4 - 3 - 6 - 7 (9)
5 - 6 - 1 - 9 - 8 (2)
"There is a lot here to dive into, but the most interesting thing here is the contrast between your character and your life. Here is your life number," Hermione pointed to the number two on the bottom of the page. "And based on this your path in life is to seek balance amidst divergence. Twos are more fulfilled and whole than others, but they are still young and learning how to compromise." She spoke quickly, with passion as her eyes were alight with excitement, "But it's interesting that your character number is a five. A five is imbalanced and seeks resolution - it indicates difficulty finding the right path. It requires you to change many times before you discover who you need to be - it's not an easy path to go down, but you're called to it." She paused a moment, staring at the piece of paper as she ran her finger over the numbers.
"Curious," she whispered to herself. "Your heart number is also a five, which is quite significant in this placement." She peaked up at him; his lips were pursed and his brows creased in attentive concentration. "Normally if you have a five in your character chart and a five in your heart placement it indicates serious emotional turmoil, but with the two in your life path you ultimately find resolution when you seek it. A five in your heart placement sometimes indicates fluidity and change, there are five senses to the human body, and each one is as significant as the other but they are not complete without consciousness. As long as you strive to find balance and resolution, you will find it, especially with your social number being a nine. I'm also a nine. It's the largest number in arithmancy, it indicates the end of the spiritual cycle. According to my book, New Theory of Numerology, we are more likely to be aware and influenced by the mystical and spiritual arts. I hardly believed it about myself when I read it, but I'm beginning to think it's true. When you open yourself up to all possibilities, that's when you'll be able to find what makes you complete." She handed the piece of paper to him then reached to pull the blanket up above her hips. Draco stared down at it, perplexed by her words.
"What's this?" he asked, pointing to a word that had been underlined: VISION
"That's your talent," Hermione said quietly, shifting herself back into the pillows, "it's the one skill you have a pure and unyielding affinity for."
He could scarcely process what she had said, but the words struck true and deep for him. She could not possibly understand the comfort her words brought him, but Draco was hesitant to let it pacify him.
"So this... stuff, this is real?" he asked slowly.
Hermione shrugged patiently. "It's by far the most accurate and empirical form of divination known to wizardkind, yes, perhaps only second to prophetic visions." Prophetic visions, ey? Draco thought to himself. Lucky for him, he had now had his future read to him by two methods of highly accurate fortunate telling. Unfortunately it did not make him feel any less lost amidst it all. It may have been comforting to hear that he could eventually find balance and completion, but Draco did not know how to fend off the peril of Death Eaters threatening his life and his family before he is able to find this so-called 'inner peace'. Hermione quirked her head to the side as the man in front of her sat still, his mind whirring with thoughts. "Did any of that make sense?" she asked, to which Draco nodded immediately.
"More than you know, Granger. I had never thought of Arithmancy. I had read so many books on Divination but not once thought of Arithmancy."
"I didn't know you liked this stuff," she responded with surprise in her voice. "Hm. I'm learning quite a lot about you tonight. Now I'm curious what other juicy secrets you have..." Her words broke Draco's serious concentration and he chuckled despite himself.
"Not much," he responded, "I'm not particularly interesting."
"Oh, you liar," Hermione scoffed at him playfully.
"Well," he thought, "I suppose it's a secret that I'm actually quite good at Transfiguration."
"What?" she replied, sitting back up to look at him, "but you always get low marks."
Draco shrugged. "McGonagall is intimidating. And I hate being told what to transfigure, it ruins the creativity of it."
"Prove it then," she responded bossily, "Transfigure something."
She raised her brows expectantly, and Draco reached into his pocket with a exaggerated sigh and pulled out his wand. Swiftly he rose to stand and swished his wand around like a sword, then reached his arms out in a mock stretch. She rolled her eyes at his dramaticism.
"Right then," he exhaled, his lips curled in a smile as he pointed his wand toward the open sky. With clear words and a gentle flick of his wand, he spoke, "Exsto Volucris!" Once the words were spoken, light began to emanate from his wand and glowing orbs bubbled out and appeared to float in the dark sky. Hermione's eyes widened as she watched several Glow Bugs develop out of the tip of his wand and begin to fly on their own. The insects emanated a warm yellow light and fluttered lazily in the night sky, like jellyfish in mid-air.
"That's quite something," Hermione spoke, watching the insects float around them. Draco raised a brow at her reaction.
"Oh, that isn't impressive enough for you, is it?" Draco replied, "Perhaps conjuring creatures isn't the most interesting act in the world."
"It is impressive, Draco!" she responded defensively, "I mean for a sixth year that's quite advanced stuff."
Draco Malfoy placed a hand on his hip and rubbed his chin in thought. "Right," he responded, "Impressive for my year, but not quite for a talented witch like Hermione Granger. Well, fortunately I have another trick up my sleeve. Ever seen an Illusionment charm?"
"A what?" Hermione asked in confusion, the term not ringing any bells from the depths of her knowledge. "That's not a thing - do you mean the disillusionment charm?"
Draco shook his head and reached a hand out. "Come, stand up and give me your hand."
Hermione did as he said, pulling herself up onto her feet, though while bringing the blanket with her, and outstretched her hand to him. He placed the tip of his wand at the palm of her hand and Hermione stared at it intently, bewildered at his actions.
"No matter what, stay still," he instructed.
"What do you mea-" before Hermione had a chance to respond, Draco's words stifled her own.
"Emanato sensibus," he spoke the words slowly and deliberately as if each syllable had weight to it. As he spoke the words, darkness fell before Hermione. The twinkling lights of the candles, the gleaming glow of the insects, and the distant bright stars disappeared into utter black. Hermione attempted to reach out to search for something, anything, amid the empty void and she gasped softly as something squeezed her hand which was held in place.
"You're okay," he whispered, "I have you. Try to relax."
Hermione could feel the weight of her chest as her breathing became rapid. She attempted to inhale deeply, to mellow her breaths and find peace. He had her. Though where she was or what was happening to her, she had no idea.
"Listen," he instructed, "do you hear that?"
For a moment she could only hear the pounding of her heart and the sound of whirring wind atop the Astronomy tower, but slowly the faint sound of piano came within ear shot. After a few seconds, the melancholic sound of gentle music filled her head.
"I hear it," she responded, nodding as the music began to alleviate her anxieties. The sound of soft piano keys slowly faded out and in its place came the sound of rushing water.
"What do you hear now?" he asked her, his hand still holding firmly onto hers.
"The ocean, I'm at the beach," she responded. Though her sight was gone, the soothing sound of waves crashing down on the shore brought her back to her childhood memories with her parents during holiday. She could hear the sound of seagulls overhead, and the laughter of children nearby as they played in the sand. Hermione's shoulders relaxed, her chin had lifted as she outstretched her free arm, mistaking the soft breeze of the outside Scottish air for the marine winds at her favorite beach. She inhaled deeply, expecting to smell the salty sea but she could only smell pine and the fresh outdoor air.
"I'm bringing you back," he spoke softly as Hermione gripped his hand. "Finite incantatem."
What was once the soft warm glow of candlesticks now appeared to be as bright as the sun as Hermione's mind adjusted to the light, her vision slowly recovering. She shook her head and reached to rub her temples as she became re-accustomed to her own senses.
"What on earth was that?" she asked once she recovered, blinking as her gaze adjusted. Blond hair became clearer and the sharp features of Draco Malfoy came into focus.
"Are you alright?" he responded, "that was the Illusionment Charm."
"There's no such thing, Draco," she spoke with frustration, "What did you just do?"
"I'm telling the truth. It's a spell that my grandfather taught me, it's called the Illusionment Charm, and it's not something very many people can do."
"So you," she backed away from him slowly, the faint sound of the ocean still ringing in her ears as it faded into her memory, "blinded me? Or-or played music in my mind?"
"Here, Granger," he guided her gently by her elbow down into the pillows to sit. She obliged as he sat down next to her, his legs crossed before him as he sat upright. "I didn't blind you, the spell simply manipulates your senses. If cast correctly, it can make you see, hear, smell, taste anything. I am still trying to get better at the sensation of touch," he sighed in irritation, "but the body has a lot of nerve endings to fool and manipulating touch can be quite draining on the caster."
"You can make me see anything?"
Draco nodded in response.
"In theory, yes," he replied, "but it can be a bit challenging to remove my own feelings and emotions from the manipulation, and it's a lot safer to delve into memories than to create a brand new world. Imagination can be a bit tricky since it's hard to control where my mind goes when I'm casting the spell."
"Hmm," Hermione nodded, "it felt very serene. Scary at first when I didn't know what was happening..."
"Mhmm, I was a bit nervous, you probably felt that," Draco ran his fingers through his hair, "I haven't done that spell on other people very much."
"But then it felt very peaceful," Hermione continued, almost unaware that he had spoken. "Calm and loving... I wanted to be there." Hermione looked up at him again, her eyes wide. "Do it again!"
"Er, I'm not sure, Granger," Draco responded, "I'm a bit out of practice, and it does exhaust me a bit."
"Please?" she asked, excitement sparkling in her features. "I've never seen anyone do such a spell - it's like legilimency but better. Just for a moment more," she pleaded. Draco sighed, rolled his shoulders back and nodded, conceding to her whims.
"Alright, but only for a few minutes," he said. "Where would you like to go?"
"Take me somewhere happy, somewhere from your childhood. A fond memory or something like that." Draco took her hand in his; though he could have easily cast the spell without touching her, he hoped that amidst the visions she would stay grounded and connected to him as he held her hand. Quietly and softly he spoke the incantation again, and darkness fell before Hermione once more.
This time it was the smell that hit her first. Fresh green grass, clean crisp air, and the scent of leather filled her nostrils.
"Be careful, Draco! You nearly hit that tree! What did your father tell you?" the voice of a young woman could be heard, half-laughing amid her stern speech.
"Sorry, mum!" came the voice of a young boy. Slowly, the scene appeared before her. She was flying, whirring through the air.
Draco felt Hermione's chest tighten as she held her breath. "You're fine," he whispered, "you won't fall. Look around."
Hermione could see around her, the bright green grounds perhaps thirty feet below her as little legs dangled over a thick dark brown broomstick. Then before her appeared a flash of gold, and small chubby fingers reached out for it. It was Quidditch, Hermione realized, as she took in the sights of Malfoy Manor below.
"Draco, you're too high up, come down a bit!" the young woman's voice called out. Hermione looked down to see a beautiful lithe woman with stark, pale blond hair and a long gray dress beckoning below.
"Coming mum," the young boy's voice called out as the broomstick slowly dipped toward the ground. Draco couldn't have been older than seven or eight in this memory, with his small fingers and child-size broomstick. The feeling of flying felt exhilarating, something Hermione was entirely unfamiliar with having never been adept at flying or particularly good at handling heights. It was a novel experience, the emotions of pure joy reverberating through her being. The grounds below were expansive, pristine and full of intricate details only the wealthy could afford. A tall stone fountain overflowed near where Narcissa Malfoy sat, watching over her first and only son. Before Hermione knew it, the broomstick sped forward with her on it, and the small fleshy hand of young Draco reached out toward a golden sparkle in the sky.
"Yes!" came the sound of young Draco Malfoy, and Hermione could see the small hand grasping the golden snitch in his palm. She could feel his excitement.
"Draco!" now it was the sound of a man who called his name. "Draco, enough of your games, come down I have some men here who I'd like you to meet."
Lucius Malfoy stood next to his wife, and embraced her. Behind him stood several men, clad in black.
"Yes, father," he responded obediently, the broomstick lowering gracefully back to the ground. As Draco approached the men, the outline of his father's face became more apparent, his features growing from the fuzzy outline from his long-forgotten memories to the vivid sharp features that adorned his father's face. The more she saw his face, the more Hermione could feel the joy fading from her body.
It was black again, but only for a moment, as she was transported elsewhere.
A courthouse? A small council of jurors in ridiculous robes. The long, straight hair of Lucius Malfoy as he stood in tattered robes.
"The ministry has ruled: life in Azkaban prison!"
The vision faded as soon as it came. All she could feel was sorrow, an immediate sense of emptiness and loss. Hermione couldn't take it. She wanted to cry, but she didn't have the heart. She could feel the pain but it was as if she had lost all sense of herself.
"It's for your father!" a shrill, female voice rang in Hermione's mind, but all sight had gone and she sat in the blackness. "Bring him honor and glory, Draco."
"No!" Draco broke the spell, crashing through Hermione's trance as her mind emptied itself of the visions, sounds, and sense of hollow desperation. She attempted to breathe, but felt as though a dozen bricks had been stacked atop her chest. She pulled herself to sit up and stared ahead at the night sky.
"I feel like I've been kissed by a dementor," she mustered, dazed.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Draco said, taking her hands in his. He lowered his forehead into her hands and sighed. "I thought this might happen; I'm not skilled at controlling where my mind goes, please don't be scared."
"Scared?" she asked, turning to him with concern. "Why would I be scared?"
Hermione pulled her hands from him and forced his chin up to look her straight in the eyes. "Draco, is that how you feel? It was so dark and cold. I felt so utterly alone."
His muscles were stiff, as if made of stone, and his expression appeared impenetrable. The intensity of the man before her would have previously given Hermione pause, but having seen what she had Hermione knew she could brave the poor soul. She had to.
Draco sat there, silent as the night, while Hermione watched him with a mix of worry and expectancy. At last, he broke the silence with a deep sigh before he drew himself up and approached the table. His fingers mindlessly moved to poured himself another tall glass of firewhiskey which he brought to his lips and drank with two fluid gulps, as though it were mere pumpkin juice. He groaned at the feeling, and winced as the alcohol flavor overcame his tastebuds.
"Fine," he resolved, finally looking down at the perturbed girl, "yes. Is that what you want? Yes, that's how I feel sometimes."
Draco sat the glass atop the table and paced with an air of anxiety that seemed to follow him.
"I fully regret sharing that experience with you," his voice was soft and steady, but they cut Hermione with deep jabs, "I should have known that there were no happy memories left that weren't tainted with some form of sadness or trauma. It's been a living hell being back here, chatting with these idiots who think they know what it's like to endure hardship. They don't know anything. I'm surrounded by children, and all I'm trying to do is keep my head afloat so I don't drown in my own fucking pit of despair." Draco paused and rolled his eyes at his own words, "I sound like a sodding idiot, whining about my dad and my poor pathetic life." He reached up to pull his hair back out of his face and rested his hands behind his head as he sighed up toward the sky.
"What can I do?" came the quiet, docile voice of Hermione as she looked up at him, concern painted all over her face.
It warmed his heart to see her, her big, chestnut eyes pleading for an answer though he knew he didn't have one.
He chuckled, despite himself. What could she do? Wasn't that the million dollar question.
"Granger," he whispered as he lowered himself back down to sit. He sat at her feet and reached forward, cupping her face with his hands. "Granger," he repeated, softer this time, "please believe me when I say that you have done more for me than you could ever know. I am so grateful for you, you've made my life a million times better than I could have hoped for. Please, trust me when I say that I want what's best for the both of us. Can you do that?"
Hermione nodded softly. Draco reached forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, which was creased with concern. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder and guided them both backward into the pillows where he held her closely against him, his fingers running mindlessly through her hair.
Draco's head felt cloudy with exhaustion. From the eavesdropped conversation between Snape and Trelawney, to the Arithmancy predictions from Hermione, to the messy memories of his father, the night had not gone exactly as Draco had hoped.
As though sensing it, Hermione wiggled her way around to face him and hoisted herself onto her elbow, looking down at the young man.
"Well," she started, concern having faded entirely from her face, "I can confidently say I was wrong about tonight."
"Hm?" Draco asked.
"You certainly did not bring me here to seduce me." Hermione's lips were pursed with amusement, and Draco chuckled in response.
"Don't be so sure," he responded, lazily pulling himself up onto his own elbow to meet her gaze. "The sad tortured soul bit didn't work, it seems. Perhaps I have other tricks up my sleeve..."
Hermione laughed at the thought of it. "You'd better pull them out soon, it's getting past my bedtime."
Draco smirked at her and shook his head. "No tricks," he murmured. He reached over and ran his fingertips down her jaw line and dragged gently over her neck. Goosebumps rose on the skin of her arms in response to his touch and she closed her eyes, relishing in the gentle sensations.
"Are you alright?" Draco whispered, his attentive gaze observing her reactions. His fingertips continued to explore her skin, running over her collarbone and gently grazed the soft flesh of her neck.
"Mmm," she responded, "mmhm." At most, Hermione felt concern for him. Even at her worst times she had never experiencing such harrowing anguish, and though she wanted to save him from it with all of her might she knew she couldn't. He had asked her to trust him, and she would. For his sake she was alright, and willing to bring him happiness however she knew how.
Draco studied her features, her eyes were closed beneath thick brown lashes and her breathing had slowed and softened. He leaned over to her, and gentle as can be he pressed a soft kiss onto the top of her shoulder. The thin layer of stubble which had grown on his chin and cheeks grazed against her skin and caused a shiver to travel down her spine. Hermione inhaled sharply, lifting her chin in invitation. Not one to let an opportunity go, Draco ran his lips up to drag over her shoulder and up to her neck. As he planted soft, featherlight kiss after kiss on her neck, Hermione felt waves of tingles run through her.
She moaned softly at his touch, his painfully soft touch which drove her mad. The ghost of a smile formed on his lips as he observed her, cloudy and dazed. Her lips were parted, pink and soft, and her cheeks had developed a rosiness to them.
Delectable was the woman before him, ever so fiesty when it was called for, but soft and delicate at his embrace.
"My lioness," he whispered softly, his hot breath landed on her lips before his own lips captured hers in a tender, supple kiss. He could feel her press into it, as though awakening her from her peace. Her fingers slipped into his hair, cupping the back of his head. Their lips pressed together, gentle yet firm, singlehandedly wiping away doubt and worry from their minds.
He let his lips graze against hers, and dipped down to trap her lower lip gently between his own lips as he suckled on it. Her breath was shallow and hot, and the hand which had innocently cupped the back of his head was now exploring down, dragging over his broad back and down toward his hips. As he pulled back from the kiss, he could feel desire emanating from her. She leaned forward to reignite the embrace, her hands pulling him toward her, but he knew his limits. Though he had not brought her there to seduce her, she seemed to have no qualms with seducing him.
"Hermione," he murmured into her lips. The sound of her name seemed to snap her out of the fog and her heavy lashes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his again.
"Mm?" she responded, running her fingers back through his hair as she rested her head against his shoulder.
"I would love nothing more than you keep you here to myself all night," he whispered into her hair, "but there will be some people wondering where you are in the morning."
Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms even tighter for a brief moment, holding him in a hug, before she released him.
»»-¤-««
