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10: A Prophecy of Worlds To Fall Part II

Ever since their heart to heart, Hermione had been feeling anxious every time she entered Draco's presence. While he acted much the same, she got the feeling that he was watching her more and she was increasingly worried about spilling her affection out on the carpet in a puddle of sap, or worse, vomit.

He smiled up at her as she entered his study, a tray of coffee and muffins balanced on her hip. She set it gently on his desk and then curled up in one of the bay windows, drawing her dress around her knees and slippered feet. She rested her forehead on the cool glass, staring wistfully out into the garden. Summer was in full bloom, fronds of butterfly bushes waving at the clear sky, hibiscus plants basking in the sun. Birds were flittering from the magnolia trees to the bird bath near the cobbled path to the trees again.

She jumped suddenly at the hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," Draco said softly, his thumb soothing her skin.

"Hi," she whispered back, then turned back to the window. She shouldn't have sat down here. She regretted it immensely.

"You look frustrated."

"Feeling cooped up, is all." And it was the truth. She could open as many windows as she wanted, but that didn't make the fact that she hadn't left the manor in several months any less horrible.

"Me too," Draco agreed. She could see his reflection in the glass, watched him tilt his head and roll out his neck. "Let's do something different."

"What?"

He chuckled as he pulled her to her feet. She squealed in protest as he set her down, his hands tickling her ribs. He grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming.

"Come on, Granger." He held out his hand to her, his eyes imploring. "Trust me."

She hesitated for far longer than was socially appropriate, but Draco didn't move an inch. In the end, it was his hopeful expression that did her in.

She extended her hand slowly, giving him, and herself, the chance to back out, but when he still didn't retract the offer, she gently placed her hand in his. He squeezed her fingers and his eyes lit up as he pulled her from the room.

"Come on," he coaxed, sliding his guiding hand to her back. "I want to show you something."

Hermione followed obediently, but she hesitated at the door leading out into the garden. He tried to tug her over the threshold, but she dug in her heels. He'd told her the very first day not to leave.

"Hermione?" Draco asked gently.

"You said—"

"Don't worry about what I said. You can come outside. I give you permission."

She swallowed thickly and took a tentative step onto the patio. Draco smiled encouragingly and, once she was relatively sure the collar wasn't going to choke her to death, she relaxed.

"This way," he said, leading the way down one of the cobbled paths. They walked in companionable silence, the only sound coming from the birds and the gentle breeze.

Suddenly Draco chuckled, pausing at a junction in the path.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking around. Draco grinned at her, and steered her in the direction of a koi pond. The pond glistened in the sun, and strutting around it were two snow-white peacocks. "Peacocks?"

"They're mother's," he said, scooting around her. She watched him, giggling as he held out his hand to them. One of them, larger than the other, moved to greet him. It made a soft whirring noise and preened as Draco gently patted its head. "Father got them for her for their anniversary a couple of years ago."

"They're very elegant," Hermione said, nearing them. Draco smiled at her.

But, as if they had taken offense to her comment, both birds suddenly fanned out their feathers and the one Draco was petting nipped his fingers. He swore and turned back to her—a huge mistake. The birds squawked loudly and pecked at his heels.

"Bloody birds," Draco hissed, kicking out towards them. That only helped to infuriate them further and suddenly Hermione found herself running beside him, laughing hysterically as they escaped the peacocks' wrath.

"I hate those bloody things," Draco laughed, slowing to a walk half-way through a gorgeous wisteria tunnel. Hermione continued to giggle as she took in the view. The sun filtered through the purple foliage and she felt freer than she had in a long time.

"You don't like them?"

"No! They're mean!"

"Then why did you try to pet them?"

He shot her a look as if wondering whether he should answer and then he shrugged. "Thought they might like you."

"Oh," Hermione accused, nudging his side with her elbow. "I see how it is. Tempt the birds with your charm and then feed them your helpless victim." She shook her head. "You can't fool me, you foul drag—" she cut off abruptly as Draco stopped suddenly and put his hands on her shoulders. His eyes were intent and his face was serious.

"Do you believe I am a monster, Granger?"

She'd just been joking around, but seeing how much it had upset him, she swallowed back her original response. He'd taken her by surprise and now she was caught in between her affection and her pride.

She settled on being honest with him, because he had been honest with her.

"No," she said quietly, covering one of his hands with her own. "I don't think that you are a monster, Draco." She'd only ever used his name a handful of times, and usually scathingly, otherwise when he was half-delirious. Relief was obvious on his face when the two syllables had rolled off her tongue and he let loose a blinding smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling in his mirth. He pressed his forehead to hers and nuzzled her nose, then pulled away.

"I'm glad," he whispered. Still grinning, he sauntered further down the tunnel, tossing her a look and saying, "I still have more to show you."

They walked in an easy silence the rest of the way. He led her out into an open field next to a massive stable.

"Do you ride?"

"Not often, but I enjoyed doing it on holiday," Hermione replied.

"We will have to come out here sometime soon."

The field ended abruptly at the edge of a dark forest. He motioned for her to come closer and they stood shoulder to shoulder staring into the abyss.

"When I show you this, you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about it." His mouth quirked into a half-smile.

"I promise," Hermione said quietly.

'I mean it." She looked up into his eyes.

"So do I." He nodded.

"Good. Come here." He pulled her in front of him and then took her hand, turning it palm out. He pushed it forward, flattening it against a hard object in midair. He dropped his mouth to her ear and whispered, "now close your eyes and think: Number 1 Woodspell Lake."

Not only was it a lovely name, but when she opened her eyes, the view took her breath away.

Her hand was on a carved wooden door of a tiny cottage. The entire face of it was covered in blooming honeysuckle and yellow trumpet vine. The walls were made of stone infused with blue and green glass, and large, round windows gleamed like two eyes from the building.

"Draco," she whispered. He smiled at her, taking out his wand and rapping it sharply against the door. It swung open, revealing a single room bathed in light. The walls were mostly windows.

"Welcome to my safe haven."

Hermione cautiously entered the cottage, staying close to door.

"Come on, now," Draco chuckled, giving her a gentle push forward. "Don't be shy."

He moved past her to the opposite wall, opening the half dozen windows to allow the summer air to permeate the room. To the right was a single bed, a threadbare blanket folded up at the end. In one corner was a tiny kitchenette, and to her left was an odd assortment of chairs next to an overstuffed couch. A faded green rug covered most of the living space.

Hermione giggled and pressed a hand to her mouth.

"What?" he asked, smiling too. He was busying himself making tea, but he leaned back against the counter to watch her. "What?"

"I—" she broke off and moved towards the couch. "Did you pick this out?"

"Yes. Do you not like it?"

"No!" She laughed again, throwing herself onto it. "I would never have thought you would pick something so—so ugly!"

"Ugly?!" he said indignantly, abandoning the tea pot. "I'll have you know that I love that sofa!"

"Oh, it's comfortable," she giggled, throwing her legs over the arm. "But the pattern is horrendous." And it was. A garish orange accented with hunter green. The colors zig-zagged across the cushions, little white flowers scattered across the mess.

"Ok," he agreed, looking down at her. "I'll give you that."

His eyes were doing that thing again, turning molten as they stared at each other. She slowly moved so that she was sitting normally, never breaking their gaze. He leaned down over her, bracing his hands on the back of the couch and he slowly moved towards her. Closer, and closer—

Suddenly there was a shrill whistling and Draco jerked back, looking stunned. He shook his head, frowning and retreated to the kitchen.

Hermione felt sick. He'd been flirting with her outrageously for the past several days and, now that they were truly alone and she'd been open to his advances, he'd jolted away from her with such a look of disgust that it had honestly hurt her. Sure, she wasn't beautiful in any exotic meaning of the word, but she wasn't ugly, by any means. Maybe she wasn't perfect, but she'd thought that they—that Draco—had gotten over their blood difference.

If it was any indication of how he was studiously avoiding her now, that was not the case.

Feeling close to tears Hermione thought about getting up and leaving, but she couldn't very well escape with him so close. He would surely chase her down and demand an explanation. That was something that she was not ready to give.

"Granger," he said, the light tone they'd been using before reappeared in his voice. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you." She turned away, folding back in on herself. Of course, all the progress they had made had been thrown out the window. She'd stupidly allowed herself to hope that he might forget about the pureblood shit, but this just proved her wrong. He might be kind to her face, but she had no chance with him.

"Granger?" He sat down on a square ottoman in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied, giving him an unconvincing smile.

"Hermione." He frowned. "Come now, we were just having fun."

She shrugged. Fun? Is that what he called it? He reached out a hand, probably to place it on her knee, but he diverted at the last moment. He sighed uncomfortably and stood up.

"I am sorry if I've done something. I did not mean to upset you."

She grimaced, standing up as well. "It is nothing you can help." She didn't wait for him. Hurt, she walked purposefully out of the door back towards the manor. Her chest was tight and she did not think that she could stand to look at him for at least the rest of the day.

"Hey!" Draco tramped down the path after her. For someone who usually moved so silently, he was an utter menace in nature. She could hear his approach the entire way, considered diverting from the path to further avoid him, but she decided she didn't want him to have to order her to stop.

"Granger!"

He spun her around, his face drawn and annoyed.

"Please let me go," she said quietly. She didn't want to fight him.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Let. Me. Go." She tried not to snarl at him, but she was sure that she failed because she was clenching her teeth together so hard.

"Stop," he ordered, clutching her arms. She was forced to still by the collar, but she bared her teeth angrily at him.

How dare he? How dare he order her to stand still and answer to him when he was so cruel to her?

Although he was clearly exasperated with her efforts to be dramatic (but not really because she was honestly pissed off) his face softened slightly and his grip gentled.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Talk to me, please."

She didn't want to talk to him. Not when she was angry, and hurt, and wishing she was anywhere but standing in front of him. So she stayed silent. He hadn't directly ordered her to speak so, for the moment, her thoughts were her own.

He sighed quietly and let her go.

"Please don't be angry with me. You're my only friend, Granger."

"Nott and Zabini?" she snapped. They were his best friends; it was clear as day to anyone who paid even the remotest bit of mind.

He opened his mouth to reply but promptly snapped it shut when a handsome Great Horned Owl came soaring out of the sky. It landed neatly on Draco's outstretched arm and, while he was distracted, Hermione turned on her heel and marched away.

"Granger!" Draco called after her, but she kept going. He'd told her to stop, so she'd stopped. He'd never told her to stay put.

She skirted close to the stables, hoping desperately that she could ditch him and sneak back to her room so she wouldn't have to deal with him for the rest of the day. Alas, that was not to be.

She glanced back briefly to see Draco pouring over the letter he'd received and then he let out an excited whoop and actually jumped into the air. It would have been quite comical if she hadn't been so cross with him.

She regretted pausing immediately, because once the distraction of mail had ceased to exist, Draco was back on the hunt for her.

"Granger!" He yelled again, loping towards her gracefully. Like a wolf. Or perhaps a gazelle. She thought he might be more annoyed with being a gazelle.

Shaking her head, she hurried in through the stable door, hoping against hope that he hadn't seen her go through there. There was a horse in almost every stall and they all snorted at her as she darted down the aisles until she found another door. But that door was locked and she could hear Draco's boots clacking against the floor.

"Granger," he sighed, skidding around the corner. "Stop running from me!" It wasn't a true command, because if she'd wanted to, she could have escaped. But he was laughing—laughing! A good, hearty laugh that boomed from his chest and reverberated around the lofted ceiling.

She wasn't sure of his intentions as he stalked towards her. She pressed herself firmly against the wall to put as much space between them as she could.

But then he was there, pulling her away from the wall, twirling her around in his arms, and then he was kissing her. Hard.

He pulled back after a moment that seemed to have been less than a second and stared at her, wide-eyed. "Fuck."

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A/N: So this was actually a tiny bit longer than last chapter, and that spat I threw in there was kind of impromptu, but I am pleased with the results. How do you all feel about the end of this chapter? Is it about damn time? Because I think it is. But don't worry, there's a lot more drama and a few more dark passions to get through before the end of this fic. Thank you all again for your continued support, as well as the support from my new readers :). Offer still stands that for every review I receive, I will read and review a fic written by that reviewer. You guys are amazing, and I write for you!

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