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XI: The Empress
The fire blazed before Hermione. She stretched her legs, allowing her feet to grow warm near the heat emanating from the charred and crackling wood. It felt nice to be inside on a Saturday like this. Overhead, through the window, the image of Hogwarts castle was cast dark against the grey clouds and streaming, steady rain which bore down on the earth with ferocity. But here, within the warm, dry confines of Hagrid's hut, Hermione felt peaceful. If she listened closely enough, she could hear the pitter patter of water trickling down the gutter, and the sound of a cloud groaning with thunder overhead. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around a steaming mug, filled to the brim with a translucent golden liquid which filled Hermione's senses with its delicate floral aroma.
"Must'a been torture fer ye, Harry," Hagrid spoke to the trio, moving to place freshly baked biscuits on the table before them. His baking appeared to have improved significantly since their first few tea sessions together, Hermione noted, as the texture had evolved from that of a moldy stone to dry, old fruitcake. She smiled politely as he offered her a biscuit, and took it graciously, placing it on the side of her saucer.
"It was," Harry griped, shaking his head. "Has any student gotten this much detention? Every Saturday until forever? Honestly... He's just trying to keep me from stopping Voldemort." Hagrid cringed at the name and Ron nodded in response.
"When is Dumbledore gonna do away with Snape, anyway?" Ron spoke before taking a bite of the biscuit.
"That will never happen," Hermione chimed in. "Harry, I know you don't want to hear this, but perhaps the detention is a bit deserved. You did, after all, nearly kill a Hogwarts student. You're lucky it's just detention."
Ron rolled his eyes at her as Harry scowled at the idea. Though they had both grown used to Hermione taking the professor's side, the fact that she held them accountable for their actions was their least favorite attribute of hers.
"A' least Gryffindor won the Quidditch game!" Hagrid said, "Tha' was quite the game, I tell ye. Harry, ne'er woulda thought the team would pull through withou' ye bu' I'm glad they did."
"I would have never forgiven myself if Gryffindor lost the house cup all because of me," Harry responded into his cup.
"The rest of Gryffindor wouldn't have forgiven you either," Ron replied with a cheeky grin.
"How's Malfoy doin'?" Hagrid asked curiously, jabbing the poker into the fireplace to resurrect the flames.
Harry shrugged, and Hermione gazed down at her tea cup, lifting it to her lips for a sip. It had been several days since she had visited him in the Hospital Wing, and there was no news as to when he would be released. Rumors had spread quickly about what happened in Myrtle's bathroom; Harry had become a hero with several Gryffindors who viewed Draco Malfoy as the perpetual enemy. Harry, who was not without heart, did not take kindly to his newfound glory, and was quick to dismiss any positive appraisal that floated his way.
"No idea," Harry said, "I think he'll be alright. Snape hasn't said anything about it, so it seems like he'll make a recovery sooner or later."
"He'll be back to his annoying self in no time," Ron added. Hermione took another sip of the tea, gazing to the bottom of the cup as if it held the answers to all of life's questions.
"This tea is delightful, Hagrid," she interjected, quickly changing the subject. "Where did you get it?"
"Made it meself," Hagrid smiled with pride, "Was growin'a patch of elderflow'rs near the woods, bu' they were trampled. I was only able'a save enough to dry and make tea fer us today."
"Trampled by what?" Ron asked, slightly concerned.
"Well it's funny ye ask," Hagrid started, and stood up. His head nearly hit the top of the hut's ceiling and he had to maneuver around the trio to not knock over any items perched on the walls. He reached the window behind Hermione and pointed forward, toward a grove of tall trees. "Few days ago, I spotted some hoof marks near the fores', just there. Follow'd the tracks and found these." Hagrid reached over to a shelf and held up several long, thick grey feathers. They were freyed, and a bit torn, but the sight of them immediately reminded Hermione of third year. Harry had the same reaction as his eyebrows rose toward his hairline.
"Hippogriffs?" Harry asked, astonished.
"Wild hippogriffs?" Hermione asked, equally astonished.
"Aye," Hagrid nodded. "I ne'er though' I'd see Hippogriffs at Hogwar's again, after the Ministry made me sell the lot three years ago."
"Aren't they dangerous?" Ron asked, skeptically as he reached for the feather which was the length of his arm. "I mean, if they're wild and not used to people..."
"All Hippogriffs are dang'rous," Hagrid replied proudly, "but ye need to know how ter care fer 'em."
"What are they doing here?" Hermione asked, quirking her head with curiosity. The Forbidden Forest was home to many animals, but she always imagined a flying creature like the Hippogriff would prefer vast open lands, not dense forest.
"Dunno," Hagrid shrugged, "but I saw a trail'a spiders runnin' to the forest a few days ago, and the centaurs are drawin' deeper than ever. I think the me'eor show'r is messin' with all the creatures. Dunno wha'to make of it, bu' the Hippogriffs're matin' and seems like there's plen'y of 'em ou' in the Ferbidden Forest."
Harry caught Hermione's eye, as they both seemed to ponder Hagrid's words. The last time the spiders were acting unusually a basilisk was released within Hogwarts' walls. But a meteor shower did not scare Hermione, who shrugged and took another sip of her delectable tea.
"Well, we'll see what happens," she said. "There's nothing you can do to stop a meteor shower, is there?" Hagrid shrugged and maneuvered his way back to his seat.
"Speakin' of matin'," Hagrid said with a twinkle in his eye, "Ron, how're you'n Lavender doin'?"
Harry snorted into his tea as Hermione burst into laughter at Hagrid's words. Ron, however, turned a bright red as he scowled.
"I broke up with her, Hagrid," Ron replied, his nose the colour of a cherry, "she was too, er, needy, I s'pose."
"Sorry ter hear tha'," Hagrid responded with an apologetic shrug. "And wha'bout you, Hermione?"
Hermione looked at Hagrid wide eyed, and Ron shifted in his seat. "Er, no," Hermione replied, swirling her teacup in her hand absentmindedly, "no, there's no one."
"Hm," Hagrid replied, reaching for his teacup. The cup was so small in Hagrid's large hands that it seemed as though he could balance it on his thumb. "I coulda' sworn, ye look diff'rent. Ye seem to be glowin' an' happier'n usual. It isn' McClaggan, is it? I hear' him sayin' some thin's that made me want to wallop the boy in the ear."
"What things?" Ron asked, defensively. "About Hermione?"
"No," Hermione assured, feeling the warmth in her cheeks as she blushed harshly from the attention, "I am definitely not dating McClaggan."
"Good," Hagrid toasted with his teacup, "the boy's a mongrel."
Hermione laughed politely as the conversations quickly turned to Harry, who blushed as fiercely as Ron when news came up that he had kissed Ginny. Hermione was grateful that Harry had some romantic news for Hagrid to take in, and was happy that Harry had found some respite in Ginny. Though Hermione could not recall if Harry had ever had a calm and normal year at Hogwarts, he had appeared to grow more agitated and suspicious of people around him, including but not limited to Draco Malfoy, Horace Slughorn, and Severus Snape. She could tell that Harry had been on edge most of the year, and after nearly killing Malfoy she was hopeful that he could find some normalcy in a romantic relationship, like a typical sixteen year old. Hermione, on the other hand, did not seem to know what a normal relationship was.
Hermione's gaze slowly moved back toward the window, where she could view the now drying Hogwarts castle, the thick grey clouds slowly drifting away as the rain steadied to a subtle mist.
It wasn't long after their conversation that the trio began their trek back toward Hogwarts castle. The ground squished beneath their feet and soaked Hermione's ankles from the wet grass, but she let her head fall back and filled her lungs with the fresh, crisp air that smelled of raw soil.
Once they had made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, the boys occupied the vacant seats by the fireplace where they began to write their Defense Against the Dark Arts essays which Hermione had completed three weeks prior. Hermione joined them near the fire and as soon as her bottom hit the seat, she yawned and lifted her arms in a wide stretch before leaning back into the over-sized chair that enveloped her. She was exhausted, having had very little sleep over the past week due to the fact that two of her dormitory mates had made her life a living hell. Both Lavender and Parvati had decided that Hermione Granger was the worst girl at Hogwarts for stealing Ron away from Lavender, and although Hermione never cared much for gossip or cattiness she had no choice but to pay attention when the girls attempted to prank and otherwise torment her in the middle of the night. One evening Hermione had woken up with four frogs in her bed, on another she had woken up to her bed shaking violently, and on the most recent night she found herself being bounced out of her bed every time she began to drift off into sleep. Though the girls pretended to be innocently fast asleep during these occasions, she could see them shaking with laughter.
Hermione had grown wise after several days of sleepless anxiety, and enchanted her bed with a warding spell that would rebuff any spell or intruder out of her space. She had also decided on several methods of retaliation: she had cast the Nose-Stuffer spell on Lavender, which forced Lavender to have a perpetually stuffed up nose and nasal timbre without any relief. For Parvati, she cast a spell on her bookbags that made any and all writing utensils disappear forever, especially when she needed them most, like her Charms exam that afternoon.
Hermione smiled as she stared into the fire, her mind swirling with ideas of other spells to cast on the girls. She had not informed Harry or Ron of what had occurred, as she did not need Ron to come to her rescue against Lavender and she didn't want to distract Harry from his first month at peace with Ginny. The vindictive games actually preoccupied Hermione enough that she did not ruminate on Draco. The crackling of the fireplace and the feeling of being safely surrounded by her best friends comforted Hermione enough that she found herself dozing off in front of the fireplace, her head falling onto her shoulder as she fell fast asleep.
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Several hours passed when Hermione was rocked gently from her slumber toward lucidity.
"Hermione, wake up!" Ron urged, shaking her shoulder, "it's dinner time, c'mon!"
"Huh?" she blinked, daze drifting from her mind as she saw the dying embers in the fireplace. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Three hours," Harry replied with a gentle smile as Hermione rose to her feet and straightened her tie. "You seemed tired so we just let you sleep."
She nodded and thanked them as they walked toward the Great Hall together. The feast had already begun and Hermione followed the boys as they attempted to find a seat together. She reached for the apple cider and filled her goblet with it before reaching to fill her plate with several items of food. The boys had begun to discuss their essays, and had shared with Hermione their bleak outlook on their Defense Against the Dark Arts grade as Snape would always find reasons to dock points from their work.
"Well if you like I could review it for you," Hermione offered, "I've already turned mine in, but I could help you revise it if it needs revision."
"What d'you mean 'help us revise it'?" Ron asked, and Hermione shot him a sideways glance.
"I'm not going to write it for you, if that's what you mean," Hermione retorted.
Ron grumbled, "but Hermione you like writing papers!"
"Yes, and how will you learn to like writing them if you never have a chance to write properly yourself?" she responded as she took a sip of the apple cider. Harry appeared distracted as he looked over Ron's shoulder.
"Guys," Harry said, his voice lowered, "I think Malfoy's made a full recovery."
The words struck Hermione in the chest as she looked over at Harry, whose gaze was directed toward the Slytherin table. She followed his gaze and saw a sparkle of pale blond hair hidden behind the heads of towering Crabbe and Goyle. The sixth year Slytherins appeared to be laughing and enjoying their dinner, welcoming their friend back. As if he could feel her looking, he glanced up and met her gaze. Hermione felt her throat tighten and her heart quicken as they made eye contact, an entire hall between them. The faintest smile crossed his lips before he looked away and continued his conversation with his friends.
Within a moment, Hermione felt something tickle her ankles and she sat up with a quick gasp. This startled Ron, who looked up in the middle of biting into a chicken leg.
"S-sorry," Hermione stammered as she attempted to reach down to her feet where her fingers grasped the paper rabbit and shoved it into her book bag. "I just realized I have a library book that's overdue. I hope I have it with me," she said, bending down to inspect her bag for the book, meanwhile she unraveled the paper rabbit and attempted to read it from under the table.
Miss me?
Meet me at the staircase
above the potions classroom after dinner
DM
The boys fortunately paid her no mind, having become accustomed to her eccentricities. Regardless, Hermione had a difficult time readjusting to her normal pace of conversation with her friends. The plate of food in front of her which consisted of chicken, carrots, and yorkshire pudding, sat relatively untouched as Hermione's appetite had faded entirely at the prospect of meeting with him again. She could see him over Ron's shoulder as Ron continued to talk about his favorite international Quidditch teams. Having not seen Draco in several days, she felt as though she couldn't wait until dinner was over so she could speak with him again, hug him, feel him against her.
A loud sound jolted Hermione out of her daydream as she turned her head toward the source of the sound. Lavender Brown was attempting to blow her nose so hard that her face had become red and the veins in her forehead were jutting out. Ron raised his eyebrows as he watched her struggle.
"Serves her right," Hermione mumbled mindlessly to herself. She decided perhaps she did not need to administer any more hexes or jinxes to Lavender or Parvati, and she could now graciously forgive the two girls for messing with her. After all, Hermione had better things to think about.
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Hermione's heart sank when she saw the staircase by the Potion's classroom was unoccupied. She had, after all, seen Draco leave the Great Hall after dinner. She dropped her book bag to the ground and leaned the side of her body against the cold marble railing while waiting patiently for Draco to meet her at their rendezvous point. Fortunately for her, she waited only a moment or two before two hands wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her back into a warm body. Hermione gasped, startled, as she had not heard a sound to notify her that someone was nearby.
"Well, did you miss me?" a deep, silken voice whispered into her ear. She squirmed to face him and wrapped her own arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face into his chest as she inhaled deeply. His scent, intoxicating smell of spicy musk, leather, and a sweetness that was only familiar and distinct to him, filled her mind and brought her back to her happy place. She fit so perfectly into his arms, his height allowed her head to fit under his chin and her arms wrapped tightly around his broad upper body. They stood there, holding each other tightly, as though they had both gone without water for days and this was their first drink. "Come," he whispered after a moment, "we can't be seen like this. Follow me."
Hermione did not know where they were headed, and should have expressed concern when he led them to a dead end at the end of a long corridor but she was too busy enjoying his presence to worry. He stopped and stared at the stone wall. They weren't far from the staircase that led downstairs to the dungeons, and Hermione watched as Draco knelt down and pressed his palm against one of the stones. To her surprise, it pressed in and remained that way before Draco reached up four stones and over three to the left. He pressed his palm against this stone as well, and it pressed in. With both stones pushed into the wall, she noticed a third stone had jutted outward. Draco tapped his wand against the stone and spoke the words, "Salazar's Scion." Hermione watched, mesmerized, as the wall shook before them and opened into a passageway. Draco took her hand and pulled her in with him.
The wall closed back up as soon as the two had stepped in, and Hermione did not look back as Draco led her through a narrow stone path that weaved and turned through the underbelly of Hogwarts. Once they approached a long set of stairs, Draco stopped her.
"Right, so once we get out of this passage, I will need you to follow me across the hall, but you need to be quick because this pathway is not far from the Slytherin common room. Alright?" Hermione nodded and they rushed down the steps, out of the passageway, and across the open dungeon hallway. This time Draco stood before a stone wall where he pressed his wand against a stone and spoke a different phrase, one that Hermione did not recognize.
"Custos puritas," he said confidently though quietly. The wall opened as if it were a door and Draco rushed in, pulling Hermione by the hand in with him.
Hermione stared in awe at the room she had just entered. The space shone a dark aquamarine, and although Hermione had assumed that the walls were painted an ill-suited colour she quickly realized that the walls themselves were actually floor-to-ceiling windows. Hermione gasped as she realized that, similar to those of the Slytherin common room, these windows looked inside the Black Lake. She watched wide-eyed as large schools of fish drifted out of the aquatic plants that swayed with the current.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Draco asked, unfastening his cloak as he moved to hang it on a hook suspended against the door. "I've always wanted to show this place to someone, but it's been a well-kept secret for a reason."
Hermione slowly turned on her heel to take in the nearly 360 degree view of the inside of the lake. As she did so, Hermione's gaze wandered to the different items that the room inhabited. In the corner, she noticed a lone harp. Near it stood a tall folding screen that reminded Hermione a bit of the privacy curtains in the Hospital Wing. The folding screen, however, appeared much more intricate with dark wood paneling, ivory silk, and lacquered green snakes as decoration on the expensive fabric.
"I've read about this!" Hermione gasped at her epiphany, "In Hogwarts: A History, it says there are rumored to be several rooms that Salazar Slytherin built and kept secret, only passing the locations to several of his most trusted pupils. There are said to be half a dozen rooms, including secret libraries with forbidden tomes, bath houses, private bedrooms, and a cabinet full of rare potions supplies hidden somewhere in the castle. Draco," Hermione breathed with excitement, "People have been searching for these rooms since Hogwarts was built; I thought it was just a legend."
"It is just a legend for most people," Draco responded as he took Hermione's bookbag from her arm and hung it up on the hook, "my father told me about it when I was in my third year. He told me that this location is to remain a secret, and is only passed on to one family or bloodline at any given time. 'It is to be reserved for Slytherin's purest followers,' he'd say."
"Salazar'd likely roll in his grave if he realized you brought a 'mudblood' here," Hermione said with a toying smile.
"It's too bad he's long dead," Draco responded with a shrug as he stepped forward, his heels clicking against the shiny black marble tile that adorned the ground. He circled around the deep pool which Hermione now noticed was bubbling like a hot spring. She observed that instead of a steady dip in the ground to allow for the pool, the tiled floor gradually inclined like a small hill. At the very top was several feet of marble that leveled-off to hug the window, and allowed ample room to sit and gaze out into the endless aquatic abyss. It was here that Draco kicked off his shoes and gracefully sat down, cross-legged. The light from above the lake cast swaying shadows that danced on Draco's face as he sat back and enjoyed the peaceful view.
Hermione joined him and reached to peel off her shoes. As her bare feet hit the black tile, it felt warm against her skin as if it had been heated for her. She slipped down to sit next to him as they faced the wide-open window which looked into the lake. Through the deep waters they could see the swinging tentacles of the Giant Squid across them.
Hermione pressed her head against his shoulder and turned to look at him.
"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked, slight concern betrayed in her tone.
"I'm alive," he responded with a half-hearted shrug before reaching to press a soft kiss to her forehead.
"You look so tired," Hermione said tenderly, her gaze lingering on the large dark circles under his eyes and the sallowness of his cheekbones.
"It's been quite the year," he replied with a sigh. "I've wanted to tell you," he hesitated, a lump developing in his throat as he attempted to find the words to tell her how he felt, but all he could come up with was how he was, in fact, exactly what she had always feared; the villain to her story, and the most deceitful man.
"I'm sorry for what happened between you and Harry," Hermione whispered softly. She could see the faint scar on his face that ran from his forehead down to his jawline, it had nearly faded since that evening in the Hospital Wing. "I can't imagine what you went through."
"That's been the least of my worries," he breathed. "I've been under immense pressure, and having to lay there in the hospital wing for days... all I did was think," Draco murmured as she listened intently, her forehead creasing in concentration while she studied his features. "Since my father's imprisonment, since he has been gone I have been forced to be someone I'm not ready to be. Granger, I'm scared it will be the end of me. I can't do it anymore, I can't be the person that my father has always wanted me to be. I'm going to crumble under the pressure-" his words ran dry. His throat closed up as he felt himself losing control of the emotionless visage he thought he had mastered long ago. Perhaps this was better; perhaps it was ideal for him to lose all semblance of his past self and perhaps he had to, for once in his adult life, become human. "I don't want to do the things that I - I have to do," he whispered, "but if I don't..." Dark images flashed in his mind: his mother punished, perhaps tortured, himself murdered at the hands of the Dark Lord of his betrayal. "Everything my family has worked for will be destroyed," he continued, his voice weak with emotional exhaustion, "because I chose to disobey and rebel. I don't see a way out of this; there's no hope for me…"
"That's not true," she spoke in a small voice, as if fighting through the dark cloud that he had projected over them. "I don't know what it is that you're going through, but of course you have hope, Draco. I don't believe that at all."
Poor, naive girl, he thought to himself. He couldn't help but feel entirely alone, even with her. How could he expect her to understand? She, after all, had known success and glory. From their first year she had always persevered, and any challenge or hardship had been won over with the help of her friends. But who did he have? What friends would stand against him and help him?
"Listen," she said more firmly, as if noticing that he had withdrawn into himself, "I know you feel alone. I feel like you've been withering away, and I'm grateful for the few moments you light up when we're together. But you aren't alone, and you aren't hopeless. Whatever your father's friends want you to do, whatever job you have once you graduate, you can fight it and them. Who knows what happens by that point any way, there are many people fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I just refuse to believe that there is no hope. I felt that way once, but I've found that something always tips in the favor of good. And you want to be good."
Hermione's hopeful idealism almost irritated Draco. How could she ever relate to him? "No offense," he started, "but that sounds like a lot of fairy tale thinking. Just because you and your friends have gotten lucky a few times doesn't mean that there's some magical force that will help me get out of all my problems."
Hermione arched a brow fiercely.
"Actually," she retorted, "do you remember second year when all those rumors were circulating that you were the heir of Slytherin, and you had caused so many of the muggle borns to be nearly killed?" He nodded in acknowledgement, the painful memory of having been so outwardly cruel toward her embarrassed him. "I was scared, but I didn't lose hope. I remember scouring the library day after day trying to figure out what it was that was attacking the school. It was the first time that something of this magnitude had happened at Hogwarts, according to all of the historical tomes I'd read, and it was a complete mystery."
"Anyway," she continued, "I had scoured the library reading book after book and I couldn't find anything at all, I had even convinced Madame Pince to allow me to search the restricted section and I still couldn't find anything. The day that I got petrified, I was searching the library as usual, and as I was about to pack my bags to head to class, I noticed that there was a page torn out of a book that I had never heard of, shoved into the bottom of my bookbag. Do you know what that page was about? Basilisks. I had no idea how it got there, I had never torn a page out of a book. If it wasn't for that page, I wouldn't have known to look down the corridors through a mirror and I would have likely died..."
Draco shivered at the memory of her petrified body, and ran a warm hand down her arms, squeezing her closer to him.
"Granger," he murmured, and though Hermione couldn't see his expression she could sense the air of hopelessness fade as he touched her affectionately. "I hate to break it to you," he said into her hair, "but that wasn't magic."
"What do you mean?" she responded with a trace of irritation. "How on earth would you know that?"
"Because," he continued, a slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth, "I'm the one who put that page in your book bag."
He could feel her body tense before she pulled away entirely, turning to face him head on, her gaze intense and searching as she attempted to understand his words.
"It's true," he nodded, "at the start of our second year I knew that father was planning on releasing some kind of horrid monster from the Chamber, and I had heard him talk about the great snake of Slytherin or something like that. I figured he'd be mad to try and release a monster in Hogwarts, especially with Dumbledore here, but I decided to do some reading and figure out what exactly he was going to release." Hermione's mouth was slightly open as she listened intently, her gaze unflinching as he spoke.
"It was actually the day that we ran into you and the Weasley lot in Flourish and Blotts," Draco continued, "when Lockhart was signing his books. I had torn a page from one of the beastiary books and kept it for myself to read. When people started actually getting hurt in Hogwarts I was a bit conflicted: even though at the time I was fine with the Dark Lord coming back," the thought made his stomach churn as he said it, "I was innocent and naive and really didn't feel like having Hogwarts close down. I didn't love the place, but I liked my friends and playing Quidditch, so I decided to do something about it. I left that page in your book bag because I knew you were smart and you'd find a way to fix the problem because that's what you did. I probably should have thought it through a bit more, but it all worked out in the end if you ask me."
Draco's last words lingered in the air for a moment. Hermione had not moved at all as her mind processed the information he had presented. He awkwardly shifted his weight backward to lean into his elbows as he looked out toward the lake, his gaze following a large lone fish swimming in front of them.
"You did that?" Hermione finally spoke with some accusation. "You put the page in my book bag?"
Draco nodded apologetically as he met her eyes. "Look I probably shouldn't have told you. I didn't mean to ruin your theory about good always ultimately beating evil or anything, I just thought -"
"No, Draco," she interrupted firmly. "I don't care about my theory, I was just trying to cheer you up anyway. You just told me that in the second year you saved my life. You had a choice to let bad things happen to good people and you decided to fight that, even if it was your father's doing that you were going against." Her words were cutting through him like a scalding prod, penetrating into his iron-clad reserve. He leaned forward toward her again as she continued to speak manically. "You chose to be good, even when I thought you hated me and everything I stood for, you decided to save my life and the lives of many others. You were good, even in the second year. This whole time I thought you were a self-centered brat who always got what he wanted, but you did something good and meaningful. If I knew that long ago, Draco, I would have never been so dismissive of you."
The pointed nose, the arched forehead, and the ice cold stare of Draco Malfoy had melted into a man who had lost all his defenses. The heavy tenseness that he had carried around him all year, like a burden, had released and he looked at her head-on like a man who had found sanctuary after persecution. He leaned forward into her and rested his forehead on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against him again, her warmth nourishing any wounds he had cast on himself; as if she was his sole source of comfort and safety. He had asked himself over and over again for the past three or four years whether he was truly evil, truly capable of committing evil deeds in the name of loyalty and "purity". When he had discovered that he may be too weak or too empathetic to ever murder someone who didn't deserve it, Draco felt like a failure. The entire life that he, his father, his family had built for him, had all of a sudden made him feel like an imposter. He had been pretending to be a man he wasn't capable of ever becoming. And now he was here, before a woman who had known him as the hateful, small-minded monster, and she still showed her love to him in spite of it all.
"Draco," she spoke softly, as if afraid to rouse him too quickly. Her hand had been running through his pale hair as he held her. "Come, lay with me," she whispered before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He obeyed her desire, as they both readjusted their bodies to lay on the warm floor. Above head, Draco could see the surface of the lake as the moon glistened through the rippling water, its light causing a soft halo to shine beneath the surface.
Hermione turned to face him, her head rested against his chest as she pressed small, soft kisses over the hollow of his throat, his fingers intertwining in her curls as he held her. Hermione looked up at him, studying his face. He had closed his eyes, his breathing had deepened. He looked softer and younger now, laying there with her. The hard lines of his forehead softened into supple skin, his intensity unraveled to present him in his most human, fragile state.
Hermione had nearly forgotten that she was staring at him, studying his features and breathing at the rate that he was, when he peaked an eye open and looked at her watching him. An amused smile formed on his lips.
"You're staring, Granger," he stated the obvious. Hermione attempted to shrug despite her position and he gazed down at her, reaching to lift up her chin as he leaned and pressed a soft, brief kiss on her lips. "I forget who I am when I'm with you, you know that?" he murmured against her mouth, pressing another kiss which Hermione reciprocated happily. "You're everything I want and exactly what I need, Granger," he whispered against her lips. Despite thoroughly enjoying his declarations, Hermione's heart ached at the words as gratitude overwhelmed her.
"I missed you," she whispered softly. The words melted in to Draco's mind as he looked up at the girl before him, her warm chocolate eyes glistening with the threat of tears. Without the need for words, Draco reached up and pressed a deep, firm kiss onto her lips. His hands instinctively reached to squeeze her hips, pulling her closer to him until their bodies were nearly united. His other arm cradled her head, the kiss taking a life of its own. Passion led the two as sparks of desire coursed through them and between them. Hermione felt delirious. Never had she anticipated finding a man who was so attuned to her body, and capable of meeting her level of fiery passion; yet here she was, drowning in the depths of physical ecstasy and they were only kissing. She felt like her entire body ached as he kissed her, needing a sort of release she couldn't even imagine possible.
Draco sucked on her lower lip and trapped it between his teeth causing Hermione to squirm against him. He released her and positioned his arms under her hips where he hoisted her up and on top of him. Hermione could feel his entire body under her now. Whatever arousal he had managed to hide every time they kissed was entirely noticeable now under Hermione's weight; she felt the thick, swollen bulge trapped in dark pants beneath her and it caused her to shiver harshly knowing she was responsible for it. He held her still, as if afraid of what would happen if she moved against his hips. On top of him, Hermione felt a playful surge of power. She gently pulled his hands away from her hips, holding his wrists in hers in the same fashion that he had done to her on the evening of their detention. Testing, carefully watching his reaction, Hermione pressed her hips down and moved her body to grind against him.
"Don't," Draco hissed, releasing a slow exhale as if pacing himself. Hermione smirked and pressed into him again, grinding her hips in a more deliberate circular motion. She wasn't immune to the effects of the motion as it caused a rumble of pleasure to grow in the pit of her stomach, a soft moan escaping her lips. From where he lay, he could see the dusty rose blush forming in her cheeks as heat rushed in her body, her lips slightly parted, eye lids shut as she relished in the sensations. "Granger," he spoke firmly, though his voice deceived him as it came out hoarse and breathy. Her lashes fluttered open as her gaze met his. "Release me," he murmured, more softly. Hermione had forgotten that she had his trapped wrists in her hands, holding them firmly in order to prevent him from reclaiming control over her body. Hermione paused as she considered her options.
"What if I don't?" she spoke with a mischievous smile. He wasn't used to seeing her as a teasing vixen, but Draco was the first to acknowledge that it did something to him that he had never felt before. He was both allured by her power and drawn to the challenge of conquering her. Although Draco could have easily physically overpowered her and forced himself free from her clutches, he decided to be fair and not use his physical strength against her yet.
"You want to play this game, do you?" his silver gaze was unyielding in its intensity, and as Hermione was at the receiving end of the look it forced a shiver to trickle down her spine. For a moment, Hermione felt nervous but it was fleeting as she held his hands tighter together with a nod and buckled her knees together to squeeze her body against his.
He almost regretted his decision as he watched the feisty lioness on top of him, but a decision had been made. Without providing her another opportunity to use his helpless body beneath her, Draco bucked his hips sharply upward, catching Hermione by surprise. In response to being bounced off of him, Hermione released her hands in order to catch herself and prevent her fall. Anticipating her movement, Draco swiftly caught her and placed her on the ground next to him, climbing on top of her. Hermione scowled at him as he chuckled, slowly and deliberately taking each of her hands from her side to pin them next to her head, her wrists pressed into the floor to give her a taste of what it was like to be the trapped and helpless victim.
Draco's lips immediately found their way to her neck, pressing soft and firm kisses over her supple skin. "I was having fun," Hermione half-whispered, the faintest trace of a pout in her voice.
"Oh, you're not having fun now?" he asked with a smirk, pressing his hips hard into her as she gasped sharply at the feel of his body. "Mhmm.." he responded. He pressed kisses lower down her chest, his lips grazing the subtle cleavage that peaked against the hem of her white blouse. He could feel her arching her back beneath him.
Hermione was dizzy. His kisses, his touch, and his silky, charismatic voice caused her mind to go foggy and her body to feel like every nerve was alert and firing. His fingers squeezed around her wrists as they held her helplessly against the ground, his lips traveling south which induced nervous butterflies to flutter in her belly. No boy, well man, had ever been allowed to venture beyond simple snogging. Even Krum, the man who was used to getting his way with women, didn't push too hard when he was met with a resolute 'no' from her. And yet, here, pinned against Draco Malfoy, Hermione's back arched as if begging for him without any apprehension.
"What do you want?" the breathy voice of Draco Malfoy asked as he released one of her wrists and reached to affectionately smooth away her hair which had begun to stubbornly stick to the tiny dew-like droplets of sweat that were forming on her forehead. Hermione's mind, deliriously blank, did not know how to answer that question, and more importantly she knew that her body and brain may have different answers for him. Upon her hesitation to his question, Draco released her other wrist and looked at her earnestly, his demeanor quickly alternating to a serious tone.
Without a response, and with her wrists now free from his grip, Hermione reached up to pull him by the back of his neck down into a kiss. Their lips collided, and with her silent and eager permission his hands explored her frame. A hand hovered hesitantly over her breasts, but the fingers found their confidence as Hermione arched her back again in the midst of the kiss. His fingers delicately unfastened two buttons from her white blouse, and Draco's lips instinctively moved down as he planted kisses on her jaw, collarbone, neck and finally trailed over the soft flesh that was the top of her breast. He noticed that she had worn a nearly sheer bra; it was a warm pink in color, contrasting just barely with her pale ivory flesh, and the fabric was made of an elegant lace which surprised Draco as he never expected her to wear such feminine undergarments.
Admiring the sight before him, Draco ran a long finger over the curve of her breast where the bra ended and her skin began. The sensation caused Hermione to release a soft, contented sigh as her nipples hardened beneath the sheer yet obtrusive fabric of the bra. He could listen to the sound forever, but he felt his instinctive self-control kick in as he clenched his jaw.
"Fuck," he whispered, admiring the vision beneath him as her lashes fluttered open, her face entirely entranced by his every movement, "Granger, you're driving me mad."
Hermione's lips curled in a soft smile, her gaze wandering upwards to the night sky reflectively. "I'm sorry," she apologized playfully, her smile growing, "how could I make it up to you?"
Draco sighed with frustration and lowered himself down onto the heated floor next to her, his arm draping over her body, hand covering the exposed skin of her chest as his thumb ran mindlessly over the curves of her skin. "That's easy," he responded, reaching to press a soft kiss onto her shoulder, "You could promise to be mine."
His words lingered in the open air as Hermione turned to look at him. His usual cold gaze was now burning with hunger and passion. Although he was a master at betraying nothing, Hermione could feel his tone shift as he studied her reaction.
"What do you mean, Draco?" Hermione asked, sitting up onto her elbows.
"I mean," he responded, also sitting up to face her at eye level, "I want you. I think I've made that clear, but I don't just want a part of you - stolen moments here and there - I want you to be mine. I don't want anyone else to have you."
Draco's thumb traced Hermione's jaw as he spoke, cupping her face.
"I've thought about it quite a bit," he continued, "and I know it would be very difficult for you to be with someone who you can't exactly introduce to your friends and family, but I can't help it. I want you to be mine, only mine. I don't want to think about you being with anyone else or snogging someone other than me. Picturing it makes me sick to my stomach," Draco ran a hand through his hair to recuperate from the image, "and I hate that I've become a jealous person but with you, Granger, all bets are off. I don't even recognize myself when I'm with you, and I'm glad for it; you make me better. But you really do drive me mad," Draco released a shaky sigh, the hot breath hitting Hermione's cool skin, "I want you all to myself."
The words felt heavy to Hermione, as if each declaration had released a weight from his shoulders and placed them onto hers. There was silence for a moment, where the only sounds were that of the bubbling pool nearby.
It's not as if she hadn't considered the idea of dating Draco Malfoy; every moment spent apart from him felt like a wasted one, and with every passing day Hermione grew to crave him more and more. No, she wanted him. But something about his intensity gave her pause. She didn't know what it was about the way he spoke of her, as if she was his salvation and the cure to all his maladies, but Hermione felt the same way toward him. And that scared her. Having always been the type to calculate, analyze, and decipher everything, her certainty is what made Hermione nervous.
"Draco," she started.
"Listen," he cut in, "I want you to think about it, you don't need to give me an answer right away; this isn't a small thing I'm asking of you. While I was in the hospital, all I could think about was getting back to you. It really made me realize where my priorities are, and I'd regret not telling you how much I bloody need you, Granger. Gods," he paused and took a deep sigh, " I didn't mean for this to get so heavy, I wanted to bring you here so we could both relax after all that drama with Potter."
Hermione nodded softly, a bit overwhelmed from his outburst as Draco looked around for words, though his gaze landed on the bubbling pool below.
"Let's swim," he announced, "the pool is quite magical, I think you'll love it."
Hermione's gaze drifted to the bubbling pool below them. It was long and round, the water appeared black but Hermione recognized it may very well be a trick of the tile. On the side of the pool were several long silver faucets, and toward the other end the pool pressed directly into the window, providing an infinity-view into the lake.
Without another word, Hermione stood up and walked away. Draco's heart curled into a knot when he thought she was leaving him, but she stopped short of the wall to reach into her book bag. Hermione bent sideways, reaching all the way to her shoulder as she rummaged through the bag and when she pulled her hand out she was holding two articles of clothing.
"I knew this would come in handy some day," she smiled as she lifted the clothing to view, and revealed a crimson two-piece bathing suit.
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