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Chapter 10

"Blood."

Narcissa stood between the two beds like a guardian looking over her two children. One finely manicured eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"What do you mean it is blood?" She asked Madame Pomfrey.

The doors to the hospital wing opened, momentarily distracting Narcissa, but only long enough to offer her husband a small loving smile before turning her eyes back to the medi-witch. When the necklace formed around Hermione's neck as well, Narcissa wanted answers and she was not one to wait on them.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I think I was very clear," Madame Pomfrey said, never being one to fear anyone's tone. "Both their phials contain blood."

"Whose blood?" She demanded.

Madame Pomfrey looked between the two students.

"It's a combination of their blood…a mixture of Miss Granger's and Mister Malfoy's."

Lucius' lips twitched into a snarl as if the very thought disgusted him; one shooting glance from his wife warned him to say nothing, to make not one comment.

"From my best guess, based on the phials of blood," Madame Promfrey continued. "A bond was formed between the two, sealed with their blood in the phials. It can only be broken in death."

Lucius sucked in his breath, finally stepping over to his wife and ignoring the definite glare coming from her.

"And what does this bond do exactly?" He asked, clear distaste for the situation in his tone.

"From the reading I'm getting from the phials it allows them to communicate, in their own minds. They can hear each others thoughts as long as they both wear the necklaces."

"And what does that mean for Draco in this reality?" Lucius asked.

Madame Pomfrey frowned. Lucius' tone, his dislike for Miss Granger and his displeasure at her connection to his son was not lost on the medi-witch and she did not hide her disapproval of his attitude in the least. Even his own wife stepped away from him, sighing in irritation as she turned to begin fussing over the two children.

"It means, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said. "That when your son returns, he will have formed a bond with Miss Granger…a very close intimate bond even you will be unable to break. To break it will be like cutting off one of his limbs."

Lucius stood there snarling and Madame Pomfrey met his hard glare with one of her own, a no-nonsense arch of her eyebrow as she asked, "is there anything else?"

"That will be all," Narcissa said in a much softer, kinder tone in comparison to her husband.

The moment Madame Pomfrey was gone, the door to her office closing behind her, Narcissa looked up at her husband.

"Was that really necessary?" She snapped.

Lucius turned, looking down at his wife sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed, tucking the covers around her before standing and moving to Draco's bed to do the same.

"I said I would say nothing to you mothering the mud…the girl," he said. "I never said I would like it or approve of such a ridiculous bonding between these two."

Narcissa's lips pursed.

"You have no choice in the matter," she said. She stood snatching her purse out of a chair and opening it, pulling out a small picture she always kept with her. She held it out to Lucius. "Take a look, a close look. I will never be able to leave this child…I will continue to support her and look after her and if there is an ounce of decency and understanding left you, if those friends have not thoroughly ripped the man I fell in love with away, then you will understand and your hatred for this girl will stop. She has done nothing to you…nothing you didn't ask for."

Most of the younger students had long since gone to their beds, the busy days at Hogwarts exhausting them and the older students were more concerned with test scores or had simply retired to the quiet of their rooms to finish studying. That left only two people in the common room, nestled on the sofa by the dancing fire.

She moaned against his mouth, the gentle caressing feel of his fingertips dancing up her jaw eliciting small giggles. She slowly brought her knee up, her bare foot lying flat on the sofa and his hand gently resting on her knees before gently sliding up her outer thigh.

"Pet," he mumbled between kisses across her neck.

Her hands ran up his chest and though he loved the soft feel of her hands, it was simply not enough; smothered by the shirt he wore. He tore his lips away, pushing himself up off her just enough to use one hand to pull his t-shirt off his back. He smirked down at her as her dropped his shirt to the floor and her hands, tentative, wary gently ran up his chest, sending chills through his body as he relaxed back on her, the muscles in his back flexing with his movement and his lips finding hers once again.

He had entered beneath the invisibility cloak when she was late and a little second year went running into the common room. It was easy enough to do. And now he was trapped against the wall, his eyes scanning the length of Hermione Granger's body lying beneath Theo. Theo's hand lay flat against the side of her thigh, pushing her leg against him, her skirt barely covering her and Draco felt himself begin to shake. That burning feeling welling up in him feeling like a fire dancing in his chest and he felt his nostrils flare.

Suddenly, unexpectedly the fire in the fire place seemed to burst, a flame shooting up and out as if the fire had grown a mind of its own and had aimed to attack. Hermione screamed a squealing sound of fright and cringed against Theo; the fire, as if sensing her fear jumped back into the calm fire dancing in the fireplace. Hermione pushed slightly, urging him off her.

He sat up, looking around the room as he tossed his shirt back over his head.

"No one is here, Pet," he said, burying his face back into her neck and pulling her closer, almost into his lap.

"Theo," she said pushing him away gently. "I have way too much studying to do."

He sighed against her skin.

"Alright," he said. "Don't be too late."

She stood, watching Theo disappear up the stairs. She was running late. Draco had said to meet her at ten and it was almost eleven. The moment she heard the click of the door closing upstairs she felt someone grab her arm and pull her back, something falling over her, light and airy and arms wrapping around her, pinning her arms to herself, a hand covering her mouth and preventing her scream.

His breath danced across her neck.

"You're late, Granger," he said. "You do want to get back don't you? Or do you prefer staying here and playing the part of Theo's little toy?"

She squirmed out of his grip, turning beneath the invisibility cloak and pushing him against his chest.

"Yes, I want to get back, Malfoy," she hissed. "You said yourself we must play our parts and that is all I'm doing."

She looked away, not liking the way his icy eyes looked down at her from beneath his fallen hair, a slight smirk on his face.

"Interesting," Draco said. "All an act, huh?" She nodded.

"Let's go," she said turning her back to him and beginning her slow movement out of the common room so that they both remained beneath the cloak.

Draco took three steps with her before reaching his arm out and wrapping it around her waist, pulling her back against him. His blond hair fell forward and she could hear the smirk on his face when he spoke, her body stiff against him.

"There is only so much material to cover us, Granger. Stay close or we will be seen."

It wasn't the first time she needed to be alone, needed to get away from the Slytherin common room, away from Theo. There were times he was simply overwhelming to her. He didn't smother her, he didn't come on too strong, it was simply knowing how much he adored her in this reality, seeing the look in his eyes when he would look at her and feeling the way he would quiver sometimes just laying next to her. It was overwhelming to know she had that kind of affect on someone by simply existing. And she longed for the silence being alone would allow.

When she gathered her book and left the common room with the promise to return before curfew she didn't expect to find anyone at the Quidditch Pitch. No one had practice that evening and she figured, hoped it was the one place silence would rein.

There were a few students still scattered about the grounds when she exited the castle, moving toward the pitch. Most of them ignored her; the life of a Slytherin. The fall wind swept around her and she could smell the slightest hint of rain in the air. As she climbed the steps of the stands up to the very top she wondered if the same smell of sweet fall rain filled the air at home, during her normal reality.

She had settled down, facing the length of one of the benches of the stands, her books open before her, the wind pushing her hair back. After a bit, she took a deep breath, stretching, her eyes casting up to the multicolored sky with its dying sun. Slowly she brought her arms down; her eyes cast skyward, frozen, enthralled with the vision before her.

He hovered in the air, above the pitch, like a beautiful mystical angel floating against the back drop of a dying world. He gripped his broomstick tightly; his head hung forward, his blonde locks of hair falling forward. It was like a calling, pulling her from her seat and moving her to the end of the stands, her head thrown back watching him.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling the way his shoulders sagged forward. She was down there, looking up at him with those big bright eyes that just wouldn't leave him, leave his mind. She was everywhere. The only one he had here and he couldn't escape her. And he couldn't explain the voice, the voice that sounded like his own, echoing in his head constantly demanding her safety, demanding his adoration of her.

That was Theo's job.

Not his.

Never had he felt more like the bad guy. Her tears were a constant image in his head, pouring down her face and her broken image curled up on the tower wouldn't go away. How many times had he been the one to make her cry? How many tears had she shed due to him? And then, there was what she had been through, the murder of her parents and he could not fathom her life…could not imagine the utter loneliness she must feel, left alone in a world that was so cold and cruel—the same world that ripped her life apart.

He opened his eyes and his stomach dropped to his feet.

She fell over the edge, tumbling off the platform and falling with an increasing speed to the ground below. There was no time to think, no time to consider what made him do it, what frightened him so. He dove down, his hands gripping his broom so tight his fingers turned white. The voice in his head was screaming for him to go faster, yelling for him to catch her, panic lacing the voice.

He didn't know what it was or where it came from, but it was there echoing in his head with that incessant voice—the knowledge, the overwhelming feeling that he would crash to the ground before he allowed harm to come to her.

Draco swooped down, around her, reaching out with his hand and grabbing her arm tightly, the added weight pulling him down farther, but his quick thinking and expectation of that very thing happening had him prepared and he pulled up sharply, still holding Hermione's arm tightly.

He felt her small hands wrap around his arm, holding on with dear life. Once he leveled out and hovered in the air, he looked down. She hung from his arm, fear in her eyes and some part of her scared he would drop her.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't let go."

He couldn't blame her. Didn't he once wish for her death during the Chamber of Secrets mess? All these years later did she still hold that to heart? He was a kid, a stupid kid who never stopped to think exactly what that would mean. She stared up at him, watching the shift in his icy eyes to pools of melted silver and those eyes behind a mask flashed in her mind again…those eyes that were looking at her as if her presence melted his heart.

"Come on, Granger," he said, pulling her up.

She only released his arm when she was far enough up he told her to grab a hold of him. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly and his arm wrapped around her, pulling her up onto the broom in front of him. He could feel her shaking. He put both hands on his broom, boxing her between his arms. She shifted back slightly when he grabbed the broom again, her hands not leaving his shoulders. The corner of his mouth turned up in a slow smirk.

"I'm not going to drop you, Granger, but could you cease with the heart attacks. That's the second time you've nearly killed me with one."

He watched the myriad of emotions and thoughts cross her face all culminating in a look of utter confusion. Was he actually concerned?

"We don't know yet if when you die here you die in our reality. I'd rather not take that chance and return to the wrath of Gryffindor and the Order for allowing the death of their princess."

He had been flying higher. His bickering with her a clear distraction and Hermione didn't noticed until he sat up again. She looked down, the grip on his shoulders loosening until she saw how far up she was. That was when it dawned on him…her fear of flying was a fear of heights. The Quidditch Pitch stands didn't bother her, she was used to that, but any higher and she was a trembling mess, face buried into his chest and gripping him tightly.

She was terrified. He felt it when she pushed herself against him, the boy that always tormented her, looking to him for safety. He kept one hand on the broom. The other hand tentatively wrapped around her.

"Granger, I'm not going to let you fall," he said matter-of-factly. Her only response was to shake her head and bury herself closer to him. He took a deep breath, dipping his head down, nuzzling his nose gently into her hair.

"Look up, Granger," he said.

He was worried. She would hear…feel the pounding of his heart and his arm seemed to tighten around her the more she shook. He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling unable to breathe.

"Granger," he said pulling her back off him. "Would you just look," he said pointing up at the sky. She still shook beneath his fingers and some part of him, the part that kept talking and saying the most ridiculous of things told him not to let go of her, told him to keep that comforting arm around her.

Hermione was in awe. She felt his arm still around her, but the sensation was lost on the vision he showed her. The fall season had turned the leaves of all the trees surrounding them into varying shades of red, oranges and yellows to fall against the back drop of a sky with its setting sun casting glowing shades of pink and oranges across the sky.

With a slight smirk, Draco reached up, placing his first two fingers beneath Hermione's chin and pushing her mouth shut.

"You look like a fish, Granger," he said, his fingertips lingering where they were.

Her eyes shifted down to him, ignoring his comment.

"It's so beautiful," she said, her eyes sparkling once again.

"Yes, yes it is," he said unsure if he was talking about the fall sunset or if that strange voice in his head was talking about her. As his eyes lingered on her lips, he reminded himself to go to Madame Promfrey and see if she had anything for voices in the head.

"Hold on," he said suddenly, dropping his hand from beneath her and gripping the broom once again.

Hermione had no time to respond or even react to his words, the strange look that was on his face or the strange images of lips caressing the tender flesh of someone's neck, shoulder and lips that flashed in her mind. Draco allowed the broom to begin a drop, falling fast toward the ground.

"DRACO!" Hermione yelled in fright, throwing herself against him and burying her face into his neck as she had done in the library that day. He couldn't help, but to chuckle softly one hand remaining wrapped around her as if to ensure she didn't fall.

He slowed his descent, moving to the area she had been in the stands and hovering just above the platform to allow her to safely get off. He kept a hold of her arm as she climbed off; doing what he could to aid her in keeping her balance. The moment her feet were on the ground, he hopped off his broom only to have Hermione's hand slapping him across the chest and pushing him slightly.

"What?" He asked slightly confused.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again!"

His smirk grew and he shifted on his feet slightly, looking down at her shaking his head.

"I wasn't going to let you fall, Her…Granger!"

She paused, her anger dwindling as she looked up at him...his icy eyes looking almost warm.

"Why don't you call me Hermione? Why Granger?"

"Are we friends, Granger?" He asked as if that could answer the question.

She shook her head and looked down and then up at the sky he had shown her. Somehow it didn't look the same from where she stood.

"No, but we could be…at least while we are here," she said waiting for the ax to fall.

He couldn't help it. Maybe it was that bloody voice again, but she was rather cute when she was nervous. Had she always looked like that? He took a deep breath and looked up as if he were kissing his own arse goodbye.

"I'm not so sure you can handle what all that would entail…Hermione."

And he walked off, passing by her, his arm brushing lightly against her, a smirk on his face and leaving her standing there trying to figure out his words and what they meant. Were they temporary friends now?

Notes: You know the drill! Love you all for reviewing!