Inescapable by DMHP2014
~ Chapter 14 ~
Draco stared out of a window on the first floor corridor, watching Hermione's eyes scan the castle as if it was the last time she'd ever see it. God, he wished he knew what was going through her mind in that moment and what was making her look so despondent and lost. He couldn't imagine what was causing it. She was going home to her family, she should be happy and in high spirits.
He continued to watch Hermione's carriage depart, long after he couldn't make out her figure anymore, until it eventually disappeared behind the trees.
He felt a pang of regret that he didn't get to see her one last time before she left for Christmas break, but with all that went on yesterday it was almost impossible for him to escape Snape's office. He supposed he could have sent her a return note briefly explaining what was going on - he'd received a handful from her asking him where he was and if he was alright - but with Snape breathing down his neck for the better part of the day, Draco didn't think it was wise. Each time a new note would arrive, he'd barely manage to keep the nosy git from reading its contents before he'd throw it into the fireplace where it burned to ashes. Snape would look at him suspiciously, obviously wondering whom all the notes were from, and at one point was even bold enough to outright ask after Draco had burned the 4 - or was is the 5th? - note. Unsurprisingly, Draco had snapped viciously for him to mind his own business, which only heightened Snape's suspicions. It had been a long day to say the least, for more reason than one.
One huge reason being that Draco's father was almost caught and killed by the Death Eaters. Yes, not news Draco had anticipated waking up to on a lovely, yet crisp, Friday morning, but that was neither here nor there. Throughout the day, Draco and Snape had received updates on the presumably dire situation, which Draco had been sure would end in his father's demise. The Death Eaters had chased Lucius halfway across Britain and part way into France, before they unbelievably lost track of him at around 8:30 pm. It had been a long thirteen hour pursuit, which thankfully, for Lucius, ended with his head still intact. How he'd managed that was anyone's guess. Lucky bastard.
God knows where he was now, he could be in Australia for all Draco knew. The whole thing was bloody ridiculous. He wouldn't have even been discovered if he hadn't tried to break into the Manor - imagine having to break into your own sodding home? - Presumably, and this is according to Snape, to try and rescue Narcissa. Although, Draco wasn't convinced. That seemed far too compassionate and honorable for the selfish swine. Yes, Draco was still feeling disgruntled where his father was concerned, but even so, he should have been just a little worried about his father's welfare, considering if he did get caught he would undoubtedly die a horrifying death. As it turned out, Draco wasn't. Lucius had brought this on himself. Also, what on earth was he thinking? Did he honestly think that would work? Draco conveniently blocked out the memory of him contemplating doing the same thing just a few weeks back. This wasn't about his rash stupidity, it was about his father's. All Draco felt towards Lucius at the moment was anger encased in a whopping load of guilt. Guilt, because deep down he knew that he should be feeling worried and concerned. Did that make him a horrible person? Of course it did. Most of the time he was a horrible person. He couldn't change the way he felt though, not when his mother was suffering because of his father's greed for power.
So, that's why he had been in Snape's office all day yesterday, waiting for news on whether his father had survived or not - kind of morbid when it was put like that, but it is what it is.
His father was safe... for now.
Draco turned, intending to head to the Great Hall for some breakfast, when he noticed Blaise leaning against the wall watching him. He had his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets and his right leg bent at the knee as he rested his foot on the walls uneven surface. He would have looked the epitome of cool and casual if it wasn't for his shit-eating grin.
Draco instantly became suspicious, his spidey sense tingling almost uncontrollably. He knew that grin very well and in his experience it meant nothing but bad news. Considering that this wasn't a one off and Blaise had been throwing him that very same grin all morning didn't bode well at all. This was Blaise's shower-me-with-unicorn-dust-because-I'm-fucking-amazing grin. Draco assumed he must have found some dirt... but on who?
"Blaise," Draco nodded, grey eyes narrowing. He took his friend in from head to toe, his expression deeply scrutinizing, letting Blaise know that he was on to him.
"Draco," Blaise nodded back, his grin widening and almost taking over his entire face.
Buggar fucking shit. This was NOT good.
Draco gazed at him, trying to figure out what was causing this nauseating show of jubilation. By the looks of it, it was something mighty juicy and Draco had a horrible feeling that he wasn't going to like it.
"Why aren't you downstairs waiting for the carriages?" Draco asked carefully, his persona one of mild intrigue and not showing a single ounce of the wariness he felt.
"Oh, I just wanted to see my best mate one more time before I left, and maybe give him a hug seeing as he escaped the one I tried to bestow on him earlier this morning. You know, you should feel privileged, I don't just hug anyone. I can count on one hand the amount of people I've gifted with a hug -"
"Gifted with a hug?" Draco interrupted on a bark of laughter. "You think your hugs are gifts?" he chuckled despite himself. He could always count on Blaise for a good laugh, what with all the utter shit that gushed from his mouth like water from the Spout of Garnock.
Blaise smirked. "They're the gift that keeps giving. Once I hug you you'll feel it's warm embrace for the rest of your life. Here," Blaise opened his arms wide, "I'll show you."
Draco abruptly stopped laughing. "Seriously, Blaise. If you try to hug me again. I will hurt you," he warned, taking a tentative step back. "Twice in one day is quite enough, thank you."
Blaise dropped his arms and shook his head in mock dismay. "Why do you have to be so difficult? I know you'll love it. I'm telling you, I'll hug you one day and you'll wonder why you resisted for so long. In fact you'll probably never want me to stop. You'll be demanding me to hug you all the time."
Draco scrunched up his face in disgust, Blaise's talk of hugs thoroughly distracting him from his previous skepticism of why Blaise was even seeking him out in the first place. Because it certainly wasn't for a bloody hug. That was obviously just a ruse. Nevertheless, luckily for Blaise it was working. "Well, that sounds rather inconvenient, how on earth will you get anything done if you have to hug me all the time? If you ask me, I'm doing you a favor. Let it go. Please, just let it go. For Christ's sake."
In truth, Blaise had been trying to hug Draco for as long as he could remember. Yes, it sounded strange - why would Blaise want to hug him so badly? but that's just how he was. Draco imagined that over the years it had become somewhat of a goal or challenge for Blaise. If he did ever manage to hug Draco, he would feel like he'd won some great prize. It was never going to happen, but if Blaise was anything he was persistent. So, nothing Draco did or said deterred him... unfortunately, but Circe had he tried.
Blaise sighed deeply. "Fine, fine. Apparently today is not the day. No matter, we have the rest of our lives -" Draco let out a long suffering groan "- I'll get one out of you eventually, I'm sure of it."
"Don't be so sure," Draco told him. "Not unless you enjoy crushing disappointment."
Blaise ignored him and brought his right hand up to his chin and stroked it in contemplation. "Or Maybe I should just ask Granger how she manages it. I imagine that she has no problem in the hug department, or any department for that matter. Perhaps she can give me a few pointers."
"What?" Draco hissed the sound so sharp it sliced through the air like a hot knife through butter.
"What?" Blaise echoed calmly, his face the picture of innocence.
Draco stared at Blaise for long moments, his heart racing in his chest. His expression must look ridiculous, because the deep shock he was currently feeling was surely written all over it. Had Blaise really just said what Draco thought he'd said? Or had he misheard him? What the fuck?!
"What did you just say?" Draco asked slowly, his voice so low and dangerous it would have had Voldemort second guessing.
Not Blaise though, oh no. "I said," Blaise began conversationally, like he was repeating his picks for the Quidditch final. "I should ask Granger how she manages it because -"
Draco sucked in a sharp breath and slapped a hand over Blaise's mouth, swiftly looking up and down the corridor to make sure no one was listening. Mercifully they were still alone.
Holy fucking shit! How the fuck did he find out about them?
Draco stared at Blaise's face and watched as his friend of so many years blinked back at him, cool as a cucumber, not even the slightest bit ruffled. "Blaise, I want to know what the fuck is going on here, right now!" he growled menacingly. The way Blaise was acting so blasé about it was very telling indeed. He hadn't just guessed at this, or stumbled upon a bit of information and built on it. He'd spoken to someone, Draco was sure of it. And seeing as Blaise hadn't spoken to him, that left only one other person. Granger. Yes, she was Granger again because he was pissed!
Blaise gave him a deadpan look and pointed to Draco's hand that was still covering his mouth.
Oh.
Draco gritted his teeth and removed his hand. He then began pacing up and down, his strides long and forceful like a caged wild animal.
Looking extremely happy with himself, Blaise perched on the edge of the window sill, head turning this way and that as his eyes followed Draco's enraged form. All he needed now was a bowl of popcorn and he'd be all set.
"Well?!" Draco snapped after a full two minutes had passed by, stopping right in front of Blaise and towering over him with his large intimidating form. It would have worked on anyone else, they would have been spluttering and spilling their guts in an instance, but Blaise had always been an anomaly.
"Well, what?" Blaise asked, blinking up at him, his whole aura emanating a sort of peaceful quality, which quite frankly didn't fit the situation and only angered Draco more.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?" Draco all but roared.
Blaise leaned back with the force of it and wiggled his finger in his ear before answering. "Oh that, well, I know about you and Granger," he told the blond, shrugging. "I thought that was obvious. Come on, Draco, Keep up."
Draco's expression darkened. "Don't test me, Blaise," he warned, pointing his finger in the other boy's face. "Not with this. When did she talk to you?"
"Yesterday," Blaise answered, sagging a little. He'd clearly been hoping to mess with him a little more, but could obviously tell that Draco was almost at his limit and knew it wouldn't be good for his health if he pushed the blond any further. So instead, he proceeded to give Draco a brief rundown of how it all came about.
"Un-fucking-believable," Draco muttered once Blaise had finished. "Fucking hell. Thank Christ she went to you and not someone else."
"That's exactly what I said," Blaise nodded in agreement. "She can't lie for shit." Draco shot him a withering look. "Sorry," he offered, holding his hands up in defence, "... but she can't," he finished under his breath.
Of course she bloody can't. Draco already knew that she was a terrible liar, but fuck, this was all his fault. He should have just sent her a quick note back so that she wasn't losing her mind with worry. To be honest, he still couldn't get his head around why she was even worrying about him in the first place. It was a new concept for him and one he was still getting used to, evidently. But what was really throwing him for a loop right now was how well Blaise was taking it all, especially considering he'd only found out yesterday.
Draco threw Blaise a look like he'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. "You're taking this very well," he snapped, his tone accusatory. "I know you're a freak and never react appropriately to situations, but surely you have something to say about this?" he demanded.
Blaise seemed to consider him for a moment before finally answering. "Oh! Yes, actually. Do you think you could ask Granger to put in a good word for me with the lovely Miss Luna Lovegood?" he asked, dark brown eyes wide and expectant.
Draco stared at him in astonishment. "Are you fucking serious? That's all you have to say? You want me to get Hermione to sing your praises to Lovegood? Really?!"
"Well, what else do you want me to say?" Blaise asked, tilting his head to the side and giving Draco a perplexed look.
"I don't know!" Draco exploded in pure frustration. "Maybe yell at me? Call me a fucking idiot. Something along those lines! For Fucks sake, Blaise. Can't you just have a normal reaction for once in your life?" he looked at his friend almost desperately. He wanted to be shouted out, maybe it would give him some much needed strength to do the right thing.
Blaise smiled and stood up. "Draco, you're a smart man... usually," he began sincerely, reaching out to grip the blond's shoulder firmly with his right hand. "You don't need me to tell you how much of a fucking idiot you are... I'm sure you're already well aware of it," he finished matter-of-factly.
Draco smiled, if not a little reluctantly. "Gee, thanks. I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or be horribly insulted."
"Take it as a complisult. Actually, there is one thing I'd like to do, if you don't mind?" Blaise asked graciously, steepling his fingers in front of him.
Draco had barely nodded his head in consensus when Blaise swiftly brought his hand up and smacked him hard across the back of the head.
"Ow!" the blond complained as he rubbed the sore spot, scowling.
"Sorry, but you deserved that."
Draco sighed. "I suppose I did. At least it was a marginally more appropriate reaction, if not a little delayed. Nevertheless, well done."
"Thank you. I'm quite certain that it's far too late to be knocking sense into you now, but that definitely made me feel better, so all's not lost," Blaise told him as he leaned in for a hug.
"Oh, not again," Draco moaned, pushing firmly at his chest and keeping him at arm's length. Blaise puckered his lips and made kissing noises whilst he tried desperately to wrap his arms around the blond. "Fuck off, Blaise," he grumbled, thoroughly disgruntled. "If you kiss me, you will die. Stop it."
"But, why? You hug and kiss Granger all the time," Blaise pouted, looking put out. "It's not fair, I've known you way longer than she has."
"Firstly, that's irrelevant. Secondly, are you jealous?" he half-smirked, half-frowned. "Thirdly, I do a lot of things with Hermione, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do them with you. Stop being ridiculous."
Blaise suddenly beamed, eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth. "I bet you do you horny devil. I want details of all these things you do with Hermione. I haven't had a shag in ages, I need something to think about when I'm -"
Draco gave him a light but effective smack to the cheek. "Don't you dare think about Hermione while you're wanking, otherwise I'll chop it off!" he growled menacingly. "Do you understand?"
Blaise pressed his lips together to hide a smirk. "Perfectly."
Draco stepped back and released a long steadying breath. He had no idea where that had come from, but the thought of Blaise, or anyone for that matter, thinking of Hermione in any sort of sexual manner made him want to commit several vicious murders.
"Bloody hell, mate, you're fucked," Blaise told him rather bluntly, shaking his head in commiseration.
"What? What do you mean? I'm not fucked. Why would I be fucked? Do you mean because of the way I just reacted?" Draco rambled, trying desperately to play the whole thing off as a misunderstanding, but instead coming across like a fumbling lunatic. "That was just a natural reaction to someone wanting to fantasize about my... about my... about, Hermione."
Blaise crossed his arms and pinned Draco with a calculating look. "Uh-uh," he shook his head, his lips pursed. "That was anything but natural. That was sickening. You've never had any problems telling me about your sexcapades in the past, in fact, you'd offer the information up freely, in great detail, without me even having to ask."
Draco sneered, brushing him off. "Whatever, that's not how I remember it. You're a mithering git!" Blaise was about to argue, but Draco cut him off. "Can you just stop? I don't want to talk about it! It doesn't matter anyway. It's not going to last, so what's the point?" he did his best to look indifferent, like he didn't care either way, but deep down he knew that wasn't true, because he did care. More than he should.
"It's not going to last?" Blaise asked, forehead wrinkling. "You really think so?"
"Of course it's not," Draco laughed humorlessly. "What do you think is going to happen when she finds out about..." he trailed off, glancing down at his left arm. She'll run a mile. She'll be disgusted. She'll hate me. He closed his eyes, his fists clenching and jaw tightening.
For the first time during the whole conversation, Blaise actually looked worried for his friend. "Draco, you need to tell her, and if you don't think that you can then you should break it off. Either way, it's only going to hurt you both more in the end if you don't do something. You can't keep going on like this. It's not fair on either of you."
Draco expelled a deep breath through his nose and opened his eyes. The look he was met with made him feel instantly uncomfortable. Blaise knew him very well, probably better than anyone knew him. There was no point in lying and trying to make it look like he didn't care, or it didn't matter, because Blaise would see right through it. Of course, he would pretend to go along with whatever Draco said, that's what good friends do, but Draco was tired, he was sick of pretending. "I know," he nodded. "You're right. I'll talk to her after Christmas break."
"Good," Blaise clapped him on the back. "You never know, she may surprise you. She is a Gryffindor after all. You know what they're like. They do the exact opposite of what you think they'll do. Bloody pain in the arses the lot of them. Anyway, better dash, otherwise I'll be spending Christmas with you."
"Oh, God, no. We can't be having that," Draco joked, giving him a shove. "Say 'hi' to your mother for me, and... what's his name? Frank?"
"No, that was last year's squeeze. This year it's Sergio. Not met the chap yet, but I'm sure he's just as delightful as his predecessors," Blaise smirked, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "Be safe, Draco. I'll see you in a few weeks. Oh, and don't forget, make sure Hermione puts in a good word for me with Luna, preferably before you have 'the talk'... you know, just in case she leaves your sorry arse. At least one of us should be happy, don't you agree?" he winked and turned to walk away.
Draco smiled crookedly and shook his head. Bloody Wanker. That's what he loved most about Blaise though. He never took anything seriously, he could make light of pretty much any situation, no matter what it was. You'd think that would be unhelpful and even anger Draco, and perhaps it did sometimes, but it also kept him from completely losing his shit. He honestly didn't know what he'd do without Blaise, he'd helped him through some of the most difficult of times... with his questionable charm and heavy sarcasm. Yet, Draco wouldn't have him any other way.
The minutes merged into hours, and the hours merged into days, and before Draco knew what hit him it was Christmas day.
For the past week it felt like he had done nothing except work on the cabinet. He was so close to fixing it, yet still so far away. It was incredibly frustrating. He had managed to send inanimate objects through to its sister cabinet in Borkin and Burkes, but they never returned. He just couldn't understand why, he had tried virtually everything, yet it still wasn't functioning properly.
Draco decided that, seeing as it was Christmas, he would give himself the day off and vowed not to think about how much he was fucking everything up. He would attack the cabinet with a clear head first thing in the morning, and spend the rest of the time before the students returned using everything in his arsenal to fix the damn thing, once and for all. He dreaded to think what would happen if he failed. The Dark Lord had been growing increasingly impatient as of late and Snape had told Draco that if he didn't get it fixed, very soon, then there would be hell to pay. Then there was the problem of Dumbledore, the old coot was still alive, not for a lack of trying... actually that was a lie. Draco hadn't really been trying. If he really wanted Dumbledore dead, it would have been done and dusted by now. He didn't particularly like the old bastard, but that didn't mean he wanted to kill him. Draco had been fannying around with a cursed necklace and a poisoned bottle of whiskey, hoping that they would eventually land in the hands of the great Albus Dumbledore and see him off to the afterlife, without Draco really having to do anything. But when had anything been that straightforward and easy? In the end, all Draco had managed to do was nearly kill Katie Bell and Ron Weasley. Christ. That was another thing Hermione would hate him for if she ever found out. If she could ever get past the fact that he was a Death Eater, he very much doubted she'd forgive him for nearly killing one of her best friends, no matter how indirect it was. There was nothing he could do to change it though, so there was no use waxing on about it.
Draco walked into the common room and situated himself in his favorite armchair in front of the roaring fire. It was strange being the only one there when usually it was bustling with activity. Everything was so still and quiet, except for the low crackling flames in the hearth. Even the lake beyond the windows seemed motionless, not a single Grindylow in sight. Draco couldn't figure out if he liked it, or absolutely hated it.
When he didn't turn up for breakfast, the House-elves brought him down some bacon and eggs on toast and a large pot of coffee, probably by the request of McGonagall who was one of the few teachers staying behind this break. He ate slowly, taking his time savoring every bite. Yes, it was only bacon and eggs, but Draco couldn't remember the last time he had actually paid attention to what he was eating. Everything seemed to taste the same these days and most of the time he was shoveling it down his throat too fast to notice anyway. This was a nice change. He wondered if he would ever come to a point in his life again where he'd be able to just sit and take his time enjoying meals. It seemed an impossibility most of the time, but there were moments where hope would seep through. Ironically when he was with Hermione, which was ridiculous and, let's be honest, cruel. After he had his "talk" with her it would all be over. There was no way around it. He had to tell her. Just like Blaise had said, it wasn't fair on either of them. He just needed to gather the strength to do it... or he could end it and not say anything. Draco knew that wasn't right though, he couldn't do that to her, she deserved to know the truth.
After he finished breakfast, he filled his coffee cup and grabbed an old Quidditch magazine off the side table. There was a copy of that day's Daily Prophet lying next to it, but Draco ignored it. He couldn't face reading another article on all the reasons why Lucius Malfoy was on the run, he would rather scratch his own eyes out than read that drivel.
Every so often, he would look up from the magazine and eye the small number of presents under the Christmas tree. They were obviously for him - who else would they be for? But he just couldn't bring himself to walk over and open them. It was probably because he knew that none of them were from his parents, or his mother more specifically. She usually showered him with gifts every Birthday and Christmas and the fact that she wasn't able to do so this Christmas just reminded him of how fucked up everything was. In any other situation there would be a mounting of gifts waiting for him, no matter what, his mother would make it happen. It's not like he even cared about the fucking gifts, it was just that the reason behind their unmistakable absence was like a punch to the gut. So, he left them there, beautifully wrapped and untouched.
Sometime around 4:30 pm, after waking up from a two hour nap, Draco got up and decided to go and take a nice long hot shower. Mainly to waste away some more of the day, but also because he felt rather disgusting after his impromptu snooze.
As it turned out, a shower was just what he needed. He spent a good half hour cleaning himself from head to toe, using several of his favorite products. Blaise and Theo always laughed at how many different body and hair potions he had, but Draco didn't see anything wrong with taking proper care of one's own self, and why shouldn't he smell great while he's doing it? There was nothing worse than stinky teenage boys. Draco could vouch for that, there were several in his year alone. Thankfully, Draco didn't have to share a dormitory with any of them. Vile creatures. Although, Theo was known to stink the place out now and again, but it was easily fixed with a kick up the arse in the direction of the showers.
Once he'd finished his shower, he stepped out and quickly dried himself with a towel before pulling on a loose pair of grey sleep trousers. It was so freeing not wearing any underwear, he should really do it more often. He decided to forgo a t-shirt as he was massively overheating from his piping hot shower.
He roughly towel dried his hair and then quickly ran a comb though his damp platinum locks as he looked at himself in the mirror for what felt like the first time in weeks. He noticed that his hair had grown a few inches on top and now fell messily across his forehead, just stopping to brush the tops of his eyebrows. The sides were still short and looked neat enough, so he didn't bother himself with a trimming spell. He wouldn't allow it to grow much further though, he couldn't stand long hair. It reminded him of his father and he had plenty of his father's features to be getting on with. All in all, he supposed he didn't look as bad as he thought he would. It was most likely due to his shower, his skin looked as if it was glowing and was flushed a pleasant rosy pink making him look young and full of life. Yet, he couldn't help but notice that his face did look different, he just couldn't figure out why. His eyes were the same ice grey they'd always been and his cheek bones and jawline were as prominent as ever. Perhaps it was his stubble? No, that couldn't be it. He'd been rocking stubble for a while now and it was so fair you could barely see it anyway.
What was it?
Draco rested the heel of his palms on the lip of the sink, fully supporting his upper weight, and leaned closer to the mirror. He stared at his face, thoroughly examining it as if that would help him figure out why his face looked so familiar, yet so alien at the same time.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from inside one of the shower cubicles and, startled, Draco's left hand slipped from beneath him, causing the inside of his forearm to hit the edge of the sink.
"Motherfucker!" he growled, gritting his teeth together in pain. He gazed down at his forearm, seeing nothing, but feeling fire.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Of course, ordinarily, that wouldn't have hurt. He wasn't a pussy... at least not anymore, but he'd hit it directly where his Dark Mark was situated and fucking hell did it hurt! It felt like hellfire was literally licking its way up his arm.
Draco grabbed his wand from next to the sink and aimed the tip at his forearm before hesitating... Shit. He was afraid to look at it, he hadn't dared to in weeks. Every morning he would simply reinforce the existing Glamour Charm and be off on his merry way. The pain had been increasing day by day, and at times was unbearable, but he'd been stupidly ignoring it. On several occasions, he'd even attempted to mask it with pain potions, although sometimes they didn't work that well. He'd known from the feel of it that it must be bad - hence the reason he didn't want to look at it - but he couldn't do anything about it, so what was the point in worrying himself sick? He had enough going on in his life without panicking that his arm was about to fall off at any minute. Instead, he'd just tried to pretend that everything was fine and hoped that it would eventually sort itself out. Clearly, that wasn't working out so well.
Steeling himself, Draco hastily spelled away the Glamour Charm and gasped at the hideous sight that met his eyes.
"Oh fuck," he breathed, staring at his arm in disgusted horror.
What a mess, what an absolute fucking mess.
It was inflamed, bloodied and weeping - way worse than it had been a few weeks ago. His whole forearm was bruised in alarming shades of purple and blue, it looked as though someone had decided to take their frustrations out on his arm with a large blunt object. Despite all this, the Dark Mark was there, large and unmistakable, in the center of all the devastation. He had been joking before about his arm falling off, but looking at it now it looked as though it could be a possibility. It was bad and was clearly getting worse. What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn't go to the hospital wing and ask Madam Pomfrey to heal it for him.
Draco dropped his wand into the sink and began to yank open the long row of cupboards, one by one, searching for anything that might help. He found a bottle of pain potion and a pot of salve used for minor cuts and bruises.
He pulled the stopper out of the pain potion with his teeth and spat it out across the room. It hit one of the counters and bounced off to roll across the tiled floor and into one of the shower cubicles. He swiftly knocked the potion back in one, draining every last drop, not bothering to read the label, which said; Warning, do not exceed 5ml in a 24 hour period.
Draco dropped the empty bottle into the bin and opened the jar of salve. Thankfully, it was the odorless kind, so Draco's nostrils wouldn't assaulted in the process. It burned as he smeared the thick jelly-like substance all over his arm, rubbing it gently into his tender skin and adding extra where needed.
Once he was finished, he inspected his work. Draco could see some of the bruising disappearing before his eyes, but he could also see new bruises popping up to replace them. What the fuck? He frowned deeply. He'd never seen anything like it. It must be the Dark Magic that was causing it. The bleeding and weeping had mostly stopped though, so that was something, but the skin hadn't healed like it was supposed to. He couldn't complain though because his arm did feel better, the pain was nowhere near as bad as it had been, although he assumed that was down to the potion, not the salve.
Grabbing his wand he cast a swift Glamour charm and watched as his arm turn back to "normal". He tried not to think about the fact that he'd had to cast it all the way up to his bicep to hide the bruising that seemed to be spreading at an alarming rate. He would have to keep an eye on it from now on and if it came to it, he would have to tell Snape. He didn't relish the idea, but he had no one else. Snape was smart, he should be able to stop whatever was happening to him. Hopefully.
Draco left the bathroom and drifted his way up the stairs to the common room, at least it felt like he drifted. Clearly the pain potion was kicking in, and if he was being honest, it felt really fucking good.
"Mr Malfoy?" came a concerned, yet austere tone.
Draco froze mid-step and turned toward the sound of the voice. "McGonagall?" he said, surprise coloring his tone. "I mean, Professor."
What the hell was she doing here?
They stared at each other for several uncomfortable seconds, at least Draco was uncomfortable, McGonagall looked as severe as ever. He tried not to think about the fact that he was half naked and not wearing any underwear. Fuck. Could she tell? The trousers were very thin and Draco was sure that if she cared to look she would most definitely see the outline of his flaccid cock.
But of course she wasn't looking at his cock. This was McGonagall, not Pansy bloody Parkinson.
"Are you alright, Mr Malfoy?" she asked, eyes narrowed in a speculative manner. "I came as soon as I received your note."
"My note?" Draco asked, a frown wrinkling the space between his eyebrows. "What note?"
McGonagall sighed and tilted her head to the side. "Do you mean to say that you didn't send me a note to say you were sick, Mr Malfoy?"
"No," Draco said slowly, cracking his knuckles in a very uncharacteristic fashion. He felt unusually awkward standing there in front of McGonagall virtually undressed, he didn't have the faintest idea what to do with his hands. More importantly though, who the fuck would send her a note pretending to be him?... Christ, it must have been Blaise, the pillock. He was probably hoping that Draco was making good use of the empty common room and tugging himself off all over the place.
McGonagall's lips thinned. She didn't look pleased about being misled. "I had my suspicions. It did seem very out of character for you, but I couldn't very well ignore it in case you had been ill. Do you have any idea who could have sent it?" she asked, tone stern.
Yes. Blaise - gobshite - Zabini.
Draco shook his head. "Sorry, Professor. I have no idea."
She tutted and looked towards the heavens. "Well, seeing as you're alright, I shall leave you to it. I take it you're not joining us for Christmas dinner?" she pursed her lips, eyebrows raised.
"No," Draco smiled tightly. "I'm not really feeling up to it."
"Suit yourself. I will have the House-elves send you something down," she told him as she turned to walk away. She paused and gazed at the unopened presents under the Christmas tree, her forehead wrinkling slightly. Draco's shoulders stiffened in response, he was positive that she was about to comment on them and was ready to tell her to mind her own sodding business - so what if she was a Professor? That didn't give her the right to be a nosy cow - but all she said was. "Merry Christmas, Mr Malfoy."
Draco nodded once, if not a little stiffly. "Merry Christmas, Professor," he responded, his tone more on the cooler side. He waited until the wall sealed itself behind her before he turned to throw himself on one of the couches.
Fucking hell, he needed a drink.
Draco curiously glanced towards the tree and spotted a garishly wrapped present that was conspicuously shaped like a bottle.
Oh please be something palatable.
Draco rolled sideways off the couch and walked over to snatch the present from under the tree.
He tore off the luminous pink and gold wrapping paper and instantly moaned in deep satisfaction. It was only a bottle of Ogden's finest. Thank you, Merlin and whomever had been gracious enough to gift it to him. He flipped the gift card over and read:
Merry fucking Christmas, you miserable bastard. I thought you'd appreciate this.
Love you with all my heart.
Blaise x
Draco grinned. "Ah, Blaise. It seems you have redeemed yourself," he pulled out the cork and took a long swig as he turned to make his way back to the couch. He and the firewhisky were about to get very intimate, in the sense that he was about to devour every last drop of it.
He was only about halfway back to the couch, and in the process of taking his second pull from the bottle, when he walked right into something rather solid and decidedly human-like. At least it felt human-like, he couldn't say for sure as whatever it was was thoroughly invisible.
Draco spat the firewhisky out, spraying it impressive lengths across the room. He stumbled backwards and stared at the empty space in front of him. There was nothing there, no slight shift in the air, no glimmer or shine... this wasn't a Disillusionment Charm. This was something else.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" Draco demanded, his senses tingling into overdrive. He recorked the bottle and placed it on the nearest table, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He could think of only one thing that could render someone so completely invisible, and there was only one person in the entire Wizarding World who had one.
Draco gritted his teeth together hard.
If Potter revealed himself now, he would kill him. He would take his bare hands and strangle the life right out of the insufferable prick.
"I'm warning you, if you don't show yourself, right -" Draco broke off, his mouth falling open.
What the fuck?
Draco stared in shock as a head full of wild curls materialized in front of him.
"Hermione? What the fuck are you doing here?" he commanded more harshly than he'd meant to. But fuck, what was she doing here?... How?... Why?
Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking nervous as hell. "Well," she began taking a deep calming breath as she looked anywhere except at Draco. "I was at the burrow with... you know, everyone. We were having the most magical day," she paused to wring her hands, her expression one of great distress. "My parents were there, we'd just finished eating dinner and we had all moved to congregate in the living room to listen to the wireless, drink butterbeers and sing some carols - terribly, I might add - when I suddenly realized... I didn't want to be there," she glanced up, fixing Draco with a gaze that seemed to suck all the air out of the room.
Draco swallowed, staring at her intently as he waited for her to continue. His mind racing and his heart thudding forcefully in his chest.
"On paper, it was the perfect Christmas Day. I was surrounded by the people I love, my belly was full and there was laughter all around me, but -" she stepped towards him, reaching her hand out and placing it on his bare chest, "- all I could seem to think about was you, and that you were here, alone. No one should be alone at Christmas," she said softly, brushing her fingers along his collarbone and relishing in his slight shudder.
Draco stood rooted to the spot, trying to absorb everything she'd just said, whilst also trying to figure out what the hell it all meant. As far as he could gather, she'd left her family and friends, on Christmas Day, so that she could be with him. Draco was sure that's what she'd just said, but how could that be? Why would she do that, for him. Was he tripping? Had he consumed too much of that pain potion? Perhaps she wasn't even here at all and he was simply hallucinating?
"Aren't you happy that I came?" she asked after a full minute of silence had passed by without Draco so much as uttering a sound. She dropped her hand to her side and glanced away from him. "I probably should have let you know first, but I wanted to surprise you," she shook her head slightly and it looked to Draco as if she was second-guessing her decision to come.
"Hermione," he gripped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "I'm happy," he told her firmly. "Of course I am. I just..." he trailed off, stroking her cheek with his thumb as his eyes roamed her flushed face. She was here. She was really here. This was crazy. "... I don't understand. Why would you leave your family and friends to come and see me?"
Hermione blinked up at him, her eyes bright. She looked terrified. "I don't know," she whispered, the sound coming out breathless and a little choppy. She did know. She just didn't want to tell him... or perhaps she didn't want to admit the truth to herself. Either way Draco wasn't going to push it.
Draco brought his other hand up so that he was cupping each side of her face. Deep down, beneath all the denial and confusion, he knew the reason she was here wasn't good. No. It was fucking devastating, but that didn't stop the intense warmth from spreading through him and making him feel a certain kind of way. He was completely torn. Part of him wanted to tell her to go, leave! Never speak to him again. And another part of him wanted to pull her close and squeeze her so fucking tight that she couldn't breathe. They were idiots. Both of them were absolute fucking idiots.
Draco didn't tell her to leave, and he didn't squeeze the air out of her either. What he did was lower his head and kiss her. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until she melted against him like hot wax.
Hermione hummed the sound deep and reverberant. "God, I've missed this," she quietly confessed against his lips, her hands running over every inch of exposed skin - his arms, his chest, his abs.
Draco felt her hand inching lower and groaned when she suddenly gripped his cock through his trousers. They were so thin it almost felt like there was nothing between them. It felt incredible. He hadn't had any pleasure since the last time they'd been together, not wanting the dissatisfaction of touching himself. What was the point? It was nothing compared to how it felt being buried deep inside her.
Draco slipped his hands into the back pockets of her jeans and pulled her flush against him. He hadn't realized it with everything that had been going on, but he'd missed this too. This past week and a half, Hermione had been in his thoughts, lingering there in the background, it was just that the cabinet had been a more dominating presence. Now that she was here though, Draco couldn't think of anything except how much he wanted to consume her, in every sense of the word.
He began to remove her clothes, swiftly and efficiently, until she was standing in front of him gloriously naked. He ran his eyes up the length of her legs, stopping to gaze at her glistening lips, before continuing up her torso, over a flat, yet soft, stomach and beautifully rounded breasts that fit in his hands so perfectly it was as if they were made just for him.
Draco saw it then, the white gold necklace and emerald pendant that rested snugly below the hollow of her throat. His eyes flicked up to hers and she smiled, bringing her hand up to finger it lovingly. It looked absolutely stunning on her, but of course, he'd known all along that it would.
She opened her mouth to say something, probably thank him, but Draco grabbed her and spun her around, lowering her onto the rug in front of the fire.
He shoved his trousers down his thighs and kicked them the rest of the way off as he entered her in one fluid motion, a guttural groan spilling from his parted lips. There was nothing gentle in his movements, he drove his cock into her again and again, his thrusts deep and powerful. He trailed his right hand along her thigh and gripped it firmly as he hoisted her leg up and over his shoulder.
Hermione cried out, throwing her head back, and digging her nails into his broad shoulders. "Draco," she moaned brokenly. "Oh God, Draco."
Draco looked down at her face, cataloging all the different emotions that flitted across it, loving the way her mouth fell open whenever he hit that sweet spot. She was beautiful, there was no denying it and when her eyes suddenly opened and their gazes met - cinnamon to silver - Draco found himself trapped, unable to look away.
"Draco," Hermione breathed, brows drawing together. She brought her hand up to cup one side of his face, her eyes wide and troubled. "I think I l-"
Draco slammed his lips against hers and pounded into her hard, his hips pumping so savagely, so unforgivingly, that he was sure Hermione had forgotten her own name. He didn't stop his punishing rhythm until she was shaking and screaming his name in ecstasy, her orgasm tearing through her in huge devastating waves.
Draco gasped at the feel of her walls tightening around him and let out a deep panting groan as he came forcibly inside her. It felt amazing, like he was marking her. His. And his alone.
After a minute, he pulled out of her and rolled to the side, tugging her with him so that she half lay on top of him, her leg over one of his thighs. He wrapped his right arm around her tightly, whilst he trailed his left hand up and down the length of her arm. He'd never done this with her before. He'd never done this with anyone before. Draco wasn't one to cuddle, or be overly affectionate, but in this instant he wanted to be. It was Christmas. Hermione had left her family and friends and come all this way just to be with him. The least he could do was show her how grateful he was, because he was grateful, very much so. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he hoped this was enough.
Hermione snuggled into him, her body molding against his perfectly. She kissed his chest and drew little patterns on it with her index finger. "That was so much better than staying at the burrow," she smirked, glancing up at him.
Draco smirked back at her. "I take it Potter's and Weasley's singing doesn't do it for you?" he asked drily.
Hermione scrunched up her face and laughed. "Absolutely not! They're bloody awful. They sound like dying cats. I'm glad I got away when I did."
Draco narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. "Speaking of, how did you get away? It can't have been easy, what with Potter and his meddling tendencies... wait a minute," Draco bolted upright, jostling Hermione in the process. "What about the map? I'm sure Potter has been scouring it like a fiend watching my every move. Nosy fucking twat. What if he sees us?"
"Easy tiger," Hermione laughed, placing a calming hand on his shoulder as she pushed him back down again. "Did you forget who I am?" she asked, lifting her leg to straddle him.
Draco let out a soft grunt as his cock slid between her wet folds and became instantly hard again. "No. I know exactly who you are," he answered thickly, thoroughly distracted, his hands running up and down the length of her smooth thighs. He took in the sight of her - legs spread wide astride his hips, his cock pressed firmly along her center.
"Then you're well aware that I'm considered to be the smartest Witch of our age? And would the smartest Witch not think of every possible outcome before doing something as risky as sneaking into Hogwarts castle to rendezvous with the prince of Slytherin?" she asked him, a smug smirk firmly in place.
"You're not that smart," Draco told her plainly, gripping her arse cheeks in both hands and squeezing. "So, all your self-righteous talk has done absolutely nothing to ease my concerns."
"Excuse me?" she pinched his left nipple, eliciting a sharp hiss from between his teeth. "What do you mean I'm not that smart?"
"Well, you're shagging me," he raised his brows at her, knowing that he had her cornered. It was a solid argument. "I'd say that's far from smart, in fact, it's pretty fucking stupid if you ask me."
"That's not... Well... maybe a little... but you're involved in this too, so that makes you stupid as well," she crossed her arms and scowled down at him.
Draco grinned, showing her his perfect set of pearly whites. "I never said I wasn't stupid. I know I am. But this isn't about me, I'm not the one with my nose in the air claiming otherwise," he brought his hands up to shield his head as Hermione took a swipe at him. Her breasts jumped and jiggled enticingly with her movements and Draco found his hands instantly gravitating towards them.
"Oh, yeah," she began sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You seem really concerned right now," she looked down at his hands that were happily fondling her breasts.
He shrugged. "What can I say, you're an excellent distraction," he lifted his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, ripping a sharp cry from her lips.
"Harry's with Ginny tonight," Hermione gasped as Draco teeth scrape against her nipple. "Trust me, he will not be looking at the map. I'm quite certain that Ginny will be keeping him very busy for most of the night."
Draco groaned and fell back on the rug, flinging his arm over his face dramatically. "Fucking hell, I did not need that imagery in my mind," he complained, scrunching up his face in disgust. "Was it absolutely necessary to impart that bit of information to me? You could have just lied and said something else."
Hermione giggled. "No! It's their first time," she told him. "Harry's been so wrapped up in her all day, he didn't even notice when I snatched his cloak right from under his nose."
"Ew. I really don't want to hear about Potter being wrapped up in anyone, especially Weaslette," he made a gagging noise. "Oh God, I actually think I might throw up."
"Stop it," Hermione chastised. "There's nothing wrong with Ginny, or Harry, for that matter."
Draco looked up at her and rolled his eyes. Here she was defending her friends again. Was it strange that that was one of the things he admired most about her? That she was so unbelievably loyal and true to those she was close to. It seemed that Potter and Weasley could do no wrong in her eyes - not long term anyway. Perhaps Draco was just hoping that she'd extend the same courtesy to him when he finally told her the truth... Fucking hell, he was really grasping at straws if he was entertaining the idea that she would put him in the same category as those two pricks. It was never going to happen. What he'd done this past year was utterly unforgivable.
"What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out to smooth away the line between his brows.
"Nothing," he lied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So, tell me, how did you get onto the grounds?" he asked curiously, swiftly changing the subject. "I know Flitwick warded the gates closed after everyone left."
"Oh, I had a little help from a friend," she let loose a secret smile, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
Draco squinted up at her dubiously. "What friend?" he asked, watching her smile grow more sly by the second. She looked terribly Slytherin-esque. He kind of liked it. "Good grief, please don't tell me you've befriended a House-elf?" he let out a deep, rather impatient, sigh.
Hermione tutted. "What's wrong with befriending a House-elf?"
Draco wrinkled his nose. "What's wrong with it?" he asked incredulously. "What's right with it?" he countered, giving her a deeply concerned look. Surely she wasn't being serious?
"Don't be ridiculous! House-elves make lovely companions..." she paused, considering her words, "... at least they do when they aren't self-harming -"
"Christ, woman," he began, incensed. "They self-harm because you're forcing them to do something they aren't programmed to do! They are House-elves, they are made for servitude, not friendship."
Hermione shot him a dangerous look, her hands coming up to find her hips in an unequivocally disciplinary fashion. Oh, here we go. He was about to get his arse handed to him on a plate. Draco could appreciate the image she was trying to portray. She wanted to intimidate him, show him she meant business, but that was kind of hard to achieve when you were butt-arse naked. "Programmed?!" she screeched in tones far too high for Draco's poor ears. "They are living souls, you arsehole, not machinery! Besides, they are like that because of bigoted pure-blood supremacists! The fact that enslavement still exists is simply inconceivable!"
"Arsehole? Bigoted pure-blood supremacists? Wow, tell me how you really feel?" Draco remarked sarcastically.
"I am!" she told him rather bluntly as she crossed her arms under her breasts. "Git."
Draco smirked, his eyes dropping to ogle them. "By all means, keep yelling at me and calling me names, it's only turning me on more," he told her, grinding his cock up against her heat to prove his point.
Hermione gasped, her cheeks flushing a delicious shade of pink. "Oh..." she closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his cock sliding between her folds. After several agonizing moments, Draco stopped and she blinked her eyes open, clearing her throat. "We seem to have gotten side-tracked," she muttered. "Now, where was I again?... Ah yes, how I made it onto the grounds. It wasn't a House-elf that let me through the gates - although I do have several House-elves that I'm proud to call friends, and I'm sure would have happily obliged in helping me if I'd been able to get hold of them," she glared at him, daring him to say one word on the matter.
Draco pressed his lips together. Should he tell her that she was a deluded fool? Or just let her keep dreaming? If somehow she had been able to get hold of a House-elf and asked them to open the gates, they most certainly wouldn't have done it without getting either Dumbledore's or McGonagall's permission first, but he wisely decided not to voice that particular notion out loud. Instead he just nodded. "Of course. So, if it wasn't one of your little House-elf friends, who was it?" he asked indulgently, eyebrow raised in question.
"It was Hagrid," Hermione grinned, seemingly happy now. Her previous vexation apparently forgotten.
"The half-breed?" Draco deadpanned. My, but she had questionable friends - Potter, Weasley, House-elves and part giants?
Hermione threw him a withering look.
"I was just clarifying," he held up his hands in defence. "Carry on."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I passed through his fireplace. He's not supposed to use magic, so he couldn't lift the wards on the gate."
"Interesting," Draco hummed. "And wasn't he at all curious as to why you needed to sneak into the Castle on Christmas Day?" If Draco was in the half-breeds position he would have wanted to know, demanded it even.
"I said I needed a book from the Library and that it was vitally important that I got it right away," Hermione answered looking pleased with herself.
Draco on the other hand looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Are you're telling me that pathetic excuse actually worked?"
"Yes, like a charm," she batted her eyelashes. "I mean, it is me we're talking about. It's definitely something I would do. In fact, I think I might pop in there on my way out. There was a book I wanted to grab before I left, but I didn't have time."
Draco chuckled. Why wasn't he surprised that she wanted to pay the Library a visit before she left? She had literally only been gone from the castle for a week and would be returning next week. She was ridiculous. "Alright bookworm, but that doesn't explain how you got into the Slytherin common room... wait a minute, that was you who sent the note to McGonagall!" he gazed at Hermione in astonishment. Admittedly, he would have caught on a lot sooner, but with the shock of her suddenly appearing out of nowhere and their mind-blowing romp on the rug, he'd quickly forgotten that McGonagall had paid him a visit. Also, let's be honest, it was so unlike her. "I thought it was Blaise being a dick," he told her. "I can't believe you willing hoodwinked a professor," he said this the with utmost respect.
"Guilty," Hermione confessed, holding her hand up.
"Yes, you are," he growled lowly. "Naughty little Witch."
"Don't you mean clever little Witch," she amended, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a smug fashion.
Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down into a kiss. They kissed slowly and sensually for several moments before the sound of a loud pop startled them apart.
"What the hell was that?" Hermione hissed, her heart thundering in her chest.
Draco glanced over her shoulder and then sighed. "That was my dinner being delivered."
Hermione turned around, her eyes landing on the table, which was now filled with a mounting of food. "Oh," she muttered, breathing a sigh of relief as she moved to stand up.
Draco grabbed her hand and tugged her back down. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, eyes boring into hers.
She smiled, reaching her arm out to run a hand through his hair. "You should eat," she told him.
"I was just about to," he responded cheekily, licking his lips as he ran his eyes over her luscious curves.
"I mean you should eat food," she emphasized, smirking at the frown he bestowed on her. "We have plenty of time for that. Now come on," she stood up, pulling him along with her.
"Fine," he sighed in acquiescence. "But you can't get dressed. You have to stay like this all night," he pressed the long line of his body against her back, his arms snaking around her middle as he nuzzled is face into her hair and breathed in deeply.
Hermione leaned back into him and rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She tilted her head to the side slightly, giving him better access to her neck.
Draco instantly lowered his head, his mouth finding her pulse point and sucking firmly.
She moaned throatily, the sound vibrating against his lips in the most delicious way.
Gently, Draco's right hand began to creep down her stomach, his destination clear, when Hermione suddenly grabbed it, tutting disapprovingly. "Eat first," she commanded. "If you can't behave yourself I'll have to put my clothes back on."
"Don't you dare," he husked, his breath fanning across her skin and causing goosebumps to appear in its wake.
"Be a good boy then and do as you're told," she said, pushing away from him.
Draco pulled her back against him in one swift motion. "What's the point in being good when you can be bad?" he quipped, hand creeping south again.
"Draco," she warned her tone deep with authority.
Draco growled. "Tease," he hissed, the sound accusatory, but in truth he loved it when she got all bossy on him. Ha, who would have fucking thought? "Just you wait till' later."
Hermione smirked as he let go of her and they made their way over to the table.
Draco sat down first, grabbed the bowl of roast potatoes, and began eating them with his fingers. He looked completely cool and relaxed, despite his nakedness. "Are you going to eat something?" he asked.
"No way. I've eaten far too much today already." One corner of her mouth lifted as she watched him make his way through the potatoes. "Are you going to have anything else with those?" she asked, thoroughly amused. "Beef? Carrots? Some gravy perhaps?"
"Nope," he answered, making a popping sound with his lips. "I love roast potatoes."
"I can see that," she giggled.
"What's your favorite part of Christmas dinner?" he asked, picking up another potato and eating it.
"Sprouts."
"Sprouts?" he exclaimed, wrinkling his forehead in disgust. "What is wrong with you?"
"They are very underrated," she told him primly, crossing her legs at the knee. Draco noticed that she seemed a little uncomfortable sitting there naked, but he refrained from asking her if she would like a blanket. He figured it would do her some good. She needed to relax more, learn to be more comfortable in her own skin. "Try one."
"No, thanks. I know exactly what they taste like and I'd rather not assault my taste buds with their foulness," He placed the bowl of potatoes back on the table and reached for the nearly forgotten bottle of firewhisky. "Would you like some?"
Hermione deliberated for a few seconds before answering. "Sure," she shrugged, a small smile gracing her lips. "It is Christmas after all. Thank you," she said as Draco handed her a glass of the smoking amber liquid.
Draco watched her closely as she took a tentative sip.
Hermione hummed, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Wow, it's so smooth. Nothing like the last firewhisky I tried," she grimaced at the memory.
Draco smiled crookedly. "That's because it's Ogden's, the finest firewhisky in Britain. You can't get much better than this."
Hermione nodded, taking another sip. "Was it a gift?" she asked in an almost breezy sort of manner. The casual question would have worked if not for the way her eyes bore into his.
Draco stiffened, not liking the direction their conversation was going. She had obviously seen his unopened presents under the tree and was surely wondering why he hadn't opened them. "Yes," he answered, knocking the rest of his firewhisky back in one before placing his glass down and refilling it. "It was from Blaise. Apparently he's not as useless as I've always believed him to be. This was an exceptional gift."
"Oh, you don't mean that," she tutted, sliding her drink onto the table. "You and Blaise seem really close. You wouldn't keep him around if that was how you really felt about him."
Draco eyed her studiously. "You're right. I don't mean it," he began, casually stretching his legs out in front of him. Hermione's eyes dropped to run a slow sensual path from his feet to his cock, where they froze, her eyes drinking in the glorious sight of him. "Blaise is one of very few people I trust. I mean, he kept his trap shut after you told him about us. That's got to count for something."
Hermione's eyes flashed up to his, a guilty expression clouding her features. "So, he's already told you?" she asked sheepishly.
"He has," Draco confirmed, gazing at her, his face blank of all emotion.
She ducked her head and brought her hands up to cover her breasts. Draco frowned at the action, but didn't say anything. "Are you angry?" she asked, her eyes coming back up to meet his.
Draco narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head to the side. "Do I look angry?" he asked, effectively turning her question back on her.
"It's hard to tell, your expression rarely changes," she replied honestly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
One of Draco's eyebrows raised up a notch. "Is that so. Well, do you think I should be angry?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed, looking towards the ceiling and shaking her head. "I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have approached him. I wasn't thinking clearly, obviously."
"That doesn't sound like you," he commented, leaning across the table to refill her glass. "You're Hermione Granger - brightest Witch of our age. I thought you always thought clearly and rationally."
"I do," she confirmed, her eyes hardening. "Except when it comes to you. All logic and reason seems to swiftly leave me... it's -" she broke off and noticeably swallowed.
"What?" Draco pushed, leaning forward in his chair, his tone low.
Hermione stared at him her eyes just that little bit too wide. He could tell that she wanted to say something, whatever it was was on the tip of her tongue, but she wouldn't, of course she wouldn't, because like him she was a pretender. She smiled suddenly and straightened in her seat. "It's frustrating, that's what it is," she attempted to laugh it off, but she wasn't kidding either of them.
Draco slowly released the breath he'd been holding and sat back in his chair, his posture relaxing as he grabbed his glass and took a long drink. "Well, I'm not angry. I would have sent you a note back, but Snape was being a nosy sod. I couldn't get a minute to myself to compile a response."
Hermione smiled appreciatively. "Still, I shouldn't have lost my mind the way I did. It won't happen again, I promise," she picked up her glass and took a deep swig. "So, why were you in Snape's office?" she asked curiously. "Is everything alright? I thought it might have been about your dad."
Draco stared at her, his jaw working. He wanted to tell her, he really did, but he also didn't want to ruin the night with talk of his father's near demise.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Hermione offered softly, after long moments of silence. "Everything is OK though, isn't it?" her brow puckered in concern.
No. It's not. Everything is far from OK.
Draco was desperate to tell her the truth about what was going on - the whole truth. It was eating him up inside and quite frankly he was sick and tired of the constant lies, it was exhausting. But tonight wasn't the night, he wanted to enjoy what time he had left with her before she left to go back home. He didn't want to spoil it by revealing all the lies he'd told over the last few months. He could tell her everything after Christmas break. It was the right thing to do. It was the kind thing to do. "Everything's fine," he lied, his lips lifting into an easy smile.
Hermione gazed at him, her eyes sharp and intense. It was almost like she didn't believe him. "If everything's fine, then why haven't you opened your Christmas presents yet?" she asked, brows drawn together.
Christ. Draco thought he'd gotten away with that. "No reason," he shrugged, the epitome of cool indifference. "I simply haven't gotten around to it. You can open them for me if you like?" he smirked.
Although he looked calm and collected on the outside, on the inside he was praying fervently that she'd just drop it.
She gave him a peculiar glance as she brought her hand to her glass, running her middle finger around the rim. "They're your presents," she told him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You should open them. I'll watch and make you feel sickeningly awkward."
"Watch all you like, I never feel awkward," he quipped.
Hermione giggled. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Draco bit his bottom lip and glanced down at her necklace, the emerald diamond catching his eye in the firelight.
Hermione's hand came up and she stroked the pendant delicately, her chest rising as she sucked in a deep breath and then released it. "Thank you for the necklace," she breathed. "I absolutely love it. It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received."
Draco blinked at her, his hand tightening around his glass. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."
Hermione went silent, her eyes fixated on the lake outside the large windows as her fingers continued to rub the emerald diamond almost reverently.
Draco gazed at her face, his silver eyes sweeping over freckles and a cute button nose. He was glad that he went against his better judgement and bought her the necklace. He wasn't going to at first, he had several other present in mind - all relating to books or writing equipment - but his mind kept going back to the necklace. He worried that she would think it was too extravagant, and perhaps she did think that, but she also said she loved it. So that was enough for him.
"What does it mean when it pulses?" she asked minutes later, her tone low and a little uncertain. Draco got the feeling that she'd been debating about whether to mention it or not, but in the end couldn't help her curiosity. "I haven't yet had a chance to read through the booklet that came with it," she explained.
Draco stared at her, his heart picking up a few notches. "It pulses?" he queried, popping another roast potato into his mouth. "Strange."
"Yes," she answered, eyes flicking towards him in confusion. "You mean, you didn't know?"
He shook his head nonchalantly. "I had no idea."
"Huh," Hermione sat back in her chair, gripping the pendant in her hand now.
Draco could literally hear her brain working in overdrive trying to figure out what it could possibly mean. He wanted to ask her when exactly it had pulsed. Was it pulsing while she was at Weasley's house? Or was it pulsing right now? He knew that wasn't fair though, not when she didn't know the reason it was doing it. And, actually, he wasn't sure it was wise for him to know. "Do you want a refill?" he asked, holding up the half empty bottle of firewhisky, hoping to redirect the conversation.
Hermione dropped her hand from her necklace. "Oh, go on then," she grinned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk, Mr Malfoy."
"Well, Miss Granger..." he began in a low husk. "You would be absolutely correct." Draco's smile was slow and positively devilish.
The rest of the night went by in blur of laughter and joyous chatter. They finished off the entire bottle of firewhisky and even started on a second bottle that Draco managed to pilfer from Theo's secret stash. They talked for hours about their lives growing up - obviously straying from any touchy subjects - and about little things like, places in the world they'd visited, places they want to visit, their favorite colours, their favorite foods, and so on. There was never a lull in the conversation and as the night went on, Draco found himself becoming more and more relaxed, something he hadn't managed to do in a very long time. Part of it was due to the firewhisky, but mostly it was the company.
At some point in the early hours of the morning, Hermione persuaded Draco to open his presents and, to his utter surprise, he found that there was one buried in there from Hermione - a stunning set of white gold cufflinks engraved with his initials.
They found themselves rolling around on the rug more times than they could count, each time ending with Draco's name falling from Hermione's lips in the most come-inducing fashion.
When Hermione eventually fell asleep at some time around 5:30 in the morning, Draco found himself thinking back on the day and despite the dismal start, he thought that it had been one of the best Christmases he'd ever had.
A/N: Thank you for being so patient. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The part you've all been waiting for - or perhaps dreading? haha! - is next chapter! Argh! It's finally happening and I'm kind of scared. Stay tuned!
Massive thanks to Black_Osmosis who gave this a read whilst away on holiday, you truly are amazing!
Also, a massive fuck you! to 'word' for screwing up my formatting, which took me an hour and half to fix. You suck!