Chapter 20
Becoming Flexible
I did not ask of what you wished for, Draco. I am your father. Not your friend. This witch is the one with whom you are promised to. Mudblood pet or not, I do expect you to follow through on the arrangement. It is the best interest of this family to have a pure match aligned. Your games have captured the intense interest of our Lord. The success of your venture, I fear, will determine our fate. It is best to distance yourself from the likes of mudbloods and half-breeds to intermingle amongst your own people.
Please, son. Consider what is best for you.
Your father.
Draco raced through the sky. The wind grasped at his flesh, his cheeks, his eyes as he pushed faster and faster through. Ice leeched in through his grasp. He was frozen to his broom. A sharp burn started at the back of his throat, followed all the way down to a pair of equally burning lungs.
He had received the letter only three days after the start of term. His father doubted him.
It burned to have that dark wizard rule over his life. Draco was in the power. He was gifted the choice of anything in the world. What he found was that he wanted a pet like Granger. He was not for contracts and courtship. The thing he liked was the way she was there out of her will, grasped in his. Her breath caught when he came close. It was fear and thrill all laced into one common drug that he devoured.
His need. His feed.
One common pureblood witch would not change his desires. Honorable or not. Stunning or not. There was little fire that he found himself attracted to that was not at the end of a Gryffindor's tongue, one that was so easily snatched out of her mouth if he did not like it.
The fresh air was supposed to calm his spirits. He needed to gain control. It was his duty to honor the wishes of his elder.
No matter how much he did not want to. He would. Because it was a Malfoy's responsibility.
The broom brought him down to the edge of the castle. Its relief somewhere up higher in the clouds, higher than he wanted to go. His feet dropped to the steady ground. Their want to run to her side was drowned by his duty.
Draco rubbed the broom shaft with oil, cleaned and tended to the bristles, shined the footrests before it was placed away. It was perfection. Neatly placed in his closet along with all the other aspects of his belongings, arranged in neat rows, organized, and spaced in three centimeter sections to prevent overcrowding of the fabrics.
A creeping ache crawled up the side of his face. He relaxed his jaw.
He took his time to assemble his outerwear. It was a ritual. Each movement a delicate action that was done time after time. The laying of his trousers and suit coat, the delicate handling of his button-up shirt. Tie. Socks. Shoes. There were all placed atop his school-issued comforter of silver. The enchanted stitching of a snake moved through the threads as he added to the collection. Cufflinks.
The time spent focused upon his attire made it easier to set the emotions aside. The dark box of his feelings was chained and sank to the deepest depths of his psyche. He willed it all out of his current position. There was no choice. His honor demanded more of him.
Draco took his time. He placed every item just so. The end of his wand textured his hair. He ran his hands through to shape their body. He'd liked the shorter fade on the sides. It was a more modern style than his father preferred.
It was not his father tasked with maintaining it so what did it matter?
He preferred the sleek look. It matched his clean image.
The reflection looked very much like who he always saw: legendary, ruthless, exclusive, heir. The reflections of late did not relate the being within. Instead, the shell of which he adorned was worn with delicately painted features of others. Their expectations, their words, their threats. He was not what he displayed. That was clear as day. Still, the weight of all that which was painted upon his flesh sank him to their very depths.
There was no path left for him now. No path to diverge, to take a road less traveled.
Engagement. Enslavement.
It was the tradition that he would do without once he bore his own heirs. The point of their status was to be above what was expected. Arranged marriages were for peasants where the only thing that mattered was the benefit.
He belonged to another breed. It was impossible for a Malfoy to become poor. Their wealth overflowed. Vaults in many countries, various alias', scattered properties. Their lineage dated back to time immemorial. There was no end to their reach.
Why was he bound to rules that did not apply? Why was he to be entangled in a choiceless situation?
Draco ascended from the boys sleeping quarters into the Slytherin Common Room. It was sparse. A few third-year students had their books around them as if in the center of a summoning circle in the search for answers. Blaise Zabini was there, too. Silent, as always. He watched Draco with profound interest that bored him. The wizard had backed off of Hermione. That was all he cared about.
He waltzed through on the way to the enchanted corridor wall to find his way back to his pet, when the soft hum of a voice entered his head. He turned on toe. The one hand in his pocket held a fist. It was hours since he saw Hermione. Time apart. Her apart in unknown places set his jaw back on edge.
"What?"
Daphne crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "Can I have a word with you?"
"I have places to be."
Crabbe and Goyle better be with her. If they weren't, if she roamed unchecked…
There was a definite determination etched in Daphne's features. Her eyes fierce and unforgiving as they viewed him.
"It will only take a moment," she answered in a bit of forced civility.
Her face was crowded with a pair of too large, thick rimmed glasses. The sharp chill of her blue eyes did little to pierce his flesh. He was ice-cold. Frozen solid. There was little she could do that would threaten a wizard like him.
A pawn had no emotion. They were used without thought. He was used by his father's reaching hand, a strike to his personal pride, that he was not asked.
His father was above reproach. Mother, on the other hand, was not. She would receive a letter of his distaste rather soon.
Draco turned his eyes to narrow slits as they gained each other's audience. "This better be important. I've got things to tend to."
"I know what you've got to tend to, Draco." Daphne spoke through gritted teeth. "Believe it or not, it's where I take issue."
"Like I give a rat's arse where you take issue. Granger's her own witch. If she didn't like it," which would be an obvious lie, "she has the power to say."
Not that he would listen.
Hermione Granger craved him just as he craved her. Any effort made to the contrary was a fallacy founded in divisive opinion of others. He'd hunt down anyone who would convince her she was better suited elsewhere.
"Not everything is about Hermione!" Daphne suddenly hissed. "I'm talking about my sister. Tori. The one with whom you've started a courtship with. That witch. The other one with whom you've chosen to carry on with."
His blood turned cold.
The frozen icy waters of the Black Lake sloshed against the glass windows of the common room. Their noise was a constant. It drowned out the rolling murmur of voices throughout the room. It was by lucky chance that it had covered the shrill pitch of Daphne's voice. Someone might have heard.
That was information he did not want known.
Draco gripped Daphne's arm tight and pulled her farther away from the listening ears of their fellow House mates. "I'll encourage you to lower your tone."
She turned blaring red. Her eyes bulged, focused upon his grip on her arm.
If she expected that to deter him, she misjudged him greatly.
"Get your hand off of me!"
The knuckles of his left hand turned white as it stayed in place against her bicep. "Not until you've listened to what I have to say."
"No. I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to grow some bullocks. You're going to write your father and tell him the truth. Tell him just what this pet is to you and leave my sister out of your Malfoy family bullshit."
Her emotions were not his concern. Daphne's fit held nothing in interest of value to him.
"I'm done here."
Draco tried to move past. Daphne was stronger than she looked. Her grasp wrinkled the smooth finish of his suit. He looked down with a scowl.
"Do you know how much this cost?"
"Do you know how little I give a bloody fuck about your suit, Draco?"
Hours had past since he spoke with Hermione. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't seen her before he went for a fly. Her extended absence left a quaking void in his mind as to her whereabouts. He needed to find her. It was likely that she was being fluffed by another wizard.
The surge of his pulse vibrated throughout his ears. He felt a tightening in his flesh.
"Tell me you won't court my sister. It isn't right."
He ran a hand through his perfectly style hair. The hairs released from their stiff style. "What makes you think I want this, Daphne? Hm? Don't exactly look willing, do I?"
"Well neither is she."
Leaves of sage were tossed into the flames of the common room. Fresh fumes of the burned leaves spread through the air.
It was a purist tradition. Sage was associated with prim parlors in medieval times when the air was fouled with the stench of filth and vermin. Piss and plague the only scent of the world. Wizards burned sage in their air as a filter. It was a common scent for any pureblood. Estates like those of Slytherin alumni were ones that stood for centuries, traditions of historic importance, a reminder of who they were, a breed apart, to the peasants outside.
Them versus the rest.
Draco and Daphne were conditioned to respond to the smell. It brought back thoughts of home. Serenity clouded their minds. Nostalgia of their childhoods blocked the foul bitterness that often tainted their tongues, foul words to be said.
Her hold on his sleeve loosened. "I think you should tell Tori the truth. On your ridiculous date on Valentines Day. Explain it clearly. Not like an arse. You'll have to restrain yourself."
"Me?"
She took a long blink. "Yes, you."
"One cannot overlook the closeness of a sister to sister. Save the time and tell her yourself."
His patience was wearing thinner by the minute. Sage did not dilute all thought. His concern for his pet reigned over those of minute consequence.
It was not his choice. Astoria Greengrass was not by his say. What did she matter?
"I promised not to intervene," she sighed.
Draco's brows sank. "This is you not intervening?"
She flashed a wrinkled nose with a nasty lip curl. "She's my little sister. She isn't versed in the ways of wizards like you. Salazar willing, she never will be."
His pet would not like his courtship. If he could find a way to prevent the discovery of such an agreement until it was dealt with, Hermione would be none the wiser. Therein lied the rub. She was smart. The dim-witted witches in Hogwarts were no match to what that witch was able to deduce from a look. His absence on Valentines Day was to be noticed by her.
Moreover, the tension of her being available upon a day meant for romance rose.
Neither option was very comfortable.
He stepped forward. "Don't tell Granger," he whispered.
"You do realize whom you're talking about, don't you?" She deadpanned.
"Oh! Save the fabricated sisterhood story for someone who might believe it. I know the lengths of a friendship. They don't stretch far."
"Hey!" She hissed. "I have been a champion for you as far as Hermione is concerned. Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, Draco. Be kind to my sister. Be fair. Or you'll regret it."
Harry did not wait long to call a DA meeting. Hermione was notified through her enchanted coin. It gave her little time to slip away from Draco's side. It'd taken faking illness to have Goyle and Crabbe deposit her at Gryffindor Tower. She knew well enough they'd wait ten minutes before returning to their activities.
She sneaked out of the Tower using Ginny as lookout. The red head waved her arm through the portrait hole that it was all clear.
Hermione hopped out. "Thank Godric. I thought we'd be late."
The witches slipped through empty corridors. They avoided all people, even friends. More than once, they rounded corners to avoid a group of wandering students.
"Why are there so many people in the castle now?" Ginny groaned as they yet again ducked away. "Last term we never had to do this much."
"It's winter, Gin. There is nothing to do outside."
They were well on their way to the Room of Requirement when a group of Slytherin girls led by the black demoness of Slytherin herself walked by. Hermione was at a loss. Pansy reported everything back to Draco's ear. The witch hated Hermione with a great passion. She'd do anything to have his pet punished.
In a panic, Hermione pulled Ginny's hair into a shadowy niche in the wall.
"Ow!" The witch held her head. "What was that for?"
"That was Pansy. If she sees me out, she'll tell Draco."
The carrying sound of Pansy Parkinson's voice was nauseating. If the witch whispered to Draco that Hermione was sneaking around with Ginny during a time that he assumed she was in Gryffindor Tower, he was bound to know it was for Harry. Then all she'd hear about was his hatred of Harry Potter and she'd never be let out of his sight again.
Ginny watched on as Pansy passed. The awful high-pitch chortle that was from her own joke made the witch's nose wrinkle.
They were in the clear for the rest of the journey. The doors of the room appeared cut through the stone, elegantly carved and curved in metal iron. The opening was two stories above their heads. Doors fit for a castle threshold.
The rest of the DA was gathered. Luna and Neville welcomed both of the girls to their conversation. The lesson started not long after. Harry became her center focus for the entire time. He was the teacher of the art of defense. Although they were at ends, he was still a fascinating study. There was no one better to learn from. Of that, she was convinced.
It was a dueling day. Hermione's most anxiously awaited time. She'd counted on using the spells against one another and when Harry explained that it was best done in practice on one another, she almost jumped for joy.
Dennis Creevey was up first. He was one of the younger students of the group. Harry rolled through the motions of the spell in detail as Dennis copied each exact movement until Harry was satisfied it would do the trick. Then he chose Dennis' partner: Lavender.
She flitted her side ponytail over her shoulder, fluttered her eyes in their direction before she stepped across from Dennis. Hermione looked around. The only one near her was Ron. Had she been fluttering her eyelashes at Ron?
Hermione watched on as Harry repeated the motions of the spell until Lavender performed it with fluidity, which was important in the deliverance of a spell. One wrong move, one wrong muttering could backfire with dire consequences.
Ginny stood on the other side of the dueling platform. Her arms crossed as she watched. Michael, her dark-haired boyfriend from Ravenclaw, stood close by. His lips moved, barely noticeable. Ginny, then, flipped her hair and gave a soft smile. The witch's blue eyes met Michael's dark brown ones. An intensity grew between them beyond the notice of anyone.
The spell was shot. Neither Michael nor Ginny noticed. Their eyes were locked together apart from the world with an unspoken, unbreakable language in their gaze. Hermione struggled to tear her eyes away from it.
Something in her heart yearned for that, yet she knew that she had that already. It was not in public moments with all her friends near that she could express such her profound interest in him, but it was there all the same. In private, they were another couple. Filled with desire and heat. Draco was a wizard that she hated to love but loved all the same. He protected her. Cherished her with constant supervision and care. There were many times that they fought. They were Slytherin and Gryffindor, two stubborn students out of their comfort zone. Somehow, they orbited back into each other's arms.
Hermione knew in her heart that she would have to sacrifice a lot for Draco. It would not be easy. Her friends might hate her for it. They might call for her blood for what side she'd be forced to interact with. All Hermione knew was that her love with Draco was stronger, stronger than the pull of gravity.
"Mione!" She heard echo.
She pulled from her thoughts. Michael and Ginny obviously in notice of her attention. She tucked away a fallen curl.
"Yeah?" She said.
Ronald paused in his way to the end of the dueling space. "We're up."
She nodded. Her feelings for Draco stowed away until it was safe to contemplate. The DA was not the place for Draco Malfoy…
"Able to steel away, eh?"
It was Ronald who surprised her after class. They were one of the few remaining in the Room of Requirement. The rest had filtered through in unobvious groups to not seem suspicious. She gave him a curious glance.
"Didn't think Draco would let you go," he explained. "He's been awful watchful lately. You never get far away from him."
She frowned. "I told him I wasn't feeling well."
The lying never stopped. She hated herself for it.
"And he didn't offer to comfort you?" His pale brows pushed together. "Why, he should have brought you some meatballs like me mum makes. Those always make me feel better. I'd bring a whole crock full."
There was no depth of him that did not surprise her. Her mouth could not stop smiling.
"Really, Ron? You'd do that for a friend that was sick?"
"Sure I would. If it were like that between me and you, I'd bring you some meatballs and soups. Give your feet nice little rubs. Hug you until you fall asleep. Oh, and Sleeping Draughts. Those solve all problems." Cho and Harry were in private conversation. It was no leap to know that Cho was Harry's crush. Ron and Hermione knew to not wait up. They both exited the Room without their third friend. "I'd do anything to make certain you were comfortable. That's what he should be doing."
"Something tells me that he would rather not fall ill, too."
"Aye. I suspect."
They walked through the halls in private company, if not for a little while longer. Time together was short. The world seemed to pull them apart.
"Did you bring me anything while I was petrified?" She asked. "That's like being sick, only worse."
Ron snorted. "I couldn't bring meatballs then. I was only a second year. And they'd have rotted before you could eat them."
"Oh. Of course."
It was quiet for a moment. Neither knew what to say to that.
"But. I did pick you flowers though. Harry and I put them on that little table so that if you woke up without us, you'd have known we was there, thinking of you."
For all his lack of finesse, Ron was a good wizard. His charm was innocent and comforting. It was clear that comfort was the main thing he'd offer in all struggles as it was the only thing his family might have had when times became tough.
Why hadn't she fallen in love with Ron Weasley?
They both decided it was better to split before they were spotted together. She went back to Gryffindor Tower to study while Ron decided to gather in the Great Hall to attract attention to himself with the other Gryffindor boys over wizard chess sets. Draco would notice his entrance. It was best to remain in the Tower until suspicion was off them.
Drogon was the first one to greet her in the common room. The flickering of his tail swayed back and forth like a clock's tick. She snuggled her face against his.
He and Hermione curled up beneath a good book to read the afternoon away. Drogon sat on her chest. She was forced to raise the book unnaturally high to see overtop his body. He purred with delight. More than once, he rubbed his face against the front of her jumper. It was the newest addition in Weasley family jumpers that she had acquired.
Molly had been kind enough to knit Drogon one, too. He kept it on all of two minutes. It was shredded to pieces in his crate and tucked into the folds of his pillow where he slept every night.
He was too odd to be bothered to ask. Drogon was full of quirks. Part of it was his enchantment. She guessed that the animal brain had few ways to adapt their human-like qualities in their animalistic routines and urges. So. He saved a ripped jumper to cuddle with.
When she emerged from the Tower later that day, Crabbe and Goyle were posted nearby. She had grown accustomed of their presence. Crabbe waved as she approached. Neither really knew much about Draco's plans. She was often met with 'I don't know' as it was grumbled beneath their breath.
"Anything new?" She asked them, fully aware that the chance of reply was minimal.
Today was the day for surprises.
"Draco went for a fly," Goyle offered.
Crabbe suddenly handed over a little napkin with a few biscuits on it. "You missed tea. Draco said these are your favorite. Though you might be peckish."
Hermione blinked twice. "These are for me?"
Neither of the Slytherins thrived on too much emotion. They were suddenly uncomfortable, shifting about, as they stood there. She tried to reign in her visible gratitude in lieu of a very passive face, something they were accustomed to from Draco.
"We've got to study Herbology."
"Brilliant," she said. It was a delightful for a change of pace. "Library?"
Crabbe and Goyle found a secluded table in the library. It was out of vision of the librarian's desk. Wax of long candles trickled down the length of their holders on the walls, the only source of light there was in the dim of isolation. There were heaps of books set upon edges of forgotten shelves. Smokey air filled her breath in delightful calm.
She wore a pair of tight-knit pants. They were of black stretchy fabric, smooth to the touch. It was a gift from her parents. Muggle styles were geared toward comfort of late. These were branded for yoga, an artform she'd not taken up but was rather curious to its benefits. Her mum told her it was for flexibility. No coordination was needed. The run down had been simple enough. Arms up, bend over. Hips shoulders length apart and deep stretches into the pull of her muscles.
Overtop she wore a loose grey shirt. It was a size too large. The style went, as she was told, to wrap it around into a sort of knot. The fabric swirled into a pleasant design. She kept the knot at her hip. However, it made her nervous to have the little bit of flesh be exposed whenever her arms went above her head.
Luckily Crabbe and Goyle noticed nothing of her rather muggle outfit. They took their places next to one another, placed their books in front of their faces and stared with rather dejected faces. The works of Herbology made her feel similarly.
The afternoon in the tower had warranted spare time for her studies. Now in the library there was nothing to command her mind.
"I'll just toddle off a minute, yeah?" She said.
They nodded her off. It was clear that there was little power they held that could stop her from perusing the library. It was her one joy. The clear love of her life.
She wandered through the darkened aisles. It was not often that she found herself lost within those section. Her mind required other interests. Her eyes gazed up at the titles. Their decayed script of gold lettering spoke to their contents. Legend and lore. It was a widely published topic in centuries before when the past was one of the few things for certain.
That sweet musk of the books was a comforting scent.
Hermione ran her fingers down the spines. The small dips and peaks of the script in the leather.
A soft treading upon the rug underfoot did not alert her to the presence of another person in the aisle. There was a gentle clearing of a throat that tore her eyes away from the dazzling ancient books.
There was a glittering green pair of eyes that met hers. She hadn't thought they'd be so close. The overpowering lure, open and welcoming in their gaze, it drew out the surprise in her breath.
"Oh." Her mouth moved without thought.
"Hey. It's the cheering section."
Terrence Higgs was a wizard even better up close than he was at a distance. The shine of his piercing was all the more alluring. The gentle overgrowth of his facial hair gave that ascending darkness to his flesh, trimmed in sharp lines against his cheeks. His necklace was exposed by the casual neckline of his shirt.
The edge of his button-up shirt was untucked out of his steel colored jumper. His trousers were a light beige, almost ivory.
"Come again?" She muttered.
He scratched the back of his neck. Eyes, downcast away from her sight. "From the Pitch. Cheering section from the Pitch."
"Oh, right. Ha. Sorry." The tension fell from her body. She eased. Her open palms rested against her thighs. For a split moment, she watched his eyes fall to the curve of her hips. "How was your holiday? Have a happy Christmas?"
Terry bobbed his head. The sharp jutting of his Adam's apple caught her eye.
There was something so appealing about a man's Adam's apple. She especially loved how it climbed higher against their jaw when they were nervous or excited.
Unwelcome images of Draco's own throat bobbing in his clear lust forced her thighs closed with the subtle hopes that her own dripping desire might cease. Lust polluted her mind. It made it difficult to focus upon anyone else except the source of the arousal. Had Draco entered, she might have moaned out of instinct.
"Excellent. Small. Just my family. My sisters prefer to have a private Christmas."
"That sounds very sweet."
"Yeah. They all pile back in home and spend the whole time playing games and drinking spiked cocoa behind my mum's back and opening presents." He smiled as if lost in his own memory of it. "My nieces make it worth all the chaos of two weeks."
His life sounded so full of life. It was hard to not become so jealous.
"How many nieces do you have?"
"Five."
She gawked. "Five?"
"All girls," he confirmed with a swallowed chuckle.
"You're a regular lady's man, aren't you?" Her mouth upturned to a smirk.
Terry laughed. It was a cheery sound. The harmony that lived within him was genuine. So pure. It was unexpected that a good, wholesome wizard could be found within the realm of serpents. Not only that but be so popular as he was.
A Slytherin family so happy and innocent was harder to imagine. All holidays in her mind were darkness with evil cackles as they whipped house elves and wished upon the deaths of werewolves, lamenting about the rights of muggleborns and how horrid the state of the world had fallen. Gifts of estates to their newborn children and priceless jewels given to those who remained unimpressed with their luster.
"Quite so. Those little girls demand it," he said. "Uncle Tez is their man for everything. Sweets and trinkets and broom rides and bedtime stories. I do it all."
It was not romance that had her eyes dazzled. The idea of repopulation was needed for species continuation. What made her in raptures at Terrence's gentle nature with children was a biological response to a woman's desire to find an appropriate mate to protect possible offspring.
Nothing more.
Still, she clutched her chest as if her heart were within her fingers. "Oh, Godric. That's so precious."
They fell into a pregnant lull. Not one word had been said of the obvious elephant over their shoulder. Draco's rule of no wizards applied to Terry, a fact which he was aware of. There was no doubt to either that he would disapprove of their interaction.
His aggression toward the other wizards in her life had subsided once his status in her life become well known. Few bothered her now. The few bold enough to try were ushered off with the assistance of Crabbe and Goyle.
The two henchmen knew to corral Terry away from Hermione. They'd done it more than once. In corridors, in the Great Hall, once they actually pushed him out of their way on a staircase just so they might not pass.
Hermione drew in a long inhale. The comfort of the books was slipping. She felt her hands seep their anxiety through the moisture-wicking fabric of her trousers.
"Well." She sighed. "I better be going. They'll have sent a party after me soon."
He forced his lips closed and nodded his head. "I understand. But you know…" His thumb brushed against his chin. "You don't have to be with someone like him."
It was not widely known how the nature of their relationship was. Most thought Hermione and Draco were simply friends. It was ignored after a while. Once the initial shock wore off, even her own house overlooked it.
She suspected that Slytherin House was more adept to the exact nature (intimate details omitted) of the relationship between the pair. They had to. His nature was best understood by those who shared a similar outlook.
Hermione nibbled at her bottom lip. "Right."
"Malfoy's got childish games in his head. Nothing settled. Comes from that Malfoy mentality that the world is owned by them," he elaborated. "I wouldn't doubt a first year might treat you better."
He started to walk away. Arms crossed her belly as she watched him go. Then he spun on toe, one finger held in the air.
"But a sixth year? That might be just even better."
Higgs disappeared into the same cloud of silence that he emerged from.
She leaned back against the shelves with a sigh. Her hand went to her forehead in the total loss of what to think.
It was a proposition, wasn't it? The way it was phrased implied it. Heavily. Or was it? He never said in explicit terminology that he was interested. There was no clearer way to state that other than to say it, right?
Godric, was she going crazy? There was no way that Terrence Higgs said he was interested. That was impossible.
He was good and kind and smart and…all that she wished Draco to be.
Hermione remained in her frozen realm of chaotic thinking until it was disrupted by the impending presence of another. She felt the air shift. The tone of his scoff as he passed her two assigned bodyguards without their guarded body near.
Draco entered that darkened aisle of the library with a groping gaze. There was intensity in his eye, but it was overtaken by the need to scour the length of her legs gripped in taut fabric.
"There you are." His eyes were wider than normal. Fingertips ghosted around the knot of his tie. "You could have sent Crabbe and Goyle to find something back here."
His eyes flickered around. It was a desolate edge of the expansive library. Old and forgotten by many.
"They were studying," she answered in a low tone. "I didn't want to bother."
"Ridiculous." He cleared his throat. For some reason his eyes kept coming back to her thighs. His fingers ripped through the blonde strands rather rough. "Studying is lost on them. All they're doing is wasting their time. Besides…My pet can bother them with anything."
Hermione could not get over his behavior. It sent chills down her spine.
"Is something wrong?"
A single finger tapped against his lips. "What, exactly, are those that you are wearing?"
"They're leggings. Or rather, yoga pants. They are for exercising."
Something quirked his interest. "Yoga?" He repeated.
"Have you heard of it?"
He shook his head.
"It's like stretching," she explained. "It's good for the body. Make it limber."
Draco's brows leapt up to the height of his face. "Limber, you say."
There was no easy way to explain what yoga was. She watched her mother try one whole day until she finally just rolled out the mat and showed it. To Hermione, there was no simpler way to do it.
She moved into the middle of the aisle. "It's easier if I just show you rather than explain it."
Her feet moved shoulder width apart. One large breath filled her lungs. She allowed her breath to expand her chest, open to the oxygen of the air, the capacity of her lungs reached. The elastic on her wrist wound overtop a messy bun. Her brown curls frayed and strained against the hold of the style. Few strays fell down against her face. She brushed them away.
Draco watched on with interest. His eyes immediately noticed the exposure of flesh at her hip as her arms raised up above her head. One ankle slid out behind her. Her leg stretched fully.
Smooth as the motions she remembered. Her body was fluid into the next shift. Both hands placed against the floor, she moved back her other ankle and hovered a moment until she brought her hips close to the floor, back arched as far as it could go.
"The pants don't restrict movement. See?"
The last move was an easy one. It was bending over. Simple. She pulled her torso against her bottom half, holding onto her ankles and pulled herself deep into the stretch.
It was hard to explain the way Draco looked. The faraway look in his eye caught her attention.
She approached him. "Do you not like them?"
His grey ignited with life once they aligned with her gaze. "Don't wear them ever again."
Her jaw dropped. "They're not that bad, are they?"
"Pet. I don't want another wizard to ever look at you in those."
"So, you hate them?" Her voice fell.
Her purpose was not to please Draco. But, it was a happy byproduct if she did. The fact he hated something she rather liked was upsetting and frustrating at the same time.
His throat cleared. "On the contrary, I love them. In fact, I'd like to take you somewhere private so that I might admire them properly. Or, perhaps, another view of this yoga. But these. I cannot. I'm struggling with the rage that there have been wizards to see you in these already."
He led her back to their study table. The sharp edge of his eye earned a few lost students an intimidating gaze until they retreated from whence they came.
Crabbe and Goyle acknowledged the pair. Hermione passed the table in favor of reading rather than studying. The three wizards shared some hushed words below their breaths. She did not take the time to be interested in it. Chances were slim that it was of consequence.
She curled her legs in a lounge chair with a book in her lap. Draco growled at the back of his throat.
"Behave yourself."
With a sigh, she put her feet to the ground. It was not comfortable. Her body liked to be folded close when she read.
It took time to slip into comfort, but she eventually found her space enough to relax enough to breathe through her nose. Her fingers caressed the textured pages of the novel within her grasp. Dated yellow pages with blistering black lettering. The scent of a library on her hands. She breathed it in with ease.
Draco worked alongside Crabbe and Goyle. He wrote upon a parchment with quick vigor.
Every few minutes or so, his stormy grey eyes would look back to her. A withheld bite within his mouth. Something different about how he held himself. Like he couldn't keep away from her for a moment.
Her heart suddenly raced with doubts of her safety. Was it possible that a plot to kidnap her from Hogwarts was afoot? Did he have information to her compromised wellbeing?
"Heard Potters got remedial potions," she heard Goyle snicker.
"Doesn't surprise me, the idiot." Draco scoffed.
She bit back a retort. Harry was more than acceptable at potions.
It was Professor's Snapes eternal love of embarrassing Harry that forged such a ridiculous rumor. Not that the true nature of their private lessons could be explained. If Umbridge were to discover it, it was Merlin's guess as to what would happen then.
Occlumency was a dark art. Something that very few learned for its skill that were not in need to protect their guilt.
Harry's safety, though, mattered more. His mind was weak. The compromise in the connection to Voldemort not only risked his safety, but the safety of the entire Order.
An hour passed with total silence as the group worked on their various distractions when Daphne Greengrass strode through the aisle. Her face lit with a pleasant smile.
"Ello." She waved.
There was comfort in the company of Daphne. She was kind. Genuine. And different. That made it easier to differentiate her from the other Slytherins.
Hermione looked up from her book. "Daphne! Hey."
Her voice raised Draco's head from his reading. An odd tension spread across his features. He watched the Slytherin witch take a seat beside Hermione through narrowed slits of warning. Not once had he exercised that amount of distrust in Daphne Greengrass. Something about it set Hermione's hairs on end.
She kept watch on his behavior in the corner of her eye.
"What are you reading?" Daphne's glanced at the closed book in her lap. "Anything good?"
"I wouldn't consider it a page turner." Hermione smiled. "Rather interesting, still."
Daphne settled back into the lounge chair directly next to Hermione's. The two girls were instantly happy to be in each other's company.
Hermione could tell that Daphne liked her. Conversations were easy. She didn't have to hide Draco's truth nor the nature of their arrangement. Daphne was blunt. It was a breath of fresh air to hear such honesty so blatantly.
Very near, she realized how quiet Draco became. He was leaned close in a very subtle manner.
He wanted to hear what was said.
"Better than that Herbology section for class," she said. "Salazar, have you ever read anything more devoid of emotion?"
"Have you ever tried listening to someone talk about Herbology? Trust me. It's even worse."
Daphne adjusted the bracelets on her wrists. The dark little marks on her fingers were back. This time her hands were adorned with palmistry symbols. The lunar and solar signs. Cancer, and Leo, and Capricorn and Gemini.
Hermione smiled. "How was holiday? Make out like a bandit?"
"My parents did well." She brushed her hair aside to reveal a dainty necklace of amber. "Adriano did better."
Her jaw fell from the socket. "No way. Adraino got you that?"
Daphne beamed a toothy smile. "Yes! Can you believe it?"
She motioned for Hermione to feel the stone. It was soft. The jewel was a warm golden hue. Amber was a favorite of Daphne's. She liked how inviting it felt rather than the cold hard gleam of diamond or emerald.
"What about Pansy? I thought she stole him away."
"So did I." She touched Hermione's hand against the rest. "Come to find out, he was just being nice. He thought that she was my friend and he didn't want to appear rude. She was 'too self-absorbed and condescending' for him to pretend to friendship. They stopped writing just before Christmas."
Hermione clapped. "Congratulations. You've gotten a good one. Only a few months of writing and he's gotten you a necklace with your favorite stone? That's a keeper."
"Isn't he though? Salazar, when I say I almost cried, I'm not exaggerating."
"A rare gem of a wizard. Worth every tear."
Daphne smiled. Her cheek rested against the back of the chair, lost in a dreamy daze. She looked so happy. Thrilled to be chosen over Pansy.
A subtle emotion filled up Hermione, too, as she knew what it meant to be chosen over Pansy. It was a feeling better than bliss.
"Anyway," Daphne hummed. "I thought I might celebrate Valentines Day in Hogsmeade. Up for a bit of girls weekend?"
It was one thing to be friends in class and around the castle. But out in Hogsmeade? That was quite a statement for Daphne to declare. Hermione was good enough to be seen with in public, from a pureblood standpoint. A bravery that not many of the house exuded.
There was then the reality that she was Draco's pet. That freedom was not extended to her.
Hermione forced a smile. "You know how that goes."
"Go on." Daphne waved her hand. "Ask the boss."
"Actually, I think he's already heard the request."
Draco beheld them with caution. It was difficult to discern, but Hermione noticed the slightest hold in his breath.
"I'm not certain she should be out in Hogsmeade unaccompanied on the most romantic day of the year."
Hermione rolled her eyes. It was not like a wizard would snatch her up that fast.
A sharp hold overtook Daphne's sapphire blue eyes. "You should reconsider. I'll be with her the entire time." The tone was stilted out of her mouth. "You can attend to more important things. She'll be safe with me."
It would be a lie to say that Hermione did not plead with her face. She tried her damnedest to appear in total yearning. Her bottom lip puckered out in the puffy red flesh. Her eyes sloped inward, wide and watery. It was the best she could do.
Draco exhaled sharply. "I suppose she might be free for a bit."
It was weird, the tension between Draco and Daphne. Something shifted in their dynamic. Whether it was sexual or personal, it was difficult to tell, but whatever it was, they were at odds over it.
The start of the term was only a few days prior. No major drama had yet to start between students.
Was it possible something took place over holiday? Had there been a disagreement of some kind? Daphne had been short with Draco on the train. Was that it?
"Now, tell me all about your holiday. How was France?"
Hermione swallowed. "Christmas was pleasant. I was given so many gifts that I cannot believe so many people care for me."
"Ooh. Bandit status?"
"It felt that way. Mrs. Weasley made me another jumper. Ginny gave me a bunch of colored lip balm. It supposedly changes hue throughout the day. My grandparents gave me loads of new books. My parents, too. Plus my mum bought a whole new wardrobe."
"I was going to ask about those trousers. I figured they were new."
The black stretchy fabric snapped against her skin. Hermione was a bit surprised Daphne was that comfortable around her.
She giggled. "Yes, well. They're for this exercise called yoga."
"Yoga." Daphne said it like a foreign language.
"It's like stretching. You can become more flexible and build up some strength just using your own body."
It was clear that Daphne had a tough time wrapping her head around the idea. Her face wrinkled as she attempted to imagine exercise without any equipment or rules.
There was no clear way to explain it. It just had to be done.
Hermione rose to her feet. "Like this."
She moved through the motions that she showed Draco, taking the time to explain the taut feeling in her body as she pushed passed it. Daphne watched on with interest. She took note of the foot placement, arm movement, the stretch in the pants.
"Wow. Those really are great pants."
"I know, right?" Hermione chuckled. "They're so comfortable. I could live in these."
"And muggles just wear these out? Everywhere?"
Hermione nodded. "It's the latest trend."
"Okay, now. Show me again. Those poses. I'm going to try them tonight before bed."
She was only about halfway through when Draco grabbed hold of her hips and raised her to standing. "Time to go," he said.
He placed a black robe overtop her shoulders. Her satchel and book in his grasp, he led them out of the library, leaving Daphne in a cloud of disbelief. It only took one minute for him to have her pulled away that it left no time for absorption.
"I forbid you to wear these in public," Draco muttered.
"Okay."
Draco did not head toward Gryffindor Tower. Nor did he led her to a loo.
Instead, he traveled deeper into the castle. Darker corridors. Less students and lesser classrooms. They trekked through the snow, out of the protection of the castle walls. He led her past the Owlery, past the Whomping Willow.
They came up to one of the abandoned towers of the Hogwarts castle. Pollux Tower as it was named.
Hermione shivered in the brushing cold of the winter wind. Scotland was not for the faint hearted in the frozen wasteland of winter. It was harsh. The lands were overtook with a blanket of white, seas of solid ice, and the reaching cold that always seeped through the thickest of walls.
The woods were on the wind. She smelled the earthy fresh scent of pine and evergreen. The foul stagnation of Hogwarts was lost to the vast emptiness of the rolling hills. It was easy to forget the beauty that surrounded them when all things were considered. A deep breath through the nose cleared the darkest of ails. Serenity fell to the heart as visions of snow capped hills gleamed in the distance, yellow sun, shimmering snowflakes indignant to the warmth of the sunlight.
"What are we doing here?" She asked.
"Up. Go on."
She ascended the stairs as he stayed behind. Through the lonely shuffles of her steps, she recognized the soft murmurings of wards and charms. He protected the tower from being disturbed. Not only from outside, but the inside was not to be heard.
Her heart sped. She made sure not to betray her knowledge with the falter of her steps. Something was on Draco's mind. Whatever it was, it warranted privacy.
The tower was open. Only a few floors filled the empty space of it.
It was dark. A single torch came to life as she touched the first floor. The ceiling rose high overhead. Dust rested within. It did not look used, but rather it had been tended to once and just locked up after that. A frozen mausoleum of the school's past. How Draco came to discover it was a mystery.
There was a disused desk. The layer of grime spoke to the lack of tending.
A loveseat sat in a corner, covered with a sheet. She pulled back the corner. It was blue and black. There was a faint stain in the corner of the cushion. Since no where else in the castle had such a color scheme, it was fair to say it was used in the Ravenclaw Tower until something retired it to death within the tower.
The stone floor was empty, cold. Various chairs, tables, desks were scattered in their shrouds of ivory sheets.
Wrapped in a winding spiral was a staircase. They were narrow. Room enough for only one to trek high to the top of the column. She wandered what laid up there. A room? A magical instrument forgotten by the school? Perhaps books deemed unhabitable within the library.
Draco ascended the stairs. Her attention turned back to her companion with an examining eye. A cloud of dust burst with each of his steps. The bottom stretch of his black trousers coated in pale particles.
Her mouth opened to question their presence yet again, but the way his eyes landed upon her flesh, she felt she knew.
He offered his hand. It hanged in the space between them, an invitation into the depths of what it meant to love him. The pale of his flesh deceived the eye of his lurking darkness. He summoned her own demons to surface. Demons that loved to entangle with his.
His touch was warm. A fact she would never acclimate to.
Draco Malfoy should be so cold. He should be unappealing to the senses, not alluring.
He kissed her hand. The gentle caress of his flesh stirred the beast inside. She felt it awaken. The stretch of its long slumbering body tickled beneath her belly button.
"You know what you do to me, don't you? When you wear things like that."
She shook her head. She couldn't begin to understand the workings of his mind.
She was pulled closer to his body. Her hand the leash that led her into the arms of her temptation.
"I'm plagued with the question of whether to punish you for tempting other wizards or ravish you for my own enjoyment," Draco muttered. "Both cause great problems."
"Problems?"
Her small voice did little to break the eerie still of the tower. It remained forbidding. His voice pierced through, echoed against the stone. Hers was lost.
"Wizards like me aren't supposed to partake in affairs before marriage," he said. "Until now, I've done well to make my family proud." Then he swallowed. "You, pet, make me close to losing control. The edge of my sanity. Then I see these, and I cannot stop myself."
His fingers ran against the waist of her leggings. The spread of his fingers crossed her upper thighs.
She licked her lips. "So, you're not the sex god of Slytherin?"
Draco let out a strangled chuckle. "As much pleasure as that name brings me, I'm afraid it is the one that is not deserved."
When their eyes met, Hermione felt what came next. A soft press of his mouth against hers. It was not needy, as she expected. He offered only a tender kiss upon her lips, a hand against her hip. That was all.
Disappointed mounted when his lips broke the kiss.
"But, I've never been more tempted to assume the role."
Hermione gulped. She'd prepared for the moment when their control was lost to desire. But now that it was upon them, she felt her nerves tighten rather than relax.
"If," his breath struggled to remain calm, "I were to ever ask that of you, what would you say?"
Ask? Ask.
Draco did not ask. Masters did not ask. They did. They took. It was theirs no matter the resistance.
Her mind reeled as to what to say to him. She knew that sex was possible. It was wrong to deny that she was immune to her own hormones as they released in his presence.
If it was her choice, not expected, would she choose Draco as the one to whom her body was given to first?
He was bad. He was a pureblood. His father supported Voldemort and wanted her dead.
Had she given enough thought to the truth of her emotions for him? Was he truly the one she loved or was bonded with out of necessity? All those questions swirled around her mind. Their sharp ends stabbed their way at this and that. Her strength, her esteem, her beliefs. Nothing was let whole with Draco Malfoy. Not even her.
"I am now forever linked with you, aren't I?" She asked.
His face remained the same. "Yes."
"We can't go back."
"There is no back for us now," he answered.