Chapter 16

Late December Flurries

Hogwarts castle was decorated for the upcoming holiday. Red holly berries hanged from their strips of greenery, lined every door and arch way. Garlands of every house color lined columns throughout the school. Glittery evergreens dressed in their holiday best boasted in alcoves and classrooms for a dash of Christmas cheer.

Frost of early morning windows swirled in patterns of snowflakes. It greeted each student. Their splintered decorations of ice melted away with the rising of the daily sun, but was charmed, each morning, to grow icy fingers into wintery scenes for their enjoyment.

The Great Hall was the best decorated of all the castle. Icy blue and white trees almost touched the ceiling. Little candles scattered throughout their limbs flickered soft yellow light. Ornaments glistened. Enchanted reindeer grazed upon the needles of the tree and fidgeted their red noses.

Center of the archway into the hall was the largest bloom of mistletoe. It dangled like a teasing reminder for all who entered were expected to kiss. The source of the plant was mysterious. It was removed by staff multiple times a day but grew back with ease. The stunt reeked of a Weasley twin production. Hermione Granger eyed their two snickering mouths as they entered the sparse hall during a free period. Under their arms were books that had been seldom cracked that year. She smelled mischief.

Hermione sat just below a beautiful chandelier coated in shimmery tinsel. Bits of the decoration fell atop her assignments and coated them in whatever it was that made tinsel impossible to remove. Her ink was filled with the small golden debris.

It was supposed to bring her a bit of Christmas cheer, but it defeated her holiday spirit with it's constant downpour of frustration. When nobody was looking, she zapped a charm to keep the tinsel from falling on the table. Ink was one thing. The last thing she wanted for a meal was a coating of gold tinsel stuck in her teeth.

Harry and Ron had homework to do. They were hunkered down in the library trying to learn what they should have in class. She opted to take the Great Hall, so they found the answers on their own. It was not fair to carry their course load for them.

Luna and Neville and Ginny had plans, too.

It left a surprising amount of alone time. Quidditch practice was lengthy; Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were bound to be gone for another hour. That left a chance to reply to Viktor's letter.

It was filled with seasons greetings and his favorite things about the holidays. She smiled as he spoke of hot chocolate with a Russian vodka tossed in. He wrote his regards to Harry and Ron. His words were kind and genuine. In their time together, she'd never known him to be distrustful in any way.

Viktor Krum was a wonderful wizard. She wished the previous year had went better. It ended with Cedric's horrible death, a thought that plagued her. Things were difficult those last days. He was thoughtful to respect her choice whether she wanted to write him by giving her his address.

She grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and wrote of her most favorite holidays past. A smile found her face as she expressed her love of hot cocoa during cold winter days just as he did. She answered his questions, though not as personally as she used to. Draco still read through her letters before they were sent. Though it was possible to send them in secret when he was at practice, he would not miss the fact that she always replied to letters.

Trust was required for any sort of freedom. Draco watched over her more closely when he was suspicious.

Viktor had turned to a dear friend within their letters. He knew many things about her that were easily forgotten by her other friends. The thoughtfulness into every moment he experienced, Viktor remembered everything. He loved to hear what book she'd read and how she liked them.

When was the last time Ronald asked about a book that wasn't a textbook?

Despite what was spread at the tournament, Viktor was an intelligent person. He wore it gently. Part of that was the fact he was a professional athlete. There was a façade he exuded when he became 'Viktor Krum, best Seeker in the world' that was truly different than the man underneath. He was neither aggressive or rash. Strong. Strong he was. But the others aspects about his personality that she believed to be truth were nothing but presumption.

Hermione had just signed her name with a simple flourish when Draco strode through the long aisle toward her table. His hair was wet from a recent shower. Practice got him all sweaty, an idea she enjoyed in secret. They shared a brief moment of eye contact as he sat across from her.

Ah, yes. Leather and oil. The way he smelled after Quidditch.

"Told you it was cold up there," he started.

"I know," she replied softly. "I just wasn't ready to leave."

His eyes flickered toward her lips before they rested at the things in front of her. The swell of his Adam's apple rose slightly.

The result of their snog session was not forgotten with her either. Her knickers were filled with her luscious cream that mortifyingly aroused her. Draco had done that to her. He took a virginity that she would never have again. It left a need for more. She craved more.

She was easily more excited by the stray of his eye to swell of her chest or the parting of her lips.

His throat cleared abruptly. "Ah. Correspondence."

Godric, she needed to control herself. She pulled her thighs tight together to tamper the growing urge to part her legs for him.

"That's right," she replied in a forced tone of indifference.

"To anyone in particular?"

The question was rhetorical. He knew whom was to receive its contents. A charade he proceeded to enact each time she handed him an envelope.

Her eyes rolled as she handed it over. "As if you have to ask. You have read them all. You should know by now how boring they are."

"I never said they bored me." He unrolled the letter of the parchment. His eyes scanned through the rows of sentences with hunger. "They're a fascinating study. I've deduced much about you from these letters."

"Really?" She hummed in response. "Show me one of those letters to your mother so I might learn a little something about you."

He looked at her curiously. The letter captured more of his attention than her statement. Still, both worked him over fast.

The letter was sent down rather harshly. Or rather, it was snapped down with he flick of his wrist.

"I can't help but notice many mentions of Weasel holidays in this letter," he stated. "Just how much time do you spend over there?"

She thought a moment and replied, "A fair bit."

"Not this Christmas I should hope."

Oops. She had not thought about that. It would break her promise of 'no alone time' with Ron.

The quiet thinking was too long to ease Draco's anxiety. His glare turned pointed.

"Pet." Draco's tone was put under great control. The sound lower than the quiet of the Great Hall. "Not this one, correct?"

"No. Not this one." It was not what she wanted to say. In that moment when his possessive control showed through, she wanted to tell him news he didn't want to hear. What did that mean?

He eased back in his seat, appeased. It was a dangerous topic to mention, Ron. He hardly got that angry when she mentioned Harry. Something about Ronald Weasley and her made Draco irate and irrational, hardly traits of his Slytherin house.

Hermione gazed at him through her content. She was glad that she felt that way about him again. It was easier to breathe with him around.

Something about Draco Malfoy made things feel right.

"Mum and Dad are taking me to France on holiday," she explained. "We like to ski."

He snorted. "Oh aye. I'd like to see that."

"I'm a very talented skier I'll have you know."

It was clear from the derisive snort and doubtful gaze that he was not satisfied with her statement of her prowess on the slopes. To his credit, he did not bicker. That she would not have stood for. Perhaps, he knew how much she'd fight him on it.

Draco tapped the letter. "You wouldn't be planning a meet up with Mister Krum, would you?"

There it was. That thing she hated about him. Her nose turned red hot when she pulled the letter away.

"Is that all you think of me, Draco? A slag who shags her way through wizards?" She took great care to fold the letter carefully. It was tucked to safety within her satchel. "Don't you know any better?" She added softly.

Her eyes were rested at the schoolwork ahead of her. She should finish it. The unsettled disappointment in her belly said otherwise. It wanted comfort in the form of hot tea and chocolate. Or hot cocoa, seeing as it was that time of year.

She counted days on her fingers, suddenly remembering that she was expected to start a menstrual cycle soon. The sudden panic made her concerned about lateness but as she counted through the days in her head, she was right on track.

Her heart calmed in her chest. Godric, that was the last thing she needed to worry about. Especially since they hadn't actually shagged. It just felt like it. That guilty pleasure of their bodies pressed together, the pleasure mounting inside her body until she couldn't hold it any longer. The sheer ecstasy that would come from his cock.

Oh. Her own thoughts were just as uncontrollable as her body. Her mind made mental note of 'birth control'. It was just about time to start it.

Draco reached across the table to tap his fingers against her wrist. "I do. It's just those other ones I don't trust."

"Ron's been my friend for years. Not once has he made a move. You can trust that."

"The same Weasel who cursed himself with mouthfuls of slugs and made you cry after the Yule Ball because he was so jealous you had anyone else who might like you?" Draco remarked. "That's the one I should trust with my pet?"

The Great Hall started to buzz with noise. Many more had filtered in for their free time. It was not expected to be quiet for assignments, so they could be as loud as they wanted.

Benches of nearby tables were fuller. A large crowd of Gryffindors were at the table behind her locked in a wizard's chest tournament that had them howling with each lost piece. Some colorful expressions resulted in scowls of displeasure from Madame Hooch. Her amber eyes sharply curbed their excited hoots to settled voices.

"How did you know about that?" She was thrust in a memory of sobbing in the Gryffindor Tower in a ruffled dress, the prettiest she felt in her life. That night was a mixed memory since Viktor made it wonderful while Ronald made it upsetting.

She exhaled in control. Her eyes focused on her surroundings.

A few Slytherins had filtered in at the conclusion of their practice. Terry Higgs was there. She recognized the earring and knotted top bun. His back was to her. Other Slytherin boys sat near. They were older since she did not recognize any of them.

Then she came. Pansy's short bob glided up to Higgs.

That was the other witch of Draco's life. The bitch witch. Godric, how much Hermione hated that entitled sneer. Everything about Pansy Parkinson made Hermione sick. With anger and pure resentment.

The witch kissed Draco first. He'd probably shagged her, too.

It was an insult to human nature that a girl as Pansy Parkinson, shallow and over the top, and one as Hermione Granger, rational and mature, were to share the same man in their lives. Hell, it was an insult to Hermione!

The witch did not own Draco. She was not his future wife. There was nothing of temptation within that bulldog face and pathetic whine. Draco had everything he would ever need right in Hermione.

"Everyone heard about it," Draco stated. He must have noticed her halted gaze because he overlooked his shoulder where Pansy and Higgs were a few tables away. He turned back with a scowl. "Fantasizing?"

"Yeah. About strangling the bitch."

The tip of his quill pierced his parchment. His eyes raised in alarm.

"I beg your pardon."

Hermione ripped her gaze away from the stupid witch whose flowing, pig-squeal of a voice fluttered to their ears.

"Nothing," she said bitterly. Don't say it. Don't say it. She could not say it…"Just says something about your taste in witches."

His pale brows raised. "Something you have to say, Granger?"

She sighed and forced a smile. "None."

But when he turned back down to his schoolwork, she couldn't resist the urge to add, "A wizard must be hard pressed for a shag to willingly be friends with the likes of her."

The quill dropped from Draco's hand. The thin of his lips sloped to a frown.

"You'll do well to remember just to whom you speak, pet."

Pet.

"Pet," she repeated bitterly. It's taste no longer felt delicious against her tongue. "A recycled nickname from lovers past? You better not have called her that."

Rather than becoming angry, which she expected and anticipated, Draco looked at her with an all new gaze. His eyes were soft yet fully illuminated as they beheld every inch of her face. His lips rested peacefully in line, not stretched or curled.

She was bewitched with his beauty in those moments when the shield dropped away. The crinkle in the corner of his eye, the expressive way his eyebrows moved within his forehead, how his fingers caressed things beneath them. He looked so genuine. At ease.

His fingers grazed against the back of her hand.

"Come on." His neck gestured toward the door. "Let's get some fresh air."

"Didn't you already get some? You just came in from outside."

He rolled his eyes. "Well. Now I want some more."

They packed up their things. Hermione was curious as to what Draco planned. Was it a snog session? Did he want to privately correct her for insulting his ex-girlfriend?

Her blood turned hot. Let him try to defend Pansy Parkinson. Oh, Merlin. Just let him try.

Draco led them out the courtyard, across the Wooden Bridge and down to the edge of the Haunted Wood. She followed him without question as a good pet did. Her mind was full of questions, but none escaped her lips as he scanned the grounds around them. Not a soul was around. He ensured there was no one to see before he grabbed her hand and pulled her deep into the depths of the trees. She remained silent, just as he did.

They stepped through brambles upon brambles. An entire thicket of them. He only paused to rid his clothes of their thorns before he continued forward, hand still holding onto hers.

After what felt like a twenty-minute hike, they reached a clearing with nothing but a dirt floor and dense canopy above. Not a shred of sunlight filtered through the leaves. He waved his wand and their footprints in the soft Earth disappeared. A ward, of both silencing and invisibility, domed overtop the clearing.

Hermione stood there, baffled. "What?"

They were in the middle of nowhere. Nothing of importance was there.

"Now we're alone," he said. "No one can hear us. No one can see us."

Tension caught at the back of her throat. It was so threatening to be in the woods alone where no one might witness her murder. So, why did her body rush with literal excitement?

"Oh," was all that managed to sound.

A fan. She needed a fan! Why was she hot? The waistline of her trousers cinched tight to her flesh.

He was slow in his approach. Each step drafted in deliberate hesitation. That was enough to make her insides quiver with excitement. Her pulse sped. She thought of her smell. Something about her smell made her nervous. Why couldn't she just have a single moment to freshen up? Ensure things were…presentable.

"You do know why you are called my pet, don't you?" He inquired.

Salvia pooled in her cheeks. "So I remember my place under you."

That was difficult to say.

But then, it wasn't. Her body moved in response to the statement. It aroused her own ears to hear the submission to him. For he was the one with domain over her, so why didn't he take advantage of it already?

Draco smirked. He was close. They were half an arm's length away, hot tense air between them. Pale fingers reached out from the strength of his hand and split into the waves of her hair. Sensations tingled her scalp. Her eyes shuttered close a second to relish its pleasure.

More. She burned with need. More.

"It's because you are owned by me. My name. Draco Malfoy upon your body. And I call you pet for all to know just who you are bound to," he answered in a gentle tone. "A pet is played with gentle hands for fear of the master."

Heat filled her body. The small of her back arched forward toward him. The strands of her knickers withheld her excitement from his eye, but she guessed he knew it was there. He wore the name, "Slytherin Sex God" with more pride than his Prefect badge.

Her breath jilted when his own hips met hers. "And why is it that you play with me at all? There are plenty of better witches ready to take my place."

"None would fill the position quite the way you do," he murmured as his lips grazed the dip of her collarbone. She gasped. "Of that, I am convinced."

Plenty things filled Hermione's mind. Hormones surged in need of release. She wanted to appease their needs because they felt so bloody good, but there were other things at work within her mind.

As much as it literally pained her body, she focused on her own plots.

"But this isn't what you planned. Not at first." She gasped when his hand brushed against her nipple. Her lips trembled with vocal need. The dripping in her knickers turned to a steady gush. She fought through heavy breaths. "You. Had. Other. Plans."

His hand rolled her nipple just enough to have her moan aloud. Her hands needed to touch him.

She grasped his shoulder if not to steady herself as she was overcome with pleasure.

"Their plot would not surprise you," he said. His tongue explored up her neck. It's sticky sweet trail brought forth gooseflesh. She trembled when he closed it in a kiss just below her jawline. "Agony. Humiliation. All been done before."

"And now?"

Her eyes fluttered up to his with as much love she could summon. Her heart pounded. Body, screamed. She needed him.

His hands pushed her against a tree. The bark dug into her spine with jutted edges. She didn't think to wince. The pressure against her overwhelmed her thoughts. His body against hers pinned her there in his embrace. The soft swell in his pants thrust against her eager clit.

"Now, I find your agony to rather displeasing."

A chill traversed her spine. His lips upturned to a smirk as she shuddered against him. Something about it pleased him.

"Then stop causing it," she mumbled. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of lust and strategy. She had to focus. Focus on something other than the wicked delight. Her voice found some strength as she pictured Voldemort. "Don't be that wizard."

He sighed. Their connection stopped. "It is not that simple."

The mood changed just as fast as it started. Lust and filthy desires subsided below her flesh to their molten home, ready to burst at another time.

Cool air greeted the places where his body once was pressed up against hers. His retreat burned her loins with struggle. The silent trek of his feet against dirt filtered in through the calm of the forest floor.

Draco blended with the shadows of the wood as he walked. In and out. There and gone. Her eyes fought against the dark to keep stride with his movements. Silent, and ever so close. She knew he was still there.

She lost him within the swallowing black. Her lungs exhaled a soft gasp.

"You can't even face me when you say it?"

Her voice carried throughout the trees. She was not sure where he landed, but it would reach his ears.

Suddenly a body was behind her. Arms snaked around her waist. A cheek pressed against hers as his face rested alongside her own.

Then soft as a whisper, he said the words she longed to hear. "Now that I have you, I cannot let you go. There will be nothing to stop me from it. As long as I breathe, you'll be my pet. Nobody elses." He cinched his hold tighter. Her back rested at his beltline where, again, she felt a distinct rigidness against her. Instead of her cheeks, the flesh of her breasts flushed red hot and sensitive. "I'll end Potter myself if that's what it takes."

Her heart dropped to her knees. Not Harry. Not the light. She could not belong to the dark.

"But," he said, "if you turn him in, it will save us both a load of agony."

Hermione struggled against his hold. His arms were strongly latched together. She finally was forced to send an elbow in between the soft spots of his ribs to be released of their grip.

She faced him with a mouthful of fury and the face to match. "Are you mental? Why are you so intent on destroying Harry? Don't you see how important he is to me? To the world?"

It was a swift recovery from his injury. He was standing tall in a moment, ready to spit venom of his own soon after. "That fool compromises your safety for his own pleasure. The longer you are associated, the higher risk to you. I cannot have it. I'll not have another wizard be the reason you are hurt."

The shadow of the canopy left little warm found on the forest floor. Hermione shivered within her jumper and cloak. An eerie silence filtered in through the trees.

The birds no longer chirped. Faraway skittering and burrowing and shuffling stopped.

An entire wood listened close. Ears perked, ready for absorption.

"But it is me who made the choice, Draco. Me. I'm the one risking it. And I'm happy about it. Thrilled, even. It's made me the most confident since I came here." Hermione wished she could explain just how important it was. She wanted him to understand. "I'm helping myself learn."

"You're in a school, Hermione. Wake up. That's what a school is for. You don't need Potty for that."

Frustration started to set. Her eyes were filled with angry tears.

"Not with Umbridge here it doesn't! We're not learning a thing."

Draco roared out his frustration. "That's one class! It's not worth being expelled over."

She gave a pitiful look. After everything, all the information he learned in the stead of Death Eaters, he had to know what she was up against and just how unprepared she was for it.

"We both know I won't last without it." Her voice was gentle. It was filled with heartbreak as the reality of her fate was forced into her mind. "My name is on that list. You know the one. Voldemort's list of prisoners. He won't just kill me, Draco. He needs me. Alive. And whatever dark purpose he intends, I'll not survive."

The gears moved extra smooth in Draco's mind. It was a beautiful quality. He arrived at the truth. She knew when he did because his fists turned white in their fury. The wrinkles of his forehead were deep set.

"We'll handle that later." It was so easy for him to dismiss it.

This was her life! She stared at him, eyes filled with tears of horror and anger. If being his pet meant so damn much, why did Voldemort's plans mean a thing to him? Was that the point all along?

He tried to close the gap between them. Her feet skipped back farther away.

"Don't," she said. Her voice caught in her throat.

"He has you fighting each other," Draco sputtered. "And you don't see anything wrong with that?"

Her lips were brittle and dry. She licked their length to little respite. There were rips in her favorite jumper from the brambles, mud on her shoes, bleeding cracked lips from when she turned herself to an ice lolly and none of it compared to the mental havoc she was under.

Her heart pulled her in so many directions. One where she was with Draco as his beloved pet. The other on the side with all her friends. Both their loves made her a better person. It taught her loyalty when things got tough. She was taught to never turn away from a challenge.

Harry himself taught her that. Every year it was something horrifying that changed her life. He was always the culprit. The friendship she had with him put her at risk. But she never questioned it.

Now that she loved Draco, she was on the dangerous void of crossing.

"You know what you do to me, don't you?" She mumbled. "You know how to make me second guess everything. "

"Malfoy charms, pet. You've warmed."

Yes, she'd been enchanted by him. The awe of his complexity abandoned all logic.

"A little bit too much, I'm afraid," she spat.

It was an outburst that was not truly meant to come out. There was no intention of it ever being said. Her hands clamped over her mouth.

Draco stared rather like he'd seen Voldemort himself. "Tell me you're kidding."

Oh yes. Because her humor believed it funny to tell someone they loved them when her entire life would crumble around the fact.

She shook her head. A few tears spilled down her fingers as she saw him moved to fury. His hands ripped through his hair as if overcame with the urge to scream and cry.

It was the last thing she wanted to see when she told him. His hatred of it.

Draco recovered from his anger. Though his hands trembled, in assumed rage, he leveled his mood to calm. His eyes met hers. They were guarded. They withheld their emotion from her.

"Hermione," he breathed. "You can't. You can't love me."

Her head dropped to her hands. "I didn't choose it. It just happened."

"Make it un-happen then!"

"I can't, you prat!" She cried. "It isn't like I can just stow my emotions away somewhere and not feel them. I don't get that choice. They're there. I have to feel them. For you."

Draco equaled his voice to hers. Though it seemed to echo through the trees longer.

"How could you be so stupid to let that happen?"

Her lungs could not hold enough air for how large she needed to scoff long enough to reiterate her utter disbelief. "Me? You're blaming me?"

"The brightest witch in the world is so easily swayed by a bit of attention that she falls in love with the first wizard who gives her some," Draco sneered. "I can't believe I thought you'd have the slightest shred of restraint. Salazar. What was I thinking? A Gryffindor is as rash as they are stupid."

There was a split second in between when she felt her anger and when her magic coursed her veins that she realized just how powerful her emotions were. She'd suffered the mental agony of his games for months. An entire term of his hot and cold, the changing tides of his moods! His aggression against all her friends just because they had the gall to be in her life in ways he couldn't.

None of it was her doing. It was his choice.

And now she was bound to him in alliance and emotion. This entire thing was his fault!

She felt the surge of rage fill up her lungs. The strong deepening breath as she inhaled through her nose. Zaps of magic sparked from beneath of her fingertips as she bathed in the summoning wave of magic with its growing shadow. Her eyes clouded white. Power erupted from the soles of her feet; the ground vibrated beneath her step.

Draco looked around the ground in confusion. His panic was not enough to appease it.

Her wandless magic attacked the source of her pain: Draco. It pulled roots from below the ground. Their sharp edges cracked the crust of the soil, a field of needles between them. Wood snapped. The creak of moving wood splintered throughout the open air as the ground moved with roots as snakes below the surface. They wiggled. Their bodies were seen through the ground only to suddenly burst from the crust with a jagged edge.

Draco hopped in surprise them he was lifted off their ground by two large roots. They hovered a moment.

One thick root was underneath his feet. Two flanked around. They moved closer and closer to him. The steady ground was running out below his feet.

He grabbed hold of his wand. It extended forward, a threat.

A root swiped his wand out of his hand, narrowly missing his body. Draco had jumped back at the last minute. His eyes watched the fall of his wand get lost amongst the spikes below.

Hermione felt his fear. She shared it.

"Stop!" She screamed, clutching her mind. "No, no. Please, no."

She grabbed her wand and fired a few offensive spells. None worked. Their bodies were tough with layers of bark. Her lips ripped open from her chewing.

"Reducto!" She cried.

It was impenetrable. It would take too long to break through one of them before Draco was forced off their edge.

Draco's breaths echoed through the ward. His panic coursed through her flesh. It rippled throughout the tissues. Her magic was going to kill him.

Tears fell down her cheeks. It was her own doing that would kill the wizard. She still loved him, even after his hurtful words. He did not deserve to die!

"Control your emotions," he shouted from above. He teetered on the edge. One last step left before a deadly plunge.

"I can't!" She cried. The tears almost blinded her.

"Listen to me, pet. Calm down."

Hermione inhaled. Her eyes closed. She fought the frantic trembling of her hands and dug them deep in the loosened dirt.

Happy. She wanted happy.

She was back at The Burrow. Molly held a tray of fresh homemade puddings. Ron eyed them with wide eyes of constant hunger. Harry was there, Ginny by his side. They were cuddled against each other. A roaring fire was off to her right. The heavy weight of a new, historic book perched in her lap; a piece of wrapping paper still taped to the binding.

Then there was home. Her parents were there. An old comedy in black and white on the telly had them laughing until tears rolled down their cheeks. The bowl of popcorn forgotten at their feet. One kick of her mother's heel tossed the snack across the room. Neither were bothered. Their laughter continued.

A flash of platinum hair clouded her eyes. It was like Draco's but curled at the ends. The farther down she looked, the more she saw a little face of peachy skin, two large brown eyes, and curled blonde locks atop its head. She saw her favorite green pistachio muffins with ripe strawberries on a tray. The little face snuggled against her chest as a place of comfort. Draco entered the frame, smile on his face, a loose grey silken top. He gave her a gentle kiss against her cheek. "Good morning, love."

Hermione fell back. She was back in the Haunted Wood. The roots were gone. The disturbed dirt was the only evidence of their uprising.

Draco stood in the center of the clearing, bewildered and out of breath. Shock was an understatement. He was beyond processing the strength of that magic from her veins. The silver of his eyes was blown wide. He stared at her without blinking, unable to believe his mind. Without a wand, without a spell, without anything but pure emotion, Hermione moved an entire forest's roots to save her. That was power unlike any had seen.

His voice was small in the incredible dense thick tension of the forest. "How did you do it?"

It was the last thing she heard. She dashed off through the wood away from him. Tears no longer burned her eyes, but she felt their sadness all the same. Her heart was clenched in a vise. It squeezed harder and harder with every single step out of his reach.

She locked herself in Gryffindor Tower, refused to leave its safety for a meal or walk. Nothing would tempt her back out there. He was out there. He…

Hermione slept that afternoon and the entire night. Her body was sore and tired. A headache rested directly behind her eyes. Every bright light pounded against her head. It never ceased. Her pain kept her laid up in bed unable to move until she was given no choice. Ginny led her to hospital. One hand clutched Hermione's arm tight since standing made her vision spin.

One night was prescribed by Madame Pomphrey. She offered Sleeping Draughts and several potions for a headache, but none touched the pain. Hermione was not cured at the end of the night. Her head screamed. She wanted to stick a wand through her ear to ease the pressure. Her eyes burned more than the surface of the sun.

Thoughts were fire. She was unable to think too hard. Her mind grasped gently but released to the release of sleep when it overwhelmed her.

"Oh Severus," An old voice muttered. "The girl is in pain. I've given her three of your strong drafts. Nothing has helped. The poor girl can't even open her eyes."

Hermione hadn't heard them enter. She must have drifted off.

"The pressures worse." Hermione pushed her palms against her ears. "I feel like my eyes going to explode."

"Hm."

That was the tone of her unimpressed potions professor. Nothing ever moved him to be sympathetic toward a Gryffindor, especially her.

His hands suddenly ran down along her forehead. They were ice cold. Her chest exhaled sharply.

She did not like the touch of another. Since he happened.

"Madame Pomphrey!" A sudden urgent voice split the room. Voices and shuffled feet entered. The skirts of the mediwitch rustled as she walked away.

That left Professor Snape. His presence was undetectable. The man moved as silent as a wraith.

There was a pause in footsteps just at the edge of her cot. She heard their taps against the floor and their cease close. Snape gave a disproving snort and flicked the curtains closed.

"Miss Granger." His tone was low and soft. It was said with a shred of secrecy. "A headache untouched by pain potions is often the result of damage to the mind. Were you cursed?"

"No."

"Did you attempt a spell you were unskilled with?"

"No." She swallowed. "Is it serious? The damage, I mean."

The professor sighed. She suspected he was lost in thought. It was not often he made sounds that were not of the frustrated type with her. His patience was minimal.

"Time will tell," he replied. "Seeing as you are still alive, your prospect is positive." He then swallowed, "These are only seen in the most powerful kinds of magic. Rarely seen in a school aged child. What is it that you were doing leading up to the onset?"

She swallowed. "I had a loss of control. Like when I was eleven."

"Wandless magic?" He asked.

She shook her head. That was not the right word for it.

"Wordless. Thoughtless. Nothing. It just happened." Her voice sounded frail as she remembered what had almost happened. What she almost caused was traumatic. "Even when I wanted it to stop, it wouldn't. Not a spell from my wand. Nothing worked."

Suddenly he was on the other side of the bed. "How did you get it to stop?"

Merlin, she almost killed Draco! What was the matter with her?

There was no question that their agreement was ended. He was irate about her feelings for him. She could not fathom the depths of anger he would feel toward her now that her magic nearly pierced him into thousands of tiny pieces.

She could do it. He was safer without her. They belonged apart.

Hermione exhaled. "Controlled my emotions…I had to calm down for it to stop."

"Hm. A worthy skill."

She scowled. The man never missed an opportunity to spite her.

"So there's nothing you can do to help?" She snipped.

"I only said time will tell, not that my expertise is unable to aid."

The roundabout conversation frustrated her. There was little that she had patience for. His nonsense was one of them.

She gritted her teeth. "Well what does your expertise advise?"

The tension in her jaw eased the pressure of her head. She felt it dissipate. Her mind was not filled with blinding burning pain for the first time in hours.

"I will return."

His exit was soundless. She suspected his absence seeing as that she was able to hear the commotion of the other patient rather clearly. It was made easy by the fact they were recognizable voices.

Crabbe was the other patient of Madame Pomphrey's. His fingers were broken. A Quidditch injury, no doubt. The twins had broken many fingers as the team beaters. Crabbe moaned and groaned as Madame Pomphrey readied to set the bones. It was a nasty business. Bone popping and cracking coupled with the groans of the patient were not easily forgotten.

Goyle was there, too. He complained of Crabbe's whining. It sounded entirely like Malfoy.

The bones were set swiftly, and they were sent on their merry way. Their shuffles were out of focus for a few minutes before the curtain was flicked open once more.

She relaxed. Time for healing. The pain would be gone soon.

Instead four paws landed upon her shins. The little body climbed up to her chest and sat there, looking down at her. She ventured a peak out one of her eyes.

"You found me." She rubbed his head.

Drogon pressed his paw against her cheek. She smiled.

"No, it isn't any better."

He sat there and waited for Professor Snape to return. It was clear that when the professor came to administer his dose, the cat was an incredible bother and was shooed away to the foot of the bed.

Professor Snape placed a glass vial to her lips. It was a regeneration elixir that would rebuild her damaged brain tissues. He advised against strong emotions and losses of control. The effect of emotional magic was a large mystery as it mostly dissipates when the child reaches the age for a wand.

"I don't what it is that you've been experiencing, Miss Granger, but I'd advise against it at all costs. The potential for instantaneous death is substantial."

It took ten minutes before the elixir healed everything. The pressure left. Her eyes peaked open to a hospital cot with a white cat curled between her legs. Professor Snape checked her eyes with a light before he gave his seal of approval.

"Here," he said. "Dumbledore would say it is unwise to distribute cures without their need but seeing as you Miss Granger are an emotional witch, consider it a wager that the past shall repeat."

She frowned. The elixir was in a long neck thin bottle with handles of slender, twirled glass encompassing the spout. It was gently placed in a section of her bag that held it close until she could find someplace secure.

Hermione was nearly gone before the professor called her back.

Professor Snape was close. Their voices in confidence. She smelled the strange mix of potions amongst his black shroud. The white of his hands hidden in the depths of his darkness. Always black. Just like Draco.

"Sir?"

He leaned in close and spoke in but a whisper. "It shall be in your best interest to not reveal this to anyone. Should others learn of such power, their interest may find its way to you."

Her heart sputtered.

Voldemort, he meant. The name was not spoken, but heavily implied. This was a man in the Order, on the side of good, also closely aligned with evil. Dumbledore trusted him as genuine. The warning sounded a profoundly serious statement.

There were things that Voldemort wanted her for already. The professor knew that himself. Spies had heard that there were other plans developed in the realm of evil.

"Trust no one," he added. "No one."

"Not even the Order?" She blurted.

"It would be unwise. Should they be cornered, what might spill from a person's lips?" A thin brow arched. It was a challenge to deny a soul would betray her. But that was a lie. There were curses worse than death that would make a person do anything to stop the pain. Serums slipped through lips could do the same. "I trust you're able to manufacture a lie worthy of convincing your friends?"

Lying to Harry and Ron and Ginny? Again?

She nodded.

His features remained taut, convinced. "Well? Let's hear it."

"Stress migraine," she replied. "From studying to much and not drinking enough water."

"How were you cured?"

It was silent in the room. Madame Pomphrey was charting the commotion of Crabbe's broken fingers. A quill scratched against the parchment with haste as she recorded the event and the treatment. "What about Madame Pomphrey? She knows."

"Focus, Granger. What is the treatment for a stress headache?"

His dark eyes were intense against her face. Was it the purpose of every Slytherin to force discomfort with such undivided focus?

"Fluids, rest, and strong pain potions."

The man exhaled out his nose. He was quiet for a time, as if in thought. "I suppose it is an acceptable fabrication."

Hermione glanced over at the mediwitch. Her notes had to document the failure to respond to such treatment. She bit her bottom lip. The information was too dangerous for anyone to know according to Professor Snape.

"You're dismissed," he said with a wave of his hand.

"But what about – ."

"Must you linger where you are not wanted?" He snipped. "Run along to class before I take points from Gryffindor for unrelenting annoyance."

He aimed his words to hurt. It did. She huffed out through the double doors with smoke billowing out of each nostril. Her mind was resolved to march back in when she heard the faintest clatter on the other side.

She listened closely. Nothing sounded. She ventured a peak inside.

From just the slight crack of the door, she saw Professor Snape raising his wand at Madame Pomphrey's head. He worked with loose flowing silvery strands. Her memories! The end of his wand pulled one out. It was flicked into a solution where foam and smoke formed within the glass.

Hermione hyperventilated into her pillow as the scene replayed in her mind. Over and over.

She wiped her eyes from the tears that were slowly cascading down. Her fear, a visible mark. She shook from the fright.

Professor Snape had pulled and burned the real memory from Pomphrey's mind. The tone of her newly discovered power was set darker. His warning. It was serious enough to not have a soul know its existence.

A/N: thanks for all the follows and favorites on this story. The comments are wonderful and encouraging. I read them all. I'm blessed for the positive response. Never when I started this story did I expect this kind of support from readers. I will definitely be continuing this story. There should be no worries of it being abandoned. I appreciate the Harry Potter fan fiction community; it's been very wonderful to me.