~.~.~.~.~

Samhain Bonfire was a uniquely Scottish wizarding tradition.

At Hogwarts, it was a costume party-slash-pep assembly as it was celebrated at the height of Quidditch season, and everyone was talking House pride. The sports arena served as the site for the merrymaking; various piles of detritus—dead leaves the Grounds Keeper had raked up and any trees that had been felled by age or weather over the last few months—were gathered on the sandy floor of the pitch and burned once the sun went down. Revelers travelled between a dozen banefyres, greeting friends, singing songs, drinking pumpkin juice, and indulging in sweets. People dressed in all manner of Halloween-themed fashion, from angels to skeletons to exotic creatures.

I'd come as the High Lady of Night, dressed in a re-purposed black ball gown that fell to my feet and covered to the wrist, with just a hint of décolletage to give it some pizzazz. A simple enchantment had conjured a set of black succubus wings for my back and another allowed the crystals on an old tiara set on my head to glimmer and wink like actual stars. I'd let my curly hair fall free from its usually restrained plait, feeling a 'wild Fae' look would better suit the purposes of the costume, for the High Lady of Night was also called Maev, Queen of the Unseelie Fairies.

So far, no one had correctly guessed my identity; I'd mainly been pegged for a Vampiress.

On one of the food and drink tables situated on the edge of the sand line, I grabbed a bottle of ice-cold Butterbeer and turned to watch the festivities, content to sit on the sidelines now that I'd walked the field once. Avoiding that harpy, Parkinson, was at the top of my list for tonight, so I kept her in my peripheral vision and stayed away from my fellow Slytherins.

Between one blink and the next, Draco stepped out of the shadows behind me, appearing at my elbow. He was dressed all in black leather and his wings were fully visible to the public. I was betting he was passing them off as part of his costume and secretly laughing behind his face at everyone's ignorance.

Our conversations via parchment had continued for the last several weeks, growing increasingly more provocative. The two of us danced carefully around the line between proper conversation and indecent innuendo, he closer to it than I. I'd maintained a certain protective distance, still wary of his interest in me while he was dating the scourge of Hogwarts. Still, it had been nice to have someone to confide into a certain degree. I'd even begun thinking of Draco as a friend, which was odd for me, as I didn't have many in my life. Most people found me too prickly or like my mother, too 'swotty' and unfeminine, so it was somewhat disarming and at the same time, encouraging that Malfoy seemed eager to get to know me better. It made me feel 'normal' for the first time in my life.

That didn't mean we didn't enjoy antagonizing each other at every opportunity. It seemed to be our thing.

"Hello, Granger, darling," he purred, giving me the once-over. "You're looking particularly gorgeous tonight."

"You're looking dapper yourself," I replied, noting that he did look quite handsome. "But your cologne—is that eau d'moufette you're wearing?" I wrinkled my nose in keeping with the performance. "It's quite fragrant."

He really didn't smell like skunk; I was just ribbing him. The fragrance he was wearing tonight was actually quite masculine, something both dark and spicy. It smelled delectable and made me all-too aware of how close he was standing.

He laughed at my jab and I had to admit, the sound did things to my libido that should have been illegal. Even more arousing, however, was that Malfoy could speak French. That skill only made our banter sessions even more fun, I had to admit. There was something almost erotic about insulting him in a foreign language that had originally been designed to seduce the auditory senses.

"No, love, they were fresh out Mephitidae today," he informed me, and I was impressed he knew the Muggle scientific name for skunks. "I went with Amortentia instead. It's much easier to brew." He leaned into me, presenting his neck for me to sniff. "Do you like it?"

I did. Practically every girl there most likely did, too, and he well knew it.

"Smells like 'irritating git' to me," I told him.

He laughed again. "You cruel, beautiful thing. You do Dark Maev justice."

I was surprised he'd guessed my costume. "How did you know who I was?"

His smile was enigmatic when he held his hand out to me. "Walk with me, my Granger."

I felt a momentary panic. There was a look in his eye that told me he was going to push that line between us a little further tonight if I let him, and I wasn't sure I wanted that. Harmless flirtation I could handle, but more? "Actually, I'm calling it an evening," I said and set my half-empty Butterbeer bottle on the table behind me as I turned to leave. "Have fun with Parkinson, though. I'm sure she'll happily take care of whatever needs you might have tonight."

I was halfway back to the castle, following the lighted path towards the back entrance, when he appeared at my elbow again. "I'll walk you back."

"Why?" I demanded, quickening my pace.

His longer-legged stride easily kept up. "It isn't safe to be alone."

"We're in the safest place in Britain," I said and laughed. "Besides, I'm the High Lady of Night, remember? The Fae Queen of Starlight and Dreams…and Nightmares. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." I glanced at him sideways. "I need no man's protection. I never have."

His grin was a bright, white beacon through the relative darkness around us as we closed those last few feet to enter the castle. "I recall something different a few weeks ago."

"I'd have sorted McLaggen without you," I shot back, becoming irritated now with the fake over-protectiveness. "And really, doesn't your girlfriend wonder where you are when you're with me?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

He said that so quickly and so angrily, that I knew he was as much a victim of Parkinson as I'd been. We hadn't discussed his relationship with Slytherin's Bitch Queen in our secret notes, but I had to admit, I'd been curious for a long while as to why he'd date such a vile woman, as he hadn't seemed to be a fan of her sort of evil. Now, I thought I understood.

"Does she know about…you know?" I indicated with a pointed look over his shoulder at the massive wings that were tucked against his back. "Is that why you're with her?"

He nodded but kept his mouth closed until we were down the stairs heading towards the dungeon. "She's got something on most of us."

The picture was suddenly clear to me: Parkinson owned Slytherin House not through loyalty and friendship, but through blackmail and intimidation. I wondered if even the 'gaggle' was doing what she expected to keep on her good side.

"Why doesn't someone just stand up to her?"

A gentle touch upon my elbow and I was being directed towards the nearest empty classroom. Behind its door, Malfoy warded us against eavesdroppers and lit the room with a hovering ball of mage-light from the tip of his wand before releasing my arm.

"The Parkinsons come from Hybern, an ancient and powerful seat in wizarding Britain," he explained, as we crossed the room towards its farthest, shadowed corner to conspire together. "It's where most of the high players in government have come from over the last several hundred years. Her father is a retired Minister, but he's still powerful. They call him 'the King' if that gives you any indication."

"Alright, so her father's a big wig. You're Slytherin," I reminded him. "Find a way to knock her down a peg that either takes her father down with her in the scandal or which sets her up for Daddy dearest's massive disappointment. From what I understand, that's the kind of mischief our House does best, yes?"

In fact, I'd already considered a dozen ways in which to bring Miss Parkinson to her knees, but I had a sneaky suspicion that Dumbledore was keeping a closer eye on me than I was aware. Being asked to leave Hogwarts for an act of petty revenge would effectively end most of my future plans, and that was something I absolutely could not afford, not if I wanted to ever prove my mother wrong and have a future of my own.

"It's all a game, Hermione…"

In this case, at least, I was beginning to understand the sentiment.

"You underestimate her. She can make your life a living hell, Granger, even outside these walls."

I glanced sideways at him and let him see the determination in my eyes, the things I wasn't saying, but felt deep in the darker corners of my heart. "Eventually, she'll get her comeuppance."

He shook his head. "I can't afford such optimism. My family is in the same conservative party as the Parkinsons, but we stand to lose everything if she talks about what she knows of my heritage to that obnoxious gossip queen, Rita Skeeter."

"That was awfully careless of you, showing her your wings, then. Why did you?"

His head hung loosely on his shoulders. "It was an exchange."

I stepped closer, drawn in by his mysteries. "Your secret for…what?"

His expression grew wary. "Let's just say that what I did then, and continue to do now, keeps the people I love out of her orbit."

"Fair enough." I took another step towards him. "So you're her boyfriend in exchange for the safety of your friends and family."

"Yes, and no," he admitted, his mouth tightening at such an ugly admission. "She doesn't give a shit about me really. I'm simply her pet whore."

As if he was humiliated by the truth, he stepped away from me, crossing over to the teacher's desk, where he perched on its edge, ever mindful of his wings. He'd created space between us, and I knew it was to give me time and distance to better consider him, to walk away if I couldn't handle his circumstances. He was giving me an 'out' from this budding friendship.

His predicament touched upon the part of me that grew indignant on behalf of others in the face of injustice, though. The thought of that awful witch forcing him to sexually perform for her had my hackles rising to levels they'd never stood before. What she was doing was no better than rape, because Draco couldn't say 'no' without severe consequences. She was his 'master' and he was no more than a puppet on a string for her.

It was exactly the thing my mother expected me to become someday for some man.

The idea infuriated me. A strange protective and possessive urge overtook me in that moment. It required discipline not to march right back out to the Quidditch pitch that minute and hex the living hell out of Parkinson.

"You know, a Confundus Charm cast on her every day would be a lot easier," I said in an icy tone. I walked towards him and closed the gap that had opened between us. "Simple to disguise, too. If used enough times, it can even induce permanent memory loss. People have even been known to revert to infantilism from its lasting effects."

Yes, it was a dark thought, but I was feeling a lot like the High Lady whose crown I'd adopted for the night right then.

Draco's grey eyes sparkled as brilliantly as my tiara in the white light above us. "Are you trying to get me to do your dirty work for you, love?" He seemed quite favourable of the idea and commending of me for postulating it. "Or just thinking aloud?"

I shrugged. "I'm saying there are no possibilities of accidental pregnancy with my plan."

He laughed, and it was quite the merry sound. "You are utterly brilliant, aren't you? A Confundus Charm! I don't think anyone has ever considered its use in quite the same way as you." He practically purred at me in approval. "Yes, I do believe you could definitely give Maev a run for her money." He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it in an old-fashioned, courtly manner and my breath caught in surprise. "My miraculous, burning starlight…"

Abruptly, my mood shifted, my tension eased as I felt the kind of acceptance one rarely finds in this world: that of a kindred soul.

It seemed Malfoy accepted my 'less civilized' side, something everyone else in my life had spent years trying to remould to a new purpose or eradicate altogether, finding it uncouth. Not him, though. He seemed to value that part as a vital survival mechanism, not something to fear or loathe. He seemed to enjoy me for the woman I was and did not appear to want to change me into the female society felt I should be.

He made me feel worthy, something that only Crookshanks had ever been able to accomplish prior to tonight.

Regretfully, I withdrew my hand from his, but I could still feel his lips upon my skin. "You mention the Fairy Queen as if you know her personally." I stared at his wings, where they flared out across the desk behind him to keep them from being squashed. "Are you Fae then?"

He gave me a feral grin. "Come closer and find out."

Curiosity had me now. It didn't help his expression was challenging, and I could never pass up a dare that poked at the levels of my bravery. I closed the inches that separated us and stood between his spread legs, meeting his eyes. There was admiration in them for my reckless courage. Slowly he bent a wing forward so I could look at it up close.

"You're definitely Slytherin, but I'm surprised the Hat didn't attempt to sort you Gryffindor, too," he said as I lowered my head to his wing and examined it in the moonlight coming in through the window nearby. "Or Ravenclaw, at the very least."

"It tried," I admitted, fascinated by the thin black skin stretched over such delicate bone. "On both counts. I asked for Slytherin."

He seemed genuinely surprised by that.

"Why?"

I couldn't help the impish smirk that curled my lips. "Because it was precisely the thing guaranteed to needle my controlling, horribly-conforming mother."

He laughed again, apparently finding me a gem of comedy…that was until I reached out and stroked over his wing with a feather-light caress.

His whole body jerked and went stiff. A hiss escaped his lips, the sound of a snake caught off-guard.

I hesitated, but in the end, decided upon testing the theory I'd read that male Veela didn't like their wings touched as a general rule. Depending upon how Draco reacted this time, it would at least allow me to be able to narrow down options on his breed.

I boldly tickled his wing with the lightest scratching of my fingernails.

As if I'd pushed the button firing up his lust, Malfoy shuddered and a deep, masculine groan escaped his throat. His expression shifted abruptly into one of instant arousal. His shoulders bunched and stretched, emphasizing the Quidditch-honed muscles under his shirt. I glanced down to notice his erection was in full prominence as well and pressing against the front of his leathers. I had to admit, it seemed…impressively sized.

Definitely not Veela.

"Do it again," he whispered, those grey eyes now glittering with a dark desire. "Touch me."

I did, running the length of one hard ridge all the way up to his shoulder, before backtracking over the silken, fleshy part to the opposite end. Malfoy's hands gripped the edge of the desk, the knuckles going white as he tightened his grip. His body trembled and his thighs clamped around my hips, pinning me in place. A sheen of sweat appeared above his top lip and his gaze went glassy with pleasure.

"Can I touch you back?" he asked in a voice raw with sexual hunger.

Mesmerized by the moment, I nodded.

Slowly, as if he was afraid I'd bolt, his hand lifted from the desk to my cheek. His touch was gentle, almost awed as he traced the contours of the bones, followed the path of my jaw, and rubbed his thumb over my lips. I unconsciously licked them, and his focus shifted to the quick darting of my tongue.

"So independent, so fierce… Do you not allow anyone to take care of you?" he asked quietly.

"I haven't needed anyone to since I was ten."

It was a fact that no longer bothered me. I'd long ago learned that to let my mother get too close was to allow her to control me, and I refused to be under her dominion, especially as all it would ever lead to was me in a collar, with my chains passed on to some man she approved of in the future. That was why when I was home on breaks, I did the cooking for the family, did my own dishes and my laundry, and I kept my room spotless so there could never be any criticism. I used my grandmother's inheritance to buy my own clothing. I'd been doing all that since I was ten.

On the plus side, all that self-motivation had only helped me to become academically top of the class, despite Madam Olympe's disapproval of my excessive desire to achieve. I knew if I could just get through the last year of my schooling here at Hogwarts, I would be set-up for a good Ministry career. As a Muggle-born, I was already going into that with a political disadvantage, but perhaps having ace grades and teacher recommendations from Hogwarts would help me overcome such prejudice. That's what I'd been banking on, anyway.

…And none of my plans included a torturous teenage romance.

"Thank you for walking me back to the castle and for explaining things to me," I told him. "I hope you'll think about what I said, too. Parkinson's a menace and needs to be stopped. You need to be free of her." I took his hand in mine. "You're a good man to protect and care for your loved ones…but I have to wonder, who is protecting and caring for you?"

He seemed astonished by that question, as if, like me, he'd been self-sufficient for so long that it had become a habit.

With that, I left the room and continued back down to the Slytherin dormitories alone.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes:

Lines borrowed (some altered) from "A Court of Thorns and Roses" series and altered for this chapter's use:

"Hello, Feyre, darling," he purred.
– Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

"Cruel, beautiful thing."
– Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

"I found him carefully studying me, his lips in a thin line. "Has anyone ever taken care of you?" he asked quietly.
"No." I'd long since stopped feeling sorry for myself about it."
- Feyre and Tamlin, A Court of Thorns and Roses

Hybern is the name of the island whose fairy King is the enemy of Feyre and Rhysand in the novel canon.