Chapter 19 – Searing
A/N: Hello y'all – IT'S MY MFING BIRTHDAY, so I've got a surprise for you. Enjoy!
Reveling in the warmth of the gentle morning sunlight, Hermione was hesitant to open her eyes. She breathed in deeply, the fogginess of sleep still heavy on her brow. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so soundly. Burrowing her face deeper into the soft, downy pillow, she began to tuck her arms under when her fingers brushed lightly against something solid. Her eyes popped open in surprise as memory of last night's events tumbled around her head.
Shifting to her side, she was startled to find Draco Malfoy's sleeping form across the bed and swiftly snatched her hand away. She held still, wandering if her movements had disturbed him. When he didn't move, she decided to use the opportunity to study him up close. He was wearing a pair of navy cotton nightclothes, in which the top buttons were undone and his chest was visible. Dark blonde hairs peeked through and she blushed fiercely. She quickly averted her gaze from his oddly attractive chest hair and settled on a much safer location, his head. He practically glowed in the morning sun, a halo shining his hair.
She tore her eyes from him and looked at the ceiling. She winced when she noticed the scorch marks branded across the wood. Looking around, she surveyed the damage from her night terror. The headboard was cracked, one of the armoire's doors was hanging on its hinge, downy feathers coated the floor, and a lantern laid smashed to pieces. The previously welcoming sunshine now illuminating her destruction with a harsh glare. She released an irritated grunt.
How had she been able to cast her magic subconsciously?
The question perplexed her. Children had accidental outbursts, but they were always while the young witch or wizard was awake. They were never known to be asleep. Racking her brain, she couldn't recall any recorded incident in which this had occurred. Frowning, she glanced back over at Malfoy and idly wondered what he thought of her latest magical outburst. They seemed to be occurring more frequently. She had always been proud of her emotional control on her magic, but it seemed to be slipping away. Maybe it was the remnants of that rotten dream, but a small part of her felt that 'dream Draco' had been correct in calling her weak.
On the other hand, her magic felt the most settled since their arrival. Despite having a brutal nightmare only hours earlier, she felt energetic and well-rested. Could his closeness, and the bonded magic by extension, have some potential effect? Or maybe, she speculated, different types of contact might result in different manifestations of the combined magic.
Shifting closer to the center of the bed while focusing on her magical intention, a soft ribbon of light appeared between them. She swept her fingers through the gold and silver mist, sending tingles over her skin. Reaching out, she delicately brushed across his pale brow and watched for any reactions from their magic. It seemed to glow a little brighter, but otherwise there was no noticeable change. Her fingers continued to drift down his face, tracing the curve of his cheek and jawline before coming to a stop on his chin. She could feel the gentlest sigh of his breath hot on her finger and momentarily, she forgot about her bond experimentation. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, lips parted and relaxed. They were a pale pink color and dreadfully appealing. Light brown bristles framed them, a direct contradiction to the paleness of his other features. She found she liked facial hair on him. Holding her breath, she placed the tip of her finger on his bottom lip. At the contact, their combined magic flared brightly and Hermione gave a yelp and yanked her hand back in shock.
She quickly inspected her fingers for any signs of injury and huffed to find them perfectly normal. It had felt akin to accidentally touching a scalding cauldron. Suspicious her loud outburst had most definitely disturbed her nearby bedfellow, she looked over to find Malfoy's piercing gaze watching her intently. His face betrayed nothing, prompting a wave of panic in her. His eyes shifted down to the flow of magic pulsing between them, the light illuminating his features. She watched wordlessly as he examined the bond. Carefully, his hand shifted from under the pillow to thread lightly into the shimmering mist. She inhaled sharply at the contact, leaving her stuck between near euphoria and breathlessness. The magic was her physical manifestation and to have him directly touch her magic was nearly indescribable. Intensely curious, she lifted her shaking hand and held it under his. Her fingertips brushed his wrist and his touch mirrored her own. She felt the heat build between their palms and a flush rose to his cheeks. She looked into his eyes, searching. His breath quickened and she felt her blood rush at the dark look in his eyes. Miserably, she pulled her hand back and with a wave extinguished the magic. A long silence stretched between them before he finally spoke.
"I've been meaning to ask you what my magic looked like. No surprise that mine is silver and yours is gold. Do you think the Sorting Hat looks at our magic before sorting us?" He remarked dryly.
"I'm not sure actually. Personally, I think it would be interesting information to have. I have always wondered how the Sorting Hat makes a decision like that, especially one that essentially directs our education and social lives for seven years." She answered, "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner. I know I would have been curious myself if our situations were switched."
"Well, that is interesting. We've found something you don't know." He teased, raising up on his side, "No need to apologize. Our magic is already partially entangled, I would have seen it eventually. I am just surprised you are able to manifest it so easily. It's not so simple to physically pull your magic out like that. Although, you were able to subconsciously attack with it last night, so I shouldn't be surprised at this point."
Hermione cringed in response. It would definitely take some time to magically repair all the damage she had caused.
"So, are we going to talk about what just happened or what happened last night?" he asked gruffly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "Because I have several questions."
Hermione didn't particularly want to talk about the contents of her nightmare, especially the darker aspects, but knew eventually she'd need to address it. She sighed and settled into the soft bed. If she was going to talk about such unpleasant things, she might as well be physically comfortable.
"I assume you want to know what I dreamed?" she ventured, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
He nodded in response.
"I dreamt I was back at Malfoy Manor being tortured. Only instead of Bellatrix, it was you." She whispered, the despair creeping back into her veins.
"Well…" he sighed, "I can see why that would cause all this and why you would be hesitant to speak with me about it."
She groaned as he accurately gauged her reluctance to broach the subject.
"I didn't know I was capable of doing that, so I can't very well explain it." she insisted, "But I assume it has something to do with Cerridwen."
"You are probably correct in that assumption." He smirked, "Next, how come your dreaming of me? Regardless of context."
She bolted upright and rounded on him, daggers in her eyes.
"Malfoy!" she gaped, "Of all the questions you could ask, that's your follow-up to all this?"
"Can you blame me Granger?" he replied simply, amusement in his eyes, "It's not very often a charming witch admits to dreaming of you."
Of all the responses that Hermione guessed would ever come from Draco Malfoy's mouth, that decidedly was NOT one of them.
"You think I'm charming?" she quipped, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
"Stay on topic Granger." He chided playfully, "I believe I asked you something first."
"Ugh. Fine." She snapped, "You weren't physically hurting me, but the words you spoke hurt much worse than the cuts and spells. You called me weak, disgusting, and pathetic. You said how could someone like me ever sully themselves with something so beneath them?"She explained, her voice faint.
The light smile dropped from him face. He heaved himself up into a sitting position and shifted towards her, running his hand through his hair in irritation. Hermione watched patiently as he appeared to go through a variety of emotions before he finally spoke.
"Hermione," he pressed gently, "I am not that person anymore. I am unaware when my mindset began to shift, but it changed nonetheless. I made some exceptionally deplorable decisions that I will carry for the remainder of my life. I am a damaged individual, but I am hoping to at least right some of the wrongs I've committed. I certainly don't believe you are beneath me or that you could ever sully me. If anything, I am the one who is sullying you." He finished with a bitter tone.
Hermione's heart ached for him. She knew her mind had been in a dark place and that was no fault of his. He had shown her nothing but comfortable respect since they had arrived, save for his usual pompous snark. She didn't think it fair to drag him down with such thoughts. She slipped her hand across the bed and lightly grasped his hand.
"I don't believe that for one second." She assured, "It was just a horrible nightmare. I don't honestly think you capable of saying such cruel things or wanting to hurt me."
He merely stared at her hand wrapped around his, seemingly baffled by the gesture or her words. She once again was unable to tell what was going on in that head of his, but she hoped he believed her. He looked up, a relieved expression on his face.
"Can you explain what happened this morning? With the magic?" he asked, his curiosity returned.
Hermione laughed softly.
"It appears your mind never stops questioning like mine." she joked, "I was curious if the bond reacted to different types of touch."
"Experimenting on me while I sleep?" he intoned, his voice neutral, "Now that's just bad manners. Next time, just ask."
"I'm sorry, I should have asked your permission first." She mumbled, ashamed of her rude behavior.
"Apology accepted. So, what did you find out?" he inquired, his fingers beginning to ghost idly over hers.
She watched as he traced random patterns into her skin and felt a low hum inside. She swallowed loudly, finding her throat suddenly dry.
"Our combined magic appears to react slightly whenever we touch, but nothing terribly noticeable. I presumed that if the touch were a bit more, uh, personal, the magic would react stronger." She murmured, slightly terrified of his reaction.
His eyebrow arched, but Hermione wasn't sure if it was in intrigue or consternation at her admission. He gave her a critical look, waiting for her to continue.
"I traced your face with my finger, gauging the result." She hesitated, her face flaring in embarrassment.
"And?" he urged, tightening his grip on her hand.
"I-I got to your chin and got distracted thinking about how I was surprised that you had dark facial hair despite everything else being blonde." She stammered, "I wanted to, uh, touch y-your. Sweet Merlin! Why is this so hard to say!?" she cried in frustration, attempting to wrest her hand from his hold.
The look in his eyes were downright glacial. Before she could process it, he yanked her roughly towards him. His grasp still tight on her as his cheek came to rest on hers. She could feel the heat of his breath tickle her ear and her chest constricted in fear mixed with a flash of something much more primal.
"What did you want to touch?" he growled, a warning low in his voice that spread like fire in her veins, "Tell me, Hermione."
She whimpered at his demand.
"Your lips." She whispered, "I wanted to touch your lips."
She shivered when he released a soft laugh that shifted her curls. He tilted his head down as if to murmur into the curve of her neck.
"And what then?" he questioned slowly, his words conjuring goosebumps on her skin.
She could have sworn she felt their bond flashing, twisting, and coiling deep within. An ache that was both delicious and painful which escalated the longer their contact was maintained. His hold on her wrist lessened and began sliding up the bare skin of her arm.
"The magic flared." She blurted out, her mind too focused on his agonizingly gentle touch.
"It seems to me," he murmured, "That the bond is seeking more connection. Something of a more intimate nature."
Her mind instantly went fuzzy and she thought she might internally combust at the thoughts of sharing something of a "more intimate nature" with Malfoy. He dropped his hand from her arm and gently pulled his face away. For the briefest moment, his lips ghosted against the corner of her lips.
Instantly, she was transported back to that starry ceiling back in Malfoy Manor. Only this time, it held nothing but awe and delight as celestial bodies sparkled across her vision. Fireballs thundered above an inky darkness and a kaleidoscope of dusty, cosmic colors swirled. She inhaled deeply, every breath sweet and fulfilling. The bond roared in joy, secretly urging for more. Promising some great secret, like she was Pandora opening that forbidden box.
Feeling the bed shift violently, she blinked back to reality. Malfoy was panting an arm's length away from the bed, hunched over with clenched fists. Lifting a trembling hand to her chest to steady her breathing, she stared up in confusion.
"What on Circe's green Earth was that!?" she gasped out.
Pushing sweat-soaked hair off his face, he stood up straight and fixed her with a haughty glare.
"A more personal touch." He shot back then marched from the bedroom leaving a trail of dust in his wake.