Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Claimer: I own you.
Notes: I don't really own you. Unless you want to sell me your soul. *bursts out into song* Oh, the devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for some souls to steal!
Seriously, though, folks: The reason this story will be slowing progress slightly in the next weeks is because I have started summer camp! But not just any summer camp - ballet camp. Dancing straight from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every day. So, as you can see, my writing hours have been severely cropped.
THERE IS CITRUS IN THIS CHAPTER. THIS STORY IS RATED R FOR LANGUAGE (as you have figured out) AND SEMI-EXPLICIT SEX. Think twice about reading if you are under twelve. It's not really explicit, but it's a little much for the kiddies.
For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky
Part XI: Stargazers
By Pata
The head judge drummed his fingers on the table, letting the suspense build before he spoke. "Well, this has been quite a revealing romp through your memory, Mr. Malfoy."
I started to speak, but he continued before I could get a word in.
"Surely you have something to say, Ms. Granger." When he spoke, he didn't look at her. His eyes stayed fixed upon me.
"Or should you call her Mrs. Malfoy?" sniggered George.
Fred punched him lightly on the arm. "Oh, come off it, that's just mean. Herms didn't do anything."
Hermione managed a thin smile at Fred's petname for her. George and Fred continued to bicker quietly about whether or not Hermione had been directly involved in Ron's murder. They finally settled on a bet: Fred's two Galleons said that Hermione was completely innocent.
"Well, Ms. Granger?" the judge pressed, undistracted.
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I have something to say. Draco killed Ron. We know this, he admitted it. But it wasn't entirely his fault. For what my opinion counts, I think Draco is not worthy of the Kiss."
The judge's lips remained pursed, but his eyes smiled coldly. "We shall see."
The low murmur of conversation ceased as a new memory began to come to speed before our very eyes.
*
Hermione and I lay side by side in the grass, looking up at the stars and moon. Next to us lay a star map and three Astronomy books. Hermione was trying to explain about Orion's belt.
*
Hermione recognized the memory and barely stifled a scream, which, thankfully, only drew the stares of a small few.
*
"It's those three stars there," she said, gesturing to a cluster of stars arranged in a perfect line.
"There?" I pointed to somewhere way off in oblivion.
She laughed gently, then guided my hand so that I found the constellation. "No, you squib, here! You're stupid."
"As stupid as Weasley?"
It was a dumb thing to say. I knew it as soon as the words left my lips. But I justified it, telling myself that Ron deserved it after he accused me in the dining hall earlier that night.
"That's a mean thing to say, Draco."
*
I was certain everyone in the courtroom noted how she called me 'Draco' instead of 'Malfoy'.
*
She pushed herself up onto one elbow so she was facing me. "He's jealous you know. Of us."
"He knows?"
"Not really. He's pretty certain he's right."
"He is right," I said pointedly. "We are dating, more or less."
She said seriously, "He wants to kill you."
"Oh, he's just saying that." I laughed, but she didn't laugh with me. I put a hand on her arm, but she brushed it off.
"No. He means it, Draco. He's going to murder you. I saw the book in his room this evening after dinner. Rat Eyes and Fish Brains, Curses for the Beginning Wizard, open to page 214 – Death Charm. I caught sight of him reciting the words, practicing."
"What are they?"
"The words to the Death Charm?"
Sarcastically, "No, Guy Fawkes' phone numbers."
"Why do you want to know?" she asked, slightly nervous.
I took her face in my hands, kissing her slowly and passionately on the mouth. "It's him or me," I said. "Either he dies or I die."
She paused for a moment. Her facial expressions switched rapidly. Finally, she said, "Nisyl da edt soma."
"What?"
"Those are the words to the Death Charm," she whispered. "Nisyl da edt soma."
"Nisyl da edt soma…" I whispered, enjoying the feeling of the demonic words rolling off my tongue.
"Don't kill him now," she begged, "wait until morning, at least."
"Why wait?"
"I have to say goodbye. I…I have to talk with him. I have to…see him just a little more. He's one of my best friends. I can't just write him off without even speaking to him." She stood up and brushed grass from her clothing. It was a Friday; most students enjoyed wearing Muggle clothing on the weekend. "I should be going back to the common room. Walk me?"
"Yeah, sure," I said, somewhat absently.
It was late, almost one, everyone would be asleep. Hermione and I would have the common room all to ourselves. I was used to lustful girls who already would have had me before this, but Hermione preferred to be more natural, slower.
I think I liked it better that way.
I wasn't expecting to do anything further than kiss her goodnight at the portrait. I was half-hoping that she would invite me inside. God, she was so beautiful.
"Want to come in?"
I was tired, the hallways were dark, I was young and in love, and there was always the danger of running into Filch or that damned cat of his. "Sure, thanks."
I stepped through the portrait hole and into the common room. It was warm, with a big, almost bedlike couch, assorted armchairs, and a warm, red and gold fire raging in the hearth. I slung my pack off my shoulder, but it was open and a few of my things scattered out on the floor.
Fahrenheit 451 came to rest by the foot of the huge couch.
I started to say something, but she silenced me by kissing me fervently. Her hands wormed under my jacket, and she pulled it off my arms and threw it to the floor.
That was okay. What I was going to say wasn't really important anyway.
She grabbed my shirt and broke this kiss for just a second to pull it over my head, but I quickly took her lips again once she was done.
Figuring that it was my turn, I fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, undoing each one. She bent back, allowing me to slide it off her shoulders. Her fingers found the clasp of my jeans, grappling with it before finally getting them undone and adding them to the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor.
Using the weight of my body, I forced her down onto the couch, my mouth never leaving hers. She broke the kiss, lifting her chin and allowing me to trail kisses down her neck to her bare body and back up again, her hands removing the last of my clothing.
She reversed our positions so that I was on top. She seemed so experienced, so professional, but I could tell by the gentle, virgin way she shivered under my touch that this was her first time.
I hesitated. "Are you sure about this?"
"Oh, Draco," she whispered, "I've never been more sure of anything!"
"I don't want to hurt you," I said, quietly, so as not to wake the other Gryffindors, upstairs in the dormitories.
"Please. Please, I need this." Her eyes looked so sincere, so longing, so certain, I couldn't deny her.
She kissed my lips again, yelling, louder, louder – the screams giving way to moans and grunts, hers or mine I couldn't tell. We were dancing, leaping from cloud to cloud of pleasure, swirling upwards before reaching climax and floating back down like the last leaves from a tree in autumn.
As the animalistic lust passed, she curled up against my chest and we rested in silence under a blanket, together as one being. Truly content for the first time in my life, I stroked Hermione's thick beautiful hair until I passed into sleep, feeling her heart beating against mine.
On the floor sat Fahrenheit 451, the Muggle book that had started it all, stained by the blood of a virgin girl tainted by forbidden romance.
