Made of You Part 6
Disclaimers: I don't own any of these characters.
"Excuse me, but what did you just say?" At Hermione's last remark, the look of amusement on Draco's face had suddenly turned to one of bewilderment. He could not believe what he had just heard. Hermione Granger, the straight-A, goody-two-shoes student back at Hogwarts, had just told him to…
"Take your shirt off," she repeated in a simple voice, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to ask a man to strip down in front of her. "Now's not the time to be stubborn, Malfoy."
"You sound as if you have a lot of experience with these kind of things," Draco said sarcastically. His words must have hit a cord inside her, because as soon as he said this, a deep blush began spreading throughout her cheeks.
"Don't be stupid, Malfoy, you want to just stay here and bleed to death? If you don't take off your shirt, I won't be able to see how bad you've been injured." But even as she said this, Hermione's gaze dropped to the floor, unwilling to meet his penetrating stare. "I need to tend to your wounds before we go on. Who knows what we might encounter on the other side of the tunnel? By the way this night's been turning out, I wouldn't be surprised if we discovered a pack of hungry wolves awaiting us when we get there."
Draco was incredulous. "In case you've forgotten, Hermione, you're a witch. Why can't you just heal me with one of your healing spells?" By now, he was really starting to believe that she had lost all her wits.
"Well, Mr. Know-it-all, that would be a good solution, if I had my wand. But obviously, I don't seem to have it with me now, do I?" By her tone of voice, she must have thought that he was some kind of delinquent. "As if you should be the one talking here. If you're so set on healing with the wand, then why don't you just use yours?"
Feeling stupid, Draco now realized that in order to perform a healing spell, a wizard needed his or her wand. "Unfortunately, Hermione, I won't be able to do that, even though I do have my wand here with me. Us Malfoys are only familiar with methods of the Dark Arts, or have you forgotten?" This was true; ever since he was a boy, Draco's father had never bothered to teach him the art of healing, only tricks of the Dark Art.
"Guess that only leads to one thing then." Hermione's voice broke into his thoughts. "Your wound'll have to be tended in the old-fashioned muggle way. Now sit down and relax. It'll only take a little while."
Sighing, Draco sat down on the dirt floor, weary and weak. His shoulder hurt him more than ever, throbbing relentlessly. Hermione came and knelt down beside him, whispering an incantation so that his glowing wand was able to suspend itself in air, letting her hand free to tend to his wounds. Bending down, she laid her hand on his wound and began to pry it a little. He innerly winced at the sudden pain, but was unwilling to show any signs of suffering on the outside.
"This will not do Draco, you still have your shirt on." Once again, her words surprised him thoroughly. At first, he thought she was only joking around with him, but one glance at her determined face, and he knew that she was dead serious. But even so, her cheeks burned with hot color, her eyes becoming downcast.
"As the lady wishes then," he said in mock gallantry. And with a swift movement, Draco removed the clasp that held his cape up. The cape glided down from his shoulders, landing silently on the ground. Next, he ripped the front of his shirt open, causing buttons to fly all over the place. Yanking it off, he threw the shirt onto the ground with a flick of his wrist.
Draco was now completely naked from the waist up. "Happy now, Hermione? You've got what you wanted, now tend to my wounds, unless you really want see me bleed to death."
Long minutes ticked by, and still nothing happened. Hermione seemed frozen, as if unable to move from her current spot. And as brief as it was, Draco did not miss the path of her eyes, as it swept over the ridges of his hard, muscular body. He smiled slightly, noticing the way her cheeks flamed at the sight of his bare chest. So she wasn't as cool-headed as she appeared to be after all. He was somewhat pleased at this.
"Well, are you going to tend to my wounds or not?" His words seemed to break her out of her stupor. Coming towards him, Hermione placed her hands on his wounded shoulder. Despite the pain, Draco felt tingles of pleasure rushing through the spot where her hand had come in contact with his skin. Delicately, she fingered the gaping wound, gasping slightly. Apparently, it was more serious than he had originally thought it to be. The blast that he had took for Hermione had went straight through his left shoulder blade, leaving behind a large and ugly wound. The blood flow was non-stop; even now, it flowed from his shoulder down to his chest and arm.
Picking up the shirt that he had tossed onto the floor, Hermione quickly wrapped it tightly around Draco's wound. Almost immediately, the white shirt began turning a shade of red.
Draco felt more light-headed as each minute passed by. Suspecting that he was about to faint, Hermione began thinking of ways to distract him in order to keep him awake.
"So why did you go to the masked ball in the first place, Draco? Aside from trying to ruin my night, that is."
Knowing that the truth would make her despise him more than ever, he did not answer her. Instead, Draco wondered how his well-thought plan could have gotten off on such a bad start. Yes, just a bad start. Because even though it had begun unsuccessfully, Draco was not about to give up. Not yet. This was the only chance he had of destroying Voldemort, and he was not about to give up on it so easily. Voldemort. The thought of him reminded Draco about the event that had brought him to his current predicament. The wizards that had been after Hermione were definitely working for Voldemort. Draco had no doubt about that. However, the thing that bothered him the most right now was the question of why Voldemort wanted Hermione in the first place. True, she was the one person who would lead him to Harry Potter, but Draco had thought that he himself was the only one in Voldemort's "inner circle" who knew about it, besides Lucius. Of course, Lucius. He realized that he should have never told his father about Hermione, because now his father had probably blabbed everything out to Voldemort, no doubt in an attempt to save his own hide. "Dammit!", Draco cursed under his breath.
"Draco, what's wrong with you?" Hermione's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts. "First, you don't respond when I asked you a question, and now you start cursing under your breath for no reason. All this blood loss sure is affecting the way you behave. I mean, if you had kissed me now, I wouldn't be the least bit…"
She suddenly stopped, blushing furiously, realizing what she had just said. This amused Draco considerably, and he began to laugh. His laughter seemed to embarrass her even more, because she suddenly dropped her hands from his shoulder, clasping them in her lap, her gaze dropping to the floor.
His laughter ceasing, Draco impulsively extended his hand towards her, tilting her chin up so that they were face to face. He looked into Hermione's beautiful face, noting the ivory hue of her skin under the dim light of his wand, and the way her big brown eyes refused to look into his blue ones, slanting downwards instead.
"Hermione, look at me," he whispered. Reluctantly, her gazed lifted upward to meet his. They mirrored confusion, and something else he didn't quite recognize. Tenderness? "God, how you've changed during these last five years," he whispered huskily. And without thinking, Draco's mouth suddenly swept down on hers. Pulling her into his embrace, he crushed her against his hard chest. The taste of her lips was drove his senses wild; he couldn't seem to get enough of her.
And she kissed him back just as passionately. Her arms had somehow found their way around his neck, and she pulled him tighter into her embrace. God, he thought, this was madness. In the end, it was he who pulled away from the kiss. Looking down at Hermione, he noted the way her skin had become slightly flushed, her pouty lips red and swollen from all the kissing. Her eyes looked dazed, and somewhat dreamy… She was so innocent, so pure. And at that moment, Draco regretted having to use her in order to get to Voldemort. It just wasn't fair. She was too innocent. But then, his whole life was unfair. The thought of his painful childhood immediately erased any doubts he had in mind. Life was hardly ever fair, he thought to himself. If he had to use her in order to destroy his most hated enemy, so be it.
Removing the arms he had around her, Draco tried to snap Hermione out of her stupor. "Hermione," he said softly, "snap out of it." At his words, her eyes suddenly became focused again. She must have realized what had just happened between them, because her eyes suddenly widened in shock. Pulling her arms back from his neck, she backed away from him, as if he was some kind of monster. Somehow, her response irritated him.
"Don't act like I'm about to bite your head off, Hermione. It was just a kiss."
"Well, how do you expect me to react?", she asked incredulously. "I mean, it's not everyday that I share a kiss with an age-old enemy…"
"And what's that supposed to mean?" His voice sounded offended.
"Just forget it, okay Malfoy?" It was obvious that she was trying to change the subject. "And you still haven't answered my question as to why you were at the ball tonight."
Draco was livid now. "For god sakes woman, can't I even go to a stupid ball without you asking me why I'm there? What are you, my mother? If I don't want to tell the reason I was at the ball, then I don't have to!" He knew he was being harsh, but he couldn't help it. Somehow, the knowledge that she still despised him as much as ever affected him more than he thought it would.
"Fine, forget it then." Hermione's voice was suddenly devoid of all emotions. "By the way, your shoulder seems like it stopped bleeding. I think we should be getting on our way." Standing up, she took his floating wand in her hand and extended her arm in an offer to help him up. Ignoring it, Draco got up himself, though a little unsteady. He was still weak from all the blood loss, but he had just enough strength to reach the end of the tunnel.
"Come on," he said, "I'll lead the way."
And together, they journeyed through the dark tunnel. During the rest of the way there, neither spoke a word to the other. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, they reached the end, where there stood a wooden door. Hermione tried to yank it open, but it wouldn't budge. Slightly amused at her helplessness, Draco stepped forward and whispered an incantation. Suddenly, the door bolted wide open, revealing Draco's room. They stepped through the threshold, and almost immediately, the door closed, vanishing into the wall.
With the lights off, Draco's room was almost pitch black. The only light came from the wand in Hermione's hand. Surveying the surroundings of his dark room, Draco suddenly felt an unfamiliar presence in there. In two strides, he was by Hermione's side.
"What's the matter, Draco?" Hermione' s voice sounded slightly anxious.
"We're not alone." As soon as he said this, a loud, high-pitched laugh was heard coming from the corner of the room.
And a figure suddenly emerged from the shadows.
Phew, finally finished the sixth part! I really thought I had no time but it seems that I wedged enough time to write this part. Don't expect the 7th one to come any time soon, because I'll be VERY busy lately. However, I will try my hardest to find time to complete this story, so don't you fret. Ciao! =) (Please R/R and give me more ideas, ppl!)