Hey everyone, it's me again! I know, I haven't been updating this like a good little writer, but between balancing jobs and my social life, I simply did not have time to put up this story. Well here it is, a lovely one for all you darling readers out there! And please, please just review and tell me what you think about it, I need the incentive to keep this story going.
Anyway, this is specially for the ever-lovely Astronema, who read my Haldir ficcy conscientiously and THIS one too without failing to give me reviews! Also specially to shadowofadoubt72 and hurdlingbaybe06 , you guys are the ones who kept me writing, as well as bebop, nittynoodle, gooniebabe, Aiwen, booble, Cranberry_gal, I seriously love you guys!
Fire.
There was fire and darkness all around her. She was running, she could feel it, the breath burning her lungs, her terror, thicker than the veils of blackness surrounding her. Terror sliced through her veins, and she forced herself to turn back, turn to see what she was running from. What she saw almost made her pass out.
It was a large demon thing, full of flame and fury and madness. Large, curled horns protruded from its massive head, and when it roared, an earth-shattering roar, she could see the fiery teeth that gleamed within. Am I in Hell? It sure looked very much like it.
Runrunrunrun!
She could barely make out the figures running all around her, but she was positive that she was not alone. Where was she? What was happening? Then all of a sudden, there was black and silence.
"You cannot PASS!!" An enraged bellow sounded from the unnatural stillness, and she almost jumped. Who had said that? She squinted to see into black hole that had loomed before her, and all she could make out was a tiny but extremely bright light. She heard the monster's enraged bellow. Was the little light hurting it? It was impossible, judging from that thing's size. Fighting down a wave of nausea that threatened to sweep through her, Drusilla concentrated. She had to know what was going on.
Then, a sudden wave of grief and horror overwhelmed her, sending her reeling. It was so pure, so powerful...And it seemed to come from her. Even now, her mind was screaming. Gandalf!!!!
"GANDALF!!" Drusilla bolted awake with a scream, her bedclothes drenched in sweat. Her chest was heaving violently, and her breath was coming in loud wheezes. It took a few moments to realize where she really was. In the pitch blackness of her room, she almost thought that she was still in that hellhole. But no. She glanced around; even in the darkness, she had amazing eyesight and was able to see the interior of her room perfectly well.
It was just a dream, she thought, putting her head in her hands. The sadness, the grief she'd felt still lingered, and she was surprised to feel something hot and wet on her fingers. She was crying. Feeling terribly shaken, she allowed herself a few moments to gather herself. Wiping away at her tears and wondering where the hell those extreme emotions came from and who this thing or person called Gandalf was, she stopped short.
And it came all too clear to her: It was no dream. It was a vision.
A vision in Middle-Earth in her sleep.
But why am I crying? She wondered, frowning. Was she in some way tied to someone there? The visions she'd always had had involved looking through someone's eyes. And the sudden well of emotions was too impossible to be her own. The question was, who the hell was she tied to? Why forge such a bond in the first place? Was this all Sauron's doing? She tightened her hold on her head, trying to get rid of the incessant throbbing that sent blunt pinpricks of pain into her nerves. By Merlin, this was bloody awful. There were so many questions reeling in her pain-filled head, and yet, there was no one around to answer them.
She stared up at the ceiling as she slowly lay back down on the bed, suddenly weary, pulling her covers up to her chin in a child-like effort to maybe protect herself from other bad dreams--visions--she might encounter again tonight. She was sleepy, and this was not helping any. Her last thought, before finally drifting off, mentally and emotionally spent, was: Is Middle-Earth beckoning me?
***
Hermione peered at Drusilla closely, a frown etched on her pretty features. "You look like you ran a marathon the whole of last night."
You don't even know the half of it, Drusilla thought ironically. "You might be half right. I was doing dream running for the most part of last night, and when I finally got sleep, it was time to wake up again after a bloody half hour." She made no effort to stifle a giant yawn this time, exhaling loudly and startling a couple of first years as they walked past.
Hermione looked pointedly at her, but Drusilla ignored it; she knew Hermione hated bad manners in the halls. Especially since she was a Prefect now, of all things. Drusilla had never stopped wondering what had possessed her foster sister to take up that responsibility, but she supposed that it was her inner McGonagall manifesting itself, and left it at that. Truthfully speaking, she seriously did not want to know.
Hermione was the one who spoke next, unable to contain her curiosity. "Dream running? Sounds serious."
"You bet it is," The other girl sighed and hugged herself momentarily. "I was having a vision, and it was really bad. As in the worst ever. And I woke up crying like there was no tomorrow." She looked a little awkward. "And I screamed out something called Gandalf when I woke." She shuddered a little at the memory. "It was so sad, and I felt as if I really knew him. Or it. Or whatever."
"Tell me about it."
"Promise not to laugh and call me stupid?"
"When have I ever done that?"
"Do you want me to answer that, or should I just glare?" There were many times in the past where Drusilla would have very strange dreams, dreams of children who looked slightly like adults and had huge, very furry feet running around green pastures and smoking huge pipes that really stank, and Hermione had just laughed.
This time, she at least had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry, all right? Now can you tell me?" Apparently, her curiosity was killing her.
Drusilla took a deep breath. Here goes. "I was running. Really fast. Then there was something really large and awful coming after me, roaring and thundering, and when I turned to have a look, it was the most horrible creature I'd ever seen." She described the entire dream to her, leaving nothing out.
When she was done, Hermione was quiet. Drusilla could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. "Hmm."
"That's all you can say? 'Hmm'?"
"I'm thinking."
"Unless you're prepared for disappointments, don't think. All those impossible questions reel around in your head and you'll go mad when you realize that there's no answer at all for you." she said grimly. "I've been through that, just last night."
"We have to find out where your dreams are coming from." This time, Hermione looked really concerned.
"This much is true; it all came from Middle-Earth." She'd almost said 'my home', but did not. For all intents and purposes, Middle-Earth had never been, and would never be considered her home. "And trust me, you'll never find anything in those dusty books in the library." She stated once more, seeing the gleam in the other girl's eye. "Not even the wizards in the world know that there is such a place as Middle-Earth."
"Well, Dumbledore does." Hermione pointed out.
"Yes, well, unless he's been there personally before and learned about the people there, I don't think he'll be much help."
She had a point.
"Oh all right," Hermione replied, shaking her head. Drusilla could be strange, sometimes. "Have it your way, then."
Just then, Draco Malfoy and his ever-present cronies Crabbe and Goyle turned a corner and were walking towards them. Despite her current mood, Drusilla felt her heart--considerably light suddenly--skip several beats when she laid eyes on him. He was as handsome was usual, slate gray eyes emotionless--a far cry from the almost-warm, vulnerable ones she'd seen the other night. In fact, seeing him now made her wonder at the astounding change. How could he be one person to her and another person to the rest of the world?
She was glad that Hermione hadn't noticed the sudden colour rushed from all parts of her body to her cheeks. By Merlin, did Draco have to be so handsome and unflappable?
"Oh, great. The ferret and his boneheads." Hermione muttered disgustedly under her breath. "I knew this day was just too good to be true."
When Draco saw Drusilla, he simply looked through her, steadfastly ignoring the fact that his body had automatically clamored to be close to her once more, even as his mind remembered dizzily all the things that had happened the other night. It was so very annoying, yet very pleasant at the same time. Is she blushing? He forced himself to stay cool as they drew closer; it would be disastrous if any of their companions knew what was going on between them.
Drusilla silently wondered how he could stay so composed and so...Malfoy while her heart was almost pounding in her ears. He was so close now, all she had to do was reach out and she could touch him. And yet, he stared through them as if they were not there. His manner, so cold and so faraway, almost made her wonder if the other night was nothing but a dream, but even as he passed by her, barely brushing past the other and each of their companies looking straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the other, she felt his cool hand brush past her own, sending electric tingles up her spine. She remembered how those hands had pulled her roughly to him to taste her lips, to mark her as his...
She felt the dry texture of a small piece of parchment in her hand, and her mouth immediately went as dry as it. He had slipped a note into her hand. Slick.
And he did it all even without acknowledging either of them at all. Even managing to shoot the two of them a look of utmost disdain as they passed. She quickly slipped the note into her pocket, wondering and extremely eager what it was about. On the other hand, she was hoping that it wasn't anything bad. Hermione hadn't seen the movement, of course, as she was gazing after Draco, an expression of bewilderment on her face. "That's strange."
Drusilla swallowed. Surely she didn't know the truth? "What is?"
"Malfoy. He didn't even throw an insult at us this time."
Oh, God. "S-surely it's a good thing? I didn't know you looked forward to him insulting you."
"Of course not! It's just strange, that's all." She cast one more look at their retreating backs, and Drusilla heaved a silent sigh of relief as the other girl turned back and frowned. "Where's Ron? He should be here by now."
***
It was quite awhile before Drusilla finally got some time to herself. Back in her own room now during lunchtime, she heaved a sigh of relief and sat down in front of her plain dresser. Opening the note quickly, she read the neat, loopy characters on the piece of paper. It was in silvery green, and it shimmered in the light.
Drusilla:
Meet me in the Astrology tower tonight. I have to see you.
Drusilla read the note again, wondering what it was all about, and she couldn't help but feel a little twinge of excitement. She was finally going to see him tonight. Although it had been less than forty-eight hours since their last meeting, she really wanted to see him once more. Her heartbeat quickened at the fact that in less than six hours, she was going to meet him again. Somehow, a part of her wished that they could be like normal couples in Hogwarts, where their relationships were no secret, but still. It thrilled her, knowing that theirs was a forbidden love. It made her feel reckless, somehow.
She neatly folded the note back and slipped it into a little carved wooden box that sat on her dresser. She would keep this. Just then, a tawny brown school owl swooped silently in through the window, almost startling her, and dropped something on her lap before swooping out again, not even pausing for a treat, which was very odd.
Surprised, she looked down at her lap to see that the bird had left a white rose for her. Just like that, a pure white rose, no notes, no mention where it was from. The stalk was surprisingly smooth, with only the mild scars on it to show where the thorns used to be. The petals were, each of them, perfect and milky white and incredibly soft to the touch. The beautiful rose filled the entire room with a sweet smell, and she smiled, despite herself. It was perfect.
Of course. Draco.
Her smile widened. How had he known that at that exact time she was in her room? And despite the simplicity of the flower, she thought it the most exquisite gift she'd ever received.
***
She could stay calm no longer. "And that is what I fucking saw!"
Pansy leapt up from her seat, clearly in a rage. "How dare he? They were swallowing each other's tonsils in the middle of the Slytherin passageway! I can't believe that Draco dumped me for her. For that bitch! For that dumb bitch!" Her face contorted in fury as her eyes glittered strangely. "That fucking bitch! I'm going to get her one day!"
Blaise Zabini reclined in his couch lazily, barely batting an eyelid. He was bored. Parkinson had been going on and on about the same crap ever since he'd entered the common room, and for the millionth time, he wondered why he even bothered listening to her in the first place. Running a hand through his ebony hair, he shrugged. "Whatever, Parkinson."
Pansy glared at him, feeling more incensed than ever. Since when did Zabini get off dismissing her like that? Since forever, that's when. Her mind replied. Blaise Zabini did things as he wished and went where he liked. And having exceedingly good looks had helped alot. Blaise was a nice mix of Asian and British, his mother having been Asian. The way his dark hair fell over his forehead carelessly had always been a hot point for all the girls he'd brought to bed. In most ways, he was like Draco; his innocent, perfect looks belied a dangerous nature.
Maybe that was why the two of them were best friends.
Birds of a feather flock together, she thought disdainfully, but she couldn't help but be taken in by Blaise at the same time. True, he could never quite match up to Ice Prince of Slytherin Draco Malfoy, but he was close.
"Don't look at me like that, Parkinson." Blaise said shortly. "I don't do sluts."
The insult should have stung, but Pansy had her mind on other things. More important things. "I should get rid of her," she mused aloud, going through all the ways to kill a person in Hogwarts without Dumbo knowing all about it.
"You think?" Blaise asked, his dark eyes glinting with cold amusement. "You don't even know how to master a hex properly, much less kill someone with it."
"There are many other ways to kill a person, Zabini," Pansy began smoothly, then threw herself down onto the couch. "I DON'T CARE! I want my Drakie back! I want him to fuck my brains out like he did last time!"
"God," Blaise made a disgusted face and got off the cushion at once. "Shut your big gob, Pansy. All you care about are dicks."
Pansy leered. "Why? You have a problem with that? Draco's happens to be the best one I've ever had." She looked meaningfully at him and raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "Unless you want me to do yours?"
"I'd rather let a Hippogriff do me." he sneered. "No wonder Draco dumped you like a hot potato. Anyone would." With that, he strode out of the room. He had much better things to do.
***
"Hey, Harry!" Drusilla flounced into his room with a broad smile on her face. Harry stared at her in surprise. Not that he wasn't glad to see her, but girls, as a general rule, were not allowed into boys' rooms. Especially not when he was about to go to sleep. She seemed to be very happy about something, though, and he wondered what it was. It had to be important, for her to enter his room at this time of night.
Kicking back the covers and getting quickly to his feet, he was only vaguely aware of the worn pajamas he was wearing, and Drusilla didn't seem to notice his state of dress-- or undress, for that matter--at all.
"What is it, Dru?" He asked, noting that she looked even more beautiful than usual. She was smiling, and Harry thought that she had the most beautiful smile ever. He always had, and would always think so.
"I need you to lend me your Invisibility Cloak," she said, lowering her voice a little so that no one outside the door heard.
"Sure. What for?" He moved over to his chest to retrieve his cloak without hesitation.
She shuffled a little, looking mildly uncomfortable for a moment. "I uh, I need to head down to the kitchens. To eat. Because I'm hungry." she inwardly winced at how choppy it sounded. Harry was bound to suspect something. As if she hadn't felt horrible enough lying to her best friend already. "And I can't risk Filch catching me. You know him." she forced a laugh, feeling worse than ever when Harry handed the cloak to her with a trusting grin.
"All right. Here you go. Just remember to pass it back to me tomorrow."
"O-okay, thanks. Alot." She reached out and took the cloak gratefully, flashing another smile at him and sending his heart skipping. "You have no idea how much I owe you."
"Think nothing of it," he said sincerely. "Go on, then. You must be famished."
"Oh. Right. Thanks once again, Harry." She headed back for the door. "Sorry for disturbing you, though."
"It's quite all right, really." In fact, it's more than all right, he thought wistfully. "You're welcome to barge in anytime."
"You're a great person, you know that?" Drusilla stood just at his door and turned to look at him. "Good night."
"Good night, Dru." He replied warmly, and even as he watched her leave with a bittersweet pang that shot through him, he succumbed to a sudden, irrational urge to tell her how he felt about her. She looked so beautiful tonight. Doesn't she always? "Dru?"
She turned again. "Yes?"
But seeing her faintly expectant look, he felt himself chickening out again, cursing himself for thinking of such a stupid idea in the first place. "Oh. No. I-it's nothing." He couldn't tell her. He didn't dare to.
Especially when he inwardly knew that she treated him as her best friend, nothing more.
Drusilla shook her head and laughed softly, apparently misreading his reaction. "Don't worry, I'll bring back your cloak safe and undamaged to you in the morning. I owe you this much at least."
He nodded silently, unable to trust himself to speak. She's so lovely, with a lovely character, too.
But then again, so what if he was just her best friend? It was better than nothing, and he could hope that it would grow into something more for her someday.
Someday.
***
Drusilla moved swiftly along the empty passageway, her footsteps leaving no sound on the ground. She was getting much better at creeping past corridors, she realized. Maybe it was part of being an Elf thing. Clutching the cloak close to her and hoping that Mrs. Norris or the cantankerous Filch wasn't anywhere nearby and would accidentally bump into her or something, she headed towards the Astronomy tower, unable to contain the excitement that was rising slowly within her. She was finally able to be with Draco at last, if only for an hour or two, at most.
She was mulling on this when something seemed to brush past her. It was the softest of touches, like the rustle of cloth on skin as it brushed slightly across the cloak she was wearing, but it was over just as quickly, and Drusilla had been so deep in her thoughts that she wondered if it was just her imagination. A quick look around yielded nothing, and she was convinced that it was just the wind.
Thinking nothing more about it, she moved on quietly.
***
When she reached, however, there was no one there, save for the brilliant light of the moon that spilled its beams onto the smooth floor. Drusilla was casually slipping out of the Invisibility Cloak and making doubly sure that it wasn't in any way damaged when soft footsteps sounded out of the shadows. She stiffened for a moment, wondering if it was Filch, then relaxed a little after a while. The footsteps were too light to be his.
It was Draco.
He stepped quietly out of the shadow, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his cool gray eyes unreadable in the moonlight. His platinum hair shone starkly, and he looked almost otherworldly as he stepped towards her, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Nice cloak." He drawled, glancing at what she was holding. He looked even more wonderful up close. "Does the speccy git know you're here?"
Despite herself, Drusilla stiffened, feeling a little annoyed. What was it with him that he'd hated Harry so much? "Harry's my good friend."
"That doesn't make me like him any better." Something unreadable flashed in his eyes for a moment, then it was gone. He leaned against the pillar casually, trying not to think about how sexy she looked even in that plain dressing gown.
Drusilla crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you ask me to come here just so that you can pick a fight with me? And no, he doesn't know."
He ignored her question, and a smirk tugged at his lips. "Ah, I suppose you lied to him." Because of me. She lied to the Harry bloody Potter for me. The thought was stupid, really, but it gave him a strange sense of triumph.
"If you'll excuse me, I feel awful enough already." She muttered, shifting from foot to foot and looking guilty. A flash of jealousy welled up within Draco when he saw her expression. Drusilla obviously cared a lot for the git to feel bad about a little lie. How much does she care for him, really?
He decided that he didn't really want to know the answer, frustrated that he himself cared enough to even be jealous. It was a new emotion for him, and it galled him that he didn't know how to react to it.
Draco suddenly moved over and gripped her wrist tightly. "Don't talk to me about how you feel about Harry bloody Potter when we're together."
Stunned momentarily by his sudden, unexpected action, she looked up at him blankly. His grip was so painful. "What do you mean? And let go of me, you're hurting me."
He let go immediately, but he stood glaring at her. Drusilla looked more mystified than ever. What was he going on about? "I told you, Harry's only my good friend." She peered at him, looking slightly amused. "What, are you jealous?"
Yes. "Of course not. Why would I be jealous of him?" he sneered. It was a lie, of course, but he certainly did not want to admit it, even to himself.
"I don't know. You tell me." She looked at him curiously. "You're the one who gets all worked up when I talk about Harry."
She was right. He hated it, but she was right. Why did she have to be so infuriatingly astute? For a moment, Draco wondered what had possessed him to even get together with her, but even as he thought so, his answer came swiftly to him the moment he looked down at her. The moonlight cast shadows on her face, making it look even more exquisite, and the smile tugging at her lips made him gaze at them hungrily. It had been a long time since he'd kissed her, he noted.
Deciding that words were definitely not needed this time, he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately, reveling in the welcome warmth of her mouth. She tasted as sweet as ever, and his kisses grew more demanding, plundering her mouth with a sweet vengeance even as she yielded to him at last, her kisses matching his one for one. And despite himself, he knew that he was lost within her arms, all he felt was her touch, burning him and searing at the wall of ice in his heart. God, did she know what she was doing to him? All the same, he decided that he didn't really care.
He wanted—no, needed—her.
All of her. Her body, her heart, her mind. He wanted her to be his. Only his. She was the only person who could make him feel so happy and angry at the same time, whose love slowly began to matter to him, because somewhere, somewhere, he understood that this was much more than lust. It was something that ran deeper, but he had yet to properly understand it.
He held her tighter, enough to bruise her, but she made no complaint. Her arms tightened around him, and his lips left hers to trail down her chin and her neck. Her skin was smooth as silk, and it inflamed his senses. Planting a soft kiss and nip at the base of her neck, he could feel the material of her gown, rough in comparison to the satiny feel of her skin.
Suddenly feeling the urge to explore more of her, his lips lingered at her neck as his fingers began to unbutton the material. She made no move to stop him, and he continued.
The first button, then the second. The pearly fairness of her skin seduced him, and as he unbuttoned the third, his breath got caught in his throat. He had seen many breasts in his time as playboy before, but none of them were this perfect. She wore a bra, of course, but it only served to make them more tempting. Her chest was heaving, and a pink flush stole across her skin.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured as his lips moved up to kiss her deeply once more, his fingers coaxing a plump breast out of the cotton holder. Her soft moan at the feeling almost undid him, and he kissed her once more, passionate in his urgency. His fingers stroked at her nipple, relishing how quickly it turned hard at his touch.
Then she stopped him. Literally did. Gently, she caught his hand and pushed it down gently. The rebuff was tender, and he was surprised to find that he did not mind. He moved slightly away from her, looking surprised. She smiled and shook her head, expertly buttoning up her gown.
"Not yet, Draco." She whispered.
"Of course." He lowered his head to hers and claimed her mouth once more.
***
Neither of them noticed the figure, standing barely ten meters from them. The figure, cloaked similarly in an Invisibility cloak, had come in time to find the two of them making out. The figure had watched them for a long while now, listening in to the hushed conversation and secretly making plans. Fury once again bubbled to the surface, and the figure struggled to keep them down. Now was surely not the time. No, not now. The figure had almost risked being found out when it had seemed to brush past invisible Drusilla earlier, and it was relieved that she'd not suspected a thing.
It stood there, calculating its next move. There was no time for fruitless anger now. It was time to plot revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.
Sorry, Draco, it thought, staring coldly at the two of them. I didn't want to, at first. But now you leave me no choice.
It smiled as the all too familiar red mark burned into its skin tingled ever so slightly. Yes, there was much it had to do.
Turning, it left. Hopefully, there would still be an owl awake at this time.
***
The stars were extremely beautiful tonight. Draco and Drusilla lounged carelessly on the parapet of the Tower, with Draco keeping a discreet eye on her to ensure that she would not topple off suddenly, since it was a long way down, after all. All was peaceful and silent, and even Filch behaved himself by staying around his office, which was on the other side of the school.
Aware of the passage of time and that he had to leave very soon, he studied her profile silently as she looked up at the stars, the moon casting its full glow on her, look like an angel.
He was suddenly reminded of when he'd watched her sleep in the Hospital Wing just a week ago. Strange how it seemed so faraway now. For a few moments, he simply wanted time to stop, so he could just stay here with her forever, just watching her, no pretenses, no need to descend into the dark bubble he'd grown up in and had known all his life. This was one of the rare times when shadows of his father had not haunted his thoughts. It was all so refreshing when he found that he could just throw that burden—the burden of striving not to be anything like his father—away and just concentrate on Drusilla. She had that peaceful quality about her, something that assured him that with her around, everything would be fine. Of course he would not tell her that. Not yet, anyway. Their relationship—or whatever it was now—had just begun, and everything was still shaky. And there was that fact that they weren't supposed to be involved with each other in the first place.
Everything was so complicated. But in the midst of it all, this was the simplest. Just him and her. The intensity of his feelings for her scared him, but it seemed to pull him closer to her at the same time.
"Nice night, isn't it?" she said softly, her words a whisper in the soft breeze.
Draco nodded. He'd always loved the night since he was a child as it was the only time that he would feel safe from his father, and there was something special about sitting with Drusilla right now in the silence of the Astronomy Tower, sharing the beauty of the stars with her.
"It's getting late." He said finally, drawing her attention. "We have to leave very soon."
Beside him, she sighed, and nodded. "You're right."
"Are you going down to Hogsmeade later?"
"Yes, why?"
Realizing how stupid his question sounded: What was he expecting, a date where everyone in Hogwarts could see them? He shook his head. It was just not possible. "Nothing."
It was strange how he had to creep around with a girl in the late hours of the night and whom he couldn't see as and when he liked. Most of the girls he had hung on his elbow whenever he went; there were no secrets. The feeling of strangeness was compounded further when he realized that he genuinely wanted to see her as much as he possibly could. How ironic, he thought sardonically. I have to fall for a girl that I can't have.
He got up and held out his hand to her. "It's time. Let's get back."
***
Even as Drusilla entered her room, she caught sight of the school owl perched there, clearly having delivered a message and was looking for a treat. Smiling to herself she reached into a drawer and took out an Owl Treat. The owl hooted softly in thanks and flew off. She glanced down to see what it had left behind, and was pleasantly surprised to see another white rose lying on the able, perfect in its pale beauty.
Two roses in a day, she mused, lifting the exquisite flower to her nose and inhaled its wonderful scent. I always knew Draco Malfoy had a romantic streak in him.
Content, she placed the rose into a vase and admired it for a moment before turning to her bed, barely noticing that on the Quidditch pitch directly below, someone else was watching her every move.
***
"We've only got two minutes before I've got to join my friends later," Drusilla managed to whisper raggedly as she adjusted herself so Draco could kiss her again. It was no mean feat, given the size of the horrid broom closet—but it was the only option, since there were no empty classrooms available—and there was the fact that if it had not been for Draco putting a locking spell on the doorknob of the closet, chances were they'd be found out in no time.
After all, the broom closet was very popular with the couples in Hogwarts.
Her lover growled softly under his breath as he trailed hot kisses down the side of her neck, his slender fingers caressing and gentle but insistent, catching slightly on the folds of her uniform. "Skip the stupid trip to Hogsmeade, then. All I feel like doing is to keep kissing you."
A delicious trickle of excitement rushed through her, coupled by the thrill and pleasure of kissing him almost made her want to succumb to his request. But the more sensible—realistic part of her railed at the very idea. She hated to let him down, but if she continued staying here, people were bound to get suspicious. She, like him, couldn't risk being found out, because so much was at stake here. Her friends, Gryffindor, his own circle of people he called friends, his House…
"I can't," she replied as soon as he allowed her to catch her breath. She fought to stay focused on what she was about to say—he was nipping softly at her ear, very distracting and pleasuring, that. "You know I can't, Draco. And besides, you ditched Crabbe and Goyle. It's unheard of in Hogwarts."
"It's worth it," he flashed her a wicked smirk before pulling back a little and resting both hands possessively on her waist, obviously marking her as his. "Did you know how much you've tempted me this morning?"
She knew. He barely took his eyes off her in the Great Hall early this morning, she caught him looking over at her on more than a few occasions. And just for the heck of it, he would purposely brush past her, apparently enjoying her look of surprise as his skin brushed against hers in a supposed innocuous way.
"That's the whole point, isn't it?" she murmured absently, wishing that she could simply stay in here, in this moment, where she wouldn't have to eventually go out and face the world again. It was so simple here, just two people in love with each other, with no seemingly horrendous backlashes from the people around.
She wished that it would forever stay this way, only the two of them, where nothing could ever come between them, where nothing mattered save for each other…
He gently stroked the side of her cheek, his cool gray eyes watching her carefully. Ever since his confession that he loved her the other night, he had been feeling a whole lot of really pleasant, wonderful feelings that he couldn't possibly begin to put into words, especially when she was around, but he, too, had this urge not to release her from his grip ever, for fear that she might slip away from him and never return.
I will never let her go, he promised himself, his grip on her waist unconsciously tightening. She would always be his. His own.
He only hoped that her feelings for him were true.
"What are you thinking of?" he questioned, searching her beautiful chocolate brown eyes for an answer. They shimmered with an almost otherworldly light, and he was reminded once again that she was no ordinary human. A gentle glow seemed to radiate around her, made evident by the darkness of the broom closet, making her seem like a being from the heavens.
Maybe she is, he thought, wondering how she could ever love a person like him.
Her wistful expression slipped away, and she smiled up at him. "Come on, we really have to go, or they'll start getting suspicious."
Knowing that she had a point, he reluctantly released her and magically uncharmed the door, not wanting to think about the momentary flare of intense jealousy when he thought about Potty being so close to her the whole day. "I'll come a little later."
"Are you going to Hogsmeade, too?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes. Perhaps I'll be at the Three Broomsticks."
"Is this your idea of asking me out on a date, Draco Malfoy?" she baited teasingly.
"You know we can't have a date there. But that doesn't mean I can't see you. But I'll figure something out."
She smiled, and he caught the quiet suggestion there. "At three?"
"At three." He promised, tucking his wand back into his robes and giving her his best mock-glare. "Go on now, before I give in to my hormones and never let you out of this closet."
She was about to open the door when he caught her hand and said, "Wait. Let me kiss you again."
Drusilla put a finger to his lips and shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "We both know that if I do that, none of us will be leaving this place in a hurry. See you, Draco."
She grinned at him and made off down the corridor, leaving Draco with a strangely cold and empty feeling in his stomach in her wake, as if she was the only one who carried the flame of life into his world, and that when she left, all that was remaining was darkness.
A bittersweet ache echoed in his heart as he stood in the closet for a long while, mulling over the sudden influx of totally unfamiliar feelings and emotions, and wondering if they could keep their forbidden love a secret forever.
It was all so wrong, all this. But why did it seem like the sweetest, most right thing to do in the world?
****
"Here you are!" Hermione admonished, looking flustered. "Where have you been all morning? We've been trying to find you!"
Uh oh. What was she supposed to say? Drusilla paused for a short moment, thinking fast. "I uh, was up in my dorm, getting some stuff down." She said vaguely, deciding that she would be damned if any of them asked what she was taking.
To her immense relief, Filch came rambling out at that moment, muttering under his breath about darned students and checking the students thoroughly to ensure that no stragglers were coming along.
"I've got to make a trip to Zonko's," Ron was saying eagerly, his freckly but handsome face glowing in excitement. "I've heard from Fred and George that they've got Exploding Chocolates!"
"Brilliant!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I've always wanted to try one of those. Are they any good?"
"You bet! Neville accidentally tried it once and it exploded in his mouth. He almost choked on the chocolate, though. Went down too fast, I suppose." He looked extremely amused at that.
Hermione looked grossed out and shook her curls impatiently. "Are there any shops you go to except for Zonko's?"
"Oh, come on, 'Mione, be a sport. It's not that often that we are free of homework!"
Hermione gave him a look that reminded all of them of McGonagall when she was mad about something. "And that is supposed to be good? How could we possibly learn all the lessons then if we have no homework?"
"You don't have to, 'Mione," Harry said seriously, his eyes sparkling. "You're already the top girl in the class. Not even Malfoy can throw you off."
Malfoy. Drusilla resisted a delicious little shudder when she heard his name, and immediately, the precious few moments they spent kissing came flooding back to her. Merlin, he was a fantastic kisser. Automatically, she tiptoed and craned her neck—trying not to look too obvious about it at the same time—and tried to locate him. For some strange reason, she felt a rather intense urge to just see him once more.
It was quite awhile before she could do it, but then she finally located him standing near a knot of Slytherins. His old manner was back, and the Draco she had seen earlier when they were alone was totally gone. He was the same old Draco, arrogant and derisive and wondrously unreachable. Fleetingly, she couldn't help but wonder if the Draco earlier was simply a façade he put up just for her, then snuffed it away just as quickly.
The easy way he slipped from caring Draco to the old Draco Malfoy was a little disturbing, but she shook her head. What was she even thinking about? She too was trying to keep up an image, that she hated Draco's guts, that she was not going out with anyone and definitely not in love with the most stunning boy in all of Hogwarts. But still, it was all so strange. She knew, by looking at all the other girls with their boyfriends, that she could not possibly dream for a normal relationship with someone like him. But she could always hope, couldn't she? It always seemed as if he'd been hiding many things about himself from her, but she supposed again that maybe he'd tell her when the time was right.
Would he? She did not even know whether their relationship could have any end. A Malfoy and her?
Technically, it bordered close to being ultimately impossible. Even after Voldemort's death, she still felt a certain distance wedging in between her and Draco.
After all, evil would never be truly gone…would it?
Her heart skipped a beat as she came to a realization, would Draco follow in his father's footsteps? Would he try to raise Voldemort? It occurred to her then that she didn't know much about his family background and him, in general, like what he liked and disliked, what made him angry or happy, all that. So what exactly was she doing? Why was she still so in love with him?
She jumped out of her thoughts as she felt a gentle warm hand lay on her shoulder. She looked up, startled, and saw Harry's concerned eyes bearing down on hers. "Are you all right, Dru? You look a little out of it."
Recovering nicely, she cleared her throat and nodded, trying hard not to avert her gaze and hoping that somehow, Draco was watching her or something. "I-I'm fine," she said honestly. "Just a little…tired, I guess."
He looked at her closely for a moment, not quite believing her tale, but then, to his credit, he simply nodded and flashed her a charmingly boyish smile, the shadows that had always lingered in his eyes were gone. "Well, don't be too tired," he said jovially. "You're going to be stuck with me after the trip to Zonko's. Ten Galleons Ron will go off somewhere with Hermione after that."
She forced her thoughts away from Draco and mustered a wry smile at her friend. "I don't have that much Galleons, you know."
***
The trip to Zonko's was an uneventful one, with Drusilla purchasing a few of the candy coated quills that were meant to be sucked on in class and a little bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Harry had insisted on getting her a bag of those sweet little red and white lollipops that she couldn't afford but really fancied. She'd declined, but he'd bought it for her all the same when she wasn't looking and slipped it into her bag. So there was nothing she could do save for accept it.
Hermione bought nothing, but Ron looked like he was having the time of his life, buying a lot of all the trick sweets he could see—the Weasley's were no longer poor, they'd struck it really rich back in the summer hols—and generally annoying his girlfriend (Brilliant! They have Snowball Imps! Want one, 'Mione? These Melting Gummies look delicious!). As predicted, it wasn't long before the two made really embarrassed and hasty exits, saying something about wanting to check out other places and suggesting that they split up so that she and Harry could actually have a chance to see what they wanted to see too.
It did not take a genius to see through them, though.
"All right then," Harry smirked, flashing her a secret smile as the pair looked for all the world like guilty people. "Enjoy yourselves and all that."
Ron brightened, waved goodbye and said that they would meet up later for the Feast, then took Hermione's hand and set off in the opposite direction, where Drusilla was positive that no attractions of Hogsmeade were, despite what they said about it.
Harry and Drusilla were alone again as usual, and the two quietly set off, walking. Harry was usually very quiet, and occasionally, she could see the flitting shadows of the pain and hurt that the horrors of the rather short war with Voldemort and his supporters had still haunted him. It had almost been a year now, and most things had already gone back to what they were before—or rather close to, at least—but she knew that Harry had suffered the most, blaming himself for all the friends that had been lost. The most haunting one had been the first death Harry had witnessed at Voldemort's hand when the Dark Wizard first rose.
Cedric Diggory.
She'd never really known Cedric, much less spoken to him at all, but she knew from talk that he was pretty much a decent chap—and in her opinion—the one person who did not deserve death at all. His death had been one that Harry could never forget, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. Drusilla could see the dark shadow in his eyes everytime he lay eyes on the Hufflepuff crest. She, like Ron and Hermione, knew how much it hurt him, but it was immensely frustrating for them because none of them really knew what to do or say to help him get over it, simply because they did not know exactly what he was feeling and thinking.
But Dumbledore had already counseled them to give him time, because—according to him, time was the only healer for Harry's heart.
She hoped he was right about this.
Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she walked silently beside him, secretly marveling at his capacity to really care for his friends and find time for them after all he'd been through. Ginny really had good taste; she would not go wrong being with him. The only problem was to get him to be with her first.
"I wish Ginny could be here," she spoke before knowing that she even did. Harry glanced at her in surprise, shaken out of his thoughts at the mention of her name.
"Why?"
How to go about this? "She likes you a lot, you know." She pointed out delicately. "And she's done more for you than anyone."
Harry frowned and looked at her closely. "Are you trying to bring us together?"
Busted. Absently, she wished that she had Hermione's subtle flair instead of fumbling around clumsily. "Am I that obvious?"
He shook his head and sighed. "It's no use, Dru. I don't like her that way. And besides, I've, uh, I've already got someone I really fancy."
"Really?" she perked up, wanting to know who the lucky girl was. "Who is it? Anyone I know? Let me guess, Padma Patil? Lavender Brown? Or Natasha Henstridge?" She paused for a moment, thinking hard. "She's really decent, you know."
He turned crimson and looked at her for a long moment. For a second, she could see disappointment flicker across his eyes, then it was gone. "No. Not Padma or any of the above."
"Then who is it?" She pressed, eager to know. "You can tell me, you know."
He sighed and watched her face, searching for any sign and feeling the all-too-familiar feeling of heartache weigh heavily upon him like a ton of bricks. After all the subtle hints and what he'd done for her, she still couldn't get it? "Can't you feel it, Dru?"
She looked blankly at him. "Feel what?"
He made an impatient snort and turned away, hoping that she did not see his face burning. It was no use. "Nevermind. Leave the subject, please. I don't feel like talking about it."
Still a little miffed by his words, she nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry." Maybe he was a little touchy about the girl he fancied and didn't want to tell her who it was yet. Well, that was all right with her, considering that she herself was in love with the most unlikely boy in Hogwarts.
"Hey," she said finally, breaking the silence between the two of them once more. "Are you in the mood for a mug of Butterbeer?" she grinned and jingled the coins in her pocket. "My treat this time."
He brightened a little, to her relief. "Sure, why not?"
***
"Drakie, wait up, please!"
Draco stifled a groan at the all-too-familiar whine, and out of habit, stopped to allow Pansy to catch up with him. After all, she was supposed to be his girlfriend. To the public, anyway. It had been fun, but that was before. Before Drusilla. Now, he simply couldn't picture being with Pansy any longer than absolutely necessary.
And, since his cronies, Zabini, and his other "friends" were with him, it would be highly suspicious for him to throw her off again, considering that he practically dumped Crabbe and Goyle for the whole of this morning. And apparently, Pansy's passion for him hadn't ceased when he threw her ungraciously out of his room. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten it totally.
Pansy threw herself into his arms and gave him a long, passionate kiss. In front of everyone. "Baby! I've missed you!"
"Some people have things to do, you know." He told her pointedly, letting her hang onto his arm and noting that Goyle was leering at her. Hell, who wouldn't? She'd changed from the boring school robes into a plunging tank top and an altogether too-short micro-miniskirt that showed off her entire figure and then some, theorizing that being seen in Hogwarts uniform while they were outside was just too gaudy. She was the only one, however. The rest of the Slytherins just couldn't be bothered to change, and then change back again when it was time to go back.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again. "Aren't you supposed to be off with your friends or something?"
"I decided to spend today with you, Drakie," she cooed, shooting the rest of them a meaningful look. "Alone, just the two of us."
"Go ahead, Draco." Zabini said casually, taking the hint and motioning the rest of them along. "See you at school."
Even his friend, the only one he could almost count on out of all of them, was ditching him. Draco resisted a sigh and braced himself for a whole afternoon of Pansy's intolerable whining.
"Good," Pansy smiled, pleased. "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks to get Butterbeer, shall we? I'm freezing out here. Then maybe we could get rid of the chill together." She leered at him suggestively and wiggled her hips, leading him away from them. He fought down a swell of disappointment. There went his chance to see Drusilla again later, but then again, appearances mattered, after all. If he kept rejecting Pansy, she would know that something was very wrong, and his secret with Drusilla would not be secret anymore.
***
Drusilla took off her coat as soon as they found a little booth for themselves, content to be warm once more. The weather outside had gotten chillier and chillier, and though the cold had not gotten to her like it did to most people, she still liked the feeling of being snug and warm rather than walking around outside.
Harry plopped himself down opposite her and glanced around. "Sure is crowded today, isn't it?" He could just make out the two—obviously new—assistants rushing around serving drinks and food. Nevertheless, the atmosphere inside here was wonderful and almost homey. "I know Christmas is a few months away, but I'm rather inclined to think that in here, it's simply just a few hours away."
Drusilla laughed. "That's a good one. I'm rather inclined to think that you've gotten unnecessarily introspective out in the cold. Three Broomsticks is no different than the other days."
"It must be the weather. Would you like anything else to eat or something? I'll order."
"I suppose a Butterbeer and a tuna sandwich would have to do. And don't go getting any ideas, I'm paying." She cast him a mock-glare from her table that made him chuckle.
"Whatever you say, Dru." He moved towards the bar at the middle of the room, and was glad to see that even when it was packed, he was still able to get around without bumping into people too much. A light feeling rose in his chest, and he couldn't help but think that this was sort of like a date. A quiet meal, just the two of them. It was good.
Very good.
Unable to keep a smile off his face, he greeted Madam Rosmerta—who was busy conjuring up more glasses of Butterbeer and lining them up so her assistants would have a better time of swiping them off the table to give to the customers.
"Why, hello, Harry." Rosmerta broke into a large grin when she saw Harry. She'd always had had a soft spot for him. "Long time no see, young man. My, you grow more handsome with each passing day."
"You too, Madam Rosmerta," he nodded politely to her and flashed her a shy smile. "Can I have two mugs of Butterbeer, a tuna sandwich and a beef sandwich please?"
"Ah," her shrewd eyes perked up slightly. "You're here with your girlfriend?"
"With Drusilla." He informed her with a shrug. "I haven't exactly found a girlfriend yet."
"Well, take your pick, almost every girl wants to be your significant other."
I've already got one in mind, thank you, he thought. Problem is that she obviously only sees me as a friend.
"Thanks," he said warmly nonetheless as he received the food and drinks on a tray.
"Enjoy your meal," she called out, then busied herself once more.
****
"This place is so bloody crowded," Draco snapped irritably, following Pansy into the Three Broomsticks. Why did it have to be so crowded now, of all things? He hated going to places where too many people were around, especially with Pansy, since she never failed to make it a smug point to all of anyone who was noticing that she was his girlfriend. He found it decidedly childish and annoying, but never bothered to say anything about it.
Pansy stopped and clung onto his arm, giving his cheek a kiss as she did so. "It's to get warm, Drakie," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, then batted her eyelashes at him. "Or did you have other things in mind, hmm?"
He would stick with the Three Broomsticks any day.
There, he finally located an empty table, and Pansy pounced on it like a hawk. It was placed a little away from common view, and he supposed that that was good, but most probably not for Pansy, since she had always liked to flaunt her relationship with him in public. Not to mention in the most embarrassing way possible.
"Sit down," he instructed her. "I'll get the drinks."
***
"You won't believe what Pansy Parkinson is wearing in this weather." Harry commented casually. Drusilla, curious at his remark, turned to look. And true to his word, she only seemed to be clad in the smallest midriff known to mankind, and an almost non-existent skirt that was made to catch the attention of everyone, which it obviously did.
"Maybe she's immune to the cold," she remarked, looking away as soon as Pansy, who was facing her, sent her a dirty glare. It was common knowledge that Pansy Parkinson especially hated Drusilla's guts, so there was no surprise there, and she resumed eating her sandwich, but then something in her mind tugged at her to look back again.
Which she did, but had immediately regretted.
Pansy was in a passionate lip-lock with Draco. Yes, it was Draco, she could never have mistaken him anywhere, the gelled hair, the strong, lean back…
She stared, even as a knife of pain slowly edged its way into her heart, sharp and cutting as the moments passed. Was he reciprocating? He seemed to be enjoying it. Pansy's hands were all over him, roaming, roaming…
How could he do this to her?
She furiously blinked back a sudden tide of tears that sprang into her eyes as she managed to tear her gaze away, unable to hide the ugly fact that Pansy was his official girlfriend, and that it was their right to do so—But if she'd done so a few moments later, she could've seen Draco pushing her away disgustedly. But no, Fate had her little ways.
Was all they had—whatever it was—a game to him?
He'd never even said he loved me, she thought, and suddenly, her world came crashing down around her. Pansy was his girlfriend; she was not. Did she even have a right to get angry at him?
Maybe it's all an act, she thought to herself, trying to numb the sudden sharp pain that rose within her. And suddenly, she didn't feel like eating anymore, the tuna sandwich she'd eaten feeling like lead in her stomach.
Pansy's kissing Draco. The very thought was hell. Pansy's kissing Draco.
She slumped back, feeling as if she'd just had an iron fist through her gut. Harry looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right, Dru?"
She was silent for a long while, then she seemed to come to, grabbing her coat. It was too painful to stay here any longer. "I need to get out of here, Harry," her voice was strangely thin, and she looked to be on the verge of breaking down in tears, but she held it in. She held everything in, no matter how stupid she felt now, and without waiting for Harry, she ran for the door, eager to put lots of space between her and the place.
Draco had wanted to see her here, but instead, he came to make out with Pansy Parkinson for all the world to see.
And despite being only two tables away, Draco did not see a thing.
***
Draco glared at Pansy, feeling suitably peeved. She'd grabbed him suddenly when he was back with the drinks—nearly knocking them over—and clamped her lips onto his. At first, he was too shocked to respond, then he fought against her almost-desperate grip, pushing her roughly back into her chair. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Parkinson?" he snapped, irritated. This was a public place, for Heaven's sake!
"I just wanted a kiss, Drakie," she pouted prettily. "Don't be so mean. And besides, maybe you should know something." Her smile grew wider and turned cold. "Your sweetheart had just run off with Potty after our make-out session."
"Swee—"She knows, he realized. Pansy knew. His eyes narrowed. She'd known all along, and that earlier kiss was only to put Drusilla off. So Drusilla was here.
Oh, fuck.
He glared at the bitch sitting insolently before him, batting her eyelashes innocently. "Don't look at me like that, Drakie."
"You fucking bitch," he spat, getting to his feet once more, cold fury in his winter gray eyes as horrible dread rose in his stomach. "You made it look like we were making out." With Drusilla watching every moment of it.
She preened, obviously very pleased with herself. "Aren't I smart?"
Draco's fingers itched for his wand. He was just about to kill her; he didn't give a damn whether performing the killing curse would land him in Azkaban or not. He just wanted to get rid of this irritating slut once and for all.
She smiled coldly once more, leaning forward. "You're going to have to be nice to me in the future, darling. If I'm unhappy, I just might let slip that you're seeing Drusilla. And you might just see your pretty little girlfriend's face being cut in so many little pieces." Her tone was deliberately innocent, and it grated on his nerves. But once he heard the threat on Drusilla's life, everything seemed to freeze up.
"Hurt a single hair on her head and I will kill you."
"Oh, will you?"
Draco leaned backward casually, his face set in a sneering smile, although inside he was furious. Furious that this stupid bitch would go so far as to endanger Drusilla's life and to blackmail him with it.
No one ever blackmailed Malfoys.
"Don't forget, Pansy." He said evenly, matching her stare with one of his deadliest ones. It satisfied him that he saw of flicker of apprehension in her own eyes now. Stupid cow never knew how to properly blackmail anyone before. "I'm a Malfoy. Even without the old man around, most people don't go all out of their way to cross me. They know what I can do."
"You won't do it to me," she said confidently. "You can't. Not when Dumbledore's around."
This time, he laughed out loud. "Tsk tsk, Pansy. You're a Slytherin. You should know me better than that. Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, you know I can make life very, very difficult for you in Hogwarts, and no one will know it's me. No one will believe you." His voice was smooth, but there was an underlying knife of danger beneath his words. Pansy, for a moment, began to understand why the name Malfoy was the most feared in the wizarding circles.
Her face darkened, she was definitely not going to let her fear show. Show your belly and they'll kick you around like a dog, was a well used phrase, and all too astute. "You think so, Drakie?"
"I don't think so, love." He drawled, getting to his feet. When he next spoke, it was with deadly calm. "I know so. If I find Drusilla hurt in any way, you and your family will die a most undesirable death. You know full well that I can make the entire thing look like an accident, too."
"You don't mean it." She was grasping at straws, knowing full well that if Draco Malfoy had wanted someone dead, they would, without fail, be, in the shortest time imaginable. I should've gotten a better foothold before threatening him! She thought furiously. Now it'll never work. It did not take a genius to see that her trump card was lost. And with that gained a new knowledge, the cold fact of what Draco Malfoy was really capable of.
"Don't I?" he shot her a condescending smirk, full of confidence and derision at the same time. "I've always thought you were dumb, Parkinson. I just never knew how dumb."
He threw the coins onto the table carelessly then swept out of the place without so much as a backward glance.
***