Against All Odds

Chapter Eight

Stefani: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! *runs frantically after her littlest cousin who is feeding Stefani's prized possession (her sketchbook, what else?) to the fish*

S-chan's little cousin: LOOK AT THE PRETTY PICTURES FISHY!"

Stefani: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! *dives for book*

Book: *drops into fishtank*

Stefani: (O.O) *keels over in a dead faint*

~~~

Nanashi: And that's why the authoress is in such a bad mood.

Stefani: *grumble, grumble, grumble*

Chibi-Relena: However, she did not really keel over in a dead faint, but several members of her extended family had to hold her back from assaulting her cousin and shaking some sense into her.

Heero-chan: …

Chibi-Relena: *stomps on Heero-chan's foot*

Heero-chan: *grumbles under his breath* Just read the damn chapter.

Stefani: *commences sobbing* MY SKETCHBOOOOOOOOOOOK!!!! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! *runs off, still bawling her eyes out*

Chibi-Relena: (-_-);

Heero-chan: (-_-);

Nanashi: ///_-);

(Overused joke I know, but I couldn't resist)

~*~*~*~

Draco watched her silently for a moment before saying, rather quietly, "I'm glad you're all right, Daisy."

Hermione regarded him silently for a moment, lips pursed in that thoughtful look he had learned that preceded any astonishing statement. He didn't have long in the waiting.

She pulled out a glittering silver ring, fashioned into that of a small gold reptile. It could have been either snake or dragon, it was hard to tell in that dim light, but Draco recognized in an instant. And a sudden coil of some sickening feeling wrapped itself around his stomach. "Where's Pansy? I think she'd want this back."

Nagini coughed delicately while the others were muttering several, "Well, uh…", "You see…", "Daisy, she's…"

"They want to tell you in the gentlest way possible that Pansy Parkinson is dead."

Hermione's jaw dropped in shock as she turned on the dark beauty of Slytherin house. "She's… what?!"

Draco's hair hung low, hiding his eyes behind several chunky bangs that he'd allowed to be free of the usually slicked back coiffure called his hair. "Yeah…" he said softly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, as eyed him closely, checking for any infinitesimal clue that any of them were lying. That it was just some elaborate (and in very poor taste) joke. But it didn't seem like it.

"What… happened to her?"

"No one knows 'Mione, she was in solitary confinement and then Professor Sa Lai just walked in and… there she was."

Hermione's face turned a sick, grayish color. "Do you… do you think it was because of me?"

"Why would it be because of you?"

"I don't know… while I was sleeping, I could hear her voice laughing at me, taunting me, screaming at me… it wasn't as if I could physically hear it… but I knew each word she said, and then it was like we were fighting… I think I was dreaming really, but she was trying to hurt me I think… and I fought back…" she shrugged helplessly, "I really don't know… I didn't know what side effects casting the reflection spell on myself would do."

"It was not your fault." This was from Nagini, and Hermione looked at her in surprise, and Ron, with a hint of suspicion. "And how d'you know that?" he asked her, daring her to tell them.

Nagini's eyes narrowed at Ron, and stuck out her tongue at him, which strangely didn't seem childish at all, rather it seemed almost threatening. Hermione turned to her in alarm, before noticing Ron's confusion. That was it… he and Draco had no clue. "Despite the considerable lack of knowledge I have of Hermione, I do not deign to think that she is a murderer." A wry thought crossed her mind, Unlike the filthy turncoat you are suddenly supposing yourself to be… she shuddered at the thought, of what her Lord Voldemort might do to her.

"That's true…" this from Draco Malfoy.

"If I might remind you, conversing in the hallways in such a large group is usually discouraged." The low, silky voice of Severus Snape was heard directly behind them, shocking them all, Nagini mentally showing grudging admiration at the silence of his footsteps that rivaled her own. Well, why shouldn't he? He was head of Slytherin House, was he not?

"'Mione just got out of the hospital, Professor, and—"

"Be that as it may, Weasley, the place for conversation is usually in the Dining Hall. I suggest you go there before any House points are deducted."

The five students, dignified Seventh-Years as they may be, cowered beneath Snape's sudden scowl, before dropping all pretenses to cut and run.

Snape himself was in a very bad mood. That woman, that new professor had literally been thrust at him, most of the other professors, as well as the headmaster, had wanted, to the extremes that she be taken care of, in favor of her… condition. In other words, the fact that she was a vampire made her have instincts the rest of the school staff did not. And as he had during the short term of Remus Lupin's stay as the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, he was now entrusted with the task of brewing a potion for her. However, the only problem was, that vampires, why acknowledged by wizarding society, were not the most popular of beings. Which was why this potion had not yet been completely perfected. And which was why he had to figure it out on his own. This accounted with spending time with a woman he was rather suspicious of, truth be told he was suspicious about every new student and professor that entered the school, he had a feeling she had more first-hand experience with the Dark Arts than she seemed.

This also made him rather intrigued, despite himself, and the fact that he couldn't seem to crack through that seemingly perfected state of… bemusement maybe? It was the total detachment she had about this school. He hadn't seen her fazed once until the Parkinson incident that afternoon. And he did not enjoy being near that woman, as very good a help she was when it came to testing the potion. The potion to make it so that the bloodlust did not overpower her own will. Why, he could not give a straight answer to just yet, but she made him… uneasy.

"Severus?" That half-dreamy, half-steely voice floated down to his ears from the door. That was another thing that bothered him, that voice of silky softness over steely undertones. "Yes, Miss… Tien Shi?"

She appeared at the doorway, smiling at his discomfort with her name. "Oh, silly thing, call me Angel. The Headmaster only used that name because of the circumstances under which he found me back in China."

Snape drew back, offended at being called a 'silly thing' by a fellow professor. "Very well then, Angel, what is it that you want?" he asked stiffly.

She came down the stairs slowly, in a graceful, smooth gait that almost rivaled that new Slytherin, Nagini's. "I see I have offended you then…" she said softly, as she approached him, "I merely came to see if your testing the potion required any of my limited services."

"I do have a new variant, but I do not think it wise to use it on you just yet." Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure what would happen. Angel Salleigh, however, was a witch quite adept at Potions, almost as good as she was in her knowledge of the defense against the dark arts, and she marched over to the long wooden table. "Severus, I'm sure anything is better than constantly worrying that I'll suddenly flash these—" here she contorted her lips into a half-smile, half-grimace to show her suddenly elongated and curved fangs. "—to my students and scare them out of their wits. And should it not work… no one would be so extremely worried." The bitterness in her voice was almost palpable as she took the vial of still-bubbling violet concoction and, ignoring the protests of the Potions Master as he went to grab the vial, held him back with inhuman strength and downed the vial.

Snape stepped backwards the instant she did so, suddenly apprehensive of what she would do and suddenly wishing his wand wasn't sitting placidly on his desk on the other side of the room. Because the minute she swallowed it, the vampiress, let out a soft, if high keening sound, and her head snapped back down to stare eye-to-eye with him. The vial dropped from her hand, smashing against the floor. Whatever effect he'd wanted, this certainly wasn't it as the woman slowly advanced on him.

Trapped in the one corner of the room without a clear path to the door, and not even with is wand, he watched the approaching woman with a look of those that are doomed. Merlin's beard, why do I not follow my gut instincts on subjects like these?! The way things looked right now, all he could think about was that his place on the food chain had just slipped a few notches, and he'd been degraded to the species of 'dinner'.

~*~*~*~

"WHAT?!" Voldemort's voice was raised in complete outrage, the dark eyes flashing. Wormtail cowered and shied away from his master, "S-Sir, the Initiates in the castle…"

"My Nagini has been under my service, and has been my right-hand serpent for as long as I can remember. If she did indeed kill that pathetic Parkinson girl, then it was for the good of our cause… my cause."

"B-but my lord…" he whined pathetically, "That Pansy girl might've b-been a valuable addition to you… she showed great promise when she cast an Unforgivable—"

"You fool." The words were smooth, "Do you believe she would have been such a help if she cast the Cruciatus curse on a fellow schoolmate simply because of jealousy? She was facing Azkaban and she would not have been any help to us." Lord Voldemort was in a terrible mood, truly annoyed with the uselessness of the Animagus known previously as Peter Pettigrew.

"I will allow Nagini some freedom at that school… she is knowledgeable enough in the subtle ways of our torture not to risk it."

Wormtail exited quickly, wondering suddenly just how much Lord Voldemort cared about that snake. If he even could care anymore. Or if he had ever could.

~*~*~*~

Hermione was in her room, stretching and luxuriating in the silky comforts of her own bed. Finding something small and hard digging in her side again, she pulled it out of her pocket irritably, before recognizing it. Of course… she had yet to give it back to him. She flung it onto her desk, allowing it to land in a box of paperclips and going back to wriggling on her bed. Nagini, who walked in at that moment smiled softly at the sight of the 17-year-old acting like a child. "Hermione?" The girl stopped moving, and sat up, a slight flush staining her cheeks. "Ahh—er, hey?"

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament will begin soon."

"I know."

"Do not let Harry Potter compete. You are his friend, make sure he remains alive." Hermione looked serious, "What do you and Draco know?"

For a moment, Nagini was taken aback. "What does Draco know?"

"I don't know, that's the thing! He won't tell me! He just gave me all this bull about it being our last year and how it'll be You-Know-Who's last chance to kill him before we graduate!"

"Do you not think it's more probable than possible? The tournament would be the best excuse… I wonder at Dumbledore for holding it again at this school."

Hermione sighed, nodding, "If you won't tell me anything more than that, I guess we'll leave it at that." she "fwump"ed back onto the bed. "Mmm, it's great to be back in my bed…"

Nagini raised an eyebrow, "I would think that after two weeks in bed you'd be a little more…" she waved her hands in cyclic gesture trying to think of a word, "active?" Hermione laughed at that, "If you think the hospital beds even compare with mine, you need to be forced to stay in one for a very long time. Then you'll know the difference."

"I agree." The two of the looked up to see Draco lounging in the doorway behind Nagini. Having shucked his school robes and the customary green Slytherin jacket and tie, his school shirt's collar gaping, he looked positively delicious.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why am I not surprised that Malfoy spent time in the Hospital Wing? Was it when Ron decked you? Or maybe when that Hippogriff slashed your arm! Or was it when—?" she asked was interrupted by Draco, his pale face flushing, "Shut up."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh how original." She replied sarcastically.

Draco shrugged, "Whatever works."

Nagini sighed, "Return to the topic at hand if you don't mind. Or at least, the topic I had in mind… what are we to do about the Yule Ball? Our answers are to be given in tonight."

The two of them stared at her, mouths dropping. "You're not serious." Hermione said flatly, unable to believe it.

In response, Nagini held out the piece of paper that Professor Dumbledore had handed to her earlier that week. The words swam before her eyes for a moment before Hermione actually focused on them. And, like Nagini had said, the date they had to present their idea was… "TODAY!"

"Shit!" Draco swore as he raced towards the common room, looking for the stacks of parchment that they'd written all over with ideas. They found Crookshanks curled up on one pile of them, calmly licking its paw. The moment they entered the common room however, its eyes went right to Nagini and it made a sound between a purr and a hiss. Nagini smiled, walking over, rubbing the cat between its ears, and, with her back to the others, she whispered into the cat's ear, "She's fine now…" The cat purred in contentment, allowing itself to thoroughly enjoy her scratching. Nagini stood up, holding the cat in her arms, stroking its back now, and a strange faraway smile appeared on her face for a moment before she shook her head, turning back to the task at hand.

"What theme should this year be then?" she asked, sitting down on one of the comfortable sofa chairs, with a stack of papers with Draco's neatly messy scrawl all over them. She lifted one, reading it silently to herself, then looked up to where Draco was sitting, across the long coffee table from Hermione who seemed to have cooled to him, and was paying attention to her own stack of papers. "So how about this… I thought we could do without those dress robes, y'know? We could go to it like a sort of prom almost, like the Muggle schools have their high school proms? Well I wanted to do that… you know, go all formal in nice dresses and tuxes." Draco grimaced, "You mean those monkey suits some of the half-Muggles parade around Hogsmeade in when there's a wedding?"

"Well… yes…"

Nagini smiled, flashing teeth. "I have never seen Muggle formal wear… what do they look like?" Hermione grinned, brightening. "Ooh! I have one! I got it over the summer and I brought it, even though there was absolutely no reason to wear it… but I think it's so pretty in a dark, gothic-esque way." She ran off into her room, shouting, "Hold on!"

Draco blinked.

Nagini smiled. She knew well enough that Hermione would look stunning. Perhaps then, Draco might have the balls to say something about his and Pansy's 'relationship'. There was a lot of rustling behind that closed door, and Nagini's eyes were sharp enough to catch Draco's sudden restlessness.

Leaning in closer, in a soft voice that approached the line of between speaking and whispering, she asked, "Do you like Hermione's idea?"

"She's the one with all the big ideas, not me. I don't really care."

The lamia could barely hold in her impatience. Perfect. Now he was acting all aloof ad unconcerned. Only Crookshanks' throaty purr, kept her from saying something smarting. Had Hermione known her cat was part Kneazle? That he was a magical kitty, and was worth more than several Nimbus 2003's? The cat, nudged its head into her abdomen, forcing her thoughts back to the matter at hand. Currently, Draco was ready to get up and walk back into his room, through with waiting.

"Where are you going?"

"Can't you tell? I'm going to my room if Daisy's going to take her merry little time in her room."

"I HEARD THAT!" Hermione's voice bellowed, magically amplified through the doorway. "Now sit down and shut up!"

The door opened a minute later, and there, the stately brunette did a mock runway pose in the doorway. Nagini smiled approvingly, while Draco… well, suffice to say that he was shell-shocked.

To describe the dress. Draco could've sworn that it had nothing to do with Muggles because of the fact that absolutely nothing could look that good on a person without it having to be magical glamour. But it was as real as you or I, and though it was doubtful that it would have blended in, even in the Muggle world, Hermione looked more like the bewitching beauty than ever before.

Hah, if Draco had thought she'd look hot all the way back in Fourth, then, she was nothing less than a Goddess of indescribable dark beauty, a Black Goddess, sinful and sexy.

The black material that made up the dress was indescribable. It could have been silk, it could have been satin… it could have been any number of fabrics, he didn't care. It was cut short in the front, several inches above her knees, which were clad in black fishnet hose and long black boots with a sharp spike of a heel. The back flared out so that it reached just about the heel of her shoes, as not to drag on the ground. Jets of silver flame shot up from the bottom of the long skirt, edged with sparkling red accents, contrasting brightly against black.

And that was only describing the bottom of her dress, (from a guy's point of view too!).

Hugging her body, it was just tight enough to accent her curves, but not enough so that she looked like she would never breathe again. (Hey, she had more common sense than that!) Red ties held the V-neckline closed… but just barely, the criss-cross pattern leading his eyes downward from her collarbone… he swallowed nervously. The sleeves were long, made of some dark material—it looked like lace—that melded both black and red into one mix of complete artwork, material so sheer you could see through it, and her slim arms underneath. They flared out at the elbows and flowed in an unseen wind whenever she moved.

She turned around slowly, grinning. "Well? Isn't it just fabulous?" she was talking to Nagini at this point, Draco apparently not able to offer any opinion at that point.

"You look…" she had to think to find a suitable human word, "simply dazzling."

Hermione grinned, "It's all in the dress… you'd look just as good as me in it I'm sure!"

Nagini laughed, "No one could look as well as you do in that dress, I guarantee it. Perhaps I will find one for myself…" she frowned, suddenly remembering the reason she was here at this castle in the first place. "But…"

"Oh, don't but. First thing come the London trip, we'll find something for you."

"Among Muggles?"

"When in the Muggle world, you usually will expect to see Muggles."

Draco, again, found himself to be ignored when the conversation topic steered into Rodeo Drive. Hermione of course, did not forget. "Oh yeah…" she scrabbled around the folds of her skirt, before pulling out a small object that flashed silver. She tossed it to Draco, who caught it reflexively. When you've been a Seeker for six years, the reflexes become imbued. "It's pretty you know… and it's sure to cost a bundle, you wouldn't want it stuck with me now would you?"

Nagini sighed, "Hermione, Draco, how does this sound? I shall bring our idea of Muggle formal dress, as well as the idea of the 'Bewitching Seraphs' to play for us by popular demand. And you two shall talk… I have no need for an undercurrent of hostility between my roommates." She disappeared out the portrait hole, a soft greeting to Sirius and James as she passed by, down the hallway.

Draco and Hermione were left alone, staring dumbfounded at Nagini, what had been the only barrier between the two. Draco had to admit, she was better at hiding her feelings than most girls he knew. "So now you know," he said dully, collapsing into one of the plush sofa chairs.

"That Pansy's…" she paused, almost hesitant, to say the word, "dead?"

"No, that we were supposed to get married after school."

Hermione shook her head, "I don't know why, but at the least, I expected you to have better taste in women…" Draco laughed harshly, "Don't I know it? Every Slytherin guy in the school has fucked her at least once. Who the hell would want to give a ring to her?"

"Then why did you—?"

"Our families wanted us to. Pansy was the best they could come up with to pair with the H—never mind." he turned rather red, and she eyed him inquisitively, but did not say anything.

"Draco…"

He stood up and made as if to go. She, in her stead, grabbed him by the sleeve of his black robe and tugged him down, onto the two-seater she was sitting on. "Oh no you don't, you're gonna tell me just what you think of my dress!"

She had changed the subject with such relative ease that he was almost grateful for her dropping the subject and finding a new one so quickly. "You look…" he trailed off as he took in the wonder that was Hermione Granger in that confection of a dress. "Good." he finished, weakly, unable to think up a good way to describe it. She raised an eyebrow, obviously disappointed with his choice of words. "Good? That's it?"

Draco was silent, before shrugging.

"Wow. And I thought Harry got tongue-tied around girls…" she muttered, for some strange reason knowing exactly what would make him blow his top.

"If you think I'm anything like that idiotic Boy Wonder—" he raged, leaping to his feet, before he realized she was laughing. He stared at her, silent and openmouthed, wondering what on Earth was so funny.

The subject change was as immediate as the previous one. "So who're you taking to the Yule Ball?" she asked, leaning forward, eyes inquisitive, really wanting to know. Draco gulped, trying his darndest to ignore the very pleasant view he had, and still trying to answer the question. "I don't know…"

She rolled her eyes, "How like a guy," she mumbled, sitting back against the back of the sofa and sighing. "Just a question… but if I'd been in Slytherin, would you even consider taking me?" she asked, suddenly, pinning him with her eyes again.

He was dumbfounded, shocked, flabbergasted, astounded, and any other words of that nature you could think of. "You?"

"Yeah… me…" seeing his face, she immediately frowned. "Oh never mind," she said, irritated. "I should've known." He was surprised at her reaction, and managed to voice a question of his own. "I kissed Pansy once or twice before," he told her, and despite her almost disgusted look he continued staunchly, "and she was picking out her bridesmaids' dresses in less than two days. But then I go and kiss you and you act like it's nothing. Why's that?"

She looked well surprised, but decided to answer anyway. "Well, I'm not Pansy to start off. I have never been that clingy about anything in my entire life. And I don't believe that a few kisses are true love. If you knew what kind of summer I had—" she shook her head, "No, cross that, it was a great summer. But that doesn't mean that I didn't get my heart broken a few times in a row. Makes you wonder what true love is, you know?"

Draco had lapsed into silence again, and she sighed. "But why would you care? You've been embarrassed about being caught kissing a Mudblood every time…"

"Daisy, let me ask you one question."

"Shoot."

"Why on Earth would you think that those 'Mudblood' cracks were for you?"

"Eh?" she could just feel the question mark floating above her head.

"Was there ever a time where Weasley did not react more than you whenever I said that?"

"You mean… all those times…" she looked incredulous.

"I was trying to piss of the Weasel, not you. I couldn't have cared less about that."

She winced, even under his eyes, before recovering her expression of considerate cockiness. Raising an eyebrow, she said, dryly it must be told, "You could've gone without that last part, you know…"

She'd disappeared behind that familiar old banter that had been happening between them since day one. He shot her a smile, this time with a bit of that old Malfoy leer, "But then, it wouldn't be me now would it?"

Laughing, she grabbed a pillow from behind her, smacking him in the side of the head, "You're a bloody asshole, you know that?"

"HEY!" he yelled, groping for another pillow, all of which she kept firmly tucked beneath her. Apparently, she had planned for this, because as he reached forward, she smacked him on the head again. And again. And… well now, again!

Finally, several tens of whacks later, he succeeded in grabbing a pillow after half-wrestling her off them. "You're going to get it now!" he growled, his perfectly combed hair mussed as he attacked her, amidst shouts of laughter from both of them, shot through with several of her giggles. He soon succeeded in pinning her down, disarming her of her pillow, laughter, as well as triumph dancing in his eyes, as he regarded her, still giggling beneath him.

"Oh stop it!" she was shrieking, "You're going to kill my dress! You have no idea how long it'll take to get rid of these wrinkles!"

"Then you'll get another one. Or, you'll work one of those damned charms you're so good at and fix it, you little witch!" he returned, grinning evilly at her. Hermione stopped laughing all at once, mildly surprising Draco, "You know, you're right about that one at the least…" she looked so thoughtful and seemed to forget their current situation so quickly, that he had to wonder at her…

Then the next second, he found himself lying flat on his back on the carpeted floor, Hermione straddling his stomach with a triumphant look on her face. She was smirking down on him in an expression he recognized very well… when he looked at himself in the looking glass every morning. Oh bloody hell, was she taking his characteristics for herself now?

"You are distracted too easily," she remarked. Draco, who had a veeeerrry nice view, of her daisy underwear (brings back memories, don't it?), just because of how short the front of that skirt was, was in no mood to tell her to move anywhere else.

"Like you can talk,"

"Very true. I'm supposed to be mad at you." My, she was blunt.

"You don't look it."

"No, I don't, don't I…?" she leaned in close, so that her face was just above his, tantalizing his senses with the sight, and with the scent of pure Hermione 'Daisy' Granger. Despite his best intentions, and what was left of his (admittedly warped) gentlemanly ethics, he wanted to kiss her. Very, very much so. And she knew it, the little minx, pinning down his arms just enough so that he couldn't pull her down, ending all this sweet torture. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, her face came ever closer…

In spite of his steeling himself to do the opposite, his eyelids seemed heavier than if he had went three weeks without a single sleep and he simply had to close them… He could almost taste her lips against his, and he longed for them, every moment seeming more like some prolonged, exquisite torture, than a simple kiss.

But Hermione had other ideas. Taking advantage of his closed eyelids, she moved quickly to the side of his head to his ear, her lips tickling the sensitive skin as she whispered several arcane words of magic. Her wand, which had somehow been hidden in her sleeve all along (he would have to look up a spell to hide a wand like that) was jabbing into him right in the solar plexus.

His eyelids flew open as he stared up at her grinning face as she got herself up off him and trying to smooth out several wrinkles in the black fabric of her dress. Without even a peck on the cheek, she flounced off to her room, saying something about "feeding Crookshanks". As if that cat didn't very well feed itself quite adequately!

Draco stretched, his sanity back from its holiday to Majorca and he lay on the carpet, staring at the vaulted ceiling, thinking. What was wrong with him? If ever his father found out… a cold twisting of fear coiled in the pit of his stomach as he thought of his father.

Owls were being sent alarmingly regularly now, and every single was telling him of his duty to the Malfoy household, upholding family honor, prolonging the respect given to their name, and all that bull. Like he cared two Knuts for any of that… well, maybe the gold. Because before he turned eighteen, he would never catch sight of the inside of their Gringott's vault. And should he decide not to bear the Dark Mark, there was no way in hell that he'd ever see his next birthday… according to his father.

But Draco had gotten into Slytherin not just because he wanted to, but because he deserved to, and if there was any way around a concrete rule, he would find it. Satisfied with that knowledge, he pushed the residual fear aside and got up, in need of a cold shower.

Or at least, he should have gotten up if he had been able to move his back even a single inch off the carpet.

It took a few seconds for this to get to his head, before his lungs expanded and he yelled, in his best 'voice of doom'. "DAISY!"

He heard her giggle in the other room, followed by a, "Sorry Draco-honey, can't hear ya from back here!"

"GET ME UP OFF THIS BLOODY FLOOR!"

"What was that, baby? You've got to speak louder than that…!" there was that dreaded sing-song quality that she had whenever she was this immensely pleased with herself. He'd heard it before, and it was just as teeth-grinding (when he was this frustrated with whatever she did to him) whenever she'd made a particularly nasty retort or done something considerably evil to him.

"ARGH!" was all he could manage. He cursed himself for having left his wand in his room, and, feeling frustration beginning to take the better of him, grabbed a stack of parchment still left behind from Nagini, and threw them. However, he found soon enough that it was a very stupid thing to do because all it resulted in was a reenactment of Harry Potter's 'Hogwart's letter fiasco' and was almost completely buried in parchment.

"I have a feeling that wasn't quite the effect you wanted." He looked up backwards, craning his neck to see Hermione standing above him, her arms crossed. He frowned, "What gave you that idea?" he groused, frowning, and looking rather ridiculous doing that upside down.

"Do you want me to let you up, then?"

"No, really?" he asked sarcastically. Frustration made his tongue snappish.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "No need to be rude. So… what would happen if I should let you up off the floor then, Draco-baby?"

"What do you want?" he asked waspishly, not in the mood for any light banter.

Hermione's smile grew even wider, "Well now… let's see… I really would like a guy to learn how to drive the car for our trip down to London… it's in a few weeks you know."

"Drive? You mean… in one of those metal Muggle contraption?!" he looked astounded. "Who the hell do you think I am?! Arthur Weasely?!" Hermione looked almost hurt, "That's not a very nice thing to say… nor are you in a good position to say things like that…" she added.

Draco suddenly wished he was back in the Slytherin Common room, away from the Gryffindor Out-to-Get-Draco-Malfoy.

Poor Draco. He should've learned sooner not to offend a rampaging Gryffindor beauty queen.

~*~*~*~

She clawed feebly at the shallow crevasses amid the stone blocks, her tired limbs screaming their protests as she attempted to continue the harsh work of scaling the massive wall. If only she had her wand…! She was weak, and she knew it. Deep in the lower parts of the castle, even beneath the deepest of the dungeons lay the stoneworks, the very roots of the castle that had been built by the Founding four. It had taken what little magic she had left at her disposal to free herself and she was now hiding in the deep, dark spaces like some cowardly dog. Freedom seemed so far away… there was no other way out other than the way she already was taking, and the narrow stone shaft she was slowly clawing herself up seemed immense.

Get me out! I want to get out! Some small, childish voice cried out from inside her, and the eyes that had never shed a single tear blinked rapidly in order to be rid of the embarrassing moisture… she would soon be out! That was her only welcome thought, her only hope.

But what was the use? If she were able, who could she turn to? Who would remember her as the person she had been, now seeming to be millennia ago? How could they know, the secrets, the enchantments that were hidden in the very roots of the castle that she had stumbled upon? No one would believe her…

I want to get out! Her mind screamed and her hand reached out, to grasp the final edge. A surge of her residual adrenaline rushed through her and her hands, scraped and cracked with several nails broken through, scrabbled at the wall, having lost a hold for a moment and fear overtook the adrenaline.

Fear was stronger than adrenaline as it seemed before she pulled herself up onto the ledge, into the coolness of the night, the moon shining on the back of her sweaty neck, as she simply lay there, breathing hard, her body hurting worse than anything else. She was out of the castle. That was all she had to know just then and there. The wind blew chillingly, freezing the sweat on her body and she shivered, crawling towards the relative shelter of the bushes near her. It was best not to be out in the open anyway.

Shivering hard enough that several of the fallen leaves of the bush crackled beneath her, she fell asleep.

She never even noticed when another person came closer, her feet barely even making the dried leaves on the ground crackle as she came forward. "I knew this would happen." She did however, feel the sudden warmth and the coarse, scratchy fabric of a blanket been laid, firstly on top of her, then being wrapped around her as she was picked up and carried away from the hole in the stone wall. She slept on, silently, completely and utterly exhausted.

~*~*~*~

"Stop!" he yelled, nervously, almost fearfully as he saw the color of her eyes had slowly melted from their usual silvery color to a deep, raging red. A small, feral smile appeared on her blood-red lips, framing the whiteness of her teeth magnificently, before she clamped her mouth shut, turning violently away. "I need—" she ground out hoarsely, "to get back—to my—office—blood—"

"Angel—"

"Please—" her voice was plaintive now, and with little hesitance, he said, "Drink mine."

She started, shocked half out of her blood-craving haze, "No! There is—in my office—"

"Your office is all the way up on the second floor. You would be endangering the students in the halls." His voice was reasonable, even as, only a little while before, he had been afraid of her and what she could do.

"Not all." She said, trying to convince herself, just as much as reassure him. He nodded.

She came forward then, pressing him against the wall, leaning fully on him as she went high on her toes to reach his neck, and he tensed, despite himself. A sharp pain later, and then the slightly light-headed feeling, as well as something else… a sudden heat that spread from where her lips were caressing his skin as she drew in his blood, and down throughout his entire body. Her small hands reached up, one grasping at his back, the other twining itself in his long, thick hair. He could tell why those who had survived a vampire's feeding called it the Vampire's Kiss.

Suddenly, she wrenched away, shrinking away from him, and his body was shocked by the sudden absence of the humming waves of heat that had been flowing through his body.

"Oh God," she swore beneath her breath, her eyes still red, a thin line of blood dripping from the corner of her lips, "Oh God, what have I done?" He gingerly touched the place where she had bitten him and felt the sticky liquid still on his neck. She bit her lip, coming forward, tentatively. He stood frozen as he watched the crimson-eyed woman come closer, unable to move. Reaching up again, she pulled him down closer to her, and set her lips on the twin markings and he closed his eyes, expecting another sharp pain.

It never came. But her tongue came out, swiping what was left of his blood away, and slowly, infinitesimally, the wound closed, and the bite marks could not be seen. Then she backed away again, her eyes cast downward. "I am sorry…" she said softly, "Perhaps Dumbledore was wrong when he said he could trust me…"

He was silent for a moment, saying nothing as he had often done when in a position he disliked and could do nothing about. He was not a man who enjoyed giving comfort, was a novice at it really, and he wanted more than anything to be out of this situation as quickly as he possibly could. Well, when all else fails, you can always turn back to what you do best. In his case, he was cynical. "Then perhaps you might wish to speak to the Headmaster of this affair if you are so distrustful of yourself. It does not bode well to try untested potions and attack other professors… or students." He added, twisting the already-inserted knife. She physically winced before saying, almost sarcastically, "And who would you have tested on in my stead? Another vampire mistress you keep locked in your closet?" she asked, her low, purring voice sending shivers up and down his spine at her implications.

"Of course not!" he snapped, with a swift gesture, allowing the long sleeves of his robes to be moved out of his way, "I meant when I have my wand and can cast a Stunning spell if it becomes immensely dangerous." She watched him closely, listened to the quickness of his intakes of breath. "But you could have. You know you could have gotten your wand when I retrieved my sanity. Why didn't you cast a Stunning spell? A Full-Body-Bind? Something of the sort?"

Now that she said it out loud, he felt foolish. Why hadn't he? His judgement had not been that clouded with fear that he could not have gone for his wand at the opportune time? Why then? "I—" she cut him off with a slight gesture of her hand. "I am sorry," she said finally, "I appreciate what you're doing for me. Merlin's beard, I wish to heaven that I knew enough to brew this potion myself… and I honestly thank you. Not many people are as trusting as Dumbledore is to me and I am grateful. I will not compromise my position like this again…" she disappeared out the door, leaving him to continue pondering the immortal question. Why? Why, why, why, why, why?

~*~*~*~

End of chapter. Just because it seems like as good a place as any to stop at. Email me! I'm at mirroredsakura@yahoo.com or you can even review me! Multiple times! AsianAvenue was right! I AM a guestbook whore!