The lake glittered as the moonlight hit the ripples on the surface. Every
now and then, a tentacle would reach up and splash back down, sending
shining drops of water into the air to rival the night stars. It really was
quite beautiful, at least to Hermione.
She spotted a flat stone by the back and took the invisibility cloak off the joint package of her and Draco. Hermione took a seat on the cool rock and settled herself to face the lake. She knew things had to be discussed. She had decided, in those split seconds in front of the Fat Lady's empty portrait, that she would never know how to handle the mess she had made for herself unless she knew what was going on. It was time to put things out into the open.
She looked over at Draco Malfoy, who was looking out over the lake. There was something so melancholy about him, so morose and mad, and she couldn't figure out why. He had always been somewhat unhappy, or at least she thought so, being that he acted the way he did for the past five years. But now it was magnified. She almost didn't want to disturb him, but she knew that she had to say her piece.
"Malfoy?" She said softly, and he slowly turned to face her. "Malfoy, please sit down. There's something I want to discuss."
He grunted an approval and set himself next to her. Normally he would have been a bit more attentive, but his mind was rushing with thoughts, about everything from his father to the Quidditch game to his plan. He had to stick to his plan.
Hermione took a deep breath. "It seems I've muddled things up for myself quite a bit lately, first with that detention, then with last night. I don't even know for sure if I should be out here right now with you. But there are things I've been thinking about and things I've been feeling, and. . .well, I suppose they need to be said."
Draco turned to her and saw the starlight in her eyes. He turned away quickly and repeated to himself, *She's a Mudblood. She's a Mudblood.* Somehow he didn't feel reassured.
"Malfoy. . ." It sounded so harsh to her. Hermione spoke more softly. "Draco. . ."
They were both rather surprised. That was the first time she had ever actually said his name.
"Draco, I don't know why I feel this way. It's stupid and uncalled for, and most likely not reciprocated, but I do. Perhaps it's desperation, because Ron isn't taking any initiative. Perhaps it's revenge against Pansy Parkinson. Perhaps I enjoy the attention or feelings I get. Perhaps it's because it's somewhat forbidden. Perhaps it's a manifestation of 'opposites attract'. I'm not sure. But. . ." Hermione took a deep breath.
"Draco, I believe I'm starting to fall for you."
The very utterance brightened Draco's mood tremendously. But that was because his plan was working, he told himself. He turned to her and put on the charm.
"I thought you'd never feel the way I do." He lied. . .in the corner of his mind, though, he didn't think it felt like a lie. But it was; it had to be.
Hermione looked somewhat surprised. "You do? You feel the same?"
Draco used the self-poise that his father taught him to employ in sneaky situations. "I've felt this way for ages. I've already told you, I think you're stunning. But anything that goes on between us could. . .well. . .potentially cause a problem, don't you think?"
"I thought so too!" Hermione look back out to the lake, and suddenly her face grew sullen. "If Ron finds out. . ."
Draco tried to commiserate, and possibly take Hermione's mind off her mood- killing friends. His plan was going spectacularly so far. Last thing he needed was an image of the Weasel fucking things up for him. "If Ron finds out? You're not dating Ron. Pansy-- now that one's trouble. She's got the baby's names picked out already."
"It's a girl thing. Every girl does it." Hermione chimed in.
"Yes, well, the 'girl' can sit on me, easily. So I'm not too eager to have her find out."
"Ron too. I suppose we'll have to keep things secret." She couldn't stop thinking of how this would hurt her friend. Hermione sighed and leaned her head down onto Draco's shoulder. The weight felt foreign to him. "This isn't going to be easy."
Draco looked down at her. He almost felt pity for her. She was so morally inept-- too idealistic, too trusting. There was barely a hedonistic or corrupt bone in her body (He would change that. . .later). The way that she was acting, it made it seem like she honestly believed a snake could turn into a worm overnight. It made him feel almost guilty doing this. . .well, almost. This Slytherin snake was coiled and ready to strike.
So he did. Placing his fingers on her chin, he lifted her face and his lips met hers. Almost instantly, Hermione forgot her worries, instead focusing on the feel of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. It reminded her of sweet butterbeer and chocolate. Her arms went to his neck, her hands running through the white blond hair at the nape. He was fantastic, he was amazing, he was. . .moving down to her neck? *This is new,* Hermione thought to herself, and then gasped as he gently nipped the spot where the neck and shoulder meet.
Was this going according to his plan? Yes. But Draco could hardly call this work. Unlike all the other girls he had fucked and forgotten, Granger was different. Granger was enjoyable. His hand began to move to the front of her shirt.
"Draco. . ." She whispered it. Dear God, that drove him mad. He took the buttons at the front of her shirt with wild speed. They almost threatened to rip.
"Draco. . ." Another whisper. *Oh, I'm good. She's loving this! A 'Closet Freak' just like Crabbe had guessed!* Draco was inwardly pleased. Forgetting the shirt, he upped the ante, moving his hands down to the hem of her skirt.
"Draco!"
Draco looked up at this point. That was not a pleasurable moan. That was a desperate, attention getting rasp. *Damn it! Why the interruptions now!?*
Hermione looked petrified, and began pawing the ground. "Where's the invisibility cloak? I hear someone coming."
Draco rolled his eyes furiously. *Could have been me, if I had a few more minutes.*
Hermione quickly found the cloth and flung it over the two of them. She motioned for him to be very silent. He waited impatiently for a sign of a single soul. Then finally, a shadow crept over them.
Filch was approaching the lake with Hagrid, both looking suspiciously at the waters.
"So yer sayin' yeh been hearing somethin' 'round the lake, eh, Filchy?" Hagrid had his crossbow out.
"I'm telling you. I heard 'em with my own ears. A student. Two of 'em. Out of bed after hours. And I'm going to find 'em and see they're right punished." Filch narrowed his beady little eyes.
Hagrid tried to remain serious, but nearly broke a smile, mostly out of pure frustration. "Punishments, Filch? What'll it be this time, eh? Hot oil or the rack?"
Filch turned on him angrily. "I know what I heard! I'm telling you! Two students!" He threw up his fingers for emphasis. "Running around at midnight! And when I find 'em, they'll be on the first train home! I'm telling you!"
"An' I'm tellin' yeh," Hagrid replied brusquely. "I ain't seen any students 'round here, not tonight, not any night. An' I'm tellin' yeh, its Bugbear season, an' those imps'll be out an' 'bout for the next few months, hootin' an' hollerin'. Jes' leave 'em be."
"But. . ." Filch protested.
Hagrid lowered his crossbow. Unfortunately, it was pointed right at Draco's bottom. Draco began to sweat as he saw Hagrid's fingers begin to tighten slightly in ire.
"No 'buts', Filch. I got bigger things teh handle, like getting' that there batch o' Fealtyfay ready fer Dumbledore's disposal. I don' have time to be traipsin' about no lake." Hagrid began to leave.
Filch quickly stepped in his way. "But you can't!" Hagrid tried to move past, but Filch wouldn't budge. He kept pushing and pushing and. . .
"GODDAMN IT ARGUS! GET OUTA MY WAY!" Hagrid shoved the curmudgeon, who ran running back to the castle, but in the tense moment, tightened his hands. The trigger on the crossbow clicked, and the arrow went sailing.
Right into Malfoy's behind. Hermione looked on amazed, and as the pain finally struck Draco, she pulled him into a kiss, muffling the sound of his discomfort.
Hagrid turned at the stifled groan, but in the dark of night, he could not see what would have looked like his arrow floating in mid-air. He shook his head. "Bugbears. . ."
Hermione watched until Hagrid was back inside his cottage, then she released Draco.
"ARGH!" Draco nearly wept at the pain. "STUPID BLOODY BASTARD CAN'T FUCKIN' HANDLE A CRAPPY LITTLE CROSSBOW! FUCK! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" He began grasping desperately behind him for the arrow lodged in his left lower cheek. Hermione quickly got out from under the invisibility cloak, and yanked out the arrow. This only caused Draco to howl louder.
"Shh! You've got to keep quiet! Filch is going to come back if you don't!" Hermione whispered desperately, taking off the cloak to keep it from being bloodied. Draco wouldn't stop yelping. She quickly reached for her wand and said clearly, "Silencius Temporare!"
Immediately Draco's voice was barely audible. Hermione looked down at the cloak. Harry was going to kill her when he saw the hole the arrow left. She tried a common sewing spell, but the damage wasn't totally healed. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. *Better than nothing.*
Draco lay on the ground, clutching his bottom and shouting about his ass. Hermione had read about this. . .puncture wounds. . .there had to be something. . .couldn't take him to Madame Pomfrey. . .too much to explain. . .oh yes! There was a spell for it!
She knelt down next to Draco, and smoothed her hand comfortingly over his brow. "I know what to do, if you'll let me." She said in a whisper. "But it'll require you to remove those pants." *Not that I'd mind.* Hermione thought. Then she shook her head. *That was wrong! Very wrong!* She reproached herself. *Eh, who cares!*
Draco nodded his understanding, and with great difficulty, rose, turned around, undid the buckle and dropped his trousers. There, staring Hermione in the face, was the brightest moon she had seen in her life.
She smiled to herself as she examined the wound, perhaps a little longer than necessary. After all, this was a once in a lifetime occurrence. She might as well savor it. With a small poke of her wand, Hermione said the words "Posteriorus Anipunctori."
The wound slowly healed. Draco began to straighten himself, and his muffled moans were beginning to cease.
"Are you done?" He said, slightly louder than his dirges had been before. The silencing spell was beginning to wear off.
Hermione smiled. "Just enjoying the view. You should know. . ."
Draco smirked sarcastically. "Hope you enjoyed it. This will not happen again." He tried to kneel, still in a bit of pain, and managed to pick his pants up.
Hermione tried to gain a peek at the front end of the young man, but failed. With an 'aww shucks' look to her face, she continued in her advice. "You should know that the healing process will take about 3 days. So classroom seats, beds, brooms. . .they're going to be a bit more uncomfortable."
"You only did that so Slytherin would lose this Friday." He said, half angrily, half tauntingly.
Hermione shrugged. "Would have happened anyway. Harry is the best Seeker."
Draco scowled. "Let's get back. It's been a long evening."
Hermione fixed her clothes and grabbed the invisibility cloak. The two of them walked as fast as they could back to the castle, Draco's new limp especially prominent climbing the stairs.
Hermione walked with Draco to the Slytherin common room entrance. "This way they won't see you walking around." She whispered. He got out from under the cloak and walked to the portrait on the wall. Hermione quickly grabbed his hand. "Wait." She pulled him back, and gave him a deep kiss. When she let go, he still had his eyes closed, and it seemed he was muttering something indistinct under his breath. "Well, goodnight." Hermione wrapped herself in the cloak and disappeared, her footsteps heard going down the hall.
Draco leaned his head against the portrait. *She's a Mudblood. She's a Mudblood. She's a filthy fucking Mudblood.*
"Excuse me, young sir, but I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly get off my canvas and get on with the password." The shrewd looking hook nosed man, neck wrapped tightly in an Elizabethan collar, glared down at him menacingly.
"Badminton." He muttered, keeping his head down, trying to get the thoughts of Hermione out of his head. The portrait swung open, and he climbed inside, wearily pulling the door closed from inside. In his hand he still had the green Quidditch robes. He held them up to his nose. They smelled like her-- lavender and sunflowers. Again his mind surged with thoughts of her, quickly followed by his 'Mudblood' mantra.
All he wanted was to get to bed. He limped around slowly. And came face to face with an angry Pansy Parkinson.
"And just where have you been, Draco Darling?"
She spotted a flat stone by the back and took the invisibility cloak off the joint package of her and Draco. Hermione took a seat on the cool rock and settled herself to face the lake. She knew things had to be discussed. She had decided, in those split seconds in front of the Fat Lady's empty portrait, that she would never know how to handle the mess she had made for herself unless she knew what was going on. It was time to put things out into the open.
She looked over at Draco Malfoy, who was looking out over the lake. There was something so melancholy about him, so morose and mad, and she couldn't figure out why. He had always been somewhat unhappy, or at least she thought so, being that he acted the way he did for the past five years. But now it was magnified. She almost didn't want to disturb him, but she knew that she had to say her piece.
"Malfoy?" She said softly, and he slowly turned to face her. "Malfoy, please sit down. There's something I want to discuss."
He grunted an approval and set himself next to her. Normally he would have been a bit more attentive, but his mind was rushing with thoughts, about everything from his father to the Quidditch game to his plan. He had to stick to his plan.
Hermione took a deep breath. "It seems I've muddled things up for myself quite a bit lately, first with that detention, then with last night. I don't even know for sure if I should be out here right now with you. But there are things I've been thinking about and things I've been feeling, and. . .well, I suppose they need to be said."
Draco turned to her and saw the starlight in her eyes. He turned away quickly and repeated to himself, *She's a Mudblood. She's a Mudblood.* Somehow he didn't feel reassured.
"Malfoy. . ." It sounded so harsh to her. Hermione spoke more softly. "Draco. . ."
They were both rather surprised. That was the first time she had ever actually said his name.
"Draco, I don't know why I feel this way. It's stupid and uncalled for, and most likely not reciprocated, but I do. Perhaps it's desperation, because Ron isn't taking any initiative. Perhaps it's revenge against Pansy Parkinson. Perhaps I enjoy the attention or feelings I get. Perhaps it's because it's somewhat forbidden. Perhaps it's a manifestation of 'opposites attract'. I'm not sure. But. . ." Hermione took a deep breath.
"Draco, I believe I'm starting to fall for you."
The very utterance brightened Draco's mood tremendously. But that was because his plan was working, he told himself. He turned to her and put on the charm.
"I thought you'd never feel the way I do." He lied. . .in the corner of his mind, though, he didn't think it felt like a lie. But it was; it had to be.
Hermione looked somewhat surprised. "You do? You feel the same?"
Draco used the self-poise that his father taught him to employ in sneaky situations. "I've felt this way for ages. I've already told you, I think you're stunning. But anything that goes on between us could. . .well. . .potentially cause a problem, don't you think?"
"I thought so too!" Hermione look back out to the lake, and suddenly her face grew sullen. "If Ron finds out. . ."
Draco tried to commiserate, and possibly take Hermione's mind off her mood- killing friends. His plan was going spectacularly so far. Last thing he needed was an image of the Weasel fucking things up for him. "If Ron finds out? You're not dating Ron. Pansy-- now that one's trouble. She's got the baby's names picked out already."
"It's a girl thing. Every girl does it." Hermione chimed in.
"Yes, well, the 'girl' can sit on me, easily. So I'm not too eager to have her find out."
"Ron too. I suppose we'll have to keep things secret." She couldn't stop thinking of how this would hurt her friend. Hermione sighed and leaned her head down onto Draco's shoulder. The weight felt foreign to him. "This isn't going to be easy."
Draco looked down at her. He almost felt pity for her. She was so morally inept-- too idealistic, too trusting. There was barely a hedonistic or corrupt bone in her body (He would change that. . .later). The way that she was acting, it made it seem like she honestly believed a snake could turn into a worm overnight. It made him feel almost guilty doing this. . .well, almost. This Slytherin snake was coiled and ready to strike.
So he did. Placing his fingers on her chin, he lifted her face and his lips met hers. Almost instantly, Hermione forgot her worries, instead focusing on the feel of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. It reminded her of sweet butterbeer and chocolate. Her arms went to his neck, her hands running through the white blond hair at the nape. He was fantastic, he was amazing, he was. . .moving down to her neck? *This is new,* Hermione thought to herself, and then gasped as he gently nipped the spot where the neck and shoulder meet.
Was this going according to his plan? Yes. But Draco could hardly call this work. Unlike all the other girls he had fucked and forgotten, Granger was different. Granger was enjoyable. His hand began to move to the front of her shirt.
"Draco. . ." She whispered it. Dear God, that drove him mad. He took the buttons at the front of her shirt with wild speed. They almost threatened to rip.
"Draco. . ." Another whisper. *Oh, I'm good. She's loving this! A 'Closet Freak' just like Crabbe had guessed!* Draco was inwardly pleased. Forgetting the shirt, he upped the ante, moving his hands down to the hem of her skirt.
"Draco!"
Draco looked up at this point. That was not a pleasurable moan. That was a desperate, attention getting rasp. *Damn it! Why the interruptions now!?*
Hermione looked petrified, and began pawing the ground. "Where's the invisibility cloak? I hear someone coming."
Draco rolled his eyes furiously. *Could have been me, if I had a few more minutes.*
Hermione quickly found the cloth and flung it over the two of them. She motioned for him to be very silent. He waited impatiently for a sign of a single soul. Then finally, a shadow crept over them.
Filch was approaching the lake with Hagrid, both looking suspiciously at the waters.
"So yer sayin' yeh been hearing somethin' 'round the lake, eh, Filchy?" Hagrid had his crossbow out.
"I'm telling you. I heard 'em with my own ears. A student. Two of 'em. Out of bed after hours. And I'm going to find 'em and see they're right punished." Filch narrowed his beady little eyes.
Hagrid tried to remain serious, but nearly broke a smile, mostly out of pure frustration. "Punishments, Filch? What'll it be this time, eh? Hot oil or the rack?"
Filch turned on him angrily. "I know what I heard! I'm telling you! Two students!" He threw up his fingers for emphasis. "Running around at midnight! And when I find 'em, they'll be on the first train home! I'm telling you!"
"An' I'm tellin' yeh," Hagrid replied brusquely. "I ain't seen any students 'round here, not tonight, not any night. An' I'm tellin' yeh, its Bugbear season, an' those imps'll be out an' 'bout for the next few months, hootin' an' hollerin'. Jes' leave 'em be."
"But. . ." Filch protested.
Hagrid lowered his crossbow. Unfortunately, it was pointed right at Draco's bottom. Draco began to sweat as he saw Hagrid's fingers begin to tighten slightly in ire.
"No 'buts', Filch. I got bigger things teh handle, like getting' that there batch o' Fealtyfay ready fer Dumbledore's disposal. I don' have time to be traipsin' about no lake." Hagrid began to leave.
Filch quickly stepped in his way. "But you can't!" Hagrid tried to move past, but Filch wouldn't budge. He kept pushing and pushing and. . .
"GODDAMN IT ARGUS! GET OUTA MY WAY!" Hagrid shoved the curmudgeon, who ran running back to the castle, but in the tense moment, tightened his hands. The trigger on the crossbow clicked, and the arrow went sailing.
Right into Malfoy's behind. Hermione looked on amazed, and as the pain finally struck Draco, she pulled him into a kiss, muffling the sound of his discomfort.
Hagrid turned at the stifled groan, but in the dark of night, he could not see what would have looked like his arrow floating in mid-air. He shook his head. "Bugbears. . ."
Hermione watched until Hagrid was back inside his cottage, then she released Draco.
"ARGH!" Draco nearly wept at the pain. "STUPID BLOODY BASTARD CAN'T FUCKIN' HANDLE A CRAPPY LITTLE CROSSBOW! FUCK! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" He began grasping desperately behind him for the arrow lodged in his left lower cheek. Hermione quickly got out from under the invisibility cloak, and yanked out the arrow. This only caused Draco to howl louder.
"Shh! You've got to keep quiet! Filch is going to come back if you don't!" Hermione whispered desperately, taking off the cloak to keep it from being bloodied. Draco wouldn't stop yelping. She quickly reached for her wand and said clearly, "Silencius Temporare!"
Immediately Draco's voice was barely audible. Hermione looked down at the cloak. Harry was going to kill her when he saw the hole the arrow left. She tried a common sewing spell, but the damage wasn't totally healed. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. *Better than nothing.*
Draco lay on the ground, clutching his bottom and shouting about his ass. Hermione had read about this. . .puncture wounds. . .there had to be something. . .couldn't take him to Madame Pomfrey. . .too much to explain. . .oh yes! There was a spell for it!
She knelt down next to Draco, and smoothed her hand comfortingly over his brow. "I know what to do, if you'll let me." She said in a whisper. "But it'll require you to remove those pants." *Not that I'd mind.* Hermione thought. Then she shook her head. *That was wrong! Very wrong!* She reproached herself. *Eh, who cares!*
Draco nodded his understanding, and with great difficulty, rose, turned around, undid the buckle and dropped his trousers. There, staring Hermione in the face, was the brightest moon she had seen in her life.
She smiled to herself as she examined the wound, perhaps a little longer than necessary. After all, this was a once in a lifetime occurrence. She might as well savor it. With a small poke of her wand, Hermione said the words "Posteriorus Anipunctori."
The wound slowly healed. Draco began to straighten himself, and his muffled moans were beginning to cease.
"Are you done?" He said, slightly louder than his dirges had been before. The silencing spell was beginning to wear off.
Hermione smiled. "Just enjoying the view. You should know. . ."
Draco smirked sarcastically. "Hope you enjoyed it. This will not happen again." He tried to kneel, still in a bit of pain, and managed to pick his pants up.
Hermione tried to gain a peek at the front end of the young man, but failed. With an 'aww shucks' look to her face, she continued in her advice. "You should know that the healing process will take about 3 days. So classroom seats, beds, brooms. . .they're going to be a bit more uncomfortable."
"You only did that so Slytherin would lose this Friday." He said, half angrily, half tauntingly.
Hermione shrugged. "Would have happened anyway. Harry is the best Seeker."
Draco scowled. "Let's get back. It's been a long evening."
Hermione fixed her clothes and grabbed the invisibility cloak. The two of them walked as fast as they could back to the castle, Draco's new limp especially prominent climbing the stairs.
Hermione walked with Draco to the Slytherin common room entrance. "This way they won't see you walking around." She whispered. He got out from under the cloak and walked to the portrait on the wall. Hermione quickly grabbed his hand. "Wait." She pulled him back, and gave him a deep kiss. When she let go, he still had his eyes closed, and it seemed he was muttering something indistinct under his breath. "Well, goodnight." Hermione wrapped herself in the cloak and disappeared, her footsteps heard going down the hall.
Draco leaned his head against the portrait. *She's a Mudblood. She's a Mudblood. She's a filthy fucking Mudblood.*
"Excuse me, young sir, but I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly get off my canvas and get on with the password." The shrewd looking hook nosed man, neck wrapped tightly in an Elizabethan collar, glared down at him menacingly.
"Badminton." He muttered, keeping his head down, trying to get the thoughts of Hermione out of his head. The portrait swung open, and he climbed inside, wearily pulling the door closed from inside. In his hand he still had the green Quidditch robes. He held them up to his nose. They smelled like her-- lavender and sunflowers. Again his mind surged with thoughts of her, quickly followed by his 'Mudblood' mantra.
All he wanted was to get to bed. He limped around slowly. And came face to face with an angry Pansy Parkinson.
"And just where have you been, Draco Darling?"