A/N- This chapter was so much fun to write! Especially since I had my own
"Draco" in mind! ::evil grin:: Oh I'm so bad! LMAO!
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The only sound to be heard on the second floor corridor was the snoring of one rather rotund looking goblin in a gilt-framed portrait. The coats of armor were well into their silence, and the only one who noticed the moving figure down the hall was a wee scared mouse. Hermione walked down the dark corridor. She had become quite familiar with this route after the past three and a half weeks, sneaking off to meet up with Draco Malfoy.
It was an odd polarity with him nowadays. During the day he would be the old Malfoy, mean and nasty, with his acid-tipped tongue. But somehow she noticed a difference in him. There was a look in his eyes she couldn't quite figure out, almost like a pulling between two emotions. He still called her a Mudblood, but with less frequency, and a touch more of a softness to the word. Not that it bothered her. Okay, perhaps it did. But she knew he was only doing it to keep attention away from them. It was all an act; she was sure of it.
Sure of it because, at night, he was so different. Draco Malfoy would meet her in the corridor, looking dapper as usual, and escort her somewhere where Filch and Mrs. Norris would not find them. He'd shower her with compliments, and most of the time they would just talk, nothing more. That was becoming increasingly more difficult though, Hermione realized, since she had begun to daydream about Draco more often. And not proper daydreams at all. Hermione blushed at the thought. A little while longer and she might lose total self-control. She had already lost control of her quill in potions. She'd started to drop it nearly everyday, sometimes more than once. Hermione looked like a klutz to her friends, but Draco always saw the signals.
Her friends. . . Harry and Ron were getting a bit much for Hermione to handle too. Harry had just about stopped speaking to Hermione after their little tiff in Hogsmeade. Now the most she ever got from him was "Please pass the pumpkin juice," and the occasional suspicious glance. She could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. He was trying to figure her out, what she was up to, what the secret was. And she knew it. And it scared her. She didn't want to lose what she had so far.
And she had Ron. Hermione liked Ron, she really did. But where Harry didn't speak at all, Ron couldn't ever stop. He would talk to her about everything under the sun, mostly the inane, mostly him speaking. The most she'd ever been able to contribute to the conversations were an "uh huh" and the occasional "I see". When she'd say she had to go, Ron would look down heartened. But, thank Merlin, he never asked her where she was going.
Hermione turned a corner on the corridor quickly, and crashed into something large and solid. She tipped backwards and landed on the floor.
"Hermione?" There was a whisper. It was answered by her whimper. The figure knelt down next to her, and in the torchlight, she saw those blue-gray eyes. Her stomach fluttered. "Are you alright, Hermione?"
She smiled up at him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just hurt my bum a bit."
Draco shot an evil grinned back. "I could rub it and make it feel better." His hands moved to help her up, and he lifted her with ease. He lightly tapped her bottom, sent her a smirk, and began leading her down the hallway to an unknown destination.
"I swear, you're horrible sometimes!" Hermione let out a slightly flirty giggle. "Although I suppose you can't quite help it."
A confused glare was sent her way. "What do you mean? I can't quite help being horrible?"
"No. . .no it's just that, well, with who you were brought up with and all, must've affected your sense of humour and you actions and all that, and. . ."
"Are you saying that my family ruined me somehow?"
"Well, no. . .not quite. . ."
"Because you don't know enough about my family to make such accusations." Draco was suddenly walking very rigid. Hermione felt the tenseness of the muscles in his arm as she lay her hand there.
"So then tell me about your family." She said softly, trying to placate him.
Draco stopped and looked at her. Surely she would have heard about the illustrious Malfoy line. Nearly all the wizarding families in England knew of them. Then again, she was a Mudblood. She probably hadn't read a book on them yet. . .although she had taken out quite a few books in her day. Yes, Draco decided, she should know about his line, and why he was the way he was. He was pretty sure it wouldn't hurt the plan at all.
"My family, the Malfoy line, can be traced back directly through seventeen centuries. We have relations to Merlin himself, to Morgan le Fay, to Druid kings in England and France. My family has altered history itself, and left an impression, whether accurate or not, that can still be seen today. It's something to be proud of. Something I should be proud of. Something I have to live up to. This family name is something more than a word. It's an honour. And it's been bestowed on me." Dear Lord, he sounded like his father. Draco raised his chin.
Hermione looked up at him, in his crisp midnight blue shirt. He was from great people, and he looked great. But then why wasn't his family acting like that now? Now she tread on dangerous ground. "So what of your family now? Azkaban isn't exactly the place where proper witches and wizards go. . ."
Draco shot his eyes down to her. This time the blue-gray was cold as steel, and he stressed every sentence like the sweep of an axe. "I want to make something very clear to you, and you let it be known to everyone. My father was a good father. He was a great man. And he should not be where he is today. He should be at home. Where he belongs. Do you understand? My dad should be home."
Hermione, somewhat shocked and afraid, nodded slightly and softly replied. "Yes, Draco."
"He was though." Draco looked toward to opposite was, unfocused and dazed. "He was a good man. He always treated me well, and cared for me like I was the only thing that was important to him. Anything for my happiness, he did it. He expected the best from me. Always expected the best. Because he gave me the best. And now we could lose him. And he shouldn't be lost. Not like that. Not to that place. He. . .he was a good man." Draco began to choke up.
Hermione looked up at him with sad eyes. She knew how upset she would be if she were in his position. Reaching up, her hand met his cheek. It was the most tender thing he had felt in his life. "Oh Draco, you miss him, don't you? You miss your father."
Draco looked down at her and let one tear fall. In the most honest reply, he just nodded.
Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck and hugged him. His hands went around her waist, and he buried his face in her shoulder and wept. It was the most remarkable thing Hermione could ever imagine happening. Draco Malfoy actually crying. With a Mudblood. She lifted her right hand to stroke the back of his head comfortingly.
After a few minutes the sobs silenced. He wouldn't let go of her though. Suddenly she felt him start to lightly kiss her neck, up her neck, over the curve of her chin, till his lips met hers. Their tongues danced, and Hermione closed her eyes in bliss. He pulled away from her, studying her face, her throat, her features. Something was missing. A shiver went down her spine, and his left hand gripped her right wrist from behind his head. He pulled it in front of him, holding it tightly. Too tightly.
"Where's the necklace?" He hoarsed out brusquely. "I don't see the necklace. Where is it?"
"I. . .I have it. Here." Hermione reached up with her free hand and lifted the hanging of the necklace free from the confines of her shirt. The bright blue dazzled in the torch light of the empty hall.
Draco eyed it with contentment. Without another word, he dropped his head down to the front dip of her neck, freeing Hermione's hand. She gasped as he once again began kissing down further, further, lifting the hem of her shirt up and over her head. The world was a distant place, and she was lost in the sensations he was providing. . .
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"That's enough, Mr. Creevey. You may go. But let's remember that flash photography is not beneficial to Quidditch teachers who are trying to fly." Madame Hooch said sternly to the little boy as he walked out of the Quidditch Equipment room. That little one nearly killed her when he flashed a picture and blinded her, sending her straight into three bushes, a tree branch and one rather uncomfortable poke from a picket fence. The boy had spent his subsequent detention polishing every quaffle and snitch in the equipment room. She would have let lose the bludgers, but that would have just been cruel.
The small Gryffindor was walking back down the silent corridors, neck heavy with the camera swinging from it. The lack of light was evident from the tall windows on the hallway, and there was that fat goblin, snoring as usual in his gilt-framed painting.
But he heard something. Sounded like a wheeze. He looked over at the goblin's portrait. Nope, still asleep. This was something different. He heard the sound again, this time with a grunt. Nope, this was definitely not the goblin. This was around the corner of the corridor.
*Oh boy! It's just like one of Harry Potter's adventures! I wonder what it is! Maybe it's a secret! Maybe it's an animal of some sort!* He heard another moan, unquestionably animalistic. It had to be an unknown species! Colin grinned to himself and fingered his camera. *Wait till Harry sees this! He's not going to believe it! I, Colin Creevey, will be famous for my discovery!* He began to tip toe down to the corner, raising the camera to his eye, finger tensely waiting for the right moment to turn. . .the. . .corner. . .and. . .
Colin jumped the corner and gasped. His shocked hands shook, and the button was pressed on the camera.
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::FLASH::
Draco and Hermione pulled their lips away from each other. Hermione turned confused toward the burst of light. Another flash. Then she saw him.
Little Gryffindor Colin Creevey standing at the end of the corridor, eyes wide, mouth agape, fingers clinging tightly to his camera.
"Colin!" Hermione shouted in surprise, pushing back from Draco and hurriedly pulling down her shirt and skirt, absentmindedly flicking Draco's hand off her thigh. Draco's eyes shot down to the end of the hallway, and met with Colin's.
The little blonde boy gave an even louder gasp, seeing the enemy of enemies to the Gryffindor house. Again his hand shook, accidentally pressing the button again, and the shutter clicked and there was another flash. With a petrified peep, the boy straightened up and ran like hell back down the corridor, hoping to find another route back to Gryffindor Tower.
*Well this is an interesting turn of events.* Draco thought to himself, satisfyingly zipping up his school trousers and re-buckling his belt. He looked back at Hermione, who was frantically trying to button up her shirt the correct way. She looked up at him, letting her arms flop to her sides and let out a frustrated whine.
"He got pictures, Draco! Pictures! They'll be around school in no time!"
Draco frowned and shook his head in mock disappointment. But inside he was overjoyed. His plan just got a whole lot easier.
"What do we do!? What do we say!? How do we stop them!?" She looked at him pleadingly. The all-knowing prefect did not know the answer now. She waited for his reply.
Draco calmly put his hand up. "You don't have to do anything. Let me handle it. After all, he'll listen to me. I'm Draco Malfoy, remember? I can scare more under-years out of their pocket money." He noted a flash of cognition in her eyes, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
"Thank you, Draco." She said somewhat more composed.
He shrugged. "The benefits of associating with me. This will all be handled by tomorrow morning. You just go to bed, get some rest. I'll try to find that kid."
Hermione smiled, satisfied that he had everything under control, and reached up to get a quick kiss. Her lips were soft, different from Pansy's, he noted, watching her hips sway slightly as she walked away.
He casually placed his hands in his pockets and turned down the opposite direction, striding coolly down the hallway. What, did Hermione honestly believe he would go chasing after a little shit of a child? For something that was only going to help him? No, he had better things to do. Like sleep.
And plan how he intended to handle the ensuing chaos.
Draco smirked as he muttered the password to the Slytherin entrance and strode inside. He quickly changed out of his clothes and into his pajamas. Granted, he had been the one to make the moves tonight, but it was because she made him feel like he was losing control. She made him cry, for fuck's sake! He was whimpering like a pricked puppy! He had to assert himself as a man somehow. That's why he went for her like that. . .that's why. . .it had to be. . .
Draco reassured himself as he lay down in bed. He couldn't worry about all that now. Now he needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be a very big day.
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The only sound to be heard on the second floor corridor was the snoring of one rather rotund looking goblin in a gilt-framed portrait. The coats of armor were well into their silence, and the only one who noticed the moving figure down the hall was a wee scared mouse. Hermione walked down the dark corridor. She had become quite familiar with this route after the past three and a half weeks, sneaking off to meet up with Draco Malfoy.
It was an odd polarity with him nowadays. During the day he would be the old Malfoy, mean and nasty, with his acid-tipped tongue. But somehow she noticed a difference in him. There was a look in his eyes she couldn't quite figure out, almost like a pulling between two emotions. He still called her a Mudblood, but with less frequency, and a touch more of a softness to the word. Not that it bothered her. Okay, perhaps it did. But she knew he was only doing it to keep attention away from them. It was all an act; she was sure of it.
Sure of it because, at night, he was so different. Draco Malfoy would meet her in the corridor, looking dapper as usual, and escort her somewhere where Filch and Mrs. Norris would not find them. He'd shower her with compliments, and most of the time they would just talk, nothing more. That was becoming increasingly more difficult though, Hermione realized, since she had begun to daydream about Draco more often. And not proper daydreams at all. Hermione blushed at the thought. A little while longer and she might lose total self-control. She had already lost control of her quill in potions. She'd started to drop it nearly everyday, sometimes more than once. Hermione looked like a klutz to her friends, but Draco always saw the signals.
Her friends. . . Harry and Ron were getting a bit much for Hermione to handle too. Harry had just about stopped speaking to Hermione after their little tiff in Hogsmeade. Now the most she ever got from him was "Please pass the pumpkin juice," and the occasional suspicious glance. She could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. He was trying to figure her out, what she was up to, what the secret was. And she knew it. And it scared her. She didn't want to lose what she had so far.
And she had Ron. Hermione liked Ron, she really did. But where Harry didn't speak at all, Ron couldn't ever stop. He would talk to her about everything under the sun, mostly the inane, mostly him speaking. The most she'd ever been able to contribute to the conversations were an "uh huh" and the occasional "I see". When she'd say she had to go, Ron would look down heartened. But, thank Merlin, he never asked her where she was going.
Hermione turned a corner on the corridor quickly, and crashed into something large and solid. She tipped backwards and landed on the floor.
"Hermione?" There was a whisper. It was answered by her whimper. The figure knelt down next to her, and in the torchlight, she saw those blue-gray eyes. Her stomach fluttered. "Are you alright, Hermione?"
She smiled up at him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just hurt my bum a bit."
Draco shot an evil grinned back. "I could rub it and make it feel better." His hands moved to help her up, and he lifted her with ease. He lightly tapped her bottom, sent her a smirk, and began leading her down the hallway to an unknown destination.
"I swear, you're horrible sometimes!" Hermione let out a slightly flirty giggle. "Although I suppose you can't quite help it."
A confused glare was sent her way. "What do you mean? I can't quite help being horrible?"
"No. . .no it's just that, well, with who you were brought up with and all, must've affected your sense of humour and you actions and all that, and. . ."
"Are you saying that my family ruined me somehow?"
"Well, no. . .not quite. . ."
"Because you don't know enough about my family to make such accusations." Draco was suddenly walking very rigid. Hermione felt the tenseness of the muscles in his arm as she lay her hand there.
"So then tell me about your family." She said softly, trying to placate him.
Draco stopped and looked at her. Surely she would have heard about the illustrious Malfoy line. Nearly all the wizarding families in England knew of them. Then again, she was a Mudblood. She probably hadn't read a book on them yet. . .although she had taken out quite a few books in her day. Yes, Draco decided, she should know about his line, and why he was the way he was. He was pretty sure it wouldn't hurt the plan at all.
"My family, the Malfoy line, can be traced back directly through seventeen centuries. We have relations to Merlin himself, to Morgan le Fay, to Druid kings in England and France. My family has altered history itself, and left an impression, whether accurate or not, that can still be seen today. It's something to be proud of. Something I should be proud of. Something I have to live up to. This family name is something more than a word. It's an honour. And it's been bestowed on me." Dear Lord, he sounded like his father. Draco raised his chin.
Hermione looked up at him, in his crisp midnight blue shirt. He was from great people, and he looked great. But then why wasn't his family acting like that now? Now she tread on dangerous ground. "So what of your family now? Azkaban isn't exactly the place where proper witches and wizards go. . ."
Draco shot his eyes down to her. This time the blue-gray was cold as steel, and he stressed every sentence like the sweep of an axe. "I want to make something very clear to you, and you let it be known to everyone. My father was a good father. He was a great man. And he should not be where he is today. He should be at home. Where he belongs. Do you understand? My dad should be home."
Hermione, somewhat shocked and afraid, nodded slightly and softly replied. "Yes, Draco."
"He was though." Draco looked toward to opposite was, unfocused and dazed. "He was a good man. He always treated me well, and cared for me like I was the only thing that was important to him. Anything for my happiness, he did it. He expected the best from me. Always expected the best. Because he gave me the best. And now we could lose him. And he shouldn't be lost. Not like that. Not to that place. He. . .he was a good man." Draco began to choke up.
Hermione looked up at him with sad eyes. She knew how upset she would be if she were in his position. Reaching up, her hand met his cheek. It was the most tender thing he had felt in his life. "Oh Draco, you miss him, don't you? You miss your father."
Draco looked down at her and let one tear fall. In the most honest reply, he just nodded.
Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck and hugged him. His hands went around her waist, and he buried his face in her shoulder and wept. It was the most remarkable thing Hermione could ever imagine happening. Draco Malfoy actually crying. With a Mudblood. She lifted her right hand to stroke the back of his head comfortingly.
After a few minutes the sobs silenced. He wouldn't let go of her though. Suddenly she felt him start to lightly kiss her neck, up her neck, over the curve of her chin, till his lips met hers. Their tongues danced, and Hermione closed her eyes in bliss. He pulled away from her, studying her face, her throat, her features. Something was missing. A shiver went down her spine, and his left hand gripped her right wrist from behind his head. He pulled it in front of him, holding it tightly. Too tightly.
"Where's the necklace?" He hoarsed out brusquely. "I don't see the necklace. Where is it?"
"I. . .I have it. Here." Hermione reached up with her free hand and lifted the hanging of the necklace free from the confines of her shirt. The bright blue dazzled in the torch light of the empty hall.
Draco eyed it with contentment. Without another word, he dropped his head down to the front dip of her neck, freeing Hermione's hand. She gasped as he once again began kissing down further, further, lifting the hem of her shirt up and over her head. The world was a distant place, and she was lost in the sensations he was providing. . .
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"That's enough, Mr. Creevey. You may go. But let's remember that flash photography is not beneficial to Quidditch teachers who are trying to fly." Madame Hooch said sternly to the little boy as he walked out of the Quidditch Equipment room. That little one nearly killed her when he flashed a picture and blinded her, sending her straight into three bushes, a tree branch and one rather uncomfortable poke from a picket fence. The boy had spent his subsequent detention polishing every quaffle and snitch in the equipment room. She would have let lose the bludgers, but that would have just been cruel.
The small Gryffindor was walking back down the silent corridors, neck heavy with the camera swinging from it. The lack of light was evident from the tall windows on the hallway, and there was that fat goblin, snoring as usual in his gilt-framed painting.
But he heard something. Sounded like a wheeze. He looked over at the goblin's portrait. Nope, still asleep. This was something different. He heard the sound again, this time with a grunt. Nope, this was definitely not the goblin. This was around the corner of the corridor.
*Oh boy! It's just like one of Harry Potter's adventures! I wonder what it is! Maybe it's a secret! Maybe it's an animal of some sort!* He heard another moan, unquestionably animalistic. It had to be an unknown species! Colin grinned to himself and fingered his camera. *Wait till Harry sees this! He's not going to believe it! I, Colin Creevey, will be famous for my discovery!* He began to tip toe down to the corner, raising the camera to his eye, finger tensely waiting for the right moment to turn. . .the. . .corner. . .and. . .
Colin jumped the corner and gasped. His shocked hands shook, and the button was pressed on the camera.
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::FLASH::
Draco and Hermione pulled their lips away from each other. Hermione turned confused toward the burst of light. Another flash. Then she saw him.
Little Gryffindor Colin Creevey standing at the end of the corridor, eyes wide, mouth agape, fingers clinging tightly to his camera.
"Colin!" Hermione shouted in surprise, pushing back from Draco and hurriedly pulling down her shirt and skirt, absentmindedly flicking Draco's hand off her thigh. Draco's eyes shot down to the end of the hallway, and met with Colin's.
The little blonde boy gave an even louder gasp, seeing the enemy of enemies to the Gryffindor house. Again his hand shook, accidentally pressing the button again, and the shutter clicked and there was another flash. With a petrified peep, the boy straightened up and ran like hell back down the corridor, hoping to find another route back to Gryffindor Tower.
*Well this is an interesting turn of events.* Draco thought to himself, satisfyingly zipping up his school trousers and re-buckling his belt. He looked back at Hermione, who was frantically trying to button up her shirt the correct way. She looked up at him, letting her arms flop to her sides and let out a frustrated whine.
"He got pictures, Draco! Pictures! They'll be around school in no time!"
Draco frowned and shook his head in mock disappointment. But inside he was overjoyed. His plan just got a whole lot easier.
"What do we do!? What do we say!? How do we stop them!?" She looked at him pleadingly. The all-knowing prefect did not know the answer now. She waited for his reply.
Draco calmly put his hand up. "You don't have to do anything. Let me handle it. After all, he'll listen to me. I'm Draco Malfoy, remember? I can scare more under-years out of their pocket money." He noted a flash of cognition in her eyes, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
"Thank you, Draco." She said somewhat more composed.
He shrugged. "The benefits of associating with me. This will all be handled by tomorrow morning. You just go to bed, get some rest. I'll try to find that kid."
Hermione smiled, satisfied that he had everything under control, and reached up to get a quick kiss. Her lips were soft, different from Pansy's, he noted, watching her hips sway slightly as she walked away.
He casually placed his hands in his pockets and turned down the opposite direction, striding coolly down the hallway. What, did Hermione honestly believe he would go chasing after a little shit of a child? For something that was only going to help him? No, he had better things to do. Like sleep.
And plan how he intended to handle the ensuing chaos.
Draco smirked as he muttered the password to the Slytherin entrance and strode inside. He quickly changed out of his clothes and into his pajamas. Granted, he had been the one to make the moves tonight, but it was because she made him feel like he was losing control. She made him cry, for fuck's sake! He was whimpering like a pricked puppy! He had to assert himself as a man somehow. That's why he went for her like that. . .that's why. . .it had to be. . .
Draco reassured himself as he lay down in bed. He couldn't worry about all that now. Now he needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be a very big day.