Disclaimer: Okay, I may have a job now, but I promise you it is not a lucrative one. Please don't sue me. Harry Potter is all JK Rowling's and Warner Brothers'. Certainly not mine.
Long Chapter, Long Author's Notes.
Thanks to Jennifer for her fast and fantastic work yet again.
Thanks to the great reviewers: Alie , Serpena (aww... You are too kind!), Blanche Dubois (hope you like this chapter!), and Iyaka Nari.
OOTP
So, my fanfiction is officially AU. I won't give away spoilers, and I won't be changing anything. It's not too bad though. That's the beauty of writing a Draco/Hermione fic that focuses more on Hermione's POV than Harry's... You never really know... Some of this could be canon...
Alright, so... DSOL, Chapter 7. This chapter, I feel, needs a little warning from me beforehand. First of all, I have submitted to your requests for more smut. Hah. Smut's a strong word. Let's just say... More action. I hope it is up to par...
Next... Hermione's... actions in this chapter... *Heavy sigh*. I don't think many of you will like what happens. But I do feel that what happens in this chapter is necessary for her development as a dark character and, as a result, to the plot itself. I have attempted to mix the appropriate amount of angst and remorse in with her other feelings on the matter, but I'm not sure that it will ever be quite right.
Please review and let me know what you think.
So, without further ado, the long awaited Chapter 7 - Enjoy!
~~~~
"When a wizard goes over to the dark side there's nothin', and no one matters to 'em anymore."
-Hagrid
Dumbledore sighed, shifting the Remembrall he was holding to his other hand. He had told Ron that a decision would be reached by Monday, concerning his proposal about becoming a Death Eater. Although it was still only Saturday, he could not help but feel ill at ease.
Avery and Snape had immediately agreed to Ron's idea and Sirius had grudgingly assented shortly after the proposal had been brought to his attention. Snape had volunteered to train Ron, although the sneer on his face suggested that six years of annoyance had not been forgotten in Ron's recent heroism. If Snape trained Ron, he would be ready. Severus Snape would put him through hell.
But they were working within a limited timeframe. Ron would have to demonstrate his switch in loyalties, and do so in a believable manner. Due to his use of Harry's invisibility cloak the past few months, fewer of Voldemort's followers would realize just how passionately he supported Dumbledore. The possibility still existed, however, that Ron's true intentions would be discovered. Ron would have to prove his loyalty to Voldemort beyond a shadow of a doubt, and within a limited amount of time. Death Eater initiations for students would be occurring in the next few weeks. Even with Severus' hard work, Dumbledore was not sure that Ron would be ready.
And he would never send Ron into a deathtrap like that unless he was much more than ready.
Another large concern of the Headmaster's was the situation with Ron's companions. Hermione was fast losing her loyalty to their side, from what Dumbledore had deduced, and Harry….
Oh, Harry. For his entire life, Harry Potter had had a secret guardian, constantly watching him and protecting him from any evil he possibly could. Albus Dumbledore had safeguarded him from the moment of his parents' deaths. And now… Now, Dumbledore had failed to protect him. Now the boy was suffering. And he had no idea why. But he had a good idea as to who was behind the ordeal.
Dumbledore sighed again. The sting of pain that came with the realization that he had failed Harry did not lessen with the knowledge that Harry didn't know he had failed.
He carefully set down the Remembrall and buried his face in his hands, leaning heavily on his desk. An exhausted Fawkes arrived quickly at his seemingly continual perch on Dumbledore's shoulder, but as had been the case for the past few days, neither his presence nor his song made much of a difference.
***
Ron's plans for Hogsmeade would not work out as well as he'd hoped. He knew that all would not be forgotten as soon as she'd swept into the common room and announced, yawning, that she was ready if they still wanted to go. She had become distant and withdrawn again, in these last few days.
At least now he knew who to blame it on.
That stupid, evil, git. Of course he was the one pulling Hermione down. Of course he was behind it.
Oh Merlin… But Hermione? And Malfoy?
Throughout his earlier years at Hogwarts, when he had been in love with Hermione, many other students had occurred to Ron as competition for her love. He'd found flaws with every last one of them - reasons that they would be wrong for her - not even sparing his best friend.
But Draco Malfoy had never even crossed his mind.
Obviously, he was wrong for her. Combining every other boy's flaws wouldn't even compare to the multitude of reasons why Malfoy didn't deserve Hermione.
The last two days had been quite an endurance test for Ron.
He had thought that not knowing where she was going after curfew was bad. Now, he almost wished for ignorance. And he almost wanted her to come back crying one night, so that he would have an excuse to destroy Malfoy.
He watched her stroll towards the portrait hole following his confirmation that him and Harry did still want to go. When Harry failed to react, Ron tugged on his sleeve, rising to his feet.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder, managed a weak smile at the two of them, and stepped through the portrait hole.
***
Now that Saturday had arrived, Hermione wished that she had not agreed to the Hogsmeade trip so quickly. She would much rather have spent the day in the library, or in her room, reading over some of the newer materials Draco had given her.
On second thought… the Charms classroom would have been a lovely place to spend the day as well. She stifled a giggle and thought back to why neither of these options were available to her.
She had been arguing with Ron… And at his mention of Harry's…. illness… She had felt a sudden wave of guilt and not paid particularly close attention to the rest of Ron's babble. She had heard "Hogsmeade", "weekend" and "three of us" and then she had found those intense, steel blue eyes in the crowd and everything else had been forgotten. Even her guilt had melted away at his words.
She exited the Great Hall quietly, propped herself up against a wall and waited. She didn't have to wait long.
"Draco."
He looked rather distracted but managed a weak smile. "What's wrong?"
She sighed. "Well, I… Ron…Oh, I don't know. I feel guilty. I don't think I'm really okay with what you're doing to Harry. God, Draco. Why? Why are you doing this? How can you hurt him… hurt me... like that?"
Draco shook his head in utter amazement. "I thought I saw that stupid git talking to you. Well, yelling, blushing and choking on pumpkin juice are more appropriate descriptions of what I saw. Hermione, Hermione… That conscience of yours… This is none of your concern. You have nothing to do with this."
She sighed, willing back tears and anger and stepped closer to him, her eyes blazing and her teeth grinding. "You… didn't…answer…my…question…"
Draco tried not to smile at her anger. He sighed. "I can't. I'm sorry. I can't tell you. I can't talk about this with you. But Hermione… You mustn't concentrate on Harry. Where was he last year, when you needed him? For that matter, where was Ron? Where is Ron? Still doesn't make an effort, does he? And where am I? Where am I every spare waking moment… or for that matter, every dreaming moment? Where am I every time you need me?"
She waited for him to say more. When he didn't, she realized he was awaiting her response. She swallowed. "You're… You're with me…"
If he hadn't known what her answer would be, he wouldn't have heard it; her voice had dropped to a volume entirely too low, especially for her. He nodded and pulled her closer to him, smiling as her wild hair tickled his nose. She tilted her face up towards him, watching him.
He met her stare with one of his own, and smiled down at her.
It was at that moment, when Draco was holding her so closely, so tenderly, outside of the Great Hall, where they could be caught any minute… When he was risking his pureblood, Slytherin reputation… It was at that moment that she realized how much he did love her… and that neither Ron nor Harry had or would ever love her this much.
It was at that moment that her loyalties solidified.
***
Harry sighed again. After far too much time spent in Honeydukes and a lengthy, heated discussion between his two companions in The Three Broomsticks, all Harry wanted was a stop in Hogsmeade's Quidditch shop, Snitch and Snatch. He had been agonizing over his lost shopping time the entire trip.
He coughed, but failed to interrupt the still-arguing pair.
"Ron."
After a few minutes of being ignored, he decided to try a more forceful approach. He grabbed the back of Ron's robes, effectively spinning him around and shutting him up.
"Ron, I'm going in there now," he gestured towards the shop. "It's only open for another hour."
Ron opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it, quickly glancing back and forth between a frustrated Harry and a bored Hermione, who was currently examining her fingernails.
He cleared his throat. "I've got to get back. Hermione, will you stay?"
His pleading tone was oddly incongruent with the glare that accompanied it.
She sighed, kicked some dirt and nodded. Harry fled towards the Quidditch store, yelling something about an hour.
***
'Well at least I won't have to listen to any more of his rubbish tonight' Hermione thought grimly as she watched Ron jog from Hogsmeade.
She had made the mistake of picking up a green, sour-apple sugar quill in Honeydukes, and Ron had exploded. Before she even realized what had happened, and what he knew, he was railing on about her penchant for Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, the Dark Arts, and had finally began to refer to some mythical relationship she likely had with Voldemort before she had had enough. The arguing hadn't ceased until he finally trotted from the village.
She wasn't sure how he had found out about her, Draco, and the Dark Arts, and she really couldn't believe he had turned it into such an ordeal.
Hermione yawned after several trips around the store. It was already quite late. Snitch and Snatch didn't close for another twenty minutes, and she had run out of things to look at. Harry didn't seem to be having any problems. She was sure that she should have been back at school by now, but she couldn't very well leave him to find his way back alone, not in his current state of mind.
She decided to take a little stroll up to the shrieking shack, in the meantime.
The city was oddly quiet for a Saturday night, but for some reason, this didn't frighten her. Once there, she walked carefully around the little building, cloaked in the darkness of its shadows, remembering Remus Lupin's effects on the inside… Remembering how scared they had been when they had first met Sirius there.
She smiled. If only they had known what a harmless little puppy dog he was. As she reflected on this, she almost didn't hear the rustle behind her. Almost…
She spun around just as her attacker was raising his wand.
She knew she was under the Imperious, by the light, easygoing feeling in her brain. That was okay, she had worked on fighting it…first with Crouch Jr. and then with Draco. She began to think about how odd it was that such supposedly dark wizards had taught her such an important defense.
And then her common sense kicked in.
She had to get out of this situation. She looked up at the man attempting to control her. She couldn't see his face… only a shadowy nose under his hood.
"Turn and follow me from the city, calmly. Do not attract any attention. Do not make any noise. Just walk."
She felt her legs beginning to move and she let them. She wondered if she would be able to fight the Imperius while pretending to comply with it. She doubted it. She abruptly stopped moving, causing immense pain in the legs that had tried to keep walking, and pulled out her wand.
With a few choice words and some beautiful bright green light, the man collapsed on the ground and Hermione felt his control over her die with him.
It took a few moments for her to realize what she had done. It sunk in when she had already started running.
She passed a very bewildered Harry outside of the now-closed store in her run from Hogsmeade without noticing his presence. He sighed and followed her back to Hogwarts.
***
Ron paced nervously in front of the gargoyle which hid the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember the password. He strained his memory, thinking over what McGonnagal had spoken to the gargoyle two nights ago, but it was in vain.
He sighed. He had no particular urge to interrupt his head of house after curfew on a weekend… And it wasn't really that important that he spoke with Dumbledore tonight. He just needed to feel somewhat justified after his arguments with Hermione.
She had denied any interactions with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But Ron was concentrating more on what she hadn't denied. She had ignored his accusations about both Draco Malfoy and the Dark Arts. And when he had tried to bring them into the argument, she had fumed on about how he could ever expect her to work for Vol- He-… Oh, hell. Voldemort.
She was very good at avoiding those two questions, each time adding a little dig at him in her response, so as to draw his attention from the subject at hand. Although it worked at the time, Ron had realized what was going on. He wasn't entirely thick.
But… If she wasn't siding with Voldemort… Then perhaps Hermione wasn't entirely evil. She had been very passionately against him in all of her speech, come to think of it.
This made little sense to Ron. If one is going to embrace the Dark Arts, then one is embracing evil. And if one embraces evil, how can one reject the king of evil himself?
And yet date the prince of evil at the same time?
***
She had never seen him angry before. She had always thought, in those years of name-calling and mutual torment, that he had been moved to anger on occasion. She realized now that she was wrong.
"WHAT?"
She swallowed hard, tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear and brushed away a few of her most recent tears. She began pacing as she spoke. "I… I had to… I mean… I suppose I could have… But I was scared… and defending myself… and oh, god… he was going to… I don't know… but nothing good… Draco, do you think I'll have to go to Azkaban?"
Her voice had become shrill. He turned away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and sighed. She heard him sigh several more times. Maybe he was just breathing heavily. She couldn't tell.
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She bit her lip. "No… I'm fine… But I mean… I think he-"
Draco held up his hand to stop her and turned around. His eyes had a very pained look in them. He moved forward and pulled her to him by her elbows.
"You're fine? You're sure?" He spoke in a whisper.
She nodded.
He squinted. "The son of a bitch is lucky that I wasn't there. He would have wished for his death. He would have thanked you for putting an end to the pain that I would have delivered to that - "
This seemed to send his thoughts into a spiral of obscenities centered on her attacker, and what exactly Draco would have done to him. He had pulled away from her now, was shaking his head and angrily pacing, cursing quietly every few steps.
"Draco?"
He stopped his cursing and his pacing and met her eyes.
"I'm glad that you care."
This was definitely the wrong thing to say. His face contorted into an odd expression at first, as if he was fighting with bashful self-appreciation and angry embarrassment. Finally, cold indifference managed its way to the front lines.
He shrugged his shoulders, glanced at his feet and met her eyes again, his now icy and reserved. "I could lose a lot too, you know, in a situation like this. I know how you Gryffindors like to talk."
She wanted to either slap him or leave. But she realized, for the umpteenth time since the arrangement had first been reached, that Draco was complicated and it was best to simply leave things like they were. She rolled her eyes and forced a grin.
"Right. And like you Slytherins don't love to mouth off."
His face broke into a grudging smile and he approached her again. He sighed. "No…erm… snogging tonight. I think you've been through enough today. But we can talk or work on some new spells if you want, although…I suppose now you don't really need to know anything else, if you can perform that one."
She blushed but shook her head. "There's still so much I don't know. I really want to look into the magical theory behind some of this… and I'm sure the history is fascinating."
Her eyes had taken on the excited glint she got when learning. Draco smiled. "Alright Hermione. Let's get started."
***
Harry wasn't sure how he reached the Gryffindor portrait hole. He didn't exactly remember. He remembered Snitch and Snatch, and he remembered Hermione and that was about it.
He sighed. He really did miss her. And for some reason, every time he thought of her now, a memory tickled the back of his mind. He couldn't place it. He couldn't even focus on it. It was more like waking up from a dream and not remembering what it was about. All he could piece together was Hermione and feelings of hurt and betrayal… No, not betrayal exactly… More like….
Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, glancing at a silent, expectant Fat Lady. He couldn't remember the password and his attempts, once again, to dissect the Hermione memory were not going to get him into the tower. When he had almost resigned himself to a night outside, the Fat Lady sighed.
"Now, now my dear. You aren't doing well, are you? Get some sleep." The portrait swung open, and Harry, a little surprised at her blatant disregard for Hogwarts' rules, stumbled through.
After making his way to his dormitory and disrobing, he climbed into bed, trying to remember what he had been thinking about before the Fat Lady had let him in.
In spite of his fear of nightmares, he felt himself slipping into sleep and he allowed it to happen. Although the last few nights of solid, dreamless sleep had done him good, his exhaustion was still too much to bear.
He had almost fallen asleep - almost - when he remembered what he had seen in the corridor so many weeks ago. Suddenly his emotions made sense. Suddenly, the constant bickering in Hogsmeade made sense. Ron knew, too.
Harry struggled to fight the sleep that was quickly overcoming him - he had to find Hermione, he had to tell her how he really felt … He had to tell her that he loved her, that he always had, and that nothing mattered unless it was her. Surely, she would respond in kind. Surely, she would leave Draco Malfoy for him.
But the sleep came then, before he could rise or speak, engulfing his vision and his thoughts in quiet darkness.
***
Ron sat quietly by the fire in the common room the following day, not entirely intent on attending dinner. Sunday had been uneventful, to say the least. Hermione had studiously avoided him all day, which was alright as he hadn't been in the mood for a confrontation. He had been thinking.
He had been thinking about the slow destruction of their friendship.
He had been thinking about Harry's lack of memory and focus.
He had been thinking about Harry's nightmares.
He had been thinking about Hermione's relationship with Draco.
He had been thinking about Hermione's thirst for learning.
He had been thinking about what Dumbledore had said.
He had been thinking about what Hermione had said.
He had been thinking that he shouldn't have told Dumbledore anything.
And now… Now he was thinking about what he had told Dumbledore. Now he was thinking not only of Hermione's story, or Harry's problems, but of his own offer. Now he was thinking that it wasn't exactly the best idea he had ever had.
And tomorrow he would find out if Dumbledore agreed.
***
Hermione yawned and glanced out the window next to her bed, her hopeful eyes searching yet again for an owl from Draco. He had cancelled their meeting tonight, and she had sent him a return owl, begging him for at least a short meeting. She had even offered a change of location. She had suggested sneaking into the library. She thought that perhaps some nostalgia would do them good.
He had not responded.
Despondently, she sighed and gathered some scrolls. She couldn't sit here, sadly staring out the window and waiting for an answer that would never come. She had to get out of here. She had been trapped in her room all day with her thoughts and guilt over last night's events. The scene in Hogsmeade determinedly repeated itself in her mind. She had stopped crying about it hours ago, but it didn't make her feel any less… horrible.
What was worse was that part of her didn't feel bad about what happened. Part of her was proud of the fact that she had been powerful enough to perform the spell. Part of her liked the way that power felt when she had exercised it. Part of her… part of her wouldn't mind using that particular spell again sometime.
She decided that it was time to visit the Restricted Section again.
She made it to the library easily. The past few months of sneaking out to meet Draco had prepared her well. The wards protecting it from late-night visitors were not exactly complicated either. She supposed they were really there for first and second years. Quietly, she strolled towards the red rope in the back, walking only in the shadows of the bookcases.
After confidently (and perhaps a bit arrogantly) setting down her materials on the main table of the Restricted Section and lighting a small bluebell flame for reading light, she turned to the section on the History of the Dark Arts.
She certainly didn't expect to find Draco Malfoy staring back at her.
***
"Hello, Hermione."
She gasped, attempting to step back and instead bumping into the table she had just turned from. "D-Draco? I … I thought you said…. You said tonight was off…"
He smiled and stepped towards her, closing the space between them. She could feel his breath on her neck. "Oh… But your owl was so… convincing…"
He smiled and pulled back, enjoying the way she had reacted to his whisper. She was leaning towards him a bit now, he was sure it was subconscious, and her eyes were slightly more closed. When she didn't formulate a response, he reached a hand up to her hair and toyed with the thick, wild, curls. "I only cancelled so that you could have… a night off… I hate to take up all of your time… And after you spent this Saturday with the not-so-dynamic duo, I thought you might still want to catch up with them. Perhaps they inspired some nostalgia for days of old in you?"
Hermione returned to the waking world with a wrinkled nose and a shake of her head. Her hairs were still standing on end from his breath caressing her skin, and she didn't trust herself to speak. She wasn't sure what would happen if he moved any closer. As if he could read her mind, he stepped towards her again. Before she could decide how to react, he leaned forward, past her, and extinguished her bluebell flame. She could now only see him in the few bands of moonlight that crept their way into the darkened, windowless, Restricted Section. His hair acted as a reflector to it, providing them with a little more light.
As she was contemplating how good it would feel to touch that reflective hair, he closed the last bit of space between the two of them, pressing his body against hers, and found her lips with his. Oh, Merlin, did that feel amazing…me
When they pulled away for air, his lips contorted into a smirk. He cleared his throat and leaned towards her to whisper in her ear again.
"Are you ready?"
She didn't have to ask for what. His body had already told her. She knew hers would respond willingly. The only thing holding her back was…
What was holding her back? She loved him. She wanted him.
She let out a deep breath and bit her lip. She had been through so many inner struggles and contemplation over the matter of sex. Her morals reflecting it had changed so many times, but with each new decision came a new clear, logical stance of how and why she should or should not.
But now, here, every ounce of logic in her had fled. This was not a removed, indifferent situation.
She took a deep breath and met his eyes, which had been carefully fastened on her since his question.
"I… have you done this before?"
Draco's cheeks flushed a little, but he maintained her gaze. "Well… no."
She tried to hide her relieved smile, but she was sure that he had caught it.
She was still processing this new information when he leaned forward and began kissing her again, still thinking it over when his body pressed into hers, demanding access.
But once his hands began to explore her body, once her robes were flung open and her skirt was pushed up… Once he had her propped up on the library table… just as he had the first time they'd kissed… Hermione could no longer think of anything except how much she wanted him.
