Disclaimer: Bad lawyers bad lawyers - What you gonna do when they come for you? Tell them that you definitely do not own Harry Potter, of course!
Title of Story: When Darkness Catches the Light
Summary: Can two sworn enemies ever find true love in each other? What happens when a seductive mission comes along to prod them in the right direction? Draco/Hermione
Rated: PG-13 for language, angst descriptions and some sexual connotations.
Chapter Nine: The Kiss and a Half
It's gonna burn for me to say this
But it's comin from my heart
It's been a long time coming
But we been fell apart
Really wanna work this out
But I don't think you're gonna change
--Burn, Usher
The walk back to the Gryffindor common room seemed to take an eternity to Hermione.
She had not talked to Ron for the entire walk, her inborn streak of tenacity evidently showing through. The silence was hardly companionable, but Hermione was somewhat frightened to purge it. Ron had his arm placed instinctively around her waist, the gesture that would normally subdue Hermione, but now playing its part to irk her even further.
Hermione could not stop thinking about Malfoy, the way he had been gentle and nice to her one minute, but the next he had been violent and spiteful.
Hermione smiled musingly as she remembered how Malfoy had looked at her when they were talking, the sincerity fleetingly shining in his profound eyes. Even though the earnestness was brief, Hermione could have sworn on her life that it had been prevalent at some point during the night. And it was this thought that had Hermione so confused.
Ron steered Hermione around a corner, but he still maintained his silence. Hermione sighed sadly and felt her eyes close artlessly, sleep starting to claim her into its peaceful depths…
She shook herself out of the daze and felt her arm throb harshly under her sleeve. Hermione winced quietly to herself and rubbed her bruised arm, trying hard not to draw Ron's attention to it.
She recalled the instance when Malfoy had grabbed her arm so mercilessly.
Me and my pathetic jokes, Hermione thought grimly.
Malfoy had look so fearsome, his eyes glinting maliciously and his lips quirked in a sadistic glower. Those beautiful eyes… once so warm and sincere… filled with such innate revulsion…
Hermione trembled at the memory, branded so clearly in her mind. Malfoy had tightened his grip on her slender limb so callously; Hermione had even momentarily thought that he would kill her then and there.
Death.
Hermione felt a cold draught ripple through her body, even though the surrounding night air was still warm. She did not like thinking of death at all, ever since all those close calls with Voldemort in her past six years. She had always thought that her seventh year would be different; most likely safer and happier than the previous years. But when she had seen Malfoy's eyes flash that way… she felt like she had been submerged in the very icy depths of the South Pole…
"Hermione?"
Hermione turned to look at Ron, somewhat alarmed at his abrupt intrusion on her thoughts. He was looking at the ground, scuffing one of his leather shoes with the other, the leather on the surface steadily peeling away. Hermione recognised this gesture immediately; Ron was either embarrassed or scared of something. And Hermione felt she knew the reason why.
"We're here," he continued, indicating the portrait of the Fat Lady.
Hermione nodded, feeling a lump in her throat and began to utter the password, when Ron spoke again.
"What were you doing up at the Astronomy Tower anyway, 'Mione?"
Hermione felt a pang of annoyance at the abbreviation that so many of her friends were now beginning to adopt, but she cast the thought away from her mind.
"Oh, just, well… you know," Hermione managed to stutter, her eyes looking everywhere except Ron's face.
Ron looked up at her, his eyes shining with worry and bewilderment, but Hermione could not bring herself to return his gaze.
"Actually, Hermione, I don't know why you were up there," he urged, the patience in his tone evidently waning.
Hermione sighed and shook her head.
"It's none of you business Ron," she whispered firmly, the words coming out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Hermione widened her eyes, not believing what she had just said, and Ron seemed to be sharing the sentiment.
"What the hell? I saved your arse up there, and now I bloody well have to duel that prat!" Ron hissed, his eyebrows narrowed.
Hermione felt deep anger ignite within her.
"Yeah well, I don't exactly remember asking you to save the bloody day, now did I, Ron?" she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Oh gee, you've seriously got to stop with all the thank-you's Hermione, really, it was nothing," Ron replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Hermione widened her eyes in rage, and she saw Ron step back from her, his eyebrows fused in confusion and fear. Yet this did nothing to douse her temper.
"Ron, you can just go screw yourself, because you most certainly won't be getting any from me."
And with that, Hermione turned sharply around and paced hurriedly toward the Head common room, her eyes brimming with salty moisture.
Draco blasted the jasmine flowers on the Astronomy Tower platform with his wand, expending all the anger he felt within him at that very moment. He hated those white flowers, the epitome of purity and good. He hated how they seemed to sway rhythmically with the breeze, appearing to have not a care in the world…
Draco groaned and kicked the concrete and metal railing of the platform, his foot throbbing with amounting pain. But at that particular moment, Draco did not care.
Why the FUCK did I have to accept the duel? he grimaced to himself.
It would have normally amused Draco, the prospects of finally ridding the world of one Ronald Weasley. But now… it just felt different somehow. Maybe it was the fact that he was Head Boy, and the last thing he wanted was to jeopardise that title. But Draco couldn't help but feel there was indeed another reason for his repulsion at the likelihood of a duel against Weasley…
Draco pulverised the delicate jasmine blossoms into the soil, twisting his shoes ruthlessly into the earth. The smell of the flowers was intoxicating and prompting nausea within Draco. Not to mention the delicate beauty of the flowers was making his eyes very sore indeed…
He groaned with fury and abandoned the flowerbed, instead walking to the middle of the platform and extending his arms to smooth his hair. His hair was still relatively spiky, but the gel seemed to melt with the warmth of his hands… a happenstance that was promised on the jar…
Draco smirked, remembering how Granger had ogled at him the whole night. He knew he was irresistible, even to Granger… but he was surprised that she was succumbing to the temptation of his silver strands and gorgeous eyes. Even though he knew she was still resisting, Draco was confident of an inevitable triumph.
Draco grimaced slightly at the memory of when he had first seen Granger that night. He could not help but admit that she looked ravishing. Every inch of her was absolutely ravishing.
Her mane of hair cascading elegantly down below her shoulders, flowing so freely like a deep, ocean of chocolate. Each strand had caught the moonlight flawlessly, bringing out astonishingly iridescent shades of brown that Draco never even knew existed. The warm, night breeze had thrust the black cloth of her robes to outline her lithe body perfectly… each delectable curve and contour showcased in chaste and elegant beauty.
And then when she had turned around to face him…
Draco groaned at his own weakness; remembering Granger's large, soft eyes. They were almond in shape, always almond. They were a dark hue of brown, so warm and strong that they reminded Draco of coffee and mahogany wood. They had momentarily gazed up at Draco with apparent surprise, the emotion shining clearly in each brilliant orb…
And then the inevitable anger she senses whenever I'm around, Draco winced, shaking his head at the reminiscence.
Granger had looked so plainly infuriated, once she had realised that Draco had come.
And rightly so, Draco thought sadly, as he recalled how he had seized Granger's arm so brutally.
But he knew it was more than justified; how dare she jest so carelessly about a Malfoy like that?! Draco wasn't the least bit remorseful about his callous action, not the least bit.
So why did I apologise?
Draco moved to crouch in a corner of the Astronomy Tower platform, and he buried his hands in his head. He was so confused right now; he knew words could not be strung together to clearly define the emotion he was feeling.
For the first time in his life, Draco was uncertain; uncertain of himself, the mission and Granger herself.
Firstly, he didn't even know why the Dark Lord even wanted Granger to be seduced. What was the point of gaining a Mudblood's trust? She wasn't Pottter, she wasn't Dumbledore, she wasn't even a powerful Ministry official! So what the hell would the Dark Lord want with her? Yet Draco knew the Lord would be angry if he got wind of Draco's mutinous and distrustful thoughts, so Draco shook the thought of his mind.
But he still didn't exactly know how best to gain Granger's trust. Draco couldn't guarantee Granger's safety the next time they had a meeting; who was to say that Draco's inherent feelings of disgust towards Mudbloods wouldn't come to the surface again? He shuddered to think of what he was capable of doing to the beautiful brunette if she ever irked him again…
Draco rubbed his eyes furiously and stretched his legs out in front of him. He leaned his head back on the crevice of the walls and rolled his shoulders, the action instantaneously calming his nerves.
Draco didn't even want to ponder what the Lord would say to him if he were to observe the situation now. The Lord would either be enraged at Draco's folly, or… enraged at Draco's folly. There was only one option, Draco knew. But as a distinctly black-coloured owl made its way over to Draco that night on the platform, he was confident of finding out the Lord's reaction soon enough.
"Students, please take out your wands and remember that the key to conjuring an adult owl is to enunciate the spell. Please pay close attention to rolling the 'r's and emphasising the 'l's."
Professor McGonagall was surveying her HLT (Higher-Level Transfiguration) class with a neutral expression, but when her gaze came over Hermione, she briefly nodded her approval and Hermione could not help but suppress a small grin.
Hermione realised it felt good to actually grin; the past four days – indeed, ever since the Astronomy Tower incident – were mainly spent brooding at the library, resolutely trying to maintain distance from Ron, Harry, Ginny and even Malfoy.
For Hermione's friends were ignoring her.
Hermione suspected Ron to still be sour from her harsh words on that fateful night, and she knew better than to rub salt in his wounds by trying to speak with him too quickly. She was not surprised that Harry had sided with Ron but her best friend Ginny's stance of loyalty to Ron was somewhat more unforeseen, even though they sometimes exchanged brief, reassuring smiles at the Gryffindor breakfast table.
Hermione was grateful to finally get through the plethora of information that she was trying to cram into her brain, as the seventh year NEWT finals were coming up in a few months, and Hermione desperately wanted to achieve high marks in those exams.
She wanted to prove to everyone that, though she was a muggle-born, she still had the ability to attain phenomenally high marks in her NEWT exams. She knew the majority of the student body population didn't care less about the purity of blood, but there was one person at Hogwarts that Hermione most definitely wanted to show up.
"The spell that you will be using today is: Amalda Farne Isse Kirinki," the Professor continued. "It is of ancient Elfish origin, meaning 'tree dwelling knowledge bird'. The complexity of this spell is immense, so I assume that most of you will only attain proficiency after a fair few lessons. Conjuration is a difficult branch of Transfiguration, but no doubt with practise you shall reach some level of skill in this area. You may begin."
Hermione produced elegant quills from her wand by the end of the HLT lesson, yet it was more than what the rest of the class managed to accomplish, so this lifted Hermione's spirits slightly.
Hermione walked out of the HLT classroom with a grin on her face and headed toward the Great Hall for lunch. She had skipped breakfast that morning, waking at four in the morning to send an owl to her mother with the good news of her Headship.
Hermione trembled uncontrollably as the recollection of the morning's events crept into her mind, and she unconsciously passed her hand over her bruised lips and checked every crevice and corridor she passed on the way to the Great Hall, enormously relieved to have not been abducted again that day.
FLASHBACK TO THAT MORNING
Hermione bounded out of her bed that morning, the sky outside still very dim, only vaguely illuminated by the steadily rising sun. She checked her watch and groaned.
4.00am.
She pulled back the covers of her bed, angry with herself for waking up so early. She wanted to wake up early enough to avoid bumping into Malfoy in the Head common room, but even she knew that four o'clock was much, much too early.
Nevertheless, she sighed as she remembered her mother's voice resound in her head again.
The early bird catches the worm… Early to bed, early to rise, makes one healthy, wealthy and wise…
Hermione grimaced as she remembered her mother saying that to her when she was very young. Hermione loved waking up late, the sun shining bright through the windows and heating her bedroom to a comfortable temperature. Yet, if she woke up early like her mother often told her to, her bedroom would be invariably chilly and her eyes would be red and sore.
That was when her mother taught her those age-old muggle proverbs and Hermione could never abscond from hearing her mother's voice in her head every time she craved to wake up late.
Hermione clambered into her robes, the dark material fitting her body very loosely and she fastened the buttons groggily. She swiftly passed a comb through her dark brunette strands, furiously undoing the knots, and tied her hair up into a high, tight ponytail.
After cleaning her face and teeth, Hermione allowed herself a quick look in the mirror and paced stealthily out of her door, walking into the Head common room.
The six chairs in the common room were lined up neatly, three on each side of the room, facing their respective wall. The fire was flickering boisterously, to Hermione's confusion, as it was early in the morning and she could have sworn that she had extinguished the fire she had lit the previous night…
Hermione shook her head out of its confusion, checked her pocket for her quill and inkbottle and moved toward the Head common room door when she heard a cold drawl sourcing from somewhere in the room.
"Going somewhere, Granger?"
Hermione turned around clumsily, alarm bells ringing in her head as she recognised the owner of the voice. Almost in validation to her suspicions, the middle chair on the left-hand side of the room swivelled around, the person sitting on it wearing his trait smirk.
"Malfoy," Hermione hissed, her eyebrows narrowing in disgust.
There Malfoy sat, treating the simple cushioned chair as his throne. His hair was devoid of gel and parted neatly in the centre, the line so straight that Hermione could have sworn that it had been achieved by the flick of a wand and not a by a regular muggle comb. His eyes were somewhat sullen, but still guarded; his lips were mangled in a smirk.
"The one and only," he responded pretentiously, winking at Hermione.
Hermione felt a pang of irritation and surveyed Malfoy with repugnance. She mechanically began tapping her foot, a sign of her growing impatience and she crossed her arms haughtily over her chest.
"Someone's got an attitude problem," Malfoy observed, the amusement evident in his tone.
Hermione narrowed her eyebrows.
"What was that, Malfoy?"
He merely shook his head in response, and stared at his fingernails, passing his thumb delicately over the edges of each nail. Hermione fought to suppress a giggle at his vanity.
"You still haven't answered my question, Granger, so I have no obligation whatsoever to answer yours," Malfoy said simply, raising his eyes to meet Hermione's gaze.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snarled childishly.
Yet to her utmost annoyance, Malfoy only chuckled at this statement.
"My, my, Granger, we do have some anger management issues, don't we?"
Hermione groaned and moved to walk out of the Head common room exit door, when Draco bellowed, "Duplus Securus!"
The door was locked from the inside, not entertaining Hermione's exasperated attempts to open it.
"I would have thought that even you would know that it is bad manners to ignore someone who is merely engaging in polite small talk with you, Granger," Malfoy said simply, as Hermione turned to glare at him.
"You wouldn't even know the meaning of 'manners' and 'polite', now would you, Malfoy?" she said coldly.
"Just because I don't adopt such behaviours myself, doesn't mean I don't expect others to do so on my behalf," Malfoy reproved, wagging his index finger at Hermione.
Hermione paced over to the middle chair on the opposite side of the room and took a seat on it, mumbling something that sounded like, "Him and his bloody double standards."
Hermione then looked up at Malfoy in mock sweetness, smiling at him with such flawless pseudo sincerity that even Malfoy widened his eyes in disbelief.
"Well, what would you like to talk about then, Draco dear?" Hermione cooed, in exact likeness of Pansy Parkinson.
Malfoy fused his eyebrows together, and then rolled his eyes.
"Spare me the idolatry, Granger," he said. "I mean, I know I am the hottest guy on the planet, but seriously, your worship is starting to bog me down."
Hermione sprang from her chair in aggravation, and moved to stand a few inches away from Malfoy. Her eyes were glistening with hatred as she pointed her finger threateningly at him.
"Contrary to your belief, Malfoy," Hermione started, her voice submerged in aversion, "I am not like those other girls who are constantly fawning over you just because they find you mildly attractive. Honestly, I would rather kiss a flobberworm than shower you with genuine admiration."
Malfoy stood abruptly from his chair, moving within two inches distance of Hermione, his eyes flashing hauntingly.
"I never said you were like those other girls," he whispered. "You're much, much better than them."
And he lunged forward and captured Hermione's lips in a merciless kiss. The world began to spin around Hermione, as Malfoy pushed her aggressively against one of the walls in the Head common room, pinning her slender wrists against the purple walls and grinding his body into her own. Hermione let out a whimper as Malfoy moved to launch his tongue into her mouth, the familiar prickling that she had so often felt returning to her. The internal pain was excruciating, teasing all the sanity Hermione held within her, turning it into unbearable insanity. She mustered all the energy she had within her to push Malfoy away and she slapped him hard across the face.
Malfoy staggered under the pressure of the blow, the paleness of the skin on his face now darkening to a scarlet colour. He looked up at Hermione with pain in his eyes, but Hermione felt her own eyes flash menacingly. She clenched her hands into fists, but restrained herself from punching Malfoy or possibly even castrating him. Hermione had never felt such anger within her; it was like her body contained a raucous fire, each flame flickering to ignite a nerve within her, triggering such unadulterated malevolence…
Malfoy stepped away from Hermione, his eyes started to widen in undisguised horror and Hermione had to admit she felt no remorse at slapping him before… but this didn't seem to be the reason behind Malfoy's slow retreat away from her…
"Never, ever do that to me again, understand?" Hermione muttered coldly, her eyes beginning to prickle again like before.
She saw Malfoy nod briefly, and she yelled, "Bombarda!" at the locked door of the Head common room and ran out, failing to hear the harsh, aberrantly heavy breathing coming from behind her.
END OF FLASHBACKDraco walked briskly from his Extended Dark Arts Defence class that morning, but instead of following the clique of his fellow Slytherin students toward the Great Hall for lunch, Draco paced instead toward the Hogwarts Grounds. Just as he walked out of the classroom, he glanced at his watch
12:15am.
That meant he had fifteen minutes to get to the hidden shack on the Hogwarts Grounds before the Dark Lord would scold him. He clutched the note from the Lord in his hand, but his tight grip seemed to loosen slightly. The prospects of not being late for the conference seemed to calm Draco's nerves, as he had been edgy all through out his Extended Dark Arts Defence class.
"That filthy mudblood," Draco spat malevolently, turning a sharp corner.
Who did Granger think she was, slapping a Malfoy like that so early in the morning?
All I did was kiss her… and it's not as if I'm a bad kisser, Draco thought arrogantly, reflexively passing his hand over his vaguely bruised face and stepping out onto the lush grass of the Hogwarts Grounds.
Yet Draco could not help but think that he should have postponed the latest confrontation for at least a few more days.
Let Granger mull over the Astronomy Tower incident for longer. Then at least she might not have been so tender about another possible encounter...
Draco knew he had stuffed things up now, big time. He would probably be lucky if Granger even talked to him again. And he knew he couldn't handle an absence from talking to Hermione Granger.
He kicked the grass in his rage, the dewy green blades sticking relentlessly to his leather shoes.
Draco knew all along that it was bad news to provoke Granger… he had seen that distinct, electric blue fire in those of eyes of hers again, after she had slapped him…
He trembled at the memory and tightened his grasp on his dark green cloak. He remembered having that same feeling of coldness sweep over his body yet again… that same feeling of having his very bones chilled to blocks of ice…
But what did all of it mean?
Draco cast the thought away from his mind, deeming it irrelevant for the time being. But how wrong he was.
It came as a relief to Hermione to finally reach the Great Hall. Her mood was considerably elevated when she glanced up at the ceiling of the hall, where it became clear that today was going to be a sunny day.
She smiled gratefully at the weather, and walked briskly toward the Gryffindor table, moving to take her now usual seat at the end of the table, expecting to be by herself yet again.
But she wasn't.
There sat Ron and Ginny, both of them smiling nervously at Hermione, and Hermione was quick to return the gesture. She felt reconciliation was going to come about sooner or later… she just knew it…
"Hey," Ginny greeted, her eyes crinkled with the broadness of her grin.
"Hey, how are you two?" Hermione beamed, sitting on the very end of the table, Ron on her left and Ginny on her right.
"Yeah good, how about you?" Ron said evenly.
Hermione saw his eyes flicker towards Ginny, who gave a sharp shake of her head, before looking back at Hermione with a smile. Hermione pretended to have not noticed their exchange of body language and shrugged.
"I'm okay I guess, a bit lonely, but you know, you get that," Hermione said somewhat optimistically, taking a swig of her pumpkin juice.
The sweet liquid spread quickly through Hermione's body and she sighed with relief.
"Where's Harry, Gin?" she asked, swiftly checking the table for any sign of the black-haired boy.
"Oh, you mean that bespectacled freak?" Ginny laughed, shaking her head with amusement. "You know, I have absolutely no idea. I haven't even given my little Hawwy Pawwy his dose of medicine all of today," she finished, puckering up her lips to kiss the air.
Ron glanced over at Hermione and they both fought to suppress disgusted expressions. Ron took Hermione's hand in his own and Hermione granted him a smile.
"I missed you," he whispered, moving closer to Hermione to plant a kiss on her lips.
Hermione pulled away, her face starting to redden.
"No, Ron, not here…"
"Yeah, for Merlin's sake, get a room!" Ginny exclaimed loudly, her words causing most of the people at the Gryffindor and the adjacent Hufflepuff table to regard both Ron and Hermione with their undivided attention.
Ron went an evident shade of scarlet, while Hermione merely coughed awkwardly, taking a bite of the quiche on her plate.
"Do you always have to be so immature, Ginny?" Ron snapped, his ears still relatively red.
Ginny merely shook her head in hilarity and began eating the food on her plate. Hermione was immensely enjoying her quiche, the food most definitely agreeable with her rumbling stomach.
"Hey Ron, can you pass the pumpkin juice?" a voice came, its tone somewhat mature and suggestive.
Hermione raised her eyebrows, as she saw that it was Parvati extending her perfectly manicured talons toward Ron, her dark eyelashes fluttering to highlight her beauty.
Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron went even redder and passed the transparent jug over to Parvati, who consciously rubbed her hand against Ron's with her attempt to grasp the jug's handle. Hermione glanced at Ginny, who stifled her giggles and Hermione knew was on the verge of laughing out of disbelief herself.
"Quite tactful, isn't she?" Hermione scorned, surveying Parvati and Ron with amusement.
Ron seemed to turn an even darker shade of crimson at this comment and began muttering incoherently under his breath. Hermione rolled her eyes again and resumed shovelling the quiche into her mouth.
She loved how the subtle flavours of the parsley and bacon were complemented by the sharper, more mature flavours of cheese. The wholesome food seemed to satisfy Hermione, apart from the obvious fact that she was now on speaking terms with her friends.
The first day that Hermione didn't speak to her friends, she found that it was very lonesome. The adjustment from having friends to talk to, to not having friends to talk to was difficult, even though Hermione and her friends often sparred with each other. Yet Hermione had rekindled the joy that she felt when she was at the library, so the time was not ill spent, nor boring.
By the second and third days, the transition seemed non-existent, as Hermione was now submerged deep within schoolwork, as she was decisively resolute to achieve good grades and submit her homework both on time and to the full satisfaction of each respective teacher.
This was what kept Hermione astute over the past few days, not to mention the confusion that swept over her every time she thought of Malfoy (which was, to her disgust, quite often).
The events of the Astronomy Tower incident had not escaped Hermione's mind, no matter how hard she had tried to discard the thought away.
She supposed it was all a part of one of Malfoy's dismal ploys to get her all confused and annoyed at him, and, though she dared not admit it, his ploys were indeed achieving their purpose.
And to think I actually wanted peace with that git, Hermione scowled, moving pieces of pastry on her plate aggressively with her fork.
Hermione was baffled at how Malfoy could go from being a gracious gentleman, with sweet words to match a sweet disposition to suddenly being a ruthless thug, violent both in gesture and in facial expression.
The two personas seemed like polar opposites, yet Malfoy changed stance from each so readily and easily.
Hermione sometimes felt like one of the two personalities was fake, a shameful façade donned by Malfoy in the hopes that the other one would not be discovered and be deemed his true personality. The problem was that Hermione couldn't quite work out which of Malfoy's double personalities was his real one…
Hermione looked over her half-eaten quiche, unaware that strands of her hair were coming in front of her bowed head to rest on the quiche itself.
Ginny leaned over soothingly and tucked the strands behind Hermione's head, where her skin began prickling violently. She stood abruptly from the table, eyeing Ginny with suspicion and rubbedthe skin behind her ears furiously, the prickling seeming to cease gradually.
"Sorry Hermione, I just didn't want you to eat your hair up, if you know what I mean," Ginny said, winking up at Hermione.
Hermione merely nodded, avoiding Ron's bewildered gaze.
"I better get going, you know, stuff to do," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
She hoisted her bag securely on her back, checked her watch distractedly and walked outside the Great Hall, her feet instinctively pacing toward the Gryffindor common room.
Draco entered the shack, his body immediately consumed with coldness. He was not looking forward to meeting the Lord, but he was determined to extract answers from him, however dogged the Lord had seemed on their first meeting.
For some reason, Draco had never really innately feared the Dark Lord himself. His father had always imposed the fear on Draco, what with all the bloodcurdling, gory tales of punishment and horror that had been often recounted to him. This was where the trepidation had stemmed from, but Draco himself had never really feared the Lord that much.
He had always regarded the Lord as an equal, possibly inferior, but never a superior. Yet Draco was also a coward, and he was well aware that some flattery and admiration could get anyone anywhere… indeed, however false the admiration were to be…
"Draco."
The voice was neutral but it was tinted with a hissing malevolence that Draco was quick to note.
"Yes master, I am here."
Draco kissed the pallid feet protruding from the otherwise blackness of the shack, his lips slightly tingling with the coldness of the feet's skin.
"How is your mission faring, Draco?"
The voice was hinted with menace, and Draco swallowed. He did not know where to begin.
"I do not value your silence, dear Draco," the voice rang out again, the harshness now becoming more and more evident.
Draco trembled under his robes and he clutched onto his cloak tightly, feeling the delicate cloth fray under his very own firm grip…
"Master, I request permission to speak," Draco responded, hoping to prolong the inevitable topic of the conversation.
"Speak, boy, speak," the voice snapped impatiently.
"Well," Draco started, "Granger is beginning to succumb, my Lord, but it will take much time."
The voice cackled, the cacophony of it making Draco's ears vibrate with terror.
"Do not think that I am unaware of your sheer folly, Draco," the voice whispered dangerously, reverting abruptly from loud cackling to quiet whispers.
Draco swallowed again and nodded his head vigorously. He could not bring himself to speak, but he then he felt some of his resolve return to him.
"Master, I implore you to grant me some of your vast knowledge, and tell me why it is that the target of my mission is that Mud-Granger."
Draco stopped himself in his stride, not knowing whether or not the time was appropriate to highlight the purity of blood.
"Draco, I shall once more excuse your ignorance of not first asking permission to speak," the Lord wheezed. "I shall, however, not impart any of my superior knowledge upon you as to why we are pursuing Granger. Draco, may I again ask, who is the boss here?"
Draco shuffled uncomfortably.
"You, sir."
"And who is the Heir of Slytherin?" the voice whispered dangerously.
Draco winced.
"You, sir."
"So who should be obeying whose orders, Draco? Surely even a child like you is familiar with the word 'hierarchy'."
Draco felt a pang of irritation at being addressed as a 'child', but he shook himself out of the thought.
"I crave pardon, my Lord, I was not thinking," Draco beseeched, again bowing forward to kiss the Dark Lord's ashen feet.
The voice recommenced cackling, the noise resonating viciously against the walls of the shack. Draco trembled in his robes, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the shrill sound.
"Yet I realise it may seem unfair to you, dear Draco, that you know nothing of the history of the mission," the Lord said, once the hilarity of the situation escaped him. "All I shall tell you is that Granger should be coming of age soon. I know you have realised this detail as well, first-hand in fact."
Draco raised his eyebrows in confusion.
"My Lord, how have I come to acknowledge this detail?"
"Electric blue fire, dear Draco, electric blue fire," the voice repeated, with heavy emphasis on each word, as if it were being read from a book. "You have seen it in her eyes, I know. The Dark Lord knows all."
Draco's eyes widened. Could this have been the reason why Granger's eyes kept glinting with blue flames? Because she was coming of age? The pieces did not seem to fit together at all. In fact, this revelation seemed to make Draco even more confused than before. Questions sprang into his mind at every angle, but he knew that there was a limit to what the Lord could endure.
"Draco, I shall pose a warning to you; do not provoke the intrinsic streak of malice within your target," the voice hissed. "You have caused more damage to her than before, and therefore you will have to now repair that damage before you proceed further to win her trust. Do not disappoint me, Draco."
Hermione ran from the Great Hall, her eyes beginning to water from the pain she had momentarily felt when Ginny had touched her.
Why was this all happening?
The puzzle was growing more and more complex every day, and Hermione did not know whom she could confide in.
Hermione turned the corner, realising she was only five minutes away from the Gryffindor common room.
The prickling had only happened when she had been around Ron and Ginny. Perhaps it was a Weasley sort of thing?
But no sooner had the thought entered Hermione's mind that the memory of Malfoy's kiss knocked it out. The prickling and internal pain she had felt then was agonising, and she knew could bet her life on the notion that Malfoy was definitely not of Weasley origin.
Hermione walked through the common room entrance door, surprised that it was ajar. But as soon as she walked in the room, she could hear loud voices from one of the dormitories above, even thought she was certain that everyone was still at lunch.
Hermione hid behind one of the large chairs near the fireplace, intently listening to the thunderous discussion coming from above.
"… oh yeah? And what about Ginny?" came a female voice that Hermione instantly recognised as Lavender's.
"I told you, I'll figure it all out, okay?" came Harry's beseeching voice.
Hermione felt her heart dip. What was Harry doing with Lavender in a dormitory?
"I'm not just going to be waiting here for you here like a patient wife, Harry Potter!" Lavender's shrill voice sounded out.
"I don't expect you to, but if what we have here is true, the wait will be worthwhile," Harry's voice responded, its tone sounding calm and defeated.
There was no sound for a fair few seconds, but soon Hermione could hear heavy panting coming from above.
"You know, you always have that effect on me, Harry," Lavender's voice purred.
But Hermione could no longer stand the obvious exchange of passion coming from above her and she marched furiously up to the dormitory, her hands clenched and face set for the inevitable confrontation that was now making its arrival.
A/N: Okay, so that wasn't as long as last chapter, I was actually going to include the confrontation here, but I don't think I have given you all a cliffy in a while so here it is! Ok, can I just say how AMAZED I am to the response of this story! Over twenty reviews have been posted in this span of a week! Can I just thank you all sooooo much for being so kind, you know it really boosts my morale when I get these reviews and it makes me want to write more and update more often hint hint lol. I'd really like to thank the reviewers who have stayed with me for a long time, namely Cold-Blade, MajorFanfic (thanks for wishing me good luck for my exams!), ILikeTheWayYouMove (thank you as well for wishing me good luck, you're both so nice!), Maya2000, DeannaSmith, and just everyone who reviewed in general, thank you so much. I hope I gave you a bit of the plot here, with the whole Voldemort and Draco exchange, even though I was careful not to reveal too much, I'm not gonna be surprised if you're still confused about it all, but I solemnly swear to tie up all loose ends at the end of the story surprise surprise lol. Oh the title for the chappy means Draco's kiss and the kiss that Ron wanted to have with Hermione but she pulled away, hence the 'Kiss and a Half'. Shhh, I couldn't think of another title lol, so bear with me. Oh and wen I said that Draco isn't of Weasley origin... er... yeah lol. I really hope you are enjoying my story, and please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW chapter nine (meaning this chapter lol) as well. Cheers!