The Passion of a Dragon
By: xKatx
Author's Notes: Aww wasn't last chapter just enough to give ya butterflies?
Disclaimer: I don't own HP stuff—I'd be in the mountains right now if I did—I own everything you don't recognize.
Characters You Will Meet In This Chapter:
no new characters
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"Albus, does this mean something?" Professor McGonagall asked as they watched the two in the Pensieve, "Is it just hormones?"
Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "No, Minerva, I don't believe it's just hormones. The prophecy has hinted that the two chosen ones were the worst of enemies," he chuckled, "Why else would Taryn and Luke quote Shakespeare in a play that is ironically like what is happening?"
"Romeo and Juliet is not exactly alike in what is happening between Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, Albus," she contradicted, "Besides, this was a fling; a mere lapse in judgement--how are we sure this means anything?"
Professor Dumbledore cleared the image away as the two students parted and spoke to one another. He wasn't pleased on having to spy on them, and he'd seen enough to begin to form a conjecture as to what would happen.
"Minerva, the prophecy is moving fast. It said fourteen weeks. By the end of December, the prophecy will either be filled, or the two of them will die."
She shook her head, "It's too much. They're teenagers! Their only nineteen and eighteen!" (A/N: I made him 19 and her 18 cuz I want them older. I know 7th years are generally 17, but this is my fic so DEAL! It matters that they're older, okay? Just trust me)
"Ironically, they're more mature than any of the other couples the prophecy has chosen over the years. They can handle it."
"Albus, see reason," she said, "If they fight it and the prophecy is not fulfilled, we're going to lose two of our very best students."
Professor Dumbledore sighed as he moved to the tea set on a table in front of the window. He poured a cup for himself and Professor McGonagall, handing it to her, "I know, Minerva."
"We can't let that happen! They are the only two who have the power to prevent another He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"
"Minerva, his name is Voldemort."
She winced slightly, and he sighed again, taking his seat behind his desk, "He's dead, Minerva. It would be rather fitting to use his name now, don't you think?"
She shook her head, and he just shrugged.
"Albus, please-"
"There's nothing I can do, Minerva. The prophecy has been around for hundreds of years. Even before I was alive. I cannot change it; no one can."
"But-"
"Have some tea. It will calm your nerves," he insisted.
Professor McGonagall finally gave in, sitting down in the chair across the desk from the Headmaster. She took a sip from her cup and adjusted her glasses.
Professor Dumbledore sat forward with a small tin in his hand, "Try putting one of these in; I find the flavor quite pleasing."
Professor McGonagall took a lemon drop from the tin and put it into her cup, mixing it around in the tea.
The two adults sat for a long time, contemplating over what was happening at Hogwarts. Two students' lives were at stake, and both could only hope that the two found common ground and fulfilled the prophecy, rather than falling to it.
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Hermione awoke at about three-thirty in the morning, a slight chill running over her skin. She didn't remember her room being so cold--perhaps the fire had gone out.
Suddenly she realized there was a very sinewy, pale arm draped across her waist. His skin was cool against hers, and pearly compared to the tanned skin of her stomach.
Oh, shit! She thought to herself, I'm in Malfoy's room--I'm in Malfoy's bed!
She looked around. Yep. The black, silver, and emerald green draperies and the blue lighting of the whole room definitely made that clear. The moon was low in the sky, shining through the window just above his bed. It illuminated his face, and in her opinion it looked oddly angelic. She was tempted to reach up and touch his cheek, but feared he would awaken.
What a predicament you've gotten yourself into, she told herself, Stay? Or sneak out and get to your room?
She decided to sneak out. She didn't want any kind of weird confrontation when he awoke.
Too bad for her Draco Malfoy was a light sleeper.
She slid toward the edge of the bed, his arm slowly sliding off of her waist. She turned onto her side and continued to move toward the edge of the bed, moving ever so slowly as to not awaken him. She silently cursed herself for wearing such a short shirt. His hands were now on the skin of her waistline, just under her shirt.
Just as she was about to remove his hand, she felt his arm tighten, pulling her back flush with his chest.
"Leaving so soon," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her.
She turned around to face him and glared up at him, "Let me go."
He shook his head, and she rolled her eyes, "Why not?"
"You're keeping me warm," he told her with a smirk.
She scoffed and pushed his arms, trying to make him release her from his embrace.
He pressed a kiss to her neck and whispered, "Do you really want to leave?"
She nodded, "Yes."
"Why?" He questioned, a hand going to her waist and his lips meeting her neck again.
"Because…" she said, trying to forget the tingles coming from his touch, "Because… I hate you… and," she gasped as he bit her gently, "And… you have a Quidditch match… tomorrow…"
"So?" He questioned, looking up at her, his steel gray eyes burning into hers, "I can still play tomorrow."
She laughed quietly, her hand going to the back of his neck, "Not if you stay up all night snogging with me."
He smirked at her, "You aren't getting much sleep either."
"Which is why I'm leaving," she said, pushing him off and getting up, running a hand through her hair and straightening her twisted up clothing.
Draco sat up on his right arm and watched her straighten her clothes, "Just like that?"
She smirked at him as she leaned down on the bed and pressed her lips to his. He put a hand on the back of her head, and pulled her down with him, causing her to put a knee on the bed to lean down farther and continue kissing him. His tongue entered her mouth gently, and she smiled as she broke the kiss, smirking at him and pressing a shorter kiss to his lips.
"Good luck tomorrow," she told him as she turned and left the room.
Draco shook his head with a smile.
"Mya, come on!" He called after her, shortening her name in an attempt to get her to stop. When his door shut, he lay back on his bed and let out a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. What were they now?
Hermione shut her door and leaned against it, letting out a very long breath. What would happen between them now?
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A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life…
Draco awoke that morning alone in his bed. It was cold and lonely compared to how it had been at three-thirty that morning. She'd been there… there in his bed with him…
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes…
Hermione stared out the window that morning, looking out at the lake. She was falling for him, but something kept her from giving in to his temptation. After all, they were enemies…
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy…
She was a Mudblood; how the hell could he fall for her? His father was the biggest obstacle in his mind at that moment. Besides the fact that he was a Slytherin and she was a Gryffindor…
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love…
It was his namesake; he was a Malfoy. A pureblooded prince heired to a fortune of wealth and power. She didn't fit into his world, and he didn't fit into hers. In her mind, it would never work…
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet…
He lay in bed for another half an hour thinking only of her. She would be at the Quidditch match that morning. She'd be watching him, and the thought hadn't bothered him before. Now it did and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not.
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!…
She dressed with careful consideration that morning. Never before had she dressed to impress, but now there was someone who would see her. He would see her, and she wanted to look good and feel confident around him.
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright…
He climbed out of bed at about ten o'clock that morning and tried to focus on the Quidditch game he would be taking part in that morning. If he was going to win today, he had to get her out of his mind. Besides, it had only been a simple snogging session--nothing more, nothing less.
Ay me! My only love, sprung from my only hate!…
Her hate for him had seemed to dwindle overnight; which was strange and somewhat cliché, but it was true. As she tossed and turned that night, she'd slowly realized he was everything she wanted and everything she wasn't. He completed her, and complimented her at the same time. It was amazing how well they clicked together.
But to his foe supposed he must complain,
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks…
As he pulled on his Quidditch robes, the black fabric outlined in silver and emerald green, he thought about how intense she had been only hours earlier. It was amazing how beautiful she was, laying on his bed; the moonlight illuminating her face and eyes, her golden brown hair splayed around her face. She'd been one of the most gentle, sensual kissers he'd ever had the pleasure of lip-locking with. It was surprising, considering she was his enemy.
Being held a foe, he may not have access
To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
And she as much in love, her means much less
To meet her new-beloved any where…
He was so much more gentle and loving than she could have ever imagined. He'd looked simply angelic when he'd been laying over her, his silvery blonde hair and pearly skin illuminated by the moonlight; his grayish-silver eyes staring deep into hers, reading her very soul. He knew how to make her feel incredibly uncomfortable, but extremely desirable as well. It was conflicting, being under his gaze, but she didn't mind it.
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet
Tempering extremities with extreme sweet…
Hermione changed into tight, low-slung, hip-hugging, boot-cut black jeans, a crimson halter top, her black boots, and her black cloak with the Gryffindor emblem over her heart. She straightened her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, wrapping a section of hair around the elastic. She applied some subtle make-up and her vanilla perfume and left her room, anxious to see the Quidditch match, and anxious to see him.
He ran his hands over his silvery blonde hair, slicking it back away from his face. It stayed like it always did; he straightened his collar and looked at his reflection. He was focusing on the game, but she was still on his mind. Her eyes, her skin, her lips… the vanilla scent that came off of her, the vanilla taste of her…
Stop it, Malfoy, he told himself, You're playing Ravenclaw in an hour; you need to focus on beating them.
Then suddenly, he remembered his father would be at the match. What if she did something? Something to make his father realize there was something going on between them?
No, he told himself, no, she's smarter than that. She knows what's going on.
With that reassuring thought in his mind (along with many others) he left his room and went off to the Great Hall, preparing to defeat Ravenclaw at the Quidditch match.