The Passion of a Dragon
By: xKatx
Author's Notes: WOW!
I have reviews! lol I'm so excited!! :)
Well, I'd like to update you all—I have all the chapters done except for the
last two which I'm editing, so at this point you're just waiting for me to get
my lazy butt to the computer and upload the chapters! I apologize for any typos
or spelling mistakes—I am basically my own beta! lol :) I'd also like to let
you guys know that I'm already planning my next story! For some of you who read
my short lived fic containing the Fates called All's Fair in Love and War,
I would like you guys to know that I am NOT reloading it. I'm taking the
general idea (which I came up with, I swear) and putting it into the plot I've
already created for my next story! As soon as I get a title that I'm sure
about, I will post it on this story so you guys know what to look for! Thank
you for enjoying this fic so much, I appreciate all the support! ::muah::
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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It was two days until Thanksgiving break and Hermione hadn't spoken to Draco since their last... rendezvous on the common room couch. Usually when she got a crush on someone, it slowly died after their second or third encounter. But this time she found herself physically aching for his touch; the feel of his breath on her skin, his hands on her waist, his lips on her neck…
Stop it, Hermione! She scolded herself, You don't care about Malfoy!
She sat in Arithmancy that Thursday afternoon, unconsciously tapping the feather of her quill against the top of the desk. She stared out the window at the cool gray lake.
It almost looks like his-
NO! She scolded herself, NO! Stop it!
But she just couldn't stop making analogies between simple things such as colors and his features. The gray of the lake and his eyes, the white of the sky nearly identical to his pale blonde hair…
This is ridiculous! She scolded herself, He's not even that attractive.
This was probably the biggest lie she'd ever told in her entire life. Just the mere thought of him was enough to make her skin tingle with anticipation. No matter how much her mind screamed with the horrid memories of his tormenting, her body and heart betrayed her every time.
If only she could figure out what would make this need for him diminish.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDraco walked into the common room the next evening, mentally preparing for his return home the next morning. Being around his father wasn't as easy as he tried to convince himself it was, therefore it took a lot of mental preparation.
As soon as he walked in, he immediately noticed her door was open. He always noticed little things like that; it was a habit he'd gotten from being a Seeker for six years. He walked by, the only light coming from the flickering flames of the fire.
Draco peeked into her crimson and gold room and saw her fire was the only thing illuminating the room. She appeared a moment later in the doorway.
"What
do you want, Malfoy?"
He raised his eyebrows, "Make out with me twice and still call me by my last
name? Wouldn't that be considered poor form, Hermione?"
She rolled her eyes, "What do you want?"
"Can't I simply say goodnight?" He questioned, leaning on her door jam.
She crossed her arms over her chest, angry with herself for wearing such short shorts and such a revealing tank top, "And why would you want to do that? Why waste your breath on a Mudblood?"
His eyes sparked with rekindled annoyance, "You do have a point; why would I extend such a courtesy to you?"
"God only knows," she replied, preparing to shut the door, "I don't know what I was thinking; believing you could change," she muttered almost incoherently. He, however, had heard her.
She started to shut the door, but his arm blocked it from moving any farther, "Since when did this become about me changing?" He demanded.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "It isn't, it's just..."
"What?" He asked, no impatience evident in his voice. This was very strange for him; one minute, he looks at her with growing contempt, and the next minute he wants to put whatever it is that's bothering her at ease.
You're losing your mind, Draco, he told himself, but he couldn't help stepping closer to her and looking down into her deep brown eyes. They were like pools of milk chocolate; warm and inviting and irresistable.
"We haven't talked about anything since...since..."
"Since you snogged me?"
Her eyes went wide, "I beg your pardon? You initiated the first one."
"Ahh, but you started the second one."
She rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Listen, we have to talk about this before it gets way out of hand."
"I agree. So talk."
She rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms over her chest, "So... we're not exactly enemies any more..."
"But not exactly friends either," he added in, leaning against the door jam again.
"Right. So what are we?"
"Two people who snog each other whenever the mood strikes them?"
She scoffed, "Yeah, I'd love to explain that to my friends."
His brow furrowed, "Good point; I wouldn't want to explain that to my friends either."
"So, are we going to talk in public, or..." She motioned with her hand for him to finish the sentence.
"Not unless you're prepared for all the rumors and talk and whispers and all that behind-the-back bullshit that people are good for," he replied, watching her intently.
"Well, are you prepared for that?"
"Hermione, I'm a Malfoy; I grew up with that."
She nodded, "True. Well, I'm used to rumors as well, I suppose. I mean, my two best friends are guys, so I get my fair share of talk."
"What about the Gryffindors? If they see you conversing or consorting with a Slytherin... even more horrific, me... wouldn't they disown you or something?"
She shook her head, "No, they'd never do that. But what about the Slytherins?"
"I have most of those people's adoration and allegiance--they won't be a problem," he told her.
"So... civil in public--"
He raised an eyebrow suggestively, "Not so civil behind closed doors."
She rolled her eyes and tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist.
"Not very smart, Mya," he told her, pulling her closer to him.
"Where in the world do you get Mya out of Hermione?" She questioned, her back now flush against his chest.
His lips were very close to her ear as he whispered, "HerMYone--it sounds like you're saying Mya."
Her pulse was racing as she felt his breath on her neck as he gently pushed her hair to the side.
"Well," she said, her voice much softer than it had been, "Then it's only fair I come up with a nickname for you."
"Well, anything except Dragon," he told her, "Blaise calls me that."
She nodded "All right, no Dragon..." she thought for a moment, "Dray," she said simply, "Quite ironically the first syllable of your long and difficult name."
He smirked at her reference to their previous argument, "I think it works."
She smiled at him and ran a hand through his blonde hair, "I happen to agree."
Draco smiled at her before gently pressing his lips to hers. Hermione felt her knees weaken as he held her close to his body. Her mind was screaming that this could never work, but no argument her mind came up with made her stop.
"God, how can I hate you and want you at the same time?" She asked as they separated for air.
"I haven't the slightest idea, but I assure you I'm confused on that issue as well," he reassured her. At that moment, a thought flashed through her mind and she pushed away from him.
His brows furrowed, "What?"
She took a deep breath and swallowed, running a hand through her hair, "Umm.. last year..."
Draco looked down and saw the tip of the black mark just visible over the neck of his shirt. He looked back up at her and watched her carefully.
"You think I'm only doing this for revenge?"
She raised her eyebrows, "It would be very good revenge."
He rolled his eyes, "Hermione," he told her, "I don't care about last year."
"Come
on," she hissed, disbelief clouding her voice, "Up until two weeks
ago even the slightest mention of that night sent you off. Now it doesn't
bother you?"
Draco licked his lips, "All right," he said, "I care, okay? Is
that all you want? You want to see me admit that the fact that you won kills
me? Well, Hermione, I admit it. I hate that you won. We've been fighting since
first year to see who is best, and you've beat me every time. You're still
beating me; you have more control over this whole... situation than I do."
"Why does everything have to be a contest?" She asked exasperatedly, "Who cares who is the strongest or the smartest or the most 'in-control'? Both of us hated each other, both of us finally fought, both of us came back, and both of us have been... drawn to each other, I suppose. No one has to be the winner!"
"You don't understand," he told her, "My father expects me to be first in everything--why do you think he comes to every single Quidditch match? To see if he can find a weakness in the other teams that I need to know about so we can beat them. It's the same thing."
"Not necessarily," she told him, "Your father doesn't--" her eyes went wide, "--doesn't... know about us."
"And he's not going to," Draco told her, "Not unless this becomes something more. For now we're just--"
"--Friends with benefits?" She quipped. He smirked.
"Sounds all right."
She rolled her eyes, "Well, I guess we have time over Thanksgiving to see if we're both willing to be in that kind of relationship. Goodnight, Dray."
He raised an eyebrow, "Come on, you know you can't do that--it's not fair."
She smirked, "Life isn't fair, Mr. Malfoy--I'll see you after Thanksgiving break."
He groaned, leaving the room.
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Thanksgiving passed quickly for all of the seventh year students. Ginny and Ron returned to the Burrow, along with Harry. They had a large dinner with all of the Weasleys except for Percy, who was still on the outs with his family.
Seamus went home to Ireland; Parvati and
Lavender went home as well.
Blaise went to Malfoy Manor with Draco for Thanksgiving that year, due to the
Zabini's trip to Romania.
Hermione went home as well, but her visit was a very uneasy one. Every time she
had a moment alone, her mind would easily wander to Malfoy. She had no way of
knowing what would happen when they returned from Thanksgiving break, and part
of her was dreading it too. Besides, what if the attraction was purely
physical, and nothing else? How would things be then?
Hermione couldn't fall asleep the night before
her return to Hogwarts; she was more nervous than she ever thought she would be.
After all, the mere memory of his face made her even more nervous; butterflies
fluttered around in her stomach as she shut her eyes and tried to think of
something other than him. Besides, if all she could think about was him, she
would be in serious trouble.
Little did she know, he was feeling the same way. All of it was so forbidden
that it excited both of them to no end. It was enticing, knowing that if the
world were in on their secret, it would be the most scandalous thing to happen
in the history of the Wizarding World.
Hermione, that night, decided that when she returned to Hogwarts, she would let him be in charge. No more 'Hermione making the moves.'
If Draco wanted her, he would have to make the
move; Hermione wasn't going to do it for him.
She thought it sounded a little old fashioned and selfish, but it would also
prove the one thing she needed to know: if he was serious about her.
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If there was any more inopportune time for Hermione to wake up sick, today was that time. She woke up with her head throbbing and her throat on fire.
Perfect, she thought as she dragged herself out of bed, I always seem to have the best timing.
Despite her ailments, she managed to prepare for her departure in relatively good time. She left her hair naturally wavy, due to her lack of dedication to straightening it. She pulled it into a ponytail, wrapping a strand of hair around the elastic. She applied very little make-up; black eyeliner, mascara, and a little lip gloss, and the only jewelry she wore was two silver rings on her right hand, and a pair of silver hoop earrings. She pulled on a soft black turtleneck sweater, a pair of fitted, faded boot-cut jeans, and her black boots. She knew she didn't look her best, but she was too tired and sick to care. After all, if Draco couldn't be attracted to her when she wasn't looking her best, he wasn't worth it.
She made it back to the train station but still didn't feel completely herself. She found a secluded compartment and curled up in a ball on one of the seats, staring out the window and absent-mindedly twirling one of her rings around her finger. She wasn't even sure Malfoy was on this train, but she had a feeling that he was. She also knew at any moment her crew of friends would come barrelling into the compartment, so she enjoyed these last few minutes of solitude.
Not even three minutes later, the door slid open and in came Harry, Ginny, Ron, Lavender, Seamus, and Parvati.
Hugs and smiles were exchanged, and they all quickly learned that Hermione's ailments made it hard for her to speak.
"How was your vacation, 'Mione?" Harry asked after they'd settled into the compartment: Harry and Ginny sitting next to Hermione; Seamus, Parvati, Ron, and Lavender on the other seat across from them.
Hermione gave him a thumbs up, and he smiled, "Good," he replied.
"How was all of your vacations?" She squeaked out, her words barely coherent.
"Don't try to talk!" Parvati scolded her, "It'll make it worse."
Hermione rolled her eyes as she listened intently to her friends' stories. Hermione, however, was only half-listening. She felt a chill go up her spine, and she had a feeling that Draco was somewhere nearby. She tried, to the best of her ability, to push him from her mind and focus on her friends.
Halfway through the trip, while Seamus and Ron were playing Wizard's Chess (the board propped up on one of their trunks), the compartment door slid open.
Hermione, who'd been watching the two with intense boredom, her head resting on her hand and her legs crossed, looked up and her eyes plainly showed the panic she was feeling.
Draco Malfoy was standing in the compartment door.
Within three seconds, Ron attempted to stand up. Seamus and Lavender, however, kept him in his seat.
"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Ron spat.
Draco's cool gaze fell on the irritated red-head and said, "Not that it's any of your business, Weasley, but I need to talk to Hermione."
Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati gasped at his mention of Hermione's name; Ron, Seamus, and Harry looked at one another before watching Malfoy carefully. Hermione lifted her head from her hand and stood up. Ron touched her arm and she shook her head, obviously meaning, "Don't worry—I'll be fine." He nodded as she walked past Malfoy and out into the corridor of the train.
Draco shut the door behind her and turned around to see her standing with her arms crossed over her chest; only about four feet separated them.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" She asked, her voice scratchy and off-pitch.
His eyes showed slight concern, "How long have you been sick?"
"What does it matter?" She asked, "It's no concern of yours."
His eyes narrowed and turned chilly, "That's only too true."
She rolled her eyes, "I'm sick of your games, Malfoy," she said, "I want you to forget everything that happened between us, okay? It doesn't matter."
She moved to enter the compartment again, but he blocked her way.
"Get out of my way!" She said, probably having screamed this had she had full use of her voice.
"No," he said, producing a small vial from his cloak.
"What is that?" She asked, her heart jumping into her throat as one thought crossed her mind: He's going to poison me.
"Veritaserum," he replied. Her heart returned to it's original place, but her curiosity piqued.
"What for?" She asked.
He put the vial back into his pocket, and looked up at her, his light gray eyes piercing into her brown ones.
"Tonight, at midnight, go to the tree; the one we saw in the dream. I'll explain it then."
He walked off in the other direction, smirking to himself at the plan he'd devised. He would find out what was really going on in Hermione Granger's head; and that information would be more than helpful to him.
She stood for a moment, her arms still crossed in front of her, watching his retreating form.
What in the world is going on with him? She wondered as she re-entered the compartment and spent the rest of the train ride with her friends, wondering what he was planning on doing with the Veritaserum.