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::
IN THIS CHAPTER: Flashback to the war—what really happened between Draco and Hermione that night? Here lies the answer...
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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They pulled on the plum purple robes in a timely fashion. There were about 500 of them in the Great Hall that night, all preparing for the same moment.
Hermione pulled on the black gloves that came with the robes, carefully tucking the handle end of her wand into a strip of dragonhide across the palm of the right-hand glove, so her wand could not fall out once the battle started.
She was nervous; her heart was beating rapidly, and her breath coming in quick spurts. She saw Harry securing his robes. He looked up and gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled weakly back at him. She shouldn't be nervous; Dumbledore had placed protective charms on every single one of them; any curses would simply knock them out cold for twelve hours. It was reassuring, except for the fact that these charms didn't protect them from the Killing Curse.
All too soon, the castle shook menacingly, and the five-hundred students who'd offered to fight for Dumbledore tore out of the Great Hall.
The first four hours of the battle dragged on for her. She managed to disarm and capture many Death Eaters, having only received minor hits herself. She was looking for one man in particular, though. The man she'd seen fly out of the castle the night before.
She'd been up getting a drink at about two in the morning. She was standing at the window, looking out over the moon-lit grounds when she saw a figure walking out of the castle. She squinted and immediately saw the platinum blonde hair that was unique to only one person at that school.
"What the hell is he doing?" She whispered to herself, watching as he mounted his broom and took off in a Northern direction.
Now she was carefully walking through the woods, looking for him. She knew he was fighting for them; the only question was, had someone else gotten to him already?
She stopped dead in her tracks, feeling a cold shiver up her spine. He was nearby. She turned around, and there he stood; that same damnable creature she'd been looking for. She was glad she'd found him; she had her fair share of words to say to him.
"You," she spat, as if even speaking to him left a nasty taste on her tongue.
He gave her a condescending smirk, "Me."
"I should have let you die," she told him, her wand at the ready.
She knew referring to the incident at the Valentine's Day ball would get to him.
She'd left early due to a row she'd had with Ron. She was walking down the corridor, toward the stairs that led to Gryffindor tower when she saw a flash of white light, and saw someone fall to the ground.
She looked around the corridor for someone else who could help, but realized she was alone. She rushed over, and saw the crumpled form of...
"Malfoy?" She said with disbelief. She saw a small stream of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. She knew he was hurt—badly. She had to get him to the Hospital Wing, or he'd die. And that's just what she did.
"And not a moment too soon!" Madame Pomfrey had informed her a day later.
She glared at him now, her fingers gripping her wand hard, preparing to hex him.
His eyes flashed fire at her. He hated the fact that she'd saved his life only a month earlier, but she couldn't ruffle his feathers, "Regretting our decision, dear Mudblood?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed at him, "Malfoy, you're a self-righteous prick."
"Watch your language, young lady," he told her wickedly, "We wouldn't want anyone of importance to hear you."
"What, like your precious leader Voldemort?" She said, surprised to see he didn't bat an eyelash at the mention of his master's name.
"Filth like you don't deserve to speak that name," he spat.
"Oh, and pureblooded prats like you do? Don't you remember your leader is a Mudblood as well? Or has that little detail slipped your mind, dearest Malfoy?"
He smirked at her, "Oh, it hasn't slipped my mind at all."
She feigned a look of thoughtfulness, "Perhaps you don't want your father to hear you talking to a Mudblood. Is that it?"
His face stayed ice cold; a rough stone that time nor elements could age.
"Ah, that's it, isn't it? Want to keep up appearances around Father Dearest?" She asked, "Want him to see you take the life of a Mudblood? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy, but I won't be the one dying tonight."
He laughed, a cruel, bone-chilling, taunting laugh, "You think you're going to kill me? You go ahead and try, Granger."
She glared at him, staring at his regally masculine face. It was almost an attractive face, if it didn't have evil and hate clear in its expression. His smile, left over from his laughter, slowly melted into a look of temptation.
"We can take you in, you know," he said quietly, looking at her carefully, "We can make you one of us. Power, respect..."
"Damnation," she spat, looking daggers at him.
Before either could respond, there was an enormous explosion behind her. She was flung forward into him, his arms instinctively going around her waist to keep her from falling. Why he did this, she didn't understand. They fell into a tree, her back going against the trunk, his arms still around her.
"Get off of me," she whispered angrily as they heard screams and groans of pain; trees were falling from where the explosion had been, but at that moment she couldn't take her eyes off of his face
His cold, evil gray eyes bore down into her cinnamon brown ones; they seemed to burn, and she had to look away.
"You are beautiful, for a Mudblood," he whispered. She watched, enthralled by what she was seeing. His eyes, which were so dark gray they almost looked black, were slowly lightening, becoming a lighter, shinier gray.
"What the-" she began, but was silenced as his hand went to her cheek and he tenderly pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes went wide until she felt his arm snake farther around her waist and his fingers caress her face. She kissed back, her hand going around his wrist, gently running her skin against his. Why she did this, she had no idea; it felt like something was forcing her to kiss him back. Mind you, she wasn't turned off by the gesture at the moment.
When they finally broke apart for oxygen, she looked into his eyes and felt her breath catch in her throat as his eyes began to darken, strips of black seeping back into the gray.
"You will be mine, someday," he told her before his eyes changed completely. She heard a voice yell a curse, but thought nothing of it until Draco shook with pain. She watched as he closed his eyes, fighting the curse to the best of his ability.
She tore from his grasp, letting him fall against the tree as she saw Harry's wand slowly lowering from behind another tree. Draco slid to the ground, clutching his chest.
Harry made a step forward, but Hermione shook her head.
"No, Harry, let me handle this," she said, "He's injured; he can't hurt me."
Harry nodded as he kicked Draco's wand away, "Be careful, 'Mione," he told her before running in the opposite direction.
Hermione watched him as his figure disappeared, before looking down at Draco, who was coughing, still clutching his chest and fighting to breathe.
She moved to his side and got down on a knee, watching him struggle. She brushed a strand of silvery blonde hair away from his forehead, where it had fallen when he was hit. His eyes were grayish-black, and flashed a look of hurt. He looked like she had betrayed him.
"I could kill you right now," she whispered, knowing perfectly well her Killing Curse would probably just knock him out.
His eyes narrowed as he scoffed, "Then do it, Mudblood. Do it."
She smirked as she stood and pointed her wand at him, "No. I'll do something better."
She paused for a moment before closing her eyes and saying the only curse she knew that could do what she wished.
"DARCONUM LAVINUS!"
Hermione jerked awake, her head flying off of the pillow. She hadn't had dreams like that since the beginning of the year; why were they suddenly starting up again?
Why are you so freaked out? She asked herself, You lived through that!
It was true; but the memories still gave her uneasy feelings. She couldn't even explain why they gave her those feelings; even pondering that made her uneasy. So, to keep life simple, she just avoided thinking of it at all.
She looked at the clock and realized she had three minutes to get down to the tree. She jumped off of her bed, looking in her mirror and seeing that her make-up wasn't smudged. She quickly pulled a brush through her hair and straightened her jeans and black turtleneck, having not changed since arriving. She pulled on her boots and ran from the room, sneaking out the corridor, down the stairs, into the Entrance Hall, and out of the castle. Luckily, she hadn't run into anyone: human, feline, or ghost.
It was a chilly, windy evening. She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly as she made her way to the tree, pulling aside the branches and slipping into the shelter of the willows.
She saw him standing there, leaning against the trunk of the tree. She stayed where she was, arms crossed over her chest and making sure there was at least six feet between them. Part of her still didn't trust that what was in there was Veritaserum; this would be the perfect way and place to poison her and never get caught—no one knew she was here.
"What are we doing out here, Malfoy?" She asked, quickly getting to the point, her voice still not entirely there.
He pulled out the vial, "We're both going to get some real answers," he replied.
She shook her head, "I don't need Veritaserum to show me and tell me what I already know."
"And what is it you already know?" He questioned, pushing off of the tree and facing her, standing at his full six-foot-one height.
"I already know that what we did was a mistake and that I'm not letting myself get sucked into a trap."
"You think this is a trap?" He asked her, disbelief and offense creeping into his voice, "Why would I trap you?"
"Because I'm Mudblood Granger! Malfoy," she began, referring back to her old ways of addressing him, "You spent six years of your life making sure mine was a living hell. And now, you want to investigate a possible relationship with me? This could never work!"
"Stop acting like a drama queen, Granger. And I am not the only one who has given signs of wanting something more," he told her, his voice growing chilly, "You want more just as much as I do."
"I beg your pardon!" She said, uncrossing her arms and beginning to get into their argument, "You have been the one to initiate every single—"
"—Snogging session?" He offered. She nodded, but before she could continue, he began, "And if memory serves me correctly, you began the second one, and the first time we ever kissed was not a snogging session."
"Considering you were under Voldemort's control at that point, I don't even consider that our first kiss," she said, "Because I, for one, never even wanted it—"
"—Oh come off it!" He snarled, "You were kissing me back just before Potter hexed me!"
"I was not!" She insisted, "I was in a compromising situation where if I slapped you, which I assure you I was prepared to do, you could have killed me!"
"Granger, you need a reality check," he told her, "You know just as well as I that the only seventh year to ever perform a Killing Curse to its full effect and potential was Potter when he defeated Voldemort; I couldn't have killed you even if I wanted to."
"You could have easily killed me with your bare hands," she said, her anger and raised voice (though she was losing her vocal power quickly due to her ailments) never once lowering, "Or you could have easily knocked me out and brought me somewhere where your little Death Eater friends could have done the job for you."
"You're off your rocker," he told her, his voice hard and cold, "The only one we were after was Potter."
"And yet Ron and I are his best friends!" She spat back, "What, is this all some big plan of Voldemort's old supporters to get the Mudblood and the Weasel and Scarhead back for defeating your precious master?"
His eyes flashed that same fire that she'd seen in the Forbidden Forest only months earlier, "Why does this—" he motioned between the two of them, "—have to be some part of a master plan of the Dark Side's?"
"Because the thought and probability of you actually being interested in me is inconceivable," she told him, her voice lowering, "You have your choice of pretty much any girl in this school; including some of the Gryffindors."
"That doesn't mean I want any of them," he informed her, his anger still evident, as was hers.
"Why the hell are you coming after me then?"
He didn't answer, and soon she formed a theory.
"Oh, I get it," she said, crossing her arms and looking at him, "You saw that Xander was interested in me, and you got jealous, didn't you? You are the type who thinks the grass is always greener on the other side. You only want what others have, and once you have it, you throw it away."
"Don't you even dare get under the impression that you know who I am," he warned her, "You haven't the slightest fucking idea who I am."
"Turnabouts fair play," she spat, her voice so riveted with hatred and annoyance that it shook, "You've thought for years that the only thing to me is that I'm a Mudblood bookworm who tags along with Harry Potter for the fame. You've always thought that, and you've been dead wrong."
"Then what does make the infamous Hermione Granger tick?" He questioned with sarcasm, "All of your exterior traits are the only ones you expose to people, so why is their assumed ideas of who you are so wrong if you won't show them who you truly are?"
"I could ask you the same damn question," she said, her voice quickly fading in volume.
There was silence between them, the tension so thick it almost made it hard for both of them to breathe.
"Look-" he began, but she held up a hand to halt his talking.
"You know what, Malfoy, it doesn't matter," she said, crossing her arms and running a hand through her hair, "We snogged; big deal. It was nothing more than that, and it never will be. You're who you are, I'm who I am, and we're never going to change. It's pointless trying to make something like this work when it seems that something is always blocking the way."
"Her-" he started, but she shook her head. He was becoming quite annoyed with being cut-off; he was definitely not used to it.
"Just go on with your usual Malfoy ways, and I'll go on with who I am, and we'll just live our lives," she said.
"If that's the way you want it," he said, his voice still cold and heartless; very unlike his behavior in previous days.
"It is. Just consider me another one of your infamous conquests," she said, turning away and preparing to leave the tree.
"So that's what it is," he said, his voice showing his sudden understanding.
"What?" She asked, turning back around.
He put his hands in his pants pocket and walked over to her, beginning to circle her as a vulture circles its meal.
"You," he began, his voice low and hard, "You are so afraid of something being real, that you find a way out of it every time. You don't want anything serious, so you dismiss things as 'conquests' or 'regular habits.' You are so damn afraid that something like a relationship will interrupt your schedule of what your life is going to be that you push away anyone who wants anything to do with you outside school and friendship."
He continued to circle her. She stared straight ahead, telling herself not to listen; but most of all, willing herself not to cry. He was getting to the roots of her innermost fear, and that scared the shit out of her. He was her enemy; he wasn't supposed to know what scared her the most, and he was slowly finding it out.
"You're so scared of being intimate with someone that you find an excuse in everyone to keep them at arms length. Potter is too dangerous; too many people are after him. The Weasel is too impatient and quarrelsome; you'd never get along with him. Finnigan; too indifferent. And then there's Mr. Vitrikson—the one who has charmed you into thinking he's different."
She opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it as tears welled up in her eyes.
"He's no different, Hermione," Malfoy's voice whispered coldly, "He's a man—just like all the others. You haven't dismissed him yet, but you will."
She willed herself enough not to let the tears overflow her eyes. He was really hitting a nerve, and she wanted nothing more than to hit one of his.
"Then along comes the one you never expected: your greatest enemy; your arch-nemesis," he purred evilly, knowing he was really touching on something she didn't want to think about, "And he breaks through those barriers; he's intimate with you, and you with him. Suddenly you realize, once you've had time away from him, that he's gotten through those walls you've built; of all people, your enemy has seen your vulnerability. So you find something in him to push him away," he pauses for a moment, standing behind her and talking quietly in her ear, "Draco Malfoy, once a fighter for Voldemort; evil through and through."
She took in a deep, shaking breath as he finished, "The one person who has touched you, and he's the one you fear the most."
"Screw you, Malfoy," she said as she turned, looked at his cold, arrogant face, and walked away, leaving the shelter of the willows.
That bastard, she thought to herself, what gives him the right to think he knows what's going on with me?
But she knew in her heart that everything he'd said was true. He'd gotten to the root of the problem, and there was no way he was going to forget it.
He stood there, watching the willow branches move from where she'd left. He felt a little pang of guilt that he'd caused her pain, but the Malfoy arrogance and pride made him realize he had won. He'd beat her at mind games, and he'd found out just what was truly the problem with Hermione Granger and men.
I don't need her, he told himself as he left the willow as well, she's just another woman.
But in his heart; yes, even Malfoys have them, he knew she was the one he wanted; and she was the one he would get.