The Passion of a Dragon
By: xKatx
Author's Notes: Wow! You guys like it a lot! lol I don't think I've ever gotten such a big response for one of my stories! :-D keep it coming!
Update on my NEW STORY: I've got fourteen pages of notes/plans/ideas for my new story! I've been researching it all—every little thing that could possibly be in my story. I've gotten my information from www.hp-lexicon.org It's a really nice site that has SOOOO much info your head will pop off if you try and remember it all! lol But I suggest it to any HP writers who want to be more thorough and correct in their descriptions/settings/etc. It's a very good site!
Anyway, the title of my new fic I'm planning is Substitute for Love—a D/Hr fic. After rereading the fifth book, this story really came together and I'll give you guys a summary and a rough-release date on it ASAP! Until then keep reading and keep reviewing! ::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
WARNING: Immense amounts of fluff and stuff in this chapter—this one is definitely rated PG 13, probably bordering R (mention of sexual acts, but they are NOT described!)
Another Note: There are pieces of The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet in this chapter—I DO NOT OWN ROMEO AND JULIET! The awe-inspiring mind of William Shakespeare does! I just changed a few things (NAMES in different parts...you'll see)
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Christmas was coming fast for the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was the second week of December, and by now everyone in the school, at one time or another, had seen the Head Boy and Girl walk down the hall, hand in hand.
"Do you think they're the ones for the prophecy?"
"Can you believe they used to be enemies?"
"He's so gorgeous—why couldn't he have chosen me?"
"She's changed a lot—maybe enough to finally catch him!"
Whispers followed the two anywhere they went, but Draco and Hermione didn't mind—much.
Xander continued to be one of Hermione's close friends, much to Draco's displeasure. Despite his promise to Hermione not to get jealous, at times he couldn't help it. He still didn't like Xander; he didn't trust those green eyes, nor what was behind them.
The only true place they found solitude was in the Heads Dormitory, or in their respective house dormitories. Hermione spent a lot of time with her friends, ironically discussing the careers they wanted to take after they completed school.
"Auror," Harry had immediately replied. No one was surprised, considering his long and distinguished past.
"I really just want to be a homemaker, like Mum," Ginny informed them. Hermione completely understood that; Ginny was like a younger version of Mrs. Weasley; whenever someone was hurt or sick, Ginny was immediately there taking care of them.
"What about you, Ron?" Hermione questioned as they lounged around the Gryffindor common room that day, all seven of them sprawled on chairs and loveseats.
"I've been looking into being an Auror as well," he admitted, "I mean, damn, we've had enough experience just being friends with Harry," he gave his best friend a grin. Harry returned the gesture.
"Come on, 'Mione, you can't tell me you aren't interested in being an Auror either?" Ron questioned.
She shook her head, "No, I am interested: that's number one on my lists."
"What's number two, librarian?" Seamus cracked, immediately being hit in the head with a pillow.
"Oy! That is not Head Girl behavior Miss Granger," he said, receiving another pillow in the stomach.
"That's mature," he grumbled.
The six others laughed at the sight of Seamus pouting on the loveseat next to Parvati.
"What about you, Lav?" Ginny questioned, after establishing that the Golden Trio all wanted to be Aurors.
"Well, I wouldn't mind working in the Muggle Relations department of the Ministry," Lavender admitted.
"That's a good department," Ron said, sitting back and taking her hand in his, "Lot of good people, Dad says."
"Well, while you three go and fight evil and Lavender promotes good relations, I want to work for Witch Weekly," Parvati said, and glared at the boys when all three of them snorted.
"What?" She asked.
Harry shook his head, "Nothin, it's just we've bet since first year that that's what you'd end up doing."
Parvati shrugged, "Well, I'm not about to work for the Quibbler or the Daily Prophet."
"Why?" Hermione asked.
She shrugged again, "Too boring."
The friends couldn't help but laugh again, considering anything that didn't deal with celebrities or fashion bored Parvati.
As the others kept talking, Hermione's mind wandered. Draco was no longer a Death Eater or would-be Death Eater... what would he do with his life after Hogwarts? She doubted he would become an Auror, and she doubted he would work entirely for the Ministry. She tucked that question in the back of her mind for the next time they had a good conversation.
"Hey, 'Mione, any clue what Ferret Boy's gonna do?" Ron questioned, having become accustomed to nodding greetings at Malfoy whenever necessary (Draco, of course, did the same).
She shrugged, running a hand through her loose, curly hair, "I don't know; we haven't talked about that."
The others accepted this answer, but Hermione couldn't help but continue to wonder.
After bidding her goodbyes, Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, heading for hers.The realization of life had hit her hard that night; seventh year of Hogwarts was almost over—what would happen then? She and Draco were still new and somewhat naive about their relationship; would it just end after graduation?
She reached the portrait, giving a half-asleep Elvira the password. The portrait hole opened, and Hermione stepped into the common room and found Draco lounging on one of the couches in a pair of black pajama pants and a black wifebeater. She was suddenly glad she could now openly admire him.
"Hey," he greeted her with a smile, looking up momentarily from his book.
"Hey," she replied, returning the smile. She dropped her bag by the door and went into her room to change out of her school uniform. She pulled on a pair of black pajama shorts and a crimson tank top. She ran her fingers through her naturally wavy hair and applied some vanilla chapstick to her lips.
She returned in the common room to see he hadn't moved. She picked up her bag and moved to the table.
"What're you doing?" He questioned, looking up from the book once more.
"Homework, Mr. Malfoy," she informed him, crossing to her room to get one of her books.
He raised an eyebrow—she was doing homework for a class she wouldn't have for another week?
She re-entered the common room with the book, crossing in front of the couch in which he was sitting.
In one smooth movement he took hold of one of her arms and pulled her down into his lap.
She was shocked, but didn't say anything until she realized he'd done this intentionally.
She put the book on the table in front of them and then sat back, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
"Hey," she said, with a grin after breaking apart.
He raised an eyebrow, "I thought we'd already greeted each other?"
She shrugged with a smile, "Maybe, but I hadn't had a chance to greet you properly."
He nodded in understanding, "Well then, allow me to do the same."
He pressed his lips to hers again, tasting the vanilla on her lips as his tongue darted to the seam of them, requesting entrance. She gladly obliged.
"Are you spending tonight with me?" He questioned against her lips. Hermione had told him in the beginning that she was chaste and wished to stay that way until she found someone she wanted to be with. He respected her immensley for having decided that, considering he'd been raised in a house where all of the girls were there for the men to use; they were nothing more.
So, rather than Hermione's decision halting their relationship, they decided they could spend the night in each others rooms, but nothing more than...ehhmm... minor clothing could be removed (Hermione had laughed when he'd come up with that solution.)
She looked at him, "If you want me to," she replied. She knew how he liked his solitude, and she respected it.
He pressed a kiss to her lips, "Would I have asked if I didn't want you to?" He questioned.
She smirked, "I suppose not," she looked at the page he was reading and raised an eyebrow.
"The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet? I thought you'd finished that ages ago!" She said, resting her head on his shoulder, his hand landing just above her knee.
He shrugged, "It's one of my favorites."
"Because they both die at the end? How romantic, Dray," she said with a roll of her eyes.
He looked at her with a smirk, "No, because they go against everything for something they're not even sure will work."
She raised her eyebrows, "Well well, how interesting."
He nodded with a smile as she put her head back on his shoulder.
"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Malfoy.
What's Malfoy? It is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Draco would, were he not Draco call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Draco, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself," she recited, replacing 'Montague' and 'Romeo' with his name.
He smirked at her, "All from memory?"
She shrugged, "I had very uneventful summers over the years," she admitted.
"I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Draco," he said, looking at her while reciting this. She looked into his gray eyes, feeling like she was sinking into them. He had that affect on her, somehow. She skipped ahead in the dialogue of the scene, placing her hand on his shoulder and resting her chin on it.
"I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered," she replied, her voice a very low whisper.
"Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--," he began, fully knowing she was going to interrupt him.
"O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable," she interrupted, moving so she sat completely on his lap, her arms around his neck.
"What shall I swear by?" He questioned, his voice low and somewhat husky.
She smirked and got up, moving to her bedroom door, fully knowing it would tease him.
"Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee," she said, turning around to open her door when she felt arms around her waist, a strong torso behind her.
"If my heart's dear love--," he whispered, his voice even more husky than before. She turned around, his arms going around her, his gray eyes staring down into her brown ones. She felt like he was reading her very soul; those powerful pools of melted steel learning every hidden fear, every dream, every memory...
"Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night—" she said, but was cut off by his lips, powerfully crushing hers with a need that seemed indescribable to both of them. She kissed back with the same intensity, her arms going around his neck as he lifted her, bringing her to his room; the ever-present chilliness of this area of the tower hitting her back as he opened the door, their lips never separating from each others as he brought them in, shutting the door with a sharp snap. She was amazed at how easily he held her; then again, as she ran her hands down his biceps, she realized why it was so easy for him to hold her.
He lowered her onto his black and emerald silk-sheeted bed, his hand running through her hair. She opened her mouth as his tongue requested entrance, feeling warmth spread throughout her entire body.
Due to the lack of oxygen, he pulled back, looking deeply into her eyes, his hand brushing at her curly hair, moving it away from her face.
"You are so...beautiful," he said, still catching his breath.
She smiled, "I never thought I'd live to hear you say that," she admitted.
He smirked, "Neither did I," he told her, pressing his lips to hers again, not being able to get enough of her. She was like fire in his arms; fire he needed to survive. She was the air he needed to breathe; the nourishment he needed to live.
She moaned into his mouth, sending him nearly over the edge. Her skin was like fire on his, burning, but tempting; he'd never felt so many conflicting emotions at one time, and it was a little intimidating.
She felt his arms holding her close to his body, and she felt like the most adored creature in the world. He made her feel everything that no one else had, and she had to voice it.
"You're amazing," she told him as he pulled away from her, letting both of them breathe again.
"How?" He asked, watching her brown eyes close in an attempt to regain her breath, her ruby lips swollen and puffy from his intense kisses.
"I don't know, but..." she trailed off, "You make so many things happen to me at once it's almost incomprehensible."
He smiled at her, "I know how you feel," he told her, "You do the same thing to me."
She smiled, "Listen to me," she said, putting her hands on his face, her thumbs gently caressing his face. His gray eyes watched her carefully, prepared to listen to what she had to say.
"No one," she whispered, "Will ever bring those feelings to me like you do," she said. He looked at her questioningly.
"I know you've been getting jealous over mine and Xander's relationship; I see the look in your eyes whenever he hugs me," Draco rolled his gray eyes, prepared to deny it, but she brought his lips to hers, pressing a kiss to them before looking at him again, "It's you, Dray; it always will be you, all right?"
He nodded, smirking at her as he kissed her again, trailing kisses from her mouth, down her chin, to her neck. She tangled one of her hands into his silky, silvery-blonde hair. Her breath came in short puffs.
"Dray," she said, her voice breathy. There was a long pause before she gained her voice again, making a decision.
"What?" He asked her, looking up from her neck and deeply into her brown eyes.
She looked at him squarely, "Swear thy love but physically," she said, using Shakespeare's language, fully knowing he would understand.
He did.
His eyes went wide, "Are you sure?" He asked.
She smirked, "Would I have said anything if I wasn't?" She repeated his former statement.
He smiled, "All right," he agreed.
The night was spent in pleasant splendor as Draco Trysten Malfoy and Hermione Elisabeth Granger both learned what true love feels like; for once in their lives.