Disclaimer: Lalala!
Author's Note: This next bit has some very graphic stuff, just to warn you. Oh, and does anyone else share my pain in moving? I'm moving right now and I've realized that packing is the devil. I'm not kidding- it is the devil incarnate. I mean, packing is so stupid- you put all of your belongings into boxes and then, what, 24 hours later, you take all those same belongings out of their boxes. I mean, I understand the necessity for it, but honestly, could it be more annoying?
Thank you from the deepest fathoms of my heart to my reviewers, and thank you so much, those who had suggestions. I'm sorry for speeding the time frame so considerably, taking like one paragraph with two months. I will try to be more thorough. I thought you all might be getting bored. Woops, you do not want to hear (or read, whatever) me talk. Love you all!!
Chapter 6: Several Compromising Positions
Hermione left the bathroom with her hair in a tight French braid and her plaid pajamas. She saw Malfoy sleeping on the couch, a distraught expression on even his sleeping face. She stretched herself on top of him and brushed his hair from his face, kissing each closed eye in succession.
"Draco," she said softly. Obviously, he was a light sleeper as well; his eyes were open nearly before she said his name.
He sat up and she got off of him.
"Listen, Draco, I know it might be weird after what happened tonight, but would you mind if I slept in your bed?" Yes, she knew it would be awkward and all through her shower she was thinking of it. But, what was more important, the security she felt in his arms when the threat of Lucius Malfoy was so close, or avoiding the sexual tension that was liable to follow them anyway?
"That's fine, I'll sleep on the couch."
"That's not what I mean," she took his hand and stroked her fingers across his palm. "I want you to be there with me."
He nodded in understanding of her plea.
They approached the bed and looked down at it- it was a danger zone for sure. All they could do was contemplate it, standing on opposite sides, unable to get in or look each other in the eyes.
"Okay, I have a solution," Draco said, finally looking at Hermione.
She met his eyes. "I'd like to hear it."
Draco created a long body pillow in midair and plopped it into the center of the bed.
"There, no physical contact."
Hermione smiled and crawled into her side. She could just see the side of Draco's face and his soft hair cascading across it.
"Good night, Draco," she said softly, yawning enormously.
"Good night, Hermione."
She curled herself against the pillow, tucking one leg and arm under it while clutching her other limbs atop it. Draco did the same and smiled after a time of lying there as he could feel her toes kneading his calf rhythmically in sleep. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and soon was asleep himself.
Hermione lay upon a hard, metal table, as if in a muggle operating room. She lay helpless as she saw the beautiful Lucius Malfoy, the spitting image of his son in an older form, grace towards her. There were no words, nothing but silence until she felt his smooth, strong hand upon her foot, pulling it to the corner of the table. Suddenly a loud, mechanical shriek filled the air, slicing the silence.
Hermione squirmed to a sitting position to see a muggle screwdriver whirring in Lucius' free hand, the other with a strong grip on her left foot. The screwdriver was lowered slowly and horrifyingly to her ankle, and Hermione screamed out in terror. She clawed the metal with her short fingernails and kicked with all the strength she possessed, but Lucius was infinitely stronger than she and won the battle without so much as a struggle on his part. The pain was sudden and intense. She could feel the thrumming sharpness of the thick screw drive into skin, eating away at her flesh slow and grisly. Then it struck her bone and she could hear the crushing, grinding movements more than feel them. Her mind had gone blank in pain and it was so overwhelming that she couldn't even scream or cry, simply lie there blankly, unable to believe what was happening to her. She then felt the screw hit the table beneath her foot and knew that she was more or less trapped.
Lucius moved on to do the same to the other leg and then both of her wrists, pinning and trapping her against the table, unable to escape him.
He then climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. He tore at her clothing, revealing her bare breasts and fondled them unmercifully. He tore her crotch open before unzipping himself. There were no soft touches or loving movements, but simple and pure hate, physically created. He plunged into her so violently that she screamed from the very pit of her soul and allowed salty, blood stained tears to fall from her face and down her naked flesh.
As he rocked back and forth, digging in and out of her, growing larger and harder, tearing her flesh with every movement, he took a long, thin dagger from the inner folds of his robes and slowly, with each thrust cut her. First making a clean, smooth line above each breast, then below; he continued with the lines of her stomach, then jabbed above her collarbone, and ran the blade to her neck. The blood flowed so thickly that her senses became blinded by it entering her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. She could feel her lungs fill with her own blood and she fought painfully for breath. Through a veil of red, she could see the damnable face of Lucius Malfoy lift the dagger high above her; she knew it would be for the final plunge.
The dagger rose in slow motion and she felt her flesh start to melt from her own blood, sweat, and tears. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of the dagger plunge into her heart. And as she felt the blade penetrate her flesh, just between the tops of her ribcage, she bolted awake, screaming at the top of her lungs, tears cascading down her face.
Draco had been awoken by his companion's soft whimpers. He leaned over the body pillow that separated them to see Hermione's body drenched in sweat, crying softly, her left leg twitching horribly. He threw the pillow aside and tried desperately to wake her.
He whispered her name, but there was no response. He shook her and she only seemed to be more stricken with terror at his touches. Slowly, he began to panic; Hermione was never so agitated as this- even in her sleep. He straddled her, shaking her shoulders violently, trying with all his might to call her out of her darkness.
She continued to rock in her sleep, her cries becoming louder and more alarming. Draco ran to his sink, and poured the largest glass he had full with water, then ran back to Hermione, drenching her in the cool water, only making her shiver and shake harder.
Finally, since none of his efforts were making a bit of difference, he sat against the headboard and took the shaking Hermione in his arms, rocking her softly and making as soothing of sounds as he could muster. He was terrified by this- what could she possibly be dreaming that was as horrible as this?
After what seemed like an eternity of her cries growing louder and more terrified and her tears falling like raindrops in the previous night's storm, she awoke, bolting forward, making Draco hold on tighter than ever.
She was sobbing uncontrollably and everything she said was completely inaudible. She clutched Draco to her and wept into his chest until the dream, the reality, had passed.
"What was it?" he asked softly.
Exhausted, Hermione answered gently, "Your father."
"A Lucius Malfoy dream is never good." Draco tried to laugh, but found the unhappy girl in his arms created a lump in his throat when the laugh tried to escape.
"Hermione, what was it?"
Hermione let out a soft sob once more.
"He..." she had to, she told herself. The only way she could live through this dream would be to tell Draco exactly what had happened. "There was a muggle electric screwdriver... and... he screwed my foot to a table. Both of my feet... and my hands..." she sobbed into his chest awhile longer before beginning again. "Then he climbed on top of me and... and... he... he..." Why was this the part of the dream she hated most? He killed her, for goodness sake, but, no, that's not what bothered her.
"Did he rape you?" Draco asked quietly.
Hermione nodded, more relaxed now that he had said it. Yes, that was all he had done. Just raped her, nothing more gruesome or horrible than that. Yet, did one have such a disgustingly sinister look on his face when he raped? She remembered his eyes, and there had been no pleasure, the only pleasure he found were her screams and tears and blood.
"And then?" he asked tentatively.
"Then he..." she reached her hands to her breasts, feeling that they were there. "He cut my breasts off."
Draco winced and looked at her breasts, just as relieved as she was.
"He cut me all over, with this long dagger that was so sharp. I was melting into the table and screaming so loud and finally, he just killed me." She ended the statement in such a factual way, it was hard for Draco to take in the effect of what she had said.
"You dreamt of my father killing you?"
Hermione nodded, but this time the tears did not return. She was warm in Draco's arms and felt safe. She brought her hands to his hand that had a death grip on her arm, making sure not to let her go. She squeezed his hand gently, and rested her soaking wet head against his chest once more. Draco rested his chin on the top of Hermione's head, closing his eyes at the beauty of the moment.
"Draco?" Hermione asked quietly, slowly falling into a more peaceful sleep.
"Yes?"
"Don't let me go."
"Never."
They woke the next morning in the same position- Hermione curled tightly in Draco's arms and Draco holding on to her tightly. Though instead of sitting innocently against the headboard, they were curled under the blankets, lying sideways on the bed, unable to see the morning sunlight when it filtered into the room.
Hermione turned in Draco's arms, still fixed to him like glue. "Draco," Hermione kissed his forehead lightly, "it's time to wake up. You have class."
Draco's lids fluttered and he caught her lips in a quick kiss before yawning awake and freeing her from his arms. They both sat up in bed, realizing that they had spent the night curled together in a bed. The inferences could be lethal.
Draco went into the bathroom and returned in clothing- tight, gray pants and a black turtleneck.
"You look absolutely smashing," Hermione laughed as he caught her around the shoulder and walked to the kitchen.
"What should we have for breakfast?" he asked, opening the refrigerator.
"You're not going to the Great Hall?" she was taken aback.
Draco shook his head, "I'd rather be here."
She smiled to herself, and then joined him in the refrigerator, gathering the ingredients for pancakes.
They shared a happy breakfast together at the small table, talking about anything but the night before and thoroughly enjoying themselves.
"Draco?" Hermione asked as they were cleaning their dishes.
"Hermione?" he retorted.
"Would you mind if I came to class with you?" she muttered under her breath.
He stepped back and looked at her, narrowing his eyes and gathering his eyebrows quizzically.
"I just really don't want to spend the day alone... and..." she averted her eyes as much as she could, "I'm going die, so what have I got to lose?"
Malfoy thought for a moment then nodded, "That's true. How will you do it? Camouflaging spell?"
"I guess so."
"It's just so detectable if you're not still."
"I guess I know something else that could conceal me," she made circles with her toes, slightly ashamed of the thought.
"What?" he asked suspiciously.
"Harry has an...um... invisibility cloak."
"What are you suggesting? Stealing Potter's cloak?" Draco looked at Hermione and when she made no denial, he gasped in astonishment. "Hermione, I am shocked. That's the last thing I need- Draco Malfoy sneaking into Potter's room and stealing one of his most valuable possessions."
"Who said you would get it?" Hermione asked innocently.
"You're going to get it?" his face revealed further alarm. "That's even more shocking."
"I've been thinking that I really need to talk to Harry as it is, and I think this will be the perfect opportunity." Draco didn't seem convinced; as it was, he seemed more upset. "Oh come on, I'm going to die, remember?"
"Fine," Draco drawled, turning away from her. "How are you going to get to Potter?"
"Your first class is with him, right?"
"Yes."
"Then, I'll use the camouflaging spell just to that class, I'll walk beside you against the wall, so that it will be a little harder to see me, then I'll... just talk to him."
"Oh yeah, that'll work. He'll shout your name all over the place."
"I'll tell him to be quiet," she assured him.
"Whatever, if you're caught, you're not with me."
"No, I know. Don't worry." Hermione's plan was perfectly formulated and ready to be put in action.
"What the hell!" Harry shouted in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"Shh," Hermione's voice whispered in his ear. "I promise it's me."
"Hermione?" Harry's voice seemed like it was going to break.
"Keep it together, Man," she said in a dignified voice, "I just need your help."
"Anything..." he was trying not to lose focus of his professor at the front of the room, but was finding it difficult, with his fiancée's voice in his head.
"What's the Gryffindor password?" she breathed, terrified of revealing herself.
"Tea leaves tell no lies."
"What?" her voice returned to normal at this bit of news.
"Shh," he whispered urgently, when a few heads turned his direction. "Lavender's prefect this year."
"Oh, great," Hermione breathed sarcastically.
"Yeah, I know," Harry allowed himself a quick giggle at the thought. "Anything else?"
"Do you know what Malfoy has next class?"
"Ancient Cultures," Harry said after a moment of thought, "Why?"
"No reason."
Hermione placed a quick kiss on the top of his head, "Thanks, Harry."
"I love you," Harry whispered.
"Mm hmm," was all she could manage before running out the door, causing quite the disturbance among the students and giving Draco quite the cause to panic.
End Note: Again, I am sorry for that torture bit. I didn't even realize how bad it was going to be until I was in the middle of writing it and I was like, holy crap, I'm describing a pointed, metal object being driven through a person's flesh and bone. Ewe. On a happy note, I finally figured out what the title is going to be. Not quite as funny or strange as I originally planned, but effective nonetheless. Yippee!