In the Cold, Cold Night

By Cedar1

Thanx theseus, maggie, Forever Dracula's Bride, unclear-meaning, CreekneedCharlie, total-nirvana and Thallion for all your lovely reviews. This is kindof the chapter where everything comes together, only one short part left to go after this.

Disclaimer: Characters JK Rowling... lyrics The White Stripes

Thanx to my beta jewel!

In the Cold Cold Night

And I know that you feel it too,

When my skin turns into glue,

You will know that it is warm inside

And you'll come run to me,

In the cold, cold night

In the cold, cold night

Chapter 5: And I know that you feel it too

He pulled the cigarette out of the packet, and was slightly dismayed by the fact that he couldn't feel that many left. It was a dirty habit. His mother used to shout at him every time she caught him in the bathroom, smoke wafting around the expensive gold fittings, and the sinful filter resting between his fingers. She used to say it wasn't refined, that it was the common hobby of the idle that had nothing better to do. With the raise of his eyes to the skies he made a silent apology to his dead mother.

Sorry Mum.

And then he took a deep puff, closing his eyes as the nicotine hit the back of his throat.

That's for you Dad.

Lucius Malfoy was as addicted to cigarettes as his son was; of course his wife knew nothing of it.

He tilted his head back, resting it against the rock, and looked up at the sky, like dark velvet pierced by a million diamonds. He wondered if they looking down at him... probably not. He took another puff. His father had not been pleased to find out his son had deserted the side of the Dark Lord in favour of a man he had often referred to as 'a fucking bastard.' Draco had never had the guts to inform his father of his choice. Instead, he had skulked away one night, head full of conflicting thoughts and the need to find Dumbledore causing his feet to pound the ground as he sprinted away from Malfoy Manor. Perhaps if he had not been such a coward his father would have had a shred of respect for him, even if it was never spoken. It would have been better than how it had ended – a dying father refusing to see that 'traitorous bastard of a son,' while shackled in an Auror prison.

Sometimes he considered it, going back to the dark side. After all it was expected of him. Nobody trusted him. He may not be book smart, but he could read people, the way their eyes narrowed when he came into a room, their constant shifting on their seats if he happened to sit next to them. What did they think he was going to do, murder them in a room full of Aurors? Stupid idiots. Although, truthfully, he had thought about it, just to see their reactions. It would have given him a moment of laughter before a dozen killing curses came his way. It wouldn't have been a bad way to die. Would probably be quite painless. Anything would be a lot better than what he could see in his future. Torture. That's what he saw, earth shattering torture. Could he expect anything less? They kept sending him out with only a bit of parchment telling him to go to some random location in the wilderness where he would hopefully, stumble upon a group of Death Eaters, be caught and then be killed. Fine, maybe the words 'caught' and 'killed' weren't mentioned, but he saw it in their barely hidden smiles as they gave out his orders, and every time he came back he saw the surprised looks on their faces as if to say, 'What, not dead yet? Oh well there's always tomorrow.' And what if he did die? Do you think there would be a grand ceremony, a sobbing mass crowding around the gravestone? Fuck no! Those privileges were saved for the real heroes, the Weasleys of the world; no, he'd be lucky if someone even bothered to dig a hole for his lifeless body.

The thoughts should have had him crying in despair, but instead he felt nothing, not anger, not sorrow, just a sense of right. Of course people mistrusted him; years of family background couldn't be easily forgotten plus a sudden change of heart. If someone told him that they had gone from being evil to being good in one sleepless night he himself would have thought they had a hidden agenda. So, no, it was right for there be no one else there at his funeral other than him. No one cared about Draco Malfoy other than Draco Malfoy.

What about her? came that inner voice that messed with his thoughts and his mind.

What about her?

What about her?

He took another deep puff, his lungs inflating, filling up with pleasurable smoke. He held it in for as long as he could before he breathed out, and watched as the blue threads of smoke that escaped his lips float up to join the night air.

Why was she always causing problems, making his life difficult?

In school, she had humiliated him on several occasions, whether it be at the tip of her wand on the Hogwarts train or the palm of her hand. His father had hated her, perhaps even more so than he did Potter. A mudblood besting his son, his pureblood son, it was beyond the limits of his self-control. Whenever Draco would come home in the summer afflicted by yet another assault of curses his father would pace up and down promising his son that he would make sure they got their just returns, while his mother tended to his various boils and enlarged limbs. But the problems she caused this time were different, they weren't affecting his body but more his head and even more so his heart.

Was it love?

He didn't know. He knew he thought about her each time he came back from a mission with the need to be in her arms, in her house, coursing through his body. That was just need, wasn't it? Lust, a craving for a warm body, something to bring warmth to his cold life.

Yet somehow in his muddled mind, there had been a shift. She was no longer just a woman, she was Hermione, his Hermione, bossiness and irritating traits included, and he didn't even care.

Shit. Why was she always screwing him up? He didn't need this any more – confusion. It was that fucked up feeling that first made him run away and ruin the future he had always thought he would have. At the age of sixteen he was so sure of himself... leading Death Eater married to some stunning pureblood by the age of twenty-five. But what was he? Some messed up adult playing Auror and struggling with the possibility that he may actually have genuine feelings for a girl he had hated with a passion for most of his teenage years. God, what would his father say?

The question and the possible answer made him reach for another cigarette.

"Do you mind not smoking?" Her voice came out clear and strong, cutting into his thoughts.

He was determined to ignore her, and pluck one out of the packet and light it up right in front her, determined to show her he didn't care what she thought, that she hadn't screwed him up. However, he found himself withdrawing his hand from his pocket empty.

"Thank you."

He didn't reply, just gave a curt nod.

"Why are you being such a coward about this?"

He laughed. He hadn't meant to, it just came out, the irony of the statement having tickled his humour.

"Who would have thought it, Lucius Malfoy agreeing with a mudblood."

He hadn't seen it coming, the pale hand whipping through the air heading in the direction of his cheek. He only felt the stinging sensation it left on his skin as an after affect. He had a feeling it would be the second time he had her hand print embedded in his flesh, and once again he deserved it. He looked into her eyes for the first time since she had come, staring into the burning brown orbs that crackled with anger, hoping she would realise that what he was about to say next was the truth.

"I'm sorry."

He could see her shoulders shaking with fury and what's more the glistening tear that was forming in the corner of her right eye.

"Don't ever call me that name again."

She cut him off before he had chance to apologise again.

"And don't ever mention me in the same sentence as that hideous man."

That guilty emotion that had descended upon him evaporated away with that remark.

"That hideous man was my father." He could barely here his own voice, the tightness that had taken over in lips reducing his words to a mere whisper.

"He was a murderer first," she screamed back at him, her cheeks glowing with the redness that had exploded on her cheeks.

"Fuck you!" He yelled back. How dare she? So Lucius Malfoy hadn't been the perfect specimen of a father, he was still his father. Still the man that had given him Quidditch lessons when he was five, still the man that had taken him to buy his wand, still the man who had allowed the young Draco to drink a glass of wine at Christmas despite his mother's obvious disapproval. He wouldn't let her taint his memory of the man, and he began to walk away from her.

"Why do you let him take over you like that?"

He stopped. He shouldn't have but curiosity got the better of him.

"What?"

"The only reason you were a bastard to me at school was because your father told you to be. The only reason you went out with Pansy Parkinson was because he told you to. The only reason you went to all those Death Eater meetings was because your father wanted you to."

"What? You think my father would have wanted me to join Potter and his gang?"

He saw the smirk that formed on her lips in slow-motion.

"Sorry were you expecting a medal for a belated attack of consciousness."

Now she was making a mockery out of him...

"I don't need this, and I don't need you."

He began to move once again, his body full of angry energy. His hands had curled into fists by his side, so tight that his knuckles had blanched ghostly white. He was walking so fast that he could no longer feel her presence near him. The smell of her perfume was no longer tainting his skin with its sweetness. He was putting distance between himself between himself and her when she suddenly brought him crashing right back by her side with a final remark...

"The only reason you won't come back to me is because he wouldn't have liked it.

And don't give me this bullshit about not needing me. You need me as much as I need you.

You love me as much as I love you."

And I know that you feel it too,

It was so easy to deny the truth when it was never spoken, but when somebody else says it, it's always so much harder to ignore.

He could hear her footsteps as she made her way to him and held his breath as her hand landed on her shoulder.

"Are you saying you feel nothing when I do this?" Her fingers began to journey along the curve of his neck, exciting all the tiny hairs on his nape. He wanted to fight it, wanted to prove to his father that he was the son he always desired, but he couldn't resist it when she twisted his head so she was facing him.

"That you can't feel goose bumps exploding on your skin when I put my lips against yours?"

He fell into her, feeding off the warmth and happiness she filled him with. And he forgot. Forgot the fact that all opportunities to prove his worth to his father had gone and realised that it didn't matter any more. He was the past, as were his friends, their opinions were just barriers in front of his future... Hermione. He wasn't alone. He had her and that was enough for him.

"When you put your arms around me I feel like I'm melting, melting into you. You're the same aren't you?"

When my skin turns into glue,

To his disappointment, she broke of their connection. He stared at her swollen lips and watched as they curved and shifted when she next spoke.

"Well you know what I'm not going to wait for you. I've wasted too much of my life waiting.

But you know I'm right. You'll be knocking at my door tonight wanting me to let you in because you know I'm the only thing in your world apart from ghosts. Ghosts who can no longer love you like I can."

You will know that it is warm inside

And you'll come run to me,

00000000000000000000000

She walked away from him her heart breaking in her chest, fragments peeling off one by one. She felt sick, bile creeping up her throat. Its bitter taste coating the taste buds of her tongue. What had she done? She had been so angry; the words had just left her mouth without any thought behind them. A sudden wave of coldness hit her as a breeze from the south came sweeping past her.

In the cold, cold night

She stood still as realisation hit her. This was how she was going to be for the rest of her life: body numb, mind blank, heart dead.

In the cold, cold night

Then it happened. A warm hand landed on her own and fingers entwined around hers.

She turned around and found herself staring into silver eyes, and she knew that cold nights were a thing of the past.

A/N tried not to get too fluffy at the end, but what the hey. So please review if u've read till here cheers!

Luv Cedar1