Inclination

Chapter Eight

As Atlas held up the sky, so do you crave someone to support you. The world becomes too heavy, too quickly and you kneel into prayer. You pray to whatever is out there, listening – anyone will do. All you need is an epiphany. All you need is something to hold onto. Slowly you begin to drown…

Once upon a time there had been a boy called Draco Malfoy. He had blonde hair, a sharp nose, grey eyes and an aristocratic jaw that made him look older than his years. Life had been easy. He'd woken up every morning, had breakfast, gone to school and then late at night slept like a baby. There had been nothing too complicated – just a routine that could easily be bent to his will.

Then there had been a girl. Not just any girl, but THE girl. The kind that makes a boy dream of sharing everything he has. Everything about her had altered his universe. Suddenly colour was more than colour itself.

Romance had been too easy, tangling them up in a world of teenage angst. They had been caught up in a whirlwind of stolen kisses and meaningful looks. It had felt like real magic, transcending everything they had ever felt before. This was shiny, new and beautiful.

The end came though with a bitter chill. They couldn't stay together in a reality that hated them. Everything seemed at odds with a love that, to them, was unbound by the laws of physics, biology, and chemistry. So they had separated.

That was the exact same time that everything began to complicate itself around the boy. One day he'd woken up and found that he was no longer allowed the innocence of youth. Draco Malfoy was a man and he would have to fight head on to stay alive. Living in the past was too painful a thought to survive by, so he had discarded the notion of love. Instead he would work himself to the bone.

Time passed turning the present to the past.

Not only did the man lose his childhood and the girl, but his mother. It had been a harsh blow, which had knocked him off his knees. His pride lay in shards around him, as he'd clasped his hands in front of him and cried himself dry. Narcissa's death had been the funeral of his hope. The house was no longer a home which he felt welcome in.

Draco couldn't bring back his dead mother though. It hurt that everything didn't stop and grieve for her. There was just a brief hiccup where everyone looked in on the family. They would see the grieving son and the heartless father, then turn away. Earth kept turning.

There had been the dark mark, the pain, the death. None of it seemed to reach past his defences though. His work was a job that had to be done. The only personal involvement he had in it was the thrill of vengeance.

'I'm not sure this is such a good idea…' whined the soft voice to the left of his ear. 'People might get the wrong idea…'

Draco smiled to himself. It was the kind of thing someone said when they were nervous. He liked the fact that he had this affect on Hermione – making her question herself. It was a brilliant power trip.

Turning to face her, he released her hand and smiled a predator smile. 'It's a little late now,' he said in soft arrogance as he grabbed her waist, pulling her flush up against him.

It had been a long time since Draco had felt someone this close to him. There had been women, those poor wretches that felt they were the one for him. They would stand battering their eyelashes, twittering like birds, and all the time hoping that they would be chosen above all the others. Well, there had been times where a Malfoy wasn't too picky. Without a shadow of a doubt, he had used every single one of them as a release. Sex was sex, and there were some things a growing man needed.

Never though had his conquests lived up to his expectations. They were weak, feeble and needy. They were the kind of women who wanted to cosy up next to him when he was finished, and coo in his ear about how wonderful it had been. Hopefully they saw the whole picture when he stood up coolly, dressed and left without leaving any hope of further communication.

Draco Malfoy the womaniser and bastard extraordinaire.

This was different though. Liaisons would come and go, but love was something a little more difficult to shake off. Hermione Granger had been the girl of his dreams in every sense of the word. She was the first, and probably only, woman he had committed to entirely. During his last months in Hogwarts, she had been the object of his happiness and despair. Leaving her could have been the biggest mistake of his life, but she needed to be free.

When Narcissa had died, it had been Hermione that he had prayed to. Never had he admitted it, but she was the closest thing to a saviour he had ever seen. Her love was a force to be reckoned with and it forgave all. She was a comfort within the eye of the storm. No higher entity would ever embody her earthy love of life.

He knew that this was wrong. Again he was allowing himself to become caught up in that old tune. At this moment in time though, he couldn't seem to care enough to let go. This moment had been a long time coming. Even those who deserved nothing should be allowed indulgence in a dream.

'I think you're a little too close…' Hermione mumbled sheepishly.

'Shut up Granger,' Draco said wrapping his arms round her waist. 'For once just relax. We're too consenting adults, dancing to pass the time. What's so wrong with that?'

'The question is, what's right with that?' she replied with a hint of venom to her tone. 'When you said dancing, I didn't expect to be this close to your groin!'

His fingers gently brushed her hip, as his other went to feel the exposed skin on her back. 'I remember a time when you wouldn't have minded being this close.'

'That was a long time ago.'

'Do you regret it?'

Hermione remained silent, moving her head to rest on his shoulder. Her body seemed to relax a little as they danced in slow turns, and she became accustomed to the close proximity. Still she refused to answer the question, which annoyed Draco somewhat. It was almost as if she wanted to pretend they had never existed.

'Sometimes,' she whispered into his shoulder. 'When I remember what it felt like to be left, then I like to forget. I had to move on.'

'I know.'

A sigh escaped her lips, and her arms moved up to circle his neck. 'Do you regret it?'

'Not once,' he replied softly, not wanting to say it too loud in case anyone heard. 'It could possibly have been the best moments of my life.'

Hermione moved her head and looked into his eyes. They were searching for something, like the hint of sarcasm or creeping of a lie. It was probably the last thing she wanted to hear, especially now. Not only was she spoken for, but she was stood in the middle of school, surrounded by kids who looked up to her. Wasn't Christmas the time for sharing though?

'I'm sure there have been better times…' Hermione whispered, never breaking eye contact. 'Our time together was brief, to say the least. We weren't exactly happy at the time, what with sneaking about and lying to our friends.'

'Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that what you did? I don't remember ever having to sneak around or lie to my friends. I also wasn't the one who pretended to fancy their best friend, in an attempt to get over me,' he said gently, with an air of a chill about his tone. 'As I recall it, you were the one acting like a Slytherin'.'

A red hue tainted Hermione's cheek in an angry flush. 'This is what you call a truce? Telling me all the mistakes I made, and not mentioning any of your own! It takes two to tango you know.'

'I would keep your voice down if I were you,' Draco drawled with a hint of menace. 'That is if you want to keep this our little secret?'

Her mouth became a thin line, with her eyes narrowing at him. 'Don't worry. I wouldn't want people knowing that I gave you the best moments of your life.'

A smile tilted his lips wearily. These were the games he liked best – each one trying to better the other in a flurry of harsh words. What used to happen afterwards was always better though. They would kiss long and hard, until they itched to be closer then their clothes allowed them. Happy, long, lost memories.

'Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere else,' he whispered in her ear, allowing himself to look at her neck. 'I can see you're getting a little hot under the collar, so to speak.'

'I don't think so,' she said coolly. 'I wouldn't want to tarnish your good reputation.'

'Ten minutes is all I need. We need to talk about this…' Draco continued to lull into her ear, rubbing his hand over her back in a circular motion, dipping lower.

'Ten minutes?'

'Ten minutes.'

Hermione pulled away from him, her head tilted to one side. He knew she was summing up whether he would try something. It was too easy to fool her into thinking he wanted to talk. What he really wanted to do was be alone with her so he could kiss her, away from all these prying eyes. Maybe if he did that he would be able to flush her out of his system.

'Okay. Ten minutes. Nothing more, understood?' she said with a determined glint to her eye.

'Understood.'

This was exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. Weasley had told him under no certain terms were he to touch Hermione. It was a danger to the mission. It was a danger to her wellbeing. Of course she was right when she'd said all of this. Being close to Hermione had a way of making Draco lose all sense of reality. Instead of being cautious though, he followed other parts of his body. There were some things that were beyond his control.

Soon they were wandering down a corridor, towards the school exit. She obviously didn't want to be anywhere where he could take advantage. All that trust that he had gained whilst at school had been lost by time. There was no way she was going to take his word as being the truth. Or maybe it was because she didn't trust herself with him…

Reaching forward, Draco grabbed her arm and spun her round. 'This will do. After all, we are working and it wouldn't be good for us to stray too far from the flock. Who knows what they might get up to?'

That was when he realised something. Hermione was scared. Her entire body looked so crumpled now she was away from the prying eyes. No longer was there a sparkle to her eyes, but the weary look of age. She looked tired and frustrated. Most of all she looked nervous, which made him frown.

'What's wrong?' he asked softly, reaching out and brushing a finger over her cheek.

'I…' she stumbled on her words. 'I can't do this anymore.'

'Do what?'

'This,' she motioned between them. 'I can't pretend that there's nothing between us. The problem is that I want to believe there isn't. This is too much pressure on me… I thought that if I just forgot, then I wouldn't have to remember. Does that make sense?'

'Not really,' he said in a casual tone, shoving his hands into his pockets. 'Unless you're trying to say you still want me bad.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Get over yourself! I don't want you "bad", as you so eloquently put it. I just can't pretend that we have a past. Being near you makes me…uncomfortable.'

Did he want her to feel uncomfortable around him? Maybe that was what he wanted all along. Draco wanted to get under her skin, make her remember what they had had together. He'd wanted to push her into feeling for him again. After everything he'd been through, he wanted his faith back – wanted to believe in someone again.

'That isn't exactly my fault Granger,' he said with a raised eyebrow, wanting to seem uninvolved with what she was confessing.

'It is your entire fault!' she said with force, stamping her foot like a spoilt child. 'Why on earth did you have to get a job here? Now? When I'm so close to moving on to a better life?'

'A job is a job. I can't help it if my services were needed here. Or would you prefer that the students of Hogwarts didn't learn potions?' Draco asked, his patience beginning to slip. Why did the woman have to be such a pain?

'Draco…' she whispered as she looked down at the ground.

'Back to familiarity now, are we?'

Hermione took a step closer to him, turning her face to look up at him. 'I'm tired of fighting.'

Suddenly, she was closer then he'd expected, her body brushing temptingly close to his own. Her face was creeping nearly to his, and his rational thoughts seemed to fly out of the window. He couldn't quite fathom what was happening. Hermione had gone from angry to…whatever this was, very quickly.

Their lips touched gently, a spark flying between them at the contact.

Moments passed slowly, like the slow opening of a flower at the end of winter. Yet at the same time things were actively fast. Hermione had her arms wrapped round his neck, kissing him in frenzy. Not that Draco minded – in fact he was in exactly the same state of drugged passion.

It had been a long time since he'd felt this free and alive. His mouth roamed her mouth, plundering it with a force, as she made little noises to drive him crazy. Her hands had moved to his chest, and were fisted in his closed robes, pulling him close and holding him there. Draco's hands had made themselves busy with her body. He trailed them over everything he could possibly touch, just trying to find some stability in the way he was feeling.

'Draco,' Hermione whispered, breaking away from the kiss abruptly. 'We can't do this.'

'Why not?' Draco questioned.

'I have a boyfriend. A partner. Someone I can rely on more then anything else. I can't do this to him…to us,' she continued to whisper, her eyes glancing up and down the corridor. 'Us, we're in the past. We're just memories…'

'Then why did you kiss me?'

'I did not kiss you! You kissed me!' she screeched indignantly, letting go of his shirt as if just realising she was holding it in the first place.

Draco shrugged, leaned forward and kissed her neck with soft butterfly-like kisses. He wasn't going to fight with her. All he wanted was for them to be closer then they were. Personally he couldn't see where the complication lay. If she wanted Draco for a quick fling, that was fine with him. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and he knew she wouldn't want a relationship. For one thing there were too many secrets.

'Stop it,' she whispered without force or conviction. 'We can't do this. Not again.'

'One night,' he replied. 'It's Christmas. No one would ever have to know. We could just pretend we were young again. We could pretend we still loved each other like we used too. Just for one night…'

'It's never just one night with you,' Hermione said as she pushed him away.

'At least I know what I want, which can't be said for you,' he bit angrily. 'The day you decide what you want will probably be the one I die.'

'Please…don't toy with me like this…' she whined appealingly.

'Do you want me Hermione?' he asked in a seductively soft tone.

'Maybe.'

'Then I can't see how one night together would hurt.' Of course it'll hurt, he added silently. It would be like dying to lose her again, but he couldn't risk giving up. What if there was a chance he could make this work…against all odds.

'One night…?' she asked, her eyes pleading with him to give up.

'One night.'

Hermione nodded to herself. 'One night it is then.'

…surrounded by air. There's nothing physical left to claw to, but an undying faith lingers in the waves of silence. It's almost like poetry the way your thoughts jumble together. Atlas held up the skies, the heavens and the world, but never your burden. Then one night you'll realise, like an angel, that you're alive. Begin to breath, held up by love's sweet light.