The Only Rational Act

by Three AM

When nothing seems clear, believe in the highest magic and trust in the only rational act.

Title: The Only Rational Act

Author: Three AM

Rating: R

Author's Notes: This is my entry for the Spring Forward with Draco and Hermione. I specially dedicated this to Vashka, whose request may be seen at the end of the story. Hope you like it.

Disclaimers: JK Rowling owns everything.

Summary: When nothing seems clear, believe in the highest magic and trust in the only rational act.

---

And though the world would never understand
This unlikely union and why it still stands
Someday we will be set free
Pray and believe…
- You'll be Safe Here, Rivermaya

I can still remember the day I was first born.

It was pouring hard that day. The dark clouds thickened by each passing minute. The icy wind blew hard, the leaves and branches of the tress lined up the streets swayed and threatened to break apart. The thunder rolled repeatedly, making the threat of the storm more profound and terrifying.

It was cold, dark and forbidding.

I didn't care.

I blinked and found myself staring at her dark wooden door. I was surprised at myself because for the first time in my life, I did something so ridiculously outrageous. I traveled from work in Birmingham to her home in London, without any conscious thought of how I got there. I apparated perhaps, then I probably walked. I realized I was soaking wet, down through my knickers. It was like my feet had its own mind and they just took me where I was meant to be, even though I tried my damnest hard to deny it.

But I found that I couldn't. Everything just pointed me back to her and it fucking hurt.

I stared at her door for long agonizing moments, with the rain as my only companion. For a minute my mind was a total blank, asking myself how and why I was there. The thunder rolled again. I remembered then.

There was this unexplainable feeling, earlier in the middle of my meeting with the rest of the investors in my business that suddenly overwhelmed me. I surprisingly thought of her, a strange tightness clenching my heart. I found it hard to breathe and I had to grip the armrest of my chair. I couldn't explain it thoroughly as I wanted to. It seemed such moment of uncertainty was simply indescribable and that one could only learn its meaning through acting upon it.

And acted I did.

I cut off the meeting, watching as the executives exchanged confused looks with one another. But the hell I cared. I stood, walked out of the room, of the building and went straight to the apparition point. And there I was.

In her door. Freezing. Staring. Waiting.

I suppressed a shiver, crossing my arms across my chest. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the door. It was fucking cold and I suddenly wanted to lie down in anything. Her rag looked inviting, so I slid down against the door then hugged my legs to my chest. I rested my head in my knees, feeling so damn tired, helpless and numb.

I had to admit it to myself. It is time, I said quietly. I had to stop running away, I know. I had to quit lying to myself, that I would be doing fine without her. That I was still the same after meeting her. That my life would be better without her in it.

Everything was a lie.

She was a brave Gryffindor. I was a sly Slytherin. She was a loyal friend, if not one of the best. I was a cunning traitor to my breed and blood. She was a hero of the war, fighting in the front line together with her friends. I was a hated spy, hiding in the shadows and then fighting against my Death Eater associates. She killed evil wizards, saving the whole world from sinking in to darkness. I killed everyone, my father and mother, my Slytherin acquaintances who saw me as their friend, drowning myself in guilt and dishonor.

She was purely beautiful. I was filthy with the Dark Mark in my arm and the dirty bloods of those whom I mercilessly killed tainting my hands.

I couldn't completely understand why she chose to be constantly with me. Our relationship was a big question mark. Nothing was really definite. We were playing a dangerous game. We were risking everything for something so vague and unstable. We would hit our climaxes every night. We would fight, spat at each other for reasons I couldn't quite remember.

She would dominate me with her burning kisses and I would state my authority and claim with my own branding marks on her skin. She would roar with such fighting intensity and I would strike back with poisonous words laced with dangerous venom.

She was my drug to my sanity. She kept me awake through the cold nights, wanting those moments to freeze so she would stay in my arms, cuddled against me, forever. She kept me ignorantly blissful in my dreams and made me want to just sleep eternally. She kept me breathing. She rendered me speechless just by the picture of her in my mind standing before me in her naked glory. She awakened my so-called romantic side, bringing her sweet nothings like an impromptu bouquet of roses. She stirred up the deadly fires within me, submerging ourselves into sweet throes of hot passion and surrendering to each other with an overwhelming sense of completeness.

Ours was a totally strange affair.

Something suddenly touched my feet. I started and looked down. It was her bloody cat.

I reached down and buried my fingers in his orange fur. I stared at him blankly, not feeling anything but a gaping emptiness. I felt pathetic, being numb for an unknown reason.

He caressed my leg with his head, meowing every now and then. I was a bit surprised he was this close to me. I got the feeling he detested my very presence for whenever I'm with his mistress, he usually walks out of the room, his head high and superior. Amused as I was at the parallelism of the mistress and her pet, I couldn't bring myself to smirk and laugh at the moment. I was curious though, why was he suddenly pawing me?

He meowed again and again, his paws scratching my soaked robes, though not really tearing it. Still, I stared at him uncomprehendingly. He seemed to notice my lack of understanding for he went to my hand this time. He stroked my hand with his head, then he circled repeatedly at where he stood. He looked up at me and made noises again and again.

Suddenly, I got the feeling he was trying to tell me something. She said he was intelligent, him being a half-Kneazle and all. But what was it?

I watched him scratched at the closed door, his sharp paws leaving marks on the wooden door. I thought she wasn't going to be amused with that.

"Crookshanks," I called. "Stop that now. Your mistress isn't going to like that."

But he continued to paw at the wooden door, meowing yet again. Then it hit me. She would never leave her beloved pet outside her house, especially at a time like this when it was raining so hard.

I quickly stood up and turned the knob without a second thought, only to find out it was locked. Instinctively, I reached for the inner left pocket of my robe, and cursed. I forgot my wand in my office! Then I swore for the second time, remembering she blocked her home from apparition and the floo network. (For safety precautions, she said) I looked down at the cat again. He was looking up at me, almost expectantly. I swallowed hard, fighting back the first taste of panic.

Focus. I need to focus.

That was what I told myself repeatedly, as I looked around her neighborhood. The streets were empty, with the rain still pouring down hard. Somewhere not too far away, the thunder and lightning rumbled again.

All of a sudden, I saw Crookshanks strutted toward the side of the house. Hope flaring in my eyes, I followed him. He continued walking briskly to the back. When I turned the corner, I saw him circling at the step in front of the back door. I got there and he meowed again. Before I can ask him and myself what the hell we were doing there, he swiftly went through the small cat door at the bottom of the door.

Fan-bloody-tastic.

Finally, the old me was back. I felt myself getting angry, at the bloody cat, at myself, and at her! Hell, I even blamed the fucking storm. Why the hell was her house locked? Why did she ever block it from magic anyway? Why did I blanked out and left my fucking wand at the office? When did I ever get so stupid forgetting such a trivial thing like carrying my wand at all times? Why the bloody hell was it raining? All of my robes were of the expensive tailored kind and now it was fucking ruined! I was soaking through my bones and I hated every damn freezing moment.

Why did I come at her house in the first place!

Why indeed?

I stopped, feeling the agitation and anger slowly draining out of me. I stood so still in front of her closed back door. The rain continued to splatter at me almost bitingly. I stared at the door.

Because…

I think…

Realization then came to me at that instant.

Her back door has a rectangular stained glass in the middle. If by any chance her door was locked only, without any magical interference, then maybe I could get in. I poured all of my anger and energy in my hand, clenching my fist so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Then I hit the glass and fortunately for me, it broke. Shards of glass flew inside the room. For a moment I saw my fist with scratches of blood but I didn't care. I quickly drew my hand in the hole and found the knob from the inside. Fervently praying to whatever god who's listening, I turned the doorknob and heard a soft click. The door opened ajar.

I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the door open.

I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes to the dimness of the room. Her kitchen was empty and it looked cold and depressing, the gloomy clouds and the heavy downpour providing no light. Then I saw Crookshanks waiting at the bottom of the staircase, his golden eyes attentive and bright against the darkness.

I rushed forward and run blindly up the stairs with a strong strange sensation running through my veins. I couldn't think clearly. I couldn't think of anything else but find her!

I let my emotions overrule me this time.

For the first time in my life, I let my heart beat freely.

I reached her room, and with an unexplainable fear stabbing painfully in my chest, I opened the door.

She was there, lying in the middle of her bed, with the sheets tangled messily around her legs, sleeping.

And I started breathing again.

I walked carefully toward her, not wanting to wake her up. The thunder and lightning bellowed again and I silently swore at it. She stirred.

I looked outside her window and predicted that the storm would continue for hours more. Realizing that the rain was going inside her bedroom, I quickly closed the windows and drew her curtains shut. Then everything was still and dim, except for the faint light from the small lamp at her bedside table.

I sat at the edge of her bed and stared down at my sleeping… lover? We never really spoke out loud what we were to each other. Sex was a convenient stress-reliever back then. And next it became a habitual routine, every night, every chance we could snatch to be naughty and carefree. Now, everything became more complicated as I went in deeper.

Feelings weren't originally included in our mutual contract.

She stirred again and made a small noise. She shifted to one side and clutched the blanket in a gripping hold. She looked as if trapped from an awful nightmare.

After hesitating for a second, I began shaking her, trying to wake her up. But she kept on groaning almost painfully. She wouldn't open her eyes.

I then began calling her name. I noticed my voice sounded urgent… almost fearful. She was in my arms, yet she still felt so far away from me. I steadied her sweaty face with both of my hands cupping her cheeks. I kept calling her, hoping she would finally cling to consciousness and just come back to me.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes with a loud terrified gasp and she would have bumped her head with mine if I hadn't been cradling her face in my hands.

"Steady. Breathe slowly," I instructed calmly. I gently pushed her soft brown locks away from her face.

Thankfully, she listened to me and did what I just said. And silently, I extended my deepest gratitude to that greater magic above.

"It's ok. You're safe now, Hermione," I whispered.

She stared at me and I could see comprehension was slowly dawning in her eyes.

"Draco?"

Duly noted.

"Yes?"

"You're soaking wet!" she exclaimed. She quickly sat up and looked at me. "And your hand! It's bleeding! What the hell did you do, stayed all night in the rain? You know that was stupid."

I stared at her blankly as she ranted on how I could have gotten sick and how careless I could be. I liked that about her. She seemed to be concerned for me whatever happened.

"Where's your wand?" she asked briskly.

"I left it… at my office."

"What!" she huffed. "Sometimes I do worry about you."

I smiled but she didn't notice. She was looking for her wand and when she found it, she healed my hand and cast a drying spell on me. Then I wasn't shivering anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked all of a sudden.

I'm not sure. I suddenly got this really strange feeling in the middle of my meeting that I just have to go to you. And you see, I like watching over you. Do you know that you are like an open book when your wonderful eyes are closed and your mind wandering freely in the land of dreams? I'll tickle your nose and mouth and ears just to see you scrunch up your nose prettily, then you will snuggle closer to me.

And when you are dreaming, sometimes you smile. I know you're having a good dream and then I'll hope it is about me. Yet there are those times when I just want to tuck you safely inside my arms and never let you go, because I can read through your subconscious motions that you are having your usual nightmares. During those times, I curse the War. And then I'll remember that I was in it too… and then I'll curse myself.

"Draco." I heard her call my name softly. "Are you all right? You spaced out there for a moment."

You really are a perfect Auror, have I told you that? You seem to notice just about everything.

"I'm fine," I finally answered.

"I'll ask you again, what are you doing here?"

There was so much I wanted to say, but I felt it just wasn't enough.

"I wanted to see you," I replied noncommittally.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" I smirked. I brushed my lips softly against hers.

"I want to hear your real reason," she persisted.

"I don't need a reason just to see you."

She looked away for a fleeting moment. I noticed it nonetheless.

"Because…" I started to whisper, my heart beating fast and loud. I wondered if she could hear it. "Because…"

Can I really say it?

My sweet spitfire angel. She looked at me, her dark chocolate eyes seemingly probing and reading my inner mind. Sometimes, I thought she was too good at it. And at that moment I wondered if she could read my real thoughts and feelings for her.

It was fucking scary.

"Do you know," she started to say softly. I instantly felt relieved to have that moment interrupted. "I was having a nightmare just before you woke me up."

"That's quite obvious," I smirked, though not my usual confident smirk.

"But it wasn't like the other nights. It wasn't the same old nightmare I keep on having before," she proceeded, ignoring my comment. She licked her dry lips.

"You, Draco," she answered my unspoken question. "It was about you."

She has a nightmare about me? What the fuck?

I tried my best to force the hurt back, somewhere totally dark and deep where I would bury it later together with the pain I felt when I was still in the fucking loving care of my dead parents.

"You hate me that much to have a nightmare about me, Granger?" I asked, in what I hope was a casual tone. "And here I thought I'm finally getting more than to your knickers."

It must have wounded her a bit, but I couldn't know. I was staring at the wall behind her.

Silence.

The rain continued to go crazy as hell as it came down painfully loud against the roof. Thunder and lightning rolled again.

Then regret flowed through me, hating myself more for what I just said. Just when I was about to say something to make up for my mistake, she continued. And her words froze me to the spot.

"You killed me."

What!

She stared at my chin. "We were here, in this very same room. You were hugging me and kissing me and comforting me because at that moment I felt desolated… and lonely. I didn't know why. Then you had your wand at your hand. And you pointed it at my temple and—"

"Stop."

She looked up at me, fear clearly painted in her eyes, and I nearly died at the painful knot in my chest. I almost hesitated to touch her, to assure her that it was nothing but a nightmare and it would never come close to reality. That she would never lose me.

But I was scared myself.

Do we really stand a chance with being together? What if something like that happens for real? What if the Dark Side will come back and force me to kill the only woman I love?

Love?

"I could never do that to you, Hermione," I said, staring straight to her eyes, silently pleading. "I'd rather die than do something like that to you."

She was still eyeing me strangely and I suddenly felt anxious.

Doesn't she believe in me? For all the things I did and sacrificed for her, why couldn't she trust me now?

"Believe me," I pleaded softly.

"Why?"

I wondered how a simple single word question could stun me into silence. Why indeed?

"B-Because…" I started stammering.

This is it. The moment I confess my true feelings for her…

Wait, what true feelings!

"Well…Why not? We've been fucking since after the War. You know me now better than anyone else, I presume."

That should have been enough of an answer. Apparently, I never learned. An explanation as pathetic as that could never satisfy my spitfire angel. I could clearly see anger, hurt and regret surfaced in her eyes.

I took a deep breath and scooted closer to her. I knew I had to say the right things. Now. Before she totally left me for good, and the things I wanted to say wouldn't be said anymore. The problem was, I didn't know what those right things were.

"Let me tell you a story?" I asked. What in fucking hell!

She raised a brow at me and clearly, she thought of the same thing. Great minds think alike, as they said.

"Once upon a time, there was a prince who lived in a palace," I started. I clearly didn't know where I was headed but what the hell. "He was spoiled and arrogant. At a snap of his fingers, he could easily get whatever he wanted. At one command, he could get all the riches in the world lying at his feet. But the prince felt lonely, for he was always alone with no real friends to talk to and play with.

"His parents, the king and queen, doted on him, gave him everything he wanted. They showered him with gifts from all over the world. They offered him the greatest future ahead, what with all the treasures they owned. But still the prince felt sad and deserted, for he received nothing close to affection from them at all."

I stared at her eyes as she listened. I continued, "One day, the prince met an angel. He quickly despised her, for she represented everything he ever dreamed of. The angel made thousands of friends and she was always happy being with them. She had a good home, for she was always brimming with love, ready to share it with others. But above from everything else, she had a pure heart, always willing to see the good in everyone."

I stopped for a moment, hesitant to continue the story. But I knew I had to. Once I started it, there was no turning back.

I tried to summon all the courage there was in me and moved on with the tale. "The prince really didn't know why the angel continued to be with him. He kept on hurting her in every way imaginable, but she was strong and determined. She stood her ground and fought against him. She taught him the wonders of life, just when he thought everything was dull and hopeless. She gave him the attention and affection he so craved and longed for all those years. She offered him hope. She became his redemption. Soon, she broke the prince's cold defenses and…"

And I left the tale hanging in the air.

"And what?" she prodded.

I stared once again at her deep chocolate eyes. My cold hand grasped her warm ones.

The prince fell in love with the angel.

"Would you like a happily ever after?" I asked her instead, proving why the Sorting Hat didn't put me in Gryffindor.

She straightened and pulled her hand away from mine. One step forward, two steps backward.

"Why are you asking me? I thought this is your story," she said coldly.

"That's the ending," I concluded flatly. Bloody hell, that's my ending!

"Malfoy, no fiction story ends like that," she said in that bossy-know-it-all tone, which I thought was utterly sexy.

"Well mine does," I stated stubbornly.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Figures. Only your twisted mind can create something as insufficient and horrible story like that."

"It IS a brilliant story!" I defended. Hell, that was OUR story!

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"Your imagination's worse than I thought."

That stung a bit. But I refused to back down. "My imagination's just dandy, thank you very much."

She rolled her eyes as she lied down in her bed once again. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and hugged her pillow tight. Unconsciously, I glared at the unsuspecting pillow.

"You're hopeless, Draco. If you don't have any other pressing business with me, please, you know where the door is," she said, dismissing me so suddenly, which surprised me a bit. Well, it did hurt too.

She turned away from me, and at that moment I knew I couldn't leave. I couldn't suppress a strange feeling that if I did leave her right then and there, I would have lost her for good. For real. And that was the very thing I hated.

The very thing I feared.

I have to do something NOW.

So I lied down beside her, and with her back against my chest, I wound my arms around her and embraced her warm body tightly. I buried my face under her untamed curls of hair. Her smell was familiar to me now; she always smelled of sweet lavender.

I closed my eyes and let my hands roamed free to her familiar body. My hands went up to her breasts and satisfaction filled me as I thought how they perfectly fit in my hands. I groaned as I reflected how she rightly completes me.

I felt her shift against me and I smiled. I pulled her closer, if that was even possible. My lips found her nape and marked her with butterfly kisses. I teased her ear as I nipped her earlobe. The slight sound of her exotic moan stirred my groin.

It was really ironic how I thought I had the upper hand, but in complete honesty, I knew she had me. Hook, line and sinker.

All she needed to do was ask anything and I would give her more than everything. All the galleons in the world. All the castles and manors there were. All the libraries and museums that she seemed to love so much would be laid down on her feet.

All my life…

My life? But she's my life.

She arched her back as my hand went down to her very center. Fuck, but she was so hot and wet. My fingers curled around her nightgown, impatient to take her then and there. Instead, I forced myself to rub my hand against her hot spot and I heard her whimper my name.

She is mine. And only mine.

I turned her around and our bodies fit automatically as I placed myself on top of her. I leaned down and rest my forehead above hers. Our noses touched. Our breaths became one.

Dark brown pools gazed up at my own gray eyes.

"Hermione," I breathed. I pulled up her soft silk nightgown and tossed it somewhere behind me. She must have caught my intentions for she fumbled with the buttons of my robes and trousers. Impatient, I quickly disrobed and pushed down my pants and underwear.

"You…" I ripped her knickers off, not caring if that was the hundredth underwear of hers that I tore. Hell, I would buy her a whole store of clothes if she so wanted.

"Are…" I lapped at her breasts, causing her to rake her nails down my back. I didn't care if she wound me. I rather liked it whenever she got feisty and wild in bed.

"Beautiful."

I entered her fully, groaning out loud at the burning tightness closing around me. I heard her call out my name repeatedly as I thrust in and out of her. Without hesitation. Without stopping. Without the rest of the world's unjust discrimination.

"My story," I managed to say hoarsely. "It has no ending."

She reached out and dug her hand through my hair. "What? Why?"

I kissed her forehead, then her nose, and finally her swollen lips. I could feel myself close to coming but I had to say what I have to say. Before I lose my nerve. Before I lose her.

"Because," I panted out, still not stopping in pounding against her. "Their story goes on. Their lives go on. Their love knows no limit. Until the day they die…"

She kissed my cheek and wound her legs around my waist, clinging to me tightly.

"Until they reach the unknown world…"

I could feel her breathing in the hollow of my neck, her hips meeting mine in perfect rhythm.

"Until the time they are born again…"

I leaned back a bit, seeking her eyes with clear yearning and hunger. "Hermione, I think I got it all figured out."

She stared back at me, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I get everything now. It all makes sense to me now!" I tried to smile but I had to close my eyes and let myself surrender to the honest bliss surging through the whole of me.

I cried out her name and she screamed mine. I came inside of her, the same moment she burst with all passion and devotion. I kissed her once again as the final tremors died down and until I was sure that I could support myself without my limbs shaking from our glorious union.

I felt thoroughly complete. Truthfully exultant.

Loved.

"I understand it, Hermione," I whispered so softly, but I knew she could hear me amidst the downpour outside.

She looked at me.

"Love… It's the only rational act."

She smiled. That special smile I knew she reserved only for me.

And I smiled back at her.

I then noticed how her eyes were getting misty. She nodded, letting me know she understood.

She always understood.

Slowly, she put her warm hand to my face. Then she wiped something running down my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and hugged her tightly, knowing she didn't care if I crushed her with me still on top. I burrowed my face to the hollow of her throat. I felt her arms going around me too. I felt safe and protected. I never felt so warm before.

She nestled me in her arms through the night until my tears died down.

xxx

Spring. It blooms with new fragrance. It colors everything with new existence. It is all about new hope.

It brings new life.

And today, is the second day I am born.

I watch as my bride walks down the red aisle and I stand at the end with the minister. Beautiful isn't enough of a word to describe her. Soft thin white robes cling to her body, making her look like a fallen goddess on earth. Her wild hair is speckled with little buds and petals, courtesy of the audience in the sidelines. Then her mesmerizing brown eyes catch my dark gray ones.

No words are spoken. No gestures are needed.

We understand what the others can not. It is just between the two of us. A secret we will keep until the day we die.

Until the time we'll be born again.

xxx

The end…?

But there's no end. ;)

xxx

Name/Pen Name: Vashka
Are you over 18: Yes
Rating(s) of the fic you want: R
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: Romance
One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: Crookshanks
One common cliche you don't want your gift to include: Bimbo!Hermione

A/N again: This fanfic is inspired by the song You'll be Safe Here by Rivermaya ('Maya astig! XD) and the book Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch A. It's a good read and I highly recommend it to every one of all ages and sex. ;)