Chapter 12: Their First Kiss - Repercussions
By Callisto Callispi
Disclaimers: Don't own Harry Potter. Never have or will.
Author's Note: Here is the second installment on THE kiss. Things between Hermione and Draco are going to start heating up in future chapters! Woohoo!
Also, please keep in note that this fiction will make minimal references to the fifth Harry Potter book. Again, this fiction will make minimal references to the fifth book! See how that is in bold and it's italicized?
* ... * thoughts
### change in view point of the same scene
Torn apart by rage and fear
Hold on to what brought you here
Don't let it go
Never let go...
"Never Let Go" by Josh Groban with Deep Forest
His kisses were amazing. So amazing, in fact, that Hermione felt as if her mind had been drugged. She could not function her own body for a few seconds. Her hands would keep pulling him closer to her instead of pushing him away. Her lips would respond to him instead of closing off his advances.
Hermione struggled to regain her senses. He wouldn't stop. If he didn't stop, she wondered how far they would truly go. She was terrified at the thought.
In an effort to break away when she still could, Hermione moved her lips away from his, rolling her head off to the side. Their kiss was broken. Their connection, however, was not. Immediately, Draco began to run his lips, his soft lips, down her neck, kissing the hollow of her throat.
Again did a moan escape her. She felt her hands gripped his hair.
*No. Stop this! Stop him! THIS ISN'T RIGHT!*
"No...Malfoy..." she whispered hoarsely, her eyes still closed.
She could feel his hands starting to work on the buttons of her blouse, slowly unclasping the top one, then working on the next.
"Malfoy, please...stop..." she said, opening her eyes, her whisper louder.
His hands hesitated before completely undoing the button he work on, his lips pausing against her skin. She took this moment to untangle her arms from around his body.
"We must stop," she said, this time in a louder voice. Her chest pounded. Her breaths came in gasps, as if she had been running. Draco's hands slid down from her blouse. His lips slowly closed, and simply did he breathe in and out. His hot breath tickled her skin.
Quietly, clumsily, Hermione dislodged herself from him. Draco made no move to stop her. He lifted his eyes and watched her attempt to recollect herself. His hair, usually neat and combed back, was now ruffled. He looked as he did right after he dismounted his broom from a quidditch game.
Hermione quickly buttoned the top of her blouse back up. She smoothed back her hair and her ruffled shirt. Then, she stared up at Draco, feeling a hot flush flood her face. Her skin still tingled from his lips. Her lips still burned with the desire to feel his upon them. What was she supposed to do? Her mind repulsed this very thought. Her heart, however, desired it.
Draco still stood there, his body towards the wall, his face turned towards her. He avoided her eyes, and Hermione was glad that he did. She couldn't bear to face him any longer. She couldn't bear to touch him. She was much too mortified...and she was afraid to what touching him again would lead to.
"That's it, then?" he asked in a low, quiet voice. He raised his eyes to her face.
Hermione couldn't answer. She did not know the nature of this questions. She couldn't find her voice.
A few minutes soon after, Draco lowered his eye. Was it in shame? Was it in apology? Did he regret kissing her? Did he regret ever stopping?
"I was wrong, I suppose," he said once more, then stared at the wall, where, just minutes ago, she had been squirming against Draco's kiss. She felt a rush of shame at the memory. Her knees felt weak.
"We should have never..." Hermione trailed off as soon as he turned his gaze towards her. She looked away, not wanting to see his tired expression. "This...will never be..."
"Mentioned to anyone else? Surely."
Hermione felt a little bit relaxed. She closed her eyes. It was her first kiss. Her first ever. Draco Malfoy had given her her first kiss. She had always imagined the first to be so wonderful, so affectionate. She imagined that she would be left in a happy stupor afterwards. But why was it that she felt so used up? So dry?
"I should have never—we should have never done that," she whispered, shaking her head.
She saw, from the corner of her eye, Draco's head snap up. He took a step towards her but faltered as soon as she took a hop backward.
"You regret kissing me?" he asked her, his voice strangely cold.
Again, in the pit of her stomach, she felt the desire to run into his arms the moment that she saw his eyes. Only with the strongest will of her mind did she stop herself. He seemed to glare at her, angry for some odd reason.
"I think you regret kissing me," Hermione said softly. "I know it meant nothing. You don't have to act."
"You—what?"
Just then, she felt her throat heat up. Hermione glared. The clock below began to bong loudly. Hermione shook her head. "I know you think that I am one of your whores. Perhaps I was beginning to resemble one, for a moment there. But I stopped myself. I know that meant nothing to you. I know that this was only for your sick little pleasures."
Draco rushed up to her so quickly that she did not have time to step back. He grabbed her shoulders harshly, almost to the extent of pain. Hermione gasped, trying to wrench herself out of his grasp.
"How dare you even say that to me? You think that I am so degrading? So—"
"Yes!" she whispered furiously. "Yes, I do!"
Draco, his eyes wide, pushed her backward. His eyes burned into her face. Her breath constricted in her. He stared at her as if he were wounded by that remark, as if she had just stabbed him in the stomach with a knife.
Then, his face hardened. His stare for her, once soft and pondering, reflected nothing but cold anger and disdain. "You're right," he responded, his voice dripping with malice. "You are one-hundred percent right. That really meant nothing to me. You mean nothing to me."
She felt the corners of her eyes burn. Nevertheless, she nodded, scowling fiercely. "The feeling is mutual."
He suddenly lifted his hand, and from his finger, he pulled off a ring. He tossed it casually in her direction. Hermione's eyes flickered towards the ring. It was the ring...with his family's crest on it.
"Because I was unable to keep my earlier promise," he remarked coldly.
Hermione remembered...just the other night, in front of the infirmary, when he had told her that he would never...made advances on her without her consent. They had a wager...with his ring. He had lost that wager.
He spared her his glance for a few heart-wrenching seconds. Then he pushed past her. Hermione reeled as soon as his shoulder pushed through hers. She closed her eyes, willing the heat in her stomach to cool. She heard Draco's footsteps echoing through the dark hallway as he made his way through the dungeons. As soon as they completely disappeared and she stood there alone, she allowed her walls to crumble. She grabbed her heart and sank to the floor, staring numbly at the silver crest of the ring staring back at her.
###
Of course, he knew that this whole fiasco would not end happily. Both Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were always too stubborn for their own good. His quiet observations of seven years provided ample examples of their characters.
The figure shifted silently in the shadows, watching the girl's fists shake. He knew that she was willing herself not to cry.
He grinned, shadows drenching his features so he simply blended into the dark corridor. What he had planned to be a nightly excavation towards the painting with dragons proved to be much more rewarding. Draco had been angry at her reaction—he wasn't sure if he could say hurt, knowing what cold beings those of the Malfoy line were. If Hermione Granger did succeed in hurting the Slytherin, then he had to applaud her.
Patiently did the figure wait for Hermione to collect herself. As soon as she grabbed the ring, stood and walked away towards the Gryffindor commons did the figure emerge into the light. He sighed. What passion they held for each other. He was amazed how she broke off from Draco, and how Draco had so easily walked away from her. With his family ring thrown casually onto the floor.
It was a perfect time to exploit both of them after their current emotional trauma. Perhaps this off-and-on relationship between the two would work to his advantage.
Quietly, he steadily strolled through numerous, pitch-black corridors, guided by his memory and not his sight. Ever since last May had he been coming through this way. And every time, he knew naught how to penetrate through his target.
Soon, he approached the painting of the dragons: the one with the two dragons rising up to the heavens with the mob, hateful and irate for some odd reason, pursuing them. The man gently ran his hands down the surface of the canvas.
It truly was a beautiful painting.
"Ah...Salazar... What have you left behind? What did you want this painting to show?"
The man ran his fingers through his hair, pondering the symbolic representation of this painting. In the collection of his journals did he mention his remnants. However, there were many runes and symbols unfamiliar to his and his companions. They were not able to fully decode them. Then, before the complete translation of Salazar's recollections, Dumbledore had stolen them, right from under their noses.
The dark lord's death eaters did not take to foreign thievery well.
He stared into the eyes of the dragon: the bigger, more darker one with dark brown eyes and the other, golden one with shockingly blue eyes. Of course, it was obvious that the two represented Salazar and Rowena when he was courting her. It was, as the death eaters believed, just a minor attraction, but he used this painting to be the symbol of the gateway to all of his secrets.
Just then, he heard footsteps. His eyes narrowed. Dumbledore. Quickly, he fled the area. He hated running away, but currently, he was no match for a full-fledged wizard skilled in the area of charms (his personal weakness) and defense against the dark arts.
Oh well. He had until the end of the school year to solve the puzzle. He had always been quick at solving puzzles. With that assurance did the figure slowly melt into the shadows in his retreat.
Unbeknownst to him, the dragons' eyes glimmered.
****
As soon as Draco entered into his dormitory, he muffled his face with his pillow, choking back a roar of anger. Why the fuck had he done that? Why the hell did he do that? As if kissing a mudblood wasn't humiliating enough, she, in the end, had the gall to pull away from him!
He gripped the covers of his bed. His hands shook, threatening to rip the silk. He stayed in that position for a few minutes, lying face down on his bed. The trembles in his body slowly relaxed. Soon enough, Draco released the covers and slowly lifted himself up.
He stayed in the darkness for a few seconds, adjusting his features so they would reflect nothing but coldness. It had been hard keeping this face in front of her... Again, at the thought of her, he bit back a growl. His family ring. He had not wanted to give it away, but he never backed away from a deal. Besides, he held no fondness for it. He kept it due to the fact that his father wanted him to.
*Fuck Lucius. This is more important.*
Steadily, he pulled himself out of bed, headed towards the bathroom, and took a shower. He rubbed his body vigorously with a good amount of soap, as if to cleanse himself of the nightly activities.
"It was a mistake. A horrible mistake. It should have never happened," he said to himself as soon as he emerged, draping a towel around himself.
However, he could not stop himself from swearing rapidly under his breath. He cursed his own stupidity, he cursed her, and he cursed himself.
To add to his foul mood, just as Draco started donning his sleeping robes, the mark on his back started to throb. He swallowed a moan, set his lips in a determined line, and started to comb his hair as he stared into the bathroom mirror.
The throbbing worsened. He bit his lip, fearing that he would scream out. The comb dropped from his hands and landed with a clatter onto the floor as he fell forward. His hands caught the edge of the marble sink in time. His arms shakily supported him as he breathed in and out raggedly, wondering what the hell he did to deserve this pain.
Draco stared at the floor for almost ten minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. It was not until another ten minutes passed that he felt he could pick up the comb again.
He clenched his teeth. Unwittingly was he again reminded of Hermione. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the lingering scent of vanilla. He could almost feel her soft hands massaging the knots out of his back...easing the burning throb of the mark.
"Damn you, Voldemort," he snarled quietly. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and smirked. "I am your heir. What mortal lives forever? I shall be in power soon enough. Oh, how the mighty will fall."
With the comforting thought of seeing Voldemort bound in shackles, Draco walked out into the dark Slytherin commons with the intention of writing a letter to his father about his mark. However, just as he was about to light the fireplace, a voice stopped him.
"Just came in?"
The voice startled him. Draco raised his wand, and pointing it in the direction of the voice, though he could hardly see anything in this darkness.
"Relax. It's just me. Lumos."
He saw a small light on the tip of a wand. Draco smirked slightly and dropped his wand slowly. "Blaise Zabini."
"Correct."
Draco was seriously starting the despise this character. He showed up during the most inconvenient moments. Draco hardly favored Blaise's smug attitude towards him, either. It was as if the bastard knew or had something that he didn't.
Blaise smirked back. He was in his sleeping robes, lying casually back in the chair, holding an empty wineglass in his other hand. "I thought you'd be sleeping by now."
Draco rolled his eyes. With a spell he lit the fireplace. Soon enough, a warm orange glow washed over the commons. "What the hell are you doing up, Zabini? You have less of a reason to be up than I do."
Blaise laughed softly. "Aren't I entitled my share of the fun?"
"Did you have a shag or something?"
"You're not entitled to know about my private life."
Draco snorted and stood. "Hope she was good. I'm going to bed."
"Oh, Draco, by the way, how was your lady?"
Draco paused, his hand on the door knob to his room. "What?"
"I'm talking about Hermione Granger. Win her over yet?"
"Who the hell said that I wanted to win her over?"
Draco glimpsed over his shoulder to find Blaise leaning back in his chair with a small grin on his face. "I had assumed that you did."
Draco clenched his teeth. "You assumed wrong."
"Sure. Remember, though. What you don't claim, I will take."
"Whatever."
"And I'm sure," said Blaise quietly, getting up, "that out lord's heir will surely not involve himself with filthy, low-born mudbloods. They are, after all, those whom we are trying to rid the world of."
Draco narrowed his eyes. He turned around to face a solemn Blaise. "So you do know."
"Of course. The Zabinis weren't stationed in Rome and Madrid for all of these years for nothing."
"How many others know?"
"Very few. Those who attended the ceremony, some of the Roman factions, and, of course, me. Don't make enemies with me, Draco. My family has direct links with Lord Voldemort. Don't forget that we are the ones who had connections with the Slytherin bloodline for almost a millennia."
Draco felt an angry smirk crawl up his lips. "So you are my caretaker?"
Blaise shrugged. He had a smug look about him that made Draco even more frustrated. "More or less. After all, the Zabinis have looked after those of Salazar Slytherin's bloodline, nurturing them, protecting them. You are a part of his line now, are you not, even if not by birth?"
Draco turned around. "Do what you want. Just don't get in my way."
Just as Draco was about to slam the door in the bastard's face, Blaise stuck his foot next to the threshold. He grabbed Draco by the collar, slamming him into the wall. Draco was so stunned that he hadn't been able to deflect this move.
He grit his teeth, and just as he was about to punch Blaise away, Blaise dug his left shoulder blade into the wall, successfully sending sharp jolts of pain through his body, paralyzing his muscles.
"You stupid bastard," Blaise hissed, digging his back more harshly against the wall. "Do you believe that you can deflect me so easily?"
Draco laughed humorlessly, despite this new pain. Blaise, seemingly surprised by this reaction, loosened his grip. Draco took that opportunity to wrench himself away. He quickly socked Blaise on the side of his jaw. Though he couldn't get a full blow for Blaise had moved away from his fist, Draco noted with satisfaction that he had staggered back.
Blaise and Draco remained silent for a few seconds, both breathing heavily. Draco's chest expanded and contracted as he felt rage bubbling his blood. Blaise glared back up at him, rubbing his jaw. He licked the droplet of blood oozing out from the corner of his lips.
"Remember that you have no friends here, Draco," Blaise spat out. "There are those, even in the Slytherin house, whose fondest wish is to deliver your sorry corpse to our lord in hopes that they will become the new heir."
"I need no friends. If you're trying to frighten me into submission, I'll let you know that your attempt is pathetic."
This time, Blaise laughed a laugh completely devoid of humor. The flickering flames cast moving shadows across the young man's tan features. He seemed so much like a demon, then.
"Oh, you need all the friends you can get. Just because you are the lord's heir does not guarantee safety. You should know that."
"And you should know by now that I can take care of myself."
Blaise stared up at him, amused.
"Besides, I have a big, strong member of the Zabini family here to protect me. Why would I ever need friends?" Draco bit out with a sardonic smile.
"We'll see. Good night, Draco."
Draco forced a polite smile of his face. Just as he was about to close the door, Blaise stopped him once more.
"By the way, your father is coming here to Hogwarts on the seventh. Just to let you know...in case your affections for a certain mudblood get out of hand."
He closed the door, and climbing into bed, he couldn't wonder whether Blaise had seen Hermione and him by the library...
He turned in his bed, pulling the covers up to his chest.
*No. That's impossible. I didn't feel a presence other than Hermione and myself. I have had training...with them to ensure that those with invisibility cloaks could never pass me.*
He sighed and closed his eyes. Only those with exceptional skill in the dark arts, those surpassing him, would be able to slip past him. Perhaps Blaise was jumping to conclusions of Hermione and him... Well, it was all right, because other than tonight, he would offer no proof to solidify Blaise's claims. It wasn't as if he would ever kiss the likes of her again.
Draco smirked slightly. He had been planning to write a correspondence to his father regarding the mark. However, seeing as he would be arriving at Hogwarts in a few days, it truly seemed unnecessary. He just had to hope that Lucius wouldn't notice it gone. And if he did, then he'd just lie, saying that he was having it polished or something.
With those thoughts in mind, Draco fell asleep. But it was a restless sleep, plagued by visions
of Hermione...and a woman named Nícola de Lonclé-Navarra.
End Notes: Wow. Two short chapters. Shoot me now. I never thought that would happen. Now, it seems that I have been heartily neglecting to entwine Salazar and Rowena and the Red Widow in this fiction. Be assured that those characters will make an entrance in the next or the chapter after the next chapter! ^_^ (If that made any sense at all!)
By the way, what did you think of this chapter? Did you like it? I feel as if this sort of opens up a few more doors to certain paths this fiction can take! ^____^ Sorry about Hermione's reaction. I just can't have her fall so suddenly head-over-heels for Draco. ;_; Hope you weren't too disappointed.
Also, I made a few minor adjustments in the previous chapters. I switched around Rowena and Salazar's heritage to fit in more with the story line. I hope it won't make TOO much of a difference!