Author's Note: Whew. Long time since I updated, eh? Thought that I was dead or something, didn't you? Hehe. Anyway, sorry folks, but this is not the Yule Ball chapter. But there will be interesting developments, I promise you that!
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Can't you see that nobody wants to be lonely,
Nobody wants to cry.
My body's longing to hold you so bad it hurts inside.
Time is precious and its slipping away
And I've been waiting for you all of my life.
"Nobody Wants to be Lonely" by Christina Aguilera feat. Ricky Martin
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Chapter 16: I Wish I Could Love You
By Callisto Callispi
Hermione woke up with the warm caress of Draco's hand on her cheek. She blinked a few times then sat up, noting with disappointment that the warmth came not from Draco's fingertips but from the rosy beams of dawn spilling in through her window and onto her face. Hermione flung the covers aside and prepared for a shower.
Sleepily, she entered the washroom. Then as her bare feet made contact with the cold, tiled floor, Hermione woke up from her dreamy state immediately. But, strangely, the dream that had been so slowly fading from her mind like a morning fog suddenly slammed into her mind with such vivid details that she reeled and had to latch onto the edge of the marble sink to keep from spinning.
With her eyes closed, Hermione, confused and at times frightened, watched the images slowly turning in her mind. Even as she stepped into the shower and turned it on, the images came to her, playing in front of her inner eyes like a broken film.
Hot water beat upon her chest and shoulders. Hermione closed her eyes, almost able to feel his hand clasping hers as they walked up an emerald-green hill together. She felt as the water slid down her stomach and thighs the snake entwining around her waist, just like that long, thin snake that inhabited the crystal-clear lake where they swam in together, drunk with love and lust. Hermione sighed out fumes of steam, envisioning -- no, remembering -- how he took her against his chest when the snake poked his head up from under the water, hissing, flicking out its forked tongue.
Amid the rush of the water through the shower head did Hermione think that she could almost hear the deep rumble that was his laughter. He charmed the snake away and then they made . . . love. Hermione snapped her eyes open. Her chest heaved. Draco and her? No -- even in dreams that was impossible.
All through her shower and even as she dressed herself did images haunt her, flashing in front of her face light cameras until she thought she was going mad. When Hermione finally felt the urge to scream did the images halt. Then Hermione blinked as she approached her mirror, slowly.
"What was that?" she whispered. "Why am I having these dreams? About Draco Malfoy?"
Hermione shook her head and screamed. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
She clapped her hands over her mouth. Was she going mad? "No, no. No. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Draco Malfoy and I can't be . . . like that."
Then, with that affirmation, Hermione walked out of her room, her heart thumping. She was scared. She was so scared that Draco Malfoy would be the one to make her crack, to made her lose her mind. But that happened when people were in love, didn't it? Didn't love make people blind? Didn't love drive people to do mad things?
"But I'm not in love," she whispered furiously as she entered the Gryffindor common room. She saw Ron entering. He waved at her. She waved back. "I'm not."
"Welcome, Mister Malfoy," the house elves greeted as they opened the door to his diamond-gilded carriage.
He stepped out and stared up at the dark-purple sky, hoping that the meeting wouldn't last long -- he needed to be back at the ministry by noon, and the journey had already been unpleasantly time-consuming.
Lucius was graciously taken into the Hogwarts Castle by some more house elves. They passed through numerous corridors, corridors that were rarely used by students or even the ghosts. Vivid paintings, both moving and non-moving, surrounded Lucius and his entourage of elves. The illustrations stared down interestedly at the new man. Lucius, for the most part, did not even acknowledge their presence, until he passed a gold-framed illustration that depicted two majestic dragons with their tails entwined. Lucius's eyes narrowed.
Soon, the house elves led him into another corridor, and in the doorway, he saw a tall, regal figure awaiting him. He smiled, steel in his gaze, and performed a sweeping bow.
"Professor McGonagall."
"Hello, Mister Malfoy," she said sharply. "Please follow me."
He did, amused by this woman's attempt at majesty.
Soon, they approached the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said, "Sesame Sugar Saps."
The gargoyle slid to the left and revealed yet another corridor.
Professor McGonagall turned and motioned for him to enter, her eyes glittering with undisguised hostility. "The headmaster awaits."
Lucius bid the professor his thanks and entered the office.
"Ah, Mister Malfoy," said Professor Dumbledore in greeting.
"Headmaster."
"Please, take a seat. Would you like some lemon tea? Does wonders for the body in the morning." Dumbledore smiled at Lucius, but the old wizard's eyes were like chips of ice.
"No tea, thanks, but I will take a chair." Lucius sat and open his briefcase. He handed a folder containing a pile of neatly stacked papers to Dumbledore. "The department's records, the appropriate evacuation papers, and the seven signatures of the Ministry's administrators are all accounted for."
Dumbledore flipped though the files, looking almost bored. "I see that the twelve governors did not ratify this."
"Headmaster, the evacuation of those of . . . questionable heritage . . . is a scholarly matter for the boards of education to deal with. Not the governors' cabinets."
Dumbledore smiled once more. "And I suppose that my expulsion from my position as headmaster five years ago was not at all a matter for the Board of Education to deal with?"
Lucius smiled pleasantly back at the headmaster, trying to push away the memory of that miserably failed attempt. "Headmaster, you are confusing the matter here. Muggle-born children were getting harmed then. These are merely precautions so that they won't be harmed this time."
The headmaster flipped through the files once more, an obscenely blasé expression on his face. Even in his old age, the old coot was as hard to rattle as a rock. "I shall look into them soon. You see, I find my schedule rather full these days, what with the Oxford scholars and all."
Lucius scowled. His voice trembled with cold fury as he spoke. "If I would be as bold to advise, I insist that you look into those as soon as I leave."
"Lucius, I am a very busy man, but I assure you, I will look at these papers. And now, I must prepare for breakfast. Would you like to eat with the staff?"
Lucius had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Breakfast in this clammy castle? "No thank you, Headmaster. But actually, I do have one request. May I speak with my son before I take my leave?"
The headmaster seemed to hesitate before speaking. He nodded graciously, but Lucius still spotted the gleam in the old wizard's icy eyes.
"Yes," began Dumbledore carefully. "I believe that would be permitable. I'm sure young Draco would be delighted to see you. These are the times when a boy needs his father, after all."
Draco woke up early, which was quiet unusual for him. But it wasn't his own doing. Oh, no.
"Stupid bird," he muttered as he climbed out of bed and opened the window that the black owl had been pecking at ceaselessly for the last quarter of an hour. He snatched the letter from its beak and slammed the window shut again right in the bird's face. The owl hooted, astounded at this behavior, then flew off without a second look back.
Draco stared at the letter blearily for a few seconds, rubbed his eyes, and fell back to his bed. He tore open the envelope and took out the letter. He read this for a few seconds then laughed out loud.
It was from her! Marie Dimitrov! He laughed for so long and so hard that the letter fell from his hand and fluttered to the ground.
Dearest Draco,
I understand that your school, Hogwarts, will be hosting a Yule Ball near Christmas. My father says that you are without a partner. Durmstrang, the school that I attend, does not hold such festivities. I will travel to England for the vacation, and I expect that you and I will both enjoy ourselves immensely at the ball. Do not worry about my cousin -- though we are engaged, he is as meek as a mouse and will not question where I am going or with whom I am going.
With Love,
Marie
The stupid wench thought that he would be going with her! Draco stopped laughing and stared up at the ceiling with amusement. Yes, Marie the Beautiful -- the girl who would put a Veela to shame. But he hated her presence. Except for in bed. But he wanted to hurl whenever he thought of her company. First of all, the girl did not speak English very well. Second, all she thought about was sex, sex, and more sex. Perhaps she was a charming conversationalist in Bulgaria, but her English was very limited and hell if he spoke her language. And she wanted to go to the Yule Ball with him!
Draco rolled off of his bed and stumbled into his own private bathroom. He showered and thought about the best way to refuse her.
Yes, you see, Marie, you must have been mistaken when your father said that I didn't have a partner. I actually have two, and I must see how I can break off one engagement before having a third date. Even in Bulgaria, three women with one man would be awfully unorthodox . . .
Draco laughed.
But the fact was, he didn't want to write that, for he truly did not have a partner. He stared at himself in the mirror as he toweled off his hair. Ever since that blasted detention, the thought of getting a partner slipped his mind. Because of her.
For a second, Draco sighed and breathed in the fresh scent of his shampoo. An image of her face came to mind. Hermione Granger. He could still remember how she held out her hand to him, asking for his company.
"Yes, well, too bad she's a muggle-born, Draco," he muttered to himself as soon as he felt the desire to hold her. "It'll never work. Stop being so damned infatuated with her."
He slammed the door to his bathroom when he walked out. He angrily pulled on his uniform and snatched the letter from the floor. Stupid, arrogant wench, he thought as his eyes glazed over the parchment once more. Yes, he didn't have a partner. But that didn't mean that he was desperate enough to want to go with her. He would much rather go with Pansy -- or better, Hermione.
"Yeah, but you won't be going with her, will you?" Draco asked himself spitefully. "No. You can't possibly go with her. Not that she'd accept. And not that I'd ever ask."
Draco picked up his quill to write a scathing letter back to Marie, telling her that he'd rather be caught dead than be with her. But as soon as his quill touched the parchment, a knock sounded from his door.
Draco cursed. "Come in."
And in stepped Pansy. She looked so nervous that Draco felt most of his anger die. Most.
"What do you want?" he snarled, setting down his quill.
Pansy stared at him then cast her eyes down. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to go down to breakfast. Are you hungry?"
Draco was about to yell back at her to tell her to leave him alone, but then he sighed and nodded. He couldn't believe he was angry that he couldn't take Hermione to the Yule Ball. Like she was such a prize. "All right. Let's go."
He dropped the quill onto his desk and walked out. With a broad smile, Pansy entwined her arm through Draco's.
X
"Can't believe Harry's still sick."
Ron and Hermione walked together side-by-side to the Great Hall for breakfast. As usual, Ron was in his grumpy mood. Hermione sighed. He wouldn't be good-humored for at least two hours at this rate.
"I mean, how does he get ill so often? It's so unnatura."
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said irritably. "You don't mean such horrible things. So shut up."
"What do you mean I don't mean such horrible things -- oh, hell and damnation. Slytherins. I can't take their shit this early in the morning."
Hermione stared at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes narrowed. Oh yes, definitely Slytherins. And, at the head, Draco Malfoy -- with Pansy clinging to his arm.
Ron sneered at the group. A few very pretty blond girls stared at Hermione and Ron as they passed. Hermione felt heat rush up her chest as she watched Pansy sneer back at her. And -- her heart hurt. Pansy and Draco were walking together as Hermione and he had been last evening in Hogsmeade.
"Back-stabbing snake," Hermione whispered.
Ron nodded. "Yeah. Those are the Slytherins."
Then, Draco stopped speaking with Pansy then turned his head to face Hermione. Hermione glared as she caught his pale eyes. But he did not respond. He only seemed to be trying to tell her something. When she obviously did not understand, Draco rolled his eyes then glanced towards Blaise Zabini who was currently talking with a pretty Slytherin brunette.
Hermione blinked. Oh.
"Go on without me, Ron. Head Girl stuff." Hermione then walked towards Blaise and touched his arm. "Blaise, I need to speak with you."
Blaise turned and stared at her, surprise etched on his face. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Draco trying to suppress his laugh. Blaise nodded then excused himself from the group.
"We'll save you a seat, Blaise," one of the girls said as the group walked on to the Great Hall.
Hermione made sure that the corridor was deserted before speaking with him.
"Blaise, I need to issue a warning."
He stared at her for a bit. "To whom?"
"To you."
Blaise's dark eyebrows shot up. "To me?"
Hermione nodded. "I've had a girl run into my room crying. She was upset about . . . about . . ." Hermione trailed off when she saw Blaise trying to smother a smile. He was not very successful. "This is not a laughing matter!" she shrilled. "You could get in serious trouble, Blaise. You're lucky that I'm just warning you. This matter would be taken up to Professors Snape and McGonagall if I wasn't issuing a warning to you."
Blaise did not speak for a few moments, probably trying to contain his laughter. Then, he said, "Okay. I'm very sorry."
Hermione waited. When he did not say anything else, she demanded, "Is that all?"
His dark eyes sparkled with laughter again. "What do you want me to say?"
Hermione could not believe men! Their behavior was atrocious! "How about you promise me that you'll never do it again?"
Blaise tilted his head to study Hermione for a few seconds. Then he shook his head in exasperation. "Yes, I could say that. But then I would be lying. I'm a guy, Hermione. I have certain . . . urges."
Hermione felt herself blush at that statement.
"And besides," Blaise said, waving his hand in a "forget-about-it" manner, "I'm not entirely at fault here. Ask that girl. Her name was June, right? She was hanging all over me like wallpaper. And she said that she wouldn't regret anything. So I took a plunge. And she was attractive . . . you would be surprised at what kind of a figure she has under those robes."
Hermione struggled not to gape. A few Ravenclaw fifth years passed by. Hermione spoke again when they were out of earshot. "That's disgusting, Blaise! Don't tell me that!"
Blaise laughed for a few seconds then tried to keep a straight face when Hermione maintained her glare. "Look. I don't want to have to talk to you about this again, Blaise. Got it? It's . . . it's…" She paused. She couldn't very well say "gross" . . . that sounded too childish. "Well, it's something that I shouldn't have to ever talk to you about. I really don't want to interfere in your private life."
Blaise quirked an eyebrow. "So are you saying that I should be more discreet?"
"I'm saying that I don't want to have to talk to you about these things anymore! I don't want to issue these sorts of warnings!" Hermione raged.
Blaise nodded understandingly. Hermione calmed down a bit. "So please alter your behavior a bit, okay? And don't make girls cry."
Hermione could see that Blaise was about to laugh again but thankfully, he held it within himself. He took her hand in his amiably. "All right. I'll try not to. For you."
She felt herself blush. She gently slipped her hand from Blaise's. This was definitely not one of her favorite conversations. How embarrassing.
"So, if we're finished, can I go eat breakfast now?" Blaise asked, motioning over to the Great Hall.
Hermione nodded.
"May I escort you there?"
Hermione could not help the smile that crept up on her features. "All right."
And they walked together into the Great Hall, beginning to talk animatedly over their classes and what they bought yesterday in their Hogsmeade trip.
X
Draco had been watching the entrance to the Great Hall for about ten minutes now, wondering what Blaise's reaction would be after Hermione gave him an ear-full about sleeping with one of her precious class mates. Imagine his surprise when he saw Hermione and Blaise walk in together and both laughing!
"What the fuck!" Draco cursed loudly, catching the eyes of half of the Slytherin table and the annoyed look of a passing ghost.
But Hermione did not turn to him. Oh, no. She was so engrossed with Blaise. Draco's hands clenched into fists. How dare she? She nearly ripped his head off for something that he didn't do, and now the real culprit acted as if he'd been her best friend for ever!
Draco moved to deck Blaise and run away with Hermione, but as soon as he got up, an owl swooped right over his head and dropped a note in the empty plate in front of him. Draco glared, sat back down, and read the note.
After a few moments, Draco cursed loudly once more ("Young man, hold that tongue of yours or I will have to report you," wheezed the ghost.) and jumped up from his seat. His father send him a letter. What did that old bastard want now?
Draco slammed the door to his room open to find his father staring down distastefully at the piece of paper clutched in his hand. Draco took a peek at what his father held and stifled a groan.
"So I spend my galleons to reserve for you your own private room, and this is how you repay my graciousness?" Lucius asked maliciously. "With near-fail essays in Transfiguration?!"
Draco snatched the paper away from his father's grasp. "If you haven't noticed, that's the NEWT class for Transfiguration. And McGonagall hates Slytherins, me most of all. Besides, I keep above the eighty percentile rank so what's the big problem?"
"The problem is, Draco Malfoy, that you are to be the heir to the Malfoy fortune and you are failing nearly every class that does not hold your interest, which is I daresay seven out of nine classes."
Draco shrugged, annoyed. He hated it when his father meddled in his business. "So I wasn't born as a bookworm. Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Draco. If I had wanted to do that, I would have sent a howler."
Draco grimaced, wondering whether his father truly would do something as atrocious as that.
"But I have come to tell you something serious, Draco. Something very serious. It regards these hideous mudbloods in this school."
"What?" Draco blurted out, surprised. Mudbloods? What the hell did his father want with them?
"Something is going to happen, Draco," said Lucius, clasping his hands behind his back and staring out the window. The dawning sun flushed his features. "Something very exciting. We'll see our dream, the dream of all of the Dark Lord's supporters, come true in small proportions in this little school."
Draco looked away and said quietly, "What dream is that?"
Lucius glanced at his son, a small flicker of insane amusement glimmering in his pale eyes. "Why, to rid the world of all the mudbloods, of course. And to see all those who support those filthy animals struck down at their own game."
Draco's throat suddenly felt dry. All mudbloods? "What will happen to them? The mudbloods, I mean," he asked hoarsely.
Lucius shook his head. "Ah, I can not reveal anything that might disturb all of this careful planning. But do not be surprised if one is found dead the next morning." Lucius chuckled at the thought then whirled around to face his son. Draco forced a small smile onto his face and clenched his fists. It was the only way to keep his hands from shaking so much.
"And imagine," Lucius continued silkily, "what will happen if one of this precious school's students is found dead. Why, Headmaster Dumbledore will be in quite a predicament, I should say. Especially after he continually ignored the requests and demands from me and the Department of Non-Magic People Security. What a shame, what a shame. And at his old age to boot."
Draco nodded dumbly, not knowing what else to do. Only one thing raced in his mind right now. Hermione.
Then Lucius's delighted smile slowly slid off as soon as he straightened his robes and prepared to leave. "I hope that you are fed well here?" he asked Draco, his voice once again clipped and professional.
Draco nodded.
Lucius narrowed his eyes. "And I expect you to stop procrastinating all the time. You are still a student and a Malfoy. Malfoys do not fail in anything, do you understand?"
Nod.
"Good. When progress reports come home, I expect to see nothing below 'Acceptable.'"
Draco opened his mouth to protest, saying that was a rather unfair request but Lucius silenced him with a piercing glare. "Fine," Draco mumbled.
Then Lucius exited without so much as a farewell. Draco stood in his room for a few moments, trying to absorb what his father had said and wondering why he felt such shock with this news. So. Somehow Voldemort had been able to infiltrate through Hogwarts after all. Draco ran his hand thorough his hair, trying to calm his racing heart. Why did he give a flying fuck whether the mudbloods were struck down or not? Actually, he welcomed the prospect. But if he did, why did he suddenly feel so nauseous, so sick?
Because Hermione was one of them.
Without a second thought, Draco bolted from his room, all thoughts of breakfast fleeing. He wasn't hungry. And the prospect of eating made him want to hurl. He had to find her. He had to find her and warn her.
Why am I doing this? he demanded. WHY?
He closed his eyes for a few moments, trying to rid the image of Hermione with her hand held out to him -- how she told him that he should accompany her. But no matter how hard he tried, that episode would not fade from his mind. And he felt that it never would.
Hermione had been wandering the hall to the library alone for a few minutes, trying to clear her head. Though she hated waking up, she loved the silence that the morning and an abandoned corridor offered. But still no matter how hard she tried to push away her thoughts, they would not leave. Prominently the one regarding that explicit dream. If she closed her eyes, she could still almost feel his lips caressing her most sensitive spots. She could almost smell his scent. She could almost hear him moaning her name.
Which was why she tried her damnedest not to even blink.
She stared at her watch, noting with a small sigh that classes began in half an hour. Today was one of the few days that she did not want to attend classes. Actually, today was special. Today, she felt the intense urge to go back to her room and sleep the day away, to skip all of her classes, in hopes that the man in her dreams (be he Draco or not) would accompany her.
Though Hermione hated admitting it, she found the presence of that man so comforting, so satisfying. The memory of him physically was crystal clear. She could close her eyes and remember the smoothness of his skin and the awesome climax that they had reached together. She could hear his laugh, his moans, his whispers of love. But emotionally, she felt as cold as a dead fish. She felt so much love when she was with him, such awesome love that she had never felt before. Waking up was like being thrown into an ice-cold pond and being unable to swim back out. She felt nothing, she felt none of that intense passion or his complete adoration towards her. And she felt as if she were slowly suffocating without it.
Hermione continued walking and stared at the cold stone floor underneath her, wondering what her odds at being with Draco Malfoy were. She hated acting like such a love-sick teenager, but she couldn't help it. The image of his face kept rising in her mind. Surely if he occupied her mind so much, she felt something for him, some sort of emotion. She just didn't know how deep that feeling was.
She sighed as she rounded a dark corner and emerged into a dark hallway that she recognized as leading to the Slytherin dorms.
How could he, though? Did he love women so much that he'd let Pansy Parkinson hang all around him like she was his girl friend or something? A surge of envy pounded through Hermione, causing her eyes to narrow into angry slits.
Just then, Hermione gasped, feeling an arm snake around her waist. Before she could cry out, another hand covered her mouth. She struggled against the attacker's grip, finding it surprisingly strong. But when she heard his voice, her screams caught in her throat.
X
"Shut up, Granger," Draco hissed in her ear. She stopped struggling almost immediately then took up her fray again. Draco was amused by this.
Quickly, before anyone else could see what he was doing, Draco carted Hermione off into one of the random vacant rooms where he and his friends met in his early Hogwarts years, plotting the next biggest Hogwarts scandal that would rock the school. Now, those earlier haunts remained empty, for his friends were now his rivals in power. All of them. They no longer plotted together -- they plotted against each other.
As soon as he kicked the door behind him, Draco released Hermione. She stumbled, uttered a girlish shriek, then whirled on him. She glared, her chest rising dramatically as she huffed. "Why did you do that?" she demanded.
"I needed to talk to you," Draco answered with a small smirk tugged at the end of his lips. Despite how dire the situation was, Hermione never ceased to make him want to laugh at her girlishness.
She scowled, straightening out the wrinkles in her shirt. "There's a thing called an owl post," she answered dryly. "You see, first you write a message then send it off with a owl to the person you want to speak with. Abducting people in dark hallways is certainly not the way."
"I just though that this approach might be better -- more exciting. Your life is so dull -- I thought a bit of intrigue would spice it up," he answered.
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, thought about it, then grit her teeth. "So. Talk. I don't have all day."
Draco blinked at her cold tone, watching her walk up stiffly to an ancient mirror and wipe off a line of dust with her fore finger. What was she so upset about?
"So," he stared casually, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "What's your problem this morning?"
She whirled on him so quickly that her hair flew up behind her. What he saw in Hermione's expression shocked him: anger, hurt, hate . . .
"Stop playing your stupid games and tell me what you want, Malfoy." She hissed out his name like a curse word.
At first, Draco wanted to pull Hermione to his chest and stroke her cheek to soothe out whatever ill feelings she reserved for him. But the old Malfoy indifference won over his foreign instincts quickly and strikingly. His pale eyes lost their twinkles of humor and quickly hardened.
"Well, I suppose you don't care that I am trying to keep you alive, then," he answered in a clipped tone that shockingly resembled his father's.
Curiosity lit Hermione's face. Then in a blink, the charming look of inquisition fled her features. She said nothing -- she merely stared at Draco with her lips pursed.
"You need to go home, Granger, do you hear me? You need to go home."
This time, shock shattered her previously impassive facade. "Home?" she echoed. "Are you mad? This is my seventh year! I'm head girl! I can't go home. What is the matter, for heaven's sake?"
For a second, Draco considered lying to her -- something he did very well. But as soon as he opened his mouth, he couldn't get the words out. He couldn't lie to her, and it aggravated him. "I can't tell you," he finally muttered lamely.
Hermione blinked. Then her lips curled in a nasty smile totally uncharacteristic of her.
"Damn it, something is going to happen!" Draco cried, twirling around with exasperation. How could he get through to her?! "Something bad. You need to get out of here. I -- I don't want it to happen to you."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. She shook her head slightly. "Me? You don't want it to get me?" The twisted hurt and anger on her face betrayed the cool facade that she tried to express. Her eyes glittered. Draco turned away, unable to face her.
Her voice shook. "Mudbloods."
Her voice was a whisper, so soft that he could have missed it if he hadn't been listening. But he jerked as if someone punched him.
"Why can't you and your friends leave us be?" Hermione asked quietly, her voice flat and cold.
"Granger . . ." Draco began desperately. Under normal circumstances, he would have hated hearing the pleading in his voice. Now, he hated how coldly she looked at him. "Please. You must go. I don't want to you . . . involved in what will happen here."
"Why?" she demanded, her voice tremoring. "I must be the muddiest, the dirtiest of all mudbloods. Why am I the one you came to?"
Without a second thought, Draco walked up to her and kissed her firmly on her red lips, wishing with all of his heart that she would just shut up with the mudblood comments, wishing that she would just listen to him, wishing that he did not have to tell her to go home. His heart pounded in his ears as she struggled weakly against his hold.
Then, as quickly as he had come onto her, he stepped back, horrified yet mildly pleased at what he had done. Hermione panted, her face aflame with her embarrassment. She touched her swollen red lips, and Draco felt the familiar desire bubble in him with that little gesture.
"Why . . . why are you doing this?" she whispered, agonized. "Darn it, Draco Malfoy, what do you want from me?"
Draco grabbed a hold of her arms so quickly that she gasped. He squeezed her arms so that she squirmed, just barely crying out in pain. "You get out of this place, do you hear me? You have to leave." Draco, seeing that Hermione was on the verge of asking why once more, kissed her quickly on the lips again. She gasped for air when he parted, and her eyes blazed when she stared at him.
"Stop it!" she sputtered.
Despite himself, Draco felt a small smile curl onto his lips. "Stop what?" Then he quickly pecked her on the lips again.
"THAT."
He smirked and backed away. She stared at him as if he had grown two heads. Then she scowled.
"You think you're pretty slick, don't you?" she asked angrily.
Draco was about answer that he did consider himself slick but bit his tongue. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and said, "Why do you ask?"
Hermione opened her mouth but then closed it again. She looked towards the door, frown lines deeper than ever. Draco wondered what he had done.
"You truly are something, you know," Hermione began again. "To play with one girl then move to the next without a second thought."
Draco rubbed his face wearily. Girls and their vague complaints. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but yet again, no sound came out. She stopped, perhaps wondering how she could phrase what was bothering her. Then she shook her head in disgust. "Never mind. Just forget it."
Draco was annoyed by this. What the hell was wrong with her today? He asked her so.
"You are the matter with me, Malfoy. You and your stupid games. Pretending that you're attracted to me then letting Pansy hang all over you, abducting me in the hallway, kissing me like . . . like . . . some sort of . . . " Hermione paused, trying to find the word to describe his insufferable cockiness, his arrogance.
"Some sort of what?" Draco challenged. Then he felt the last flame of anger die away when the realization struck him. "You're jealous!" he said incredulously.
Hermione blinked. Confusion washed over her face. "What?"
Draco grinned. "You're jealous of the other girls that I pay attention to." He laughed for a brief moment. "I didn't know I meant so much to you."
Hermione face flushed scarlet once more. "Are you mad? Why would I be jealous of them? Wishful thinking, Malfoy."
He walked around her, trying desperately to provoke her. "I suppose you won't mind if I take Pansy to the ball then, hm? Oh, come now, Granger. Admit it: you like me and you feel helpless because I am very attractive to other girls, first of all, and second, you hate being attracted to me. But, of course, you can't help it because who wouldn't want me?"
"Why would I like a self-absorbed jerk like you?" she exploded.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I suppose I have some sort of charisma that appeals to you."
Hermione rolled her eyes and walked towards the door, muttering vaguely about charisma and Draco's lack thereof.
"Granger," Draco started again, walking towards her. "Where are you going?"
She looked over her shoulder and glared. "Away from you and your stupid games."
But before she could walk out, Draco appeared in front of her and slammed the door back shut. She clenched her fists, and Draco wondered whether she had enough gall to sock him one.
"You're not going anywhere, Granger, until you hear me out," he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Hermione shrugged his hand off. "I heard you clearly. You want me to leave Hogwarts. I stoutly refused. Now move."
Draco glared. In a split second, he grasped Hermione's shoulders and pushed her back down none too gently onto a couch. She landed on the cushion with a WHOOSH and thousands of specks of dust flew up around Hermione's face. She gasped, unbelieving of his attitude, and tried to stand back up. Draco was there more quickly and pushed her down onto the couch until she found her head lying on top of the ancient cushions. Draco's angry face loomed over hers.
Hermione's eyes widened. Draco twisted the fabric of Hermione's shirt, not knowing whether he should slap her or kiss her. A few tentative moments of silence passed until Hermione smiled mockingly and asked, "So this is how you are going make me go home? By holding me down on this musty couch until I agree to leave?"
Draco found himself unable to answer. He had just acted like a fool! Damn, did he want to slap that smile off of her face. His hands trembled. "Don't cross me, Granger," he spat out. Hermione tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. This only enraged him more.
"FUCK IT, Granger!" he yelled and pushed himself off of her. He started pacing the room. "Fuck this whole thing. Stupid, fucking - why the hell won't you listen to me?!"
Hermione sat up, her eyes wide. Her breathing was labored. "Why are you like this? You're acting like a child."
"Fuck you and your fucking smart-ass observations! I don't want to hear them!" he roared.
She stared at him as if he had slapped her. Draco tore his eyes off of her. He was too angry to regret what he had just said. He continued pacing the room like an angry lion. How could he tell her? How could he tell her that she needed to go home, that he cared about her safety so much that he was willing to do anything to keep her from harm -- do anything, even act like a fool, as he was already doing now?
"I don't have to take this," she said quietly, getting up and brushing the dust off of her skirt. Her hands shook.
"Damn it, Granger, you are going to take this!" Draco yelled. He stood his ground and faced her, his eyes blazing with anger and determination. "You are going to go home. You are going to go back to your fucking house and you are going to stay there until this all blows over. Do you understand me?"
"Shut up!" Hermione screamed back. "Just shut up, and leave me alone! I don't care what you want me to do, you got that? Why won't you leave me alone?!"
"Because I care about you, that's why!" he bellowed before he could register what he was saying.
Hermione gasped, her eyes widening. Her hands made her way up to cover her mouth. Draco blinked, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. Now why the hell did he have to go and say that? He furrowed his brows and rubbed his face wearily with his hands. Oh, god, how could he ever . . . how could he have said . . . oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!
"Fine. You don't give a damn whether you die or not," he said finally. His voice was deflated, lacking the passion and fire from before. He moved to the side and held out a hand towards the door. "Get out, then. Get out. Go study. Go eat your breakfast. Enjoy school."
Hermione didn't move. She merely stared at him, her eyes wide, unable to speak.
"What the hell are you waiting for, Granger? You don't care. Go," Draco spat.
Hermione took a step towards the door. Draco's heart fell. Even after all of this, she was going to ignore him. She took another step and another. Even second that passed seemed like a decade to Draco. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering how these affections had blossomed. God, he was perfectly happy the way he was before, back when he hated her with a passion and when he could sleep with any girl without feeling guilt towards a certain brunette. And now, with him proclaimed as Voldemort's heir, he had to start falling in love with a muggle-born, of all people? Life just wasn't fair.
"Is it true?"
Draco opened his eyes and saw Hermione standing in front of him, facing the door. She stared down at the ground.
"Is what true?" he muttered.
She turned her head to face him, her brown eyes glittering with . . . something. Draco felt his heart catch in his throat. Why did she have to look at him like that?
"What you said. About . . . you . . . caring. Is it true, Draco Malfoy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I -- I don't know . . . " he replied throatily, unable to take his eyes off of her. She stared back down at the ground with a small frown. It surprised him that what he said wasn't the answer that she was looking for. "I really don't know, Granger."
She stood there for a few more seconds in pondering silence. Draco felt as if his heart would burst. It was pounding so quickly. His fingers tingled with the desire to touch her. How he wanted to stroke her skin and breathe in her scent. How he wanted to tell her that what he said was what he felt. How he wanted to embrace her. His body ached with his unfulfilled desire.
Hermione stared at him again. Draco took in a sharp breath, trying not to stumble back. He was barely able to hold himself back from taking her to his chest and lying with her on that dirty couch. Images of him whispering in her ear haunted him. Memories of her moans crashed against his heart like a tsunami. He was dying as he stood next to her so closely that he could catch the faint scent of vanilla but being unable to touch her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Draco blinked. "What?" he asked hoarsely.
Hermione settled her hand upon his shoulder gently. Draco felt the breath squelch in his chest. What was she doing? Then, he caught the aroma of vanilla as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned in. His eyes widened as hers slowly closed. Draco stood, unable to move. He felt as if he were paralyzed from the neck down.
Then, she tilted her head and kissed him softly. Draco felt as if a raging current of fire had broken free inside of him. He slowly trailed his hand up from her back to the base of her neck, his skin burning with the desire to grab her and shove her against him. But no, she wouldn't like that. And Draco wanted to please her.
He applied just a bit of pressure to her neck so that they were able to deepen the kiss. His stomach fluttered. His heart hammered. Neurons inside of his head shot shocks of desire throughout his body. Then, masterfully, he began to coax Hermione's lips open. She complied hesitantly and Draco gently slid in his tongue to explore the sweet caverns of her mouth.
He closed his eyes as she leaned her soft body against his. Heaven. He was in heaven. With shaking hands, he stroked Hermione's hair, twining his fingers through her soft locks. Goose bumps ran down his body as Hermione stroked his cheek. Their tongues danced in an elegant waltz of affection.
Then he felt Hermione push gently away from him.
Though disappointed, Draco complied. He stroked her hair one last time before loosening the silky locks from between his fingers. He withdrew his tongue and playfully licked her lips. The pressure of his hand upon her neck lightened until he slid it back down onto her waist. Then he pulled his lips from hers but did not back away completely. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing heavily with mounting desire and affection.
"Why did you do that?" he asked huskily, still breathless from that kiss.
She did not answer. She too was panting. Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him. "I don't know. I just wanted to, I suppose."
Draco smiled gently at her. He tucked in a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're not disappointed, are you, that I did that?" she asked hesitantly. Draco could feel her body tensing.
"Maybe," he replied, his smile broadening.
They did not speak for the next minute. Then Draco, unable to take the silence anymore, pecked her on the lips sensually -- his invitation to resume what they had started moments before. Hermione shook her head and pulled herself away from him.
"I still can't leave, you know," she said quietly.
Draco's smile slid off. He backed away from her as well. "So were you trying to buy your refusal with that kiss?" he asked wearily. He felt that dizziness again.
But Hermione protested. "No! Of course not. I would never. You know I would never."
Draco scrutinized her face, now a few feet away from her. Would she coax him with a kisses to have her way? No. She had her chance to go. She stayed for him. At least, that was what Draco would have liked to think. He did not answer. He merely stared at her. Hermione's face twisted with her anguish.
She stepped up towards him. For a moment, Draco thought (well, he rather hoped) that she would start kissing him again. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned in under his ear and whispered, "I think I've grown rather fond of you as well."
It took a few moments for the words to register in Draco's brain. But by the time he could completely understand what she had said, Hermione was already out the door.
Now, alone in this room, Draco allowed himself to submit to his weakness. His knees shook, and he all but collapsed down onto the couch where he had pushed Hermione onto earlier. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, vaguely aware that he had classes but not really giving a damn.
So. He truly did care for her, was falling in love with her. And she knew it too. Draco was confused. Was that a good thing or a bad thing, her knowing this? Well, it took a load off of his chest to have to her and himself know. He wouldn't have to convince himself that whenever he felt the desire to kiss her, it was his hormones. But, on the other hand, he was Voldemort's heir. The his fucking HEIR, for crying out loud! Draco swore loudly. WHY?
He rolled over, brushing away the spots of dust on the couch. He still wanted her. He felt a pull to that girl like none he had ever felt before.
But he was Voldemort's HEIR.
Draco moaned and covered his eyes with his arm. "It's not fair," he muttered. "Why couldn't she have been a pureblood? Everything would be perfect then. God damn it, why? Hermione Granger. How would this ever work out between us?"
Then Draco sat up with the sudden realization that no, things would never work out between them. Hermione was muggle-born. He was the destined heir to the greatest hater of all muggle-borns. Draco felt cold inside. So. Things were impossible. He shook his head. He couldn't believe that. Nothing was impossible. But that nagging little voice in the back of his head insisted that yes, it was impossible. That the Slytherin prince and the Gryffindor martyr would never be able to work out.
Draco swung his legs, stood up, and punched the nearby wall. He panted, gripping his hair. He hated how this all turned out. Why the hell did he have to fall in love with her of all of the billions of available girls in the world?
Draco felt the dizziness rise up in him again. He wanted to throw up as soon as the thought entered into his head: he had to distance herself from her. He had to drive her away to keep his sanity and his future ambitions in tact. He would be the most feared and respected wizard in the world. He would hate all mudbloods. He would get over this silly, school-boy infatuation. That was the only way he could go on living. He had rejected all warmth and love and affection from all women except that of his mother (and she offered very little and he accepted very little to begin with) and had continued living the way he wanted. What was the big deal with Hermione?
Draco walked back into his room and dug in deeply in his chest. This chest held all of this most private, most valuable things. He grinned grimly when his fingers closed around a small metal casket. Ah yes, Dragon Fluid, the powerfully potent drink that his father had given him. He uncorked the casket and breathed in the powerfully brewed fumes of the beverage.
He took a little sip, cringed a bit at the intense bitterness, then prepared to drown the whole casket until he spotted that letter from Marie. Draco closed the casket and read the ridiculous thing over. Then he wrote back, accepting her invitation. If he was to pull himself away from Hermione, he had to begin now.
But as he watched his owl fly away with the letter to Bulgaria, he felt the shittiest he had ever felt. He needed relief, even if temporarily. He uncorked the Dragon Fluid again, swirled the liquid around, and took a deep swig. The drink burned its way down his throat like acid, but Draco didn't care. He couldn't even taste it for Hermione's face and her smile had just bubbled up in his mind. He grinned sardonically and held the casket up.
"To you, you stupid mudblood," he slurred, the drink already beginning to affect his mind. "I'm sorry for what I will do to you. But know this: I wish I could love you."
And with that toast in mind, Draco drowned his anger and sorrow in the illegal drink that Voldemort had so zealously hoarded.
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End Notes: Next chapter is the Yule Ball! YES! :) I know you've all been waiting for that. But I bet that you won't be expecting the twist. By the way, please review! And thank you, everyone. I am amazed at your patience and will regarding updates on this story. It's a long project, and it's difficult to complete. But I am working on it. Thanks again, everyone, for your undying support and love!