Je veux juste une dernière danse,
Avant l'ombre et l'indiffèrence,
Un vertige puis le silence,
Je veux juste une dernière danse.
"Dernière Danse" by Kyo
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Chapter 18: Dernière Danse (Last Dance)
By Callisto Callispi
"What a happy year this year has been," Dumbledore announced with a smile. "I am almost sad to see it go."
"Draco, what is that old man saying? I can not fully understand..." Marie squinted, as if that would aid her in comprehending English.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Nothing important. Trust me."
"But change is a way of life. Everything and everyone is a subject to change. It is the equalizer of all time, this change. It affects us both physically and emotionally sometimes we mature, sometimes...we are led astray."
Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, a pause barely accounted for by any of the professors, but Draco noticed. Oh, hell, he noticed since, well, the old coot stared directly at him after he said it. Draco felt his mouth grow dry. Oh, shit. Did he know? Draco winced and just barely kept his hand from traveling up to his shoulder. Aw, damn it! Don't start hurting now. DON'T!
"But we are human. We are all prone to give way to temptation and ambition. It is our nature."
It burned. Draco struggled to keep his face devoid of any emotion but a snarl crept up his features. He could feel himself perspiring against the bitter bite of the mark.
"I've faced many winters, and I've seen the human nature destroy, hurt, and kill."
Draco closed his eyes and took in deep, ragged breaths through his lips.
"My god, Draco, are you all right?" he heard Marie ask him.
He nodded and opened his eyes only to find his vision hazy and unfocused. His knees felt weak. Any minute now, he would collapse. Damn this infernal mark!
Draco didn't know what happened. His legs gave out suddenly, and he barely managed to muffle a moan. But arms, not a woman's but a man's, wrapped brutally around his waist and hoisted him back up.
"What the fuck's the matter with you?" someone snarled in his ear.
Draco had to force his lids open. His mouth was dry. "I I " he wheezed out.
The man behind him began to drag him to the shadowed, unoccupied corner of the Great Hall, trying his best to evade Dumbledore's seemingly cheerful gaze. He muttered obscenities under his breath.
Draco's mind was a blur even as he stumbled across the sea of dress robes. A minimal number of people noticed him, however. They were too busy gawking at Dumbledore. It was not until he felt himself get slammed against the wall and brutally shaken that his mind began to slowly clear. Draco blinked and clenched his jaw, trying to will the stabbing agony of his shoulder away. And that too gradually began to fade.
"Are you mad? You can't fall apart like this! Not in front of Dumbledore!"
Draco wiped away the sweat on his brow. He glared. "Mind your business, Zabini."
Blaise's eyes darkened. His lips curled in a nasty scowl. "You're such a fucking git. Can't you tell that I'm trying to help?"
"And I told you. I don't need your help," Draco snarled, smoothing his hair back with his fingers.
Blaise opened his mouth, probably to snap back angrily at him. Then he blinked, frowned, and shook his head bitterly. "You're such an ass."
Draco sneered and started to retort but stopped suddenly when he heard the thunderous applause following Dumbledore's announcement: "And now I finally present to you, your head boy and girl!"
And Draco stared, his eyes unwavering from the platform and her. She emerged into the light like...a...
"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Gregory Hawking's voice snapped Draco out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes for a second, shook his head again, and turned to Blaise. "Is is that Granger?"
Blaise stared at him, annoyed. "Who else would be up there? She's the head girl, remember? Or has that mark scrambled your brains as well as your shoulder?"
Draco allowed the dart because he didn't hear it. At least he didn't acknowledge it. His eyes were on Hermione and all of his thoughts were claimed by her smile. He took a step towards her, feeling an almost magnetic pull towards her presence. But he stopped himself before taking the second step no, not this again. He couldn't make a scene now, not with her. Quietly he sunk deeper into the shadows, his eyes glimmering with longing.
"And we, as representatives of the student body here at Hogwarts," Hermione took off where Gregory left and began to speak, "would like to honor the scholars from the Oxford University of Magic."
Applause greeted this announcement, though the girls shared in a great majority of the enthusiasm. The boys crossed their arms and raised their eyebrows angrily in the direction at the table where the university scholars sat at.
"And so let this be the year," Gregory continued after Hermione, "that unity binds Hogwarts and the magical world. Let this unity guide each and every one of us, and especially you all, my fellow seventh years, into the path of light and hope and dreams."
"This is our last year at Hogwarts, and let us make this year the best that we can possibly make it," Hermione said. She smiled, facing each and every one of her peers. "Do not let go of dreams, do not allow hope to flutter away, and never lose the light. Never let that light dim. I wish you all great fortune, my friends, in comprehending your goals. And achieving them."
Gregory nodded. "As do I. But now, let us celebrate the last few remaining days of this year. Let us make merry!"
More applause. This time, everyone shared in the enthusiasm as the heads smiled gleefully back at the students and stepped down from the platform. Draco watched Hermione hungrily. Fire ran through his body when he saw her lick her lips and smile at Gregory as they exchanged a few silent words. How dare that worthless Hufflepuff shit stare at Hermione like that, as if she were someone to bait? How dare
Because she was free for the taking.
Draco leaned back against the wall and stared dumbly at the rippling lake of silk and glitter. His eyes trailed her with fatigued yet relentless yearning. Maybe in a different time and different place, I could have... I could have...what? What could I have done?
"You look like you swallowed Snape's fungus potion. What's wrong with you? Why... Oh."
Draco stared at Blaise. And Blaise stared at Hermione as she smiled graciously and accepted Thomas Wellington's hand. Without a moment to lose, Thomas collected Hermione in his arms and in one fluid motion, he whisked her off into a quick-paced waltz.
Slow down, fool. She's about collapse from fatigue. Can't you see the strain on her face, the tension of her body? Slow down. Draco thought.
Draco jerked, seeing someone's fingers snap repeatedly in front of his face. Blaise.
"You really are infatuated with her, aren't you?" asked Blaise incredulously. His expression was one of horror and amazement. "My god," he continued in a whisper. "Who would have thought. Draco Malfoy and...Hermione Gra "
"Don't. Say. It," Draco growled, whipping around to face Blaise. And despite the weariness clouding his acute posture, his voice did not lack any of the Malfoy authority. "Or have you failed to remember that she is a mudblood?"
Blaise's eyes narrowed. His face darkened into a scowl. "Don't you think that the appropriate question is whether or not you have failed to recall that little fact?" And without saying another word, Blaise whipped around and walked away, leaving Draco shocked and seething.
X
She was being twirled around so much that she felt as she were about to throw up. Her breathing was erratic and hard as she scrambled to match Thomas's pace. She could feel cold beads of sweat popping out of his forehead. Strain shot up her heeled foot with every step she usually never wore heeled shoes and dancing in them was a hell that she could have lived without.
"Your speech with that Hawkings boy was excellent," Thomas said with a fond smile down at Hermione.
She nodded graciously and replied, "Thank you. It was pre-arranged, however. It wasn't a spontaneous thing."
"Nevertheless, you have flair for public speaking. It's a quality that I treasure. You had the students mad on their feet with that little speech of yours," he commented charmingly as they fluttered gracefully between the dancing couples.
Hermione smiled back up at him and they continued their dance. He likes you, Hermione! He likes you! That's why he's holding you so closely!
Her mind, as tired as it was, did not stop its ranting. It was true that Thomas Wellington held her more closely than he should have, but that wasn't enough evidence that he
Hermione bit back a gasp as Thomas bent down and gently placed his cheek against hers. Oh my GOD!
"Thomas..." Her voice was scratchy, like a voice just aroused from sleep. "I...we..."
Sensing the tension in her voice, Thomas jerked back, at first with shock. He studied her flushed face and smiled apologetically. "I apologize, Hermione. I had thought that you were feeling I was wrong to do that."
Hermione remained silent for a few seconds and just stared up at him. Her heart fluttered, her mind shot out thousands of thoughts and retorts in a moment. Why wasn't he saying anything to her? Then, Hermione realized with a shock that she was waiting for an insult or a barb that would never come out of Thomas Wellington's mouth. Hermione forced a smile up and said to him politely, "Don't worry about it."
And as they danced together to the melody of whispering flutes and tanging guitars, Hermione wondered why she felt a part of herself...missing. Something bothered her, and it tugged at her mind incessantly. It seemed as if a small but significant portion of her rhythm of being was off, like a singer just managing to miss a high note.
Her eyes drifted from Thomas's chiseled cheekbones. Her gaze wandered over the shadows, the darkened corners of the Great Hall. She searched for him, she knew, and she couldn't help it.
"If you don't think me blunt for asking..."
Hermione snapped out of her trance and stared up at Thomas, who was eying her curiously.
"Just what sort of relationship do you hold with Draco Malfoy?"
Hermione blinked. Well. This wasn't what she was expecting. "Us? Me? And Dra Mal Draco?"
Thomas did not urge her to go on but kept his gaze steady.
"We're..." What were they? Acquaintances? Friends? More than friends? Lovers? No to each and every one of those options. "His and my relationship...it's complicated."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, steering her gently away from the other dancing couples. He did not hold her as closely as he had done. "Complicated?"
"We've never been friends. I suppose we're rivals. I we never liked each other. Ever since our first year."
Confusion exposed itself in Thomas's puzzled frown. "Why ever not? You seem like a perfectly charming girl."
Hermione laughed softly. But It was too soft to note the bitter tone. No one would have known it was there except for someone who was incredibly observant someone like...Draco. He noticed everything that she did or said, even if she did not wish him to. "I don't know why he and I are the way we are. I suppose it's just one of those things."
It was an ambiguous response. Hermione saw the frustrated frown on Thomas's face. But he, being the ever-polite man that he was, merely nodded nonchalantly and they kept dancing.
Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds. The banging music was giving her a migraine. But they kept dancing while Thomas made small talk. He told her about his family, about his brothers and father and stepmother with humor and considerately inquired about her own relations.
But while Hermione was telling him about her family and tidbits of her life, the realization of what was missing hit her like a club to the head.
She missed the heated arguments that Draco always offered so freely to her.
"And you enjoy Ancient Runes?"
Hermione nodded and smiled. That was it. Thomas's courtesy (and as charming and as kind as it was) was boring her! His cool, diplomatic manner was captivating as his smile but...he did not have Draco's acid tongue, or Draco's cold eyes, or Draco's sharp taunts. Realization filled her like a flash flood. Draco constantly challenged her mind and wits. And she enjoyed being challenged, even unknowingly. The challenge presented that simple yet erratic rhythm that she constantly strove to feel and hear.
Her eyes once again got wild with that certain desire that she was not able to quell. Where was he? That stupid, mindless, arrogant, cruel, cold, selfish, nosy prat. How dare he give her something that no one else had hardly given her? How dare he try to ensnare her with that? How dare
Hermione froze when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Draco? She turned her head and felt her heart fall. Blaise.
"You've been dancing with her for seven songs straight," said Blaise with a bright smile.
Thomas rolled his eyes. "I am her escort, Blaise. That is what I do."
"Well, Hermione? Is this chap so interesting that you talk with him for seven songs?"
Hermione laughed. "Blaise, are you asking me for a dance?"
Blaise looked up to meet Thomas's eye. When the older man nodded, Blaise took Hermione's hand and grinned cheekily. "Only if you'll allow me."
Hermione nodded hesitantly. After all, she liked Blaise. And though he was not Draco, she found his demeanor attractive.
"Oh, good. Thomas, why don't you dance with Claudine?" And without another word, Blaise pulled Hermione into his arms with a wink and swept her off to the dance floor.
"You look exquisite tonight, Hermione," Blaise said thoughtfully after he searched her face for a few uncomfortable moments. "You should dress up more often."
Hermione shrugged. "Who has time to do all this?" Again, her eyes searched the Great Hall. Why was she even looking for him? It wasn't as if he would talk to her anyway.
"You seem preoccupied."
Hermione turned and faced Blaise. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she saw a glint of...animosity?...in his dark eyes. But she ignored this and closed her eyes for a moment. I'm imagining things. I need to sleep. I'm so tired.
"You know. Just to make sure everyone is happy." She managed a weary grin. "I just want this ball to be the best it can be." Hermione looked around, noticing for a the first time that they danced in the shadows in the outer rim of the scattered gathering of dancers. Her heart fluttered.
Blaise lifted one hand from her waist and turned her chin up to have her eyes meet with his. Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she saw the solemn expression on his face. No humor. No charm. Just cold inquisition. "You speak in half-truths. It seems to me that you are searching for someone."
Hermione's throat felt dry. Blaise's grip on her waist became a bit tighter. "And whom am I seeking?"
"Oh, I don't know. A guy, perhaps. Who knows? Perhaps a certain Slytherin, whom you have despised since you first laid eyes on him."
Hermione pulled away from Blaise quickly. "Just what are you implying, Blaise?"
He quickly seized her waist and hand again. "I'm implying nothing. And our dance isn't over."
Hermione glared and wrested herself from Blaise's grasp. He stared at her angrily. "You are mistaken. This dance was over ever since you brought up the subject of Draco."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Ah. So Draco now is it?"
She stifled a gasp as she realized her folly. But she kept her face straight and cold. "Yes. Draco. That is his name, isn't it?"
"It is. But I find it strange that you refer to him by his given name instead of his surname. You've been calling him 'Malfoy' until just now, am I not right?" His voice shook with barely contained fury. Hermione backed away.
"What is the matter with you, Blaise?" she asked quietly. "Why are you so angry?"
He did not answer for a few seconds. He merely stared at the floor and when he did finally look up at her, he said quietly, "Weasley is staring very angrily at us. Don't you think it'd be better to resume dancing until this song is complete?"
Reluctantly, Hermione took Blaise's outstretched hand allowed herself to bend to his will. She followed his lead and his footsteps quietly, not knowing why she felt so...nervous in his presence.
Why did each dance feel like an eternity for her? Her feet ached and her eyelids felt heavy. Hermione swallowed down a sigh and nodded a greeting as she danced past Harry. Harry stared curiously at her, obviously wondering why she was dancing with a Slytherin, but then stared knowingly in Ron's direction. Hermione, puzzled, turned her head then bit the inside of her lip. Ron was scowling deeply in her direction and refused to acknowledge her gaze. He merely kept dancing with his partner as if nothing had happened, save for that nasty look on his face.
Perhaps if she were a bit less tired and in a better disposition, she would have made a move to speak with him to ease that famous Weasley temper. But she didn't. Not this night. Not while she felt like a bag of rotten bananas.
"You can tell me, you know."
Hermione looked up at Blaise. He avoided her gaze. "Tell you what?"
"About him."
"Who?"
"Draco."
This time, he looked down at her. And this time, Hermione found that she had difficulty looking him in the eye. "Nothing is going on between us."
"You're lying, Hermione."
"I'm not."
"I can hear it in your voice."
Hermione hesitated before replying. What could she say? Blaise was more attentive than she had thought. "Why are you asking me this?"
Blaise paused before answering. "I am in Slytherin, Hermione. We're the most cunning of the cunning, the vilest of the vile. And I'm naturally curious."
"Try naturally nosy."
Blaise snorted.
Hermione cast her eyes downward and stared at the swimming hem of her multi-layered skirt. With every step, the silk gently oscillated like an ocean of black. The pointed tips of her shoes moved on their own accord, following Blaise's own. What was she doing here in the arms of another man? What was she doing in the arms of Slytherins? What was she doing kissing one?
"Have you ever...loved anyone, Blaise?" Hermione asked quietly without thinking. She bit her bottom lip and immediately regretted asking the question. Blaise's fingers pressed against hers more firmly. He did not answer her for a few seconds.
"No. I haven't. But I think I am starting to."
Hermione looked up, shocked. He did not return her stare. Instead, his eyes were focused sharply on something over Hermione's head. Curiously, Hermione dared a look over her shoulder and sighed quietly. She turned around gently and placed a tentative hand on Blaise's chest.
He was staring at her, those gray eyes glinting. Draco's gaze had flickered towards her for a second, and that second was the only time that she needed to catch the look in his eyes. Hermione was surprised to feel the gentle thump of Blaise's heart against her palm. Oh god. Was Blaise...nervous around her?
Without a word, Blaise gently covered Hermione's hand with his own. The song was fading in the background. Their dance was almost over. But why wasn't Blaise releasing her? Why were they still moving to that soundless beat of silence? Hermione looked up and stifled a gasp as she found Blaise's face looming over hers. His dark gaze pierced her very eyes. Those eyes refused to allow her to turn her head; she was unable to look away.
When she thought he had her trapped, Blaise's eyes flickered toward her lips. He craned his neck slowly down to her face, tilting his head as the distance between them slowly diminished. Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as Blaise slowly twirled them into a shadowed corner. Fear. Anxiety. He was trying to kiss her.
"B-Blaise..." she whispered, her lips grazing against his. Chilling lips. Even his breath seemed cold. Pull away. Pull away. Why are you doing this...?
They twirled around together slowly. Hermione's breath shuddered as Blaise gently nudged her against the wall. This wasn't right. She wasn't the type of girl to kiss random people in dark corners. Wanton! Why
And there he was again. Hermione tore her gaze away from the sensually full lips that were about to kiss her and met eyes with Draco Malfoy just barely over Blaise's shoulder. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, his arms falling limp from his partner's slender waist. Draco was staring at her in unspoken horror, like a man betrayed.
"No," Hermione whispered, turning her head just before Blaise's lips could capture hers. She closed her eyes, literally hundreds of emotions shooting through her already beaten, battered, fatigued brain. Her knees trembled, and she would have collapsed to the ground if Blaise wasn't holding her up.
A ruffle of silk. Blaise whipped around then turned back with a murderous scowl on his face. Hermione was too tired for fear or anger. She just wanted to be left alone. No more dancing, no more
"Mmmph! Mmpth! Blmmpth!" she squealed against the hard lips that seized her own. Blaise's hard body and strong arms pinned her helpless against the wall. Brutally did Blaise force her mouth open. She clamped her jaw shut, refusing to yield to such savage conduct. "Hmmmph! Mmmnph!" Cries bubbled in her throat as his teeth scraped against the tender, bruising flesh of her lips. And then, just as brutally he plundered that kiss, he pulled back, snapping her head roughly to the side with the strength of his own jaw.
"Don't think that Draco Malfoy will be able to protect you," Blaise hissed through his teeth as he pulled away. Hermione gasped for breath, her mind dizzy. She bit back a cry as Blaise's hands tightened around her arms, applying just enough pressure for it to hurt but not enough to leave a bruise. Then, without another word, he whipped around and stalked angrily toward the punch stand where a young woman was currently standing, chatting animatedly with an Oxford scholar.
Hermione sank against the wall in a horrified daze, unmindful of the fact that Draco was furiously running towards Blaise.
Fuck Slytherin.
No good little shits. Bastards! All of them! Without another thought, Hermione stood up, stiffened her back, and silently walked to the doors of the Great Hall. Enough. Enough of the fake smiles, the endless dances, the attempts to best her and her pride. Assholes, all of them. Draco, Blaise, and even Thomas Wellington, who was happily occupied with a leggy, bare-backed seventh-year Slytherin. Enough of Ron's jealous stares, enough of Harry's sympathetic smiles. Enough of men. All of them. Hermione would have liked nothing better at the moment to stupify all of them with her wand. Sleep.
Please. Sleep, be kind to me once. Please. Let me sleep!
X
Draco could not describe the emotions that pounded him when he saw Blaise kissing Hermione. At first, he felt numb, as if he had just swallowed Novocain meant for his whole body. But he watched those hands pin her against the wall, trap her to his body. He watched Blaise make Hermione his own prisoner.
Acid. The next sensation was acid. Acid bubbled in his stomach, his throat, threatening to dissolve his very vocal chords. His whole body felt as if it were on fire a hot, acidic fire. He wanted to throw up, scream, and punch the bastard's face in all at once. And much, much more.
"What the fuck were you doing!" Draco roared as he yanked Blaise away from the French girl that he was currently holding in his arms. And though the music was loud, Draco's voice seemed to just barely carry above the combined clatter of guitars, pianos, and the loud prattle of the students.
"Monsieur! Vous "
"SHUT UP!" he screamed in the blond girl's face as he grabbed a hold of Blaise's collar and slammed him against the far wall.
But even with Draco's trembling fists gripping the collar of his silk shirt, Blaise cocky as ever, even slammed against the wall laughed. "Are you truly going to mangle my face at the Yule Ball for a mudblood?"
"You sneaking bastard! You sick little fuck!" Draco seethed. "You two-faced "
"Yes, yes. I'm just a sod who would best fuck myself up the arse, right? I know everything that you will throw at me." Then, despite the hands that shoved him against the wall, Blaise craned his head towards Draco's and asked in a deadly whisper, "So what are you going to do about it, my future dark lord?"
Draco leaned in closer, so close that their noses almost touched. A gray tempest challenged the knife-like deadliness of black. "I'm not going to do anything yet. But watch your back. Because when I catch you alone, I'll kick the shit out of you."
Draco stared at Blaise's reddened lips, the lips that raped Hermione's. With a snarl, Draco slammed his hands back. Blaise cursed loudly as his head hit the back wall with a sickening thump. Draco backed off slowly, murder gleaming in eyes. Blaise glared coldly back, obviously quite unperturbed. And without another word, Draco whipped around and ran out of the Great Hall after Hermione. He did not see Ron walking after him.
X
The hem of her skirt teased the ground with its ruffles. As she walked, she could hear the swish, swish of her hem grazing over the carpeted floor. Well. This dress was a waste of money. How many galleons did she spend on this?
At least enough to buy myself about nine hard-cover books, she thought bitterly.
The music was but a fading serenade to the chaos ensuing in her mind. The jingle of bells mocked her. The guitars taunted her. "Poor little Hermione. Wanted by so many, yet she refuses to yield. Poor, saintly Hermione. Boys always trying to defeat that pride, that wall that you've raised to protect yourself "
"Shut up," she whispered.
"And what hardships dear old Hermy's enduring, all for the sake of her foolish pride. You should have accepted Thomas's affections. You should have let Blaise kiss you. You complain about being unwanted. You push them away, not the other way around, you stupid, stupid girl!"
Why did that voice sound so much like Snape's?
"Granger!"
Her steps faltered. Her skirts swayed between her legs. Swish, swish.
Keep walking. Keep walking. She stood there, staring ahead into the darkness. Blood rushed to her face and heated her lips. And since when have I become so dependent on a man? she wondered. With her fists clenched, she began to walk again with resolution.
"Granger, wait!"
The sound of his footsteps became louder. Hermione jerked away as she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Leave me alone," she spat.
What made her think that he would listen to her? Draco's fingers wrapped around her upper arm and twirled her to him in one fluid movement. He did it so smoothly, so gently. Loosened curls fell down over her forehead and ears. The goop that Lavender used to make her hair sleek lost most of its potency. In a few hours, Hermione knew her hair would resort to being the bushy fluff-ball that it usually was.
"What do you want?" she asked angrily, staring directly into his eyes. But Draco did not seem to care. He scrutinized her forehead and cheeks. The gray of his eyes seemed to darken when his gaze fell onto her lips.
"I was just wondering...if you were all right," he finally said, stepping back. His fingers grazed over her bare skin, sending a wave of shivers over her skin. Hermione watched his actions, drinking in the mere image of him. His hair, probably nicely combed before this fiasco, now fell wildly over his eyes. He looked away and murmured something softly under his breath.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, feeling her anger ebb away little by little.
Draco mumbled something incoherently. Hermione strained to hear. Was it just her imagination or were his cheeks a bit pinker than usual?
"Malfoy, I can't hear you. You need to speak more clearly if you "
"I said," he began loudly, emphasizing each word, "that you...you look...decent tonight."
And despite everything that had happened, Hermione grinned and stepped out a bit from the shadows.
"For a Gryffindor, I mean," he quickly clarified.
She laughed and twirled around, watching with pleasure as her skirts flared up above her shins like a silver mist. The small pearls and shards of crystal sewed painstakingly into her gown glimmered like midsummer night stars. "Do you like it?" she asked with good cheer. "It was very pricey well, not very pricey for a Malfoy, probably but the woman at the shop said it looked all right. And I usually don't look very pretty in dresses or any formal wear, you see."
Draco cleared his throat and nodded before looking away. His cheeks were now pink. "But what's all that goop on your face? It makes you look unlike yourself. You look far better without those disgusting powders smeared about."
Immediately, Hermione's fingers made their way up to her face. True, she did use some foundation and applied some blush, but...she didn't look that bad, did she? Oh. It must have been the eyeliner. It was too dark. Or maybe it was the eyeshadow. She knew she should have told Parvati to lighten it up a bit, but
"My god. I can't believe I just said that to you," Draco muttered, scratching the back of his head. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and looked rather interestedly at a dusty vase. Hermione felt a tinge of wry amusement. She couldn't believe how awkward this was for the both of them.
"Is that all?" she asked, finally breaking the silence. She ignored the desire the wash all of this sticky make-up off of her face.
Draco said nothing and rocked back on his heels. Hermione stared pointedly at him, expecting him to find a way to make fun of her, as he always did. When nothing came, she turned on her heel and began to walk away.
X
She stood in front of him like a queen of the night in that gown. How could he stare at her and keep his distance? It was impossible. So he just looked at mundane little artifacts scattered about this ancient castle. She took it as an insult, probably. But he was in a selfish mood right now. And frankly, he didn't care about anything except for himself and Hermione at the moment. And she was leaving him, angry and proud like a monarch. The back of her dress fluttered enticingly, inviting him to run his hands through the smooth silk.
"Hold on."
She stopped in front of him but kept her back turned. And, ignoring every protest circling around in his brain, Draco stepped up behind her and breathed in her scent. His nose gently muzzled the nape of her neck that was so vulnerably exposed to him. Perhaps one kiss wouldn't hurt. One good-bye kiss. Just one. It was just a kiss. It couldn't hurt, it couldn't damage things too badly between them.
And tentatively, Draco lowered his lips to her bare shoulder. His tongue flicked out to taste her sweet flesh, enraptured just by the soft scent of roses and vanilla that engulfed her whole being. Did she ever smell like anything else, taste like anything else?
His lips gently slid upward from her shoulder to the softer, more vulnerable skin of her neck.
"Draco," Hermione whispered raggedly. But she could protest all that she wanted. Draco knew, as his arms encircled her waist and his hands trailed a hot path up from her stomach to her breasts, that she wanted this just as he did. And that she was powerless to stop this...just like him.
Hermione's back arched against his as his hands gently covered her breasts with painstaking tenderness. She laid her head on his shoulder and captured his lips with her own swollen ones. A rush of hot desire pounded through his aching body as she circled her arms around his neck and pulled him down more firmly against her.
And as she gently opened her mouth, Draco couldn't help wondering why this felt so...right. Did men and women live all their lives as one giant puzzle piece, seeking forever that one other piece that fitted with them? His tongue met with hers tentatively, and Draco smirked slightly, thinking that this was going to be one hell of a kiss.
Sensations pounded through his worn body as her chest heaved heavily against his hands. The soft swell of her breasts rose and fell underneath his fingers. She whimpered against his mouth but kissed him back hungrily. What happiness and relief he felt now with Hermione leaning against him like this surpassed the other childish desires that he had so easily succumbed to. Every kiss, every moan, every casual shag he had dealt out before being with Hermione they were just bland memories fading away in his mind. Hermione was here. She had the heat. She was the present. She was now.
And gently, Draco did something that he had never even planned doing. His kisses became lighter and more gentle, and within seconds, he pulled his lips away from hers. Quietly, he stared at her pale face, gazing fondly at her from her closed eyes to her red lips.
Warmth spread throughout his body as he held her carefully so as not to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her again...because he killed himself little by little when tears dropped from her eyes on an account of him. Every moment of coldness, each moment of forced courtesy and professionalism between them slaughtered what little was left of his soul.
But this warmth. It was like the elixir of life. His cold, corpse of a body was being rejuvenated with the elixir that was Hermione. And when he was with her, he felt utterly alive. When she smiled at him, he took joy at the hot blood rushing through out his body. When she touched him, he suddenly marveled at the texture of his own skin, slightly stunned yet satisfied at how pale he was. His five senses brightened, sharpened when she was with him. He was a corpse, but she brought him back, pulled him back into this physical world where not everything was money and power. She made him warm again, and this was strange because this warmth tingeing his fingertips wasn't the fiery desire or passion he usually felt when he was with her. This warmth was more comforting, less erratic but incredibly intense the same. It drummed heart and squelched his breath. With a graceful flick of his fingers, the loose strand of hair that hung over the left side of her forehead was tucked behind her ear.
"I'll admit that...I've wanted this," she whispered, her eyes still closed.
"I know you did," he said quietly in her ear.
"Did you?"
Draco closed his eyes and buried his face in the mass of loosened curls. "Yes."
And as fluidly as he would have done, Hermione wriggled out of his grasp and pulled away. He almost cried out, already dreading the hard emptiness that replaced her soft body. But he obliged. He couldn't trap her to him, no matter how much he wanted to keep her as his prisoner.
But she didn't leave him as he had thought that she would do. Instead, Hermione turned to face him, her eyes downcast but pondering. She ran her fingers through his mussed hair, trying but failing to comb back the wayward strands of platinum that fell over his eyes.
"Am I just a one-night stand?" she asked quietly, jerking him out of his defending thoughts.
"What?"
"You know. Just someone to play with. Just someone for a casual snog." Her words were light but her tone was not. Draco just barely managed to catch the quiver of her voice, but he knew for sure it was there.
He pressed his forehead against hers and asked softly, "Why do you think that?"
She closed her eyes briefly. And when she spoke again, she spoke with tears brimming her eyelids. "Because you hate me."
This time, Draco closed his eyes. Why must his romance be so complicated? How come he couldn't have fallen in love with a FUCKING pureblood? Was that too bloody much to ask for! Why Hermione? Why someone who was muggle-born and was in Gryffindor? Two strikes against her. Ah...but wasn't there really three strikes? Didn't they have one more chance of being together? "I don't hate you. You know that."
"Can you stand me, then?" she whispered, tears choking her voice.
Draco was stunned. Stand her?
"I'm not like you. I'm not a pureblooded aristocrat. I'm just me. I'm a mud I'm muggle-born." She bit her lip as tears trailed down her cheeks. Tears of anger. Tears of sorrow, of humiliation. And Draco watched her, his heart wrenching. His hands shook as he brushed her tears away.
"Granger..."
"It's that, isn't it?" she asked quietly.
And though he was a man built upon his own lies, Draco found himself unable to keep the truth from her. Ah, yes. He was the dark lord's heir. Strike three. "Yes."
Her brows furrowed more deeply. A quiet sob escaped her throat, and hearing that, Draco shut his eyes tightly and struggled against the heated tears threatening to cloud his eyes. Her docile acceptance of this simple fault that was not hers to being with...it stabbed him all over.
"I'm sorry," he said hollowly. "But you don't understand. There are people...like me who will hurt you. They will torture you until you bloody beg for them to kill you."
Hermione nodded, biting her lip furiously.
"And...I'm a part of them. It's how I grew up, Granger. Even if I wanted to get out, how can I?" He pulled himself away and faced the hallway leading to the Great Hall. "But I will protect you. Only you. Understand that."
X
This was like a bloody nightmare for her. She wanted to scream, cry, and slap the bastard's face. But she could not. Why? Because she cared about him. She cared about him so much that she was not even horrified that he would let something like her heritage come between them. But, she was rational. She knew what he thought. She already knew of Draco's allegiance to Voldemort, of his deadly ambition for power that hardly befitted a young man of eighteen. Would he throw all of that away for her? She had thought that he might have, maybe. But...Malfoys were impenetrable.
All she could do was accept his decision with good grace and try to move on. Anything else would demean her and her character. But when he said that, when he made that vow to her, she felt that there was some hope left in him yet.
"But I will protect you. Only you. Understand that."
"What will you protect me from? Death? Torture? Pain?" she asked, wiping the tears away with her fingertips.
Draco turned to stare at her. His gaze softened. "Everything."
"How about yourself?"
He looked away.
"Well, Draco Malfoy?" she said loudly, her voice rising with each word. "Will you protect me from yourself? From your hypocritical bearing? From your own selfishness?"
His eyes shot up. "Selfishness?"
Hermione shook her head and stepped back into the shadows. Her voice softened, just in case anyone would hear them yelling at each other. "I know why you are doing this. The last few weeks were just a fling. I was your toy, something to amuse yourself with. Something to seduce, to cajole, to kiss. But then when you felt something foreign, something like care, you back away. Why? Because you hate mudbloods like me. Every single one of us." Her eyes glittered, this time with anger, not sorrow. "But you're in too deep right now, aren't you? You're too deep in the ranks of your little death eaters, too deep in this relationship with...me."
"No. No! You don't know what you are " Draco snarled, stepping towards her.
"Yes, Malfoy," Hermione said softly while raising a hand to stop him in his tracks. "You don't need to lie to me, you know. I've known you for too long. You're so selfish. You want to pull yourself away from me because I don't agree with your ideals. You're sacrificing me for your own ascendance to power, to glory." Hermione stopped to breathe in. This was all true. And yet, these words seemed so surreal. "Don't apologize. Don't make excuses. Because I know. And I accept it. It's your life. I can't force you to do anything. You and I both know that."
Something flickered across his face. Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment. Shame? Did he feel shame? But when she opened her eyes again, his stoic mask was firmly set to place. He stared at her as he had always done since this all began, with curiosity and soft concern.
"Granger...I...I'm "
"I understand." But did she? Yes, she understood the situation and understood that she had to accept the consequences for her actions. But no, she did not understand him or herself. Was she truly harboring secret hopes hopes even unknown to herself until this night that Draco would leave the death eaters that easily, turn his back to the lessons learned since his birth, forgo the power and resources offered to him for...her? She was, and she realized this with a sickening thump, only a one-month desire shadowed by his eighteen-year ambition.
And then she spoke the words that hurt her and him the most. "So I will not bother you anymore."
The hallway seemed so much more darker then, the music much more wild and louder. The thrill of trysts, the romance of dancing, and fantasy of happily ever after they were all crushed underneath the relentless foot of the duties and obligations of real life. And Hermione realized with mild shock that no, this story, her and Draco's story was not a fairy tale.
Loud applause from the Great Hall greeted their ears like howls of harpies. Mock. Bravo, bravo! What a tragedy! More, we need more! But neither flinched. Hermione dwelled in the shadows of her own anger, Draco drowned in the light of his own conscience. She felt like a character on stage, reciting lines of angst for the enjoyment of paying spectators here to enjoy the show. The applause. Credit to her excellent characterization. The god damned applause!
"Why won't they stop clapping?" Draco asked quietly.
She eyed him evenly. The tears were dry. The wound in her heart bled freely. "It's the final song of the night."
And Draco walked quietly towards her, holding out his hand. "Then may I have this last dance?"
Hermione stared at his hand for a moment. His hand was the hand that would commit murders, murders against those of her kind, those with similar birth as hers. And he would do it with pleasure. He would think that he was doing good, and knowing him, he would drive those under him with the same zeal that he harbored. The owner of the hand frightened her, but all the same, he was loved by her.
"All right," she said quietly, stepping into the light for him. Only for him.
In one fluid motion, he took Hermione to his chest and wound his arm around her waist. His eyes locked with hers and she saw in those gray depths something shining like light. He is not right for them, Hermione thought as she gazed at the glow of his moon-colored hair and ivory-tinted skin. He does not belong in the darkness.
The gentle music of innocent love cradled their steps with its soft rhythm. With a sigh, knowing that this was the last time for her and Draco to be together like this, Hermione leaned in close to him and rested her head against his shoulder. Why were things so messed up in this world of theirs? Why was society so cruel?
Each step did Hermione dread and cherish at the same time. One step closer for Draco leaving her for his own ambitions, each step leading them into a world of their own, no matter how temporary it was. And as Hermione continued to breathe in his fresh scent of peppermint, Hermione couldn't help wondering if they've danced like this before. The thought was ridiculous, of course. They've never danced together before this, not even in her dreams. But still, Hermione thought she felt a sense of deja vu, him bidding her farewell with this last dance.
"How is it," Draco said quietly, "that you know me so well, Granger?"
"What do you mean?"
He paused before answering, perhaps trying to sort out his own turbulent emotions. "You've known me for seven years. And we've never spoken much either. But how is it that you read me so accurately, know what I want? Even those whom I've lived with, my own father and mother, do not know me half as well as you do, I should think."
Hermione rubbed her cheek against the cool silk of his robes. His arms around her tightened possessively. "I don't know."
A minute passed and neither of them spoke. Instead, they glided elegantly in the empty hall, gently prompted by the distant music. It seemed as if it were fated that they danced alone, away from those clumped together in the Great Hall, students who hardly knew of sacrifice and the acceptance of that sacrifice. And just as forbidden lovers should, Hermione and Draco danced in each other's arms to the fading music of violins and guitars.
"You know me for who I am," Draco whispered as the music began to wane. "And still, you accept me."
Hermione blinked back her tears. No more crying. She did enough of that, and she kept the tears bottled inside. And as the violins wailed their last note, she stepped back, preparing to leave. But before she left, Draco lifted her chin to face him with the tips of his fingers, and she faced him, her eyes shining with tenderness for him.
"You accept me," he repeated, his voice choking. His hands trembled as he brushed back locks of curled hair from her face. The tips of his fingers kissed her skin with every touch. "And I love you for that, Hermione."
And with that final declaration, Draco leaned down...and their lips met more tenderly than ever before.
Applause. Applause from the Great Hall. Applause from the gods.
The fitting close for this scene. And the lovers will take their bow, the bow that marks the end of this half of life and leads to the beginning of the next half.
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End Notes: SOB! I'm halfway though this ridiculously long story! Fifty percent finished! And I apologize in advance if this chapter is a bit of a tear-jerker. I didn't cry...because I was sort of writing it. It's the drama and angst of real life. What can I say:)
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Stuff That I Will Attempt to Clear Up and Answer:
Lemon! Muahahahaha!
It's a very maybe. I mean, this is an R-rated romance. So it would appropriate. :-)
Red Widow, Thomas Wellington, Blaise, Rowena, Salazar...
Ah. My little Mafia of original characters and characters that don't really pertain to this story! Don't worry,
dear readers! I put the OC's and Rowena, Salazar, and Blaise in the story with GOOD reason. They may be fading
in the background now, but I assure you, they will emerge into the light soon. Especially that Red Widow lady. If
things go as planned and Draco stops being such an ass, she will dawn as a very important character of the plot.
Not sure about Wellington though. But he's a useful character to tweak around with. ;)
Draco's Little Situation (THE DAMNED MARK!)
Please, people. This is a Hermione and Draco story, is it not? They may be going through hell
now but isn't that what makes a happy (or relatively happy) ending all the more beautiful? Don't worry,
dearies. Trust me.
Alert for New Chapters
Some people have been leaving in their reviews a request for me to alert them when I post a new
chapter. Well, if you are a member of the fanfiction dot net site, then there is this feature that's called Author
Alert. Bot alerts you by e-mail when an author you have marked updates. But for other non-members, please
leave a message for me in the reviews to alert you. I know a few people requested for me to update them
personally by e-mail but I've never really gotten a chance to do just that. But I will from now on. Thanks!
Some Much-Deserved Kudos
I want to thank all of you for your support personally. But alas, I cannot reply to over five-hundred (w00t!)
reviews. First off, I would like to thank Jen (IMBhawksrule you know who you are!) for sticking with me
through thick and thin on POHAL. You've been reviewing since the beginning and I love you and your comments
for it! You're wonderful thanks so much! Second is Corinne (bondgirl53001 you know who you are too!)
for sticking with me as well. The greatest praise for an author is hearing that another writer enjoys their work.
Thank you. RedWitch1 and Kiyoko and Adreena Nightingale and SPARKLING EYES
and Jadziadaxx and Sila-chan, your names just pop up into my head. Perhaps its because of your
reviews through out the last chapters. Love to you guys! Oh, and kittey, thanks for your awesomely long
reviews! I jump with glee every time I read them! Woohoo for long reviews!
I'm sorry if I left out anyone. There are just too many people to thank, but the people named above have just helped me so much. Aii... Enough with the SUPER LONG sentimentalities! Thank you for reading this! And as always, review please! XD