Warning: contains lemons! I meant to finish the story with this chapter, however, my muse decided differently. I'll focus temporarily on this fic for now so I can round it up decently. All mistakes are my own & Grammarly. Thank you for your patience, normally the next chapter will be the epilogue.
Chapter 9: *Still Day Six*
"Ah, C' mon! If that smile isn't the evidence that you know the answer, then someone kick me in the arse, please." Lifting his arm impatiently, Ron's gaze hovered over the two smiling faces.
"Can I test my kicking capabilities in that case? I need to know if my leg can reach high enough." Pansy agreed with his assessment, but the opportunity to goad him was too good to let it escape. She batted her eyelashes, with a grin, "May I try, pretty please?"
For all intents and purposes, Ron steered away from her legs reach, eyeing the distance between her foot and his globes, whereas Harry smirked widely at the ginger head's uneasiness.
"Hermione, do I have to pull the words from your mouth? I agree with the ginger, share it with the peasants, if you please?" Shaking his head to the sides, Blaise inquired. "We might guess the answer to all hints all by ourselves."
Draco rolled his eyes at the condescending tone, "Mate, you're grasping at it."
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus." Hermione's Latin accent was impeccable. "Have you guessed it?"
Theo frowned, "Is that a charm we don't know about?"
"Snape is rolling in his grave as we speak." Draco eyed his friend incredulous. "Mate, it's Hogwarts crest motto! Never tickle a sleeping dragon, duh?!" He waved a palm before his eyes.
"Why are you looking like that? Slytherin's house line is all I know by heart, 'Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness'." Pansy retorted, "So, the clue is related to Hogwarts?"
Harry reasoned, "So do all the other clues, I guess." He scratched his chin, lost in thoughts, "The optionated hat is the Sorting-"
"Sorting Hat," Tracey spoke at the same time. "The Whimsical Willow is...?"
"Isn't it the ultra unfriendly and very aggressive tree that tried to kill us with its massive branches, Harry?" Ron added. "Whose base leads secretly to the Shrieking Shack, remember?"
"Are you saying that the Whomping Willow's root base was a secret passageway to the haunted house in Hogsmeade?" Draco's question drove everyone's attention to the trio, his head spinning quickly to face Hermione.
"It wasn't haunted, people, it was where Remus Lupin hid while he transformed into his werewolf. The cries and howls were, in fact, werewolf noises." Hermione explained. "However, it's also the place where Severus was murdered by Nagini." Her voice lowered in volume, remembering the violent scene. "We saw it happen." Her gaze dropped to the floor.
Silence fell upon them. The memories reminding each one of whom they've lost, the loved ones or, in Snape's case, the respected ones. In contrast to the past where the houses would stick to one another in search of comfort, this time a hand found the nearest shoulder, regardless of who the other person might be or to which House they belonged.
If anything, these six days had shattered the walls between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry felt Blaise's palm on his shoulder, Pansy rubbed Ron's upper arm cautiously, unsure if he allowed her such liberties, and Draco's fingers found Hermione hand, lacing the digits tightly.
"He was my godfather." Draco gulped dry, squeezing his eyes shut, "My rock during those awful times when I had no one to turn to." The confession weighed heavy on everyone's heart.
Pansy invaded the blond's personal space to embrace him tightly, while every other Slytherin sought a way to have skin contact with their friend. "We know, Draco." Just for a few heartbeats, time stood still. Gryffindors witnessing a rare moment of bonding between the snakes. Though, when Pansy crossed looks with Hermione, the dark-haired witch made room for the curly-head.
"I regret not showing him the respect he deserved before he died. We learned too late how much he sacrificed," To everyone's surprise, Hermione wrapped her arms around the Slytherin wizard, although her next words were spoken as a whisper, close to his ear. "I'm sorry for your loss." She stalled for a second, but a confession burned in her throat, anxious to be spoken aloud. "I failed to see that you needed help too."
"I'm the last person who deserved your helping hand. The way I treated you, it's a miracle that you didn't Avada'ed me on the spot." He held her head at arms' length, both hands cradling her jaw carefully. "I expected nothing from you. How could I when I was all but an enjoyable person to you?"
Hermione closed the space in between, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss him softly. Turning the mood around right after, winking her eyebrows, "I guess you should start mending your wrongs by showing me your eternal gratitude."
"Excuse me, witch? I'm a Malfoy!" Draco gave her a scandalised once-over, ignoring the chuckling around him, "Malfoy's don't serve."
"There's a first for everything." His haughty look was retributed, accordingly. "Don't you agree, Pansy?"
"Only if it applies for lions as well, then I do agree. Or is it exclusively applied to the Green House members?" Pansy's lips twitched, while the female gazes locked in a shared understanding.
Harry turned his face away to hide his snickers behind a hand, when he heard Hermione's quipped answer, "If you add food to the equation, much can be achieved. He's low maintenance, you know?"
"I fear I can't say the same about your burden, sister. Yours is quite the opposite."
Two very distinctive huffs sounded next to both women, while the others cracked.
"This conversation is a little too pro-female to my taste," Blaise diverged the issue before one would extend the covered subject to all the wizards. "We've established that the Whimsical Willow is, in fact, the Whomping Willow; the optionated hat is a perfect alternative description to the Sorting Hat with his know-it-all attitude, but what about the other clues. Explain, for example, 990AD…"
As if it was synchronised, Draco and Hermione answered simultaneously, "Year of Hogwarts' establishment, and its location is in Scotland…"
Tracey wondered, "The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance are…"
"Is how Hogwarts decides if a child is allowed entrance." Draco surprised Hermione the most with his further explanation, "In 'Hogwarts, a History' there have been cases where the Quill wasn't allowed to write the name of the child because the Book stubbornly denied inscription and demanded more proof of wizardry as if it wasn't convinced of the kid's talent." Hermione studied him with amazement, "What, Granger? You're not the only one who read that book from head to toe."
Harry intervened, "How many times did you read it, Malfoy?"
The confusion was readable on the blond's features, "What do you mean, how many times? How many times should one read a boring tome in his life? There are interesting facts explained on those pages, but I have better things to do than to learn that thing by heart."
Two pairs of eyes looked intently at a quarrelling brown gaze, silently proving a point. The chin rose as she riposted, "It was one of my favourite books." She sought a free spot between Neville and Tracey to sit down, "We guessed already about the notorious parselmouth, Salazar Slytherin."
Theo added, "The accomplished duelist was Godric Gryffindor, though it's also applicable to Salazar."
"Who was a skilled cook?" Pansy inquired, sitting next to Hermione and stretching her legs before her.
"I can't say if she was skilled, but Helga Hufflepuff was known for her love for cooking." Hermione shrugged.
"That's the reason why the Badgers' common room is so close to the kitchens," Draco added, "We were often jealous of how close those yellow buggers were to all the desserts… It was quite a walk to get my hands on a cauldron cake."
Neville remarked, the corner of the mouth turned up, "Not so far, if you had a connection or two in the kitchens, right Harry?"
"Which connection?" Hermione perked up.
Ron shook his head with pursed lips, "Hmm, nothing. Nothing to worry about, 'Mione."
"Hey, Weasel, you and I will have a talk later, mate. We need to know more about your connections…" Blaise beat Theo, who wanted to ask the very same thing.
"You'll not be asking the house-elves to sneak food into the dorms, Ronald Weasley." If the voice wasn't a giveaway, then the fire sparks shooting from her eyes killed any lingering doubt, together with the pointing finger.
"Who says anything about sneaking?" Once more, the ginger-head sought for a safety distance, cursing the witches surrounding him, thought the lack of wands entered his mind last-minute.
Theo murmured, "Nah… no sneaking, only smuggling, trafficking, covertly leave food behind…"
"Contraband…" Blaise breathed.
"Hermione, we survived a war, let us enjoy life, including something more tasteful than these godawful quiches." Harry eased up the air in his typical gangly way.
"It's no right to use the elves for such jobs… we can fetch our own food from the kitchens." She tried once more.
Pansy faced the other witch straight in the eye, "Your problem is us using a house-elf for the job but not necessarily the sneaking itself?" The agreeing nod met a desperate face, with pleading hands towards the sky. "I marvel at their patience. Only you could have an objection against using a creature that loves to serve!"
Ron was quick to add, "Why do you think they stopped cleaning our common room once she started with her knitted hats?"
Tracey approached Hermione, "They love to serve, Hermione. Live life a little like a Slytherin, it can be fun, you know?"
"Define live like a Slytherin…" It came from Neville, wondering how far both houses stood from each other.
"Rules exist to be broken, Neville. Or at least slightly… sneak in some butterbeer or for the gents some firewhiskey into the dorms, run through the corridors outside Filch's knowledge. Food fights… pillow fights… or smoke a blunt by the-"
"Where did you get the weed?" Ron's ears perked up, remembering the nights he spent with George and Fred hiding from his mother while smoking a rolled-up doob.
Blaise's dark gaze gleamed, "We have our sources, but I know from nothing."
"You look so angelic, Zab's, I almost believe it." Hermione's hand drew an aureola in the air, over her head.
Draco followed the conversation silently, watching over that his face remained stoic. His Manor elves may have or not brought the necessary herbs, a job that he shared with Blaise and Theo. A few of those nights ended with the inevitable shaggings wherever a dark corner was found, he remembered. Times that looked so far away, from where he stood now.
Tracey dreamed aloud, "I miss those nights we spent outside, watching the stars…"
"Getting sloshed and high from the heavy stuff Draco's elf brought…" Pansy finished, leaning into the Gryffindor witch as if she was in the knowing.
Eight pairs of eyes shifted to the blond who blushed, internally cursing his ex-girlfriend for her big mouth. Clearing this throat, he moved on, "Notable for intelligence is undeniably Rowena Ravenclaw."
"But we still have four clues we don't get…" Neville moved to stand behind Tracey, discreetly lying a hand on her shoulder, though his move was not so stealth as hoped. "That name…"
Harry added, "De Mimsy-Porpington, or your snake's clue, Hermione, 'Executed by the higher churchmen'."
"Executed…" The curly-head looked pensive around, "Draco, wasn't that what happened to the Fat Friar?"
"How much can your brain retain?" She was a walking encyclopedia, after all, he thought.
"A frightening amount of things, Malfoy. It remains scary, no matter how long you know her." Harry replied, seeking a place to rest his bum on the abandoned buggy, arms crossed at chest height.
"Well, have I reached the limits of the Malfoy memory then?" Her loop-sided grin said it all.
While the Slytherin gave the Gryffindor witch a loaded glare, Ron approached Blaise, whispering, "Do you think you can get your hands on more of that stuff?"
"I'm sure something can be arranged. What about the uptight-thing on your side?" The tanned wizard knew the answer to that question, but he was curious about the ginger's thoughts.
"Huh... I'll ask Harry for help, or maybe Malfoy over there can make a distracting move?" Ron blinked, gritting away from Blaise, "Did I just suggested this?"
A corner turned up on Blaise's mouth, "I won't tell a soul. You might be cool, after all, Weasel." The pat on the back made Ron jerk forward.
Hermione went on a pondering mode, "The Fat Friar was a clerk who was executed by the Higher Churchmen because they suspected him about a healing ability, I need the book to revive the exact reason. Helena Ravenclaw was the thief who was murdered by Bloody Baron who, on his turn, committed suicide…"
Neville mumbled, "The killer who killed himself…"
She clacked thumb and middle finger, while pointing the forefinger, "Exactly, Neville. Helena stole her mother's tiara...holy Morgana, everything falls into place now I'm sure of the answer…" Hermione stood up, pacing relentlessly around. The others followed her as if watching a game of tennis. For the first time, Draco didn't hide his admiration for her intelligence, something his best friends recognised immediately; their faces unable to hide the knowing grin. The Gryffindor witch continued, "Only the name De Mimsy-Porpington… I read his name often but…"
"Try Nearly Headless Nick." Draco's suggestion froze Hermione on the spot. Her jaw fell open.
Blaise murmured, "Somebody quick, take a picture! The swot is speechless!"
"You're smart, after all."
Her witty come-back was interrupted by a loud roar behind her. "Whoa!" The tigers had been wholly forgotten, and the four witches yelped, startled.
Tracey squeaked, "Can we go somewhere else?"
-oOo-
After cursing their dinner for the nth-time, but eating their food anyway by lack of anything else - the moaning from all of them started already upon entering the lunch room; the group decided to take their bedding and camp outside at the Atrium for their last night on the Fortress, instead of retreating into their separate dorms. The men took care of the mattresses while the witches gathered all the available pillows and blankets, creating a big circle of beds far away from the cage.
Choosing where to lie down seemed a game of duck, duck, goose. Draco sandwiched gently but determined Hermione between him and Blaise before Lavender could react, and Pansy perched herself next to the ginger head who lied down next to Harry, for similar reasons.
Fending for himself, Blaise grabbed Theo by the collar to claim the empty bed between him and the Chosen One, "Zabini, couldn't you be a little gentler?" As of last, Pansy did similar to Tracey leaving Draco and Neville to deal with the blonde Gryffindor between them. Lavender remained the only one oblivious to the entire operation, the rest grinning or sending sympathetic looks across the room.
"You don't leave me any choice than to lie down here with you…" Hermione looked sideways to Draco, murmuring her thoughts.
"I can always trade places if you so desire." He raised himself by the arms, but a firm hand pushed him back to the first spot, "Oomph." He smirked, "I thought so."
"Git."
"Swot."
"I miss the booze!" Blaise's voice interrupted their bantering. "Can we raid the lunch room and see if we can find anything drinkable aside water?"
"As long as you don't bring any quiche with you, please?" Hermione moaned, "I'll hex the person who dares to shove one under my nose!"
Theo taunted, "What if it's McGonagall?" The answer was groaning into her pillow.
The rest of the night was spent with laughter, sharing hilarious incidents in their common room, while they sipped tea - the only drink to be found in the godforsaken bunker, which on top of all, cooled off too fast to their taste. The catering was their biggest frustration about the place.
-oOo-
Eyelids got heavier, one by one succumbing to day's exhausting activities. Until only two remained awake, lying on their backs with an arm flexed behind their heads watching in silence the dark sky and its stars.
Blaise snored deeply, snuggling into Theo. Hermione looked behind her and grinned at the sight.
The shuffling from Draco's side told her he did the same, "I'm used to this. In the common room, if he fell asleep on any shoulder, he cuddled." Draco's hot breath so close to her earlobe gave her the goosebumps.
"I thought snakes were cold-blooded animals, no hearts…" She whispered back, noticing how Draco inched closer. He laid now on his side, head resting on his hand.
"We can be cold-blooded bastards, yes, but we go through fire for one of ours." His grey orbs were piercing daggers through her. The intensity was doing weird things to her breathing pattern.
"Yet, you struggled alone." It wasn't an accusation, but a simple remark.
"I pushed them away, aware of the doomed outcome. One way or the other, I expected not to survive the war, only uncertain by whose hand it would be." His left hand adventured to cross the distance and land softly on her shoulder, stroking the skin absently underneath her shirt. "It was choosing between the pest or cholera."
"Why didn't you ask for help?" She studied his gaze, searching for only-god-knew-what.
However, he didn't shift his eyes, "You wouldn't have listened, and I was too proud. Too scared. The fear of my mother's fate held me back, anticipating to be shunned away for my past behaviour. Hell, I can name a thousand other reasons, but in short, I was a coward."
The hand crawled underneath her sleeve, to touch the soft skin below the fabric, seeking a way over the shoulder blades to her collarbone, ghosting.
"If we could go back in time…" Her gaze moved to his protruding Adam's apple, that shifted as he swallowed dry.
"With the knowledge I have today? My father would have never gotten the chance to get this bloody mark on my arm, that I'm sure of." The hatred flashed shortly through his features.
"You don't consider my blood dirty?" She barely blinked from anxiety.
"You bleed red just like me, witch." He kept shifting his gaze from her eyes to her lips. "Your magic is rightfully yours, not stolen from a poor squib, and your place is within our Wizarding Community as much I belong there." Draco kept inching closer until he felt the edges of the mattress dig in his sides, the blanket pushed away as if his next move would be pulling her into his bed.
Hermione closed in also, holding tight to the corner of her blanket, "Draco…"
He leaned into her, stopping just an inch away from her soft mouth. His grey gaze asked for permission before the eyelids closed, and their lips finally met in the middle. The chaste kiss turned into an open mouth kiss, tongues sneaking out, searching for a playmate.
Totally forgetting where he was, Draco pressed her into her mattress, caving into a suppressed desire. Hermione drowned in the heated embrace, but a new snore from an unidentifiable source forced her common sense to return.
For a second, the witch pondered on what she wanted at that precise moment, but the conclusion didn't wait too long to come. Hermione broke their kiss, rose to her feet and walked away towards the dorms, glancing behind her in an open invitation.
Draco didn't need to be told twice, stopping on the way two times to devour her mouth.
The girls' dorm had one set staple beds that remained unused. Once inside the bedroom, he closed the door while Hermione divested of her shirt and bra, assisted by his eager hands to undress her short and knickers.
His eyes roamed over her body, taking in her beauty under the moonlight shining through the small window; while his hands made short work of his own shirt and bottoms. Draco came onto her in a flash, a hand scooping her jaw to tilt it in the right direction, the other pressing their hips together. His hardness was undeniably present against her belly.
"You're so beautiful." His breathed whisper was murmured between his kissing, "Hermione..." He hoisted her in his arms, laying her gently on the lower mattress. His hands spread her legs, to seek a comfortable position between them, fully intending on retributing favour from a few days ago.
Without shifting his look away from her face, his thumbs worked in tandem, rubbing outside her outer lips, before spreading them open and display the inner labia, the hooded nub begging for attention.
Her breath speeded up; this slow approach was turning into delicious torture. A circle drawn around her clit had her jerking her hips in no time. Looking smug, he repeated the move one time, then another, saving in his mind every stoking breath, each jerk and moan. His tongue nipped, lapped and sucked the abandoned nub, the fingers sliding towards her core and dipping inside her walls, at first a single digit, soon followed by a second.
The perfect collaboration between fingers and tongue, plus a pair of molten mercury eyes staring into her brown gaze had her squirming in no time; her own hands seeking her breasts to tweak her nipples the way she loved the most. His free hand joined the torture of her nipples, pinching just enough to make her moan; alternating with kneading the entire bosom.
Expertly, he rubbed a particular point inside her quim, feeling a special kind of pride as she squirted into his palm. A taste he didn't want to miss, licking the wetness from his palm before returning the fingers to the task at hand, one that almost was at full completion. The way her walls clamped around his hand, and how her clit hardened under his tongue's ministrations, made him double his efforts. She was so close…
Her mewls grew louder, legs flexing restlessly next to the wizards' head until she fell over the edge, shoulders and head jolting from the bed. In a blink of an eye, Draco lifted his mouth from her core to her lips halfway her fall, and devoured the desperate moans of pleasure; the rubbing fingers inside her pussy prolonging her bliss incessantly.
But Draco wanted to feel the rippling waves around his hard member, and he guided his cock into her hot soaked pussy, his personal well of fire. Her legs caged him inside the circle of limbs the next second, heels pressing hard against his globes. He waited for a heartbeat or two and let her adjust to his size, before setting up a lazy pace and delight in the way her pussy clenched around him, begging him to thrust deeper and harder.
However, he was a wizard who longed to savour the sheer beauty underneath his body. His thrusts were long and slow, his hands touched every available inch of skin, his ears perked at the sound of her hitching breath, the soft cries and wails; his eyes drowned in the way her skin flushed from heat and arousal, her own brown gaze unable to hide the satisfaction following her orgasm, each time they fluttered open.
Lips met, kissed and devoured one another. Teeth bit the bottom lip in turn, or the earlobe it caught, while their counterpart busied itself with lapping and biting a pink pursed areola.
He wanted their encounter to last for hours, but his body had another opinion on the matter, much like hers did. Against his will, his hips started to rut erratically; her hands shifting between his spine, kneading his taut globes or holding tight to his shoulders from sheer intoxicating arousal. Who pushed who over the edge, no one couldn't tell. But his low grunt and her soft cry rose in the air nearly simultaneously, his arms snaking around her frame to holder the tightest possible against his chest, just as her legs did to his waist.
She could hear the blood buzzing in her ears; his gaze blazed as their eyes met moments before his eyelids closed, and her mouth was requisitioned in a searing kiss. His bodyweight buried her into the mattress, yet Hermione didn't complain. In fact, her stroking hands prevented him from shifting his body to the side, her legs snaked tighter around his waist, and the now flaccid member left an emptiness behind as he slipped from her cocooning quim.
After a while, don't ask them how long as keeping time was the least of their concerns, Draco did succeed in shifting to the side, but the movement made her shiver from the cold. "Oh…" He never regretted the absence of his wand more than at that moment, powerless as he was to cast a warming charm without his wooden companion. All the blankets, even the unused ones, were upstairs with the others, and he had no other choice than to rise to his feet and pick up their clothing.
"We should get back anyway. The last thing I want is eight pairs of eyes mocking our absence in the circle, tomorrow." Hermione focussed on arranging the tank top over his chest, instead of facing him.
Draco cleared his throat, "Do you regret it?" His mind was already working on his rebuttal, in case she answered positively; his usual self-protection method to avoid the discovering of how much one could hurt him with a simple 'yes'.
"No, I took the initiative in case you forgot." Her forehead frowned and eased, while her fingers caught a piece of lint on his tank top. Her mind was too busy with assessing his tone and reconsidering where they stood after their shagging-session. She swallowed dry.
Using thumb and forefinger, he lifted her chin until her eyes met his. "I don't care what those empty-heads think of us. What I want to know is if this is a no-strings-attached or if you're open to further exploration, as we spoke this morning?"
The creases on her forehead returned, "We don't know each other that well."
"You know me at my worst. You've seen my dark side, what I'm capable of if pushed to the limit. You've seen how easily I'm deceived. However, inside this fortress, you've got a glimpse of who I am among friends, that I'm a person you can count on, can build upon. If you're willing, I can show you who I can be." He wore his heart on his sleeve. He couldn't recall if he's ever been this honest to his mother, the most important woman in his life; though the witch before him was starting to climb up in that list also.
"Will you show me this man?" They still had a long way before vows could be made, but as a starter, it counted.
Slowly, the corners of his mouth rose into a beaming smile, "Don't expect me to bow before you, I'm no Hufflepuff."
"No breakfast in bed, no roses with Valentine, or a romantic letter per owl?" She gave him her best puppy-eyes.
His answer was a simple rising of one eyebrow, more aristocratic was impossible. "Breakfast in bed is a pain in the arse with all the flying crumbs. Why should I wait to give you flowers until that bloody date and please," the next part was spoken against her lips, "I prefer to hear you scream my name while I eat your quim, instead of wasting time on a bloody love letter."
She flushed all-over.
"Let's go upstairs before we both freeze in here." He laced their fingers and walked her back to the Atrium. At their spot, he took the blanket and motioned her to lie down on his half, spooning around her body before tucking them both.
The last thing she registered before she fell asleep, was the gentle kiss on the curve of her neck and an arm wrapping itself around her waist just below her bosom while the other was underneath her neck, and a hairy leg seeking a resting place between her thighs. He was a cuddler too...