Green Ribbon
If Draco thought his summer was hell, he had clearly forgotten how it felt to be touched by the icy death claws of winter.
A week and a half had passed by since that last haunting day of classes – since his lips had touched the very girl who would assault him not even a minute later.
He didn't know why he did it. After their encounter in the class room, after her words and touches had soothed him so, his vivid nightmares about the girl only became more frequent. He started waking up with an uncomfortable rigid feeling in between his legs that not long before had hardly made appearances at all. He was truly worried for the toll his lack of release would take on him. He was scared about his body failing on him, and it seemed as if the only thought that could push his body forward to work was the thought of her. So, he took his moral sense out of the picture and continued to imagine her, sighing his name – his first name. Every morning he showered, and every morning he let his body lead his mind to thoughts about a girl he was madly in hate with just to allow some sort of release.
He thought about the delicate little bird in so many ways and it disgusted him to no end. Every single time he had finished he felt ashamed.
But he couldn't get the images out of his head.
In the moment, when he had kissed her so tenderly, he wasn't thinking about those images though. He didn't know what came over him. He truly had the intentions of telling her to back off, if not for her own sake and safety, then for his. He couldn't continue thinking about her in the shower if he was going to slaughter her chances of life in just a few months. It had sickened him to the point that one morning, vomit filled the shower drain as his thoughts about pleasing her sexually turned into him being forced to torture her. He didn't want these thoughts to plague his conscience, especially if he were to go through with his duties. He needed her gone.
In the moment, though, his dominance had subsided. He allowed her to bark at him like he had done to her so many times and she took advantage of it. He had asked Salazar, or the heavens, or whatever for her to be angry at him before. He wanted her to be angry with him. He deserved it.
He deserved her punishment and her insulting behaviour, but something overcame him. He had asked her not to use his first name on multiple occasions. It always pissed him off, as if their relationship had changed just because she had seen him in a vulnerable position. But this time, he wasn't angry.
He didn't know what he was, truthfully. All he knew was that when that word left her mouth it had stabbed him right through the chest and reminded him of everything. All the intimate, secluded moments together.
He was confused and lonely. But he knew that he had options if he was simply confused and lonely. No, he wanted her, specifically.
He wanted Granger.
And, though he knew she wasn't exactly fond of him, he also knew her warmth directed at him wasn't just because of the nature of the girl. She didn't just help him – something snapped in her when she was caring for him in that torn apart classroom. She was crying, begging him to co-operate so she could save him. When he had finally opened his eyes and look at her face, she was a complete mess, looking as though she were about to have an onslaught of anxiety, herself. She was shaking when he felt that ice being placed into his hands, nipping at his hot skin. She healed him, and after she had healed him, she had healed him some more. She couldn't just undo the damage she had done – no, she had to go above and beyond. How very like her. After the cube of ice had melted and just before the reality of it all dawned upon him, he allowed her to stare into his eyes. It was silent, and he had trusted her, and everything felt so right, despite his mind telling him how wrong it all actually was.
And something happened when she was soothing him. She had grabbed his face; a most intimate gesture he had never received before. So intimate, it only felt right to return the favor when he had kissed her.
A kiss that could never be duplicated. Not if he truly wanted her safe.
And he did. In an ill, hateful twist of events, he wanted her safety more than most things he had ever wanted. Huh, Fortune was a woman.
So, he decided now would be the perfect time to start his purge of Granger, the songbird who had decided to rest near territory that had been sprayed by a feline. But the white-throated sparrow still had a living chance if he chose to ignore his instincts.
To kiss her.
He threw the thoughts out of his mind, knowing he would get nowhere if he continued to dwell in the memories of his mixed moment of utter insanity and pure euphoria. In the memories of her lips, kissing him back.
"Draco." Snape's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked to his mentor who was just passing him in the hall. "My office, now."
With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Malfoy followed the man to their destination. A cloud of annoyance fogged his thoughts, for it was late and he was hoping to turn into bed early, bored with the day's lack of events and his continuous thoughts about a certain bushy haired girl.
When the two had reached the professor's rather large and barren office, Snape immediately got into an almost fighting position, facing the boy. This didn't come as a surprise to Draco, considering he had been going through these routines with the dark-haired man nearly four times a week.
Snape was training him. Draco didn't know what for.
All he knew was that Snape was teaching him dark magic and countless spells – spells that weren't taught or accessible to students here at Hogwarts. Draco sat through session after session with different topics of discussion, ranging from healing to defense, to potions, to offense. Snape had even explained the spells he had used on Draco to heal him when he had been tortured by the Dark Snake himself. Draco knew exactly what tonight would consist of, and he knew he was just too emotionally exhausted to partake in it. But he had to push that exhaustion away for so many reasons.
He didn't want Snape to see his thoughts. Actually, it terrified Draco to his core to imagine Snape entering his private mind. If Snape's placement near the head of Voldemort's table suggested anything, Draco knew he couldn't trust the man. But, again, Draco had sat closely by Voldemort many times. He just didn't know.
He didn't know anything about Snape; the man had confused him too many times. But now, he had been teaching him incredible skills and had truly taken him on as a pupil. In just a week, Draco's knowledge of magic had nearly doubled. If Snape didn't want Draco's success, he clearly wouldn't have trained him so well. But success in the killing of Albus Dumbledore? Draco didn't know Snape's intentions.
"Occulumency: The magical defense of the mind against external penetration." Snape explained, wand in hand. "There are many ways of torture, Malfoy. One of the worst ways is through Legilimency." Draco stumbled to understand and hid his lack of knowledge with a roll of his eyes. Snape's gaze tightened, and he continued, "Close your eyes." Instantly, Draco cautioned himself.
"I don't-
"Draco, you must listen to me." Severus strode up to the boy and gripped his arms, "It is the Dark Lord's most favoured way of torture. Invading the mind of his victims, stripping them of their secrecy, and creating vision after vision, designed to torture the victim into madness. You must know how to stop this."
Something about Snape's words actually soothed Malfoy. Though, there is nothing more terrifying than torture through the mind (Draco knew that much), it was almost as if Severus had silently confirmed that his intentions were against Voldemort. If he was to teach Draco a skill in order to counter Voldemort's attacks, an attack that Voldemort had apparently so dearly loved, clearly these sessions were to prepare Draco to fight against the Snake-eyed monster.
Suddenly, Snape seemed a little more trustworthy.
Draco's lips tightened and he nodded his head, closing his eyes.
He felt a cold wave rush over his skull and instantly knew he was being encroached upon.
"Put up walls, Draco." The teacher started, pushing his pupil to start fighting back, "It will take all of your strength, but you must manipulate memories and thoughts to succeed."
Though Severus had entered Draco's thoughts, he hadn't made a move to allow Draco preparation and a moment to feel comfortable with this intrusion. He needed Draco to trust him if plans were to be set in motion.
Following orders, Draco pushed away at the intruder. Snape hardly budged.
Sighing, Severus decided he had to intrude on his pupil's thoughts for Draco to understand the severity of Legilimency. He needed to put effort in fighting back against infiltrators.
And Draco suddenly felt Severus' presence in every thought, every memory, every nightmare and every panic attack. Draco felt his body shake in anticipation of an oncoming attack. This couldn't be happening.
His heart rate quickened and, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Draco pushed at Severus' occupancy, attempting to corner him away from untouched thoughts about Hermione. How could he have been so stupid to let Voldemort's right hand man into his mind? Draco always had a need for self-preservation, and Snape had the power to send Draco's whole family into the torturous hands of Voldemort. His trust in Snape had faltered in his mind, and he needed him out of there, now.
He hid the thoughts of Granger behind him and as far away from the intruder as possible, fighting as hard as he could to protect his little bird. Clearly, Snape had caught on, for all other memories and thoughts were dropped and he forced himself towards the very memories Draco had been so keen on protecting. Not there!
Quickly, he found himself reliving the moment he had grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her back against the wall. He revisited the confusion in her eyes, the anger covering her features. His name was heard from her mouth and, as though the memory had been dunked under water, everything proceeded in slow-motion.
Emotions slowly drenched his body, and he saw himself press the girl against the wall and her breathing hitch. She didn't look as scared as she was a second ago. His mouth moved, whispering hotly against her ear, "you don't want to know" then moving to the front of her face. He grabbed her cheeks and lifted her eyes to meet his. Her honey-brown eyes.
And then he covered her mouth with his own. Her soft lips received him, pressing against him almost as much as his lips pressed against hers. He tried his best not to be rough with her, afraid of hurting the tiny bird he had somehow caught in his sharp claws. One move and he could scratch her, but that's not what he wanted. She didn't deserve his anger or revenge. She deserved a thank you.
His tongue reached out to caress her lower lip and suddenly, time sped up again. A hand came flying at his face and his eyes snapped open to see her standing in front of him, eyes wide and horrified, with her hand covering her mouth.
"Not there!" As though he had felt the emotionally damaging slap again, in the present moment, barbaric anger raged out of Draco's shaking body and he felt himself mentally slam into his professor, forcing him out of his mind and snapping his eyes open. He looked at his professor in terror, his vision gone red. His professor was silent, unsure. Draco heaved, snarling at the older man. "Don't you fucking come near me again!"
And that was the last time he saw the professor for the rest of the winter break. He ran out of that office, unstable breathing causing light-headedness. He needed to get anywhere in order to sort out his emotions.
He found himself back in that same, dark classroom, gripping his hair while terrifying images of tortured muggle-borns filled his vision. He could only think about Hermione.
If only she was there to heal him, once again, with her sweet songs of warmth and safety.
-x-
Hermione remembered her childhood – particularly, Christmas traditions and songs that filled the house with cheer and love and joy. The holidays have always been an especially happy time of the year for Hermione.
They were. At least, before Draco.
Hermione had spent the first week of her Christmas break with her parents, knowing very well that things would just be awkward between her and Ron if she had gone to the Burrow to this special time of year. She wanted to be there, for Harry at the very least, but she hadn't seen her parents in quite sometime and wanted the loving touch of her mother to try and replace the memories of other loving touches she had received recently. She knew that would never happen though. Nothing could replace the memory of her childhood bully suddenly giving her a kiss so soothing, it could have put most to sleep.
She just didn't know what he was thinking.
But, after the relaxing week with her parents and the opening of presents on Christmas morning, she received an owl from Harry telling her that whatever Ron had with Lavender was on the rocks. He had hardly spoken of her over the holiday break, and when he had, it was usually him nit-picking at her habits and behaviourisms. He had also disclosed to Harry that found her rather annoying, too.
Hermione couldn't even stifle the giggle she felt on her tongue when reading that sentence.
After a little more talk about Ron's lack of enthusiasm in opening Lavender's gift, Harry wrote her a Happy Christmas and asked if she would be willing to spend at least the last of the two-week holiday at the Burrow. He wrote that he missed her, and that things between him and Ginny were getting quite awkward. He needed someone to talk to and he actually missed her.
It had only been a week.
But Hermione needed no more convincing. She packed her bag, using a shrinking charm to fit all of her needs into one small pouch, and her parents said their goodbyes, happy they got to spend the most important week of the holiday break with their daughter.
So, here she was; standing outside the Burrow, nerves picking at her stomach.
She always had trouble lying to her two best friends. She knew, when promising to keep Draco's boathouse a secret, that she would have to lie to her best friends – she just didn't know how much lying she would be forced to do.
Allowing herself to take a slow, deep breath, she knocked on the door. A few yells were heard from outside, calling others.
"The door!"
"The door? Who could possibly be at our door?"
"I don't know, but somebody get the door!"
A small chorus of heavy footfalls were heard, and the door swung open to reveal the twins, gleaming at Hermione.
"It's Hermione!" George called, both twins giving her a side-hug happily. More stomps were heard, and a flash of orange-red hair came flying at her.
"Ginny!" Hermione laughed as the girl smacked into her, hugging her with great force one would never expect out of such a small, red-headed girl. Ginny pulled away from her friend, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.
"Why'd you come?" She asked, though not in a tone that Hermione could ever take offence from. From the corner of her eye she saw a body, and looking past Ginny, she noticed the boy with a glowing smile on his face, ruffled hair, and his green eyes looking at her from under his glasses.
"Harry." She nodded her head in his direction, smiling and stepping around Ginny to give her best friend a hug, "Harry actually sent me an owl, telling me he missed me."
When Hermione turned around she noted a small look of concern on Ginny, that was quickly covered with a smile and a nod. Huh. The twins barked laughs at the two, shaking their heads.
"Almost as if you two are an old married couple! Can't even stand a week away from each other." Fred laughed and the two walked past them shaking their heads, giving Harry a pat on the back.
There was that look on Ginny again.
"Hermione?"Ron's voice sounded from behind the two and they turned around to see a befuddled looking boy in sweatpants and a sweater, holding a half-eaten tart. Hermione smiled at him and walked over to give him a warm hug.
"Hey, Ron." She smiled up at the tall boy, pressing her face into his chest. When she pulled away, he still looked confused.
"What're you doing here?" He smiled at her softly, swallowing whatever he had in his mouth. He set the tart down on the kitchen table.
"Apparently," Ginny started, almost hurtfully, "Harry missed her too much to spend another week away from her." And with that, she walked past the group and up the stairs. Hermione shot a look at Harry who returned the very same look of concern, and he excused himself to follow wherever Ginny went.
Ron stiffened a little, and Hermione shook her head.
"You know it's not like that, Ron." She reassured, taking off her coat and setting it on the coat rack. Ron nodded as he leaned against the kitchen island, picking at his pastry worriedly, "It never has been, never will."
Something about those words must have soothed his concerns as he grabbed his tart once again and shoved the rest of it in his mouth.
Later on that evening, after Harry had calmed Ginny somehow, the two best friends sat together in front of the fireplace, and Harry pulled out a gift from behind his back, wrapped in light-brown paper packaging with a green, silk ribbon.
Something about that ribbon made her feel sick to her stomach.
"Harry, you really shouldn't have." She shook her head, a smile on her face, "Though, you very well know by now that I have presents for everyone in that little bag."
He laughed, nodding his head, "Oh yeah, I know." He pushed the gift in-between them, placing it in Hermione's hands. "Open it."
And she did, reminding herself to be extra careful with the silk ribbon.
In her hand, she held a book of poetry. She examined the interior to realize that it not only held some of the poetry world's best works, it also had inscriptions about each author who wrote them.
On that table of contents, she saw Percival Pratt's name. Yes, she was going to be sick.
"I noticed you were carrying your own book around with you for a while, on poetry, but one day you stopped carrying it around. I assumed you had to return it back to the library, so I thought, maybe…"
Harry trailed off and looked at his soulmate, embarrassed to think that this was a gift of poor quality for her. She shook her head at him as if reading his thoughts.
"It's beautiful, Harry." She smiled and stretched out from her seated position to give him a hug. "Thank you so much."
After chatting for some time about Ron's relationship and Ginny's somewhat hints at liking Harry, despite her being with Dean, Harry headed off to bed and Hermione was left with the green ribbon in hand, staring down at the soft fabric.
She truly didn't know what he was thinking at the time.
Yes, in the time leading up to that kiss, things between her and Draco had gotten interestingly intimate. She kept his secrets for him, something she could have never imagined doing just a few months prior. They had seen each other at their most vulnerable, Hermione was sure of it.
He'd seen her cry. For him. She had cried for him to open his eyes and accept her help and to calm down. She didn't want to see him hurt, like she had seen previously, and she was willing to give everything she had, including her pride, in order to heal him.
And she had seen him cry. When she hit him with that horrendous spell, she had seen him sob, tangled in those vines, pain shooting out from the expressions on his face. She had seen him in the midst of a panic attack, struggling to regain control. How much more intimate could they get?
He had kissed her – that's how much more intimate – and it was soft.
She thought he was literally going to murder her, but instead, he kissed her softly. It made her world fall apart all the same.
She stroked the green fabric, thinking about Draco and whether or not he cared for her in that sense. But she couldn't understand. She couldn't understand the tenderness of his lips in contrast to the words that had left that very same mouth so many times.
And he ran off. He ran so fast Hermione was left wondering whether or not that kiss had actually happened. But it had, and she felt emotions swallowing her whole. Hand still clasped onto her mouth, where his lips had just caressed her ever so gently, she slid down the wall, numbed by the experience. Shock still present in her body.
She felt sorry for slapping him. She didn't usually slap boys who made moves on her, not that many had in the past. Viktor Krum was probably the only one who had attempted anything with her, and she accepted it happily. Though it was simply a good-bye peck, quick and sad, Viktor was loyal to her even after leaving Hogwarts – sending her letters every so often, asking how she was and telling her about his travels. He was a solid, fine young man who hardly had the courage to approach her at all. She was glad, though, that he finally did before departing. He was her first kiss, as pathetic as it may seem.
But she wasn't too keen on going home with him to Bulgaria, and that quickly ended any romantic interests there. They had remained friends, though, and she was happy with that.
But Draco was completely different. Now that she had someone to compare Krum to, she realized that his peck hardly even qualified as a kiss. Her stomach flipped, remembering Draco's hands on her face, his hot whispers, and his tongue licking at entry.
She tucked the green ribbon into her pocket and headed to Ginny's room where she usually slept. She was still awake when Hermione got there, looking pale. Ginny sat up in her bed, eyebrows dipped in concern.
"Are you okay?" She asked, scooting over and tapping the space beside her, allowing Hermione to get under the covers with her to talk. Hermione debated on how much she could reveal, feeling guilt in her gut for hiding so much.
"I…" Hermione started, unsure, "I don't know."
Ginny looked at her, stomach still bubbling in anticipation, "What's wrong?" she asked, soothingly. Hermione shrugged.
"I need to hate someone, but I can't." She said simply, causing only further confusion in her friend.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, there's this boy…" She started, looking at her nervous hands in her lap, "He kissed me, Gin." Ginny's face dropped.
"Oh."
Hermione turned to her friend, unsure of how to take that comment. When she saw the look on Ginny's face, she quickly understood.
"No, Ginny! Not Harry." She said, shaking her head and grabbing her friend's hands. "Ginny, I would never do that to you. You have to know we're only platonic."
Ginny's eyes lifted to her friend's face, an eyebrow lifted.
"If not him, then who?"
Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach. Indeed, who was a wonderful question; one that she couldn't answer. She shook her head.
"I… I can't exactly say." She started, "It's not my secret to tell." Ginny huffed, wanting to know. Hermione continued, "If it makes you feel any better, I slapped him right after."
Ginny's eyes shot to Hermione's, a giggle escaping her lips. "Was it Cormac?" Hermione shook her head, smiling. "Sorry, it would be a lovely thought – you slapping McLaggen. He deserves it."
"That he does." Hermione agreed, sighing as the girl who felt like a little sister to Hermione cuddled up next to her. They talked some more about potential victims of Hermione's slap, and with time passing, Ginny slowly began to doze off. Hermione sighed, tucking herself further into the bed, wishing for sleep to take over her. Her hand slid down to her pocket and removed the green ribbon once again, twirling it in between her fingers.
That night, she dreamed of silk linens, blond hair, and hot, sweet nothings in her ear.
-x-
A/N: Yes, Malfoy just quoted Machiavelli. Quite fitting, I thought. And don't you just love Harry and Hermione's relationship? So soft and caring, a big contrast from Draco. Don't worry – They truly are just friends. As much as it would be a lovely idea, Harry and Hermione, I find something very settling and comforting about their platonic soul-mate…ness. Also, I love Dramione too much, if you haven't already figured that one out yet.
This is your last chance to get my reviews up to 50 and then have double the reading to do every week and throughout the summer. If I get to fifty reviews, I post twice a week. Right now I'm posting every Friday evening. But you have the power to change it! R&R!
NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:
Alarms went off in Hermione's head, instantly. She knew if this were merely months prior, she would have been throwing her arms around Ron's neck and savouring every moment his lips collided with hers, tasting everything he had to give. But Hermione stood still, lips unmoving, horrified that Ron had possibly thought this to be a good idea.
Love always, Elle – your author for this story.