FOX AND HOUND

Rated M for strong language and sexual situations

Chapter Summary: "You're name is Draco Malfoy. You are the son of Lucius Malfoy, the man who murdered my father…"

Disclaimer: Oh, please. In my dreams.

Authors Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing. That makes me so very happy!

CHAPTER FOUR: SECRETS

The beach was their place. They had met there every weekend for a month. Together they would sit, talk, and sometimes Fox even got her Hound to laugh. For the most part, though, she did all the talking. She would tell him about this dance class and that dance class, and the different girls at the academy, as well as her views on politics, and certain Muggle movies she enjoyed. He sat and listened to her, or at least pretended to. Most of the time his mind would wander into the water, thinking about the time they had splashed in their underwear, or to the dance academy where they had danced and shared their first kiss.

They didn't kiss a lot, that was for sure. Usually the only times they did kiss were when they were alone on the beach and Fox would ask him to dance with her. After they would move together rhythmically he would place another kiss on her full, beautiful lips that he was starting to fall in love with.

He noticed that she was never the one to kiss him.

Those nights all ended the same. They would dance, they would kiss, and then Draco would ask her to come up to his apartment with him. She denied him every time, always insisting that she had to go back to the academy before Madame Pross or Catherine or somebody else sent out a search party for her.

He felt himself falling for her. She was just so beautiful and her personality so rich. He liked that she didn't mind it when she spoke and he didn't pay any attention. He loved the way she moved her hips when they stood in the sand at night, and he loved the way she moved the rest of her body when she stood in her dance classes, on the top of her toes, moving to the music. She never took any moment for granted, and always took the time to sit in silence with him, merely enjoying his presence. She was not afraid to argue with him (although it rarely happened, considering he hardly understood the Muggle issues she talked about) and that made him like her even more. She smelled perfect, all the time, and her hair was soft and free. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. The fact that she was a Muggle and he was a hypocrite and everything he had once despised had completely vanished from his mind. He felt whole again with her.

He was no longer torn. She had sewn him up, pieced him back together bit by bit.

She saved him.

It was cloudy and looked like rain. Draco sat on the beach in their usual spot waiting. She was almost fifteen minutes late which was odd for her because she was always prompt. He figured she might have had to stay behind and talk with Madame Pross about their summer recital that was coming up in a week. He had been trying not to think about the end of summer - he had never asked where she would be going for school and it was all he could hope for that she wasn't going some place too far away.

He was twisting his wand around in his hand carelessly. It was strange for him not to be able to use it all the time. He had almost gotten used to living without it. His wand used to be his crutch - it made him feel safe and powerful because he knew he could protect himself with it. But being with Fox for so long had made him more independent - he felt like he could do anything… he was invincible.

"Hound?" A faint voice had called to him. He stood up, quickly hiding his wand back in the waist band of his pants, and saw Fox walking slowly towards him. Her wild hair was blowing behind her, and her eyes were red rimmed and swollen. She had been crying. His brows furrowed together as he walked over to meet her.

"Fox, what's wrong?" He asked placing his hands on her arms. Her face was blank, her eyes glassy from her tears. He began to worry. What if Madame Pross had decided to let Maria be the prima ballerina in their recital? What if all those times of leaving her hair in a messy bun had made Madame Pross so mad she told Fox she couldn't be in the ballet dances? What if she had found out about Fox meeting him on the beach and had kicked her out of the recital completely? So many things could have gone wrong and he couldn't help the feeling that it was all his fault.

"I know who you are."

His heart stopped.

No.

"That's impossible."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud but it slipped. He hadn't been expecting her to say what she had said. He let go of her and his arms dropped to his sides.

"No, it's not impossible. I know who you are and you know who I am, too." Tears were starting to run down her cheeks, now and he couldn't bare the sight. He had made plenty of girls cry before but this was different - he had no idea what he had done.

"Who am I then?" He demanded, positive that she had no idea. Maybe there was a Muggle film star who looked like him. He dashed that though, because she wouldn't be crying then. Perhaps she thought he was a Muggle criminal or something.

Yes, that had to be it.

"You're name is Draco Malfoy. You are the son of Lucius Malfoy, the man who murdered my father Anthony Greengrass."

His heart stopped again. She couldn't know him. How the fuck did she know him?! How could a Muggle know of him or his father? And why had his father killed hers? He didn't even know her father had died! Come to think of is he knew nothing of her family.

Wait.

Fuck.

Shit.

Greengrass.

"Daphne Greengrass…I know her… how…?" He looked up at her utterly confused, and terrified of where their conversation was headed.

"Daphne is my sister. My name is Astoria. I'm a witch. And you're a wizard."

His heart beat had now started pumping double time. She was a witch! A witch!

She was a fucking witch the whole entire time! A pure blood witch, too!

But she was still crying.

Why was she still crying?

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" He couldn't think of anything else to ask her.

"My parents took me out in my third year after the Dark Lord's return. They sent me to Beauxbatons instead because my father felt it was safer for me here in France." She explained to him. Draco's mind started to fill with questions, then.

"But your sister was still at Hogwarts. She was in my year." He repeated this as if it would disprove her story - as if she was then going to take everything back and say she just made it all up.

"She wanted to stay at Hogwarts. She didn't believe it when my father said a war was going to occur - she told him that nobody in their right mind was going to challenge the Dark Lord this time, not even Harry Potter." She wasn't looking him. She stared at her feet or at the ocean, occasionally at the sky - anywhere but into his eyes.

"How did your father even know about the Dark Lord's return?" Draco couldn't help being so confused by all the information she was laying on him. It just wasn't making any sense. Why had his father killed her father? How did her father know all of this? How did she know it was him?

"My father was a Death Eater. In fact, my sister also became a Death Eater after Dumbledore's death, but the Dark Lord was unsatisfied with her work - she almost lost him quite a bit of valuable information - so he killed her within a few months. When he asked my father for a suitable replacement, namely me, my father refused him. The Dark Lord didn't feel my father was important enough to kill himself, so he sent Lucius to do it. Your father killed my father under the Dark Lord's orders."

Draco felt his heart breaking all over again. His soul was ripping apart and all the stitching and repairing Fox (or Astoria) had done to him had become a complete waste. He was torn again.

"I know why he did it. It's what the Dark Lord commanded and when the Dark Lord commands you to do something you do it - or you die." She stated matter-of-factly, her tears stopping but her face still splotched and her eyes still hurt. "You would know all about that though, I suppose."

Her words stung him.

"So you lied to me. This entire time has been a lie." He said softly but she began shaking her head.

"No. I haven't lied to you about anything. I never told you the whole entire truth, but I never lied. I really have attended Madame Pross' Academy for the last two years. I go every summer after school. I don't use magic on a regular basis, so I have never done anything to you to make you think something that wasn't real. I honestly love being around the Muggles here. The girls at the academy are my best friends." She seemed so different to him now. The emptiness he had felt when he had come to France seemed to have transferred to her, now. "During the war, though, it became really difficult to talk to them anymore. They didn't understand what I was going through. For them life was easy, while I had to sit back and wait to hear about how my sister and then my father had been murdered all because of the Dark Lord. I was an orphan and I was alone. Nobody understood how I felt." She was sobbing. He was dieing.

"Your mother…?" His voice was soft and scratchy as he felt a lump in his throat begin to form.

"She died when I was eleven - right before I entered Hogwarts. That's probably why you never saw me or heard of me. I kept out of the way and out of sight and I didn't have any friends. It took me a long time before I was able to break out of my shell. But by then, of course, it was too late and my father had sent me here to France." The sobbing had stopped but the tears had not. He felt so guilty.

"I'm sorry about my father." She shrugged.

"I found an old issue of the Daily Prophet in my trunk. That's how I figured out who you were. You were a Death Eater, too." He nodded. What else could he do? There was no denying the fact. It was pretty well known throughout the entire Wizarding World that he and his father had been Death Eaters and that he had been the one meant to kill Dumbledore.

"I didn't want to be." He lied.

She finally caught his eye. He couldn't read the emotions in hers but he did notice that they had become the same steely grey as his own.

She reached up with both of her hands and began to unbutton his shirt. He looked down as her fingers worked slowly at each button, and when they had reached the final one she pushed the material off of his shoulders and he let it fall to the ground. It was the first time he had been shirtless in front of her, but instead of glancing over his muscles that had usually drawn the attention of most witches, she took hold of his left arm and lifted it up, showing the scarred Dark Mark resting on his forearm. She traced the skull with her fingers.

"Nobody becomes a Death Eater unless they want to be one. You're father was one and you wanted him to be proud of you. You felt like it was your obligation until you realized what all it entailed. That's when you didn't want to be a Death Eater - when it was too late. It was the same situation for my father. When he decided too much was too much, he was killed. I imagine a similar fate would have befallen you had you chosen to leave." She had stepped much closer to him, her fingers tracing all the lines and scars on his chest and arms. Although he felt like crumbling beneath her, he couldn't deny that her touch burned his skin and he wanted to hold her and take her and make her his with all of his being.

"I had to chose life. I couldn't leave my mother." He whispered down to her. She nodded.

"I do not blame you." She whispered back, now looking up at him.

"I am so sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"You did nothing wrong. It took me a while to come to that conclusion but I have. As far as I'm concerned I've only known you for a month and a half and you've never done anything to harm me. Even if you had, though, how could I not forgive you? Draco, you mean the world to me."

The sound of his name falling from her lips was all it took. He bent down and kissed her. The kiss didn't last long and he forced himself away quickly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He said but she started shaking her head.

"Will you stop apologizing already?" She breathed before throwing her arms around his shoulders and her lips against his. It was the first time she had ever kissed him.

And he loved it.

His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Thunder rolled above them and raindrops started falling from the sky.

"Come up to my place." He said and this time she said nothing, only nodded. He smiled and took her hand. The pair ran up the beach, through the foliage, and across the street to his apartment building. It was only then that Draco realized he had left his shirt on the beach, but he did not care. Astoria was gripping his hand with both of hers as they raced up to the second floor. As he scrambled for the key she rolled her eyes at him, pushing his hand down and pulled out a long, thin piece of wood.

"Alohomora." She whispered, her wand placed lightly on the door handle. The lock clicked and they entered the room, Draco immediately taking her into his arms as he kicked the door shut.

"I think that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen you do." He murmured as he started kissing her neck fiercely, nipping at her skin.

"Unlock a door?" She asked laughing slightly and he felt the rumble in her throat as she did so, and focused his attention there.

"No, using magic."

"I see." She whispered as she put her hands on Draco's head and brought him back up to her lips. He had backed her against his bed and the pair had fallen down onto it.

"Maybe next time summon you some water or disarm you, or something." She told him from underneath his lips. He had started unbuttoning her shirt now.

"Oh, stop it. You're turning me on." He whispered as he started kissing her stomach and her breasts (at least the skin above her bra).

"Draco…" She breathed his name and he came up to catch her lips.

"What?" He asked, afraid the joking was over and she was going to tell him that she couldn't do this with him because of what his father had done. His father managed to ruin everything.

"I've never done this before." Her cheeks turned bright red. He smiled.

"Astoria…" Her name sounded like music coming from his mouth.

"What?"

"Neither have I."

She smiled at him.

He loved that fucking smile.

He started kissing her again as she managed to remove his belt and undo his pants. He was quick to slide them off as she began to unfasten her own belt and remove her shorts. She was wearing the same black panties she had worn when they swam in the sea, but this time she had on a lacy black bra to go with them. They looked like quite a pair - her in her black bra and panties, him in black briefs.

A match made in… Well, somewhere. Draco doubted they made people like him in Heaven.

Astoria, on the other hand, must have come straight from there. She was an angel.

Her skin was so soft beneath his hands and lips. He couldn't touch her enough. With every item of clothing he removed the softer she seemed to be. She breathed heavily as his lips caressed her more sensitive spots and a moan or two even escaped her mouth when he kissed the insides of her thighs.

"Draco… Draco…"

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"Oh, Draco!"

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"Draco?"

He turned to look at her. She was laying on her side, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes. She was still slightly sweaty from their activity, and a smile was still resting on her face, as well as on his own. They had moved under the covers after they had finished (the second time) and now his arm was laying across her waist and their legs entangled under the covers.

"Do you love me?"

He kissed her lips. Every fiber of his being wanted to keep her there with him forever and ever. She was everything he ever wanted. She completed him.

But he couldn't tell her that. He had to keep her guessing. The Malfoy inside of him laughed at her slightly frustrated expression.

"You are so mysterious." She whispered before placing a light kiss on his lips.

"I love mysteries."

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