CHAPTER SEVEN: YOURS AND MINE
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Wednesday, November 5, 1997 – Thursday, November 6, 1997
Teddy sat with Draco and Hermione during Herbology Lecture-Lab that morning, and the three worked on Bladderworts, carnivorous plants that captured their prey with the use of an inflatable bag organ. Currently, they were dissecting the largest, and most dangerous, of the species: Utricularia triffidus, a rare, beautiful purple flower that resembled an Asiatic orchid, but was about the size of a cantaloupe.
"U. triffidus are voracious killers, known best for their uncanny ability to walk across water on their three mandible-like legs to get at its food," Professor Sprout explained as she ambled down the rows between the greenhouse tables, her crazy pointed hat marking her passage to and fro. The woman carefully watched her students cut up and examine the plants in question. "Using a poison barbed whip to first sting and then draw in prey, triffidus typically captures and digests approximately a dozen small fish and songbirds a week. Tribal rumors even tell of swarms of the plants working in accord using a series of clicks to communicate attack patterns to assault rural human villages, although no direct evidence has ever been presented to correlate these oral traditions." She dramatically leaned her face in between Hermione and Teddy's shoulders, her expression severe, her voice affectedly spooky. "Very dangerous buggies, nonetheless! Not to be taken lightly!" She continued around the end of the row and kept walking back the way she'd come. "Their poison, however, is invaluable in curing a variety of magical maladies…"
"Like what?" Teddy asked aloud, his curiosity piqued at the word "cure."
He could feel Hermione's eyes on him, but concentrated on cutting through a sticky, fibrous stalk, refusing to meet her gaze so openly. He was feeling particularly vulnerable this morning after a restless night of dreams, all having to do with the woman he loved – who was standing mere centimeters away - being naked under him and crying out his name in pleasure.
"Well, they're a powerful restorative for the liver, spleen, and gall bladder, able to stem the tide of infection for a time," the Professor explained. "The extractions from today's class will be sent to Professor Slughorn who will brew potions from them to owl off to St. Mungo's in a few weeks."
Teddy considered that carefully. His illness was going to debilitate his organs near the end. This triffidus poison might buy him some extra time, just in case things progressed faster than planned. He'd have to talk to Snape about procuring him some of the potions from Slughorn before they made their way out to the hospital in London.
"You okay?" Hermione whispered, indicating the section of plant that Teddy had apparently mutilated. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized that he'd been slicing the same wet cellulose over and over again, until now it was a pulpy mush. He actually felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment.
"Um… Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."
"That's not like you," Draco commented in a murmur that was low enough for only the three of them to hear. His calculating grey eyes were narrowed in thought. "You all right, bro? You've been looking pretty beat lately."
Teddy shrugged it off and gave them the same lie he'd told Blaise the other day. Neither his friend, nor Hermione seem convinced, however.
"Was it just the one headache, or have you had them before?" she probed in a hushed tone. "It's just that I've noticed you've been washed out the last few times I've seen you, too."
Inwardly, Teddy swore. He hated lying, but he didn't want either Hermione or Drake to worry. Besides, his illness was somewhat of a private nature, and he didn't really want to share the particulars of the slow erosion of his body with anyone. It was bad enough Snape, Dumbledore, Pomfrey and McGonagall knew (not to mention most of the staff of St. Mungo's and his mum), but to see the inevitable pity in either of his friends' eyes… that would unman him. So, he mentally crossed his fingers and continued fibbing. "Too much homework, not enough sleep. Same thing we're all going through probably."
Draco's eyes constricted even further in clear suspicion. "That didn't answer her question," he pointed out.
Teddy sighed. "It's stress, that's all. But I'll go see Madam Pomfrey after Defense Against the Dark Arts later today, okay? Snape would be furious if I missed, even if it was because of being in hospital."
Hermione's hand unexpectedly laid itself tenderly across his and a jolt shot straight into Teddy's gut at the touch. "Do you promise?" she asked, clearly worried, biting her lower lip.
She was really concerned for him! Teddy looked up into her brown and gold flecked eyes, trying to keep his voice and gaze steady while inside quelling the little jig that was going on in his stomach. "Yeah, I'll go."
That assurance seemed to ease them both markedly, and the matter dropped, much to Teddy's relief. The three then worked hard to fix the damaged triffidus stem and to complete their assignment on time, but still only managed an 'E' for the day's work after finishing up last in class.
When they left Herbology, they took lunch together in the Great Hall, and this time, Hermione sat with Draco at Slytherin's table at the furthest end, across from Teddy. They talked about the next Quidditch match – the second last of the season until spring – in which Slytherin would be playing against Ravenclaw (a week later, Gryffindor would take on Hufflepuff in the term's final match-up). "The Silver Snakes" had already beat "The Black Badgers" in mid-October, but "The Golden Lions" had taken down "The Screaming Eagles" a week earlier, so Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied at the moment according to the point spread. Draco was hoping his team would take the cup this year – a first for Slytherin in over eight seasons – and he was hoping his final game of his Hogwarts career would pit him against Potter, too, so he was intent upon winning against Ravenclaw to get a possible shot at Gryffindor come end of May. It would seem that some rivalries would never die in the heart, regardless of an open call for truce.
The meal was spent comfortably, and Teddy had an opportunity to observe Drake and Hermione interact like a "normal" couple for the first time. They seemed to get on spectacularly, their temperaments, wit and intelligence a good match even when they disagreed on a point. Once or twice, they passed secret longing looks, but thankfully, they weren't overly obnoxious about such things, as new couples often had the habit. They also included Teddy in their conversation smoothly, as if they were an honest-to-Merlin troika, instead of a duo plus one unfortunate tagalong. For the first time in weeks, Teddy found himself opening up and feeling a little lighthearted. It was nice to be in the presence of two people he loved, whom he previously thought irreconcilable.
After lunch, the three went in separate directions, Hermione off to her two-hour N.E.W.T.s Prep Lecture with Professor McGonagall, Draco out to the Quidditch pitch for his weekly Wednesday practice (until the season ended for this term, that was), and Teddy off to Snape's D.A.D.A. class.
As he walked alone towards the First Floor classrooms, dodging the throng of robes headed every which way for afternoon lessons, Teddy thought about what had happened that morning and again at lunch, and had to caution himself. He was still very much an outsider to Hermione's world; the awkward "fifth wheel" in a "two person maximum" relationship. It wouldn't do to get too close and comfortable with such intimacies as they'd just shared only to later be shut down when she and Drake took off alone together. He'd end up constantly broken hearted if he didn't watch himself.
He decided that he'd have to just be more careful, keep a discreet distance. Granger was his friend, and nothing more. He kept telling himself that over and over again, even as the lingering feel of her fingers on his hand remained fresh in his mind.
Wednesday night's "appointment" with Draco started out very similarly to their very first "date." He came into Hermione's room, and they hugged. He kissed her gently, but pulled away before things could get any hotter. Then he removed his shoes and socks and sat on the couch, prompting her to do the same. This time, she brought the water and snacks over to the small end table for them, and joined him, also removing her shoes and socks. They sat in their favorite reclining position, and easily picked up their previous game of telling secrets to each other.
"Ever thought about a girl sexually?" Malfoy asked her spontaneously, grinning and waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her over her shoulder.
She blew hair out of her face with playful exasperation and shook her head. "No, you're the only person I've ever considered in that way before. Remember?" She raised a challenging eyebrow at him and smirked. "Have you ever considered a boy sexually?" she dared to ask.
He paused, exhaled. "Yes," he admitted, clearly uncomfortable with the question, but effectively trapped into telling the truth, since it had been his opening question that started it all. "When I hit puberty the summer after Second Year, I had a couple of wet dreams about a friend. That was the extent of it, though." He cleared his throat, very embarrassed. "My turn again," he stated promptly, switching subjects in an obvious attempt to prevent any further mortification on his part. "Can you cast any really difficult spells? I mean, aside from the ones we learn in classes."
She thought about it. "I can do the Patronus charm."
He nodded, obviously impressed. "Advanced magic."
"Can you do it?" she asked him, curious.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah."
She turned around on her hip and looked over at him, sincerely interested. "What shape does yours take?"
He grinned cheesy. "Guess."
She measured him. "Hmmm… It's supposed to reflect your true soul." She made a moue with her mouth, and tried her hand at speculating. "A large cat of some kind." He shook his head, but was apparently immensely flattered by the way he seemed to puff up a bit.
She thought about it some more. "A shark."
He laughed, his face now reflecting a bit of offense. "Nope. One more chance."
She grew exasperated. "A snake's too obvious, but I'll go with it."
"Not even close," he teased. "Here, I'll show you."
Wriggling his arm out from under her, he sprawled his long limbs over and up so he was standing. He picked his wand up off the end table when he'd left it for safekeeping earlier, and mentally took a moment to apparently conjure a happy thought. Hermione sat up, entranced with what he was doing. Draco was a rather powerful wizard, she knew from their classes together and the fact that he was in the top ten students in their grade. She knew he'd mastered the art of Occlumency (as taught to him by his mad Aunt Bella after taking the Dark Mark, but before he'd actually switched sides in the war), and from his time with the Order, she also knew he could proficiently cast the Protean Charm, two of the three Unforgivables (Cruciatus and Imperius), and was able to cast flawlessly non-verbal and even a few simple wandless spells – especially those meant to block jinxes. So it was with little surprise that he produced his Patronus easily for her with a flick of his wrist.
"Expecto Patronum."
White myst shot out of the end of his wand and coalesced into the shape of an eagle. It screeched and flung its wings out to the side. Hermione gasped and sat up, completely captivated. "Oh, Draco, it's beautiful!" she commented in awe, watching the majestic bird soar about the room in a single lap, before Draco recalled it by ending the spell. "And it completely fits, too!"
He looked down at her and smiled, a slight blush tinting his pale cheeks. "What about yours?"
She giggled. "Mine is not so magnificent. It's rather silly, actually."
"Show me," he coaxed, and with a sigh in capitulation, she stood, gathered her wand and cast the spell for him. "Is that a… a weasel?" He sounded mildly amused as her Patronus twined its way around him playfully.
Hermione harrumphed and let the spell go. "Eurasian Otter, actually. And there are a lot of animals lumped under the Mustelid family aside from weasels, I'll have you know. Badgers and wolverines, for instance." She poked her wand at him. "So, don't' take me lightly."
Draco laughed. "Now I get why you and the red heads are such good friends."
She grumbled under her breath about obnoxious Slytherins and sat back down on the couch, twirling her wand between her fingers. "My turn again."
Draco joined her, lounging indolently back, his arms (and wand) clasped behind his head, his legs spread out straight towards the fire. "No, it's mine."
She shook her head firmly. "I asked you what your Patronus was, and then you asked me. So, that makes it my turn again." She folded her arms and looked up at him challengingly.
"Tricky witch," he complimented and gracefully yielded the floor to her. "Fine, ask away."
"What's your wand made of?"
Draco threw her a lascivious smirk and wagged his eyebrows again. "Wanna see it?"
She blushed, and cleared her throat with a prim "ahem!" before amending her statement. "I meant the one in your hand." He suppressed a laugh by pursing his lips, and she elbowed him. "Be serious."
"Okay, okay," he surrendered and casually tossed his wand onto the end table. "Hawthorn wood, unicorn hair center, ten inches. Yours?"
Hermione held hers up between them, gripping it proudly. "Vine wood, dragon heartstring center, ten and three quarters inches."
Draco hummed in thought and his brows shot down in consideration. "Interesting."
She looked over at him. "What is?"
He reached out and tentatively took her wand in his hand, asking permission first with his eyes, of course. "Vine wood represents resurrection or transformation, joy, consistency, love." He studied it carefully. "You wouldn't happen to know which dragon was used?"
"Ollivander said it was an Opaleye," she replied.
Draco smiled. "Ah, that fits. They're the most nurturing and least aggressive of the species, good at disguising themselves to avoid capture, but tough when cornered. Incredibly beautiful and rare, too. I bet you're really good with Transfiguration, Charms, and Healing with this thing."
Hermione could only nod dumbly. She had never actually researched this subject before, and was fascinated to know how Draco knew so much. "And what about Hawthorne and Unicorn hair?"
He shrugged. "'Thorn wood supposedly represents male potency, passion, cleansing or purification, strife. Unicorn hair is a strong binding material; it ups the chances of keeping spell misfires down." He handed her wand back to her. "That's some good magic you've got there, Granger. I can see why it was attracted to you when you picked it up."
She blushed hotter, and quickly put her wand down next to his on the table, realizing that Draco's sprig had certainly picked the right match as well.
"My turn again," he reminded her. When she nodded in acquiescence, he paused for a moment before trouncing ahead. "Have you ever felt anything sexual for Potter?"
To say Hermione was shocked would have been an understatement. "What? Merlin's toes, no! Harry's like a brother to me." Draco considered her meaningfully, doubt still flitting around the frown lines in his mouth, and she rolled her eyes and sighed. "I have never entertained the slightest thought about Harry in that way, Draco. I told you before, you're the only man I ever have. Do you want me to say it in Cantonese? Will that help you to believe me?"
His smirk was back at her last offering. "Well, sure, Granger. If you can manage it, then I'd love to hear your attempt at Chinese."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Fink." Tucking her knees under her, she turned her body more towards him. "Change out! It's my turn once more." She bit her lip in momentary hesitation, knowing what she wanted to ask, but worried. How would he take her question? Would he answer her, or would he tell her to sod off and stomp out of the room in anger? When she remained indecisive for a few minutes, Draco nudged her with his knee.
"Just ask it, Granger. I'll tell you, whatever it is."
Bucking up her courage, she opened her mouth. "How many girls have you slept with?"
He stared at her quietly for a bit, his face serious again. The long pause told her the answer was going to be something she didn't want to hear. "Eight," he finally admitted and she felt like sinking into the floor. Maybe it had been better if she'd never asked.
"If you want to know who they were, I'll tell you," he offered. "But you have to ask me directly."
Was she seriously that curious? What if it was someone she was friends with? And did this all really matter anyway? It bothered her to think it, but yes, she really wanted to know who the "competition" had been, so to speak. "Okay, who… were they?" she asked, staring intently into the fire, as if the act of not looking at him would make it easier to hear the list. Her heart started pounding in her chest.
He sighed, took a deep breath and listed them off. "Pansy Parkinson, Marietta Edgecombe, Megan Jones, Anna Mirfield, Julie Parkes, Hestia and Flora Carrow, and Fay Dunbar."
Hermione's anxiety lessened considerably knowing that none of those girls were even close acquaintances, especially the Parkinson bint… Her head swung around in surprise as an unexpected thought crept into her mind. "Wait, you dated the Carrow twins? Both at the same time?"
Draco said nothing, continuing to watch her through half-lidded eyes, his expression carefully neutral. His silence was damning, though. Apparently, he had fooled around with them both at once. How in Godric's beard did you actually do something like that, though? Did she even want to know?
"I… see."
His warm hand gripping hers startled her, as did his sudden and powerful jerk that ended with her splayed across his lap, her face centimeters from his. "I won't be jealous of yours if you won't be jealous of mine," he offered.
But she hadn't slept with any of "hers." The tradeoff he proposed seemed decidedly in his favor, given that. Still, she nodded. "You're here with me now. That's all that matters, I suppose."
Under the hand that was supported on his chest to prevent her from falling over, she felt his heart physically beat faster. Nothing else changed about his demeanor, but she still had felt it. "Good," he said, then bent and kissed her as his arms came up around her to hold her once more.
They settled back onto the couch and talked for hours more. As Hermione listened to Draco – really listened, not just to his words, but to his tones and even the silent pauses in the flow of conversation – she learned more about him in those few hours than she had over the last seven years. And some of her preconceived notions were unexpectedly tossed away like so much junk as well. For instance, his home life hadn't been all roses, despite his wealth and family breeding. He and his father obviously had issues, too. She hadn't gotten the nitty gritty, but the impression was left with her that Draco's respect for his father had been lessened somehow by the whole mess with the Dark Lord. She also learned that he loved his mother very much, but felt she was a little overbearing in the coddling department. It apparently hadn't occurred yet to Narcissa Malfoy that her little boy was now legally an adult.
In exchange, she bared more of her own past, talking about her various trials and tribulations through the years in dealing with Voldemort – from going after the Philosopher's Stone to the Battle in the Department of Mysteries. When she got to the part where she'd concocted the Polyjuice Potion in Second Year and had sent Harry and Ron to Draco disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, she paused, embarrassed. Malfoy was surprised by the news at first, then chuckled. "How very Slytherin of you," he simply commended, and she'd felt a little glow at his praise.
The hours passed pleasantly in this fashion, and before either of them knew it, it was well past midnight. Draco made to leave, but Hermione tugged him back down and convinced him to stay by snuggling up to his warm chest. He gave in easily enough, and soon, the two of them fell asleep together on the couch, nestling down into each other's arms.
"You awake finally?" Draco murmured against her cheek.
Hermione smiled. Hearing his drowsy voice made a silly, giddy feeling slide through her tummy. "Apparently," she admitted. "What time is it?"
"Sometime after five," he let her know, and she felt a momentary panic. As if reading her mind, he huffed and tightened his grip around her waist to keep her in place when she started to move away from him. "Calm down, it's Thursday. No classes for either of us until this afternoon."
Oh, that was right, wasn't it? Her only class today was Defense Against The Dark Arts Lecture, followed immediately by the Lab. She and Draco shared the same schedule on Thursdays, except he had a one-hour N.E.W.T. Prep Lecture immediate after D.A.D.A., she'd found out over the course of the last week. They could both afford to sleep in this morning. Instantly, she settled back down, snuggling closer.
They lay quietly for a bit, when Draco finally broke the silence. "I really liked what we did on Monday," he began cautiously. "Making you orgasm, I mean." His hand stroked down the length of her arm, causing her knees to knock together. "And I wanted to know if you wanted to do it again?"
She came fully awake then. Again? Could she? Her breath caught at the very thought of those feelings running through her once more. "You mean now?" She felt his nodding head against her neck as he pressed a light kiss to her skin. "Yes, okay," she agreed, already growing warm and tingly inside. "I'd like that."
He sat up immediately and pulled her up after him. "This time, though, I want to try it a little differently." He put two fingers under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "Do you trust me to know I won't hurt you, Granger?" he asked. "That what I'll do with you will only feel good?"
She nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I trust you, Draco."
A slow smirk wound its way up the side of his beautiful face and made her heart ache. He sat back against the couch, placing his feet on the ground and patted his lap. "Then hop up and face me straight on."
Scooting up on her knees, she lifted one leg and placed it on the other side of him, straddling his lap. He put his hands on her waist and guided her to sit down directly onto his pelvis. She felt his hard erection immediately pushing up against her and gasped at the sensation. He continued to watch her with those enigmatic grey eyes, a small smile on his kissable lips. "You're going to rub up against me and come that way."
Hermione's eyes widened at the thought. Rub up against… it?
"I'll guide your movements until you're confident enough to do it yourself," he eased her concerns and she nodded, acceding to his direction.
Her hands came up to hold onto his well muscled shoulders for balance and he squirmed his hips under her until he moved into a position that felt comfortable for them both. He flipped her skirt up, so that only her underwear and his pants separated them, and then he placed his hands gently on her bottom, and looked her in the eyes. He began slow, moving her up his length with applied pressure on her cheeks. As she slid up and across him, she gasped and jolted in response.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked, and suddenly she remembered what he'd said to her in their first lesson about one of the things he liked – being talked to by his partner during sexual acts. She licked her lips, gathered her courage and tried it out.
"I'm getting wet again," she whispered, her cheeks suffusing with heat.
His eyes widened in astonishment first, but immediately they grew dark with excitement. "Is that so? Tell me more."
He was rubbing her back down his length and then pulling her back up. Her breath caught. "Little electric sparks shoot through my abdomen when you push up against me. And I'm tender here." Her hands moved from his shoulders to cup her breasts, massaging them through the fabric of her white, cotton school shirt and the white cotton and lace bra underneath. Just that little touch caused her to clench her thighs and her hips to jerk forward of their own accord, which made Draco moan.
"Damn, Granger… keep talking and don't stop moving. You're seriously turning me on."
The thought of making this man under her unhinge emboldened Hermione in a way nothing else had so far. She suddenly felt powerful, looking down into his face, which was already transposed by lust. She was causing this to happen to him, wasn't she? She began sliding her hips in time with his urgings, grinding herself down on him, even as her hands began unbuttoning her shirt. He watched her, completely astounded by her boldness, but to Hermione, what she was doing somehow seemed right. As the last button slid free, she slipped her shirt off her shoulders and tossed it to the floor heedlessly even as she kept moving over him.
"Shit," he swore under his breath as they both noticed her nipples straining through the fabric of her bra at the same moment. She ran her hands over them and moaned, loving the crisp feel scraping across her tender skin. "Pinch them," he commanded softly, his hands becoming more insistent, pulling her body down against his erection even as he began thrusting up against her faster and harder. "Tell me how it feels."
She complied, and gasped, feeling warm liquid rush into her panties. "Oh, god… it's… that little bit of pain… it caused me to get wetter in between my legs. And my beasts ache for more." She pinched again and threw her head back, biting her lip hard. "Merlin… they're sore, heavy. Your hands on me… they're so hot against my skin. I want them all over me, Draco. I want you to touch me and put your mouth everywhere. I want you to mark me."
"Give me your neck then," he demanded, thrusting against her briskly. She bent over him, putting both hands on the couch back on either side and tilted her neck to the left, baring her right side. He kissed her skin first, and then began sucking on her pulse, forcing her hips over him almost brutally now.
"Bite me," she begged, wanting to know how it felt for his teeth to sink down onto her. He did as she asked, and she wailed at the sensation. He used his tongue to lathe the marks, soothing them, but the desire he'd fanned in her blood was suddenly out of control. She grabbed a hold of his shoulders tightly and pumped furiously against him, reaching for her orgasm with all her might, clenching all the muscles in her hips, thighs and butt with each thrust. "Draco, please… I want you!"
"Baby, let go with me," he demanded, rubbing them together powerfully. He pressed forward and clamped his teeth around her breast through her bra. The fabric was so thin that she could actually feel his tongue flick out and circle her nipple, his saliva drenching the cotton thoroughly. He nipped and bit at her, marking her there, too, and the thought of belonging to someone – to him – in this way brought her. "YES!" she screamed as she came again, thrusting one last time against him, her legs clenching him tightly, her fingernails digging into his shirt, her back arching. He groaned loudly at her reaction, grabbed her so tight that she thought she'd break in half, and then pressed his face against her breast, stifling a loud cry against her skin. His hips jerked several times and she suddenly realized that he'd just reached his own climax, too. That knowledge was exhilarating.
He held her wrapped up in his arms, his cheek pressed to her chest, trying to catch his breath afterwards. Her own hands came around his neck to finger through his silken hair as she struggled to regain composure as well. "Thank… you," she whispered again, and placed a small kiss on his temple.
He weakly laughed against her and pulled away just enough to look up at her through half-lidded, sleepy eyes. "No, thank you. That's the first time I've ever come like that."
Several minutes later, and after using his wand to clean himself up, Malfoy lay back on the couch with her, spooning with her once more. He slipped one leg through hers this time and snuggled his head into the crook of her neck, and within minutes, he was out for the count. Tired, she laid her cheek against his arm, which tightened automatically around her again, and drifted off contentedly in Draco's embrace.
She woke up at forty minutes past eight in the morning, according to the Sandkeeper on the wall and Hermione found that she was alone on the couch. The duvet from her bed was laid over her and a pillow was beneath her head, however. Apparently, she'd sexed herself into utter exhaustion, because she had absolutely no memory of Draco arranging for her comfort before leaving, or of his actual departure.
Smiling at the memories of last night and this morning, Hermione stretched and got up to face the day. She lingered under the shower a little too long, letting the warm water cascade over her body (she was a bit sore between her legs where she'd rubbed against Draco too hard, and extremely tender – but glowingly happy from it - on her neck and breast where he'd bit her), and reluctantly got out, dried off and dressed for the day, spraying her favorite perfume on her wrists and neck and feeling a completely new woman.
CHAPTER EIGHT: A WRINKLE IN TIME
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Thursday, November 6, 1997
Draco was whistling cheerfully when he passed through the portal into his House Common Room at twenty past eight on Thursday morning, having just left Granger still pleasantly knackered on her couch ten minutes earlier. How he could feel so happy without having actually shagged the girl simply amazed him. That he could be this patient, given his track record, further astounded. Prior to Granger, he'd have had a girl in ten different positions within a week of "dating."
If he and Hermione kept up doing what they'd just done that morning, though, he wasn't sure he wouldn't fall back into his old patterns.
As he made his way up to his dorm, he spied Pansy Parkinson quietly shutting the door to the room he shared with Zabini, Vaisey and Harper. "Morning, Drake," she addressed him quietly and smiled, the devilish look on her face loudly proclaiming that she knew he hadn't been to his own bed that night. "Back from the girlfriend's?"
He grinned, determined not to let his oldest childhood friend ruin his mood. "Maybe," he teased and gave her a light kiss on the cheek in greeting. "And how are you and Blaise? Just getting out of his bed, I see."
She flung her long, dark, straight hair back over her shoulder and smiled contentedly. "That one certainly knows how to kiss, Drake. Why didn't you tell me that before?"
Draco hushed his laughter and played along. "Because Zabini doesn't like me talking about his special lip technique. He's afraid of patent infringement."
Pansy made an "Ah!" enlightened face, and then busted into giggles. She went all serious within seconds, however, watching him with those hawk eyes of her, switching emotions quickly to throw him off, per her style. "So, you really like the girl this time, huh?"
Draco blinked, feigning nonchalance. Friend or no, Pansy was still a Slytherin, and she wasn't called the Queen of Backbite for nothing. He shrugged. "Yeah, Granger's okay. Apparently, she's never gotten a proper snog before, much less a shag, so I did her a favor and taught her how to kiss." He rubbed his hands together in faux anticipation. "We're still warming up for the fun to come, though."
Pansy's eyebrow raised in surprise, a hard glint entering her eyes. "Then she's a virgin? And you still haven't bedded her yet? My, oh, my… will the wonders never cease."
Aside from their one sexual experiment during Fourth Year, right after the Yule Ball, Draco and Pansy had remained nothing more than friends over the years. Despite that, he sensed a little jealousy behind her last comment – a first from her – and he knew it was time to diffuse her strange envy with a little well-placed flattery. "You were still my first, Pans." He gave her his most melting smile. "No one else can say that."
Her frost thawed instantly, replaced with a boastful, triumphant smirk. "I know, Drake. I remember."
Mission accomplished – which was to keep Pansy from thinking Hermione was everyone's broom handle – he started past his ex-. "Time to get moving," he excused himself, reaching for the door handle. "Long day today. See you later in Snape's class."
"See you," Pansy hailed back and he entered his room and closed the door behind him.
Blaise was at his dresser, pulling out his clothes for the day, his finely muscled, ebony skin glistening with drying sweat. The deep nail gouges on his arms and back told of what must have been a marathon session with Pansy this morning. Draco was thankful he'd been absent for all of it; Pansy was loud and extremely verbally explicit during sex, and she could almost be heard through a Muffliato spell, or so the rumors said. Looking around, he noted his other two roommates were not present, and neither of their beds looked slept in either. Man, it seemed everyone was out for a good time last night.
"Morning," he greeted Zabini with a grin. "Nice artwork."
Blaise chuckled darkly. "What can I say? I like Pans' version of 'House spirit.'" His friend threw a pair of Muggle sweats on over his dark green boxers and collected his shower gear. "You got your own set of war wounds yet?"
Draco shook his head. "Nope. Working on it, though."
Zabini stopped dead in his tracks, clearly thunderstruck. "You mean to tell me that you haven't fucked Hermione Granger yet? You said you'd been together for over a week now."
Draco gathered up his school books for the day and tossed them into his bag, thinking of a good enough answer to get out of it this time without looking pussy whipped or ruining his new girlfriend's reputation. Blaise was as good as Pansy for destroying people by word of mouth, and he knew that one wrong hint could backfire for both of them. "She's not a slag, man. She's the goody-good spod we all thought she was. I don't want to scare her off. It'll make the sex bad."
"By my fucking rod, she really is Miss Iron Knickers!" Blaise seemed astounded. He whistled in astonishment. "Man, I'd have thought that Mudblood's pussy was well used by Potter by now. Shit, talk about the world's biggest cock tease!"
A cold, rancorous fury instantaneously wound its way up Draco's spine into the back of his head, taking him over. Although his vision wavered red and the need for him to commit violence was never as strong as at that exact moment, it was with a deadly calm that he turned to his friend and spoke in an implacable, succinct voice that sounded to his own ears as if his father were speaking the words instead. "If you talk bad about Granger again, Blaise, I'll rip your balls off and feed them to your familiar. Then I'll mail what's left to your Mudblood father. We clear?"
Knowing intimately about Draco's actions during the war and understanding that he was imminently in real, serious danger, Blaise physically turned grey and backed away, terrified by the icy vehemence Draco knew was reflected in his eyes. "S-sorry, guy," he stammered, "yeah, clear," and quickly headed for the door, carefully leaving a wide berth between the two of them. Zabini left without a backwards glance, his footsteps hurrying away.
As soon as the wooden panel was shut and Draco was all alone in the silence of his room, he started shaking all over. He grit his teeth against the familiar anger, forcing himself to calm by thinking of the same pleasant memory he'd used for summoning his Patronus last night: riding his broom at lightning fast pace over the Quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, even the freedom and joy he normally felt from the memory of such activities did nothing to calm the rage boiling under his breast.
Shit, he'd only felt this level of temper one other time…
"Where's your mum, boy? When I find her, I'm gonna hold her down and skull fuck her."
The memory of Rodolphus Lestrange's threat still echoed around in Draco's head like a pinball put into play against his unbumpered emotions. The anger in his soul multiplied just thinking about that day now...
There hadn't been enough left of his uncle to bury when Snape, Professor Dumbledore, Teddy and Blaise had arrived on the scene minutes after Draco's confrontation with Rodolphus in the graveyard outside the Riddle ancestral home. What pieces they had found of the former Death Eater were a few crisped digits with charred bone peeking out, tattered remnants of black wizard robes, and a single popped hazel-colored eyeball lying in the dirt. The smell of roasted meat choked and sickened the air, and coagulated blood coated everything within a two meter radius, including Draco's face, hair, hands and clothes. He remembered scraping some off his cheek and looking at it, dazed, the gelatinous, red-black fluid thick and gooey on his fingers. He'd had no idea that blood could do that.
It had been the only time Draco had ever killed, and the numerous times he'd thought on it, he'd always come to realize that he'd had no choice. Lestrange was a sick fuck who had been obsessed with Narcissa Malfoy – much to Aunt Bella's resentment – and Draco knew the man had meant to be true to his word. If Draco had fallen in that battle, his uncle would have hunted his mother down, and with Lucius still in Azkaban, she'd have had no one to protect her from the man's perverted depravity.
Still, he had to admit his motives for casting a killing spell weren't based entirely upon rationality and a need to shield the innocent; Draco had been blinded by anger and ill with fear for his mum as he'd faced off against the more powerful wizard, and bluntly, he'd wanted Lestrange dead after his crude pronouncement. So, he'd spoken the words to the first powerful, Dark spell that popped into his head without thought… And then he'd stood by helpless as the curse did its awful damage. Later, Draco had escaped Azkaban's reach only through the clever intervention of Snape and the Headmaster, who had gone to bat for him against the Wizengamot by using their influence as infamous war heroes (along with Potter, whom they coerced into helping them) in a series of well-worded front-page articles in The Daily Prophet to turn the tide of popular thought in Draco's favor, painting him as a dark champion, who had put himself at great risk by spying on the Dark Lord, despite his youth and inexperience. It had been enough to keep him out of prison and away from a Dementor's kiss. He'd been placed on temporary probation instead, with the agreement that he would finish out his final year at Hogwarts as a model student, under the watchful gaze of Dumbledore.
Draco had been extremely lucky in dodging the axe man that time, and was sure that once had been his limit for narrow escapes as far as the universe was concerned.
Lamentably, the desire for an almost berserker madness was known to run rampant throughout the wizarding Pureblood family lines, and none was purer than the Malfoys and Blacks, from whom Draco descended. The sins of his fathers had been passed down to him, so that in very rare times like now, he had to fight to keep himself from giving into the temptation of using Dark Magic to harm another.
Gods above, was he turning into his ghoulish uncle and aunt?
The desire to run, to escape his own skin overtook him fiercely. He needed to get out. The very walls around him seemed suffocating. He wanted…
Hermione.
The memory of her teasing face, her gentle laughter, and her butterfly touch inflamed his senses. He suddenly needed to hold her, to have her hold him. It was this compelling drive that jump started his body into action. Hastily making his way back towards her room, he ignored everyone else around him, including Professor Snape, who he passed swiftly in the Entrance Hall and who watched him with concern as he rushed past on his long legs towards the fifth floor corridor, still dressed in last night's clothes.
Draco reached her just as Hermione was about to lock her room up with her wand to go down to breakfast.
"Granger…" he called to her in a growl, and she turned just in time to have her boyfriend shove her back into her door roughly and kiss her like his life depended upon it. He opened her door with a shove, pulled her inside with him, slammed the access to her room shut, and backed her to the bed, where he pushed her down and ravished her mouth relentlessly. He whimpered slightly as he took her lips brutally with blistering pulls. His tongue darted out and tangled with hers with an intensity he hadn't shown before. It was as if he were trying to crawl into her, to bury himself in her fully.
Something was very wrong.
She pushed against him with enough force to break them apart and stared up at him, concerned. His eyes were closed, his breathing harsh, his jaw clenched. She touched his cheek gently with her finger tips and he leaned into her palm, his brows drawn down with what almost seemed pain. "Draco, look at me," she whispered. Hesitantly, he opened his wounded eyes. "What's wrong," she coaxed gently and kissed him lightly, chastely. "Tell me."
One of his hands was twined in her hair, while the other tentatively reached out and touched her face. He looked at her as if she was his only lifeline to the world, but he was afraid she wasn't real. "I needed to see you," he told her, his voice rasped with emotion. "You… make me feel right again."
She blinked, unsure what he was talking about exactly, but knowing instinctively that he needed comfort at that moment. Running her right hand through his hair, she pampered him with soothing touches until his breathing was even once more. "I'm here for you, whatever it is," she told him sincerely. "Can you tell me?"
He suddenly looked very ashamed, and slid his eyes to the side. "I… I killed someone, Granger," he admitted and Hermione felt a cold pit open up in her stomach. "In the war. Potter, Dumbledore, Snape, they knew, and they kept it out of the papers. But it happened. I murdered a man - my own uncle." He looked angry and bitter all of the sudden when he swung his gaze back to hers. "Bet that changes everything now, doesn't it?"
Hermione didn't know what to say. Harry knew? Why hadn't he ever said anything to her? Her mind was awhirl with emotions.
Seeing her hesitation, Draco apparently took her silence for agreement to his last statement and with a resentful sigh, he tried to move away from her. Instinctively, Hermione tightened her arms around him, lifted her legs and pinned him in place by squeezing his hips between her thighs and yanking his torso downward towards her at the same moment. "No, not until we talk," she asserted, holding onto his arms despite his second and third attempts to dislodge her. "You came to me, Malfoy, remember? So, stop pushing away!"
He stilled, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell is there to talk about? I killed someone. I took a life, Hermione. And I used an Unmentionable to do it, too."
Her brows furrowed over. "What's that? Some kind of curse?"
He sneered in distaste. "The Unmentionables were seven of the worst curses ever invented. The Ministry buried them after the Inquisition ended four hundred years ago because they were so horrible. They make the three Unforgivables look like child's play." He leaned his face down until they were practically nose-to-nose, his eyes hard, and his voice succinct as he laid out the truth. "I cursed my uncle to spontaneously combust with one of them. I liquefied his organs in his body, and I boiled the blood in his veins until his head popped. His brains splattered everywhere. It took at least a minute for him to die. And he screamed the whole time, even while his head split open like an overripe melon." He paused to give time for his words to sink in. "You sure you want me touching you now, Granger?"
Hermione was repulsed by the visual Draco had presented.
He'd taken a life willfully, viciously.
But then again, she almost had as well…
The war had been quick, relatively speaking, but it had not been painless for her, either. She'd seen death face-to-face the afternoon they'd gone after Voldemort: Hagrid, Mad Eye Moody, Aberforth Dumbledore, Dobby and three Aurors she never knew had all been buried that evening. And she'd almost lost all three of her best friends. But the memory that haunted her the most was how she'd hexed the Death Eater, Walden Macnair, laying the man low with an overly exuberant and violent Evert Statum that had smashed his head with such force against the wall that it had left him in a coma for eighteen days. During that time, she'd agonized over the idea that she might have damaged the man permanently or that he may never wake up again and it would be all her fault. And yet, as she replayed those moments in her head continually, Hermione realized that even if she could go back and change things, she wouldn't. Macnair's incapacitation had saved Ron from being Avada'd by the man, who's murderous curse had gone awry at the very last second when she'd hit him with her own hex.
She could have killed Macnair accidentally... and she knew deep in her heart, if she'd had a do-over of that day, she would have done it all the same again if it meant saving one of her best friends.
So, despite Draco's confession, she couldn't really be repulsed by what he had done, or she'd be a big, fat hypocrite. And truthfully, all she could really think about now was how gently Malfoy had held her as she slept with him on the couch, how he'd touched her face with reverence that first night he'd come to her, how he'd kissed her and made her feel alive and special. She didn't see him as the boy he'd been prior to this term. She saw him as the man she now held in her arms... And she was sure there had been a reason for his use of a curse that terrible. Just as she'd had a reason for her mistake, too.
Hermione locked eyes with Malfoy as she pressed a kiss to his lips. She didn't shutter her lids, but looked up at him intently even as her mouth slanted over his and as she let her tongue slide along the slit of his lips, willing him to open up for her. He remained unresponsive, watching her dubiously. "I don't think any differently of you," she explained in a low, husky voice, running her fingertips over his cheeks softly. "I did things in the war I wasn't proud of either; things that really hurt others. But I already told you: I trust you, Draco. That hasn't gone away because you told me a terrible secret from your past." She nuzzled her nose against his. "So, as far as I'm concerned, no, nothing's changed between us, and yes, I still want you touching me."
For a moment, he looked undecided, but when her tongue dipped up again, trying to wriggle through his tightly closed mouth, he groaned and gave in. Dropping his lips onto hers, they spent the next half hour kissing away his acrimonious self-hatred, tenderly giving and taking from each other.
She heard the bell toll the eleven o'clock hour, and ignored it. She really had nowhere to be until one anyway. Besides, she liked what they were doing; her knickers were wet, and her heart was already pounding in anticipation. She began rubbing her pelvis up against Draco's. He responded with a moan and pressed back against her. She could feel his hard length through his pants, and wanted more. "I want to rub against you without your pants on. Skin on skin." He automatically shook his head, as she knew he would, but she overrode him. "There's too much fabric in the way for me to feel you like I want to. I… need this."
He dropped his forehead onto hers, panting hard. "Shit… Granger, I'm not sure. I don't know if I can keep myself from trying to get inside of you. I don't trust myself right now."
Hermione looked at him sincerely, needing to feel as much of him as possible. "Please, Draco."
He took a deep breath and let it out between clenched teeth, contemplating for more than a minute. "Okay," he finally agreed. "Okay, baby." He reached for his belt and undid it, and she helped him tug his pants and boxers down. She couldn't see what he looked like naked with his shirt in the way, but she definitely felt when he pulled her panties off, and then laid his hot, hard, silken length directly between her wet folds. He was long and heavy.
"Fuck," he whispered as he began slowly rubbing up and down, groaning at the feel.
Hermione gripped his biceps hard and ground her pelvis against him as he mounted her, feeling the heat and steel of his shaft clipping her clit with each stroke, causing electricity to shoot up her spine. Her body was on fire with an ache in her womb that called for real completion. "You feel so good. Don't stop, Draco. Merlin, please don't stop!"
Draco's breathing was loud in the room, to mingle with her moans, and his face took on an almost pained expression again as he increased the pace. "Christ, Granger… what are you doing to me? I want… fuck! I want you." He shoved his upper body off of hers with a powerful push-up, and locked their pelvises together with a hard friction, thrusting through her swollen, drenched lower lips frantically now. He stared down at her with an intensity that burned, his face transposed by a desperate need for fulfillment.
Maybe, she thought, caught up in the overwhelming feelings, it would be okay if they did "it" today…
Without his consent or knowledge, she tilted her hips up just as he pulled back and the end of his penis slid down to her opening, and Draco entered her a fraction of a centimeter. He froze automatically, cutting though the fevered haze of pleasure to make sense of what she'd purposefully just done. His whole body literally thrummed against hers as he waited, poised on the brink, his eyes and mouth opened in astonishment. Hermione stared back at him, her heart slamming in her throat, willing him to understand her silent request to not stop. A shared understanding passed between them in those few seconds and Draco swallowed hard, then nodded once, accepting the responsibility she'd offered up freely. This was it, then - the moment Hermione was going to lose her virginity. She tried to quell the terror that gripped her senses, swallowing back her trepidation, reminding herself that everything would be okay; that her boyfriend would make this good for her.
She reached for his hips, running her fingers under his shirt and up his sides, wanting to touch him as much as possible. They were both of them panting and gasping as he pushed in a bit more, burying his crown into her moist flesh, and then holding firm for a few more seconds. She felt a tight suction as he gently, slowly began rocking the head of his shaft in and out of her with small jerks of his hips, opening her up bit by bit. It stung; the unfamiliar ache of being stretched out at her entrance sharp, and Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering. He was uncomfortably larger than she'd expected – and he wasn't even all the way in, just the tip of him! She lay perfectly still, letting him take the lead, her body unconsciously tensing up in expectation of the pain to come as he moved a little deeper into her canal. Draco's eyelids slid shut in something akin to ecstasy-laden pain, and she felt him tense up, preparing to plunge forward to finally break through her hymen. A few more seconds and it would be done…
Two sharp raps on her door suddenly punctuated the stillness, interrupting the moment and arresting both of their movements entirely. Hermione slid her eyes to the area of disturbance, but after twenty seconds, the knocks did not repeat and there did not appear to be any sounds coming from the other side of the solid oak panel. Perhaps whomever it had been had assumed she was gone for the morning to classes and had left?
The TimeTurner around her neck – which she had taken to only wearing outside her room, and which she had forgotten to remove when Draco had swooped down on her without warning - unexpectedly tingled against her skin. She recognized that sensation from Third Year when she'd rescued Sirius Black with Harry, and again earlier this year on the night Teddy had tried to commit suicide. Had she just sent herself another message from the future to stop what she was doing? Her doubt hung up her brain for several seconds.
Maybe this wasn't the right time for them to try this after all...
She glanced back up to Draco and was a little surprised to see that he seemed to be relieved by the disruption. "We shouldn't do this now," he explained, shaking all over with repressed sexual tension. "There's more for you to learn still. This… you're not ready yet." With that, he slowly pulled out of her and laid his big body across hers, bracing himself on his forearms and elbows, careful to keep his lower region tilted so he wasn't in the exact middle of her thighs anymore, removing them both from further temptation. He kissed her tenderly.
Although Hermione was a tad disappointed, as logical, rationalized thinking replaced libido-fogged incoherency, she realized that Draco was absolutely right. The fact that she'd been terrified in the moment of their coupling was her "big neon sign in the sky," in Muggle speak, as she knew that if it had been right, there should have been no hesitation or fear on her part. She definitely wasn't ready for this stage in their relationship yet. Thank goodness they hadn't culminated the act. Nodding against his neck in understanding and agreement, she swallowed back a mixture of shame, embarrassment and ineptness. "I'm sorry for pushing this."
He kissed her cheek and pulled back, glancing at her, that strange vulnerability back in his eyes. "It's my fault, Granger. I'm the one with the experience. I should have had better control." He petted her face. "That you were willing to… even knowing what you do about me… that was enough." He placed kisses all along her jaw and edge of her mouth, and then reluctantly pulled back. "We should get dressed now."
He moved off of her and readjusted his clothes as she rolled to her feet and looked for her knickers on the floor, slipping them back up her legs. She righted her uniform jumper and skirt and smoothed down her hair, then realized her curls were extremely mussed from their overly zealous snog session. Turning to the bathroom (as she moved, she cringed from the minor ache in between her legs), she did her best to fix the mess, then gave up with a sigh and began braiding the mass of hair instead.
As she was finishing the long plait, Draco came in behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. He stared at her hotly in the mirror, locking eyes with her. "When it's time, though, I'm going to fuck you so good, Hermione, that you're going to scream my name," he promised darkly while rubbing his lips against her cheek and sliding his hands up and down her sides. In her chest, Hermione's blood pumped furiously in response to his words and touch. It roared into her ears, making her almost dizzy from the renewed rush. Malfoy continued to hold her gaze as he ran his mouth over her neck and jaw, punctuating his vow with every kiss and touch. When he approached her ear, he whispered one last pledge. "I'm going to make sure that you're never going to forget me, Granger."
No, I won't forget you, Draco, she thought a little sadly. Because even when this is over in a few weeks, I'll still love you.
Teddy took his customary seat in the library after dinner that night, waiting for Granger to show up, per her regular schedule. At six-fifteen, she appeared and sat in the empty chair next to him. "Hi," she greeted with that smile he adored.
"Hey," he welcomed her, pretending not to be affected by her nearness, even though his heart had accelerated slightly. The scent of her perfume wafted on the air and drove him wild with want, and he had to mentally coerce his lower body into calming itself. "What chapter are you on now?" he asked, trying to distract, holding up his Advanced Charms book.
"Twenty-one," she admitted. "I've finally overtaken you."
Teddy shook his head. "Think again, golden girl." He threw the book down on his backpack and pretended to wash his hands of it.
Hermione could have caught flies with the expression on her face. Her jaw was, literally, unhinged and her eyes incredulous. "Do not tell me you finished the whole book. There are thirty chapters!"
Teddy tilted his head to the side with a teasing smirk. "Okay, I won't tell you that, then." His grin widened. "Even if it's true."
Granger huffed for a few minutes. "Well… I mean… but really… you couldn't have…" She finally clamped her lips together in irritation. "Maybe you finished the reading portion, but there's no way you could have practiced all those charms in a week."
Rising to the challenge, Teddy took an apple out of his bag (he'd been saving it for a late night snack during studying, but it would do for this demonstration), whipped out his wand. "Putredo Apple." The fruit began rotting instantly and within seconds, was nothing more than a mushy pile of goo on the desk. He then banished the liquefied apple with another flick of his wand, looked over at Hermione and grinned wickedly. "I could also, if you want, demonstrate the burning itch or coughing hex for you, but you'd have to volunteer for the role of test dummy."
She looked at him in part awe, part wry amusement. "I can't believe it! You're absolutely amazing! You must have been studying until the wee hours to get to the end of the book. No wonder you've looked so hackney'd lately." She turned concerned eyes to him. "This bet, Teddy… please don't let it drive you into burning your candle at both ends, though. If it comes to that, I'll have to back out."
Shit. He couldn't let her do that – not if he wanted his final wish to come true. He shook his head, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry, Granger, I'm okay. I went and saw Pomfrey today and she gave me a restorative. I'll be fine. I'm not going to kill myself trying to beat you out of top slot."
No, I'm not going to kill myself at all. The illness is taking care of that all on its own.
She studied him for a moment, apparently trying to reassure herself that he wasn't being duplicitous in the way of his House motto, and then she nodded in acceptance of his promise. "Okay, then." She opened her Charms book and started reading. "Looks like I have a lot of catch-up to do."
They spent the rest of the evening together quietly reading. Occasionally, Teddy would glance over at his silent study partner and catch her twirling a stray curl through one of her fingers, or biting her lip as she concentrated on absorbing the contents of her book. Somewhere around the nine o'clock hour, she even gasped and smiled. "But that's so simple!" she muttered, and whipped out her wand, waved it at her satchel and spoke the word for a permanent color change charm. "Livedo." Her grey bag instantly changed to jewel-tone blue. "Nigredo," she spoke the charm again and it turned black. "Albedo," and it was brillantly white. "Rubedo" finalized the carryall into a scarlet hue. She smiled in satisfaction and Teddy put his own book down to clap his hands together in congratulations.
"Nice. You've accessorized your pack with your House color, now," he joked and Hermione blushed under his praise. "And your cheeks, too," he slyly threw out with a snicker.
She tapped her wand in his direction and cleared her throat curtly. "Careful, Nott. I'm already tempted to try out that laziness hex on you so I can catch up. A little sloth on your impertinent fanny might do us both some good."
He leaned forward in his chair and grabbed the tip of her wooden baton between his index finger and thumb, giving her a wicked grin. It was a very intimate and bold move to touch another practitioner's wand, but Teddy was feeling rather frisky and carefree at the moment. "If you're going to hex me with one of the seven deadly sins, Granger, at least make it a… titillating… one."
She blushed brighter and ducked her head, and Teddy laughed, knowing he'd finally gotten her attention at long last.
Author's Notes:
- U. Triffidus is, of course, not a real plant; I made it up. However, its name and attributes are an homage to a fellow countryman – the British sci-fi author, John Wyndham, who wrote "Day of the Triffids," a frightening novel about man-eating plants. Recommended if you're into the genre!
- Draco is never indicated in the books as being able to cast a Patronus; I made it up for this fanfic. I picked the eagle for him because the animal represents pride, strength, vision, independence and nobility. According to one chart on an eagle's traits: "The eagle is a noble hunter. An aggressive bird, the eagle knows what it wants and takes it. A person with the personality traits of an eagle is bold and dominant. An eagle is highly analytical and decisive. He or she can be stubborn and insensitive to others' needs. An eagle tends to be self-centered and narrow-minded. An eagle can sometimes come across as being devoid of emotion." It seems to fit him, I thought. On the other side, Hermione is an otter (according to J.K.R. canon – I didn't make that up). Personally, I don't think this fits her at all, though, as an otter is typified as: "Just so full of fun and having fun ideas. Not liking the boring task of working, a person possessing the otter trait is one who much prefers the fishing trips, shopping trips, and just anything in general that doesn't pertain to work. Now the otter is not necessarily lazy, it's just that work is not this person's strong suit. These types of people tend to be more spontaneous with a care free attitude. They do tend to start projects that are often left uncompleted so they can start another one that sounds so much better than the first. They are not usually very good at saving money or spending it wisely. There is never a "rainy day" because there is always something fun out there to occupy them." I think Hermione is more a beaver personality, myself ("The beaver and anyone who possess the traits of the beaver are very dedicated to their work. They are often found to be more of a perfectionist with a lot of attention to details. They want to know why you do this, how do you do this, and what are the results. They are a more "fact based" person. The more facts the better. They enjoy working and sometimes are refered to as the "workaholic" and are almost total opposites to the otters. They tend to get things done and they are the ones who ask directions if they get lost. They are also known as the ones who read the intructions and have very few "spare" parts left over at christmas time. They also tend to have some cash stashed away for the "rainy day"). J.K.R. admitted she picked the otter for Hermione because she sees the character as herself, and Rowling likes otters.
- According to Harry Potter Wiki: "The Antipodean Opaleye is a breed of Dragon native to New Zealand, although it has been known to migrate to Australia in search of territory. It resides in valleys, which is unusual as dragons typically reside on mountains. It is generally considered one of the most beautiful dragons with pearly scales that line its body, and glittering multi-coloured eyes that have no pupils. The Opaleye's eggs are pale grey and been known to be mistaken by Muggles as fossils. Its flame is vivid red, and the Opaleye is not particulary aggressive, rarely killing unless it is hungry. Its prey of choice is sheep, but it has been known to attack larger animals. In the 1970s, several kangaroo killings were thought to have been caused by a male Opaleye that had been ousted from its territory by a dominant female."
- The seven "Unmentionable Curses" are something I made up for this fanfic and for my other story, "To Begin Again." I envisioned the "Unmentionables" as being a series of spells utilized by the Inquisition in Europe (specifically, the Pureblood wizards hiding amongst the Church's Inquisition's numbers to secretly cull Muggle-borns and Halfbloods). In this made-up history, the Ministry of Magic banned all references to the "Unmentionables" and burned all books that contained any information on them in the 1700's, and as a result, these nasty spells have been forgotten by the wizarding community over time. The Malfoy family's extensive library, however, managed to have a single copy of a book that recorded these spells (because Brutus Malfoy, an ancestor at the tail end of the Inquisition days, secreted this book away and hid it well). Draco obviously found the book (and made sure Voldemort did not) and used spell #6 on his uncle. The spells are:
1. Organum Ructus ("Organ Rot") – Rots a person's internal organs slowly over days. The cure is to take a number of very painful, rare potions for over a year before the tissues of the organs are stable enough to regenerate on their own. Closely related to Dolohov's Curse from J.K.R.'s books.
2. Somniculouse ("Sleep") – Causes a person to be in a permanent coma until their body starves or gives out due to age. No cure.
3. Desino ("Stop/Desist") – Causes a person to freeze in place until they suffocate and die. Death within minutes. Only Finite Incantatum can free the person. I expounded on Petrificus Totalus for this one.
4. AtteroVeneficus ("Weaken/Impair Wizard/Witch") – Permanently diminishes a person's magical talent so that they become a Squib within minutes. No cure.
5. Saecula Saeculorum ("Age Forever") – Causes a person to age forward through all the stages of their physical life within hours, until at last they die of old age. Causes intense pain throughout joints, bones, and internal organs as a result. No cure.
6. Fiamma Morte ("Death Flame") – Causes a person to spontaneously combust. Organs liquefy, blood boils in veins, pressure builds up in head until it bursts. Takes approximately a minute to die once cast. No cure.
7. Acqua Morte ("Death Water") – Changes all of the blood in the body instantly into ice water. Paralyzes the heart, and creates intense, sharp needle-like pain in the brain and throughout all of a person's nerve endings. Takes approximately thirty seconds to die once case. No cure.