(Hermione)

Hermione's breath spiralled out of her nostrils and mouth in smoky tendrils, condensing as it hit the Scottish winter air; it hung about her head in small clouds before swirling off into nothingness, dancing through the heavens along with the gusts of wind that hurtled over the top of the astronomy tower. The same brisk draft snapped at her cheeks and nose, turning them a rosy red. Hermione considered leaving, but the silence she so craved could not be found anywhere else in the castle. She brought a gloved hand up to her face and shivered at the cold that radiated from it; to try and warm up a little she pulled her gold and red scarf up over her nose and brought her wand out from the depths of her cloak, muttering 'Inflomora!' as she did so. Small flames burst forth from the tip of the wand, flickering and crackling in front of her face. She breathed a sigh of relief as warmth crept back into her bones. Finally content that none of her body parts would succumb to frostbite, she lent against the brass railing on the tower's battlements and allowed her eyes to wander, drinking in the beautiful scenery below her.

The crisp morning seemed to magnify the beauty of the loch and mountains that surrounded Hogwarts, and rendered them truly breathtaking. So clear and picturesque was the view that it was almost surreal; in Hermione's mind, things like that simply did not exist. The sky was overcast, but the grey loch sparkled as light refracted off of it, and shimmered as if it were glass. Some sort of giant bird of prey skimmed the water as Hermione looked on, seeking out its breakfast. It caught something and crying in triumph glided back to its nest in the mountains, which were bleak, although they did have a kind of majesty to them that was rarely found in anything crafted by wizards. Acres upon acres of noble fir trees that covered them swayed en masse, clinging to the ground for dear life as Mother Nature tried to tear their roots from the soil. In the more barren, rocky areas Hermione could make out the fuzzy white specks of what could only be sheep. They huddled together for warmth, like the trees, and she could imagine them grazing in tight-knit little clusters, trying to keep their energy levels up in order to survive the winter.

The panoramic views – and of course, the hallowed peace and quiet – were why Hermione had made a habit of visiting the astronomy tower before breakfast on a Saturday and Sunday morning. It was lovely to get away from the strenuous hustle and bustle of school life, even if only for an hour, two at the most, and the cold air helped to clear her head after a long. It was all too easy for her to get lost in the noise the trees made when the wind whistled through them, or perhaps in scanning the loch for signs of the giant squid, who made her chuckle – after all her time in the wizarding world, she still found it mind boggling that a tropical creature like a squid could be found in somewhere so chilly and remote as the Scottish Highlands.

Even Draco couldn't wriggle his way into her thoughts when she was absorbed by such time-filling tasks.

Draco.

The intense expression on his face in the moonlight caused a shiver to zoom down Hermione's spine as the mental picture took over her thoughts. Her face, pallid from the cold, buzzed in the places he had touched, and colour and heat rose to her cheeks as she reminisced. Her breathing quickened and her stomach fluttered and flipped as the scene replayed itself in her head, and feeling a little woozy, she gripped the brass rail she had been leaning on moments before. The recollection hurtled like a steam train, hulking and unstoppable, towards the point where he had placed his hands, firm and controlling, on her shaking shoulders, and looked at her, eyes flashing like jewels… Sweeter than Heaven and far darker than Hell… She closed her eyes and let out a hitched little gasp - so realistic was the memory that she could almost feel his fingers slide, ever so slowly, onto her shoulder again, sense his hand gripping her cloak – too realistic, far too realistic… It could not possibly be a memory – Hermione grew anxious, her heart pounded franticly in her heaving chest, threatening to burst out. She spun around, eyes still shut, and her thick cloak swirled in time with her. Could it be Harry? She had told only he where she would be, in case he needed to see her–

*

(Draco)

Hermione twirled around; finally realizing his hand was on her shoulder. She looked as if she was in some kind of trance - her eyes were closed, their long blonde lashes splayed like a fan across her cheeks. Her thick hair, more curly now than bushy, whipped across her face, and caught the light, revealing a spectrum of blondes, browns ranging from mahogany to beech, and even a streak or two of red here and there. Her Gryffindor scarf dropped from above her nose down to her chin, revealing pink cheeks and lips that were red and buffered by the wind. Draco had to admit that although she had many shortcomings, Granger did look extraordinarily beautiful with that dazed and confused look on her face. It was almost angelic; an expression that one would only expect to see in a painting from a time almost forgotten. His body began to respond accordingly.

Now, Draco, don't get carried away. Remember why you are here. His father's voice snapped inside his head, and brought him back down to Earth with a crash.

Her eyes opened, and her face took on a shocked, confused sort of look. At a stretch, he could have said she was worried.

Yes, that's right. She should be. The same voice resonated inside his head, chuckling.

Taking advantage of her unhinged state, Draco's free hand slipped expertly to her waist and slowly, in his most sensual manner, he bent down to her level and turned his head so his mouth was next to her ear. He let out a deliberate breath. It tickled her neck and jaw line, and he chuckled slowly with mirth as the hairs at the nape of her pretty little neck stood on end. He whispered in her ear, his words sweetened by the honey toast he had eaten at breakfast.

'Hello, Hermione.'

She gasped, the noise audible to him only, and opened her eyes cautiously.

'D-Draco? How did you know I was here? Why are you here, for that matter?' Hermione pulled herself together using that damnable Gryffindor courage. Her tone was steady.

This one's fierce. Any other girl would have dropped like a fly at that… Or perhaps you're losing your touch…

Draco laughed spitefully at the voice in his head.

'Oh, I don't know… The famous Malfoy intuition, maybe?' He smirked at her, and looked down into her questioning eyes. She touched her ear subconsciously, and looked away, gulping.

That's it.

'No, actually, Granger. In all seriousness, I come here a lot… good place to think... good place to do a lot of things…'

Catching the obvious innuendo, Hermione blushed furiously.

Oh, come on. You can do better than that.

Angered by the voice's belittling tone and intent on proving his worth, Draco grabbed Hermione's face – perhaps a little too roughly, he mused – and crushed it to his. Her mouth formed a comical little O, the perfect pout, and he laughed at the irony as he kissed her hungrily, his breath spilling into her open mouth. She was unresponsive at first, stunned by the sudden contact, but she soon joined in as he became more insistent, surprisingly wanton.

He cocked an eyebrow, not expecting such a response. She pressed closer to him and brought her arms up around his neck as he took a hold of a lock of her hair, twisting it between his fingers with more force than was entirely necessary. She didn't pull away and he took that as a sign to continue. Draco grabbed her neck, suddenly full of unwarranted anger, and dug his nails down into the tender skin. Hermione yelped, but carried on kissing him, moving her little lips against his, mistaking his anger for unbridled passion. He felt the tip of her warm tongue against his lips and before she could slip it into his mouth he bit down hard on her lower lip. She whipped her arms down from his neck and tried to push him away, her eagerness gone now he had inflicted pain upon her, but he now had a strong grip on her both of her arms, so strong in fact that his knuckles were white against his skin.

He didn't stop until he tasted the iron like tang of her blood seep onto his own lips. The bubble of anger retreated as she whimpered and begged him to stop and he released her. She looked up at him, blood on her lips and around the edges of her mouth, her lower lip split and bulging out. Tears filled her eyes as she saw his joyous expression; he couldn't help but smile when he saw the beginnings of what would be a very nasty, black bruise where one of his incisors had pierced her skin. She cracked as monstrous glee washed over his face, and rushed away from him, sobbing.

--

Sorry for the slow update, this week had been a little hectic. Writers block has been running rampant! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I should have another ready for you by the day after next. Don't be disgusted by the last couple of paragraphs, it's not all going to be so gory! No more clues for you, I'm afraid... ;)

Review if you love me? c: Or even if you don't?

And Yew Wand, I'm still awaiting that DE invitation. :o

Laura