Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything relative. It's J.K.'s. This story is written for entertainment only.
A/N: Well, here it is! A brand new chapter and during exams no less! I do hope you enjoy it. It is the longest chapter yet! Please let me know what you think of it in a review! They are endlessly important. Speaking of that, thanks so much to all the people who reviewed last time! Also, if you are not aware already, anyone who would be willing to create fan art of a scene from this story gets to view the new chapter before it posted. As always, thanks for reading!
Stolen
Chapter 17: Almost a Pleasure
The spots of red liquid on the wood and the light curtains made something inside Hermione tremble. Without warning, reason momentarily returned to her like a slap in the face. What on earth was she doing? Oh yes, she recalled calmly once again, she was going to kill Draco.
Nothing short of incensed, Draco reciprocated the attack without question or hesitation. Her shivering body was tossed across the room where it collided painfully with the bookcase. The floor, she felt, was unreasonably solid. As she looked up through her tussled hair, glimpsing his face, she noted that the spell must have been more powerful than she had anticipated as the damage was pretty harsh. Indeed, it the worst she had inflicted upon him. His face was covered dripping with bright red remnants of her temper. It dribbled down his chin and sprayed from his mouth as he spoke. "What the bloody hell-"
He did not finish his sentence before Hermione struck him yet again; this time jerking his legs out from under him, causing him to fall hard on the floor with a forceful thud. He spat blood into a puddle in the floor as he rose and shot a stinging hex at her, but she only laughed madly. This time she was not playing games. She was out for blood.
"Expeliarmus!" His eyebrows shot upwards in surprise as his wand flew from him. "Sectumsempra!" she shouted, the words spraying from her mouth like the most vile venom, his own mouth gaping, unable to block the attack. It did not take long for her to realize, however, that she had gone too far.
Draco did not shout another spell nor did he rise from his spot on the floor. His chest heaved upwards, but it was shallow and labored. The color drained from her at the first sight that something was amiss. She rose, knees visibly shaking, and proceeded cautiously towards his prone figure, dreading the very worst, or at the least an unexpected attack.
"Draco?" she ventured, in an untrusting tone. Then she heard it: the most dreadful sound that she was certain had ever met her ears. It left her both disgusted and stricken with sudden paralyzing panic. It clouded her vision and hitched her breath as what remained of her composure was torn asunder. It was a revolting sound, one that meant she had crossed a line from which there may be no recovery. His mouth full of blood, Draco made a gurgling sound in response.
Pausing only for a moment in appall, she rushed to his side, her eyes already wide, praying it was not as bad as it seemed. His face was even more insipid than hers and surrounding him in a contorted halo was his own dark, glossy blood. She trembled as she touched his face that had frozen stiff in fear or disbelief. His hands wriggled like an infant who lacked control of them. His eyes stared blindly ahead. Now she knew his stillness was not a dirty trick. Rather, he was gravely injured. His vital fluid came forth in perverse amounts, literarily flowing from the side of his mouth and choking him as it poured down his open throat.
"Draco," she gently placed her hand on the right side of his face and turned it towards her. She should not have. As he blindly faced her, his jaw fell back lopsided and partially detached, into her palm. She gasped in shock and dismay. Her hand began to tremble uncontrollably as she watched, immobile, his blood pouring over her hand like wine from an over-filled goblet. The white of his teeth and bone and the pink of his severed skin and muscle were exposed grotesquely. His cough, as the blood from the wound slipped down his wind pipe, sent a soft spray of it into her face. He gagged on it. She relinquished his jaw, allowing it to fall back so that he could breathe. She closed her eyes in horror and swallowed the burning bile that threatened the back of her throat.
Hermione's breathing grew faster and more desperate by the moment as reality began to come crashing back. His body on the other hand, remained rigid, stupefied. She had done this, she, Hermione. How? She could barely remember how it had begun. She had ravaged his beautiful face, left her fiancée bloodied and torn. Grief and repentance for her irrevocable acts overwhelmed her. She leaned forward over him, prostrate, and wept as all hate for him dissolved in her desperation for absolution of her sins, for his forgiveness she knew he would not give. She wailed pitifully over his butchered, still-breathing body, long guttural moans and sobs wracking her body. Even in the midst of such panic, logic shouted at her from nowhere demanding she elevate his head to reduce shock, place her fingers hard against the open wound, and call for help. She summoned her patronus, sending an urgent message to Snape.
"Oh gods! I'm s-so s-sorry Draco." She held his jaw with one hand applying pressure until help could come, the other smoothing his hair. "I-I d-di-didn't mean to-." She heard footsteps in the common room unexpectedly soon, and she yelled as loud as her stinging lungs would allow her.
"Up here! Up here! HELP! Please help!" she looked down at the young man in her arms. "They're coming, Draco." She consoled him. He did not seem to be present.
Unconsciously, she leaned down and kissed his forehead lightly, as she would one of her friends had they been injured. Once she did, she found herself unable to stop. There was something comforting in the intimate touch of her lips to his skin, somehow reassuring. There was still warmth there. He was still alive.
The door flew open to reveal Severus Snape as irate as she had ever witnessed her professor be. He was openly fuming. His voice boomed and hissed vehemently a he demanded of her: "What have you done?"
She turned her head in shame, unable to answer, and utterly dissolving into tears again. The tears blurred her vision as Snape's dark form approached and snatched Draco from her clutches. "No!" she protested.
"Hermione, he'll die." Snape informed her firmly, taking him from her. She remained limp on the floor, her face turned from him. A sickening dripping sound indicated that his blood was dripping onto the floor. Snape audibly winced at the sight of Draco's injuries, murmured some sort of spell she could not discern, and fled straight away, leaving her laying alone on the floor, shaking with fear and shock and sadness.
Immediately, she tore off her blood soaked clothes and went, naked, to the bathroom where she cleaned her hands and face of blood, scrubbing them raw. Picking up her clothes to throw them in the hamper, something crumpled. It was the note. She did not look at, but instead, hiding it in her desk, sh, , s, e then went straight to the hospital wing. Keeping her head bowed as she rushed down the hallways, she passed urgently whispering professors McGonagall and Sprout without a word though she felt their eyes boring into her back, perhaps with concern, she hoped. As she reached the door, it was slung open from the other side. Snape glared down at her, looming like a great bat.
"To my office. Now" His tone left no room for contestation, but there was no need for such forcefulness as she had not the energy to object. Stepping inside the Headmaster's office, the door shut behind her with a snap as Snape strode to his desk, robes billowing menacingly as ever. She stood awkwardly before him, looking very much like a child who had been caught doing something very naughty and was about to be punished. It was funny, but she almost thought she could still feel the blood on her face. It made her wonder vaguely, if she had looked, would she still see it on her hands. His sharp voice redirected her attention.
"Well, miss Granger,"
"Well sir?"
"Well, have you completely cracked or did you intend to attack mister Malfoy?"
"I'm so sorry Sir. It was accident. I just got very angry with him and-and,"
"Tried to kill him apparently, which, if you recall, was a direct violation of my very first rule for this mission I gave you.
"No!"
"Oh? You thought the spell you directed at him would have a different effect did you?"
"Well, no but-"
"Well what miss Granger?" He stood. "What excuse could you possibly have for your actions?"
"I just got so angry with him for jeopardizing everything we've done by messing around with that foolish tart Pansy Parkinson right under my nose!"
"Oh I see. You were jealous." He stated plainly.
"No, but I didn't know it would hurt him so gravely. Will he-?"
"Die? No certainly not. Madam Pomfrey has healed him completely. With a good night's rest and some blood replenishing potion he should be fine. Between the damage the two of you inflicted upon him, I'd say his in a for rough night of recuperation."
"The two of us?"
"Miss Parkinson apparently slipped him a love potion, one with painful side effects, along with providing him a good deal more celebratory alcohol than was necessary. I dare say that after tonight mister Malfoy will be a good bit more inhibited with women. Really though, Miss Granger, that spell?"
"It had never had so much power when I used it before-"
"Miss Granger! Do you mean to tell me this is not the first time you have used this spell?"
"Well, no. This was not exactly our first dispute."
"I see, and have you nearly killed him before this?"
"No! It's usually him that comes out on top."
"On top?" he raised an eyebrow.
"You know what I mean." growled Hermione, blushing furiously.
"I see." He repeated, taking his seat again. "And did you truly think that attacking him would be a good way to win his affections? Sit down Miss Granger." She sat.
"Do you know why despite all my other objections to you taking this mission I gave my approval?" She shook her head to indicate how clueless she was.
"When Dumbledore first proposed this-"
"Dumbledore?"
He ignored her revelation and continued. "I assented because I believed, as Dumbledore did, that you above anyone else would have compassion for him, that you could show him sympathy, and help bring him over to our side. The same sort of chances you would give to treacherous house elves, wild dragons, and dumb giants, is that too much to ask for him? Or, can you not let go immature anger at him for his silly school years insults?"
"Like you?" The question was intended to be scathing at his hypocrisy, but Snape gave no indication that he had heard bold remark.
"You do realize, do you not, that is, after all ,the major goal of your mission? It is not clear to you that if we win he will die unless you can salvage him from the dark side?"
At last, she understood, but it only made her feel all the worse. She voiced aloud words she never truly believed she would be forced to utter: "I failed."
"No you haven't. Not yet anyway. To be honest I expected you two to nearly kill each other long before now." She was surprised at his comment and did not hide it. "Now, perhaps you can use this accident to your advantage."
"How, sir? Draco will surely hate me all the worse now."
"Be clever, Hermione. That's your specialty, is it not? "
"Sir, you mean, I'm not being punished?"
"If only such domestic violence were rare in the castle these days. I do not want to draw attention to this. That could jeopardize the mission if the Malfoys found out, possibly jeopardize more than that."
She shuddered in response to that. He was right of course, Lucius would have killed her, plot be damned.
"Besides, I have quite a good deal more to worry about than your lover's quarrel gone sour. Those so called friends of yours made enough trouble for me last night."
"Ron? Harry?"
"Do not sound so surprised. Those two have caused more mischief in this school than their role models the Weasley twins or those infernal Mauraders. I'm the one who is surprised- that they've made it this far into this year without being sentenced to lengthy detention yet."
"If you don't mind me asking, professor, where were they when they were caught?"
Snape sat back and gave her an appraisingly look. "Where do you think they were found?"
"Perhaps they slipped into the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Order business?"
"Possibly,"
"I see. Well, to keep up appearances they will still have to be punished of course."
Hermione frowned. "I suppose." She conceded, having no place to argue with Snape at the moment.
He grunted in response. She took it as a dismissal and turned to leave. She was half way through the door when his soft tones stopped her.
"Are you aware that November first is Draco's birthday?"
"November first? That's tomorrow!" Snape gave her a nod and went back to his business. "No, I wasn't, sir. Thank you."
She left, heading not in the direction of the hospital wing, but to the dormitories. There, she rummaged in her desk for her coin purse, grabbed her traveling cloak, and rushed to the statue of the one-eyed witch. True, she had not the slightest idea what to get Draco for his birthday. There was also the chance that she would be caught of course, but it hardly mattered. She slipped into the statue and made her way down the underground secret passage toward Honeyduke's sweet shop in the neighboring town of Hogsmeade.
Although she rushed, most of the stores were closing when she emerged. After casting a dissolutionment charm on herself to avoid detection, she was able to unlock the door easily enough and slip out onto the street. Once outside, however, she was again faced with the fact that she had no idea where to go as she had not the slightest clue what he might want or need. Looking around the empty streets and lanes, dusted with layers of colorful autumn leaves, lined with pleasant shops, lights twinkling in a window here and there, she reflected that perhaps Knockturn Alley would be a more fitting place to look for a Malfoy gift. What's more, choices were further limited by the time of night she had chosen to do her last minute shopping. Just before she despaired, she spotted a very old brick building, charming nonetheless. She approached the frosted windows to read the sign. It was a jewelry store, still open.
'Why not?' she wondered before wandering in, eyeing the ringing bell and removing the charm to reveal herself. An elderly wizard, clean cut and white haired, walked slowly in the room. One foot drug slightly, and the tap of a cane accompanied it. Soon his figure became clear and Hermione made mental note of his tasteful, formal dress.
"Can I help you?" he asked gruffly.
"Yes, please sir. My name is Hermione, er, Malfoy and-"
"Malfoy, eh?"
"Yes sir. My husband is Draco Malfoy and I was looking for a birthday present for him. I thought perhaps a ring. Do you do engraving?"
"Yes ma'am."
"I was wondering, maybe a silver ring, with a flat face to engrave."
"No emerald?"
"No sir, just the silver please. He has too much Slytherin colors, I dare say."
"I see. And what do you wish to engrave?"
"Perhaps the seal and motto of the family?"
"Can you sketch it for me?"
"Er," Hermione hesitated, but caught the look the man held on her and quickly recovered. "Of course, do you have some paper?"
He handed her some fine stationary and she did her very best to recreate the seal as she remembered it and, of course, the motto she knew so well. It was not easy, she had only dawn it once in her spare time and there was detail. She recalled the falcon, the snake coiled around his feet, the banner held up by sword and wand tip. Thanks to her excellent memory she actually managed a fair recreation or it and handed it proudly to the man. He took it wordlessly and examined it closely. She hoped she had not forgotten anything that would give her away.
"I'll get it for you." He disappeared into a back room leaving her to examine the other jewelry displayed in the glass case. Each piece was strikingly beautiful, intricately designed and extravagant. The one she had chosen was so simple. She worried Draco would not like it, that he would lightly toss it aside. He probably would, she reflected somewhat sadly.
Dragging steps came from the back and slowly the man approached the front counter again, this time with the ring in hand. He placed it inside a velvet covered, black box with gold writing on it and, with a single swish of his wand, it was wrapped in emerald paper and tied with a silver ribbon. He tucked a card in the ribbon and handed it over.
"Thank you, sir." Hermione offered graciously. The man nodded in response and grabbed a pipe off his counter, lit it and began to puff and he handed her the bill. She tried hard not to let her eyes widen. She was quite sure this could not be the right price. She was not even certain she had brought that much gold with her. The ring itself was only cast in silver. How could it possibly be so expensive? She could feel the man's eyes on her, waiting for her reaction. Doing the only thing she could, she handed over her entire coin purse. The man took it with another nod, but stopped in mid movement, his eyes fixed on her hand. Hermione followed his gaze to her finger where her plain engagement ring glittered in the faint light. The man slowly put down his smoking pipe and reached for her hand as if entranced.
'What could he see in such a simple golden band?' she wondered.
"May I see it?" he asked, suddenly humble. Too surprised to protest and very curious, she handed the ring over with a squeaky, "Of course."
He held it gingerly, sliding his little round glasses further down his nose as he inspected it very carefully. He scrutinized it for some time, drawn close like a moth to the flame. A few times he carefully tapped his wand to it, the result, which if any was imperceptible even to the astute Hermione, left him looking distinctly surprised. When he finished he audibly sighed, and stared at it reverently, raising it closer to the light. He looked so longingly at it in fact that it made her nervous that he would return it. She coughed softly to bring his attention back to her presence.
"Is there a problem sir?" she asked as meekly as she could, frankly puzzled. He looked at her hard, appraisingly as he handed it back.
"Young lady, do you know what this is you wear so lightly on your finger?"
"I am not learned in jewelry, I'm afraid and did not think it polite to inquire,"
"Of course not, of course not. Why I bet you assumed it was a plain gold band, didn't you?" he seemed amused, but not condescending.
"Yes sir." Hermione answered him, still perplexed.
"I assure you there is nothing plain about this piece. This piece…this piece…" He sucked his lip in apparent delight. "My dear girl," his voice lowered. "This is Orichalcum, the vanished gold of the temples of Atlantis and those of Solomon. It's been recreated often from copper and gold from high mountains, but real pieces are rare for history rumors its supplies utterly spent. Red gold: that's what they call it. It has strange powers, strange powers indeed."
He stared hungrily at the band, picking up and chewing on the end of his pipe thoughtfully.
"Are you sure?" she asked blankly. His visage darkened.
"Of course I'm sure."
"Not to insult your knowledge sir. I was only taken by surprise that I should hold something so rare."
"Aye." He agreed. "And you'll want to take great care of that."
"Yes sir. Thank you." She responded, slipping the band back on and leaving the establishment as he nodded to her. It felt strange and cold on her finger now. She just could not understand why Draco would give her something like that, especially without bragging about it first. She bargained it had something to do with its magical properties the old man had mentioned. She would have to read up on this substance. Just what strange powers did it have?
Darkness had completely covered the little town and she had to light her wand to navigate her way without falling. She hurried back to the school, slipping carefully up the hall to their tower. Opening the drawer to her desk to place the present until the next day, Hermione spotted something that made her skin crawl. Her diary. She had neglected it lately, not feeling the need to write since nothing had happened and Snape would already be reporting anything of substance in the castle. She may know a few more student interactions, but she doubted any of that would be helpful to the Order's work. Harry and Ron knew all about the D.A. and as for the horcruxes, that could not be mentioned. Out of curiosity, she opened it to the last entry and found page with no title, two names in two columns, and dozens of marks drawn in blood. In anger at herself, she tore the page, crumpled it and threw it forcefully into the fire where it withered, blackened, and ceased to be. Feeling some relief, she redirected her focus to her desk where all that was left was a crinkled manuscript at the bottom of the desk: the letter. She ignored the urge to pick it and read it, but rather stuffed it in the gift box but froze in mid-motion as it passed under the candle light and the card became clear. The name of the jeweler caught her eye. It was so familiar…where had she heard that name before? Gouge? Then it hit her. Of course, how could she be so stupid? That was the last name of Draco's former fiancée. Small world. She had bought jewelry from a relative of hers, claiming to be married to Draco nonetheless. She cringed. She also burned the card, watching the words "Gouge" curl black in the fire. Once the gift was safely hidden in her locked drawer, Hermione went to sleep.
When morning came, she rose for breakfast early and ate quickly. She wanted to arrive to Draco's wing as soon as possible. She ignored stares and whispers as she happily clutched the little box in her coat pocket.
When she entered the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey did not object. Rather, she cleared out without a word. Draco was sitting alone in the room in a white bed, already eating breakfast. He seemed cheerful enough, for Draco. She approached with caution, expecting an outburst of hate. Finally he spotted her and stopped eating. She came closer in the way she would near a strange dog.
"Good morning Draco." She tried, breathlessly even as she tried to sound unconcerned.
"Morning." Well, that took her by surprise. "Today's my birthday." He announced happily. "Did you know that Granger?" He calmly sipped his pumpkin juice.
"I did actually."
"Did you?" he seemed mildly surprised, then shrugged it off with offhand amusement and tucked into his breakfast once more.
"Snape told me." She admitted "But I got you something." He choked on his eggs. She ignored the memories such a sound evoked.
"As in a present?" he asked.
"No, as in an evil monkey. Well, what else would I mean?" She produced the little box from her coat pocket and handed it over lightly. She could not help the hopeful look she gave him no more than he could help the odd one he gave her. He unwrapped it eagerly in an almost childlike way that made a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. She ignored it. He raised an eyebrow at the name of the jeweler on the box and she mentally cursed that he had noticed that.
Draco said nothing, but paused before lifting the lid.
"Nothing is going to leap out at me, is it Granger?"
"No." she shook her head, laughing a little in spite of herself.
When he opened the box, however, his expression greatly changed. His eyes widened in surprise and he fingered the engraved surface of his ring. He wasn't the only one who was surprised. The engraving was perfect and at first appeared to be lined with gold, but upon closer inspection, she realized that it was tiny lines of fire that had etched it, burning along the lines, swirling about almost like water. She recognized the spell at once from a book she had read at the manor. Holding the family mark, this fire would burn anyone disloyal to them member of the family that bore it. The old man had been testing her, the family crest and motto, the fire etching. Even more surprising than that, she had passed the test.
"Well, I must say," he began and her hopes lifted. "That is a much better gift than a broken jaw."
"Oh. You do remember."
"Well, no. Snape told me. It seems I was given a potion and a good deal of alcohol last night so I don't really remember much of anything; except missing dinner to look for you when Snape got angry that I had left you somewhere."
"What?"
"Pansy apparently slipped me a love potion in my firewhiskey." He said it under his breath.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"
"I don't care what you choose to believe." He said simply. "I know I wasn't myself yesterday, and I don't know what happened." Hermione averted her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I did not mean to hurt you that badly."
"I know."
"You know."
"Snape told me."
"Oh. You like it then?" she ventured. He raised his eyebrows. "The ring I mean." She clarified.
"Yes actually. It's surprisingly tasteful." She only rolled her eyes, but was pleased to see him slip it on.
"Are you feeling any better?"
"Yes. Just a little hung over." He touched his head. "Pomfrey stubbornly refuses to give me anything for it. 'Shouldn't have been drunk in the first place…'" he mocked. "I'm of age today, so I don't see why it matters."
"I could whip something up for you."
"Could you?" Again, he was taken off guard.
"Of course I could. I'll be back soon." She rose and left to go brew a simple relief potion. It was the least she could do. Still, she needed to be very careful that Draco did not take advantage of her guilt though. She finished it fairly quickly but was glad it was a Saturday. Otherwise she would be missing class for this. When she brought it back to the hospital wing, concealed in her coat pocket, she heard a commotion inside and hesitated before opening the door. With a silent spell she cracked the door, for the familiarity of the raised voices inside was too tempting to resist eavesdropping.
"Ridiculous. This is not what I expected from you Draco!"
"It's my birthday. I don't want to spend it with that mudblood."
"Oh woe is you! I'm sorry to ruin your all important birthday plans with the lovely woman who poisoned you, but you have other things you have to do."
"It's not fair professor!"
"You insolent little child: life's not fair! Tell me this is not the first time you've noticed!"
"No, I know. I don't see why I can't feign sleep. My head is still killing me."
"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you got drunk last night. What's more, maybe your reflexes would have been more acute. How is your jaw?"
"Numb."
"Happy birthday. Enjoy your lunch."
"Thanks." His enthusiasm seeped through to the hallway. There Hermione frowned at his expressed opinion. What else could she expect really? He was just Malfoy after all. She cleverly slipped behind a statue of a healer.
"Good afternoon Miss Granger." Snape said anyway as he passed, eyes straight ahead. Feeling foolish, she slipped out and entered Draco's room where he was sitting up in bed, massaging his head.
"Still hurting?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to get inebriated."
"You should be thankful I did drink. That's the only way you beat me in last night."
"How would you know?"
"True. You could have been motivated by intense jealousy you felt. Hell hath no fury…"
"Just drink your stupid remedy." She sighed. As she handed it to him and he took it, his sleeve slipped down over his writ and she noticed he was wearing the ring. She could not help but smile in triumph faintly, so she looked away, playing with her own ring. Again, she though of what she had learned the night before. Strange indeed. She thought about asking Draco about it when he interrupted her thoughts.
"Ah, now that's much better. You're not bad with potions Granger." That was a thank you, she supposed. "Care for some lunch?"
"I really need to head to the library." She lied.
"Are you abandoning your fiancée on his birthday?" he teased. This was Snape's doing, she was sure of it. Draco was certainly playing the part well. Then again, what were his options? His so called friends? They were so thick she doubted they remember their own birthdays, much less his. His parents? They were far too bust at home. Or, as Snape had put it, the lovely woman who poisoned him? For the first time she noticed that there were no presents stacked around his head and piled at the foot of his bed like Harry would be surrounded with when he awoke in the hospital wing. While she was certain Draco would receive the finest gift money could buy, where was the line of concerned people having madam Pomfrey pulling at her hair and ushering them out? He was alone, on his birthday nonetheless.
"Of course not," she smiled coyly. "What exciting things do you have planned for the two of us?"
"I thought," he grinned mischievously. "We might have ourselves a little date."
She raised her eyebrows critically. "A date?" she asked, skepticism plainly evident.
"Well yes. Do you plan to rush into a marriage with someone you have never so much as been on a single date with, do you? That would seem awfully rash for you Hermione Granger."
She laughed. You know, you may have a point there Malfoy. I say you do owe me a date. What sort of romantic things did you have planned?"
"Oh you know this and that," he coughed. "Surprises around every corner. The time of your life. Typical date with Draco Malfoy" He bragged, leaning back, his arms crossed behind his head.
"I see. Lunch in a hospital wing then, is it?" she asked wittily. He laughed. It was pure accident. He stopped abruptly, looking as though he startled himself and throwing her an almost wary glance. She frowned at his discomfort in a slightly amused fashion. "Does it hurt to laugh?" she asked him.
"No. The pain is gone." He said, touching his jaw lightly.
"Then why did you stop?" He did not answer. "Dangerous for your image I suppose. A Malfoy laughing? No. I dare say that would give people some awful misconceptions about them. Like that they have a sense of humor for instance."
"Excuse me? Malfoy's do have a sense of humor I'll have you know."
"That's a lie." She snorted skeptically.
"Is not!"
"Then prove me wrong."
"How should I do that? I've already laughed."
""Then laugh at yourself."
"What is there about me to be laughed at?" he said cockily. She grinned when she rolled her eyes this time, but only for a second. They glanced away awkwardly.
"I'll open the window. It's sunny out." The light afternoon breeze teased the ends of her clothing and wrapped it closer to her body. The sunlight softly lit her features in the dim room, making her skin feel radiant. She remained at the window, leaning forward on the sill and sighing. The sharp glint of something caught her eye. Her ring was reflecting the light. It's strange what little attention she had given it before it had enticed her curiosity. She looked at Draco wondering if she could ask him, but thought better of it. His eyes did not seem welcoming of questions. He was taking in her appearance; his grey eyes were shimmering and churning as they drank her in hungrily. There was no burn in them, no smoke. They shone and lapped at her in a way that made color flush her cheeks inexplicably. Clearly pleased with himself, his trademark smirk slid across his face.
A house elf entered, as if on cue. The little being carried a tray of Greek stuffed cabbage with warm, fresh pita bread. On the side were two Greek salads along with some fruit. Draco was licking his lips at the sight of some baklava for dessert. Hermione was surprised at his choice and said so.
"I had no idea you were so fond of Greek food."
"I was in a mood. You like Greek, don't you?"
"Of course." She smiled. In fact she did, but she would have said the same either way, especially with that nervous way he just asked her. The two spoke little as they ate, save the comment here and there on the food itself, savoring the taste. It was almost pleasant as they sat with the sun and cool breeze filtering in and licking the honey of baklava from their lips, at peace for perhaps the first time since they had met. Both were too ashamed of themselves to be judgmental towards of angry with the other, to full-mouthed to argue or bicker. That reflection made her realize an odd fact: the two of them, as much of their lives they had shared in some way, had never actually met. Strange.
In secret, they kept stealing glances at each other, catching the other and looking away quickly. It was most curious, she reflected. Hermione sat back in her chair and Draco slumped back into his bed when the two finished. With a hint of mischievous smile, Draco requested: "I'm bored. Read me my book."
She started in surprise and frowned at him. "Nothing wrong with your hands or eyes is there? Read it yourself."
"What?" he asked in mock astonishment. "Is Hermione Granger, the greatest bookworm Hogwarts has ever known, refusing to read a book? Come on, it's the least you can do." She felt outrage at such manipulation, but her guilt forbid her to protest. She acquiesced, seizing a book from the bedside table ferociously and throwing it open.
Her eyebrows rose in blatant shock. "What?" he inquired at her amazed expression.
"Draco this- this is Poe."
"Yes?"
"But he's- he's-"
"Too dark for you Hermione? Snape gave me the book for my birthday, said I might enjoy it."
"But he's-"
"What?"
"Nothing." She said, thinking better of it. "He's very intellectual, classic. I did not know you could, um, read."
"Very amusing, love. Are you going to read it or not?"
"Sure you lazy snot. I like Poe. What shall we read? Short story or poem?"
"Are you asking to read poetry to me Granger?" he teased with a bold wink.
"Oh yes. I have the perfect one to start with." Her voice was low and full of deception.
"Very well," he said sitting up, intrigued and arrogant expression in place. "What is it?"
With a dark smile curling her lips, she dove into the book, barely bothering to look at the words as she could recite it all from memory…'Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered, weak and weary…'"
The rhythmic tones and delightful rhyme lulled him at first, but she told it as a story, pausing in the right places and leaving him in suspense, she reveled watching his posture and expression change to one of intrigue. She changed her voice as well, matching the mood of the poem bit by bit. Impassioned by the end, she read with both the anguish of the speaker and the triumph she felt at watching Draco leaning forward so eagerly.
"And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"
His final response was a simple: "Well." She continued, reading "The Bells," then "The Caste of Amontillado". He ate it up like it was the sappy, golden honey of the baklava, licking his lips as she read, sitting on the edge of his seat as the color gradually reappeared in his face. He especially enjoyed the "Masque of the Red Death."
"…And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all."
"Bloody hell." He concluded.
When she sipped some cider to wet her tired throat, "Keep going," he said. She smiled and complied. She could not help herself. The words were delicious and the irony of Draco falling in love with the writing of a muggle was to entertaining to stop. This was a first. The two had something in common: they both enjoyed Poe. It was odd to look at him then, as if she were seeing him for the first time. It was not unlike the Draco that watched the storms. Some mystery about him had unraveled, and she could relax in her element, reading tantalizing mystery and horror Poe so elegantly crafted.
The sun was setting as the first clap of thunder hit, spookily enough, at the same time as the thudding from below in "The Fall of the House of Usher". It made both of them jump and then laugh nervously at their foolishness. She paused in her reading and rose to close the window against the autumn wind. It was really blowing in by then, giving her chills. Wordlessly, Draco threw her a blanket, or rather threw one at her chair. She was touched by the gesture of simple hospitality towards her, but said nothing to indicate she had noticed. Best not to make things awkward again, she figured. After all, this had been the first time the two had been together more than tolerating each others company.
Meanwhile, the parlor where the narrator of Poe's story and the brother Roderick were reading was also darkening, just as the hospital wing was, from a mix of approaching night and storm clouds. Just when the parlor swung open to reveal the buried girl, Lady Madeline, hands dripping with blood, the door of the hospital wing swung open to reveal the torch lit face of madam Pomfrey. Again, they leapt, but this time not laughter followed, as Madam Pomfrey's face allowed no such frivolity. She rushed in huffing and immediately began to shepherd them out of the door.
"Go, go! You two must be out of here quickly."
"But madam Pomfrey I-" Draco began to protest.
"You are fine, mister Malfoy, I assure you. Now clear out the two of you."
Hermione, closing the book, stood obediently though ruffled by the healer's sudden rudeness. Something was amiss. She could sense it. The nurse kept glancing over her shoulder and she was practically dragging Draco out of the bed. As she did so, his sleeping robes slid high up his leg revealing his lean, muscular thigh, making Hermione turn her head to avoid embarrassment. She snorted at Draco's pink face and he scowled at her, but it lacked maliciousness and she could tell he wanted to laugh too. That is until the doors swung open again, this time to expose the massive dark figure of Hagrid carrying a body. Madam Pomfrey gasped and pushed then towards the door.
"Bring him over here Hagrid." She indicated the bed next to the one where Draco had been resting. Curiously Draco asked her: "What's happened?"
She looked at him, apparently shocked they were still there. "Out!" she hissed and they scuttled out, but not before catching site of the limp body Hagrid held in his arms. It was Hermione's turn to gasp and she turned back before Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.
"That was Neville!" she snapped at him, voice cracking already.
"I know, but there are better ways to find out what happened."
"But I want to help him!"
"What could you do Madam Pomfrey could not? You'd only be in the way. Come on. Get some sleep and you can be here when he wakes up in the morning."
His consideration froze her and she followed his lead away from the hospital wing, conceding the point at least.
"How do you plan to find out what happened?"
"I'll talk to Snape in the morning. Tell him we need to know. It's Longbottom we're talking about. I'm sure he did something daft and got himself hurt as usual."
"But the woods have been really dangerous recently! We aren't allowed outside after dark anymore."
"He did not look particularly bloody or petrified. He was breathing."
"How comforting."
"It's good to see you care more about that nitwit than you own fiancée." He snapped.
"How could you say that? Neville is my friend I'm just as concerned as- hang on. Are you jealous?"
"Jealous? Me?" he rolled his eyes nonchalantly.
"You are. You're jealous!" her panic suddenly receded to make room for bemusement.
He looked at her, trying to appear fierce, but snorted and shook his head. She could not help but laugh too at his odd behavior. She mentally congratulated herself on the idea of slipping him some cheering potion. That was one of her more brilliant ideas, if she did say so herself.
They moved on in silence. As time went by, she sighed sad as her worry increased for Neville, lying somewhere in the hospital wing. Draco was beginning to feel awkward and out of place, his body language showed it. She should be worrying about him, she concluded, and consequently redirected her attention. She handed him his present from Snape.
He frowned. "But we haven't finished it."
She wanted to smile, in spite of everything. "Okay." She pocketed it. With a sly smile she added as an after thought. "No worries. I won't tell by the way."
"Tell what?" he asked rudely.
"That you cannot read. That's why you want to me to finish this with you." She smirked at him, trying her best to mirror his infamous one. He just shook his head, the corners of his mouth revealing that he was at least somewhat amused at her jibe.
"Maybe I just enjoy making you do whatever I want." His voice was low and dangerous. This time she did not take the bait. Instead she quieted and looked down. In the fresh silence she noticed her stomach growl as they approached the stair case where they were to ascend to their beds, but Hermione headed in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Draco asked her.
"I'm hungry." She sheepishly admitted.
He laughed at her, pleased with her mild embarrassment. "Well then where shall we eat? Dinner in the great hall is over."
"Why in the kitchens, of course."
"Miss Granger!" he exclaimed mockingly. "Are you intending to sneak?"
"You'll find Draco," she said coyly, "that I can be very sneaky when I wish to be."
"Her real colors begin to show. I knew you were trouble."
He followed her towards the kitchens and looked at her queerly as she came to a halt before the picture of fruit. She then tickled the pear, causing Draco to snort and look at her as if she were mad.
"What? Don't tell me you've never tickled a pear before?"
Critically, he raised an eyebrow. "No. Not a pear.." Again she chose to ignore the innuendo. Once the door swung open, house elves rushed to greet them. While Dobby was especially fond towards Hermione, the other elves seemed disturbingly partial to the commanding Draco. She shot him a jealous look at one point which he found most amusing. Surprisingly though he was not indecent to them. Dinner was more of a buffet of treats and some chamomile tea Hermione desperately needed to calm her nerves.
Eventually, they made their way out, barely escaping the clutches of the merry, pie-carrying little beings. Both were tired and did not speak much on the way to bed.
Only Draco spoke on the way back to the dormitories. Practically giddy from his wine, he made it difficult to sneak through the halls without detection. "Thank God Crabbe and Goyle never found that entrance."
"Even if they did, I doubt they would be clever enough to get in," she quipped. He sniggered in response, but stopped abruptly as a loud screech erupted in the hallway. He had trod on Mrs. Norris' tail.
"Oh hell!" Hermione swore, frustrated. Draco wanted to laugh at her, but didn't as he was too busy running. The two managed to avoid discovery and arrived triumphant, but breathless in their room. They dressed in silence, Draco opening the window to let the sound of threatening thunder in along with the cold breeze. Hermione grabbed an extra blanket for her bed when he did so. Before she could climb into bed, Draco stopped her with a hand on her elbow, startling her.
"We're not finished."
He had frightened her. She had expected an attack once the mood lifting potion wore off.
"Finished what?" she asked daftly, swallowing hard as she realized her wand was already placed on her bedside table.
"The story. We've got to finish it."
"Well," she smiled in her best attempt at seductively. "I guess we'll have to finish it on our date."
"Our what?"
"You owe me a date, remember? And I always collect my debts." He raised an eyebrow and released her. She translated it as them having an accord. She was trying to d her job by spending more civil time with him, or so she told herself. The truth was it was curiosity gnawing at her again. She had glimpsed the real Draco today, and she wondered what else she could uncover.
She turned to climb into bed, but stopped short of drawing her curtains.
"Draco?" he stopped in mid-motion of removing his shirt. "It was strangely nice to meet you."
He frowned at her oddly then smirked. Pulling his shirt off to see her cheeks faintly pink, he agreed cockily: "Yeah. Almost a pleasure."