Sorry I've taken so long to write this chapter up. If any of you have noticed or gone by my profile page (which I update regularly to let readers know why I'm taking so long on writing a chapter), you would have seen that I have been extremely busy: exams at the beginning, mid-December, Christmas shopping in less than a week, and then personal time with my family and fiance, with whom I have not been able to spend much time. Then there was a lot of work, and essentially, all of my free time was occupied with one thing or another. To boot, I kind of just gave my laptop a bit of break; I just needed some time to myself, you know.
Just to let you all know, I have temporarily quit WoW (my guild's kinda gone uber lame, my bf (who was an officer) quit too, and I just don't have time, so it will no longer be taking up the extra time I could use to write). However, I have restarted playing Fable II (and am trying to find my copy of Fable:TLC), so it has taken up a bit of time, but usually I play only after my nightly workouts. I have also started school again (we started Jan 5th), so it will be taking some time, but I feel I may have more time this semester to keep writing.
Thank you for your patience.
Warning: hot, sexy smut ahead. Wasn't originally planning on it, but fuck it, it seems like a great idea. 3 Turn away if you don't like, I will not be warning when it starts of ends. All you need to know is that it takes place in the chapter. Don't read if you don't like, and don't bitch. You have been warned.
Quick P.S. if anyone is interested in knowing, the date is Saturday, January 5th, 2009 in this fic. Just in case anyone is curious.
P.P.S. I will start giving out recipes as of the next chapter, but they will not just be dessert oriented (my father found this recipe for this delicious chicken and cheese tortellini stew the other day), and I will also try to post some vegetarian ones who those to do not eat meat. (I have this recipe for Miso Soup I would like to share, as well as one of Shrimp Stir Fry that was to die for).
Chapter 7
Possession
The following week passed by quickly enough; the school was cleaned, dorms returned to their normal state, and the groaning voices of exhausted students began to rise in the air as the return to classes quickly approached. The trains were due to arrive the weekend before the start of classes, aimed toward getting the students back 'school-mode' and to start organizing their items.
It was in this period of time that Hermione and Draco spent as much time together as possible; with the return to classes at the edge of the horizon, they knew that their time together would grow more and more limited. They were both devoted students and had tendencies to spend more time in the library and immersed in books than doing other activities, and with the return of their friends came the return of visiting one another.
He knew that once Potter, Weasel, and Weaslette came back into the picture, they would be trying their damndest to keep Hermione was far from Draco as possible.
Of course, he was willing to let them try as much as they could, but, unless he find a good reason to, he would be forced to let Hermione go with them if she wanted to.
All because of that damn agreement they had made a week ago. She had all but forced him to comply, having caught him in a rather…difficult scenario. So, he had essentially had no choice but to agree with her 'rules,' so long as she did the same for him. He would not have a one-sided relationship or 'rule.'
On their last 'vacation Saturday', we find the couple sitting comfortably in the sitting room, Draco lazing on the armchair with Hermione practically draped over the couch, a book pressed up to her nose.
He hadn't bothered getting dressed that morning; he wore his favourite loose fitting green silk pyjama pants and nothing else. Hermione had laughed quite a bit when she saw that there were little snakes on the pants that wriggled and hissed. She, on the other hand, had stolen one of his shirts and had yanked on her only pair of leggings, which made the draping of her body all the easier.
"You're not going to greet Potty and Weasel?"
She didn't look away from her book at the sound of his voice, if anything she pressed it closer and adjusted her position, swinging her leg on the back of the couch in her infamous 'comfortable' position.
"I don't really need to, do I?" she replied after a moment's silence.
He looked at her over the book he held, eyeing her appreciatively before letting out a low sigh. "They are your friends, aren't they, in spite of being annoying gits?"
"Yes, and I saw them not long ago, so why should I feel the need to greet them?"
She was hiding something. She thought he didn't know her, she thought that he couldn't read her all too well, but in the past few weeks, he had gotten to know her better than her friends had probably ever known her, and she was hiding something.
"What happened?"
She lowered her book the slightest this time, sending an annoyed look his way. "Just because I don't feel the need to meet them doesn't mean something happened."
Dog-earing the page and smirking in response to her wince, he closed his book and settled it on his lap.
"Hermione, it's because you have no reason that I think something happened," he pointed out, stretching in the chair.
"Well you're wrong." She lifted the book back up to cover her face as though it would end the discussion.
He frowned at her for a moment, turning his gaze to watch the roaring fire crackle merrily on the hearth. She was hiding something from him; he knew it, his Malfoy senses were tingling. Something about the way she responded, keeping all emotion from her voice, the way she hid her face, it told him that something had transpired between her and one of the Douchebag Duo had done something to her that made her want to avoid confronting them for as long as possible.
Hermione wouldn't have said anything, that much he knew. She was true to her word, if she made a promise she would keep it, no matter what, so he knew that she hadn't blabbed about their relationship. Besides, he would have been swamped in Howlers for the past couple of weeks if she had told them, and the lack of screaming red letters was a sure sign she had not spoken.
This meant only one thing…one of them had done something to her that had made her uncomfortable, at the very least.
Potty wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their relationship…he, out of the two douchebags, had actually showed some sign of real platonic love for the girl.
Weaslette was annoying, yes, but she would never do anything that would hurt Hermione; when he looked at the way the two interacted, he understood the meaning of sisterhood. He could easily say that their relationship was very similar to his and Blaise's; they were close enough to be considered 'like' siblings, and yet they were not blood related.
That only left…
"What the fuck did Weasel do to you?"
He saw her fingers clench involuntarily around the book, watched her body tensed momentarily before, very much like water pouring over her, a rippling wave of forced calmness washed over her. His nostrils flared in annoyance at her silence and he felt his irritation slowly rising.
"Hermione."
She ignored him again.
He clenched his teeth in annoyance…if that damn Weasel did anything to her…if he even touched her…he was going to kill the bastard. Tear him apart, limb by limb.
He slowly unfolded himself from the chair, fluidly and silently making his way over to where Hermione lay on the couch. Lowering his hand, he yanked the book out of her grasp and snapped it shut. When she made several sounds of protest and reached to grab it, he flung it across the room, causing her to curse rather loudly and colourfully.
"What the hell was that for?" she snapped, sitting up on the couch. "You don't throw books! That's abuse!"
"Shut up."
"Don't bloody well tell me to shut up, I told you; nothing happened. Bloody hell, I can't believe you threw the book!" she continued, standing up to glare at him and jab a finger at his chest. "That's bloody rude."
"What did Weasel do?"
"Nothing!"
"Then why are you avoiding him?" He moved closer and she unconsciously to a step back, back of her knees already pressed against the edge of the couch. "Why won't you give me a straight answer, Hermione, instead of avoiding it?"
"Because…I find it unnecessary to answer your silly questions," she replied, averting her eyes for only a moment.
It took that single moment, that little split second, to let him know that she was lying. He leaned forward, shifting his weight so that she was forced to sit back on the couch, and he pressed his hands on the back, encasing her head.
"Hermione…what did he do? If that fucker so much as touched you inappropriately, I will fucking kill him, do you understand?"
She stared up at his face and felt, for the first real time since meeting him years ago, real fear. His eyes were dark, furious clouds, swirling storms that came with the threat of thunder and lightning. His skin was taut, lips thinned and jaw clenched, nostrils flaring and brow furrowed as she saw true rage pass across his features. A heady musk filled the air; masculine with a hint of rain, making her truly think that he was a walking storm-cloud.
"You know Hermione, if you don't tell me, I'll be forced to assume, and I will assume the worst," he threatened, voice low and rumbling, like thunder echoing from his chest.
She saw no way out; she couldn't lie, she had quickly clued in that he could read her easier and faster than she could read Hogwarts: A History, and lying would only get her in more trouble. She wanted to tell the truth, but at the same time wanted to avoid it as much as possible; if he was reacting this badly to the notion that Ron had done something, she feared what he might do if he found out Ron had just tried to cop a feel.
"You don't have to be so bloody threatening," she replied sharply.
"You could give me a straight answer," he returned, eyes flashing with increased annoyance.
"Do you honestly want to know?" she asked, puffing up as much as she could so that she felt bigger, stronger, and more defiant in response to his overly masculine actions.
"Why do you think I'm asking?" he retorted, moving closer to her, voice lowering dangerously.
"When we hugged, he tried to…get a feel," she snapped, fed up of his attitude. "He was just being a bloody prat, and it was more annoying than anything, and I really don't feel like seeing the git right now, okay? It was rude, made me uncomfortable, and I wanted to hex him for it! And then he had the gall to follow me out of the bloody house and ask me to be his girlfriend. Honestly, I am not in the bloody mood to deal with his pathetic antics right now, and I'm going to avoid him as much as possible!" She huffed loudly, glaring up at him. "Are you happy?"
"He…tried to touch you?" He spoke the words as though it was the worst offense in the entire world, and she swore his eyes flashed bright white, lightning flashing in the dark, threatening clouds.
"Barely," she replied, trying to push her annoyance away and let a calmness wash over her. She knew that if she argued back, it would only increase his rage and jealousy, and that by using a calming, easing voice, she would be able to diffuse some of his anger. "He just reached a bit further in our hug, that's all; it wasn't anything major, just…uncomfortable. I don't feel like he…assaulted me at all. It was awkward," she explained.
"Where?"
"What?"
"Where did that bastard try to touch you?" Draco snapped, hands clenching the couch, nails digging into the furniture on either side of her head.
Breathing deeply, she swallowed thickly before trying to gain some leverage in this argument. A part of her wanted to tell him, just to get the damn thing done and over with, but at the same time, she knew that would be the single most idiotic thing she could ever possible do. If she told Draco, then the bloody prat would sprint on over to Weasel and do nothing short but murder the prat.
And, she admitted, Ron may be an insensitive, selfish prat, but he was still her friend.
It was with much resolved and, according to a large section of her brain, much stupidity, that she inhaled, looked up at the menacing figure of her lover, and snapped out the words, "I don't have to tell you anything; it's my business, not yours."
She didn't know what happened, didn't know how things wound up this way, and she had had no idea whatsoever that he had been aroused in any way or form, but the next thing she knew, her head was being crushed into the couch as his lips swooped down and savagely captured hers in a bruising kiss.
She had expected the worst, had thought that he would rant and scream, that he would demand she tell him or the very thing happening would no longer occur; she had not expected him to kiss her with such ferocity it made her teeth chatter and her heart thunder wildly in her chest. She did not expect him to growl in such a primitive way, had not anticipated the burning sensation his hands left as they ran down her arms, and she couldn't stop her body from shivering uncontrollably in his embrace.
"Fucking Weasel," he snarled against her lips, dragging his mouth down to suckle and bite her neck, tugging the flesh in to suck until she squirmed under his touch. "How dare he touch what is mine."
The words registered in her mind and she had had a retort formed instantaneously, but it was quickly drowned out by the feel of liquid heat filling and pouring from her abdomen, electricity sizzling through her veins to overwhelm and set her body on fire. The way he said those damn possessive words, the way his lips latched onto her neck and bruised her pale flesh, it made her let out the longest mewling cry she had ever voiced.
Damn him and his bruising kisses, damn his hot hands and their fiery touch, and damn his bloody strong body that made quick work of her shirt and had it in shreds on the floor in seconds. She wanted to tell him that she was her own woman, that no man could control her body, but he and his damn touch made every coherent thought in her mind burn away in ecstasy's fire.
His fingers burned her breasts, digits making quick work of the clasp before reaching out to cup and brutally massage the twin globes. Her head slammed back, eyes rolling as his lips trailed a route of flame down to her pert nipples, taking them in mouth each in turn, savagely suckling them until she cried out pleasure, nails digging into his scalp to press his mouth harder against her smooth flesh.
His teeth bit at the ivory globes, tongue lashing like a hot whip against her heated flesh, and she swore she nearly came when he snarled out against her breasts, "Mine, these are mine…you're fucking mine."
"Sweet Circe!"
One hand slipped past the waistband of her leggings, fingers sliding mercilessly over the soaked panties before tugging them aside and plunging rapidly into her aching core. She clawed his back, arching against his brutal kisses that trailed down her stomach, legs twitching involuntarily, one foot pressing against the coffee table for support.
"Mine," he growled, biting her abdomen just beside her belly button, sending electric frissons up her spine. "All mine."
She was babbling now, whimpering his name, listing a variety of words that hardly made any sense, demanding his touch grow harder, crying for him to move faster, begging for him to stop the foreplay and take her.
Her leggings were tugged unceremoniously down her quaking legs, tossed off to the side, forgotten as her underwear was torn off of her body. She nearly cried when his fingers left her to engage in the process of stripping her, and she screamed when he plunged three back into her soaked heat. His free hand wrapped around her back, pulling her body closer to his as his fingers brutally slammed in and out of her wet center.
"Only for me," he growled, pressing his mouth against her ear, tongue slipping out to twine around her earlobe. "Come…come only for me."
His words, his fingers, his…everything…every little thing about him made her body tense up and, with a wordless cry; she fell into the abyss of pleasure as her body shook violently in his grasp. She was left shaking and sweaty, unable to get a single grasp of reality, and had just begun to form a single coherent sentence before he mercilessly cut her reprieve short with his squirming, sliding, and scissoring fingers.
"Shit," she moaned, draping her body on his, mouth pressing feverish kisses over his sweat soaked shoulders.
"Again."
She was about to ask what, ready to lean back, look him in the eye and wonder aloud what he was talking about, when his fingers found that deliciously swollen and sensitive spot within her walls. After several short jabs, she was falling again, a loud scream leaving her lips as her body convulsed again and again around his fingers, juice gushing out to cover his fingers.
She was going to die…Hermione Granger was going to die from a damn pleasure overload in Draco Malfoy's arms…time and time again, his fingers slid in and out, harder and faster than the last, always snarling out "Again," with every flick, every bruising caress, every little heated touch that made her moan his name.
"Stop," she begged, sobbing into his neck, "I can't…no more…please, Draco…"
He paused at her throat, stopping halfway through bruising her sweet flesh with his mouth, to lift his eyes to her. "Stop what, my little vixen?"
"I can't take it anymore," she gasped, squirming violently in his arms. "Please…just do it…stop this…"
"Just do what?" She felt his smile against her neck, heard the smirk in his words, making his voice that much deeper, all that much more sensual to the point that she shuddered in his arms as her body convulsed around him again.
"Fuck," he groaned, biting her jaw.
"Draco…please…I…" a part of her couldn't believe she was about to say it…still couldn't believe, hours afterwards, years later, that she said those words, "fuck me. Fuck me, Draco! Take me! Take all of me!"
Hot, heated laughter bubbled out of his throat, so damn erotic that she nearly came again if it weren't for the fact that his fingers slid out of her. She heard him fumbling with his pants, listened as they thumped softly when they found the floor. Suddenly, she wriggled with pleasure when she felt his hardness pressing against her moist slit. She instinctively reached out, hand grasping the soft steel of his length, fingers dancing along it until she heard his hiss out a breath.
Her hand was yanked away from his erection, quickly joined by the other to be pressed against the back of the couch above her head, held still by one of his own. His lips moved down to meet hers in a furious kiss, teeth gnashing and gnawing, tongues twining and lashing, and she moaned into his mouth, unable to hold back for much longer.
"You're mine," he snarled, releasing her hands to grasp her hips, sliding his hot length into her in one stroke, slamming hard and deep. "All mine."
Her kisses peppered his throat, tongue hot against his already heated flesh, nails clawing his abusing back as he slid savagely in and out of her aching core.
"I'll let them all know," Draco growled, cupping her buttocks to lift her hips, letting him move deeper within her, "that you're mine. They won't fucking touch you…nobody fucking touches you except me. Especially. Not. That. Weasel." He emphasized the last four words with a hard thrust that had her screaming for mercy.
She had…she had to let him know it went both ways…even though all she wanted to do was to completely fall apart in his arms. She desperately needed to let him know that he was hers just as much as she was his.
Her fingers daringly slid down his body, sliding between them to grasp his testicles, massaging the heavy sac in her hand.
"You're mine," she snarled, moving her mouth over his, revelling in the way pleasure rippled down his body. "Don't forget, you're mine just as I'm yours."
He groaned out a deep-throated yes before capturing her mouth with his, kissing her with the same brutality as he thrust into her, sliding harder and faster in and out of her wet heat, coming undone in her arms just as she fell completely apart in his. They went wild, lost all conscious thought as they performed the most savage, primitive ritual known to mankind. Bodies slapping against one another, heated rising in thick waves from their flesh, hearts beating wildly as the heady musk of sex filled the air. Pleasure overrode every other sensation and they moved in time, and yet so wildly that it was hard to believe they kept a proper tempo.
Her scream was quickly joined by his shouted groan, bodies stopping suddenly, clenching, twitching, pulsating against each other as they reached the pinnacle of pleasure, before collapsing in a sweaty heat on top of each other.
Black tinged the edge of her vision, and she was surprised she was still alive, given that her lungs were void of air and her heart beat painfully quickly in her chest. She swore he suffered as much as her, both bodies limp as overcooked noodles, feeling more like they had run a few dozen marathons as opposed to having engaged in the most satisfying, sensual, and primitive sexual act of their lives.
He was half draped on her, half off of the couch, face pressed against her stomach, eyes shut as he fought to regain his breath. Her fingers slowly made their way into his hair to twine around the silken locks, gently massaging his scalp, as though the very movement might calm their bodies and help them regain a sense of control over their minds and limbs.
"I…I didn't hurt you, did I?" he half mumbled against her stomach, unwilling to try and move his heavy body.
She couldn't help it; she shivered at the feeling of his breath against her sensitized skin. "No," she murmured softly. "What…what was that all about…? I thought you were going to kill someone."
She felt his cheeks shift and knew that he was smiling against her stomach. "I was…and I couldn't bear the thought of anyone, especially Weasel, touching you…and…I supposed I needed to mark my territory."
She snorted, fingers pausing mid-stroke of his scalp, and her head tilted to look down at him. He looked so bloody content, smiling like a cat that had just drank the most delicious cream ever.
Bastard.
"Well…I can't say I object to your 'methods,' but please, perhaps a little warning next time." She stretched her already relaxed body, turning her neck to knock out any kinks that had been forced into place by the position.
He laughed against her stomach and opened his eyes, angling his head to look up at her. The laughter faded for a moment, eyes hardening as seriousness took over his gaze. "Hermione."
"Mm?"
"Don't let that bastard touch you again. And if he does, you tell me right away, understand? You're mine, and I won't let anybody mistreat you."
She couldn't help it; her smile broadened at his possessive words. She had always wanted someone like that in her life, someone who, no matter how much she complained, no matter how hard she fought back, would be willing to step up and stand by her side no matter what. She knew that she could take care of herself, and she knew that he knew it, but that fact that he wanted to protect her, that he wanted to take care of her…it made her heart skip.
"I think I'm falling even more in love with you Draco, even if you are a possessive prat," she whispered, moving on the couch to let him lie beside her.
He reclined next to her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder and collarbone. "I promise I won't let Weasel do anything like that ever again," he murmured against her skin, hugging her closer when she shivered. "Besides…I think he might back off for a while."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well…he'll be too busy looking for the bloke that covered your neck in so many delectable hickeys."
Her hand slapped to her throat, eyes flying open at his words. "Draco!" she cried, forcing him off of the couch as she leapt to her feet, rushing off to the bathroom and leaving him in a heap on the floor.
"Five, four, three, two, one," he counted down slowly, smiling in spite of his uncomfortable position.
"YOU BLOODY PRAT!"
He burst into laughter, quite pleased with his handiwork.
Let Weasel try and take her…let the redheaded bastard try to touch her…he would have another thing coming if he ever came closer to Hermione ever again.
Draco would make the bastard pay.
It was a promise he intended to keep.
Ron sniffled glumly as they stepped out of the train, the cold washing over his body like a foreboding wave, a strange sensation that told him that this place was no longer as welcome as it used to be. He wasn't sure exactly what instigated the sensation; perhaps the chilly cold, the frigid wind, or maybe it was the way Harry and Ginny kept sending furtive looks his way. All he knew was that something was telling him to stay away from the place he had called his second home for the past seven years of his life.
Assuming that it was just a figment of his imagination, he shrugged his shoulders roughly and pushed the feeling aside. Clearing his throat, he looked to Harry and then surveyed the station. Friends were greeting friends, couples rushing forth to meet in a mashing of the lips and a crashing of the bodies, companions laughing jovially as they struck up conversation within seconds of greeting each other.
It was a pleasant sight, a platform filled with warmth and compassion in spite of the chilling temperatures. Ron looked around expectantly, hoping that she might appear, mashing her lips against his as she greeted him. He knew that she had missed him; did not have a single doubt in his mind. They were made for each other.
Slowly, the warmth seeped away from his body, eyes falling and shoulders slumping as he realized that she was nowhere in sight. His lips curled into a scowl and he turned to Harry.
"Where is she?"
Arching a brow in confusion, Harry was prepared to shrug his shoulders and ask who before he realized that Ron could be talking about only one woman.
Hermione.
He felt Ginny clench his hand in support, felt her fear rising as she expected Ron to throw a fit in the middle of the Hogsmeade station. Letting out a quiet sigh, Harry rolled his shoulders and replied; "She's probably in the library, doing more extra credit work. She doesn't have to come and meet us here; we've never done that before."
He made sense; Hermione had never once met them at the train station, nor had they ever met Hermione there as the end of winter break. There had been no need for it; they always met up in the school, which they would surely do once they got their things settled once more.
Ron wasn't sure whether he should believe Harry or not; it sounded like one of the many excuses he had heard before and it was debateable as to whether or not it made any sense. He hated to admit, however, that Harry did prove a point. Heaving a breath, he nodded and allowed Harry to lead the way back to the school.
He wanted to see her, desperately needed to feel her contact, but he supposed that it would have to wait. Perhaps the delay in their meeting would only make it stronger, emphasize the passion and love that they had for each other. Then, then she would see the mistake she made two years ago. She would see that he was right; they were made for each other, that they would someday marry and have children, she would stay home, take care of the brood.
It would be like those families he saw in those old Muggle television shows, where the husband comes home to a bountiful dinner, gorgeous wife and beautiful children, receiving nothing but love.
He couldn't wait.
He would show her that he was perfect for her, that she was meant to be with no one else but him, and then she would fall in his arms, crying out his name in love, and the world would be right again.
"Ron, are you going to get in or not?"
Blinking through his reveries, he looked up to see Ginny and Harry in the carriage, the Thestrals at the front whinnying impatiently.
"Sorry," he mumbled, clambering onto the carriage, sending a disgusted look to the skeletal horses that lead the carriages. He wished that he had never seen them; it was a constant reminder of all that he had lost.
But, he reminded himself, he promised that he wouldn't lose her. He wouldn't let her go; he would keep her, hold her in his arms, and lock her within his love.
She had no choice; they were made for each other.
Tightening her coat, Pansy stepped gracefully out of the carriage and looked up at the castle that was Hogwarts; a place that instigated a myriad of feelings from her: love, joy, disgust, annoyance, and comfort. The place was odd, the castle beautiful in its own way and yet foreboding in another. It felt like home, and yet it was a place she constantly wanted to leave.
At this moment, however, she had no choice but to be here. Draco was here, and he was in dire need of a new lesson.
"Stop staring, Pans, let's get inside before we freeze to death," Daphne said beside the brunette, gesturing to the edifice.
Nodding, Pansy and Daphne stepped up and walked back into the school, unable to bite back the sighs of relief as warmth flooded their bodies, turning their blueing skin a bright lively pink. Untangling the scarf from around her neck, Pansy looked around the Great Hall, listening to the voices of friends as they laughed and talked loudly about their vacations. The air seemed to be filled with excitement, rumours abound, fluttering around in the air like a restless wind, trying to fall on all ears that were willing to listen.
"Did you hear about the Gryffindor New Year's Party?"
"What happened?"
"It was a blast! Did you know that … snogged?"
"What?"
"Under the mistletoe!"
"And then they had no choice but to snog!"
"They sat at the Gryffindor table! Right with the others! And nothing happened!"
"A Ravenclaw told me that they've been dating in secret."
Pansy looked over to Daphne, arching a brow in curiosity. "I wonder what happened over the holidays."
Shrugging, Daphne looked over the Great Hall, trying to find her conniving little sister in the crowd. "Who knows? It's only gossip; we don't know if it's true or not."
"All gossip starts with a fact," Pansy replied, pushing through the crowd to find someone who might prove to be a fountain of knowledge. Sighing heavily, Daphne hurried on, ignoring the loud shout of outrage that came from across the hall. She pushed her way through the throng of students and slipped through a couple before finding Pansy listening avidly to a couple of younger Slytherin girls, who seemed to be glowing. Their arms moved wildly and she watched as her friend's expression grew from childishly curious to grimmer and grimmer with every passing second.
Something happened.
Something that she hadn't want happening had happened.
Something bad.
"Can you believe it?"
Daphne blinked, tilting her head to listen in on a reuniting couple's conversation. The girl, a sixth year from Gryffindor, was talking loudly to her boyfriend, a sixth year Hufflepuff, and seemed to be rather excited over the news that she had in store for her lover.
"What happened, Elle?"
"Well, first off, on New Year's Eve, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini sat at the Gryffindor table! Can you believe it? They just sat there!"
"Really? Why?"
"Well, you'll never guess with whom; it was Hermione Granger, of all people! Apparently they've become good mates over the holidays or something…I think it's a bit fishy, but I don't have any proof. So they just sat there and apparently they wanted to stop the old feud and try making new friendships."
"How did everyone react?"
Daphne's heart thundered in her chest; things were not going well at all and she feared to hear the next thing that might leave the girl's lips.
"They invited them to the Gryffindor New Year's party for an initiation of sorts. And the most amazing thing happened!"
Daphne strained, hands clenched tightly, body stiff as she continued to listen in, watching Pansy's morphing expressions through a thick fog that had settled over her eyes.
"Well…it was quite funny, they had Draco and Blaise dress up as lions and sing the Gryffindor theme song…but really, it's not all that important." Daphne bit back a chuckle. "The important stuff happened right 'round midnight! Guess who snogged under the mistletoe!" Daphne's stomach plummeted and the girl didn't wait for her boyfriend's reply before continuing. "Malfoy and Hermione! Can you believe it? Apparently they got stuck under enchanted mistletoe, but, if you ask me, the kiss was a little too long for it to have been just the mistletoe. I mean, when Blaise and Malfoy got stuck, their kiss was a lot shorter!"
Daphne choked and coughed loudly, turning away from the couple in fear of being caught eavesdropping. Her eyes flittered over to Pansy, blinking away the tears from her spasms, and she pounded on her chest, as though it might help her breath again. Just as she cleared away the tears, Pansy marched back over, looking like an infuriated ghost; her skin was pale, yet her eyes glowed with merciless rage.
"Did you hear?" she shrieked, earning several glances from the surrounding students. "They…they … that fucking slag snogged my Draco!"
"Slag! Slag! You fucking wench, she's no slag!"
Daphne looked up to find a certain red-haired, red-faced Weasley glaring at her friend from several feet away. Groaning inwardly, she rubbed her face, knowing that this was going to only lead to disaster.
"Yes! She's a bloody slag! She … coerced…Draco into kissing her! She charmed him or made him drink a potion! Why else would he dare snog that disgusting slag?" Pansy shouted back, face reddening with growing fury.
Ron stepped forward; pushing away Harry's arms as the crowd drew back, forming a wide circle around the shouting duo.
"You're the slag!" Ron snapped, eyes flashing. "Hermione's not a slag! It's Malfoy who hexed her! He probably got fed up being with a dirty whore like you and, because Hermione is gorgeous and smart, he went after her! Of course, she rejected the slimy git, so he had to force himself on her!"
"Draco is not a slimy git, you blood traitor, and Granger is disgusting chit! She knows all sorts of spells; remember back in fourth year? She managed to get Krum and Potter under her spell! I'll bet she's using the same thing on poor Draco!"
"I wasn't under any spell," Harry said, although his words were immediately drowned out by Ron's cry of outrage.
"Shut your mouth, you bloody idiot! Why would she want a useless ferret?"
"What the hell would he see in a frizzy haired chit?"
"Draco's nothing but a Death Eater through and through; why would she want such a cowardly bastard?"
"I don't see what he would see in such a dirty Mudblood like Granger!"
"You bitch!"
"Arse!"
Wands were flung out, sparks flickering from the ends as both students' insults ceased; their eyes glowing with threat and menace, sparks flashing from the orbs, hands clenched tightly around their wands. Harry was gripping tightly onto Ron's shoulder, holding in check the fury that filled his eyes. Daphne had rushed to Pansy, trying to pull her friend back and avoid anymore embarrassing battles for the day.
"Stop it Pans, he's not worth it. We'll just go find Draco and find out what's going on," she said to her friend, squeezing the girl's shoulder.
"Ron, forget it; don't waste your time on her; let's go, find Hermione, and learn the truth. I'll bet it's just a bunch of rumours some first years started for fun," Harry muttered to Ron, voice shaking with restrained rage.
The duo shook with fury, wands pointed at each other in a menacing manner, eyes flashing darkly with concentration and rage. Just as Pansy lifted her wand, spell on her lips, Ron's wrist drew back, mouth opening in preparation of shouting out his spell, a loud shout broke through the silence that had ensued the fight.
"What is going on here? Mr. Weasley, Miss Parkinson! Put your wands away immediately!"
All eyes spun to face a rather livid looking Professor McGonagall, who was in the process of striding quickly down the stairs. Several students dispersed, heading back out, into the Great Hall, or in various other directions, while others remained to watch the backlash of Pansy and Ron's unrestrained anger.
"She insulted Hermione!" Ron snapped, gesturing to Pansy with his wand, several sparks flying out of the tip.
"He called Draco a Death Eater!" Pansy cried, mimicking Ron's gesture with the same resulting sparks.
"She called Hermione a Mudblood!"
"Be quiet, both of you! I do not want to know who said what or who started this, put both of your wands away now or I shall take away all of your privileges," McGonagall snapped, wand out and ready to disarm anyone who dared ignore her demand. She knew these students, knew that, unlike the previous years, they knew more damaging spells than they should know. They could easily cause pain and if she had to disarm one of them, so be it. They were trained in the art of war and she had to let them know that this was not the place to be practicing those spells.
"Ron, put your bloody wand away!" Harry said sharply, shaking his friend's shoulders.
"Pans, please, just put it away; it's not worth it," Daphne said, reaching out to grasp Pansy's forearm in an attempt to force the girl to lower her wand.
Ron's ears glowed a bright red, matching the vermillion of his cheeks, as his eyes lowered slowly in shame as he began to truly understand the situation. They were fools, both of them; fighting because of some stupid rumours. Sighing heavily, he lowered his wand, sliding it back into his pocket.
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said with a curt nod before turning her attention to Pansy. "Now, Ms. Parkinson, put your wand away."
Grumbling and cursing under her breath, Pansy saw that she would only come out looking like the arse in this situation. Grumpily, she shoved her wand back into the pocket of her coat before crossing her arms over her chest.
"Good, now, I want both of you in my office, immediately," the Headmistress finished, sending both students a pointed glare before spinning around and heading towards the mentioned destination. "And the rest of you, clear out! Don't you all have homework or studying to do? If I come back here and find all of you still congregated in this hall, you will all receive a month's worth of detentions!" she shouted to the crowd in the Great Hall.
Immediately, the students rushed towards their Houses, leaving only Ron, Harry, Ginny – who had made her way over when she had heard the commotion –, Daphne and Pansy in the center of the hall.
"You'd best do what you're told," Ginny said to Ron with a sigh on her lips. Her brother nodded and made his way after McGonagall, followed by Pansy, who had been convinced by Daphne. Ginny slowly turned to Harry once Ron was out of earshot and heaved a loud sigh. "Honestly, you'd think they'd all just ignore the bloody rumours."
Harry shook his head, running his hand through his hair to shove his bangs out of his eyes. He slowly lifted his head at the sound of footsteps and was rather surprised to find Daphne making her way over to them.
"Look," she began, fumbling with her fingers, "I just want to apologize for Pansy's behaviour. She can be a right idiot sometimes and doesn't always think before speaking; she can be a good person, but…well…she's…Pansy. But it doesn't excuse her for what she said; it's horrible that she stills uses that word."
Harry slowly blinked in reaction, unable to understand how this girl, a Slytherin and Pansy's friend to boot, was apologizing for the other girl's behaviour. He had heard that some of the Slytherins had changed ideals and sides after the war, but he had never expected any of Pansy's comrades to be in the group.
Ginny was first to break the spell of shocked perplexity, lips curling into a smile. "Thank you, uh…Daphne, isn't it?"
"Yes, Daphne Greengrass."
"Yes, thank you Daphne. I'm sorry for my brother's behaviour, too; he is a right git sometimes and doesn't really know how to think."
It was Daphne's turn to blink in surprise, mouth forming an O; she had not expected them to respond so kindly. She thought that they would try to chase her off or call her a dirty Slytherin chit. Slowly smiling, she nodded to the couple. "Thank you. I'll see you when classes begin," she added, turning away to head down to the dungeons.
In spite of the constant feuds between Slytherins and Gryffindors, maybe the walls were slowly breaking down. Who knew? It would take some time, breaking down the wall brick by brick, but, eventually, the wall would be no more and both sides would be able to hold out hands of friendship and alliance.
Daphne just hoped that nobody came along to ruin the growing alliance.
I know the chapter was a bit long, but I had so much I wanted to put it, and yet, I still had to abbreviate/cut out some things. Oh well. I hope that you all enjoyed it and please feel free to send me critical criticism as well as any editing that I may have missed while writing and rereading some sections. In case some of you are thinking "why doesn't she get a beta?" well...I take long enough to write a chapter, it would probaby take even longer if I got a beta, lol.
So yeah, reviews are more than welcome, criticical criticism suggested, and flames shall be tossed into the cold, wet Canadian snow that plagues Quebec every winter.
Thanks for reading!!!