Chapter 19
Clever
The return to the platform was a thrilling experience. The onslaught of emotions of the holiday break gave a startling need to return to normalcy. There was hardly time to touch a book at Grimmauld Place, much less review upcoming lessons for next term.
Hermione's parents walked with her through the portal at King's Cross Station down to the Hogwarts Platform. Students of every house and year were scattered about the entire place with no sense of order. Cages of beloved pets sat on the floor, narrowly missed by trunk trolleys or kicked over by feet.
The loud atmosphere was different than the quiet lull of her holiday. She was not accustomed to such volume. She winced as she passed a rambunctious group of second year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. The joy on their faces did little to cool the hot tension rising in her belly.
Not one letter was received from Draco all holiday. She wrote him every day, just as he asked. Concern of his safety left her on edge. It was possible the repercussions for his behavior earned him a punishment. The mystery lied upon the shoulders of Lucius. What would he do to his own son?
Hermione Granger looked over her shoulder to ensure her parents still trailed behind. They wore the faces and bodies of people similar to her, rather than the blonde lavish models they were at the start of break. They were happy, as always, to be there. Her parents loved the wizarding world. It pained her so much how little they were able to be part of it.
Her mum caught her eye and looped her arm around her neck and pulled her in close. "There are plenty Christmas' to go skiing." It was a voice that Hermione was not used to, but the comforting touch was the same. It was mum. "I'm just glad you could be there for your friend when he needed you. That's what makes you such a wonderful daughter."
"We're proud of you, sugarplum."
An instant blush took over her face. "Dad."
"I know, I know. You're grown now."
"But you'll always be our sweet little sugarplum." Her mum planted a soft kiss against her forehead.
"Must you insist on saying that name in public?" She tried to overcome her parent's obvious love of mortifying their daughter like she was not sixteen years old. Her love of them was endless. They were the two people who loved her without question or care what she was, but they were still her parents. They loved to make her blush.
Her dad pushed the trolley close to the first car right behind the red engine. There was an opened cupboard where other trunks were stuffed. The attendant grabbed the trunk off her trolley. Her pet crate where Drogon rested was tucked safely beside the trunk.
The attendant checked the latch on the crate. When met with her curious gaze, he offered an explanation.
"Somebody's cat got out and wreaked havoc on the carriage. Hoses of the engine were chewed. There a hole in the compartment with the trunks. Whatever it was chewed through it all," the attendant said. "We've searched the entire train. There is no threat to anyone's belongings. Your things will be safe. We just are ensuring all animals are secured."
Her eyes glanced at Drogon. He was curled up tightly, happy with his half crescent closed eyes. The thing looked so satisfied with himself. She, on the other hand, was horrified at his behavior. There was no doubt he was the animal in question that destroyed the train.
Godric, he was so much like Draco. No wonder her roommates thought it was him.
Hermione thanked the attendant for his dedication to their safety.
Her parents followed her across the platform. She scanned the crowd. A large group of red heads were in the crowd moving fast. It was the Weasley family. They were running late. Mrs. Weasley split up their goodie bags between her four children and Harry before she sent them on their way to deposit their school trunks.
Ron's eyes spied her first. "Mione! Hey. Nice to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger."
No charm was too strong to pass his notice. She'd revealed her plan to disguise her parents last year. He thought it was a good idea. Ron was the one to consult on strategy. He knew wizard's chess like the back of his hand. It was obnoxious how well he played. She was impressed by his lack of finesse in much of anything, but chess proved he was more of a strategist than any of the house.
Mum and dad waved their hands as the red head approached. "How was the ride in?" They asked.
"Good. We woke late, like usual." His eyes were brilliant blue. He smiled at Hermione. They wrapped in a hug. It was only a few days since she had seen him, but it was a new atmosphere on the platform. Hope and giddiness always filled their bodies. "Dad actually wanted to talk to yous. He was curious if you'd do dentist things to his teeth."
Her parents withheld their laughs. They knew Ronald did not know the proper terms for muggle things. The Weasleys understood that her parents tended to people's teeth. It was clear they were curious as to what it entailed.
"You mean a cleaning, Ron. He'd like a dental cleaning."
"Oi. That's right. Cleaning. He wants to know what it feels like."
Hermione's dad chuckled. "I'll go chat with him."
They congregated together: Ron, Arthur, Fred, George, her dad. They all listened as her father described what a cleaning entailed. Plenty of questions echoed throughout the group.
Ginny and Molly were in private counsel. Their lips moved rather quickly about something.
It left Hermione and her mum with a few stolen moments alone. The crowd pushed through toward the train. Time was close that it would depart. There were goodbyes through the air as children mounted the red carriages.
They drifted back, farther away from the Weasley's, to make room for the flash flood of students to the car.
Hermione had lost all attention of where they stood. It was in pureblood territory. The parents of pureblood dressed in garb dated past the last century. Their hats were pointed. Every one wore cloaks or robes. The haughty way their noses upturned confirmed it.
There was a pair of witches with a pair of equally blonde parents whom spoke softly. The mother was beautiful. One of the most beautiful witches Hermione ever saw. She was slender and graceful. Nothing about her was offensive. Soft. That's what she looked like. Just, soft and gentle.
Both her daughters resembled her. Their faces mirrored the same eyes and complexion. Though, only one exuded the same air of grace as their mother.
Hermione watched them for so long, one of them caught eyes with her. The face lit up in recognition.
It was Daphne Greengrass! She waved frantically. It caught the notice of her younger sister. The shy witch, a few years younger than them, gave a hint of a smile across her beautiful pink lips before she turned away in blush.
"Ello Hermione!" Daphne greeted her with an excited tone. She was the least regal of all the pureblood witches, except perhaps Pansy. The witch opened her arms and wrapped her in a hug. "How was Christmas? Did you get anything good? Is this your mum? Hello. How do you do? I'm Daphne."
Daphne gestured her sister to tread closer. "And this is my sister, Tori. It's Astoria the long ways. But we all call her Tori."
Hermione's mum smiled. "I just love your cloaks. They're very flattering. Such a pretty blue."
Astoria – Tori – blushed. She offered a quiet thank you in return. She was a lovely witch. So soft, like her mother.
Daphne preferred a bit of coarseness in her appearance. She wore bracelets upon bracelets, all of different color and texture. Her fingers were not decorated with the little black symbols, but on the train ride in, they would be. Her robes were blue like her sister's but there was a way she wore them that reflected her distaste for them, wrinkled and hung off her body rather than fitted to her curves.
"Mum said the Malfoy's are already here," Daphne stated with a knowing look.
To her side, Tori whimpered beneath her breath and looked away.
"Ooh. Who are the Malfoy's?" Mum asked. Her hands went to her knees as she leaned in close to whisper, "Do they happen to have a handsome son?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. Her face turned a violent red. "Mum!"
"Does she fancy him?" Her mum asked.
The whistle of the train was all that saved her from utter devastation. Hermione planted a quick kiss on her cheek before she was whisked away toward the carriages. She scanned for her father in the crowd, but she couldn't remember that his charm looked like.
Daphne and Tori waved to their own parents before thrusting into the works of the Hogwarts students. Through the crowd of rushing last minute boarding, Ginny was able to find Hermione and bring her to the compartment that Ron and Harry had set up shop in.
The train ride was uneventful. They enjoyed each other's company. Harry relayed that the Order supported the idea of his training with Professor Snape.
Hermione felt uncomfortable at the mention of his name. She was still tense about what happened with Madame Pomphrey. Stealing a person's memories was an awful crime. It stole parts of their mind. That was an exercise of power that was ethically wrong.
When he arrived at Grimmauld Place over the holiday, she was reminded all at once of what'd happened between them. Even in his eye, when he regarded her with his usual cold glare, there was that knowing in his eye that spoke to his knowledge of her secret.
Her stomach rolled and rolled. She tried to push the memories out.
"At least we don't have Malfoy to worry about, right Hermione?" Harry said. The eyes of the compartment turned to her. "I still don't know what you saw in friendship with him. He's nothing but rotten. The entire family is. Can't trust someone like that."
She crossed her legs. "We're still friends, Harry."
"How?" He adjusted his glasses. "How can you stand him? You know he's all we hate."
Ginny caught her eye. They shared a similar tension at the truth. Harry hadn't understood the look. The tirade on Draco Malfoy continued with his frustration a verbal signal.
"You know what he said about Molly. How can you forgive him?"
She bristled. "You've said more than your fair share of awful things. Just because it didn't disrespect anyone you cared about does not mean it does not carry blame. Should we not be friends either?"
Harry was surprised that he was not above reproach. His eyebrows raised over the rims of his glasses.
It was her that gave up personal time with her parents to tend to his wounds. It was her and Ron all year long that stood by his side while he fought them and questioned their loyalty to him. It was her concern that kept him alive this long.
"I've been a good friend to you, Harry. Trust that," she said as she grabbed hold of her jumper. "Next time, ask yourself how I might feel about it before you decide to share your opinion. You've done plenty I haven't approved of without concern of me or Ron. I'd expect the same extension of support that I give you."
The door slammed after her exit. She had not meant to close it so hard. It just slipped out her grip.
Hermione spent the rest of the time in the Prefect Carriage near the front of the train. She read in a book in a peaceful air. It calmed her thoughts from the anger she felt. By the time the train stopped in Hogsmeade Station, she was better. Her pulse was steady and not at all forceful.
She rode the carriages with Luna and Neville and Ginny. Harry and Ron stayed back to ride with Dean and Seamus, a good choice if he still had motive to talk about Draco Malfoy. Her wand itched for a hex.
"Godric, that was an awkward train ride," Ginny murmured. "Ron and I had to pretend that we hadn't heard a word of it as he steamed."
"I don't care. Harry cannot just complain about everything I do. I don't complain about him snapping at people and getting angry because he's frustrated."
"He's just anxious about his lessons with Snape."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It is always something with him."
"He'll apologize."
"I know he will," Hermione said. "I'm just not suffering while I wait him out."
The witches turned their attention to the coming term. They were both excited. Except for Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a waste of time. They were taught as though they were five years old. It eroded the skills they learned previous years.
Hermione was grateful for the DA. She wished that more students would be able to join. It should be widely taught in place of the joke of a class and that joke of a professor. The woman was not fit to be a teacher. She was a government hack. It was her sole purpose to discredit Dumbledore because of Minister Fudge's fear that he might lose power. She purposed awful acts to limit the lives of magical creatures throughout their shared magical world. How it was accepted by the school's board of governors was beyond Hermione's understanding.
The first professor they saw as they entered the castle was the witch herself. She was donned in a fuzzy feather boa dress of pale pink. Her silver pumps pushed out in front of her as she watched the students filter in through Merlin's Gate. The cold smile on her face gave the illusion of a clown's dead-eyed face. Now it was impossible to shake the image from her head.
Hermione caught scent of her perfume and almost vomited. The stench was so strong.
There was a feast when students returned from Christmas holiday. They were ushered into the Great Hall through the long corridors of Hogwarts. It was a grand time. Before the meal, all the students congregated, regardless of house, to reconnect with their classmates.
It was a free time for them to settle before the start of term.
Ginny was pulled away to her friends in Hufflepuff who were eager to hear of her father's recovery. It left Hermione alone in the biggest room of the castle with not a soul to cling to. She navigated through little groups. One was Neville with whom made polite, albeit jilted conversation. The last time she'd seen him was in St. Mungos where his parents resided. That was when she learned of Neville's parents' condition.
Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black, tortured them until they lost their minds. An awful fate. After seeing Gilderoy Lockhart locked within St. Mungos because of her friends, Hermione was convinced it was a fate worse than death to not recognize a single familiar face. Or to know what you'd accomplished in the world. To awake with a blank mind and fall asleep knowing it'd all be lost the next time daylight showed.
She casually scanned through the growing crowd as she lingered near Neville. Her eyes collided straight into a pair of stormy grey orbs. Breath caught in her throat. It'd been two weeks since she saw him. All at once she was swallowed by a suffocating wave to rejoin his side, kiss him gently, hold him in her arms until the flurry of his moods made her want to curse him again.
Draco wore a casual suit of solid black with a white shirt beneath. There was lively texture to his hair. No more slick oil to his head. The platinum locks were spiked in gentle peaks. The sharp smirk on his lip almost had her undone.
It was a sudden change to her body that Neville stepped forth with concern.
"Something wrong there, Hermione?" He asked.
She forced a smile though she was full of something other than politeness. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of air. Excuse me."
"Sure you don't need a spot of company?"
"Oh, no." She waved him away dismissively. It was so sweet. But not the time. "You go ahead and mingle. I'll be back in a bit."
A pep entered her step as she exited the Great Hall, now packed to the walls with everyone. It was a dense thick fog of breath. Hot and sticky. The moment she broke through the barrier, cool fresh air entered her nose like a gentle breeze.
She breathed in greedily. Whatever it would take to calm the heat of her body. Her hands fanned in soft gusts against her face to keep her from sweating out her shirt. It was just by pure chance she wore that purple lilac shirt Draco loved so much.
It hugged her torso tight. Her small breasts protruded from her body without the protection of a jumper. That was tied around her hips. It'd gotten too warm in the trek through the castle where all her classmates bodies joined the raging fire places in a sweaty hot prison.
Her jeans were high waisted with sailor buttons across her lower abdomen. They cut her silhouette rather drastic against the blurred edges of her school uniform jumpers and trousers.
Hermione ducked through to the cobblestone courtyard to gain a moment. All that time she hadn't heard steps behind her. Yet there was someone there when she turned back around.
He did not stop until his hands were on her. Silent and without a word, his lips pressed against hers. His warmth battled with hers. She threw arms around his neck without hesitation as his needy hands that groped at her exposed features filled her with the desire to be close. Their bodies pressed into one another. His belt into her waist. Her hands in his hair. His hands slapping her arse with a loud smack and holding onto the flesh as it were to fly away without it.
He backed her up against the stone wall of the castle. One palm rested at the base of her throat as his lips delicately kissed a line down the tender flesh. Her knickers lit with fire. She was filled with the deep need to press into him, too.
His body crushed hers. The weight of him entirely atop of her. She burned with tingles beneath his touch. Tickles of his wet lips as they danced across her cheeks, down the line of her jaw.
Hermione was completely ravished. Her clothes, her hair that he pulled from the plaits himself to toy with, her lips, her breasts. It drowned out the throbbing questions that her mind yearned to know in lieu of what pleasures he gave with the tips of his fingers.
The edge of her ear was teased with his ragged breaths. It did little to calm her.
Her fingers found the buckle of his belt. The cool metal splintered through the heat within her blood. A thrill to have the power in her own hand. She pulled the prong from its seat within his trousers with climbing need to feel what was within. Her mind wandered to the question of just what it felt like to have him in her palm. The source of his utter sensation grasped in her hand, only her, as his eyes stared into hers while waves of pleasure rippled through his body. She knew the profound effect it had on a person. Draco's breath caught as the weight of his belt fell slack around his waist. The button of his trousers was left for her to unfasten and delve to the depths of his boxers where a stiff staff awaited her grasp.
Draco's eyes were suddenly blown wide when her grasp finally took hold of his cock. Their eyes met. She was not ashamed of the way she stroked him. It gave her wicked delight to watch the black of his eye grow. She was all he saw. Pleasure filled his body, just as he'd done to her before, and she was the source of it.
He pressed his forehead into hers. His breaths, still ragged and uneven. The control to not shag him right there was close to being lost. A slight tingle of fear coursed her spine, the back of her thoughts, as to whether it was wise to shag Malfoy.
Of course, it was drowned by the lust. All the lust.
Her hand held the hot flesh in hand. It was long, a bit slender. She'd never seen a cock in the flesh, much less touched one. It was enthralling, from an academic standpoint of course, that the entirety slipped into an empty space of her own body. One that she never felt was empty.
She was convinced that once that shaft slammed inside, she would never be whole without it.
Her thumb swirled across the tip. Draco's hands clenched on her body. His pressure into her grip increased. His hips swayed forward with each stroke. He pressed into her. She watched his eyes swim with lust and need and urge, feelings she was familiar with. Thanks to him.
The tempo increased. His hips moved swiftly. In turn, she moved her hand up and down faster.
The sudden emergence of a sound across the courtyard halted their actions. Her hand dropped his cock with a gasp.
"Shit," she hissed.
He chuckled as he pulled his belt closed. She watched him guide his cock up to his beltline to avoid the awkward tent in his trousers. "Playtime's over."
She nodded. "Yeah." Godric, when did she get out of breath? "We should get to the feast before someone comes looking."
Her heart thrummed with excitement. The gentle caress of his fingers against her arm gave her a sudden ecstasy. An ache came to her breasts. The tips of her nipples fought so hard against her bra.
Draco lingered close as they made their way back to the settling calm of the Great Hall. The empty corridors were darkened. Few torches were lit at the time of the feast. Not a soul wandered their halls. Except them. "I see you didn't snap your leg on holiday."
Desire gone. A body devoid of sensation jolted clear thoughts to her mind.
That sped her pulse back up to panic. Her holiday was skiing and that's all he knew. He'd be irate if he discovered the truth.
"I told you I'm a talented skier," she answered.
"I researched this activity," Draco revealed. "It can be quite dangerous."
Did he just say research? A muggle topic that a Malfoy was interested in. Hell must be very cold indeed.
"I'm quite aware." Her eyes fell to the floor.
"I might have preferred a Weasley holiday in that shack had I known the risk of this sport of skiing."
Funny he should say so…
Crabbe and Goyle appeared at the end of the corridor just outside the Great Hall. They searched for Draco. Their bodies shifted one way then another. Crabbe kept looking back inside the room.
Hermione glanced to Draco. He rolled his eyes.
"They're just hungry," he explained.
They were not in a cheerful mood to greet her. It was the briefest acknowledgement of her from them, who once hated her with a passion. They moved like two little children whom needed to use the loo. Goyle shifted, more than once. Crabbe did a giddy little dance.
"Looks like they're ready to go."
Draco closely regarded her. "Find me later."
Later.
What would happen later?
She was glad that she asked her mum for birth control on holiday. They'd gone to her general practitioner just two days before to discuss what kind she would like. Hermione had no qualms about the pill. She was responsible enough to take on every day. It was no bother.
Of course, hiding it from her magical friends was the challenge. As it was in the muggle world, the knowledge of a girl on birth control spread like wildfire. It welcomed many stereotypes that were inaccurate and unflattering.
Hermione kept the pills buried within her trunk. Right when she arose in the morning before another in her dorm ever dared stir, she dug through to find the supply as quiet as could be managed. They would only give her three months' worth. Her mum would send them with an owl so that there was no lapse in her coverage.
It was a thankful blessing that her mum had discussed sex in the early years of Hermione's boarding school experience. Her mum opened a channel of communication. It made her feel comfortable enough to ask when she needed them.
Still, it was possible that the asking is what led her mother to assume there was a handsome boy in her life worth embarrassing her over.
With Draco, Hermione lost all willpower to resist. That was a slippery slope of trust. It was only responsible to protect herself when her body could not.
Ginny, once, expressed an interest for some because Hermione told her that it eliminated many painful menstrual side effects that Ginny suffered from once a month with a vengeance. Molly was so bothered. She flew into a fit about the natural order of the body. It was wrong to prevent children if that is what was destined.
Birth control was a hushed product within the magical community. It was even more so within the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley hated it. She refused to allow her daughter to spend her time laid beneath wizards if there was no outcome of it.
It was the reason that prevented Hermione from revealing to Ginny that she was taking it. What if it was mentioned to Mrs. Weasley? How would she react? Would she believe Hermione a harlot?
The feast carried on in jolly spirits. Nothing horrific happened over the course of holiday, and that was worth celebrating.
Hermione stole away many moments to gaze at the Slytherin table. She missed their conversation. It was a comforting slough of voices that were the background of many times with Draco.
He, Draco Malfoy, laughed with his house mates. They joked. Smiles upon their faces very obvious. Even Slytherin changed at the start of term. They missed their friends. Just as the same as the rest of the castle.
Harry was quiet during the feast. His eyes drifted over to Hermione more than once.
She put forth a great effort to ignore him, or to seem as though she ignored him. It was not her turn to apologize. She was not in the wrong. Harry was her friend, not a god in which she worshipped. His say only went so far when it came to things.
For a boy who hated being The-Boy-Who-Lived, he certainly loved the fact that most everyone listened to his every word like gospel. Apart from this year where the question of his credibility was called.
That was not her fault. She believed him. Cedric Diggory was killed by Lord Voldemort. Harry saw him rise from molten goo that gave him life, suddenly with renewed body to serve his purpose. She knew he was back. She supported him. It was her time that was spent defending his name in the mouths of others who doubted.
Hermione buttered her rolls. She chatted happily with Ron and Ginny and Neville. There were big smiles as everyone joined for a back-to-term celebration. Neville's anxiety wore off. He was far more talkative than she was accustomed.
It was the honesty, she believed, that changed Neville. There was no big secret. He didn't hide his shame from all his house mates. They all knew what happened of his parents. They met them both. The Longbottoms.
Harry and Ron sat on their usual side of the table. Hermione across from them with Ginny at her side. Neville sat in the newly occupied seat to her left. The poor wizard was a bumbling mess at times. He spilled over Hermione's water when he swung his arm.
He blushed as he pulled out his wand to clean up the mess. "Sorry, Hermione. I really am."
"It is just a spot of water." She shrugged. "There was no harm done."
Neville Longbottom was a tall, awkward boy with willowy limbs while his middle was filled in. His teeth were abnormally large. She sympathized with the self-conscious way he smiled small, without showing a tooth or how he fidgeted with things across his mouth so that he might prevent anyone from catching a glimpse.
If it wasn't so incredibly awkward, she'd offer to shrink them. It was not possible to be done on one's self without the risk of rather devastating results.
The last thing she wanted to do was insult the poor thing. He was already a jumble of nerves as it was. His newly settled nature was still to set.
"I learned about a fascinating flower recently. Used in the days of Merlin. Used by him himself, actually."
That was a cue for the rest of the group to stop listening. Neville went on for hours about plants. It was his thing. He loved Herbology. It was the one thing he talked about quite commonly.
"You know before holiday when somebody cursed the library - ."
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione exclaimed.
Thoughts went to her favorite books. Were they damaged? Was it going to be open this term? Why hadn't anyone notified her?!
Ron was just as shocked. "Who would curse the library right before holiday? That's the worst time. Why can't it be cursed before exams?"
She frowned.
"Was the strangest thing, yeah," Neville started. "A section of books, all about Merlin and King Arthur and the like just flew off the shelves. They swirled around the library. Broke out some of the doors, too. The corridors were filled with flapping flying books. You should have seen Malfoy running through the halls. The books just wouldn't stop. Not even for a shield."
The Gryffindor table laughed. All except Hermione. She was not pleased to hear such news.
It explained why Draco had been late for the train. It was the only explanation as to why she hadn't seen it.
"Curious." Her lips moved without much thought. "Why would someone do that?"
Ron still laughed. "Because it's funny, that's why. I'll bet Malfoy got a nice bunch of paper cuts."
"It's not very original."
He gave her a baffled look. "When's the last time you heard someone pranked with a book? Cant. Nobody pranks with a book. It's brilliant."
Her eyes flashed to the blonde across the tables. The fact that he'd made someone angry enough to curse him was not surprising. He was still Draco Malfoy, king of spoiled prats. However, the bizarre way it occurred had her baffled at what type of message it sent.
The table fell into a quiet as they fantasized about Draco's demise to a stack of library books, each with glittery eyes of a daydream.
"I found it in one of those books," Neville said softly.
He was met with a wash of confused eyes. Their colors from blue, to green, to brown.
His cheeks flushed red. "The flower. The flower Merlin used. I found it in one of the books when it dropped to the floor. Thought it might be interesting to study. Morgana was said to love the flower. It was her favorite. She kept it lined at every door."
"What's that, Neville?" Ginny asked before she tucked into a spoonful of pudding.
"She thought it made liars honest." He shrugged. "Morgana hated the corrupt and the liars. It was said that was the source of her power. That was the corrupt controllers would fear her, the banished and outcast would rise again. There is much speculation as to what she believed as banished and outcast. It's all lost to history. But the flower. That's where things get really interesting."
Neville then dove headfirst into a speech on the ancient flower. It was used in medieval times as a makeshift Veritserum potion, as people believed it forced the truth to be told, until the actual potion was developed for widespread use. It was woven in much lore about the times of Merlin. Most was impossible to be confirmed because of the age.
Hermione found her mind fading in and out of interest as he spoke. She wished she could muster some false appeal to the plant, but truly, she did not care.
Through the mist of her lingering thoughts of Draco in the courtyard and the moisture in her knickers, Harry's voice blared through as his lips moved in exaggerated motion. Her ears stopped replaying Draco's grunts and growls in her mind. Harry's words suddenly rang clear.
"I think we should call a meeting for tomorrow," he said.
"So soon." Hermione said in a hollow voice. If she knew Draco, and she was certain she did, he would want to spend time with her tomorrow. He'd already snogged her upon arrival. What were the chances he'd allow her to disappear away with her friends? "Harry, Umbridge is bound to be watching. She'll expect it."
"You'd rather have us wait around until it was suitable for her?" Harry questioned incredulously.
Of course, he was still peeved about the train. She was too.
It did not change the truth of their illegal school club. If they were caught, they'd all be punished. Harry would likely be expelled. She stood a good chance of the fact, as well, being a co-conspirator.
Hermione looked to Ron for support. Her eyes grew firm.
The shift in his seat said he read the message, but the glance over to his side where his best friend sat did not convince her that he was on board with her plan.
"Blimey, Harry. I need a moment to get used to classes again before we start meetin'." He shook his hand through his long red hair. "Used to sleepin' and eatin' on holiday, you know."
It was a logical excuse. One she wished she'd thought of.
Harry settled. His nerves flared at the idea of postponing when Hermione mentioned it, but Ronald had calmed him. She took that a bit personal. It hurt. Once she was the one he confided in rather than Ron. It was only last year that they quarreled to the point of refusing to speak to one another. Hermione held them together!
She glared with bitter feelings as he elected to wait until after classes started.
The prideful wizard was shoved so far up his own arse that he could not see reason!
Hermione was not going to sit there and take it. Not from him. She swung her legs over the bench. Her friends watched in confusion as she stood.
Ginny grabbed her forearm in a loose hold. "Where are you going?"
"Believe it or not, I've got a better place to be," she spat. Her eyes flared directly at Harry.
It was not often that she let her temper get the better of her. Not when it came to her best friend, whom she loved dearly and understood better than most. It was difficult to be questioned. Even more so, she was sensitive when his loyalty waivered. Her loyalty was deep. She'd give her life for him. There was a doubt in her mind that he would do the same for her.
The Great Hall was crowded. It was filled. Almost every seat in the room was taken. Students in their casual dress ate and sang and laughed and talked. Some, intermixed. Ravenclaws and Gryffindor were speckled throughout the room in each other's places. Huffles bled their way in, little by little.
Sadly none made their way to Slytherin. It was an entire table filled of the same house.
Terrence Higgs flashed through to her mind when he spoke of the tension between the houses. It wasn't always so obvious. Current tensions made things worse. And Draco. Draco made contention between the houses significant. His constant bullying left many scared of all the Slytherins – even most Slytherins were not comfortable around him.
It was made worse by the fact he was a Prefect. She expected this year to be about complete abuse of power for him. Prefects were in the power to assign detention and admonish and also, most importantly, deduct house points.
The fact that Pansy and Draco were made Prefects together only sealed the assumption that the power of the house cup might rest in the pair's hands. They were a deadly combination. Usually.
Fifth year turned in a different direction once Draco took her as his pet. His attentions all turned to her. She couldn't remember the last time he'd even teased a first year or hexed someone without cause. It took all his patience to control her life. It left time for little else.
Hermione felt proud. She was the one to bring sanity back to Hogwarts. With Draco Malfoy obsessed about her, she prevented loss of points and traumatizing bullying from reaching the students. What a positive! She'd never considered the thought before. It was just a fact that she acknowledged but hadn't considered as an outcome from their relationship.
She glided up to his section of the table with a softened glow about her. The pride should be hidden so as he wouldn't come to realize just how he'd changed for her. Then there was the chance to switch back to his abusive ways.
Draco's eyes landed on her with surprise. It was the first time she came to his table by choice, without being hustled over by Crabbe and Goyle. They were too busy in their meal to notice. She took the open seat by his side without a word. The only one moved by the action was the Slytherin Prince himself as the others were accustomed to her presence within their realm. They no longer held their tongues. She suspected most forgot she was there.
"Pet," he greeted.
She smiled softly as she reached for a pot of tea. Her hands lifted the lightened pot from its rest to pour the rest of the steaming tea into her cup. A few drips of milk were added in.
Daphne was situated down a few seats, but she made sure to acknowledge Hermione with a friendly wave. She was seated next to Pansy and Millicent. There was little pleasure in her features as Pansy's mouth flapped incessantly, no doubt about something lurid.
There was not much said between the pair during their meal. It was content. Not forced.
After the feast finished, the houses were dismissed to their common rooms for bed. It was late that the first feast of term ended. There was nothing opened within the castle, like the Library or the Pitch.
Draco walked with her through the corridors with what little time was left before curfew. Crabbe and Goyle walked behind. They were more like his pet than she. They barked when instructed. Though, she was not sure if they were toilet trained just yet.
"Are you certain you're a muggleborn?" Draco asked abruptly.
Hermione was rather taken aback. Her pace paused.
"Yes, of course I'm certain. Why ever do you ask?"
"Your parents."
"What about them?"
"There are a number of characteristics that they have that you do not share." Draco shrugged. "It is obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. How can you not detect such a blaring truth?"
The sound of the corridors was winding down to softer, hushed tones. Few still lingered outside their houses.
She was hesitant to ask. "What blaring truth?"
"You're adopted, pet."
How he arrived at that conclusion baffled her. Adopted? She was not. Hermione was the personification of her father. They were the exact replica of one another: curly brown hair, large teeth (she only had them shrank after an incident with Draco), slender and rather short.
No, she was convinced. Her parents were her parents.
If she'd had any qualms about her parentage, her mum was able to whip out an old VHS tape recording of Hermione's birth for good measure. Scarring for ten year old to see a woman in that position for the sake of sexual education. It may have been the human body, but it was not true to its description as one of the beauties of nature.
"What makes you think that?"
"I don't think that. I know. There is no chance that those people are your parents."
Hermione was blown away by this. By his interest, that was. "Why does it matter if I am or not?"
Crabbe and Goyle descended down the stairs. It was were the Slytherin dormitory lived. Gryffindor Tower was upward. This was the place that they were expected to part.
Draco, of course, lingered longer than his two henchmen. His hand rested on the railing beside her. She was two steps higher than him. They, the only two behind their classmates. The emptiness echoed the last sounding steps as the Winding Staircase fell to silence. Creeping cold filtered in through the air. The night was pitch black.
There rose a strange strength in him. Something she hadn't noticed before term end.
"Your blood, pet. Don't forget about your blood," he said softly. "There may come a time when it will be all that matters. And you might not be one of them after all. If you were adopted by muggles but descended from wizards, your blood status would not be of a muggleborns. It would be a half-blood. Maybe even full." He ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shifted around the corridor, as if uncertain they were alone.
Tension built in Hermione's tissues. Her heart leapt to a full jig.
There was truth written in his face that made the darkest thoughts jump to the light. She knew that he knew Voldemort was alive. It was only by chance that she believed he'd seen the Dark Lord, but now she was thoroughly convinced the Malfoy's were deeper in the ranks than she previously believed.
It was quite possible that Draco saw the demon on holiday. At his home. Where word of her might have reached their ears. The fact his parents knew made it all more real. There were ears all over the castle that leeched back to unknown sources. One of them, Voldemort.
"What are you saying, Draco?" Her teeth nibbled upon her bottom lip.
It was agony. Pure agony to see the truth rise up through his face like a wave ready to spill its contents upon the floor and then retreat away in a split moment.
He shook the words out of his mouth. "Nothing. Just…just learn to listen to what I say, pet. I'll be keeping a sharper eye on you this term."
And with that, he plunged into the descending stair.
She trudged up the flight of stairs with a rock within her belly. It weighed down her thoughts. All she concerned herself with was the frightening way that Draco was able to scare her without saying a thing. It was the implication. Nothing was for certain. Did he ever see Voldemort? Draco never said so. There was the assumption since he did not rebuke Harry's stance. Cedric Diggory's death was wildly disputed by the entire castle. One person who never spoke against Harry's version was Draco Malfoy, the one wizard who opposed everything Harry said just because Harry said it.
Her palms grinded into her eye sockets. "Ugh."
"There you are." A voice emerged in the corridor. "Ron's been looking everywhere."
"What for?" Hermione asked as she allowed Ginny to grab hold of her hand and tug her down toward the portrait.
The witch muttered the password for Gryffindor Tower before she turned back to Hermione and said, "Did you forget about patrol? He wanted to get a move on so that he might get some sleep tonight."
Oh, right.
Ron and she were on patrol. Alone. In the dark.
Why hadn't she mentioned it to Draco? He was going to throw a fit if he found it out!
Yet another thing she had to keep straight if she wanted things calm between them.
The night was frigid. Winter winds pushed through the ancient walls, seeped in through the cracks, and dissipated into the air of the castle. Hermione wore the thick black jumper Draco had given her, school robes and a scarf just to stop the onslaught of shivers.
Ron slipped one knitted jumper overtop his head. One. He hadn't a hat nor mittens.
"You do realize it is January, Ronald. Do you not?"
The wizard simply shrugged. "'snot that cold, Mione. Perhaps you've just got thin skin."
"I've the same three layers of skin that you have got. Besides, you can't claim that blistering cold is just a manner of perspective. It is winter. It's supposed to be cold."
They decided to start on their floor and work the way down. The upper levels of the castle remained warmer than the lower ones. It helped Hermione acclimate to the frigid temperature.
Hogwarts was a brilliant place of light during the height of day. But at night. It was eerie. Filled with memories, good and bad, that lurked around every corner. Shadows grew nightmares out of vision. Whispers of breath followed a turned back. Distant howls reverberated.
Hermione and Ron both held their wand in front of their faces as they scanned each section. Every nook where a student might snog. Hidden alcoves were the favorite places of those whom sneaked puffs off a cigarette. Once there was a party after hours. Hermione had not been the patrol to break it up, but the outrageous idea of holding a party out in the abandoned castle was too shocking to forget that she almost considered it for the DA.
Patrol was thick at night. It was too much of a risk with the high probability of being caught. It was easier to hide in plain sight during daylight.
"You alright there, Mione?"
"Yes."
"You know Harry is just tired. He never sleeps. Always dreams about Cedric and the graveyard."
"I know," she echoed in a hollow voice. It didn't sound like her.
Ron sighed. "He just feels it, you know. He says there is a divide. It's tearing us apart."
She knew what divide was between them. It was the only one that mattered to Harry Potter.
"If he just stopped insisting on Draco being the reason, the divide might not happen at all."
"Come on. Don't talk like that." Ron frowned. His red lips sloped down in exaggerated length. "There is no divide. You're one of us. Always will be."
The topic was dropped.
Neither liked to discuss what was happening. They were being pulled their separate ways even with the same allegiances. The world required different paths. And it hurt like hell to be pulled from her friends. Harry was her best friend. Ronald was her confidant. Ginny was the first girl friend she had. They were all the best she could have hoped for at the entrance of Hogwarts. She met the very people she would lay down her life for at age eleven. That was how deep they bonded.
Draco Malfoy changed all that.
The truth behind his motivations remained unclear. Ginny believed it was lust and male domination and jealousy that motivated him to control her. There was plenty of evidence to support the theory. Still, there was the fact that he was not consistent. The warnings between the words that he said convinced her otherwise.
But the more she thought on it, the more difficult the idea became.
Why would Draco Malfoy risk his life for her? Their friendship guaranteed him beneath a microscope. His actions were undoubtedly watched. For a silly game of torture the mudblood, it was not worth it.
Even if he did love her – why would he risk his own life?
It made no sense.
Hermione concluded that it was an effort to protect her. The attempt to 'tame' her as he coined it was the way to appeal to Death Eaters that she might not be as dangerous or loyal as they thought. If Draco, her longtime enemy, was able to control her, her life might be spared the curse of death.
"You'll always believe me, won't you, Ronald? Even if the whole world says different, you would trust me."
He gave her a curious glance. "The whole world says Voldemort is dead. Doesn't mean he is, does it? Just means that they're too scared to believe the truth."
It did little to help her nerves.
"But what about me? Would you believe me?"
Ron stopped. His blue eyes met hers. The desperation within her must have bene palpable. He put a hand on her shoulder. "You and Harry are the only ones I'll always believe in. No matter what."
She could have cried. She wanted to.
What had she done to deserve a best friend like him?
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're my best friend, Ronald. You really are."
He flushed a bright red and shrugged off the embrace with a bit of jumbled words. It made her smile.
They descended the Grand Staircase for the next round of patrol. It was a large expanse of the castle. So many places for rulebreakers to hide. As the two Gryffindor Prefects accustomed to patrol together, they had a routine. Ronald took one wing. Hermione took the other. They covered twice the ground. It helped them return to bed sooner, which was all Ron cared about because he needed as much sleep as possible to be functional.
"See you." He waved as he walked down another flight of stairs.
Hermione was left alone on the fifth floor. Bright light poured out of the end of her wand. It penetrated the pitch black of the castle. Torches lit aflame as she neared their realm. Their charm only worked when someone approached near.
She walked by. Torch after torch lit itself and extinguished as she passed.
The castle was silent. Still. There was only the faint scent of smoke from previous lit fires. It still had that grit of ash in the air. Small particles lingered dense enough that it coated her tongue as she breathed.
"Bullocks." The light of her wand dropped as she vanquished the air. Bitter ash was not a delicious taste.
Before she was able to summon another light for the end of her wand, a single torch at the end of the corridor ignited alive. Her eyes absorbed the ring of flame. There was no one there within the torches area.
She started forward. The torch doused itself.
If it was Fred and George out of bed setting traps for their childish pranks, she was going to scream.
Hermione rounded the corner. Nothing but darkness split through. Then, at the sudden end of the next corridor, another torch ignited. Still, there was no one below to show for it.
She dashed off after it, determined to catch whoever thought it was fun to sprint through the castle after hours like some dementor and deduct their house points. Her shoes slapped against the floors. The length of her hair, the one time she opted for her hair down, bounced against her back. It was sure to be tangled by the end of it.
Another torch lit halfway down. It was behind the statue of Boris.
The Prefect Bath. Of course.
She brandished her wand ready to control the situation when a bit of something caught her eye. At the base, between Boris' legs was a fluffy brown tail flickering back and forth. The long caramel and chocolate hairs belonged only to one.
"Khalessi," Hermione chastised. "You naughty girl. Were you the one running these corrdiors? I thought you were a student."
The cat emerged. Her body swayed, in a way that a cats did in comfort, as she approached. She swatted her hand at Hermione.
She kneeled down and elected to give the cat a scratch. "Oh, well. What can I expect? I know your master."
The door of the loo creaked open. Out strode the one and only.
"Finally." His arms went up in the air. "Why does it take you and that Weasel so long to do anything? One would think you were stopping off to snog somewhere."
Her jaw dropped. "What are you doing? It is past curfew."
"My pet has patrol which means I've got patrol," he stated, then sneered. "I might have expected her to tell me herself that she had patrol with the Weasel but what can I expect?"
"Draco, I really meant to say something."
"When? It's not like we spent all evening together with plenty of opportunity."
She frowned. "I'm sorry."
It seemed to settle him. His shoulders relaxed in their sockets.
He shoved his hand into his pocket. "Will you ever learn to listen?" He asked with a sigh.
Hermione risked touching his arm. "I've gotten better, don't you think? I wrote everyday just like you asked."
He thought for a moment.
His scent overtook her senses. She breathed it in. It only happened when she was close to his body, the heat and the smell of his cologne created something powerful. Like a haze. Her mind relished the sensation of it inside her lungs.
"You never mentioned if you met any wizards on holiday."
She pursed her lips together. "I think you know the answer to that."
His hand, without thought, wrapped around her shoulders. It pulled her close to his body in an awkward side-hug position. "What a shame. I met scores of witches on holiday."
The comment had her floored.
She dipped out of his hold and brought a hand between their bodies to hold him away from her. "I beg your pardon?"
A wicked smirk overtook his mouth. There was devilish delight in his eyes. They danced around her face with comfort as she steamed. No, not steamed. Boiled. Frothed.
"Just checking," he said.
Hermione pushed his chest away with all her strength.
"You arse!"
She stormed away from him. That joke was so far past the line. All that she gave up for him and he was toying with her?
He followed after her, smile set so far in his features it was impossible to see the end of his delight. "Oh. Come now, pet."
"You complete wanker!"
"Oh, yeah? Does it make you angry?"
The sneer made her even more furious.
"You know it does!"
"Show me," he said. "Show me how angry."
All at once, she felt herself buried against his chest, lips smashed against his in a furious kiss. Their teeth clashed. Her hands pulled at his hair. The savage ripping of her robes told his own frustration as he scoured through their many folds to the opening.
Hermione felt her anger develop into something else. Her lips filled with need. She couldn't stop for a moment. He, too, pulled her so tight against his chest that it felt as though they shared the same ribs.
"Does it frustrate you that I can do whatever I want?" He growled.
Her thighs shuddered. The deep burn of his voice resonated deeper within her body.
The response was instantaneous.
His taste was too sweet to lose. She nodded. Tongue, delved into the soft flesh of his mouth.
He retracted and nuzzled his lips against her ear. "Say it."
"Yes." She breathed. "I hate it."
"I bet you do." He smiled as he took her mouth with his once more. It was his tongue that took lead.
She ran her fingers round the base of his neck. His collar fought for dominance, but she thrust her touch beneath it. The tendons of his throat were taut. The throb of his aorta was easy to feel amongst his flesh. It bumped along rather quickly. Her heart matched a similar beat as both of his hands gripped her arse and pulled her upward.
Every part of their bodies were roughly pushed and shoved together, in discomfort and pure pleasure. Their anger bled into the other through touch. Her fingertips fed the source to him, he fed it back.
It was inevitable that a moan would escape. The flutters of her body were too much. Her throat ruptured the quiet with her breathy moan.
Draco's eyes absorbed every ounce of her pleasure as it washed across her face. He noticed it all. Her lips, her throat, her eyes.
"You like being my pet, don't you?"
The question was rather surprising. Even in the light of what they were doing.
"Only when you've got one," she replied.
He smirked. "Clever girl."