Chapter 31

Lessons in Being Hermione Granger

The early morning came too soon. Light trickled through the part in the curtains. Hermione rose to her elbows. Khaleesi and Drogon were gone from the bed. They must have disturbed the curtains when they left.

Her eyes burned with each blink. Late night note exchange was not such a good idea in the blaring light of the next day.

She shook off her exhaustion and readied for the day as the rest of the fifth year Gryffindor witches slept peacefully. The same tired old routine of every morning as she was the single standout amongst her peers. Her feet slipped into the school issued trousers. They were long and black. The wide legs gave enough room for a pair of leggings beneath on cold days.

The full-length mirror showed a different image than what she imagined the trousers as. They were baggy. Her thighs were lost to the material, as was the slight curve of her waist and hips.

She frowned and pulled a full four centimeters of fabric from the side of her thigh.

Hermione tossed her jumper to the bedspread. The brown knitted thing morphed her body into a true shapeless body.

Her fingers slipped a small pill between her lips as she took a last look in the mirror. It was better – the white shirt. It fitted her torso. She slipped the school robes over her arm, only to be tossed on at the last minute.

The portrait hole opened to an empty corridor. The early morning held a dense chill. It prickled her flesh, but she refused to let its cold seep deeper.

The top of the grand staircase came into view. A wizard leaned against the rail, flashed a grin as her pace slowed, and toyed his brow at the sight of a creeping pink blush across her cheeks. His leg pushed off.

Sconce light glinted off the tops of his shoes. Freshly shined, by the look of it.

"Morning, pet."

Her heart fluttered. It spread to her belly where its strength gained. "Good morning, Draco."

"Fancy a spot?"

"Are you asking me out?" She smirked.

He shrugged. "Sure. I know a place."

The subtle thrill down her forearms to each extension of her fingers was intoxicating. It was not lust or desire. Those were powerful and strong. This was bubbly, beneath her skin, like the faint touch of butterfly wings.

Her hand gripped the rail to keep from trembling in excitement. She stared at it in bafflement.

She was no longer a virgin, but this was what turned her belly.

Draco walked close, as always. His shadow above her head loomed in its typical shape. The routine all too familiar, if not for his personal escort and playful banter.

What was not familiar: the slide of his hand down her arm until it reached her dangling fingers.

Her eyes went wide. Hand holding? She forced her breath steady and attention ahead. If it was given focus, it might spook him away.

Hogwarts was dead that early. The echoing of their footsteps battled the groan of the moving staircase, the mischief Peeves cackled about, the whistling of wind as it battled the stone walls, but there were few sounds of life. Not a soul to interrupt them.

She squeezed her hand tighter against his, if only to support the action.

"Is this what you always wanted?" He murmured under his breath. "The way Krum made you feel."

Her eyes flicked upward at his probing stare. The swirling gray affection reflected in silver pools staggered her step.

"Yes," she gulped. That look. That…love.

Maybe it was in the way she moved, or an emotion slipped through that she hadn't thought to withhold.

All at once, they were tangled in each other's arms, clinging for dear life, lips locked open with tongues twisted together, dry shagging in the middle of school.

His mouth tasted sweet. Just like she remembered, the allure of his cologne, the thick tongue thrust into her mouth, his hands through her shirt, one clutched at her bum. It absorbed her senses. She was lost in his gravitation. Ensnared by the fire of his touch, burning its way through her, to the ripening slick of her core.

She whimpered into his mouth. He groaned in satisfaction.

"I want you," he said. His hips thrust against her torso and showed just how much.

Her insides trembled alive. "You have me, Draco."

"No. I meant now. I want to take you right this second."

"I love you, but we cannot shag in the hallway." She spoke right into his open mouth.

His hands pulled her against his chest, away from the wide center of the corridor, against the wall out of direct sight. "Now I've got to have you."

He was so quick with his fingers. They slipped between the loose waistband of her trousers into the warm depths below. The brush of fingertips against her panties sent her reeling with excitement and fear.

Hermione gasped each breath. He pulled at her with need. His lips pulled the air of her lungs like there was none left to survive. It only fed her dark desires strength to overtake her senses and allow her to surrender to them.

Be claimed, in public, for all to see just how desirable she was.

She shook her head away from those thoughts before they were too powerful to control. That was a descent too deep for her to plunge into.

One look at Draco convinced her that he was ready to take a head dive straight for that bottom with her.

He's lost himself in your aura. Blaise said.

The absence of thought in his eyes, the rupture of logic with blatant desire swallowed him whole. Draco was lost. He was not himself. Not a wizard, dark or light. He was moth, she was flame. She'd thought it the opposite by the helpless way she fluttered to him, but now that the emotion was at the front of his face, she realized. She burned her friends. She burned everything – the potential of death, of being imprisoned, of being used – all for him.

It was him that did not stay away. Little pale wings flew him right back to her dazzling light.

Power. That was what it was. She tasted its sweet oil across her tongue.

Draco was putty within her grasp.

She burned brighter. Bold Gryffindor courage roared in deafening volume that even her fear turned tail and ran from its cry.

She was power. She was flame. She was all it meant to be untamed.

"I love you," she said. A shudder shook the wizard. Wide eyes absorbed every motion of her lips, the curl of her smile, and watched the base of her tongue run along the bottom of her lip.

She pushed him back against the stone wall. He remained there.

Putty. She thought to herself.

"Let me show you." Each word was soft and slow.

Her hands ripped his belt apart. Two bits of leather bounced as they remained unlatched in his belt loops.

The pair of gray eyes widened as she unzipped his trousers to unleash the full-grown erection from its constraints.

"Hermione." He cleared his throat. The hands at his throat struggled against the knot of his tie. "I don't think -."

"Quiet, Draco. Or someone might hear," she murmured as she lowered to her knees.

She took the length of his shaft in his mouth. A sharp intake of breath surged through his lips. Her mouth watered against his throbbing cock. It twitched and hardened within the moist warmth of her mouth.

There was power at the back of her throat. She pushed him back over and over, each time running her tongue along the base of his cock to illicit a strong groan from above.

His head fell back. Two hands laced against her scalp – pulling the hair free from the plaits. They anchored onto her as she bobbed back and forth.

Despite the position on her knees before him, it was she who held all the power over him.

When her pace slowed and mouth loosened against his cock, a hollow guttural sound of sadness loosed from his throat.

"Shhhh," she hummed. Her lips murmured against his warm wet shaft as she continued to stroke him. "You wouldn't want to get caught now, would you?"

He struggled to control his pleading desire with his thoughts. "I'd be king of this school," he groaned.

She swirled tongue down his cock. Her lips curled in a devious smile.

"I'd have to stop." Her voice rang in a sing-song way.

"No." His hands tensed against her head. The faint begging of his lips filled her with satisfaction. "Don't stop. You feel so good."

In one fell motion, the cock was shoved through her lips deep into her throat with a stronger motion of her tongue against its underside. It sent him falling back against the wall. He did not know what to do with himself.

At one point one hand dropped hold of her curls and ran through his own hair in disbelief at the sight before him.

A tightening filled her mouth. His balls tensed. She felt the rocking of his hips straight into the silken depths of her throat as she moved. His climax was near.

Though, sounds filtered through the corridor. Students were nearing the Great Hall for breakfast.

Draco's eyes were wide. He looked around the rounded stone corridors all while she worked at him with a growing smile.

For once, he was afraid. She was unabashed in what they did and he, the nervous one.

She let him twitch and fidget with worry at the growing sounds of their peers descending from the depths of the castle while her lips firmly gripped his cock. All while he was stuck rocking his hips against her mouth like his life depended upon it.

"Shit," he groaned in a whisper.

There were people within the corridor. Their footsteps echoed through the long-stretched space disturbing the soft slurps of her mouth against Draco's trousers.

His climax reached him fast. His hand shot out and gripped her shoulder hard as hot semen spewed into her mouth. Its taste was sudden, almost startling her gag reflex on its way down the back of her throat.

He breathed heavy through his lips as she eased away. His hands quickly zipped up the open fly.

Hermione held a toying smirk. She leaned against the wall taking time to assess the taste in her mouth (not as salty as she was led to believe).

Her mouth was warm, jaw almost sore. She rubbed at it gently as some seventh years walked by.

None noticed them. Soon enough, they were alone again.

Draco heaved his breaths once more. His calm violently disrupted by her game of bobbing the knob.

"That." He said after a long silence. "Was brilliant."

It took her by surprise that he was not cross for being in a vulnerable position to possibly by caught in. She flashed a cheeky smile.

Maybe this mood could carry on longer.

She shrugged. "I figured it was better than those knickers you usually use to beat the bishop and all that."

The rest of the morning was bliss. They could not contain their smiles, often smirking behind their tea mugs or taunting the other with a quirked brow. Draco handed over a tray full of tarts for her to peruse just before Crabbe's hand landed on all of them.

"Hey!" exclaimed from the wizard's grumbling speech.

Draco clicked his tongue.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise when he pushed the display forward. "Thank you."

He swallowed his mouthful of apple. Never had she wished to be a piece of fruit so bad.

His finger pointed to a few select ones. "Those are smoked trout. I think." He glanced over his shoulder. "Sausage rolls are down there. Do you want me to pop a few?"

Was oral sex all it took to get a wizard like this?

She swallowed an all too satisfied grin. If that was all it took to make Draco treat her like a goddess, her knees would become her new position.

"These are fine, Draco."

He still hopped up and grabbed a roll for her. It was placed delicately on her plate. "Now you don't have to choose."

"I like sausage rolls too, mate," Goyle poked out.

The tops of her cheeks burned. "Would you like mine, Goyle?"

"Nah. I'll fetch one meself."

Draco was unbothered. He watched Hermione tenderly eat the pastry. When their eyes met, he gave a small smile before he turned back to his plate.

They were almost done with their meal when Daphne emerged. Her hair was plopped in a large bun atop her head. Thick rimmed glasses sat on top of her nose. There was a dullness to her face, as was the perky smile in usual composition. Red flesh stained around her eyes.

Hermione squinted. That was not the Daphne Greengrass she knew.

The blonde witch fell into a seat. "It's over."

"Over?" Hermione leaned close. "What do you mean?"

"Adriano. It's over." The witch sniffed.

The necklace. The one he'd gotten her for Christmas. It was missing from her neck.

"How?"

Draco was drawn to the commotion. He subtly slipped against her side to listen. His palm gripped the back of her bench just behind her bum.

Hermione stuck her tongue at the roof of her mouth to prevent something inappropriate from spilling out. Instead, she focused on her friend whom was lost in a daze of heartbreak with the recounting of a letter received late in the evening with a polite explanation that he'd met someone else and was no longer excited by her letters as he was to see the other person.

"Can you believe that? Just throw it all away. For a stranger! We've known each other for a year," Daphne explained through restrained sobs. Ink-stained hands covered her mouth. "I don't know what to do. I-I thought he was it. I'd talked to my father about a courting contract being drawn up and everything."

Courting contract. That was what Draco was under with Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister. She'd never asked what happened with it. All she knew was that they did not associate.

She touched Daphne's shoulder. "He's a wanker. To toss away something with you for just a spot of fun. I bet she won't even like him back."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely. He'll be sad and lonely soon enough. Then he'll be crawling back."

"Salazar. I hope so." Daphne exhaled. "I'd hate to have to explain to my father what happened."

Hermione raised a brow. "You'd take Adriano back."

The witch paused mid-sip at the tone of her voice. She sputtered against the rim of the cup. "Well, yeah. He's from a great family and is so handsome. My father would be ashamed if he knew Adriano rejected me. It would mark me as an unfavorable match."

All at once, Hermione was too aware of Draco's closeness. The lingering of his attention at their conversation though he pretended to be absorbed in Crabbe's challenge that he could eat his plate faster than Goyle. Best three out of five.

Her throat was tense. "Oh. I suppose, it isn't the same for nobility as it is for us commoners, is it?" She tried so hard to seem genuine. It was not said to be spiteful, but she could not hide distaste once it planted inside her tongue. "A rejection is bad for a family line. For the heirs to your estates."

"I hate it," Daphne whined. "But I have no choice. My family depends on me. I'm the eldest. What choice do I have? Let my family estate be passed down and lessened."

"Of course. It's barbaric," Hermione marveled.

"It's tradition."

It was a short while before Daphne had to go down the Slytherin table to speak to Tori, no doubt to share the devastating news.

A tautness was at the back of Hermione's throat as she returned to her own space at the table. Draco nibbled at a piece of traybake from the edge of his fork. His eyes stared straight ahead.

She gulped in acknowledgement that he'd overheard. "I see the situation with Astoria was more precarious than I realized."

He swallowed his mouthful with careful consideration. "As I tried to explain, it was not done in romantic interest. It was expected of me, yes, but it was the right thing."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"It is not in your nature to trust me," he explained. "The risk to our relationship would have been too high. Had I revealed my father's expectations you'd have – best case scenario – cursed me or – worst case – cursed her."

She opened her mouth to counter each one of his points with their inaccuracies, only when she considered what she'd actually have done, the truth was not too far off.

Draco knew she did not trust him. He did what he had to protect himself. And Astoria, a blameless witch dragged into their mess without consent.

Her face winced. Shoulders slumped. "You're right. I wouldn't have believed you. And if I'd known you intended to go through with it, I'd have cursed you harder."

"I know."

It did not dampen their day. Nor their spirits. Life became beautiful that way.

One day in the library, Hermione found her mind wandering to investigate the Ministry of Magic. She knew Harry's dream was somewhere within the building. He described what he saw when he dreamed or rather when he opened his mind to Voldemort.

She doubted he tried hard in Occlumency. He spoke too often of the visions.

He'd taken to deflecting her line of questioning about his lessons.

It enraged her to realize that he was letting his strength fall to the wayside. After everyone had put so much on the line for him to succeed, and endured no shortage of pain for it, Harry would give up so easily.

She could throttle the idiot.

Dumbledore and the Order looked down on throttling – though she was convinced she could give a stirring presentation on just why it'd be justified that might change their minds – so, she was forced to harness that energy into something else.

Books on the Ministry were in the library. They were limited in information, but descriptive on their appearances and uses.

She tries to find a long hall that Harry described but the entire Ministry was built of long winding halls.

Her arms snapped over the weight of the book closed. It was useless.

The last game of Quidditch for Slytherin team was nearing. The frequency of their practices intruded on Draco Malfoy's free time.

Khaleesi had lashed out by shredding all the curtains of Goyle and Crabbe's beds in retaliation for all their absences aligning. There was no one to care for her in the interim. His mother sent treats and toys. They were rarely touched, if not consumed whole in a matter of seconds.

One evening practice was the most difficult with Professor Snape on the Pitch for over an hour. They were drilled with strength training. Repeated catching of Quaffles, trick maneuvers on their brooms that left their fingers raw from hanging on so long, sessions on the ground in a haunted game of 'dodge the bludger'.

He dragged his limbs into the library to brush up on his Care of Magical Creatures notes before their exam the next day.

The satchel on his shoulder pulled him down to the table chair. He slipped the heavy weight onto the ground with the sharp hiss of resistance in his muscles.

He propped up the textbook on the table to ease the task of reading. His eyes followed along with the lines of text that detailed the creature Puffskeins. They were silly pets. Their worth was only described for potioneers as their hair was magical. It was often used in brews.

It was a boring animal. He did not care for their unnatural tongues. Not like a snake, but uselessly long and talented in finding things to eat.

Puffskeins managed to use their tongues to eat bogeys. Disgusting. Whilst their owners slept nonetheless!

A shudder went down his spine.

He despised the thought of having anything done to him against his will. By a pet, a person, a curse.

His fingers ached as he stretched them. The wood of the broom was smooth, but it still cut at the skin. The gloves eased the blisters, the cuts. The aches, though, were not relieved.

He finished his class reading as he massaged their little muscles until the pain melted into compliant dull resistance. Better than the sharp splitting pains up his forearms.

All the strength of his forearms was needed for…other activities if he hoped to catch Granger off guard on patrol. They were not originally assigned together. Bloody Macmillan had to make up for a sick week.

Draco had planned an entire situation: checking a hidden passageway for troublemakers, brushing up against her in the perfect way, a needy kiss he'd needed since breakfast, and things were sure to continue from there. He had a blanket shrunk in his back pocket just to protect their bodies from the layers of filth on the floor.

If he was honest, he would be exhausted if he hadn't the extra frustration of being out of control in his desires while still being in control of his other concerns.

The letters from his parents had not stopped. Their relentless tirade of his socialization with Granger began to wear on his patience. It only annoyed him, tossing their letters into fire rather than drafting a response that would fall on deaf ears.

They thought he was weak.

They thought it beyond his grasp.

Granger was too big a risk to take, by way they told of it.

What could either of them know what it meant to be bound to someone? Did his parents know what magic he held over her? The strongest, smartest witch of the age was his…all his.

Draco slammed his textbook closed. He tossed it into his satchel and proceeded to find book to draft a research parchment on. It was required that it not be about any subject taught in school.

The topic was of their own choosing. A suggestion to expand their learning scopes, as McGonagall stated, to better round their minds. An entire three rolls of parchment was no small feat. Goyle would be lucky to have two. Crabbe's hands moved at a snail's pace; it'd take him all year to write three rolls.

He walked the rows of the library for an idea to spark from the title of one of the many books. His eyes meandered the spines. Some with exquisite lettering and a layer of dust on their binding told him that it was too difficult a subject to brooch. Especially in a school of numpties.

The book levitated down from the high shelf. Its weight dropped to his arms with a surprising depth.

"Just once -." A loud voice suddenly cut through the row right next to his. The book slipped from his strength onto the weakened, sore muscles of his forearms. He bit his tongue to keep from exclaiming an expletive.

He recognized that strong tone of the female weasel. His mood soured quickly.

"Merlin, Gin. I about cursed you," Granger snarled.

"Good thing I caught you with a book, innit?"

Draco's attention heightened. He did not know Granger was in the library. She was not in her usual spot. Nor did he think to look harder.

He'd been too distracted with his thoughts of tonight to think of the present.

"Just once, can't I catch up snogging with Draco in the library rather than snuggled up with a book?"

It perked his interest to hear his name said so easily with Grangers. In the state of snogging, too. He yearned to deny that it excited him. The witch could have said any other wizard's name, but she knew Granger was his.

His to snog in the library, if he wanted.

The girls leaned against the bookshelf. There were no other people in their aisle, or else, their voices would have kept quieter. At least he hoped that was the truth.

"Ministry of Magic?" Weaselette asked.

"Mhhm," Granger hummed. "Harry's having the dreams again. Of the Ministry. He knows it's there but can't riddle out where. Or what its leading to. I thought I'd find some descriptions of the departments in a book. I don't know. Maybe it'll jog his memory. Help us see His plan."

"I don't know. After what happened last time -."

"I know." All hope deflated from Granger's voice. It was the hollow response of a witch beyond her means. He listened harder. Draco placed his ear near against the desolate bookshelf and fouled his robes just to hear what those two talked like when he wasn't around. "He isn't even trying to protect himself. He's letting Voldemort see into his mind. See everything. See all of us."

The name caught a thick sweat at the back of his neck. He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat.

Their voices turned low to whispers. Draco still managed to find the seam in the shelves that opened up sound louder.

"He's doing what he can, Hermione. We have to trust that."

"Can we? Can we even trust that anymore? Trust him?" Granger snapped. "He's changed, Gin. He changed after the graveyard. I-I thought he'd come back during the DA, but it's like, the Harry we know isn't there. He's gone. The darkness. That darkness in his eyes. I see it and it scares me."

"You can trust Draco Malfoy, but you can't trust Harry?" Ginny replied incredulously.

He thought to stop listening. He almost did, in fear of what she'd say.

It was too late for fear. Whether she trusted him or not, he was the one whom she was eternally bound. He'd withstand her loathing if it meant she was not slain in cold blood. Hunted down like a hound. Ripped to shreds by the dark fell beasts that now roamed the world.

"No. No, I trust Draco to be Draco. He's going to do whatever he can, whether it is friendly or popular or barbaric, he will do it because he wants to. I trust him to do that." His heart slowed its frantic pace. He let his breath move easier through his nose. "But with Harry. I'd lay my life down for him. I'd happily sacrifice everything if it meant that he defeated this maniac. And he can't even see beyond his own pain to see that there is much worse to come. The bad has only just started. More people will die if he slips."

The book was slammed down to the table. The table groaned under its weight.

"You need to learn this part, Ginny. Learn how to keep his head so he doesn't lose it."

There was silence that answered. So, Granger pushed harder at her friend. "Please. See? You need to be the one who keeps him in line. Otherwise, he'll jump right in. Into danger, into death, into madness. Someone has to be there and stop him. You have to help him see the bigger picture."

"What. Why me? That's your job!"

"I won't be around to do it forever and I need you to learn how to do this."

"Hey! What the hell are you going on about? Where you going?"

There was an audible swallow from the other side. The witch knew she wouldn't be by Harry's side for much longer.