Chapter 16 The Howler kissing Grainger was like fire.
Whiskey fiend fire. Dante's Inferno.
His mouth pressed into hers, pillowy yet firm at the same
time, and his body ignited like never before.
It was as if he'd leapt down the 9 levels of hell only to reach
an exquisite, hidden paradise brimming with natural springs
and exotic creatures long extinct.
Draco hadn't even meant to do it. 1 moment she was smiling at
him like the sun itself, and then a flash of danger crossed
her eyes, a glint of something wicked and cryptic.
She became the blood moon, drawing him in.
Hermione pulled away at 1st and Draco stumbled slightly, missing
the pressure of her lips against his.
I'm sorry. She gasped, shaking her head as
she brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and
shocked. Was she caressing the ghost of
their kiss or trying to wipe it from existence?
Drako cooled instantly at the notion of the latter.
He straightened himself and looked down his angular nose at
her. Yawn.
Sorry. He sneered, his eyebrows
flashing up mockingly as he took a step back.
Drako tried to hold his shoulders square.
They felt at risk of falling. Instead, he disentangled his
rigid body from its self-imposed bind and moved around to another
desk filled with potted plants and potion paraphernalia.
I thought that he began a note of hurt, sharpening his tongue
as his long fingers toyed with the leaves of a young Mandrake
beginning to sprout. The way you've been tensing your
thighs around me. The way you catch your breath
every time I'd come within an inch of you.
He wasn't looking at her, the startled lioness, but continued
idly perusing the potion's desk. The way that even now I know
that you're so damn wet for me. He heard her stifle a little
gasp from 5 meters away. I thought you were indicating a
desire for more. It was my mistake.
Dricka looked at her then. Hermione Grainger, rosy cheeks,
freckles blazing, chest rising rapidly, her braid coming loose
from its constraints. Her throat bobbed.
For a moment. He hadn't been sure he'd wanted
to reshape himself into the loathsome figure she'd come to
expect, but she sucked her full lower lip beneath her teeth and
he knew he had her. I've seen the way you look at
me. He said dangerously, approaching
her once more, breathing in her delicious scent of old books and
sweet spice. Your eyes roaming my body like
I'm some delectable morsel for you to sample.
Don't deny it now. He smirked as he filled the
space between them, his steady chest meeting her rising bosom.
If it weren't for years of occlamacy with Snape, Hermione
would have felt the hammering of his heart as sure as day.
We shouldn't. She confirmed all his wishes and
more with that little whimper. Sparks flew in his chest, his
own firework displayed, bursting within his rib cage.
Drago ran a hand through her braid.
But what if we should? Hermione fell into him, their
teeth clacking together in an awkwardly hilarious smash, and
he chuckled into her mouth. Her self-conscious laugh rumbled
down his body and in moments the two fell into rhythm with one
another. Drago lifted her up and propped
her on the desk of books and parchment, shoving a heap of
them aside before they dropped with an echoing thud to The Cave
floor. Be careful with those.
She chided, glancing down at the precious texts to make sure they
were unharmed. Shut up and kiss me.
He demanded ravenously, and she squeaked in response, wrapping
her legs around his torso. His cock felt so hard against
her and he desperately wanted to pull it out and show her just
how he could make her feel with it.
Calm yourself, Draco. He wondered briefly what was
going on inside her mind at that very moment.
Gods, he wanted to enter it, but that felt too intrusive.
Instead, he opted for unravelling her braid and
setting her hair free. Draco raked his hands through
the wild curls, shaking them fully loose, and held her
heart-shaped face in his hands. I can't tell you how long I've
wanted this. He confessed.
It's been a relatively new discovery for me.
Hermione whispered heavily. But part of me feels like it's
not so new at all. Both of their eyes fell to her
little bump. Perhaps not.
Draco agreed. I still don't know how to feel
about this. All of it.
How you make me feel. It tears me up inside.
I can understand that. He replied solemnly, giving her
a little space before moving his hands to his thighs.
I need us to go slow. Slow.
Draco repeated, drawing out the word with consideration.
We've clearly skipped a few steps somewhere, she said,
pacing a hand over her stomach. But things are confusing and
tenuous enough without causing more.
You mean if we don't work out, Trico?
She said imploringly, her voice sad and searching.
How could we work out? I love a conundrum, a puzzle, a
problem. But this one, I can't even begin
to solve it. I still feel like I'm missing
most of the equation. Are you saying you're scared to
try, or scared of what will happen if we fail?
He looked down, afraid of the answer.
I'm scared of everything. She breathed out, but Hermione
dragged her hand through his tousled hair, passed his ear to
his chin, tugging it up lightly to meet her eyes.
For some absurd reason, I can't bring myself to be afraid of
you. Her eyes searched his.
What was she trying to find? Finally, she asked the question
he was sure she'd been holding back for weeks.
Why did you kill Ron? The moment between her words and
his response seemed to stretch on forever.
I didn't. His voice was a soft croak.
She sat back and he poured his hands from her thighs, going
rigid before her. What do you mean you didn't?
Her voice was soft, a hopeful whisper floating on the wind,
dreamily searching for a flower bed.
He is dead, Hermione. Draco said gravely, and the
rising hope he'd seen in her eyes died, a watery glaze
sheening over them. It just wasn't me that struck
the killing blow. I took the blame, or the glory,
depending on who you ask. If you weren't the one to cast
the Killing curse during the nocturnal raid, then who did?
My father. Hermione went silent, and he
could sense her mind whirring, slotting more of the puzzle
pieces into place. And you killed him in
retaliation? Yes and no.
Hermione frowned, shaking her head.
Not following. Since the battle.
My father believed we had one. He couldn't see past his greed
for notoriety and power to acknowledge that everything we'd
lost, we as a collective, not just the Malfoys, could never be
reclaimed, especially not under the Dark Lord's regime.
Hermione began tracing small lines on the top of Draco's
hand, and warming vibrations coursed through his body.
Mother and I saw it that day when the giant Hagrid, she
corrected with an emotional warble, and he nodded.
When Hagrid walked the Death Eaters to the clock tower
courtyard carrying Harry, my mother and I saw and understood
what was truly worth fighting for.
He didn't like talking like this.
It was too honest, too open. Even here, in their secure,
solitary cave, he felt like he was releasing a dragon he'd
never be able to cage again. Part of me always hoped it would
be Harry Potter who would save us all.
Save us so I didn't have to. All the times I could have
helped him, I had so much insider knowledge.
I could have even warned him, or even Dumbledore when it was
rumoured that the Dark Lord was returning during our fourth
year. But I was a coward.
You are just a boy, she said softly.
He was a boy too, Hermione. Draco cut back, his eyes cold
and his teeth gritted. Bitterness hardened his features
to marble. My father didn't help us get the
injured to safety. Refused to help obscure Harry's
body and seethed at the notion of bringing it to the Room of
Requirement while the rest of the Death Eaters fought against
the remnants of the opposition. He couldn't understand why we
weren't revelling in the win. Draco coughed against the rising
emotions and stepped away from her attention walking over the
chalkboard and absently running a hand along its dark wood
border. Hermione gave him the space to
speak, and the lump in his throat began to dissolve.
It was like that between us for days afterward, Even when my
mother and I reached out to the Order to support the immigration
of the Mughal Prime Minister, my father battled with us at every
turn. He would have rather we sailed
to France ourselves if we weren't on board with his new
regime. Why didn't you?
A heavy sigh left Draco's chest, as if all his secrets,
conspiracies, and truths were pouring out from where they'd
weighed down his lungs. Because of you.
Me. She whispered gently.
The soft padding of her boots across the stone floor let him
know that she was walking over to him, but he didn't turn.
He couldn't face her, not when everything was spilling out of
him like this. I had to protect you.
He expected her to laugh at him, to call him egotistical for
thinking she needed his protection.
She didn't. I don't know how anyone could
have seen the devastation on your face when Potter died.
The agony, the heartbreak, and not have experienced, the
overwhelming doctrine of making sure you'd never feel that way
again. Hermione shifted her weight onto
the other foot, obviously uncomfortable with this
admission. He continued.
And that's why when my father struck wheeze, struck Ron with
the Killing Curse, I snapped. I cast a Bombardier at the
column beside him, and it crushed him to death.
The clouds of occlusion rolled past his eyes, but he staved
them off. He wanted to be real, for her to
be present. Hermione took his bicep in a
palm, kneading her thumb into it soothingly.
Do the order. No.
You think they'd let you come here?
If they thought I had, then why can you tell me sooner?
She said softly. You let me believe everything
the Prophet said about you. It served me for you to think I
had. Everyone else believed it, even
the Order, before you convinced them otherwise.
If I had reminded you I hadn't killed him, and you had been
Confunded or Imperious, you'd have been able to report to the
Death Eaters that their newly appointed Dark Commander was a
turncoat. At our first dinner.
You were testing me. What I knew, what I remembered.
His head hung low, and he nodded.
He was tired, yet unbelievably relieved to at last have this
moment with her. Tucking herself beneath him, she
found his eyes, the muscles tingling around them finally
unburdened from the tension. You're not a coward, Draco.
What you've done from the battle to now, shows that it was too
late. It's never too late, she said
with the full conviction of a Gryffindor as she wrapped her
arms around him. He wrapped his own around her
and in the kind of embrace he had only ever received from one
other woman in his life. It's never too late to start
fighting for what you believe in.
After a full orientation of The Cave and its limitations, of
which there were many in comparison to the Hogwarts
remove requirement, and once Hermione had spent a
considerable amount of time reading her notes on the
illustrious spell they were to craft, they called it a day and
left The Cave. Not a second had passed since
the brick wall hid away the wooden door.
The bookshelves returned in situ before they were accosted by a
harried looking Poppy. He was having the howler, Sir.
The elf cried frantically, thrusting a soggy envelope into
Draco's unamused hands. Poppy isn't getting it to stop.
Poppy is even tried to eat the letter Sir, but the poison keeps
coming back. Dread sank into Hermione's
heart. Her friends, her family, the
Order, they would have read the paper today and their minds
would have leaped to the worst conclusion imaginable.
She could hear them now. We should never have trusted
him. Poor Hermione.
Just think what he's done to her.
We need to get her out now. Before Draco could unfold the
letter, it unfold itself for him, flying up to hover in his
face, a pale, papery forked tongue hissing at him as it
began to speak. Draco Lucius Malfoy, I would
have never in my wildest dreams have believed you capable of
this. We had only hoped that the Daily
Prophet's sources were mistaken, however.
Miss Clearwater, as a companion of Mr. Percy Weasley's and a
fringe member of the Order, is a ward of our own.
She notified us the moment she left your manner of her
discovery. I was also horrified to find her
mind had shown signs of mental tampering.
We have been unable to see through the oblivation.
I don't know what game you're trying to play here, Mr. Malfoy,
but it is a dangerous one indeed.
Yours and Miss Granger's presence is expected at the
place we last met immediately. Failure to meet me will
jeopardise the enacted cease-fire, and I will be forced
to admit I was wrong about you all along.
Do not let me down, Professor Manerva Mcgonigal.
The aftershocks of the Howl are reverberated around Malfoy's
privates today. Has my mother heard this?
Draco asked the elf abruptly, the three of them standing
frozen as wax statues in his study, a bizarre diorama of
concern and foreboding. No, Sir, the Mistress is out for
the day. He turned to Hermione.
I feel like I've been making all the decisions lately.
These are your people. They're yours too.
Draco huffed in response. If they were my people, they
wouldn't jump to conclusions so rashly.
They aren't here thinking that you're the one who's joined the
dark side. Hermione couldn't argue with his
logic. The Weasleys would never think
that. She'd given herself willingly to
Draco, and yet she had, at least at some point, and partially
even today, she had shown him that there was a place for him
in her heart and she didn't want to take that away from him.
Jinny wouldn't even have expected it happened so soon.
Hermione imagined her sister now beside herself with worry and
guilt after sending Hermione the how to book on charming Wizards
if we meet with Mcgonigal. Hermione began thinking out loud
and looking to Draco for his reaction.
He was massaging his temple and Fenrir smells it on you.
That could put the whole operation under serious threat.
You would be at risk. She bit her lips, stewing her
with a problem. If we don't meet with
Mcgonagall, then the Order will consider you a spy for
Voldemort. The cease-fire will be broken,
and many more lives will be lost.
She looked up at the shivering, panicked elf, then at the
statuesque, troubled form of her protector, the father of the
Beans in her womb. She knew what she had to do.