Tag: harry potter

From the Lips of a Slytherin – Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Kiss and Make-up

“What do you want?” Hermione wasn’t frightened, just a little unsettled. She hadn’t meant to be so oblivious to her surroundings, and this was exactly the reason why.

Honestly, Hermione, she chastised herself, In these uncertain times especially, you need to take better care! She glanced back over her shoulder at the two hulking brutes behind her. They were definitely blocking off any other route, not that she was really considering running off, but it also made it harder for reinforcements, if they were to try and help her. Ruefully realizing her folly, Hermione slipped a hand into the pocket where she kept her wand.

“Expelliarmus!” The figure in front of her cried out with a hysterical note. Hermione’s wand went flying over the figure’s shoulder, and then the person stepped forward a little, making it clearer to see her.

Pansy Parkinson’s face was a mottled expression of fury and jealous rage. She brandished her wand with an ugly sneer that was probably permanently etched into her face, and laughed at Hermione.

“You didn’t think I’d actually let you get away with it, did you, you filthy little Mudblood?”

“I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pansy.” Hermione raised her chin and stared down the other girl. She may have been unarmed, but she wasn’t the type to give in, and Pansy had done her no favors in the past.

“You bitch!” Pansy spat at her, “Like you don’t know! You’ve gone and bewitched him with your clever little love spells and made him think that he doesn’t love me anymore!”

“Pansy,” Hermione said reasonably, “I’m sure that you’ve got it all wrong. After all, it’s illegal to use love potions, and who would I have enchanted anyway? It’s hardly worth my time.”

“Draco is worth five of you! No, ten, a hundred! You’re nothing but a filthy bitch, and he’s a Pureblood; a Malfoy!” Pansy screeched, furiously waving her wand around. A small voice inside Hermione’s head told her that she was clearly dealing with a very unbalanced Slytherin girl.

“Oh, are we talking about Draco?” Hermione answered lazily, her eyes furtively glancing around the darkened corridor for a means of escape, or a weapon to protect herself, or both.

“Yes! My Draco was devoted to me, and then came along and for whatever evil reason took him from me with your illegal potions and charms! Well, no more. I’m taking back what is mine, and you’re going to pay for it dearly, you little Mudblood bitch. We’re going to make it so that not even that stupid little Weasley boy will want to give you a second glance.”

Then she slowly approached, and Hermione almost felt as if the walls were closing in on her when she realized that the hulking forms in the shadows behind her were Crabbe and Goyle and advancing on her. Pansy swung her wand out with a waspish snarling; using a spell that Hermione had never heard, but knew was probably not very pleasant. She ducked beneath the other girl’s arm and stumbled down the hall a few steps.

There were crashing noises behind her as Pansy slashed her wand at everything and anything she could reach, screaming insults and obscenities all the while, her blind fury making her a dangerously unsettled opponent. Hermione needed to get to her wand and quickly. She was more or less helpless without it. Pansy must have realized what she was trying to do because she changed her tack.

“You’ll never mean anything more to him than a little plaything, you know. That’s what he does to women, Draco, he plays with you, makes you believe that he loves you, and then as soon as he’s had his fill he flings you away and pretends like you don’t exist.” Her words, poison that they were, were spoken with too much regret, too much pain for Hermione to ignore as mere vitriolic.

“You’re wrong about him, Pansy. I don’t think you know him at all.” If she could just keep Pansy talking long enough to get to her wand…

“Oh, no, I know my Drakey, and he would never, and I mean never take up with a filthy Mudblood slut like you unless it was all for the piece of ass he could get. Maybe he thought you were a challenge. Topple the ivory tower that was Hermione Granger.” She laughed ruthlessly, and more things fell behind Hermione as she stumbled along, trying to see in the dusky, infrequent lighting.

Just a little farther…come on, another step or two… but Hermione went down hard as the great bulk of one of the Slytherins crashed her to the ground. She felt her teeth bite down into her lip, and the pain caused tears to well up unbidden, blurring her vision. She let out an involuntary yelp as whoever it was lying on top of her yanked on her hair hard and managed to pull a chunk of it free. Hermione couldn’t think through the searing pain in her ribs, it was as if something very hot was stabbing her in the side.

With a start, she realized that it was her wand. Carefully, she tried to reach down, but her arm was caught and dragged up hard behind her back. She felt something snap, and then a searing numbness ran through her shoulder as her arm broke. She yelled again, trying to dislodge her attacker. Suddenly a very angry voice from the other end of the hallway shouted,

“Expelliarmus!” And the person on her back flew off as if struck with a large bat. Goyle slumped down against the opposite end of the corridor, unconscious from the blast. Pansy screamed, then started to simper.

“Oh, Drakey! Thank goodness you’re here! This evil little Mudblood was trying to kill me, I swear she was!” The grating sound of Pansy’s voice carved its way through Hermione’s astonished gasping; once the weight had been removed, she could breathe again. Her anger caught her up, and she grabbed her wand as she jumped to her feet and whirled around. Her arm was outstretched and her wand shooting off little sparks of annoyance, ready to defend herself against Crabbe and Pansy at a moment’s notice.

Draco stood at one end of the hallway, his face half-hidden in the shadows, and he stared with contempt around him at the mess Pansy had created. Hermione was stepping closer, heated temper in her every movement. Crabbe backed away quickly, stumbling over a torn tapestry, and falling back to crash his head against the wall. Pansy yelled at him.

“Get up, you moron! You’re supposed to be taking care of her!” Then she stopped and looked at Draco, fear written across her features for the first time. “I mean, you’re supposed to be protecting me.” She back-pedaled lamely, but Draco shook his head and looked at Hermione.

“’Mione, are you all right?”

“I’ll be better if I can deal with this on my own, Draco.” Her eyes narrowed with distaste as she examined Pansy, still moving closer in tiny little steps. Her right leg hurt, and her head was pounding from getting hit on the floor. She was fairly certain that her lip was bleeding, and that she had a slightly crazed look about her, but she didn’t care.

“Hermione, love, put the wand down,” Draco said, quite sensibly, considering the situation, “You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But who’s to stop her from hurting me again?” Hermione demanded, her eyes never leaving Pansy’s stricken face as the Gryffindor girl bore down on her, wand pointed directly at her heart. “She attacked me, called me names and was all but ready to kill me. Why shouldn’t I do the same to her?”

“Because you’re better than that,” Draco pointed out quietly, though his tone held a note of suppressed amusement as if he somehow found the image of the tall Pansy shivering in fear at the sight of the petite form of Hermione armed with a skinny stick of wood funny. Of course, he’s seen what Hermione could do in a temper, and he knew that whatever she did would probably be nothing less than Pansy deserved, but even so, there was no use letting on that he knew that.

“So, by being a better woman than that,” she gestured with her wand in Pansy’s direction, the tip shooting off a small cascade of sparks dangerously close to Pansy’s face. “I’m supposed to let her get away with it? Your logic is faulty, Draco.”

“Oh, now, I didn’t say that. Go right ahead and punish her for her trespasses, by all means.” He motioned lazily, and Pansy cried out in alarm.

“No! Drakey, you can’t let her touch me! She’s going to kill me!” Hermione gave Pansy a look of pure and utter disgust.

“Why would I bother to kill you? You’re not worth my time.” Then she muttered some incantation too low for Draco to catch, but whatever it was the effect was immediate. Pansy’s eyes rolled back into her head, and her body slid back along the wall to collapse in a heap on the floor.

“What did you do?” Draco asked, still in that same lazily contemptuous tone. Hermione shrugged and brushed her hair out her face furiously.

“I put her to sleep with a fantasy. Well… really more of a nightmare.” No sooner had she said this then Pansy’s feet began to kick and squirm. Her eyelids fluttered as she turned her head from side to side in a frantic, unconscious reaction to whatever nastiness was being played out on the back of her eyelids. Draco smirked. He knew the terror that a good nightmare could instill and maybe that would teach Pansy not to mess with his ‘Mione. He looked back at his girlfriend as she stood trembling slightly in the hallway.

He quickly went to her and caught her right before she fainted. She was almost nothing to lift and he hurried her to the Hospital Wing.

Hermione’s eyes opened slowly against the bright sunlight filtering in through a window near the bed she was lying in. Her first thought was that she had forgotten to close the drapes on the east side of her bed, but after a moment’s contemplation, she realized that she was not in Gryffindor Tower, but rather in the Hospital Wing and that her left arm was bound and bandaged up to her torso. Her right hand was carefully lodged between a pale, slender hand, and her head was pounding slightly, but other than that, she couldn’t feel anything else that was remotely unusual.

She blinked again, trying to remember how she ended up in the Hospital Wing, and her gaze followed the line of the hand that held hers so protectively, up an equally pale arm, and to the sleeping face of one Draco Malfoy. She gave a little gasp as the events of the previous night washed over her memory, and she tensed up. Draco’s eyes flew open at the tiny sound, and he jerked upright.

“You’re awake,” he muttered unnecessarily, as he blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Muddled,” Hermione admitted quietly, “What happened?”

“You fainted. I think it was the pain in your arm that got you in the end.” Then he smiled wolfishly. “But not until after you’d dealt with Pansy.”

Hermione sighed and leaned back against the pillows. “I wasn’t too terrible, was I?”

“You were perfect,” Draco whispered, still a little awed by his ‘Mione’s control and power. He’d always known she was a brilliant witch, but after hearing Madame Pomfrey’s diagnosis of Pansy’s condition, he would seriously have to think a second, and maybe even a third thought before he ever pissed Hermione off that way!

Hermione flushed slightly as his awestruck tone and glanced away from him. She noticed that she was not the only one in the Hospital Wing, but that Madame Pomfrey was busily attending to both Crabbe and Goyle’s minor wounds, and that there was a bed at the opposite end of the wing with the curtains drawn. As soon as she noticed it, a low groan came from behind the curtain, and Madame Pomfrey shot it a distracted glance before turning her attention to the newly awakened Hermione.

“And how are you feeling this morning, Miss Granger?” The nurse asked with concern.

“Fine, though my head is a little sore still,” Hermione answered honestly, as Draco’s eyes took on a stormy quality. Madame Pomfrey started to take the bandages off of Hermione’s arm as she commented.

“And no wonder why,” here a dark glance went across the hospital wing to the curtained bed, “It’s probably from the break in your arm, dear. You tore through a rather large muscle with bone. It’s going to take a few days for that to heal properly, and I’d not be surprised if it’s a bit tense and sore still for the next couple days after that. Mr. Malfoy, I’ll need you to step outside for a few minutes while I help Miss Granger change.”

Draco did not look too pleased about the prospect of being away from Hermione’s side, but after another dark glance from the nurse sent him on his way. He pressed a light kiss to Hermione’s temple before he left.

“I’d better go tell the others that you’re awake, anyway. I know that Ginny’s been pacing the better part of the night, and that little Harry could do would settle her.” She blinked at his use of Harry’s first name but didn’t mention anything as Madame Pomfrey hustled him out of the ward.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked the nurse when she returned.

“About a day and a half. Mr. Malfoy brought you in around one in the morning on Christmas night.” She responded briskly as she bustled Hermione out of the sweater she was wearing and into a clean top. She helped settle the girl back into the pillows so that she was sitting up and then disappeared for a minute. When she came back, Hermione asked another question that had been bothering her.

“Are they injured badly?” she gestured with her good arm at the other two that were visible in the ward.

“No, they just complain quite a bit. I’ve decided to make it worth their while to be here.” Madame Pomfrey added with a wink. “Now that one, she’s a right mess. Can’t sleep, and when she does, it’s all nightmares. I have a feeling Miss Parkinson will not be sleeping well for a few weeks at best.”

“Oh,” Hermione bit her lip, then glanced up at the nurse guiltily. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

“Serves her right,” Madame Pomfrey nodded succinctly, surprising Hermione with her frank approval. “But don’t say that I said it. She’s sent a fair few of her classmates here on ‘accidents’ that were potentially hazardous to them. I think it’s about time someone made her think twice.”

Hermione gaped at the woman for a moment, before Madame Pomfrey continued with a softer tone.

“Now that young Mr. Malfoy of yours, I had so worried that he would turn out the way his father did. Goodness knows he’s started a few scrapes of his own, but he never left your side once. The others came and went, but he refused to stray. He’s quite a devoted young man.” She watched Hermione’s reddening cheeks with a keen eye and a small smile.

“He’s certainly that,” Hermione agreed, amazed that Draco would do such a thing, then wondering why she was so surprised. Hadn’t he proven to her that he was a changed man? That he was not as cold and distant as everyone thought him to be? Her heart warmed at the remembrance of his sleeping form in the chair next to her bed.

“Here now, my dear, take this, you’re still rebuilding muscle, and it helps if you sleep while that happens.” Madame Pomfrey pressed a cup of something that did not smell all that pleasant into her hand and to her lips before Hermione could protest. Almost instantly, Hermione could feel her eyelids growing heavy, and sleepiness was pulling her under.

“Draco,” she murmured, “tell him… I love… him…”

Hermione was vaguely aware when Draco came back in a fresh change of clothes and sat back down at her side with a book in his hand. She wasn’t sure how long she was supposed to stay in the hospital, but she felt the tension in her shoulder and knew that Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t let her go until she was given a clean bill of health. She wondered what Draco was going to do with all that time… then she was asleep again…

Hermione drifted in and out of consciousness over what she figured must be a couple of days. It was hard to tell since Draco hardly ever left her side, and every time she would wake up for more than a short time, Madame Pomfrey would give her more sleeping potion. Once when Hermione was awake, she noticed that the other beds in the Hospital Wong were empty again, and another time, Draco and Ginny were playing Wizards Chess quietly at the foot of her bed. Aside from that though, Hermione’s last days of December passed by in a dreamy haze.

When next she woke, there was a quiet conversation going on above her head. She kept her eyes closed, hoping to hear something of interest.

“-she could have been a lot worse,” Harry was saying in a hushed tone. Draco’s voice was equally low and filled with deep regret.

“I know, believe me, I know. I never wanted her to get hurt, you know that. If I had thought that she would be in danger like that, I wouldn’t have let her out of my sight.”

“You did the best you could,” Ginny comforted him, and Hermione had to smother a smile. Trust Ginny to try and ease Draco’s guilt.

“What are you going to do about it?” Ron asked, and Hermione had to wonder for a second what he was referring to. Draco sighed heavily.

“I don’t know. I promised her that I wouldn’t stop her if she wanted to fight. I just didn’t know that she meant to do it so soon,” he added with a rueful little laugh.

“Why would you have to promise her something like that?” Harry wanted to know, and Hermione got the impression that Ginny had just rolled her eyes at him, because then he said, “It’s an honest question!”

“She disagreed with my methods. I didn’t want her to get hurt, so I suggested that maybe it would be better for her to remain in a safe place while the fighting was happening. Needless to say, she had a few pointed things to say about that.”

“I can imagine she would,” Ron agreed with a laughing lilt to his voice. Someone smoothed a hand across her forehead and pressed her bangs back to one side. Draco was speaking again, this time his tone was contemplative.

“I sometimes wonder if she wouldn’t be safer away from me.”

Hermione decided she was done listening to them talk about her in such a manner. She opened her eyes without preamble and stated, quite eloquently for having supposedly been asleep only moments before,


The others were startled at her adamant refusal and blinked down at her as she struggled to sit up. Ron and Ginny stood at the foot of the bed, and Harry and Draco each lent a hand in helping her to sit up.

“Now, ‘Mione, listen to reason,” Draco started, but she cut him off.

“No, absolutely not. You will not sacrifice my happiness because you’re feeling guilty. I refuse to allow it.”

“Very well then,” Draco smiled down at her, with a smirk lingering somewhere in the depths of his grey eyes, “I wasn’t too keen on the idea myself, you know.”

Then he kissed her, right there in front of the others; he kissed her with the passion of a man worried, then relieved when his worries fell false. Harry glanced away uncomfortably, and Ron turned red. Ginny grinned at them like a Cheshire cat.

“Now then, Mr. Malfoy, that’s enough of that.” Madame Pomfrey came bustling in with a pile of clean linens in her arms. “She’s not been awake more than a few minutes and you’re already tiring her out. Stop that at once, young man!” Draco moved back from Hermione with a recalcitrant look on his face. Ron was laughing until Madame Pomfrey shot him a nasty look, and he stopped.

“Miss Granger, if your friends will clear the area, then we can do a final check on that shoulder, and if I think you’re clear, then you may go.”

The other four scattered quickly, anxious to have Hermione out of the Hospital Wing. A few minutes later, she joined them in the hallway, flexing her left arm and rolling the shoulder as if loosening a tightened muscle.

They made their way down to the Great Hall for some lunch, and as they walked, Draco hung back with Hermione for the entire way. Just before they entered, he motioned for the others to go on ahead and pulled Hermione out of the way of the doors.

“What is it, Draco?” She asked softly, squeezing his hand. She had been feeling particularly softened to him in general since finding out that he had spent the night in the hospital with her while she was there.

“Hermione, I’m really sorry about what happened, you know that, right?” He looked worried.

“Draco, that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know that your ex-girlfriend was psychotic.” He flinched when she called Pansy his ex, but he let it pass, choosing instead to gather her close and kiss her again.

“Are you really hungry?” He murmured in her ear. She looked up at him through her lashes with a deeply tempting expression and licked her lips.

“I’m suddenly ravenous, but I don’t think I’m going to find something to suit my current appetite in the Great Hall.”

Draco paused as he looked down at her. “Are you sure, Hermione? I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you, or pushing it.”

“I know that,” she assured him, “I’m ready for this, and I’m sure. I love you Draco, and I trust you.”

With that, he took her hand and led the way down the stone stairs to the lower levels of the castle. With a quiet whisper of the password, he took her into the empty Slytherin Common Room. She hesitated on the threshold, knowing that this was taboo, but the look of desire in Draco’s once-again stormy eyes overrode any reservations she may have had about entering this forbidden territory.

He took her down a long hall and another set of stairs to a locked door. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking what turned out to be a bedroom, and letting her precede him into the room. She looked around with interest at his room. There was a large bed in the center, with a deep emerald comforter with silver lining covering it. A fireplace to one side of the room sent heat and limited light bouncing off the stone grey walls, and a desk on the opposite side of the room bore very little sign of use.

“You don’t have to share with anyone?” Hermione asked with interest. Draco shook his head.

“It was long ago decided that Slytherins were better off having their own space. It breeds less contempt.”

“That makes sense,” Hermione nodded, her eyes falling once again on the oversized bed. She felt a slight flutter of nerves, but as soon as Draco came up behind her and held her against his chest, even those little butterflies were dissipated.

She turned in his arms and kissed him suddenly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. He gripped at her hips, bringing their bodies even closer together, and kissing her back fiercely. There was a sense of desperation and need there, but it was firmly leashed in with a controlled passion that made Hermione tremble.

He carefully caught her up and carried her to the bed, peeling back the blanket and lying her on soft steel-grey sheets underneath. He just as carefully helped her to remove her clothing, leaving her in only a soft pink bra that nearly blended in with the creaminess of her skin, and a matching pair of bikini panties. Draco marveled at the sight of her, finally laid out across his bed, just as he’d imagined in the fieriest nights of their relationship, and, if he was honest with himself, several times before they had even started going out.

Her soft, peachy skin stood out against the harsh grey sheets and made her all the more ethereal appearing. Her hair fanned out on the pillow as she watched him with doe-like brown eyes. He kissed her slowly, letting her get used to the idea of being so uncovered around him. He wanted nothing more than to simply strip them both bare, and plunge into her with a heated abandon, but he held himself in check. Hermione deserved better than that… at least the first few times. Once they got the hang of this, he was sure they could afford to get a little more inventive.

He caressed her shoulders, running his fingers along her collarbone with a light teasing brush. He moved his hand down her side, avoiding her breasts, coming to settle on her soft belly instead. She gave a tiny sighing moan as he dallied around her belly button, then swept his hand upward, between the valley between her breasts to rest a couple of fingers on her rapidly beating heart.

“I love you too, Hermione,” he murmured, and she frowned in confusion. He smirked down at her, looking a bit roguish and quite handsome. “Madame Pomfrey said you had a message for me. I love you too.”

“You know I love you,” Hermione reminded him, “I didn’t think there was any doubt in that one.”

“No, there really isn’t, but I do love to hear you say it.” Then he got up and slowly took off his own clothing, leaving his boxers on until they were ready for that final step. If he took down too many of his barriers, he’d more than likely lose control too quickly.

Instead, he wanted to see Hermione lose it all and come back for more. He smiled wickedly down at her, and then he kissed her. His lips traced hers, his tongue following the outline of her mouth until she opened her lips and admitted his tongue. He tenderly took her into his arms, running an arm down her side again, this time to hold her hip and turn her to face him as they lie on the bed together. He danced little kisses down her neck, and to her breasts, reaching behind her, he fumbled momentarily with the closure on her bra, before it sprang free and the bra fell away from her succulent breasts.

He had thought that the pink of her undergarments was tempting; it was nothing compared to the dusky rose of her nipples as they beckoned to him. Leaning down he took one into his mouth and laved the tip with his tongue. She cried out lightly, arching into his hold and pressing his head closer with one hand. Taking this to be a good response, he lapped at her nipple, sucking and nibbling on it with a delicate set to his teeth. She moaned and tried to keep him closer, but he switched to her other breast and watched as she squirmed and wriggled under his lips. He slid one hand down to cup her bottom in one hand.

She arched her hips into his, pressing insistently against his just as insistent erection. He groaned with the effort it was taking for him not to just ravish her in that instant. Hermione seemed to sense that his hold was tenuous, because something very wicked and un-Hermione-like flickered in the depths of her eyes, and she separated one hand from where it had gripped in his blonde hair to stroke his chest. Her questing fingers sought out the waistband of his underwear. Warning bells sounded in his head.

“’Mione, stop that.” Draco remonstrated quietly. “Just let me touch you.”

And saying that, he moved the hand that had cupped her bottom to tease along the elastic at her leg, slipping one finger beneath it, to stroke the soft skin of her thighs and hips. He ran the same finger toward the front of her panties, and gently rubbed at the damp, heated flesh he discovered at the apex.

She shivered at his touch and pressed closer, urging him to continue. He dipped his other fingers beneath the crotch of her panties, stroking the tender flesh there until her hips were undulating against his hand. Cautiously, he slipped his middle finger inside the wet channel secluded beneath her womanly folds. She cried out at the invasion, but she shifted against him more furiously, riding his hand as he moved his finger slowly in and out of her.

He watched as her eyes went overly bright with desire, the pupils dilating wildly, and her cheeks suffused with an attractive blush. Everything about her in that very instant cried out for sexual release, from the bow of her arched back to the tension in her lower body as her hips jutted against his hand. Finally, it proved to be too much for her, and her body arched further, her hips thrusting up to meet his hand as he pressed against that little nub hidden in the folds of her drenched apex.

She cried out his name, her hands gripping at his shoulder tightly, her nails digging lightly into the flesh there, but he didn’t mind. He watched her as the convulsions he could feel against his fingers slowly subsided, and then he kissed her gently, slowly removing her panties and his boxers. We wanted no more barriers between them, and she gasped slightly as she looked up at him with a slightly wondering look in her eye. Carefully, he aligned himself up with her opening, the paused.

“We’ll go slowly,” he murmured, and she smiled trustingly up at him, and nodded.

“Go on, Draco, I’m ready.”

He took a deep breath, and then slowly he inched himself inside her. He froze when a tightness stopped him, and that tension was reflected around her eyes. He let her get used to him being in as far as he was, then pushed against that final barrier. She tensed, her eyes closed, teeth sunk into her lower lip. It took a moment, but when she opened her eyes, the look there was indefinable. It was something like love, wonder, and a tinge of discomfort, but Draco was lost in the feeling of her wrapped around him like that. Tight, warm and so soft.

She gasped as he slid all the way into her. He paused again, to make sure she was okay, then slowly, much more slowly than he even thought he could manage, he began to thrust in and out of her. She gasped on every in stroke and gave a little sigh on every out, and the sounds that she made set Draco even closer to the edge. As she grew more languid beneath him, he carefully upped the pace. Now her gasps were coming out as little moans every so often, and Draco could feel himself starting to perspire with the effort of keeping a steady rhythm going.

“Draco,” Hermione gasped, her hands going down to grip his hips and push him in farther, “Oh, please, go faster.”

It was all the permission he needed, as a low grumbling groan bubbled up from his throat. He pushed in and out of her more quickly now, giving them both what they needed. She was trying to meet him thrust for thrust, but missed every third one or so, and was pushing her hips upward to his, letting him slide in even deeper with the better angle. Suddenly, she grasped his back with grappling fingers, forcing herself up and closer than ever before as the second wave of orgasm crashed through her. The tiny tremors and convulsions inside her squeezed him with delicious torture, and with another few thrusts, he came with her name as a desperate cry on his lips.

Shuddering and gasping as soon as his orgasm had passed, he fell slightly, catching himself on his elbows so as not to crush her with his weight. She was smiling dreamily up at him, and he couldn’t help but return it with a goofy grin of his own. Tiredly, he leaned down and caught her lips in a lazy kiss. She kissed him back with the same level of spent energy, then cuddled him close. He turned to the side and drew her into the circle of his embrace. She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Draco,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Hmm,” he couldn’t manage much more than that, his eyelids already feeling heavy. Lack of sleep over these past few days caught up with him, and he could use the nap, but he tried to stay conscious long enough to hear what she was saying.

“Love you…” she whispered against his shoulder, and then she sighed and seemed to settle into sleep.

“Love you too…” he whispered back, finally allowing the waves of exhaustion and worry roll him off to slumber.

When Hermione woke up, she was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with a very unfamiliar sensation in her lower body. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings, and then it all made sense again. She was in Draco’s bed, in his room, and that sore, tingly feeling was more than likely a reaction to their earlier activity. Hermione smiled like the cat that got the cream. Making love with Draco had been amazing, and could only be described as breathtaking. Granted, she didn’t have any other experience to compare it to, but as far as she was concerned, that was all right with her.

She yawned, and shifted, realizing with a start that Draco was pressed against her from behind and that his arm was slung across her waist in a vaguely possessive manner. She smiled wider and patted his hand absently.

“Are you awake?” Draco asked quietly, and she turned in his arms to face him. His grey eyes almost seemed to glow silver in the low light from the fireplace, and he was smiling down at her. Leaning in, he kissed her gently, then sat back again, his head propped up on one hand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Wonderful,” Hermione responded, stretching her arms languidly above her head. “What about you?”

“I can’t remember feeling better,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her again, this time a little more warmly. Sighing, he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling for a minute, before he said, “We should probably get back to the others soon, you know. It’s probably almost time for the party.”

“What party?” Hermione asked, sitting up next to him, pulling the sheet up to cover her chest as she did.

“The New Year’s Eve Party. Apparently the Weasley twins have something interesting planned, and McGonagall gave them permission to do it in the Great Hall for all the students.”

“Oh,” Hermione was a little surprised to hear about this, as it must have been planned while she was still in the Hospital.

“Ginny said she wanted you to go with her before it anyway. Apparently she has some special outfit that you’re supposed to be wearing.”

“Oh,” Hermione repeated, trying to reconcile this caring man who fit in so nicely with her friends with the boy who had made fun of her since shortly after she started attending Hogwarts. He grinned at her and rolled out of bed. As he bent to find his clothes, Hermione had a chance to really admire him.

The all-too-brief look she’d had in the Prefect’s bathroom, and then again earlier, hadn’t allowed her to outline his physique as clearly as she’d have liked. He had the lean muscle tone that was required for his sport, but he had enough definition to make her mouth water when she realized that that was hers. And now she knew what to do with it, too. Another slightly wicked smile lit her features, and Draco caught this expression as he turned, his pants back on.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, slightly bemused. He tugged on his shirt and then started gathering Hermione’s clothing and set them on the foot of the bed near her.

“Nothing funny. I was just thinking about Quidditch, that’s all.” She said misleadingly and started to get dressed. He watched her with a quizzical look, not sure she was being entirely honest but didn’t press it as they got ready and went back up towards the main part of the castle.

Several hours later

Draco stood in the corner and brooded. It was an odd feeling, to be brooding again. He’d been so cheerful, so happy for the past few months that this dark expression he was wearing felt almost unnatural. One of the Weasley twins tried to engage him in conversation, but Draco waved him off. He wasn’t in the mood to talk right now. Even Ginny couldn’t drag him from this mood he was in. It was her fault that he was feeling this way anyway.

He watched as the attractive brunette shimmying on the dance floor with a sulky expression. Sure, she was only dancing with Neville Longbottom, but even so. She had only been able to dance once with him, before half of the Gryffindor boys, and a fair number of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw ones too had swept down on her and she’d been dragged off to the dance floor.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Ron stated as he leaned against the wall next to the Slytherin. He handed Draco an opened bottle of butterbeer, which was accepted with a quiet word of thanks.

“Does she have to do that?” Draco asked, gesturing at the group of guys swarming around Hermione like bees to honey.

“I don’t see that there’s anything wrong with her dancing,” Ron commented, then took a sip of his own butterbeer. “It’s not like they don’t all know that she’s off-limits.”

“Then why must they flock to her like that? She’s never been one to attract a lot of attention before. What’s different now?” Draco’s mood was not improving, and he was tempted to leave the party, but he wasn’t willing to let Hermione out of his sight.

“I don’t think she’s intentionally doing it, you know. Although, she is a sight to see in that dress that Ginny’s dressed her in.” Ron’s appreciation was something that Draco couldn’t handle. He turned to look at the lanky Gryffindor boy.

“You’re not going to try and dance with her too now, are you?” he demanded. Ron looked surprised at the suggestion.

“Me? No, I’m not,” he laughed a little ruefully, “Two left feet, you know.”

“Humph,” Draco clearly didn’t find that to be an issue, as Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff cut in and took over Longbottom’s dance with ‘Mione.

“I just don’t like it. They’re all touching her and looking at her. She’s not the type of girl that you do that to.” Draco protested, knowing he sounded like a petulant child, but not knowing how to stop it now that it’s begun.

“Well, you could ask her to dance yourself,” Ron said quietly as if it should have been obvious. Draco glared at him. The redhead shrugged.

“Just a suggestion. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Hannah, it’s not to be afraid to take a step. She’s a brilliant girl, you know.”

“I’m so very happy for you,” Draco drawled sarcastically. Ron shot him a censuring look, then pushed away from the wall.

“Well, I can see there’s no point in standing here and being ignored or insulted. See you ‘round, mate.” Then he merged back into the crowd and disappeared. Draco watched him go with a tiny stab of guilt. Now he was alone again, and he had to suffer through Hermione’s dancing with every other guy in the school on his own.

About ten minutes, and quite a few vicious thoughts aimed at the male population of Hogwarts, later, there was a break in the dancing as the students dispersed to mill around the tables lined with food along one wall of the Great Hall. Hermione and Ginny were arm in arm and giggling madly as they fought their way through the crowd over to where Draco was pouting.

“-was fantastic,” Ginny was saying, and Hermione was nodding in agreement. Draco looked her over appraisingly. The burgundy dress that she had on was snug across the top, accenting her chest, before flaring out slightly to form a little bell of a skirt that fell to just above the knee. Ginny had found her a pair of burgundy ballet slipper-style shoes that laced halfway up her calf, and Hermione had tamed her hair again, though it was less demure, and more controlled chaos as it framed her face in a brown, wavy halo.

Ginny hadn’t spared any trouble on her own outfit either. Her light purple dress brought out the color of the stone at her throat and the lighter streaks in her hair. All in all, he thought they both looked very nice, but he wished that the rest of the male half of the student body didn’t agree with him so readily. Draco shot Ginny a nasty look that brought her up short. Her hands propped up on her hips and an argumentative look crossed her face.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it!” She shot at him, and Draco crossed his arms in front of his torso. They glared at each other for a minute or so, until Hermione broke the tension with a quick snap of her fingers between them.

“Stop, both of you. You’re acting like spoiled children.” Her chastisement was firm, though her voice was light-hearted. Ginny dropped her arms to her sides with a sigh and shook out her long red hair behind her haughtily.

“It’s all right, Draco. I know you’re just jealous.” Then she grinned and wandered off to grab something to drink. Draco stared after her with an indignant look of surprise on his face.

“I am not jealous,” He retorted to nobody in particular, making Hermione stifle a giggle, “I am a Malfoy, we don’t get jealous.” Hermione’s amusement broke free at that, and she bent at the waist as gales of laughter overwhelmed her thin frame. Draco watched her with an eyebrow raised, disdain written across his features, although a spark of mirth smoldered in his eyes. She was just too damn adorable, in his not-so-humble opinion.

“Hermione, kindly cease your laughing. It is not funny.” He stated, quite calmly, with just a hint of the disdain that was in his expression. Hermione tried to calm herself down and ended up stumbling over into Draco’s side. He sighed and finally chuckled along with her, holding her in his arms. He was suddenly feeling much better, now that his ‘Mione was back in his arms, and away from the drooling masses of boys. She sighed as her giggling subsided and she nestled into his embrace.

A slower song started up, and Draco looked down at Hermione with a small smile. Couples were starting to fill up the floor again, and Draco led her out into the crowd along with them. He pulled her into his arms with a soft sigh and held her close as they rocked back and forth.

This was much better than brooding, he thought. Much better indeed.

That was not the last time that Draco danced with Hermione, nor the last time he stood by and watched her dance with other people. He came to enjoy just watching her and if he happened to intimidate several of her dance partners with a dark-eyed glare, then so be it.

As the entire school counted down to the New Year, he held her close and they waited for whatever special surprise the Weasley Twins had planned.

“3…2…1! Happy New Year!” As the cheering filled the Great Hall, Draco looked at the lovely brunette in his arms and kissed her soundly. The coming year was bound to be fraught with perils, but right this second, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the world.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind…”

Music was blaring from somewhere, and high over the heads of the students, a sudden booming crash resounded. As everyone looked up to the ceiling, more fireworks were set off. Large pinwheels of color and light zoomed across the Great Hall, earning oohs and ahhs of appreciation from the students gathered below. Bright flashes of shape and chromatic wonder lit up the faces of them. Hermione was grinning up at the fireworks, and then caught Draco’s eye as he smiled at her.

The look she returned him was full of joy and love, and he kissed her again with a passion that took even him by surprise. He pulled her back against the wall and kissed her more thoroughly. Hermione responded in kind, pulling back long enough to gasp in a quick breath. She dragged his head down so that his ear was pressed to her lips.

“I’ve got a sudden craving for dessert.”

“Oh?” Draco’s eyebrows jumped up at her brazen suggestion. “Do you want to go back to mine?”

She shook her head. “Let’s go for a swim,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the corridors to the Prefect’s bathroom. Draco grinned. Yes, this was a very happy New Year indeed!

From the Lips of a Slytherin – Chapter 18

Chapter 18: The Christmas Quarrel

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, with the early morning sun glistening on the fresh-fallen snow across the expansive grounds of Hogwarts. The world seemed to almost hold its breath, reveling in the beauty of the sparkle and shimmer of the delicate crystals of ice in the eaves, and the almost ethereal melody of the light breeze as it whistled through the treetops. A lone sound shattered the glorying silence, that of a cheerful tune being whistled slightly off-key, followed by the sound of large feet crunching in the snow as Hagrid made his way up to the castle with a very large sack over one shoulder.

Hermione rolled over in bed, blinking sleepily, and marveling that it could be Christmas already. Tonight the entire school would dine as one in the Great Hall, but for now, there was little more to do than to simply lie here under the heavy warmth of her red and gold comforter and wake up slowly.

Eventually, that little voice that egged at her for being so lazy got the better of her, and Hermione stretched her arms above her head languidly and sat up. There was a pile of gifts at her feet, as there was every year, and she smiled happily to herself. Slipping into her robe and gathering up the gifts, she slipped from the otherwise empty bedroom and padded down the hallway to Ginny’s room.

Gryffindor Tower was all but deserted this year, as the scare that the rest of the Wizarding World felt at the havoc of Lord Voldemort’s return had caused most of the students to rush home to their families. Hermione had discussed the possibility with her parents, but it had been far easier to convince them to allow her to stay than it would have to have her home. Much as she loved her parents, she wished that they would stay as far removed as possible from the hazardous situation.

Ginny was just rolling herself out of bed when Hermione tapped on the door, and together with their unwrapped gifts went down into the Common Room. A few minutes later, a tousled-looking Ron came down, saw them sitting patiently in the armchairs with their gifts, then dashed back upstairs to get Harry, looking much more awake then he had a moment before.

It had been mutually decided that they would all open their presents together, and Ron was never one to want to delay in said activity whenever possible.

Once Harry and Ron had joined them, the gift-opening happened in quick succession. Regardless of the fear and anxiety of the coming year, mindless of the rapidly approaching battle between Good and Evil, the four of them sat in a happy circle in front of the Common Room fire, tearing at wrapping paper with a childish delight. Hermione was glowing over a large tome of tales about some ancient hero, written in a rather obscure language, that Harry had given her when a tiny rapping noise at the window caught her attention. Ginny jumped up and opened the window, admitting a beautiful tawny owl with large brown eyes. The owl fluttered gracefully in and settled itself next to Hermione’s knee, extending the leg which had a scroll of parchment attached to it by a slim green ribbon. Carefully extracting the note, Hermione gently brushed a finger along the owl’s head.

“Aren’t you a lovely creature?” she murmured, before turning her attention to the letter. The owl watched her speculatively as Hermione’s eyes scanned across the page.

Happy Christmas, Hermione.
Lilith is a beautiful bird, don’t you think? I know she’ll do well for you, and since you don’t have one of your own… I know you’ll take excellent care of her, as you do with everything you do.
See you at breakfast, love.

“Lilith,” the name was befitting of the gorgeous bird, and the owl responded to the sound of her name by settling her feathers with a rather regal countenance. Hermione glanced up to see her friends staring at her with a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

Ginny was at first confused, but then her eyes lit up, and there seemed to be a hint of laughter bubbling in their warm brown depths. She looked very much as if she was attempting to suppress giggles.

Ron was flicking his gaze between the owl, the letter still in Hermione’s hand, and then Hermione’s face, as if he was putting all the pieces together in his head. Carefully, his fingers extended to stroke along the glossy feathers of one of Lilith’s wings, earning him an adoring look from the bird. Hermione smothered a smile and turned to look at Harry.

His expression was guarded, then he caught Hermione’s eye and tersely nodded as if he wasn’t really sure how to respond. She bit her lip and looked back down at the owl, as she scooted decidedly closer to the admiring petting of Ron and Ginny.

“Well, I have to hand it to him, at least, Hermione,” Harry commented quietly as they watched Ron cooing at the bird softly.

“What’s that?”

“I know that he’s got good taste in his choice of brunettes,” Harry conceded grudgingly, but a small smile played at his lips. Hermione flushed, and beamed at him, hugging him rather suddenly and with a great amount of rib-crushing force that Harry usually attributed to Hagrid. He hugged her back for a moment, patting her awkwardly on the back, then carefully disengaged himself.

“Well, I’m going to go get dressed,” Harry said as he pushed himself to his feet. He paused to kiss Ginny rather soundly, before presenting her with a small package and a leafy twig bearing white berries.

“Somehow I get the impression that Hermione is suddenly very ready to get to breakfast.”

Hermione blushed again but didn’t disagree.

As Hermione and Ginny made their way back up to the girl’s dormitory, Hermione poked at Ginny about the gift from Harry. Ginny blushed furiously, but carefully peeled open the wrapping as soon as they were safely in her room. Lilith glided gracefully to perch on the footboard of one of the beds.

Ginny gasped as a delicate necklace was revealed inside the box. A soft purple stone hung suspended from a thin gold chain. It was, by both their accounts, quite a beautiful necklace, and Hermione quickly helped her friend to fasten it around her neck.

“He has grown up some, hasn’t he?” Hermione commented quietly as Ginny admired her new jewelry in the mirror. Ginny’s soft brown eyes caught hers in the reflection.

“Harry isn’t as bad as he was. He still has a ways to go, but yes, he’s certainly matured.” Suddenly Ginny’s face tightened, and a worried note in her voice struck a chord of empathy in Hermione. “Do you think he’s ready, ‘Mione?”

“I don’t think that’s something we can judge, Gin… that’s something that’s going to have to come from Harry’s heart. But do I think he has a good chance? I hope most sincerely that he does.” Ginny nodded, hearing the wisdom in Hermione’s words, but the slightly haunted look in her eyes didn’t disappear until they had rejoined the boys and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Draco was waiting rather impatiently for them at the bottom of the stairs, and when they arrived, he let out a gruff sort of good morning to the others, before sweeping Hermione close for a warm hug and a kiss. It startled her a little to have him be so openly affectionate, and in the full view of every student who walked past them. Normally they kept their love out of the public eye, and that had been by both of their mutual understanding. When he pulled back, she was startled by the grim set of his lips and the dark shadows under his eyes. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, but before she could ask what it was, they were swept into the Great Hall.

As per Hogwarts tradition, twelve huge trees glittered with fairy lights and large shining balls, there were garlands and wreaths scattered everywhere, and it seemed you couldn’t go much more than ten feet without seeing another bunch of mistletoe floating not far above their heads. Hannah from Hufflepuff caught up with them as they were making their way to one of the three large tables remaining in the Great Hall. The high table where the teachers usually sat was gone, and the houses appeared to be mingling on this most joyous of holidays.

“Happy Christmas everyone,” Hannah greeted them with her customary cheerful smile, before going slightly pink and glancing at Ron. “Happy Christmas, Ron.”

He seemed to be taken slightly aback by her singling him out, but quickly smiled and returned her greeting. Then Harry grinned suddenly, and nudged him in the side, pointing at something directly above Hannah’s head. They all looked up curiously to see a bunch of mistletoe hovering there. Hannah’s pink cheeks glowed brighter as Ron blinked once, then leaned in with a small smile and kissed her gently. Hannah dipped her head as he pulled back and bit her lip.

“Would you like to sit with me for breakfast?” she asked him quietly, and Ron took her hand carefully before walking off with her.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be,” Hermione commented dryly as they moved to find four seats together at one of the long, crowded tables. Draco was holding her hand tightly in his, and she could almost sense a strange tension rolling off him, but she didn’t know how to get him apart from the group to talk to him properly.

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked as they pushed past the Weasley twins holding court over a group of astonished looking first and second years as they regaled them with some tale of heroic roguery. They waved and called a warm greeting, which was returned.

“Hannah and Ron,” Hermione responded as if they hadn’t just been separated by a couple of minutes and several students. “I thought it would have taken a lot more than a dance and an enchanted bush of greenery.”

“Oh?” Harry wondered, “Did you have something to do with the mistletoe?”

Hermione merely rolled her eyes at him, and Ginny giggled behind her hand.

As they ate, it was a jovial time, and even though he said little in his seat next to her, even Draco seemed to feel the holiday spirit. His subdued demeanor was enough to dampen Hermione’s good humor with worry, but there was little chance for them to excuse themselves until after they were all done eating.

As soon as they were through, Hermione tugged gently on Draco’s hand and smiled briefly at Harry and Ginny, pulling her boyfriend along through the dispersing chaos of breakfasting students. She led him out into the brisk morning sunlight, and toward the tree beside the lake.

It was cold, but the sun came down on them and reflected off the partially frozen lake and the powdery snow that covered the ground in a soft, white blanket. She stopped them right beneath the boughs of the tree and turned to face Draco.

“Now, then, what’s wrong?” She demanded. Draco looked pained, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“Do we have to talk about this right now, ‘Mione?” his whisper sounded harsh, and Hermione was suddenly very worried.

“What? Yes, of course, we do, Draco. Something is clearly bothering you, and I want to know what it is, right now.”

“Please, ‘Mione, don’t make me say it,” he pleaded and she started to shake. Something was beyond wrong here, and she didn’t like the terrified tone in his voice. She leaned back to see his face. There was a deep-seated fear written in his eyes and the same sad, tension to his face.

“Draco, please, you’re starting to truly frighten me,” she whispered, tears standing in her eyes for some reason she couldn’t understand. He gripped her tighter to him, all but crushing her against him.

“I… I’m probably being ridiculous, but I can’t lose you, Hermione.” He finally said.

“Lose me? How would you-?” Her question was cut off by a fierce kiss, but this was a desperate sort of kiss, filled with an agony of loss and longing, and Hermione gripped Draco tightly, his emotions taking over her for a moment. After a few frantic moments, he pulled back and, wild-eyed, gulped in a deep breath.

“It was terrible, ‘Mione. I was running along a long, dark corridor, and I could hear you screaming, but I couldn’t get to you. Every time I would go through a door, another long hallway was there, and every door I tried was locked. I couldn’t find you anywhere, and you just kept screaming my name, screaming for help. Something was hurting you and…” he trailed off to swallow convulsively as he struggled for composure.

Eyes wide, and heedless of cold, wet ground, Hermione drew him down to sit beside her and held him in her arms as he struggled with his terror. She smoothed a hand across his forehead and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

“Draco, it was a nightmare. It’s not real, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m safe, and you’re here with me.” She murmured soothing little things to him for nearly five minutes before he started to hear her, and calmed himself down. There was a vaguely haunted look in his eyes as he regarded her though.

“You could be in serious danger, Hermione. The Dark Lord is not impartial to being selective in his victims, and you’re too peculiar to him to miss his notice. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re not going to fight this battle. You can leave it to the others, and stay where you won’t get injured or killed.”

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. Now he was just being silly, because, while she knew the dangers, she was not going to spend the rest of her life in fear of what could happen. She said as much to him in a rather scathing tone, causing him to bristle in instinctive indignation.

“I’m not being silly, I’m worried about your well-being, Hermione! You are too close to Potter, you’re going to be an easy target. I don’t think you should be so frivolous with your own life!”

“You don’t think for one instant that I’d actually be pleased with the idea of dying, do you?” She retorted, her temper starting to get the better of her. “I happen to enjoy living, thank you very much. But I’m also not going to sit cowering in a corner while the people I love are out there, defending our world and fighting for what’s right!”

“So you’d put your own safety at risk to get involved in some stupid fight?”

“You didn’t always seem to think it was so stupid, Malfoy! You seemed to think it was a brilliant idea to cast out the Muggle-borns and let the Purebloods rule the roost, from what I recall.” She struck at him with barbed words, knowing that she was working herself up into a frothy head, but she had to make him understand. She couldn’t sit at home and worry all the time, and the only way she could do anything worthy of doing would be to pursue it.

“That was before I knew you,” he retorted firmly, seething just as much as she was. “I don’t think that way anymore. I was young and foolish, and I didn’t see things too clearly.” To hear him admitting to his faults so easily prodded at Hermione’s conscience. She knew that he had grown out of that behavior, but it was one thing that she could fire at him.

“Oh, so your love for me changed a thought-process that you’ve had for the past 16 years? My, that was awfully quick of you.” She got to her feet and pushed away from him. She couldn’t bear to look at him right this second, knowing the pain she had just caused.

“You would doubt my love for you?” he asked in a small voice; calm and rational, as though there was nothing wrong, and they were discussing the coming of Spring. It hit her fully the force of her words, and the hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck began to tingle. There was something oddly dangerous about that amiable tone.

“I wouldn’t have to, except that what you’re suggesting is that I stay away from people I care about, and far from the battle that we’re all involved in. You can’t swaddle me in cotton and lock me away, Draco.” She turned to face him adamantly. He was staring at her through narrowed eyes as he stood up in front of her.

“And who’s going to stop me from doing just that?” he challenged. She drew her wand, and pointed it directly at his chest; he stood so close that the tip of her wand was buried in his shirt, right above his heart. He was very still, and she glared up at him.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you, Draco. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stand by and watch my friends die, knowing I could do something to save them. And I’m sorrier still that you seem to have some aversion to that, but I’m not going to allow you to stand in my way.” Her voice was quiet; the time for yelling had passed, but her tone was deadly serious. He looked down at her, understanding her conviction, but not liking it one bit.

“You’re putting yourself at risk, for a bunch of people you don’t even know,” he warned. She shook her head, her long brown hair swishy angrily out behind her.

“No, I’m putting myself at risk for what I believe is right. That’s all I have to go on, but it’s all that really matters. The time will come when I will fight alongside my friends and my family, and the others who believe in the same things I do. Nothing you say or do will stop me, short of killing me yourself. Would you do that, Draco? Would you kill me now to stop me from potentially being destroyed later?”

“Of course not!” he gasped, as the idea of Hermione’s death ripped through him like a poison dart. “I couldn’t do it, even if I would.”

She waved that away with a quick gesture of her free hand. “Let’s set aside what you think you can and cannot do. Would you kill me now to stop someone else from doing it later on?”

“No,” he was trembling with fear and rage at the thought of someone actually hurting his Hermione. “No, I would not. I love you too much.”

“Very well,” she withdrew her wand and slipped it away, “Then that’s all settled. When the time comes, I will fight if I have to, and I will help Harry with whatever he needs until and after that. You’re not going to stop me, and I will try my best not to be murdered on the battlefield.” She smiled up at him as if she had just won an argument. With a narrowed gaze, Draco realized that she had, indeed, just won. Moreover, their argument had distracted him from the terrifying melancholy his nightmare had provoked. Suddenly, he laughed. She raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“Is this something I’m going to have to look forward to a lot in the future?” he asked her, taking her hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze. Hermione laced her fingers through his as they made their way back towards the castle.

“What’s that?”

“You, winning arguments. Are you going to do this for the rest of our lives?” He was still laughing and missed the surprised look on Hermione’s face before she covered it with a quick smile.

“Most probably, yes.” Then she leaned in to give him a quick kiss and they went back inside.

Several Hours Later

As they all poured out of the Great Hall, Hermione felt a warm hand wrap around her waist. Draco kissed her cheek and smiled goofily down at her. His earlier dour disposition was gone, and they had all just enjoyed a very happy Christmas feast together. Ron and Hannah were moving towards a darkened corner of the Entrance Hall, speaking quietly with one another.

Hermione thought that they made a very cute couple, both of them a bit shy, but Hannah was quickly learning to cope with Ron’s bashfulness, and vice versa. It didn’t hurt matters that Hannah quickly ingratiated herself with the rest of their little motley crew. She was easily liked and had an honest disposition about her that made it easy to have her around without it being a strain on everyone involved when she and Ron would end up blushing at one another from across the table.

“Dinner was very good,” Draco murmured in her ear, his breath fanning out to tickled at her hair and neck. “What’s say we find ourselves a dark corner as well, and think about dessert?”

Hermione giggled, feeling a little giddy after the cheerful effects of the holiday, and poked him playfully in the side.

“People will notice if we just disappear together, Draco.”

“No we won’t, ’Mione,” Ginny grinned, holding Harry’s hand. “I promise to close my eyes and distinctly not notice you two slipping away.” Then she winked and closed her eyes, an angelic look of innocence on her face. Harry snorted back laughter and shook his head at the other two.

“You guys go on, I have a feeling that my little ginger cat needs to get some rest. The holidays are making her silly.” Ginny’s eyes flew open with a blaze of embarrassment.

“Harry! I told you not to call me that where other people could hear!” She was blushing to her roots, but a pleased little smile played across her lips. He was goading her with other ridiculous nicknames, such as “love muffin” and “sweet pea” as they made their way up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Hermione stared after them, marveling at the drastic change that love could render in people. The thought made her turn to contemplate the man at her side.

“I think dessert sounds like a lovely idea,” she smiled shyly up at him. His eyebrows raised in a half-surprised glance. Hermione looked seriously up at him, and he asked her a question with his eyes, which she answered with a light kiss.

“Shall I meet you in the usual spot? Say, in about fifteen minutes? There’s something I want to do beforehand.” He offered, and she nodded, suddenly feeling very shy about her acceptance of ‘dessert’ with Draco. She knew he wouldn’t push her, and that he would never hurt her, but she didn’t think she wanted to stop him when things got too heatedly progressing tonight. The thought made her blush almost as much as Ginny, and with a puzzled expression as to its cause, Draco leaned in to kiss her properly.

Unlike this morning, this kiss held a promise of warmer things to come, and when they finally parted, Hermione was pleased to see that she was not the only one going pink and breathing hard.

Humming to herself, she watched Draco descend the stairs toward the Slytherin Dungeons, and went up towards the Prefect’s bathroom. She failed to see the three shadows who slipped into the passageway behind her, and so lost in her little daydream was she that she didn’t take immediate notice of them until one cut around her and blocked off her path.

“What do you want?”

From the Lips of a Slytherin – Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Tea Time Troubles

“’Mione? Hermione?” A hand waved in front of Hermione’s face. She blinked several times to refocus her eyes on the person in front of her. Red hair and freckles became clear, and Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and turned her attention back to Ron.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Ron smiled at her bemused expression.

“We’ve been talking to you for the past ten minutes. Where’ve you been?” Harry and Ginny laughed as Ron teased Hermione. She had been staring absently out the window when a flash of blonde hair went past the front of Honeydukes Candy Shop. Hermione was worried about this evening. She was supposed to have dinner with Draco and his mother tonight at the Three Broomsticks.

“Oh Ron, there’s no use in it. She’s not on this planet with us.” Ginny’s teasing remark broke into Hermione’s thoughts, and she looked around at her friends. They were there for her, they would understand her fears.

“I’m just feeling nervous. I’m sorry if I seem a little spacey. I’ve got a lot going on in my mind right now.” Her apology made Harry grimace and look away. She got the feeling he wasn’t overly pleased with her decision to join the Malfoy family for tea. Ginny wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and looked at Hermione with shining eyes.

“You’ll be fine, ‘Mione. There’s no way that you can truly be nervous about meeting Narcissa. She’s just a woman.”

Ron laughed outright.

“Right. ‘Just a woman’? More like a snobby rich lady who might eat her.” He teased Hermione lightheartedly, and she gave him a sort of awkward smile.

“Watch what you say about my mother, Weasley. I’m not above hexing you to defend my family honor.” Draco lazily threatened as he approached them. Ron’s ears turned red, and he became very interested in a display of giant candy canes.

“Family honor? Now that’s something new.” Harry quipped, his words lightly edged in poison. Ginny swatted at her boyfriend, but Draco merely smiled at them.

“Go on and have a laugh, Potter. I’ll admit that my family has a strange sense of honor, but she is my mother, and I’ll not have you or your friends mouthing off on her.” He took up Hermione’s hand and looked her over. She was anxious and fretful and fidgeted with her hair.

“Hermione, are you worried about this?” Though she shook her head, Draco knew she was terrified. He didn’t know when he had gotten so good at reading her like one of her beloved books, but she was not quite ready for this meeting with his mother.

He looked questioningly at her friends. Harry shrugged and frowned, before walking away to inspect a glass case of Cockroach Clusters. Ron still hadn’t turned away from the candy canes, but Ginny met his eyes. Her look of sympathy spoke volumes, and he gave her a tiny smile and nod then pulled the unenthusiastic Hermione out of the store.

She shivered a little in the icy wind, and he tugged her jacket better around her. He looked up and down the busy street in Hogsmeade. There was still about an hour and a half before they were supposed to meet his mother at the Three Broomsticks, and he wanted to be alone with Hermione. It would seem that Hermione had the same idea because she began to walk down the street toward the edge of town.

He wasn’t sure where they were going but figured that Hermione had some semblance of their direction because she just kept walking. With her hand still held tightly in his, he followed her through the snow drifted High Street, past the shops and houses with their windows frosted over in the cold weather. Finally, they were through the main part of the village, and Draco looked around with interest. The end of the lane came upon them quickly, and Hermione did not stop. She kept them going in the direction of the mountain that loomed over Hogsmeade in all its icy finery.

He asked her once where they were going, but when she did not reply, he held his tongue. She must have something in mind, to drag them all this way. At last, there was a tiny overhang in the rocks, and she maneuvered them under it. The dirt was dry and sheltered from the wind and the light sprinkling of snow that had begun only a few minutes before. Hermione huddled into a corner of the alcove, and Draco sat himself down carefully.

He didn’t want to appear too mussed when they went to see his mother. He truly wanted her to love Hermione as he did, and to garner her best opinion, Draco would have walked through fire. Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered something, blue flames pouring out of her wand tip and settling themselves into a nice little fire in front of them. It did not put off very much light, but it produced enough heat that Hermione relaxed a bit, and settled back against the rock wall behind them. Draco scooted himself around the flames and sat beside her. She put her head on his shoulder, and Draco wrapped his arms around her in response.

“What was all this about, love? Are you that worried about meeting my mum?”

“Yes, Draco, I want her to like me. I’m just – I’m afraid that she won’t because I’m a-”

“Hermione, my mother is not going to dislike you simply because you are a Muggle-born witch. She did have to stop a moment to allow the thought sink in. The idea that I could possibly be in love with a Muggle-born was new to her. Yet, she’s here, is she not? She wants to meet you, and get to know you, simply because I love you. That’s what matters to her, ‘Mione.” He drew a breath and realized something that had never really occurred to him before. “All my mother has ever wanted was for me to be happy.”

He tipped Hermione’s face up to meet his, and looked down seriously into her worried brown eyes.

“You make me happier than I have ever been before. Happier than I ever thought I could be. If she is as intelligent as I think she is, then my mother will see that, and she will love you for it.”

This seemed to relieve Hermione greatly because she pressed herself into Draco’s embrace flirtatiously. He bent his head slightly and captured her lips. He loved to sit like this with her and just kiss. She was always so sweet, and tasted a bit like candied apples.

While they hadn’t progressed much farther than snogging, Draco couldn’t complain too much. He didn’t want to rush her, even if he did feel sort unfulfilled lately. Not because he thought that she was lacking, but more from the overwhelming feeling of being sexually frustrated, and the only woman who would do was still such an innocent. However, her innocence seemed to be misplaced this afternoon, as Hermione shocked him by shoving a hand under his coat and inside his sweater. Her fingers were chilled but warmed quickly against his skin. He pulled back slightly and looked down into her eyes.

“Hermione?” He whispered, and her expression was clouded by passion. He’d never seen her quite this way before, and found himself stunned by the absolute feral beauty of her look.

“Draco, kiss me. I was so worried, but you set me at ease, so just stop talking and kiss me already!” Then she pulled him towards her and set about ravishing his mouth. He had originally been impressed by her steadfast effort to learn how he liked to be kissed; it tripled when she put all her hard-practiced knowledge to work. She nipped his lips, and dallied her tongue in the corners of his mouth. When he parted his lips for her insistent tongue, she swallowed his growl of pleasure.

Draco couldn’t keep still any longer. His hands found their way between the open front of her heavy jacket and up under her blouse in record time. She shivered a little when his cold hands met her warm flesh, and moaned quietly when he used that cold to his advantage on the underside of her breasts. He could feel the soft cotton of her bra, and his heart swelled, wanting to see how beautiful she looked in only her underwear. As soon as the image had taken root, another part of his anatomy swelled with anticipation.

He tugged his hands free in order to divest her of her coat, before his fingers began fumbling with the buttons on her soft green blouse. Hermione tipped her head back slightly, her soft pants for breath making tiny little clouds in the air. Draco took advantage of the situation, by nibbling and kissing his way down the side of her neck and lowering her backward to lie on the ground. He cushioned her head with her coat, and helped her to straighten out her legs underneath him.

He laid half on top of her, not wanting to rush, but not wanting to stop. Hermione didn’t seem to mind and set to removing his jacket and sweater as well. He paused in his attempt at opening her shirt to strip his up and over his head, flinging them over her to settle on the ground somewhere. He no longer cared about his appearance when they got to his mother, all he wanted to be as close to Hermione as humanly possible.

He finally managed to get all the buttons loose from their closures, and leaned back slightly to look down on her form as he moved the shirt aside. Her breasts were not too small, but not too big, and fit into his hands perfectly. She was wearing a mint green bra, and it cupped her flesh like a lover would. Thinking this, Draco pressed his hands over her supple breasts. She shivered at the contact, and licked her lips. He leaned in to press a kiss to her collarbone, then trailed little nipping kisses like it down over the tops of her breasts and moved toward her nipple.

When he wrapped his lips around the tiny, cotton-enveloped bud, Hermione cried out in astonished pleasure. Draco stopped moving, and looked up at her face. She had her eyes shut tightly, and had pressed a hand into his hair at the back of his head. From all accounts she was enjoying this. He sucked lightly and nibble a bit, making her squirm and moan. Then he moved his attentions to her other nipple and repeated the treatment. The soft cotton of her bra didn’t last long in the warm, wet heat of his mouth, and the cold air tightened her neglected nipple even more.

Draco shifted his hips slightly, becoming uncomfortably aware that they would have to stop soon, or he was most likely going to disgrace himself. He didn’t want to put an end to their most enjoyable activity, but he knew that he didn’t want their first time together to be like this. Plus they had to meet his mother soon. Drawing back slowly, Draco kissed his way back up her chest to her lips and gave her one last, fierce kiss, before pulling away and sitting up. Hermione’s eyes flew wide open at his retreat, and frowned at him. He had to smile at the adorable way her eyebrows crinkled, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold and their heat.

“Why’d you stop?” She murmured, confusion emanating from her lust-befuddled mind. He kissed her forehead, and looked around for his clothes.

“We’ve got to get going, my love. We still have to walk back into town, and we’re supposed to meet my mum in-” he looked down at his watch, “just under half an hour.”

Alarm raced through her as her worries came rushing back. Scrambling to sit up, fasten her blouse and fix her hair all at once, Hermione hit her head on a piece of rock jutting out from their shelter. She groaned in pain, and felt a warm hand searching through her hair to find the sore spot. Her breath hitched when Draco brushed it with his well-intentioned fingers. Then his fingers were gone and replaced by the tip of his wand. Hermione held very still, unsure what he was planning on doing. He muttered softly under his breath, and just like that, all the pain vanished. Hermione could even feel the bump receding, and doubted highly that there would even be a bruise to show for her encounter with the side of the mountain. When he sat back, Hermione looked at him again.

“Where did you learn a healing spell like that? That wasn’t in any of our textbooks.” He chuckled softly at her questioning, and pulled his sweater into place. There was a wet spot on the front of it, where it had landed in a pile of snow, and he steamed it off with his wand.

“Trust my ‘Mione to be more worried about the spell I used and what book I got it out of than the fact that she nearly concussed herself with a mountain.” Hermione had the good grace to blush and finished fastening her blouse. It was a little wrinkled, but with a swirl of her wand was set to rights.

“Thank you for doing it. I just wondered because it doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing that they would teach Slytherins. It seems more of a Hufflepuff thing to me.” He looked at oddly as he brushed his hand through his hair, settling it back into place.

“Why wouldn’t they teach that to Slytherins? We’re humans too, we get hurt.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just never really thought about it. It’s more that Hufflepuffs are that sort of soft-hearted personality that lends to them learning more about healing magic. I didn’t mean to imply anything offensive by it.” Draco ran a hand down her cheek, before helping her climb to her feet. Hermione extinguished their fire with a flick of her wand.

“I know. If you must know, it was one of the first things I ever learned, as far as magic goes. My mother used to use it on me when I got hurt, and it sort of stuck in my memory. It’s really easy to do.” He gave her a sidelong glance, and offered, “I could show it to you one of these days, especially if you help me with my Patronus charm. I happened to overhear you talking to Ginny one day about it. An otter, right?”

Hermione smiled up at him, “You’ve been spying on me, have you?” Then she laughed. “But yes, my Patronus is an otter. Dreadfully clever creatures, you know. And so cute.” She giggled and he grinned.

“So, exactly like you then?” He teased, and they began their descent back down to the village. She tucked her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked down at her, a silly half-smile on his lips. He had never seen her so silly before. Stubborn, yes. Thoughtful, all the time. Studious, nonstop. But he’d never seen her giggly and so flirtatious like this before.

He wondered if it was because of her lack of nerves that her guard was down, or if it had something more to do with the exchange up on the mountain. Either way, Draco decided he liked this side of his Hermione just as much as he loved her other facets of personality. She was beautiful any way she was, and this just lent some added cuteness to her demeanor.

As they walked back towards the Three Broomsticks, they chatted about little insignificant things, and he flirted with her. For not really having had much experience with it, Draco was pleasantly surprised with how well she held her own against his charm. He’d always known she was smart as a tack, but it was a delight to have her wit used in a more flattering way than he’d been privy to before. It was beginning to get dark out as they entered the Three Broomsticks and went upstairs. His mother, not one for dining with the masses, had taken out a suite of rooms, and they would be having tea with her there. Draco knocked on the door to his mother’s rooms, leaning toward Hermione to whisper,

“My mum won’t eat you, but I can’t make the same promises for myself.” She giggled softly and bit her lip, grinning widely. He was contemplating pulling her closer for a quick kiss when the door opened. Hermione looked past him into the warm, welcoming sitting area, and gave him a soft nudge forward to recall his attention to the situation at hand. He turned and straightened.

Narcissa Malfoy stood on the other side of the doorway, smiling at them. It was a relief to see her smiling, so much so that Draco actually forgot for a moment that he’d been so worried about his mother. He ushered Hermione into the room ahead of him. Then he turned to his mother, and gave her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her skin was smooth and pale, but not so much so that he was worried about her not eating. She also had a graceful air that had been missing the last time he’d seen her. He presented his girlfriend to his mother.

“Mum, I’d like you to meet the reason I have no heart, Miss Hermione Granger. ‘Mione, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy.” Both women looked at his strangely but it was Hermione who found words first.

“Why am I the reason you have no heart, Draco?” She sounded teasing, but her face tensed slightly at his proclamation. He turned a dazzling smile on her.

“Because you went and stole it, of course.”

Narcissa laughed softly, and Hermione smiled, relaxing her shoulders. Then his mother turned to Hermione and extended a long-fingered hand. Hermione shook it gently and returned her smile.

“Welcome, Hermione, it is so wonderful to meet you. I have heard some very good things about you.” Then she led the way to the table set up nearby and they all sat down.

Draco made sure to pull out the ladies’ chairs for them, and was flustered when his mother gave him a look, her eyebrow raised in question. He realized then that his unusually gentlemanly manners were more to impress Hermione than his mother, and Draco colored slightly, seating himself in a hurry. He didn’t need to impress Hermione; she already loved him the way that he was. Narcissa poured the tea and handed a cup to Hermione who accepted it with thanks.

“That’s a lovely brooch you are wearing, Mrs. Malfoy. Is that emerald?” Hermione ventured quietly suddenly very unsure of where to begin. Narcissa looked down at the brooch in question, then back at her young guest.

“Yes it is. It was a wedding gift to me from my mother. She received it from her mother when she was married.”

“How sweet, I love family traditions like that.” Hermione sighed. “Although it does sort of make me miss spending Christmas with my family.”

“Do you have special things you normally do for the holidays?” Narcissa inquired politely, but not without interest.

“Yes, every year, my mum bakes gingerbread cookies, using my great-grandmother’s recipe, and we used to all go out as a family to pick a Christmas tree together. My dad likes to try and sing carols on Christmas Eve, no matter how much mum and I try to persuade him not to, and then on Christmas morning, we would light up the tree and open our gifts together.” Hermione’s eyes took on a distant, sort of wistful look as she remembered. Draco smiled slightly.

“So, it’s not really all that different than how we used to spend our Christmas.” He said quietly, suddenly longing for him and Hermione to have those same special family traditions. Him and Hermione, have traditions as a family? He didn’t know why the thought didn’t startle him. Perhaps it was because he already felt like they had so much going for them; there was no way he could bear to be without her.

Hermione talked to his mum for some time over the importance of family and traditions, and being together with those you loved, especially at the holidays. He could tell that his mother was skeptical of Hermione’s viewpoint at first since it so greatly resembled that of their family. But as she kept speaking, it showed that Narcissa had come to realize that Hermione wasn’t trying to impress by adopting her views, she was merely speaking from her heart.

Narcissa could also tell that her son was paying very close attention to every word that fell from the brunette witch before her. He was so attentive that he bypassed his favorite sweets sitting on the table in front of him, in favor of listening and watching this young woman speak. She was fluent, and had an excellent vocabulary, expressing herself clearly, and without much ado. She was a little bushy-haired, and if Narcissa hadn’t seen the spark of intelligence, she would have thought her unassuming and a bit plain.

But the more Hermione spoke, the more Narcissa grew to like her and could see for herself the beauty that had so captured Draco. He had chosen well for himself, and she was proud of how well her son had turned out.

Hermione realized not long after she had been sitting there, that she rather liked Mrs. Malfoy. For one who had always seemed so proud and distant, it was a pleasant surprise to find her so warmly receiving. She had seemed a touch reticent when Hermione had first begun the conversation, but after a few minutes of their sharing opinions, Narcissa had opened up and warmed to the topic, and her guest. Draco was remaining silent, the better to allow her to talk to his mother, Hermione assumed, because every now and then he would add his own thoughts, and then fall silent again.

It began to grow late, and when the clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour, Hermione was shocked to see how quickly time had flown by. Narcissa looked up at the clock as well. Sighing softly, she looked back at the young couple.

“I suppose I should allow you two to get back up to the castle. I wouldn’t want you to be too late getting back, and the later it gets, the more dangerous it is to be out and about. It’s already dark.” Draco got to his feet at a look from his mother and helped Hermione out of her chair and into her coat.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Mrs. Malfoy. I really had quite a wonderful time, and it was very sweet of you to include me.” Hermione smiled and extended her hand in farewell. Narcissa brushed it away, giving Hermione a tentative hug instead.

“Nonsense, my dear girl. It is I who must thank you. I have not seen my Draco so happy, and it pleases me to no end to know that he has such an incredible young woman as yourself to keep him company. He’s been so terribly depressed since his father went away. We both have, and it’s a miracle that you’ve rendered here. I haven’t seen him smile so much in as long as I can recall.”

Hermione, unsure of how to respond, merely hugged Nariccsa back, adding in a whisper to the older woman,

“It’s no trouble at all. He’s a wonderful young man, and has done his fair share of cheering me up as well.”

They said thank you and goodbyes again, and then Draco and Hermione bustled out into the cold night air. It was not snowing, and the wind wasn’t overly fierce, making for a soft, pleasant walk back towards the castle. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and the beams reflected off the snow, making it sparkle and brighten their path. Draco tucked an arm about Hermione’s waist.

“I had a really great time tonight, Draco. Thank you so much.” Draco squeezed her closer in a half-hug as they kept moving.

“Don’t thank me; my mum was the one who thought of it. But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. She truly likes you, you know. My mother doesn’t just hug anybody. You’ve really gotten her to love you.”

“I like your mother. I can see why someone would be intimidated by her, but she’s really such a lovely woman. I think that we get along really well!”

“I’m thrilled to hear that. I have reason to believe that you and she will be spending more time together in the future.”

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