Life in an Alien Land 1: In the Land of My Enemy

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Life in an Alien Land

Chapter 10

It had been a month since Draco had resurfaced; a month in which Hermione hung in a limbo of emotional upheaval as she began the arduous task of teaching him the magic he had lost when he was injured. Snape was the one to choose her for the task, citing the fact that as a Muggle-born, she would be infinitely more suited to teaching him to realign his Muggle-trained perceptions to that of the wizarding world. At first, Hermione had resisted, feeling too raw from the shock of the situation to deal with the emotions that his presence wrought. Snape had finally ordered her to do as she was told, with his cold assessment, "One would think a know-it-all would relish the opportunity to show off their knowledge."

Hermione had been restrained from violence against the Headmaster by Ginny who roundly cursed her husband in the foulest of terms. Hermione finally looked at the man's eyes, and saw that his cruel words were an act to cover his distress at Draco's situation. She had capitulated on the spot.

It was strange to note that the type of spell damage he had suffered seemed to leave him strangely blank on most details of his life, but had left him with enough knowledge to function as a magical child would. He had confirmed that he had bouts of accidental magic when under duress; he had known the Elder Wand was important and he had dreams of Hermione. He had blushed when he said this, suddenly unable to look at her.

Hermione could guess the nature of those dreams. The same type had plagued her, moreso since he had reappeared.

Now she sat in the empty Arithmancy classroom, their designated meeting spot, awaiting him. He continued to live at the Avery's cot until the Constable’s office found a suitable replacement for him. Hermione knew he visited Lucius in his rare free time, but his father had been told not to tell Draco of his old life or the affliction of his madness, lest Draco's recovery be set back. Hermione had been put under the same type strictures and told not to force a relationship for which he was unready. She despaired he ever would be. Suddenly she felt as she had at the beginning of their association, inadequate, ugly and gauche. Perhaps it would have been better if she had never loved him as a broken child. It would have been easier to accept him as the whole man he was now.

Strangely, the Avery girl gave Hermione the most solace in regards to the man the child knew as Drew. Niamh spoke with Hermione daily ostensibly to visit the children, but she imparted bits of her life with Drew that made Hermione realise that even though he was without his memory, he was the same man even if some of his reactions were alien to her.

The Floo flared and Hermione paused in her reading to see the man of the hour stepping through. He entered the room with a stumble. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to that."

He smiled broadly, a thing he never had done before as a Malfoy. Hermione was more used to his sneering and obsessive attentions, yet she responded to him as if he really were her Draco once more.

"That's just what Harry used to say." Hermione answered unthinkingly.

Draco paused in brushing himself off, asking with some reticence, "Harry, is that someone I should know?"

Hermione cursed her stupidity, casting about for an answer that would not reveal too much to him. Finally, she sighed, "He was just a friend I used to have. He died in a battle."

"Oh, that's good." Draco said without malice then flinched. "I mean, it's not good that he's dead. It’s just that you paused so long, I thought he might be your new boyfriend."

Hermione laughed aloud, the implication of Draco's statement not lost on her. "Let's start you with a review."

He assumed his stance, the one she had taught him for defence and waited for her to direct him.

Hermione began the lessons with the rudimentary first-year Charms he had mastered. Their next night would be for Transfiguration. He was doing well. It was almost as if he had some physical memory of the material they covered. They alternated his lessons so that he would eventually learn all of the first-year curricula including Potions, by Yule. She watched him practice for an hour until the evening bell signified it was time for dinner in the Great Hall, usually the time that he left for his shift in the Constable's office on weeknights. Tonight, however, he simply placed his wand in its holster and turned to her, his expression troubled. "Miss Granger... Hermione, I was wondering if... It's ridiculous for me to be afraid, really, but I was wondering if you and the children would consent to join me for dinner tonight. Mum won't mind feeding the extra mouths, and I would like to get to know you better, considering..."

"I don't know." Hermione said stalling by tapping the perfectly aligned parchments she had been grading against the desk. "The Healers say I shouldn't encourage any liberties with you..."

"...Unless I'm ready for them." He grimaced. "I'm not made of glass, you know. I asked you, and if I think I'm ready to eat with you then it's my choice. It's not as if I asked you to let me get a leg over or... Never mind."

For a moment, Hermione could see a glimmer of the imperious and arrogant man-child he had been, even through the flush of embarrassment staining his sun-kissed face. Her arms ached to hold him and her body wept to give him entry. She nodded, unable to give voice to her answer lest her traitorous emotions give way to the longing she felt.

"Of all the things I've forgotten, losing my memories of you seem the worst to bear." He touched her cheek with his work-roughened fingertips. "I know it's hard on you, this situation, but let me try to get to know you and m-my children once more. Perhaps... "

He stepped closer and claimed her lips with a tentative touch. Hermione sank into his caresses, which continued until both of them were breathless with desire. He pulled back first and with a rueful laugh said, "You know, for all intents and purposes, I'm still a virgin, and that was my first kiss."

Hermione suppressed a moan at the thought of an innocent Draco Malfoy being seduced by her, the plain-Jane Gryffindor misfit. She pulled out of his grasp. "Let me get the children, and I'll join you at the Avery's shortly."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a desk. "Oh no, Mum'll have my head if I let you come alone. I'll help you with the children and then we'll be on our way."

As they exited the room Draco added, "I go by Drew at home. It's just easier."

He looked past Hermione a sheepish expression on his face. She took his hand and replied, "I understand. My mother used to call me Jean at home. She said Hermione was too long to shout properly when I was in trouble."

&*&*&

Maeve watched the two as the evening wore on. She had not wanted to like the girl when they first met, but Hermione had immediately won her approval by the devastation she felt upon seeing her man brought so low. Even so, Hermione was a little posh for Maeve's tastes, though she knew she fit in with the crowd they had met on the night he was rediscovered by his people.

When Miss Granger had first explained her relationship to both men of the Malfoy clan, Maeve had been scandalised. As time wore on, however, Hermione had just seemed another in a long list of victims that were coming out of the Southern Upheaval as it was called in Yorkshire. The Voldemort fellow had not shat where he ate, so to speak, and had left Little Hangleton relatively unscathed until the night of the firestorm.

Maeve now knew it was Drew that had caused the fiery tempest to sweep the village, burning houses, animals and humans too infirm to take cover, but he had stopped a worse war from building. Even now, four years after the wizard's war, foreign soldiers could be seen in the countryside in their big HumVees and Tanks, guns on their shoulders and eyes hardened by what they had seen elsewhere in the British Commonwealth. English soil, which had not been despoiled since the Normans, now held Yanks, Germans and the variegated U.N. troops. Maeve wanted to blame young Drew's father for that, but knew it was no one's fault but the one who had been vanquished. She would never have credited the more fantastic portions of the story, if she had not been to Drew’s old home and met his father and the others.

Maeve sat the girl and her children in the parlour, even though Miss Granger offered help in her polite and proper way. The older woman had waved off her offer so that she could see what progress, if any, those two had made in the last month. The Maeve may have had reservations about the girl, but her boy needed his family. Moreover, the children, no matter whose they were, needed a father. Maeve saw the sad and hungry look in the girl's eyes when young Drew held the children, or when he told her about his life with the Averys. She also noted the way Miss Granger stroked her child's silken hair when Drew held one or the other. She was a good mother, that one.

Drew, for his part, watched Miss Grangerl as if he were afraid she would flee or turn into something fantastical. Maybe both. When the Professor told him of some small element of her day, a shadow crossed his face, the same one that had been present when Niamh had found him in the rubble, but then, Miss Granger would turn her smile to him, and he would relax. There was definitely something between them, even if he could not remember at all, and she remembered too much.

Maeve purposely served plain fare, wanting to see what the posh girl would do with a rib-sticking farm meal. The mutton stew was done to a turn with potatoes, carrots and a thick gravy. Hermione tucked in as if she had not seen food in a week. A hearty appetite in a woman boded well for Drew's future with her. It spoke well of other appetites. Maeve had not raised two boys to be ignorant of young Drew's almost nightly dreams and his morning activities in the shower.

The two children looked at the food and picked. Maeve knew just what they were like at that age and fussed with them as Liam, and Delia asked after Niamh.

"She's not in my classes, but I hope to have her in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes in third-year." Hermione answered in a sweet kind of way that won Maeve's approval. Miss Granger darted a glance at Maeve. "Your daughter is very bright and a very powerful witch. I think she'll go far in our world."

"Get on wi' you." Liam chimed in with a scoffing laugh. "I bet they teach you to say that to all mum's. Our Niamh's probably just average."

Miss Granger bristled for a moment, her warm, brown eyes going narrow until Drew joined in with his brother's laughter. He placed his firm, square-nailed hand on top of hers, and said, "We're all proud of our little Nave, we just don't want her to get big-headed."

Miss Granger pulled her hand away as if burned by his touch. "Mrs. Avery, may I be excused?"

"Certainly," Maeve thought she saw the glimmer of tears as the girl left the room. She turned to little Scorpius as he took a handful of potato and shoved it into his mouth with a squeal.

&*&*&

Another week and another lesson found Draco with a burning libido and an erection that would not stop, no matter how many times he pictured vile things like the hirsute Vicar in a bathing costume or Harold in a dress. The dreams had not abated and seemed to haunt him through his daily activities. He spent the hours between his lessons in a constant state of arousal. He wanted to pin his teacher to the desk and plunder her mouth once more. He wanted to open her legs and sink balls-deep in her. He lusted for her, but knew that was not enough for her, not after her reaction to his touch during the dinner at home.

"Draco, is something wrong?" She asked as he realised he had stopped practicing. He had been bewitched by the way she stroked the quill’s feathered tip on her lips as she wrote. He had never realised the act of writing could be so sensual.

He felt a blush steal over his cheeks. "No, nothing."

"It looks like you're having trouble with the spell." She said, an obvious lie, because he saw her glance dart to his bulging trousers. "Let me help you."

She stood behind him, one hand grazing his wrist lightly as she placed her other on his hip. He made the motion as she guided him through it. The unlocking spell failed. "Here, you stand behind me, and I'll show you how it's done."

He took his place, his cock resting on her buttocks as she brushed against him. He felt, rather than saw her blush and suddenly, she was on her back on the nearest table and he was on top of her, nearly losing control as they pressed against each other. His eyes rose to her hair, a beautiful mass of honeyed gold in the flickering light of the fire. He roved her body, drawing her lush curves against him as she moaned against his neck. His hands moved under her jumper, and up to her peaked breasts and she gasped, just as she did in the dream. He exposed the mounds to the light, her distended nipples brown against the creaminess of her skin. He laved one and then the other, noting with interest, the lack of the milk really made no difference to him, as he tasted the sweetness of her skin and the salty tang of her musk. He moved lower, wanting to feel her wetness against his face and taste the flow of her release. He had done this before, his body told him so. She moved restively under his hands as she gave a cry...

"Draco?"

He paused, realising with a start that he was standing in the middle of the practice area, with his wand in mid-cast. Hermione was looking at him quizzically. "Draco, is something wrong?"

"No," he managed to croak before shakily placing his wand back in its holder. "Perhaps... perhaps I need to learn from someone else."

She recoiled slightly, and then said through lips held stiff, "I see."

"No, I don't think you do." He sat atop a desk, his feet swinging, the fleeting feeling of familiarity calming his erratic pulse. He patted the spot next to him on the table and gave her the look that worked best when he was in a spot of trouble with one of the girls or Mum. "Please?"

Hermione gave a small, tight smile. "I never could resist when you did that."

She joined him, crossing her legs at the knee, from what he could see under the acres of fabric that covered her from neck to ankle. He decided he hated wizarding robes. He took her hand in his, focusing his attention on a small water spot that marred the plastered ceiling of the room. “I have certain feelings for you, and I can’t seem to concentrate when you’re around”

He leaned in to touch her cheek, painfully aware of the tension that thrummed between them. She licked the same lips that had given him such an erotic vision before. His eyes traced the moisture before his lips followed, tasting the sweetness of them. It was a mere breath of a touch, but he felt a jolt of desire as he deepened the kiss. She pressed her body against his, letting him mould her against his hard chest, her heavy breasts near his hand. He cupped one and her reaction was immediate. She pulled back as if in pain. Draco ran his fingers through the stubble on his head. “I’m sorry, that was... It’s just that I dream of your breasts.”

He looked away, aware of the flush moving up his neck. “I think I used to use you in a not so pleasant way.”

“Oh, no it was quite pleasant.” Hermione answered thickly. “You don’t remember, so perhaps I shouldn’t tell you.”

She was suddenly on her feet and away from him, her teaching desk between them. Draco followed and crouched before her. “I think I do remember.”

“No, you really don’t.” Hermione sat, and Draco caught of whiff of her musk. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. “You were... I shouldn’t say.”

He laid his hand on her hip. “I think... I think I liked to be with you and... Drink from you while we together. I know it’s sick, but that’s what I first saw when I met you again.”

“Yes.” Hermione gave a soft sob. “It wasn’t bad, you were just... Things were very different before the war ended. You were different. I don‘t know who you are now.”

“D’you like me?” Draco asked diffidently, looking away as he spoke. “Because if you don’t, I’ll find some way to be with the children where you don’t have to be around me, and I’ll learn on my own. I’m a quick study.”

Hermione placed her hands on his cheeks, drawing his stormy gaze to hers. “Never doubt that I love you, whether you remember me or not.”

He smiled, but still felt wrong-footed with her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I did.”

“Not.”

Hermione dimpled prettily as she said, “Too.”

“Not.” Draco answered again, a playful pout creeping onto his face. “I asked you if you liked me. You did not answer.”

The woman before him became serious, her brow wrinkling as she said, “Honestly, I think I like you more now than I ever did before. I hope that doesn’t hurt you.”

He pulled her hand to his lips. “No, it doesn’t. I don’t know that man from before. I don’t think I’d like him, really, if he could make you do what I dreamed.”

She looked away, her colour high. “It wasn’t so bad, once I got used to it. You seemed to need it at the time.”

He scoffed and rose. “I think I need to find out more about this fellow, Draco Malfoy. I’m still Drew Avery, in my mind, I don’t know if the two men suit each other.”

“Just be careful, Draco,” Hermione cautioned. “You might not like everything you find, if you don’t try to understand what it was like before the war ended. We all did things we didn’t want to do.”

He turned from her, feeling the unease in her words. “I had that feeling.”

“So, can I still be your teacher?”

“Yeah, but only if you promise to go out with me Saturday,” he answered. “There’s a film I’ve wanted to see coming out.”

“It’s a date, as long as I can get Niamh to sit for me.”

Draco kissed her on the cheek; his pale grey eyes alight with happiness. “I’ll make sure she does.”

&*&*&

Draco followed Niamh to her dorm. The room was situated in what she explained was the old Hufflepuff Common Room. The new Headmaster had done away with the House system as soon as he had taken the post. Draco did not follow most of what she was saying but nodded affably as she showed him around the dorms, still called Hufflepuff, but housing first through third years. He carried Felix’s old jacket, the one that had been transfigured before and hoped she could work the same magic on it. He wanted to impress his teacher.

On the way up to her room, she paused before a portrait of several boys in odd uniforms, posing with brooms. Niamh pointed to a surly-looking, blond-haired boy. Draco immediately did not like the likeness of the boy as he pushed ahead of the others in the picture, especially after he saw him give a black-haired boy a shove. “That’s you, when you went to school here. You were a Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team. I’m going to try out when I’m old enough. There‘re still four teams, so I have a good chance of getting on one.”

“I was an arse.” Draco observed, discomfited by the photo-boy’s superior smirk.

Niamh plucked the jacket from his hands. “Still are.”

She ran up the rest of her stairs, breathless with laughter as Draco followed her.

&*&*&

It had been years since Hermione had to don Muggle clothes. She knew what she had was hopelessly out of date, so she chose to go with a simple, classic, red cardigan set and a conservative, pleated skirt made out of soft tweed. Her low-slung backless pumps finished the ensemble. As she looked at herself critically in the mirror, she realised she looked remarkably like her mother.

A knock on the door brought her out of her funk as she slipped away from the offending image, straightening her fuzzy mass of hair. Ginny stood at the door, and Hermione pulled her into the room. “Oh, thank the gods, Ginny. Look at me!”

Her voice rose to an almost wailing pitch as her friend surveyed her critically. Ginny pronounced after a full minute of consideration, “You look like someone’s mum.”

“I am someone’s mum, Ginny.” Hermione collapsed to the sturdy chair beside the fire. “Shite, I don’t even know how to be with him anymore.”

“The shoes are nice,” the redhead offered. “Perhaps if I... Stand up. I’ll fix you so that you’ll definitely catch his eye.”

Ginny began a complex series of wand movements and Hermione felt her skirt tighten and shorten, her black tights became silky stockings and her two-set became a shimmering red-silk blouse that showed more than a bit of cleavage. Hermione felt her underwear change and her plain, white brassiere vanish. She felt the silk brush her nipples, which had hardened in the coolness of the room.

“Ginny,” she warned. “I don’t want to give him the wrong idea about me.”

Mrs. Snape quirked her brow and sneered in imitation of her husband. “I think the cat’s out of the bag on that one, Hermione. You do have a child together.”

“I think I’ll call this off.” Hermione said. “He’s not the man I used to know, and who knows if he’ll even like me outside of the sexual attraction he feels for me.”

Ginny sat in the chair opposite her friend, her eyes alight with an almost unholy glee. “Do tell... You’ve discussed the big S-E-X?”

“No.” Hermione said over the choking lump in her throat. “I mean, he’s kissed me a couple of times, but... I don’t even know him anymore.”

“Good.” Ginny said dusting her hands together as she stood. “Then he won’t be like he was before. You need a man, not a little boy. I like him this way. He was broken before.”

“We all were.” Hermione answered. “I think we all still are sometimes.”

Ginny strode to Hermione and shook her by the shoulders. “Just have fun. Merlin knows you have had little enough in the past six years.”

The redhead made her way to the door. “And don’t try to Transfigure those clothes back. I made the spell permanent. Severus taught me.”

Ginny opened the door and stepped aside to let a shocked Draco enter. He asked, “How did you know I was out here?”

“I’m a witch.” Ginny said with a laugh and left the room.

“Nave will be here in a few minutes.“ Draco said as he followed Ginny’s exit and then turned to Hermione. “You look... Good.”

His eyes swept her from her feet to her head, lingering on her breasts as she covered herself uneasily. “I just wish you’d wear your hair down. I like it that way, it looks like you... just tumbled out of bed.”

He pulled her to him then, and gave her a drugging kiss that left her feeling lethargic and antsy at the same time. Heat pooled in her belly and she felt the inadequate knickers that Ginny left her with, begin to collect her moisture. He pulled away from her, his arms still around her waist. “I want you, but I won’t push you into anything you’re not ready for, all right?”

Hermione wanted to scream that she had four years of readiness, but knew the time was not right for them to sleep together. She wanted both of them to be sure about their feelings and not act on past memories or dreams. She gave a nod, still uncomfortable from his sensual assault. He moved his fingers against her upper back and raised his brow at the discovery of her state of under-dress. Hermione pulled away. “Ginny Transfigured these clothes for me. I didn’t mean to... “

Draco lowered his head again and with a soft growl of approval kissed her, his long fingers straying to her ribcage, brushing the underside of her breasts. Hermione moaned as he moved his finger to flick a distended nipple through the fabric of her blouse, unheeding of the open door to her quarters.

“Miss Granger?” Niamh’s voice came from the hallway. Both adults pulled apart, Draco turning Hermione so that she shielded his arousal from the girl’s eyes. Niamh entered, her face as red as a beetroot and her gaze darting about the room. Her eyes lit on anything but her teacher and her brother. “I suppose the tykes are already abed?”

Draco was the first to recover, more used to Niamh than Hermione was. “Thanks Nave, for your help. I’ll pay you later.”

As they left, Hermione tittered into her hand self-consciously. “At least she’s not in any of my classes yet.”

Draco draped his arm around her waist after he helped her into her coat at the main doors. “Yeah, you’ll just have to face her tonight when we get back.”

“Shut it, Malfoy.” Hermione laughed. “You’ll be there too.”

“Yeah, but you’re her teeeee-acher,” he teased. “I’m just her brother.”

They walked into the gloom of the descending night, hand in hand. Both of them feeling the rightness of the gesture, if Hermione could judge by the smile on Draco’s face. Things might work out between them, she thought. She realised she was happy for the first time since her ordeal began all those years before.


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