Vengeance

Vengeance
Chapter Eleven


000


Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this story, all Harry Potter copyrights belong to J.K. Rowling. I also do not own ‘Batman Begins’ which belongs to DC comics. Kudos to anyone who catches the reference.


000


“On wrongs swift vengeance waits.”


Alexander Pope


000


The orb was driving Draco insane.


It was the only explanation. Why else would he have incessant thoughts of Granger running around in his brain? Sure, as a student and later as an adult, he had fantasized about shutting Granger up in pleasurable ways, but this went far beyond erotic imagery.


He thought about her smile, her eyes, her scent, her laugh, and everything else that could even be remotely associated with Granger. He could be thinking of a safe, seemingly innocuous topic, like training. Then, randomly, he would wonder what training regimen Granger underwent. This then led to thoughts of Granger’s damp, flushed body, which naturally led to thoughts of hot, sweaty sex.


Alternatively, he would see his cousin and her moronic husband laugh at some inane joke and wonder what Hermione found humorous. When he found himself waxing poetic about her hair of all things, he knew he was going nutters.


What sort of spell was this? Could he have taken the Amortentia potion?


Draco was in Hermione’s tiny living room doing sit-ups. Mostly because he was bored, but he was also doing them in the hope that the pain would drain away the sentimental hogwash from his system. Erotic fantasies about Granger in her negligee were acceptable, but this new feeling of lovey-dovey goodness was not.


Exercise helped clear his mind. As he absent-mindedly counted his sit-ups, he wondered if it was the pain. His mind was certainly focused when Voldemort was torturing him- until the point where he started to go insane, of course. So perhaps pain in small doses was more effective? Maybe that was why McGonagall’s classes always stuck so well…


One hundred and one, one hundred and two…


As both Tonks and Shacklebolt were away on ‘business’ today, Draco was on break from training. However, he was bored, and since he didn’t want Tonks to kick his ass tomorrow, he decided to train a bit on his own. So that was how Draco came to be in the living room of Hermione’s little house, feet tucked under the sofa, counting crunches until doomsday and thinking random thoughts in a pain-induced haze.


One hundred and twenty-five, one hundred and twenty-six…


As Draco clenched his teeth at the burn, he felt the orb’s presence in the back of his mind. Draco had rationalized that it was the orb planting those ridiculous thoughts of Granger in his head for three very good reasons:


One: The incessant singing of the thing was driving him mad, thereby making him susceptible to all sorts of inconceivable notions.


Two: Granger was not in his proximity enough to cause these sorts of fantasies, so something else must be the source.


Three: He was usually around the bloody thing whenever he began to have these irrational thoughts.


One hundred and seventy, one hundred and seventy-one…


Draco was acutely aware of the cloth of his thin shirt sticking to his body with sweat. He felt the slide of the droplets down his brow and into his eyes as he grunted in time to his crunches. He blinked, trying to rid them of the sting, and wondered if he should fence this afternoon. He was getting quite proficient with the Japanese Katana as well as the more traditional Western blades. Shacklebolt thought he was almost ready to move onto the staff in a few weeks. I’ll show those bastards, Draco thought, not entirely sure if he meant the King’s minions or the Rebels, I’ll show them what a Malfoy can do.


Vague plans for a boring but productive afternoon solidified in his mind, when images of a tiny brunette witch suddenly filled his brain.


Dusky, rose-colored nipples on a pair of beautifully proportioned breasts, dark eyes sparkling in anticipation…


Draco stopped his sit-ups to glare at the orb on the mantel. “Will you quit that? I know what you are trying to do to me and it won’t work.”


The orb continued to glow innocently. Draco wanted to shake some sense into it, if, of course, inanimate objects had any sense to gain.


Draco doubted it.


An image of Hermione’s naked backside floated through his brain, but Draco was having none of it. Steel eyes narrowed in concentration as he banished the tantalizing image from his mind. He gracefully rose from the floor and glared at the innocuous stone.


“And don’t you try to placate me that way!” Draco sneered, “All you are doing is giving me a permanent hard-on and the need to wank three times a day to feel even remotely comfortable. I do not appreciate it, so please desist from this pointless fixation. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will come of it.”


The orb flickered apologetically, and hummed a soothing song that ran over Draco’s taut nerves like a calm brook.


“Better,” Draco nodded regally and then suddenly smiled slyly. “If you do as I say, we can have a lovely relationship. Now, about that wish… You wouldn’t be able to tell me about that would you? Show me images about that instead of a useless girl?”


The orb continued to pulsate in time to its song, uninterested.


“All right then, if you want to be difficult,” Draco glared at it intently, eyes searching for any changes in light patterns which might signal a positive response. “What about the Eleusinian Mysteries? Can you show me anything about that?”


At this, the orb brightened considerably, shining a deep fuchsia.


Draco smiled and cautiously probed it for more information. “You know about that, don’t you? All right then, now tell me…”


Draco wasn’t able to finish his statement, as a bedraggled Hermione Granger chose that moment to slam open the front door to the tiny house, shaking its wooden frame.


Marching up to an incredibly surprised Draco, she forcefully slapped her hands onto his chest and pushed his body onto the floor. Unresisting, he fell gracelessly onto it, smacking his head onto the wood. Hermione quickly descended after him, pinning his stunned form to the ground.


Dazed, he thought, I have got to be dreaming. Or in an orb-induced coma. There is no way Granger is here, playing out my wickedest fantasies.


But the firm pressure of her hand on his chest reminded him that she was real, the dark fire in her eyes promised unfathomable passion…


Hermione gathered up his shirtfront in her left fist as her face slowly lowered to his. Her eyes darkened and her pupils dilated. As she slowly licked her full lips, Draco’s mind was strangely blank, his body more aroused than he could remember.


She’s going to kiss me. Sweet Merlin, she’s finally going to kiss me.


“How the hell do I get into your fucking house Malfoy?”


Or not, Draco thought peevishly. What he had mistaken for arousal was in actuality the flush of anger. He should have expected it, really. Granger was not so easily seduced. Unfortunately.


The mood was shattered, but his body was still uncomfortably aroused. Hermione’s sneering lips were still a breath from his, her furious eyes glittering, and Draco couldn’t stand the close proximity of her heated, soft body without flipping her over and burying himself in her hot core. Unfortunately, that option was out of the question if he wanted to live. Instead, he shoved her off his prone form, and her startled body slid over the soft carpet and polished wood. Meanwhile he gathered his wits, and tried to suppress his feral desire.


Finally, he turned to her and smiled nastily, “Looking a mite under the weather today, Granger. Were you on the losing side of a tussle with your hairbrush?”


Hermione managed to look regal despite her disheveled appearance, and snarled, “I’ll ask you one more time, Malfoy, how the hell do I get into your bloody house?”


Draco glared at her and bared his gleaming white teeth. “Why the hell should I tell you?”


“Because I will cut your balls off with a rusty razorblade if you don’t.”


Even though Draco’s testicles were shrinking at that gruesome image, he refused to be cowed. “I want to come to the meetings.”


“Out of the question.”


“No deal,” Draco leaned against the wall, crossing his arms stubbornly.


Hermione’s jaw was clenched and her slim frame radiated tension, “Why?”


“I want to know what I am risking my neck for. And I also want to prevent you idiots from leading the Dark King straight to me.”


Hermione was silent for a moment, her eyes boring into his. Draco stared back, unimpressed.


“Fine. Meet me at Ginny’s house at three o’clock tomorrow.” Her mouth set into a grim line, “But I am warning you, Malfoy, I will not tolerate any of your crap. Also, if you betray us… well, let’s just say that what Voldemort did to you will seem like a lover’s kiss by comparison.”


Hermione stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her.


Draco looked at the orb on the mantel and said sardonically, “That went rather well, don’t you think?”


Pink light pulsed from the orb in answer, curling around Draco’s fingers comfortingly.


000


The meeting went surprisingly well.


The She-Weasel’s house was larger than Hermione’s and fit the leading members of the Rebellion quite nicely. Draco lounged on a comfortable settee near the fire and munched on a biscuit, watching everyone else watch him.


As he went to pour himself a cup of tea, Hermione rushed in.


“Sorry I’m late,” She said while unwrapping herself from a large, knitted scarf, “Rehearsal ran over today and… Why isn’t anyone talking?”


The former members of the Order of the Phoenix were silently watching Draco as if he were a snake- which, of course, he was.


“Didn’t I tell you Draco was to be included in this meeting?”


Millicent spoke quietly, “Yes, we knew, but you weren’t specific as to what information he is to be privy to.”


Hermione blinked, “Yes. I suppose that is true. Well, let’s get on with it.”


As Draco continued to munch, he listened very carefully to the conversation. His personality did not allow himself to blend into the background very well, but he did give it his best shot. He was Slytherin enough to know when to listen and shut the hell up.


Ginny fussed over Hermione as she sat on a divan near Draco. From their murmured conversation, he gathered that the She-Weasel didn’t like Granger’s job very much. Interesting.


The Werewolf then gave a most fascinating report on the state of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It was no surprise to anyone that Durmstrang had become a stronghold for Voldemort supporters overseas, and was a likely base of operations for Voldemort’s inevitable campaign to win the Continent. However, France was of more interest to Voldemort now. He had never had much of a hold there, so it was to be a more difficult obstacle to surmount. The Dark King could never resist a challenge.


Lupin told of Madame Maxime’s disappearance. She hadn’t been seen for a few months, but they hadn’t worried at the time because she was supposed to rendezvous with the Giants. But she hadn’t come back, and Lupin’s contacts in France couldn’t find her among the Giants. It was a worrying discovery, and it had a distinct effect on the people in the room.


Draco was lost in visions of screaming and burning… lost in the mind of a maniac. He carefully kept his face neutral as he thought about that horrible day. So much of that day is gone from my memory, but I could have sworn there was something…


Hermione interrupted his thoughts by sighing heavily, “She never was the same after Hagrid died. I hope… I hope that she is safe somewhere.”


Ginny, sitting at Hermione’s feet, looked up at her with tears in her eyes and took Hermione’s hand. Hermione squeezed it reassuringly.


Tonks cleared her throat loudly and spoke roughly, “Well. Onto the business at hand. Breaking into Malfoy Manor has turned out to be more of a challenge than we had thought. Any suggestions?”


“I need to go with her.”


Everyone turned to look at Draco, who had been silently watching the proceedings.


Ginny glared at him, her brown eyes gleaming with hatred, “Listen here you slimy bastard. Hermione is not going anywhere with you. You don’t even have the right to kiss her boots.”


Draco calmly took a sip of his tea and said, “I understand that you don’t necessarily like it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to go with her.”


Luna Lovegood gave him a quiet smile. “It’s because of your blood ties to Malfoy Manor, isn’t it?”


Draco was vaguely startled by her reasonable deduction, but covered it nicely. “Yes. To make it simple, the house has been designed not open to anyone outside of the family. Blood.” He set down his cup calmly and continued in serene, reasonable tones. “But if I do this, I want something. I want full access to all of the information and plans the Rebellion has against Voldemort.”


Hermione sent him a startled look, “Why?”


Draco smiled a mirthless smile and his eyes were cold, “Because I am going to kill that son of a bitch.”


Neville sighed and wiped the strain from his eyes. “Fine. It is decided. You will go on this mission with Hermione. However, if she is harmed in any way, or if our organization is compromised, your life will be forfeit. Understood?”


Draco nodded.


Hermione just looked at him with her deep, dark eyes. Then she turned and walked out of the door without saying a word.


Lavender Brown peered into the bottom of the teacup. Her heavy bangles jingled on her wrists as she turned her cup around. Blinking quickly, she gasped, “Oh dear! It seems… It seems this mission is… destined for doom!”


000


The next evening, Draco and Hermione were glaring at each other in the kitchen of Hermione’s little cottage. It was late at night, and although both of them were nursing large mugs of coffee, neither of them was awake enough to plan anything of importance. Therefore, Draco resorted to what he did best.


Making a pest of himself.


“Where the hell did you get these plans Granger?”


“Why would I tell you?”


“You might want to tell me because they are absolute bullshit.” He made an extravagant gesture with his arms as he swept his graceful hands over the plans, “Possibly the most inaccurate drawings I have ever seen. Did you make them yourself, perhaps?”


“No, the Ministry did.”


“When? In the Thirteenth Century?”


“Actually… that is relatively accurate.” Hermione gave him a little smile as she considered the plans again, and then shook her head in exasperation. “Your relatives must have been extraordinarily paranoid. All I could find was that lousy floor plan and a list of your wards. And obviously those are imprecise.”


“Rightly so. Why tell the Ministry more than it needs to know?”


“I’m quite scared right now.”


“Eh?”


“I actually agree with you.”


000


“Will you just listen for once?”


Hermione and Draco were on the floor in the small common space of Hermione’s house in front of the hearth, working late into the night a week later. Plans and maps were scattered around them in a haphazard fashion. At one point, one of them had gone to the camp kitchens and picked up a tray of fruits and cheeses that was now sitting precariously on an end table by the fire. The orb was strangely silent in their minds, quiet and content to hum a soft, soothing song.


Draco shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back against the sofa. “Why should I? You obviously have no idea of what you are talking about.”


“Excuse me!” Hermione crossed her arms and glared at Draco, “I have broken into the most secure buildings in the Wizarding world. I certainly know what I am talking about, and you would do well to listen!”


“Luck,” Draco sneered. He poured two glasses of Chardonnay as he spoke. “As far as I can see, you have been freakishly fortunate that your targets haven’t had a security system that was worth anything until now, or you would have been fucked.”


“I suppose.” Draco offered a glass of the cold wine, and Hermione accepted gracefully. She took a cautious sip and sighed in contentment. She smiled at Draco coldly, “Can we get back to planning now? I am tired of hearing you whine.”


Draco’s lips curved into a smile, “Bitch.”


“Bastard.”


“Ha! Poor comeback, Granger, as my parents were married. Cow.”


“Inbred git.”


“Mudblood.”


Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked, “How original. I haven’t heard that one from you before.”


Draco grinned, “Some traditions shouldn’t be broken Granger.” He leaned back to grab a bunch of grapes from the platter. Eyes gleaning wickedly, he popped one into his mouth. As he chewed, his pink tongue darted up sensually to lick a drop of juice from his lips.


Hermione’s eyes were fixated on that nimble organ as it traced his mobile mouth. She wondered what that tongue would feel like on her mouth, on her skin… Then she abruptly remembered whom she was fantasizing about. Her dark eyes snapped up to Draco’s smugly gleaming steel orbs.


Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the challenge hidden within them.


You want me. You will come to me, and I will make you feel.


She wondered how good he was at Legilimency. If he could read her mind right now, he would know how cold she was, and just how tempting his burning warmth really was to her. All of a sudden, she felt the full weight of her worries, felt the stress of her position cramp up muscles and rob her of breath.


She turned from his knowing eyes to look into the dancing flames in the grate. “I’m tired of planning. Let me rest my eyes for a moment.”


“What? The tireless Hermione Granger wants to take a break?”


She glared at him, hating his cool, mocking gaze. “Yes. So shut up for a moment.”


Draco astonishingly kept quiet. For a few precious moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.


Draco, unsurprisingly, was the first to break their silence, “So, uh, you stayed with me the whole time I was injured.”


“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”


Draco scooted close to Hermione to fill her empty goblet with the crisp wine. He leaned over her body to reach the glass, ghosting her skin with his. He smiled cockily and said, “Yes. Aren’t you going to answer my question?”


Hermione huffed partly in exasperation, partly to dispel the lingering warmth of Draco’s body. “You aren’t going to shut up unless I do, right?


“Right.”


Hermione sighed and turned to look at him, “Yes. Yes, I did stay with you.”


There was an awkward pause as both Hermione and Draco seemed to realize their close physical proximity. Their faces were close, so close that their breath mingled and fused. For once, Hermione’s dark brown eyes were not hard, they were incredibly soft looking, like old, lovingly worn velvet. If Draco had the courage, if he moved now, he could claim those soft lips for his own…


Hermione shifted her gaze away hurriedly. She edged away from Draco, moving to add wood to the fire jerkily, like a startled animal.


Draco cleared his throat awkwardly and spoke in a croaking whisper, “How did you explain that to your dancers?”


Hermione looked at him as if he were the village idiot. He certainly felt like it after that bit of verbal diarrhea. Sarcastically, she said, “Even dancers at gentleman’s clubs get vacation, Malfoy. Would look strange if I didn’t take one every once in awhile, actually.”


“So where did you go on this fictitious vacation?”


“Hawaii, actually. I even had the pictures and tan to prove it.”


“Sounds lovely. Too bad you are too much of a stick-in-the-mud to actually go.”


000


Draco was hiking through the woods with Granger. He really had no idea where they were going, as he and Granger were not on civil speaking terms now for some reason unknown to him. Women were strange like that sometimes, he supposed. However, he did not mind too much, as her swaying walk was much more entertaining than listening to her bitch at him. Although this adventure was a good deal better than training with Shacklebolt, he had really had enough of nature, i.e. mud, to last him a few years. Except for that small hot spring that he had discovered a few kilometers from the camp, all of that earthy shit could be blasted to oblivion for all he cared.


Idly glancing at the gracefully waving branches of the trees overhead, he noted the changes in color. How long had he been here in the Rebel camp? Was it really only a few months? He had gone to Voldemort in early summer and it was already autumn.


Draco furrowed his brow slightly as he thought of his time here. Was it really so bad? Once the little Mudbloods had grown used to him, he had found them to be quite… normal. With an adult perspective and the ideals fed to him during his youth jaded and worn, he felt he could judge the worthiness of those children more accurately.


Did they deserve magic?


He supposed that was the question underlying this stupid conflict. Voldemort had used the Pureblood fear of these children’s serendipitous magical powers to further his own ends. Muggle-borns were different. They had strange customs and mannerisms that Purebloods didn’t understand.


And one always fears what they don’t understand.


As they weaved through the woods, Draco thought about Tom Riddle. In the end, he was just a power-hungry, opportunistic man. Draco understood that and admired him for it. Voldemort came and preyed on the rising fear of change, and united the Purebloods against a common enemy. After the last battle, when Pureblood supremacy had been assured, like good little peons, Voldemort’s pure followers gratefully gave him the throne.


Voldemort had scammed them all in a quest for power.


And they had bought it.


Draco supposed that was what bothered him the most. He had been so easily controlled, and his father and his grandfather before him had been artfully conned by a power-hungry lunatic. He was a Slytherin, descended from a long line of Slytherins. They were the masters of manipulation, not the suckers who were manipulated.


As Draco was thinking deeply of Mudbloods, Magic, and Maniacal rulers, his surroundings faded, and the sounds dimmed.


Therefore, he didn’t notice when Hermione stopped.


Still thinking, Draco stepped confidently forward and plowed into Hermione’s back. With a shout of surprise, Draco felt his footing slip in the soft, rain-slick earth. His face full of soft brown curls, Hermione’s warm body pressed against his, his arms wind milled wildly to keep his balance.


It was a lost cause, and both Draco and Hermione tumbled to the ground.


Draco was pressed against Hermione’s backside, her smooth, full curves rubbing against the length of his body. It was heaven. It was hell. He was exactly where he wanted to be, but he could not do anything about it, or Hermione would hex his balls off.


However, he could use this situation to his advantage. He was a Slytherin after all.


“Granger, I think your hair is choking me.”


“Get off me you bloody arse!”


Under the guise of fumbling, Draco covertly caressed Hermione’s firm buttocks and trim waist.


When he finally lifted himself off her, Hermione’s face was flushed and her pupils were dilated. It was difficult to tell if her state was due to desire or anger, but Draco preferred to think it was desire. After all, who wouldn’t desire him?


Draco stood stiffly, brushing off the dirt from his clothes. It was annoying that he had gotten filthy, but the opportunity to touch Hermione had almost made it worth it. Almost. He didn’t have as many clothes as he used to, and he had rather liked these trousers. Sniffing in disdain and quickly scouring his knees with a cleaning spell, he made to hike on, but Hermione was still sitting on the ground.


Her eyes spat angry sparks as she glared at him, “Sit back down, you pansy.”


“What?”


“I said sit down!” Hermione rolled her eyes, “I stopped for a reason, idiot.”


Draco huffed at that, but sat down as instructed.


Hermione glared at him for a moment, and then took a deep breath to calm herself. “Right, as you insist on coming with me on this mission, you will need to prepare yourself.”


“What do you think I have been doing for the past few months? I am more than ready. Even Shacklebolt says so.”


Hermione felt the beginnings of a headache coming on and rubbed her temples, “Must you always argue with me? I am aware of your progress, physically. What I meant is that you need to acquire a few special skills to be proficient at thievery.”


Draco scowled, “I am already quite adept at Occlumency and Legilimency.” He shot her a mocking smile, “What else do you deem necessary, oh great thief?”


“You need to become an animagus. Hopefully your animal isn’t totally useless. Not that I am expecting anything.”


Draco rolled his eyes, “Alright, I can see the benefits of that. So why the hell did you have to go five kilometers into the bloody woods to tell me that?”


“We needed to go into the woods, Malfoy, because you need to meditate in a natural environment to focus on your inner animal. Can we get started, or do you want to whine some more?”


He glared at her and sullenly said, “Fine.”


Hermione explained the basics of meditation and the principles behind the animagus transfiguration. Draco didn’t really listen. He would study it himself and try it later. He was more focused on the way her red lips moved, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked upon a subject that captured her interest. Once a know-it-all, always a know-it-all, Draco thought.


“… Malfoy? Are you ready? Are you even listening?”


Draco snapped out of his trance, “Oh? Yes.”


“Then let’s begin our meditation.”


Hermione closed her eyes and started to breathe in an even, regulated manner. Draco supposed he was to do this also, so he closed his eyes as well. After a few minutes of this, he began to get bored. This is bullocks. I have no idea what I am doing, and the ground is freezing. Stupid bint.


Draco cracked open his eyes from his ‘meditation’ and looked at Hermione. She was calm, for once. He had noticed during their time together that she was always on alert, always ready for… something. Overflowing with an excess of energy, her body could burst into motion at any time.


“I have to ask, why did you want us to know the orb was taken?”


Hermione opened her eyes and glared at him. “What are you talking about this time? And why aren’t you meditating?”


“Tsk, tsk. Answering a question with a question, what poor manners! But really, we wouldn’t have known about the robbery if the guard wasn’t left unconscious. I want to know why.”


“Well, one doesn’t always get what one wants.”


“I do.”


“Not this time.” Hermione’s eyes darkened until they were almost black, and her voice became hoarse. “Some things are never meant to be given.”


Draco stoically took in her silence. He closed his eyes to attempt to meditate, and felt rather than heard her sigh.


Malfoys always get what they want, Draco’s inner voice purred.


000


Hermione was so frustrated with Draco Malfoy she could scream.


His arrogance, his posturing, and his condescending attitude - absolutely everything about him - chafed her raw until she was bristling and snarling like a Kneazle. He confronted her on every issue and tore her plans into shreds with his smooth, aristocratic drawl. Hermione hadn’t had anyone challenge her like this in years. She might have enjoyed it if Malfoy wasn’t so goddamn smug all of the time.


It didn’t help that he was always around. He seemed to sense when she was in the compound and seek her out. Hermione would be teaching the students, and his bright head would appear jogging out of the woods. Or she would be training with Tonks, and Draco would appear in the Dojo. Once he had walked in on her in the shower.


Hermione snorted as she thought of his phony apology after she screamed at him for that particular incident, ‘Didn’t know she was there.’ Creative excuse, Malfoy.


She regretted her offer to let Malfoy live in her little house. She never realized how much she depended on having a little place that she could call her own. In each camp that the Rebels had over the years, she had a place where she could go to be herself, to be alone.


To be weak.


As Hermione took off her sweaty training clothes in her tiny bedroom, she pondered quietly. She hadn’t had time to unwind in a few months. Actually, she couldn’t remember a time since Draco had joined their little band that she had taken any real time for herself.


That’s it, Hermione thought, All I need to do is recharge. Then I’ll be able to handle Malfoy and all of his infantile behavior with perfect calmness. That’ll teach him.


Hermione quickly pulled on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and her favorite worn-in jumper. Slipping on her trainers, she tiptoed to her bedroom door. Silently, she opened it and peeked around the corner to peer in the living room.


Draco was nowhere to be seen.


Cocking her head slightly, she listened for any sign of activity in the kitchen. When Hermione heard nothing but the soft murmur of the wind outside the house, she sprung into action. She had to leave before he could come back to the house from wherever he was and ruin her peace.


In her rush to get out the door, she paused for a moment to look at the orb. It flashed plaintively, and the ever-present song in her head was hopeful.


“Oh, all right. I’ll take you with me. But you had better behave yourself.”


Soon, Hermione was enjoying the autumn scenery while picking her way through the woods to the hot spring. As her feet crushed the brittle bed of leaves under her feet, the smell of warm fall afternoons filled her nostrils triggering memories of playing in leaf-piles with her parents.


Closing her eyes at the bittersweet rush the memory brought to her chest, Hermione slowly breathed out the soft scent, trying to block it from her brain. Don’t think about it Hermione. Just don’t think about it. It won’t hurt if you don’t think about it.


Suddenly Hermione felt a wave of warm feelings wash through her, drowning her pain. She glanced at the orb thankfully, and it pulsed softly in sympathy. Hermione smiled slightly and said softly, “Thanks. I needed that.”


Hermione continued walking at a brisk pace, eager to plunge into the scalding waters of the spring and purge all of her sorrow. The hot waters of the spring seemed like the only thing that gave her pleasure anymore. Dancing used to give her that same feeling, but Voldemort had tainted that too- now she danced for the scum that served him.


You could have unimaginable ecstasy, whispered a small voice in her mind, all you need to do is give into the promises in Draco’s eyes. Become one with him and forget all of your pain…


Hermione stopped and shook her head sharply, as if she could rid herself of her traitorous thoughts. She glared at the orb, “I will not abandon my responsibilities for a fuck with some man who doesn’t even care about me. And even if he did, I can’t leave these people. They need me. More than he ever will.”


But more than you need him?


Ghosts of thought chased each other through her brain, teasing her with possibilities. Children with bright silver eyes, a house that she felt safe in, a husband to share her passion and heartache… A real family of my own.


But Hermione knew that it was an unrealistic dream. She had given up all hope for a normal life the day Harry and Ron died. Something in her had been broken. Now, all she was useful for was a tool of revenge, and that suited her just fine.


The orb throbbed in Hermione’s hand, as if it didn’t like the direction of her thoughts. She rolled it gently between her hands to soothe it, enjoying its warm, smooth texture. Quietly she walked along the familiar path until she came to the steaming spring.


It was a very cool afternoon, so crisp that the hot vapor from the spring hung like a dense cloud. Sighing as the heat hit her numb face, Hermione set down the orb gently and quickly started to rip off her clothing in her eagerness to immerse herself.


Splash!


Hermione froze.


I’m not alone.


Her hand crept steadily towards her wand as her eyes strained to see the intruder through the heavy mist. Just as she grasped it, a slight breeze gently stirred the mist enough for her to see the mystery bather.


It was Draco Malfoy.


Naked.


He had just surfaced from the water, eyes closed, and his expression blissful. His sleek hair clung to his chiseled cheekbones and jaw line. The fog swirled, lifted, and caressed his long, lean body. Draco’s moon-pale skin was flushed from the hot water, and the pinkness gave his muscles a healthy, vigorous look that they did not have when he was sick.


I wonder if he becomes flushed like that when he gets aroused.


Hermione shook her head slightly to rid herself of those traitorous thoughts. She had seen him naked when she tended to him when he was ill. She had looked her fill and hadn’t been aroused at all. This was the exact same thing.


So why couldn’t she tear her eyes away?


Reassuring herself that his eyes were still closed with a quick glance, Hermione decided to go back to the camp. One more look.


Almost unwillingly, her eyes were drawn downwards. His chest had filled out from his training, and his firm pectorals glistened and rippled as he ran his hands through his hair, pulling it off his face. His abdomen was particularly fine, with grooves and hollows that her tongue ached to trace.


Peering through her lashes, she looked father south, and assessed his most private parts. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a penis before. Indeed, she had even inspected Draco’s when he was sick, purely out of curiosity. She had never been particularly impressed by one, and thought they looked strange. Yet somehow, at this moment with the mist stirring restlessly around them, she felt a shaft of desire pierce through her womb as she stared at it.


What would it feel like inside her? Would she be as cold as the men in the camp thought she was? Or would she melt into waves of bliss as Draco rode her? Part of her wanted to strip off her clothes and find out; the other, bigger, part was terrified at the strength of the desire riding her body.


As she stared hungrily, she noted a change. His cock began to expand and thicken. Fascinated, Hermione breathlessly watched as it grew. Merlin, it almost doubled in size…


“So are you going to stop staring and join me?”


Dark eyes flew up to meet intense silver ones.


Oh shit.


000

A/N: Sorry this is so late, but I can only plead personal issues, of both the good and bad kind :P 1) got engaged, 2) My Grandfather died, 3) had horrific muscle spasms. Many, many thanks to my lovely betas Emily and Lorett, they are absolutely amazing! (You should see my stuff before they get ahold of it) Anyway, I love you all for your amazing reviews. I am glad you like the story. Am too tired to do proper review responses today, but will do them for the next chapter. Love you!