Vengeance

Vengeance
Chapter Twelve


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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this story. All Harry Potter copyrights belong to J.K. Rowling.


000


We trifle when we assign limits to our desires, since nature hath set none.


-Christian Nevell Bovee


000


Blood, so dark it was almost black, ran down Theodore Nott’s back as the knife bit into his flesh. Slowly, slowly, an unnamed Death Eater carved a grinning skull into his skin before the throne of Voldemort.


Voldemort watched, mildly interested, as Nott screamed after a particularly vicious stroke. The new recruit took his time, the Dark King noted, and was quite artistic in his technique. Even without magic, the Dark Mark was forming nicely. He would have to get the boy’s name afterwards and give him special training. One could always use a child with a particular aptitude for sadism.


The young man had completed the skull and was making short work of the twisting snake that would complete the Dark Mark. Nott bawled in agony as the man made deep, sinuous slices depicting the snake, letting a fresh spurt of coppery, red blood with each measured stroke.


When the mark was finished, the slender man bowed deeply at the foot of the dais. Voldemort nodded approvingly and rose, his elegant black robes swirling around his gaunt frame.


“You have done well,” he hissed, dismissing the young Death Eater with the flick of his wrist.


“As for you, young Nott, I am afraid you have not met with my approval. Do you know what your failure is, scum?”


Nott gave no sign of recognition, except for a low gurgle.


“I thought not.” Voldemort elegantly flipped his wrist, and his long, dark wand appeared in his hand. Swishing it briefly in a complex movement, it glowed a sickly yellow. The wan radiance gave the King’s reptilian skin an unnatural pallor in the dank lighting of the Great Hall.


“You exposed a traitor, an accomplishment for which I will spare your life. However, as he was here, bleeding, dying, naked to my sight, he disappeared.”


Snarling, he bared pointy, alien teeth at the assembled Death Eaters, and instinctively those who were looking at that terrible expression took a step backwards. Nervously, the crowd was reminded how dangerous this shell of a human, this hideous monster, the very one with whom they’d pledged their lives to was.


“Not one of you,” Voldemort continued harshly, “Not one saw the perpetrators of either the explosions in the North Tower or those who took my helpless prisoner. Not one of you useless imbeciles has any explanation besides ‘the Rebels did it.’”


He stepped closer to the trembling Nott and bent to his wounds. Running a long, sharp fingernail across the open gashes, he smiled as Nott flinched and moaned.


He brought his finger to his lipless mouth and his long, red tongue darted out to catch a droplet of deep scarlet blood. In his other hand, the sickly yellow glow emanating from his wand intensified.


“Nott failed me, but so did you, my idiotic subjects. Remember my mercy, my kingly benevolence in his punishment.”


As he spoke, he lowered his wand to the bloody mess on Nott’s back. Immediately, the yellow light lept to the wound, infecting it. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as Nott shrieked.


“Remember to whom you belong.”

000


Oh shit.


Hermione stood preternaturally still as she gazed, horrified, into Draco’s amused silver eyes.


Gods. He saw me ogling him like he was a Playwitch centerfold, Hermione’s formidable mind stumbled frantically, trying to figure her way out of this predicament. Oh Gods. This can’t get any worse. But he looks so…


Draco’s deep, knowing chuckle rang out over the clearing, causing Hermione to flush a deep crimson from the roots of her hair to her pinky toes. When he smirked mockingly, Hermione snapped out of her horrified embarrassment.


Averting her eyes carefully, she quickly took note of her nearly naked state, and cringed internally.


She needed to get out of here.


Quickly.


Preferably with some of her dignity still intact.


Jerkily pulling on her trousers, she cursed herself for being so stupid. Why, oh why, did she stare like a ninny at Malfoy of all people? And how could she forget that she was nearly naked? Naked!


Fervently hoping that Malfoy wasn’t a Legilimens, she avoided all eye contact with the slimy snake. She closed her eyes and tried to banish the disgusting image of Malfoy’s naked body from her brain. In with the good, out with the bad, right? Easy.


Hermione took a deep breath, imagined a beautiful, calming sunset, and then waited for the awful picture to leave.


… Long, sinewy muscles gleamed with water as he surfaced from the steamy waters of the pool, his pectorals and biceps flexing as he brushed water from his eyes…


Damn it, it wasn’t working!


“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.”


Hermione gritted her teeth at Malfoy’s smug voice, trying not to imagine his naked, highly aroused body so very close to her own. “Yes I can. You are exceedingly ignorable.”


“Come now,” Draco’s deep voice intoned, “I am unforgettable.”


Hermione snorted in response as she pulled on her trainers.


When Draco spoke again, his voice was closer, huskier, “I remember quite vividly. Don’t you remember dancing for me by the firelight? I do. I remember you stripping off your Hogwarts uniform slowly, so slowly, driving me to the brink of insanity with every inch of creamy skin revealed. I wanted to tear off your silly little knickers and mindlessly shove my cock into you until you couldn’t breathe.”


Hermione’s eyes flew to his, her breathing ragged, her pupils dilated, and her body strangely heavy.


Draco’s eyes were focused on her face, singularly intense. As he spoke, he moved closer, mesmerizing her like a predator preparing to strike. Softly, intently, he said, “Do you remember our meeting after your naughty, naughty Polynesian dance? I was so hard that I could barely control myself. Feeling the weight of your beautiful breasts in my hands, stroking your soft skin, I could barely breathe, let alone think.”


“I remember, Hermione,” Draco throatily murmured, “I think about it late at night. In my fantasies, I am surrounded by the scent of jasmine and sex, with you moaning, writhing beneath me as we come together, again and again, our violent need for each other overwhelming our sanity.” Draco paused for a moment, and shuddered at the hidden, dark thought, “As I lay in that cold, hard bed all I think about is how desperately I want you, and the thought of you only a thin wall away is driving me mad.”


Hermione’s mouth went dry as her active imagination supplied image after image of their naked, sweaty bodies entwined. Letting herself give into the attraction between them would be mind-numbing, passionate- and ultimately brief. Hermione’s aching body battled with her mind and her overwhelming emotions.


Desire. Reason. Passion. Fear.


As it always did, cool logic triumphed.


But not without regret.


Hermione turned away decisively- back stiff, head bowed- to make the trek back to camp alone.


“Hermione!”


Hermione turned around slowly, and looked at Draco with resolute eyes, not even glancing at his gleaming body. No matter how much her heart secretly wanted to.


“What do you want?”


Draco stood silent for a moment and looked her up and down, calculating silently.


“Well?”


“Well, Granger that was certainly easier than I expected.”


Hermione cocked her head slightly, “What do you mean?”


“If all I had to do to get you to leave me alone was to talk dirty to you, I would have tried it ages ago.” Draco gave her an infuriating smirk as he submerged himself to his shoulders in the steaming water. “Now I have the pool all to myself.”


A part of her knew what he was doing- it was an insultingly obvious jab- but another part, the reckless, courageous Gryffindor part, didn’t care.


“Are you saying I am easily manipulated?”


“No. I’m saying that you are a prude and a coward.” Draco shook his head in mock surprise, his eyes glittering. “Such a pity.”


Hermione glared at his blatant challenge.


Draco’s only response was a wicked smile.


It was the breath of wind that toppled the precarious tower of her self-control. Eyes narrowing dangerously, Hermione stormed to the edge of the pool, a razor-thin hold on her self-control.


“Who are you to call me a coward, Draco Malfoy?” Hermione hissed, “I am not a gutless, pale imitation of a human being like you!”


Draco just continued smiling calmly and said simply, “Prove it.”


“What?”


“Don’t just stand there gaping like a fish. You know what you have to do. Get in- I’ll even turn around to protect your prudish modesty.”


Hermione stood still for a moment, considering. Then, recklessly, she plopped down on the ground and began to tug at her trainers.


To her relief, Draco turned around promptly, showing her his pale, perfectly sculpted backside.


Preoccupied by staring at the smooth, sleek muscles, Hermione missed Draco’s cocky smile of triumph.


Draco stood very, very still listening eagerly to the rustle of Hermione’s clothing as she stripped deliciously, gloriously naked. His air of feigned nonchalance was beginning to wear thin. But it was infinitely more fun this way. The chase certainly made the prize substantially more valuable.


He heard a small splash, and then heard Hermione’s voice, “All right. You may turn around.”


Draco noted two things as he turned.


First, Hermione was wearing a towel covering all of her fun bits.


Secondly, she had her wand trained at him.


Draco felt his lips tug into a reluctant grin. She certainly wasn’t making this easy for him.


That was all right though.


He always did like a challenge.


“My, my, Granger. I didn’t realize you were so overwhelmed by my manly attributes.”


“Hardly,” Hermione snorted, “This is to keep you in your place in case you get impertinent.”


“Ah. I see.”


Draco stretched his long body onto one of the smooth rock shelves and watched Hermione through his eyelashes as he pretended to doze.


She had put her mass of wild hair into a knot at the top of her head in an attempt to control it. However, a few rebellious strands escaped to frame her strong jaw, and to line her graceful neck. He could just see the tops of her breasts peeking out from the top of the pink towel. Even through the thick steam he could see her fidget on her ledge and toy with her wand.


She was nervous.


Perfect.


“So Granger, don’t you think it is about time I know what we are acquiring from my house?”


Hermione looked up at him, startled for a moment, and then she gathered her wits.


“Erhm… I suppose so. It’s rather a long story, you see, so I’ll pare it down a bit. Long ago, the ancient Athenians practiced what we know at the ‘Eleusinian Mysteries…’”


Draco shifted a little to give her a better view of his wet, gleaming pectorals.


Hermione promptly lost her train of thought as her mouth went dry.


Draco gently prodded her as she stayed silent, “The Eleusinian Mysteries?”


“Ah yes,” Hermione turned away from him and felt her cheeks grow hot, “They were held to honor the Goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld. As a fertility Goddess, Demeter was much revered and the rites gave her cult the chance to ensure the good harvest.”


“What was not as well known however was that the festival was also intimately connected to magic and the Wizarding population. The goddess Demeter has worn many names, but as an earth Goddess, her likeness has always been associated with the tides of magic that wax and wane throughout the earth.


“In an ancient account, it was said the Greek Wizards and Witches would use this ceremony to summon a great magic, a primordial, raw, power.”


Draco had been silent throughout her speech, filing it away for future contemplation. Thoughtfully, he asked, “So what does the object at Malfoy Manor have to do with any of this?”


Hermione’s dark eyes shuttered for a moment, and then she said, “Do you know of a staff in your collections? It is about one and a half meters long, white, with intricate carvings of leaves down its length. It also has a snake ornament at the tip, of what metal I cannot say, but I would guess it would be made of gold.”


Draco didn’t even have to think about it. “I saw that staff every day until I went to Hogwarts. It’s in the study as a prized piece in the Malfoy collection.”


Hermione gave a little sigh of relief. “Well, at least that’s taken care of. We don’t have to waste time digging through your attics.”


“Good luck with that. There are rooms up there that I haven’t even been in yet.”


They descended into uncomfortable silence, each too aware of the other sitting only a few meters away. The water, rippling from her body to his and vice versa, seemed to connect them more intimately than if they had been touching skin to skin.


“So these Greek Wizards, did they have any contact with Muggles?”


Draco sat back and waited for the resulting explosion.


Three… Two… One…


“Honestly Malfoy, didn’t you pay attention at all in History of Magic?”


“If I remember correctly, and I always do, Professor Binns wasn’t the most riveting lecturer.”


Hermione snorted indelicately, “Fine. That will make explanations more difficult, but I shall endeavor to make your pitiful mind understand the basics.”


“Please do.” Draco drawled sarcastically, “I eagerly wait for your wisdom, oh great Know-It-All.”


Hermione splashed him in retaliation for his impertinence, causing him to sputter and shake his head. Sunlight caught his blond, wet hair and it gleamed beautifully. Fascinated, Hermione watched it as he moved. So pretty… Why does such a prat get blessed with such extraordinary hair?


Nothing relaxed Hermione more than giving a good lecture. She knew this, and as she really warmed up to her topic, explaining the different theories and philosophies of the Greek Wizards and Muggles, her body surrounded by hot water, she relaxed completely, lowering her wand.


Unfortunately for her, Draco knew her weakness.


Although he had been intent on the information that Hermione nervously imparted, he had a greater, larger goal in mind when he asked about the Object.


Her seduction.


As she spoke, Hermione kept her eyes trained on the water, the trees, the slate-grey sky, anything but Draco.


And that was her mistake.


Taking your eyes off a predator was never a good idea, Draco thought to himself with a knowing smile.


Draco closed in on his prey. Creeping closer and closer letting the thick steam shield him, he moved slowly, silently slipping through the water, he moved silently so as not to disturb it, riveted by Hermione’s pouting lips so passionately speaking about topics he could care less of at the moment.


What he really wanted was that beautiful mouth fixated passionately on him. Certain areas of his anatomy to be precise.


Slowly, slowly…


Suddenly, the thick mist that had been obscuring him blew away with a sudden gust of wind.


Startled at his large form suddenly looming over her, Hermione’s voice stumbled and stuttered, and as he stood before her, she fell silent.


He moved closer.


She stood still and watched it happen.


He cupped the back of her head with one of his hands, securing his fingers firmly in her soft hair.


Her wand dropped to the grassy bank.


His lips closed over hers.


She let him.


His lips burned, with their light touch, sending Hermione’s already taught nerves into over stimulation. Her world narrowed until it was only Draco. His mouth, his hands, his body, his passion.


Tightly controlling the kiss, he nipped, sucked and gently moved his lips over hers, but Hermione was having none of it. She didn’t want tame, she didn’t want more control. She was sick of it, sick of the pain, sick of the constant agony of crushing her feelings.


I want to feel again…


She placed her hands on his back, stroking those muscles that had fascinated her for so long. She traced from his shoulders to his firm, warm buttocks. When Draco shuddered in response, a jolt of feral triumph shocked through her body, sending hot currents to her core.


She squeezed.


He groaned.


And then, as if some mental tether had snapped, Draco stopped coaxing and started demanding. Growling, mercury eyes gleaming, all pretenses at gentleness disappeared. Hooking his arms around her slender frame, he carried her to the wall of the pool, cornering her against his large body.


Overwhelmed by the feel of him, hard and hot and just so big, Hermione arched her torso away from him, only to find that she was trapped. Her eyes flew to his, panicked. Hooded silver orbs stared at her, hungrily.


Then, he began to touch her, and she couldn’t think anymore.


Voraciously, Draco sucked on her neck as he ripped off the little pink towel, baring Hermione to his gaze. Her pert breasts were flushed, her nipples were erect and rosy with arousal. He let his eyes travel down her taut stomach to her smoothly flared hips. His steel eyes lingered on her sex for a long moment, relishing what was to come.


Mine, He thought triumphantly.


Staring intently into her dark, glazed eyes, he let his body lean onto hers, and the feeling of her softness on his cock was almost too much to bear. To distract himself, he turned his attention to her breasts. Smoothly rolling her already erect nipples through his fingers, he ignored Hermione’s sharp gasp.

Leisurely kissing down her damp skin, he licked the droplets of spring water from the tops of her breasts, slowly sliding his tongue to catch the drops that spilled over. As he grew closer and closer to her nipples, he felt Hermione’s breathing grow more and more erratic.


Grinning slightly, Draco took his fingers from her nipple and replaced them with his mouth.


The reaction was instantaneous. Hermione went from a blossoming flower to a firebrand, tugging, demanding, and caressing every inch of skin that she could get a hold of. She touched him desperately, as if she thought he would disappear, as if she were trying to absorb his essence through her skin.


It seemed that their time consisted of brief moments like this- stolen, furtive. For once, Draco thought, I would like to take my time with her…


As Draco continued to feast on her breasts, Hermione felt his fingers drift down to her naked hips, lingering at the junction of her thighs. He smoothly tangled his fingers in her curls, over and over, causing rushes of scarlet desire to pour through Hermione’s desperate body.


Suddenly, he thrust his fingers forcefully into her tight, wet passage.


Hermione gasped in pain, reality suddenly slamming into her with full force. She couldn’t do this. Not with him, not with anyone… She couldn’t let anyone get too close.


Clumsily, still half drunk with desire, she pushed Draco’s hard, surprised form away from her body and leapt from the spring. She quickly gathered her clothing and her wand and fled without a glance back at the confused man she left behind.


As the haze of passion slowly melted away, Draco wondered what the hell had just happened.


000


Draco was in the Dojo a week later, trying to cleanse his brain of Hermione.


Her presence was everywhere it seemed. Her gentle scent, a mix of flowers and woman, permeated the house. It was strongest when he woke, after fevered dreams about the flesh he glimpsed at the hot springs, about the desperate, kisses she gave him after he finally coaxed her into succumbing to her desires. He was so close to gaining what he desired…


What I want is vengeance, Draco thought a little desperately, as he deftly twirled his quarter-staff, Granger is just a pleasant distraction.


But he wanted her with an intensity the frightened him. And he was sure it frightened her too, which was why he let her back away at the spring. They had been poised on the edge, a precipice of something big, something…


And he wasn’t ready to fall. He told himself that it was a strategic move, a regrouping, but he knew the truth.


Draco Malfoy was a coward to the core.


And if by being a coward, it whet Granger’s sensual appetite, well, that was a bonus.


As Draco gracefully went through his proscribed kata, he again tried to clear his mind. He had thought about her enough. He didn’t want this… thing… that they had to deepen into some sort of obsession or anything.


It’s more than that, his mind whispered.


He tried to think about the facts Granger had rapidly and nervously uttered at the spring. She had been caught off guard, more vulnerable than he had seen her since Hogwarts.


While it would have been very Slytherin of him to take advantage of that fact, he had been too distracted by her naked body to manipulate her into telling him what she knew.


Another first added to an increasingly long and uncomfortable list, Draco thought glumly.


He felt the sweat start to trickle down his naked shoulder blades, and reveled in his growing exhaustion. It meant fewer dreams, fewer nightmares.


Hermione had explained the Eleusinian Mysteries and their connection to the Goddess Demeter, and the outline of the basic ceremony in her bossy, know-it –all voice. She had been sufficiently flustered and exposed for him to tell that it had been the truth.


Yet there had been no mention of the orb, or how the staff was connected to the Eleusinian Mysteries.


And, more importantly, there was no mention of the wish.


Draco absently completed a complicated series of loops around his body with the staff as he pondered the essential question: Was Granger still hiding something from him, or was she unaware of the significance of the orb?


The second-hand account written, presumably, from older documents had been stolen from the Hogwarts library. Draco assumed Granger had it, but he didn’t know its contents. That was the key to his power in his precarious situation- knowledge.


Voldemort’s vision had shown him that the orb granted a wish. But how did he know that and not Hermione? He wouldn’t unless he had access to the primary documents…


Draco staggered a bit at this line of thought, nearly wacking himself in the head with his staff.


What if Hermione didn’t know about the wish?


He would have a powerful bargaining tool with her, and with the Rebellion. And if the Rebellion succeeded…


Well. He had to plan for the future, didn’t he?


000


A/N: I am so sorry for the long, long break between chapters. I really don’t have that much of an excuse except for depression and a really, really bad writers block. But I’m back baby! Thank you to my beta Lorett with the great response time to this chapter- I’ll repost when my other beta gets back to me with her corrections. And, as always, thank you my readers! You are amazing!