Obscurity

Draco poured warm oil onto her shoulders making her sigh in pleasure as the scent of cinnamon was added to the already pleasant smell of vanilla in the air. His strong hands swept the oil up and down her back with smooth motions and then his long fingers began to work it into her saturated skin. Her damp hair was piled up on her head and her bare body was stretched out across black satin sheets. He was equally naked and straddled her thighs. He didn’t seem to care about the oil dripping all over his sinfully expensive bedding, and at this point she didn’t care either. He started at her shoulders working out the kinks and knots with skilled motions. Applying just enough pressure to be relaxing without hurting her. He’d done this before, but she was too relaxed to put much effort into the small flame of jealousy that tended to rise up when she thought about who he may have practiced on before her.

Just enjoy it.

Lord the man knew how to use his hands. He moved his way down her back, kneading and rolling her flesh, using his thumbs to apply pressure just where she needed it, his other fingers to soothe and relax her. As he grazed the sides of her breasts with his long fingers her body tightened, but to arouse her was apparently not his intention and his hands moved on.

She shuddered underneath his touch and closed her eyes to drown out the sight of her surroundings, ignore the blatant recklessness of the situation. Disregard the complete and total lack of respect for rules, regulations, or moral guidelines. She closed her eyes and bought herself a few minuets of blessed stupidity where she didn’t think about how easily she had ended up here, how simple it had been to ignore the little voice in her head telling her to be cautious. Forget for just a little while how much power this reckless boy had over her. Later, in the privacy of her own bed, she would berate herself; call herself nine kinds of stupid. But calling herself names wouldn’t change anything. What was done was done and putting off the end was just a small sin.
In the snakes den itself, closeted away with Draco on his large four-poster, protected only by the hangings around his bed and a flimsy-silencing spell. It felt deliciously naughty. Any moment now they could be caught. Malfoy seemed unconcerned about anyone opening the curtains, but Hermione felt more secure with her eyes shut. She knew it was silly and childish, but the darkness behind her eyes soothed her all the same. Besides, he sure knew how to pamper a girl for no reason.

“I want to wash your hair,” he’d whispered in her ear as they lay entwined beneath their tree, as she’d come to think of it. No one ever came here, but lying with him so intimately in the open like that always made her a bit uncomfortable. But he never seemed to bat an eye about it so she rose to the challenge and pretended that she didn’t have her eyes peeled, that she wasn’t listening for footsteps. She thought he must know, the way she jumped at small noises, but he never said anything.

Which was how she had found herself squirreled away deep under the castle. She’d never had anyone wash her hair before. It had been a surprisingly sensual experience. Her body bare and naked before him, lit only by candlelight. It was supposed to be romantic lighting but she hated the way it emphasized her hollows and dips. Her eyes closed as he had massaged her scalp. Expensive vanilla scented rinses massaged in, that she suspected he had bought for the occasion, as he never smelled of vanilla. His hands wet and warm on her skin, followed by his lips and hot kisses trailing down her neck to her shoulder.

He’d carefully brushed the tangles from her hair, combing his fingers through it before pushing her down onto his nice warmed sheets. Following her down with his drugging touches and insistent kisses that demanded everything she had. Touching him back she’d lost track of where she was and didn’t think once of how much noise she was making or how the bed must shake. Afterward limp and sated she’d tried to get dressed; she must’ve been gone forever already.

“They wouldn’t look for you here.”

“My friends will worry if I’m gone too long.”

“To hell with Potter, I’ve waited too damn long to get you in my bed to let you go that easy.” He’d reached for the vial of cinnamon oil. And she’d found herself on the receiving end of the most blissful relaxing massage she’d ever been treated to. The only massage she’d ever been treated to unless you counted the comforting circles her mother would rub when she wasn’t feeling well. This hardly compared. For starters her mother would not be bolding caressing her buttocks. Sliding his long fingers around the flesh, up over her hips and back down to her thighs. She might very well be in love with Malfoy’s hands. Was that such a great sin? Surely, from a Gryffindor perspective it would be low on the list of outrageous offenses. To hell with his hands, the man himself at the top of said list, closely followed by a hodgepodge of illicit acts that would horrify her friends.
Not that horrifying her friends bothered her all that much. It wasn’t hard. Poor Victor had horrified them. The desire to keep a lid on her current romance went deeper then that. Hermione had had a few muggle boyfriends. Mostly set up by her well meaning girlfriends who really felt that she needed one. At Hogwarts there was really no one to push her in that direction and she had never really had any desire to pursue a boy…so her experience was limited. These feelings of Euphoria and Desire and Confusion were new to her. New and raw and untested. There was no book to help her, no teacher to question…other than Draco that was. And she could hardly ask him to sit down with her and hash out her boiling emotions.

She just wasn’t ready to share it with anyone yet. It was just between her and Draco. Something warm and special and intimate. She didn’t feel ready to field questions yet, she didn’t have the answers. And there would be questions. She would have to justify herself and explain this whole thing. She didn’t really understand it herself. And she could hardly tell her friends that she trusted Draco Malfoy bone deep because of a feeling. Or that his touch made her feel alive and sexy and vibrant. Or that he listened to her in a way that no one ever had. Not simply to pacify her so she would shut up. He cared what she thought about. Maybe didn’t agree with her, argued with her often, but he cared.

Also she and Draco had never once talked about it. He certainly had never mention anything about telling other people. She had no idea how he would feel about the world knowing he was regularly sleeping with a muggle born. Actually, the sleeping with her would probably be excused; he could laugh it off as an adventure. But she just didn’t think she could bear being played down as his latest expedition. That she would be able to stand it while he treated her differently in front of his friends. This last year he had paid her as little public attention as he ever had. His war was with Harry and she had always been on the edge of that, only spoken to when she interfered. As though she was below his notice.

As much as that hurt, she wasn’t ready for him to be ashamed of her.

If one could ever be ready for such a thing.

So she indulged in her naughty secret. Snatched moments from thin air and made time for him. Put the rest of her world on hold and lost herself in his touch. Took her guilty pleasure and spent the rest of her time blushing about it. It was an unsettling existence, but definitely preferable to her other options. Behind door number one: Face the world. Behind door number Two: Give him up. She’d just as soon stay in the closet thank you very much. It was warm and dark and nice in there. Just for a little while longer.

Besides, she just didn’t have time for a big dramatic scene and the inevitable damage it would cause. She had school and prefect duties. She was taking all advanced classes, which ate up a very large chunk of her time. She had private wandless magic lessons with Draco, the boys to tutor, and her newsletter. Her newsletter was by far the most overwhelming part of her day. What had just started out as a simple informative piece had spiraled rapidly out of control.

She had begun distributing it at the school, but Hogwarts was already pretty enlightened. The Prophet would not be interested, of course, but the Enquirer had only been too happy to run her little newsletter on page 13. She wasn’t exactly sure what happened, things had moved too rapidly for her to grasp. But pretty soon she was getting owls by the truckload. The Enquirer’s distribution had tripled and she had been moved to the front page.
The boys were not happy. Especially Harry and Draco…who would be horrified to know they agreed so passionately about something. Most of her owls were not happy friendly good for you letters. She got howlers and curses and outright threats. Her mail was now received by the staff and checked for hexes before she was allowed to touch it. She had been implored by staff and student alike to let go of this silly “nonsense” before someone got hurt…mainly her.

But it wasn’t silly. The fact that there was such outrage showed how important it was. These people who were sending her this awful mail believed Voldemorts’ propaganda. He was powerful and popular because of that belief. If no one was countering what he was saying then they were giving Voldemort all the power. “To let evil triumph, the righteous must only stand there and do nothing.” Her research that summer had shown her the truth of that, it was spelled out in history over and over again. People were uniformed and it led to uniformed choices.
She wasn’t stopping with this newsletter. She wasn’t stopping period. The word was getting out there, but that was only the first step. The next was getting people to take a stand. A handful of Order members weren’t enough. Everyone should be getting involved. Until they were too powerful a force to stop. She was thinking about sending out a pledge form. Starting a society. Small groups maybe, with team leaders.

“Stop thinking about it.” Malfoy drawled, leaving in and kissing her neck unexpectedly. “You’re getting all tense again and undoing all my work.”

“I should be getting back.”

“Why, do you have to go over that Twit Weasley’s homework? Stay with me.” His voice suddenly had an edge to it that she didn’t like. The sharp sting of command. He expected to be obeyed, but she wasn’t one of his minions. She was his lover. And she could almost think that in her head now without blushing.
“No, I have to work on my newsletter.”

This announcement had the expected, if undesired effect on him. His hands dropped to his sides and he rolled off of her onto the bed. The cooler air on the back of her thighs was as cold as the space between them now. Undaunted, she peeled herself up from the sheets onto her elbows.

“Hermione,” He began, her name a weapon he was using against her. Creating an intimacy so that she would be more receptive to what he had to say. Sometimes she wondered if she would still be in Gryffindor if she was sorted today. All the intrigue and plotting had changed her on an elemental level. Malfoy thought he was clever in his manipulation, and she let him believe that to give him a false sense of security. She was just as bad as he was. “You are not being careful. This newsletter is not some game. Serious people are sitting up and taking notice, and these people are not going to just let this go.”

She’d heard this all before. He didn’t understand, she wasn’t as naïve as he thought she was. She understood that Voldemort supporters were not to be trifled with, that some of these people were killers. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t backing down. She would not let fear dictate her choices and her life. She would make a difference. She’d said all of that before too. This argument was old. She reached for her jeans in clear dismissal but he pressed on. Really, Malfoy never knew when to quit.

“What precautions are you taking for your safety?” She paused, looked at him. He knew that her mail was being scanned.

“Hogwarts is the safest place I could be Malfoy, you know that. And my summers are usually spent with…people who are safe.” She’d almost slipped. Said that she spent her summers with the Order. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him…she did. It just wasn’t her secret to tell.

“The Order of the Phoenix. I know.” She opened her mouth to question him. Find out how he knew, what he knew. The things he knew were often terribly surprising. Sometimes it was terrifying to learn the amount of information they had. “But what about winter break? You keep saying you are going to visit your mum. Hermione, there is very little security there; they must know you are coming. I don’t want you to go.”

She might have argued his highhandedness. Rebelled against him telling her what to do, railed that she could handle herself. But the very real fear in his eyes when he looked at her in the candlelight stayed her tongue. He showed his emotions so rarely to let her see naked fear like that touched her deeply and she reached out and put her arms around him. Comfortable enough now with her right to lay her hands on his body.
“My parents are with the order. Harry will be with us. We will have Auror security to and from the headquarters. Please don’t worry about me. I’m not stupid.”

“I know that.” He took a deep breath. “You are a confirmed target. A price has been put on your head. Dead or alive, they don’t care.” He hugged her back with a fierceness that crushed her. “I can’t be with you all the time. You make it impossible to protect you. Why do you have to be so stubborn Damn it!”
His furious tone did not anger her the way it might have earlier. Instead his concern for her warmed her clear through to her insides and she hugged him back just as hard. The words “I love you” echoing unspoken inside her head.