Adamo Fidelitas

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and characters are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros., and Scholastic Books. This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this.

Adamo Fidelitas 14

Students all around the school seemed to be in an excellent mood, as classes ended and they began their holiday. The following days filled with exploding snap and wizard chess flew by, and Hermione although feeling some discomfort from the potion was not in major distress again yet. She was glad that there were no classes to exacerbate the problem either. Malfoy was starting to look tired and irritable, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he was waiting until the night of the Friendship Ball, rather than trying to sneak around with a school full of students who had no classes to distract them from unusual comings and goings between himself the the Muggle-born Head Girl.

Hermione awoke to the sounds of Parvati and Lavendar gasping and giggling on Christmas morning, and it wasn’t until Parvati exclaimed, “Hermione, did Ron and Harry rob Gringott’s or something?” That she realized that they had been discussing the pile of presents at the end of Hermione’s bed.

Hermione sat up blearily, rubbing her eyes and preparing to tell them off so that she could go back to sleep. She froze with the back of her finger still pressed against her left eyelid and her mouth hanging open as she spotted the unusually large Christmas haul waiting at the end of her bed. Forgetting her annoyance at her roommates, Hermione crawled towards the bottom of her bed and began digging into the nest of presents. There was a nice winter muffler from Harry, and a book entitled “Quidditch for Idiots” from Ron, and some lovely earrings from Ginny, and the usual presents from her parents and the Weasleys. There was also the figurine of some strange and fantastic creature from Luna Lovegood. The present that had obviously caught Parvati and Lavendar’s attention bore no card, nor did it need one.

Among Hermione’s other presents, sat a carved wood box with touches of gold leaf to highlight the carved fleur-de-lis design on the dark wood. The box was clearly an antique, and even more clearly too expensive to have come from Harry or Ron. It felt extraordinarily heavy when Hermione tried to pick it up, and she could hear something shifting inside of it. Curiously, Hermione attempted a few unlocking spells until the clasp sprang free. She raised the lid as though in a dream, and she was barely aware of Lavendar and Parvati piling onto the bed behind her anxious for a peek of what lay inside. Hermione gasped and her eyes filled with tears, as she saw a new leather-bound copy of Hogwarts: A History sitting on the maroon velvet lining inside.

Hermione squealed in delight as she clutched the book to her chest affectionately; and Lavendar and Parvati, looking very disappointed, slunk back off to their own presents. Hermione ignored their discussion about having hoped it was something good for once. She opened the book quickly, preparing to skim it and peruse the updates to this latest edition. She was mildly surprised when a folded sheaf of parchment slipped from between the pages and landed on her lap. The unsigned note was written in the unmistakable hand of Draco Malfoy, and it simply said:

The box carries a protection spell for valuables.

Hermione felt a twinge that she hadn’t given Malfoy anything so ostentatious, but she reasoned that he was exceedingly hard to shop for anyhow. What did one get for the obnoxious prat who by his own admission had everything? In the end Hermione had settled upon a thin book of obscure hexes, which she hoped he didn’t test out upon her friends, and anortmortment of Wizarding sweets for his highly developed sweet tooth. She’d blushed for at least half an hour after putting a few Fizzing Whizbees into the order, and she knew that Malfoy would laugh at her if he knew the tremendous effort it cost her to keep her composure whenever that particular sweet was mentioned.

Hermione spent the rest of the morning thanking friends, comparing presents, and having a snowball fight with everyone in the courtyard, before traipsing back up to the tower with Ginny and Luna in tow just after lunch. She had received special permission from Professor McGonagall for them to allow Luna into the Gryffindor Tower, although they had to agree to make her wear a pair of Professor Sprout’s soundproof earmuffs on the way in to make sure their password stayed private. Hermione was pretty sure that it had been Luna’s reindeer-head hat that had finally swayed McGonagall to consent to the unusual request.

Luna gave Ginny’s dormitory her approval, as she laid a few sets of dressrobes across Ginny’s bed with a far-off smile. “Has Ronald said anything about looking forward to tonight?” she asked curiously, as she looked up at Ginny and Hermione.

The two Gryffindors looked at each other quickly. Ron had said many things about the upcoming evening, and most of them had been instructions about being nice but burning any hats that Luna might try to wear. “Well,” Ginny began deciding upon the safest approach to avoid offending Luna, “I think Ron’s really trying to make it a bit of a romantic night.” She grinned, as Luna’s snapped to attention at the words. “He keeps talking to me about all kinds of fantasy scenarios for the ball, so I was wondering if you’d be game to letting us make you up as his fantasy girl,” Ginny supplied sweetly, and Hermione had to give her credit.

Luna looked hopeful then her face fell as another thought crossed her mind. “Ronald isn’t reconsidering tonight because everyone calls me Loony, is he?” she asked sounding rather wounded.

“Of course not!” Hermione replied immediately. “Ron thinks you’re lots of fun. He asked you, remember?” Hermione prompted.

“Exactly, and he wants to show you off at the ball so that everyone can see how pretty and nice you are,” Ginny added. “I’ve got a great idea for some cool earrings that he’s really going to like, and we can enchant your dress to do something special maybe too. You’ll love it, Luna. He’s going to be the luckiest guy there, and he’s going to know it.”

Luna grinned despite herself, and began showing them the metallic blue robes on the top of her stack. There was also a set of pine green robes, which had spiky points with mock Christmas baubles at the tips to give the impression of a Christmas tree. Then there was a set made of dragon hide, that Ginny thought looked like Fred and George’s favourite suits.

They had a great deal of fun modifying their dresses and experimenting with different hair potions on Hermione’s hair as they talked about the evening to come. Ginny told them all about her and Harry’s plans to go with Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones, who had been dating for several months but were both Hufflepuffs, and how the quartet planned to switch dates during the evening. Both Ginny and Luna were extremely sympathetic to Hermione under the impression that being forced to attend with Malfoy was the worst possible thing that could happen to any girl, until Hermione told them that Pansy Parkinson had been reduced to attending with Goyle because neither of them could find a date outside of Slytherin. It was the only same house couple of the night, and Professor Snape had been very disgruntled about it. Rumor had it that Pansy had cried in the girls’ lavatory for two days after the date had been arranged.

Here ane and Ginny both cringed when Luna became adamant that someone should wear the singing angel hat that she’d made for the night, even if it wasn’t her. Hermione tried to picture the look on Draco Malfoy’s face if she showed up wearing such a thing, and she could easily imagine him forcing her to eat the hat to hide all evidence of it ever existing. Ginny finally agreed to wear it downstairs to see if Harry thought it suited her, and Hermione thought it was the bravest thing she’d ever seen anyone do for a friend.

When they headed down to the common room Harry and Ron were waiting for them. Ginny quickly used her eyes to caution Harry, upon seeing Harry’s shocked look at the corpulent singing angel perched atop Ginny’s flaming red hair and flapping a pair of fluffy wings in time to Angels We Have Heard On High. Harry had to hide behind Neville and Seamus for nearly five minutes before he could face them, and he kindly told Ginny that while it was adorable it didn’t quite match with her dress. Luna shot him a brief miffed look, until he hastily added that he’d like Ginny to wear it for him during the after ball celebration because it would match her Weasley sweater beautifully.

Ron, meanwhile, was completely ignorant of his sister’s plight. He was staring transfixed at Luna, unable to register anything else. Her blonde hair had been curled and piled atop her head with a twist that was secured by a little pearl comb. Her dressrobes swirled about her ankles. The top layer of the two-part robe was a satiny white fabric, which showed the shimmering darker silver lining beneath it through snowflake cutouts. Three-inch long Christmas tree earrings dangled from her earlobes raining tiny snowflakes that evaporated just before reaching her shoulders. Her prominent blue eyes sparkled, accented with the slightest hint of makeup, and a soft silver frost highlighted her cheekbones.

Hermione and Ginny grinned and nudged each other proudly, as Ron ogled their handiwork. Hermione gave Luna a gentle push towards Ron and he took her hand clearly in awe as he told her honestly, “You… you look really pretty Luna.” The tips of his ears turned pink, and he looked at his feet as he held her hand and led her shyly out of the tower. “Really pretty,” he said again, prompting a round of giggles from everyone.

Hermione walked slightly apart from her friends, feeling a little guilty about her own secret plans for the evening. The sweet and romantic dates that her friends were looking forward to seemed so innocent that Hermione felt deeply embarrassed by the steamy scenarios that kept filling her own daydreams about the night to come. She’d already caught herself lost in a fantasy concerning a certain Slytherin’s lips at least three times.

As they arrived in the entrance hall, Harry and Ginny found Ernie Macmillad Sud Susan Bones waiting for them and with a fleeting smile headed off to meet their “dates” for the evening. Ron and Luna were too preoccupied with each other to notice Hermione scanning the crowd of students for Malfoy’s platinum hair. She finally saw him waiting by the doors with his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed.

“What on earth are you sucking on?” Hermione asked him, as she pushed her way through the crowd and took her position beside him.

“Fizzing Whizbee,” Malfoy mumbled around the sugary confection. He smiled maliciously as he watched her blush so thoroughly that she was sure she was blushing to the tips of her toes. “Just wait till you see the hexes I learned out of the book that came with them,” he told her with a wicked gleam in his pale eyes.

“Malfoy, this is a ball to promote friendship and inter-house unity. As Head Boy you must have some idea of your obligation to set a good example,” Hermione lectured him although she suspected that he’d mostly said it to get a rise out of her.

“So did you get anything good this year, Granger?” he asked, sounding as disinterested as possible with so many other students around. “Get any three hundred percents on your end of term tests? Maybe some frilly knickers from Weasel?” Malfoy suggested as he stared at her from the corners of his eyes.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she replied.

“Weasel gave you frilly knickers?” Malfoy demanded in disgust, and Hermione laughed at the jealous expression on his pale features before she could stop herself.

“Don’t be daft,” she admonished. “I meant as a matter of fact, yes, I did get something good this year. And if you must know, it was a book--not some stupid frilly things,” Hermione supplied merrily. She felt a surge of good spirits at having managed to even the score with Malfoy for his previous teasing. He simply nodded and looked smug, secure in the knowledge that she had liked his present.

“You’re hair looks like it came from something human tonight, Granger,” he told her approvingly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Genuine compliments from Draco Malfoy in such a public setting would be an impossibility; but the way that his eyes roved hungrily over her, taking in her black fur-trimmed, midnight blue robes spoke volumes of appreciation. His gaze came to linger upon the sapphire pendant that hung from a silver chain around her neck, before using her earrings as a good excuse to travel up the exposed line of her neck and come to rest upon her face. She was wearing her hair in the same fashion as she had during their fourth year, but everything about her style tonight from the jacquard fabric to the timeless cut of the gown or modest touch of her jewellery was more sophisticated.

She thought Malfoy looked exceedingly well himself in his high-necked black and silver robes. She’d have expected no less from a proper spoiled-little-rich-boy. “Thank you, Malfoy,” she replied graciously. “You could pass for human tonight yourself,” she added.

He continued to stare unwaveringly at her with an inscrutable look plastered across his features. Unable to stand up to his intense gaze any longer, Hermione looked away self-consciously. There had been something both intimate and challenging behind that look, and it had affected her powerfully.

Everyone jumped and straightened out of their private conversations as the doors opened, and the teachers prepared to lead everyone into the Great Hall. “Mr. Malfoy, I would suggest lending the Head Girl your arm and setting a good example by the way you escort her to your seats,” came the cold, silky voice of Professor Snape, who now stood beside them. He wore black robes, as always, but Professor Sprout had pinned a small sprig of holly to his lapel to extend a hint of holiday cheer to the austere Slytherin. She stood behind him, pinning buttoners and corsages of holly to all her fellow professors.

Draco and Hermione followed the teachers, and the rest of the students trailed behind the Gryffindor and Slytherin couple. Giant Christmas trees lined the hall, and a steady rain of snow fluttered down from the ceiling. Hermione and Draco were seated at one end of the great table with the teachers, and the other students were seated at smaller round tables around the room with place cards marking their seats. Hermione caught sight of Ginny looking very disappointed to learn that Harry and Susan were across the room from her and Ernie. Hermione wondered if Ginny and Harry would have better luck once the dancing started, for surely Dumbledore hadn’t planned the entire night.

“Hmmm…” Hermione mused aloud, watching the nearest table of students pick up the puzzle box that contained their party favours fhe ehe evening. Different clues to the solution had been posted in each house common room, and students needed to use all the clues in order to get to the prizes of crackers, confetti, and noisemakers. “Which table do you think will be the first to work out their puzzle?” she asked Draco, who was smiling at the fumbling attempts coming from Theodore Nott’s table.

“Well, normally I’d say Potter’s table, but it looks like he’s been saddled with Pansy and Goyle. They’ll be short the final clue for sure,” he told her, looking quite satisfied at the thought.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “Those two are both as cognitive as a brain damaged Troll,” Hermione replied acidly. She crossed her arms over her chest and spared a glare at the back of Pansy’s head.

“You know Pansy’s dead clever when she wants to be,” Draco drawled, smirking at Hermione’s reaction to any mention of Pansy. “She knows the solution to our clue, but she intends to be less than helpful to everyone this evening. She’s got the temperament of a Doxy, and I would suggest giving her a wide berth tonight,” Draco added, over his shoulder at Hermione and meeting her glittering brown eyes as she looked back at him.

“And why is that?” Hermione snorted in obvious disdain for the other witch.

“When I told her about Dumbledore’s arrangements for my evening, I got landed in the hospital by a blow from a very heavy lamp. To hear Pansy tell it, the lamp apparently attacked me all by itself. Madam Pomfrey says I will always carry a scar from it hidden under my hair,” Draco explained with a nod and a smirk. “I think that either of us getting within ten feet of Pansy tonight would be a serious blow against inter-house unity, Granger.”

“You seem awfully amused by it,” Hermione said reprovingly.

“I’m naturally blessed with a superlative sense of humour, besides as an apology she did promise to handle my rounds with Filch for the next two weeks,” Draco drawled with a look of supreme satisfaction suffusing his pointed features.

Hermione looked as though she wanted to argue further about Draco exchanging forgiveness for bribery but thought better of it. The topic of what Draco was willing to forgive still felt way too dangerous a subject to explore. He hadn’t used the topic to make her feel uncomfortable just now, although it would have been quite easy for him to do so.

“Do you suppose they’re going to make us do anything poncy like say something good about the people on either side of us in order to get our food or anything?” Draco asked in consternation, and Hermione tried not to laugh too loudly at his look of concern.

“Well, since you’re sitting on the end maybe you’ll only have to say something nice about me if that happens,” she told him in amusement, “although to be perfectly fair that should make you have to say two nice things about me, or you could say something nice about Hagrid, who’s on the other end…”

“If that happens, you’re going to have to share your food with me, because I can’t think of a single, bloody thing about that oaf,” Draco snorted.

Before either of them could say anything else, Professor Dumbledore rose to address the students and staff. His voice rang out with absolute clarity and conviction, and everyone stopped to listen. “When you first arrived at this school, you were told that your houses would be like your families. However, a time dawns when we must all look to a bigger picture and a greater family--tonight is a reminder that all of Hogwarts is your family… all those magical and Muggle, humans and non-humans, are ultimately your family. Three and a half years ago, I told you that we are as strong as we are united. Tonight I must remind you that the day is coming when we must have faith in that bond, but tonight let us also enjoy that bond and cherish this moment of light in dark times.”

Hermione could feel her polite grin falter at the Headmaster’s cryptic words. She caught sight of Draco giving Professor Dumbledore one of the Slytherin’s customary cold looks, and she quickly scanned the students for signs of Harry and a reassuring grin, as she fixed her smile back into place. She found his messy black hair in the crowd, but she noticed in disappointment that he was facing away from her as nervous tendrils coiled inside her chest. Hermione felt warm fingers slipping over her own, and Draco gave her hand a reassuring squeeze under the tablecloth just as Harry turned back around and shot her a supportive grin. Still unsure of exactly why Professor Dumbledore’s words had rattled her, Hermione squeezed back against Malfoy’s hand gratefully and beamed at Harry.

Malfoy waited until Dumbledore finished the rest of his speech, which for once did not single out Potter, and told everyone to tuck in before saying anything to the witch at his side. Before Hermione could place her napkin in her lap, the blonde wizard had spirited it away and was keeping it just out of her reach as she tried to snatch it from him. “Malfoy, what on earth are you playing at?” Hermione whispered in annoyance.

“Potter’s watching,” Draco replied, looking inordinately pleased with himself, “but I just wanted to remind you that as Head Girl the other students look to you for leadership. If you start looking like you’re about to panic during one of the headmaster’s speeches, it sets a very scary precedent for them. Scaring them is my job, not yours,” Draco finished in her ear, dropping the napkin onto her lap.

Wondering if Harry had indeed been looking or if Malfoy had just been looking for an excuse to be a jerk, Hermione stared out at her friend. He was studying Malfoy with what Hermione recognized as an “angry Harry” expression. Harry was holding his fork like a wand, and Hermione was sure that he’d been giving serious consideration to exactly which curse he’d most like to perform on his school rival. She knew that Harry took Malfoy’s taunting nature very seriously, and he apparently thought he needed to come to Hermione’s aid at the moment.

“Malfoy, just talk to me like a normal person for tonight before Harry tries to hex you with his cutlery,” Hermione told him softly, before telling her plate that she wanted lamb.

“Yes, and for an encore I can cut your dinner for you in front of Potty, because we all know how he’ll stop worrying if I act suspiciously friendly. Shame you didn’t order something blatantly phallic. How is the lamb anyhow?” Draco asked between bites of pork chop.

The meal passed quite companionably, and Hermione found herself embroiled in a fairly challenging Arithmancy discussion with Draco and Professor Vector when the tables finally drew back for everyone to be able to dance. “If our Head Boy and Girl will please start us off,” Professor Dumbledore announced gesturing with his arms for them to take the floor while the Weird Sisters began to play their first song--a slow ballad.

Draco took Hermione’s hand, pulling her into a rather formal dance position. Hermione realised that Narcissa must have insisted upon Draco learning ballroom dancing, and she could clearly picture Draco as a little boy whining because his mother was forcing him to attend dance lessons when he wanted to play Quidditch. She did have to admit that true to Malfoy standards he was quite good at it as he directed her on the floor with his movements, easily leading her through the steps. Looking up, Hermione could see that Draco was watching the band playing across the room, and she remembered how different it was to slow dance with Viktor who always seemed to watch his feet nervously. Hermione wondered what it would feel like to dance close to Draco with his arms casually wrapped around her rather than the very careful and formal presentation that the wizard was making of this.

“In honour of their houses, I would like all Slytherins and Gryffindors to join their house mates. We are going to do a Muggle tradition that I have been informed is called A Snowball. When I call ‘snowball’ those students dancing will leave their partners and find a student from the opposite house, who is not dancing yet, and return to the dance with that person,” Professor Dumbledore proclaimed with a faint twinkle in the corner of his cornflower eyes. He had planned a series of mixer dances for the night to get members of opposing houses to spend forced time together without fighting. It was a small step, but students were always less hesitant to make a change if it was only a small one. “Other houses don’t despair! There will be plenty of dancing for everyone tonight, including teachers!”

Professor Snape could be heard clearly choking on his punch.

At Professor Dumbledore’s cue, Hermione and Draco broke. Draco returned with Parvati and Hermione selected a very surprised looking fourth year, who immediately puffed up with his importance as apparently being the most desirable Slytherin male despite his tendency to dance on her feet.

True to its name the dance snowballed as two couples turned to four then eight then sixteen. The song changed to a sensual, swirling dance beat, although it was slow enough that most people were still dancing in the same fashion as before. Students were beginning to run out of potential partners by the time that Millicent Bulstrode reluctantly invited Neville to dance. In Neville’s turn, he had to struggle through so many males that he inadvertently wound up in front of Pansy Parkinson.

“Listen up, Largebottom,” Pansy snarled disdainfully, as Neville stared at her with round eyes. “If you’ve come to ask me to dance, you’re insane. Dancing with you would be almost as bad as dancing with Goyle here,” she scoffed, eyeing her date with the same displeasure that she had shot at Neville, who’s face was beginning to purple with suppressed rage.

As Professor McGonagall wound her way through the throng of students to intervene, Neville shouted back, “I’d sooner dance with Goyle than you! In fact, I only came over here to offer Goyle my condolences. All the boys in Gryffindor are really sorry for him having to come to this dance with a stuck-up little snot like you.”

“Goyle is one step below an organ grinder’s monkey,” Pansy laughed, and Goyle turned his large head to glare at her.

As slow as he was at most everything, the burly wizard could obviously recognize an insult when it was hurled at him. Setting his jaw, Goyle grabbed Neville’s hand and began to two-step the helpless Gryffindor back across the floor as Pansy shouted after them and stared after them with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Students all around the room laughed loudly at the spectacle.

Professor Snape cornered the two boys on the dance floor. “What do you think you’re doing, Longbottom?”

Professor Snape had been the stuff of Neville’s nightmares since first year, and his intrusion into an already awkward situation was enough to have the round-faced wizard stammering incoherently.

Goyle looked up at his head of house with steely determination in his beady eyes. “He said he’d rather dance with me than Pansy, and when she was mean to me I said yes,” he replied slowly in his low grunt. It was the longest sentence anyone had ever heard Goyle speak.

“Be that as it may Goyle, you are supposed to be dancing with girls not making a spectacle of yourselves to get back at Miss Parkinson for her lack of etiquette.”

“The headmaster didn’t say it had to be girls,” the bulky Slytherin responded slyly, and Neville could suddenly see how years of hanging around Malfoy had allowed Goyle to learn how to bend the rules, even if he had learned precious little else at Hogwarts.


Neville caught sight of Pansy staring after them with crossed arms and a furiously tapping foot. “He’s right, Professor,” Neville piped up in a louder voice than he thought himself capable of in front of this particular teacher--and undoubtedly in a more confident tone than Snape expected out of him. Professor Snape sighed in exasperation, and the nearby students cheered loudly patting Neville and Goyle on the backs. Goyle looked back at the furious witch who was still steaming from the sidelines, and his eyes shone with malicious victory.

“I will talk to Miss Parkinson about her behaviour, but at the next partner change I’ll be expecting you both to be dancing with female partners,” Snape hissed, the corner of his eye twitching slightly. He swore that this would be the last time that he ever let a student publicly get the better of him on a technicality, but unfortunately it would stand out historically that the feat had been accomplished by Gregory Goyle and Neville Longbottom.

“This time,” called Professor Dumbledore over the laughter, “We will finish off the last of the Slytherins and Gryffindors not dancing. So if you can’t find a member of the opposite house who’s not dancing, you can dance with someone who is already dancing for the rest of the song. Now, snowball!”

Hermione felt lost in the crowd, as the throng around her scuttled for new partners, but her confusion was short lived as she was quickly caught up and spun across the dance floor by someone in black. It took her several moments to process the fact that Draco had her again and was leading her across the floor in a fast waltz as best she could guess. Then he looked down at her, and it happened.

When he pierced her with those steely grey eyes, Hermione felt like all the air had been knocked from her chest. She couldn’t speak, or even think to speak. She was dancing with the one student her peers hated most right in front of them, but that appearance was like ice covering the still surface of a lake. Below that protective façade she and Draco were a liquid secret filled with mysteries and wonders that none of these strange faces around them could see. It was murky and illogical, but at this moment it seemed that it was the world around them that was surreal and spinning fleetingly.

He was completely taboo, but Hermione realized now why she had been so miserable when she and Draco had been fighting. She wanted him in a way that went beyond sex. She wanted him--the person she saw inside those grey eyes, no matter what complications came with him. It was the thing that she’d been unwilling to admit even to herself. It wasn’t remotely connected to the potion anymore. There was only one word she knew that could express what she was feeling, but she couldn’t speak it. Hermione couldn’t imagine how Draco would react to hearing such an admission from her. It wasn’t something she was ready to speak aloud anyhow. She wanted to throw herself into Draco’s arms and kiss him until he understood, and she couldn’t do that either as the other couples twirled madly around them in a whir of colour and sound. The music seemed to crash dizzyingly over her.

Hermione slowly worked her hand around from his back, her fingers trailing over the folds and crinkles of his robes as they moved. When her hand reached his chest Hermione tentatively caressed a path upwards so that her palm came to rest over his heart. Closing her eyes, Hermione concentrated on that steady rhythm against her hand. The realization of her feelings and the impossible urge to express them were like a knife in her own chest, as she bowed her head and moved as close to him as Draco would allow. “Everything will be okay, Granger. It won’t be long now,” he promised quietly, obviously mistaking her dilemma. “After the whole school is dancing, we can slip away easier. Meet me outside the front doors in fifteen minutes,” he whispered.

All too soon the song was over and Hermione was adrift once more, feeling as though she couldn’t breathe until she was alone again with Draco Malfoy. She realized that if anyone saw her starting to cry they would think that Draco had done something awful to her. But perhaps he had. After all, what kind of idiot fell in love with a Malfoy?

“Don’t be daft, nobody has ever managed to spike one of the punchbowls at a Hogwarts dance,” Dean Thomas and a group of other Gryffindor boys were jeering at Seamus Finnegan, as Hermione wandered listlessly past them to an empty seat.

“Well, I say I can do it!” Seamus spat back defiantly. His stubborn streak was showing, and Dean saw the opportunity to lighten Seamus’s wallet by using it against him.

“I have twelve galleons in my pocket that say you can’t,” Dean challenged, fishing out his coins and already deciding how to spend his winnings after Seamus inevitably got caught and given a week’s worth of detentions.

Crabbe, who had been perched like a beetle in a flowerbed at the snack table, eyed the money in Dean’s palm greedily. This would be as easy as… well, taking money from a Gryffindor. He cleared his throat to get Seamus’s attention, and the shorter wizard rounded on him warily. Crabbe smiled widely, his broad features crinkling menacingly beneath his pudding-bowl hair cut. “I get half,” he croaked, motioning Seamus to follow him. Seamus paused for a second; then he followed after Crabbe’s large bulk, leaving Dean staring nervously after them.

“Sorry about your foot,” Ron sheepishly told Luna, as he tried to keep up with her frenetic dancing.

Luna glowed with pleasure, when Ron looked at her. “It’s okay, really. I’m sorry about your eye too,” Luna admitted softly, staring up at where Ron’s eye was starting to purple from her inadvertently hitting him with her fist while dancing.

“Barely hurts anymore,” Ron told her, evidently trying to keep a stiff upper lip about his date’s surprisingly gifted left jab. Looking up he said, “Is that the mistletoe that we strung?” Luna’s eyes followed his, and she nodded too busy wondering if Ron was about to kiss her to speak. “Better not risk the Nargles then,” he told her pulling Luna brusquely away from the spot where they’d been gyrating to the music. Only once they were safely clear of any contaminated greenery did he bend down and kiss her deeply. He couldn’t tell for sure over the loud music, but he thought he could hear Luna sighing contentedly. He might have been hearing himself.

When he pulled away, Luna was staring up dewy-eyed and her face looked ready to split in two. She raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his eye very gently. “That’ll make it better faster than any healing spell,” she swore. “Daddy did a whole layout on healing through kissing in the same issue that chronicled Cornelius Fudge’s hidden plan to take over Gringotts. The idea for it was inspired by my mother. The kissing article that is. Not the one on Fudge,” Luna clarified, looking thoughtful.

“Sounds like the sanest premise in the world,” Ron agreed, and he kissed her again. “Why don’t we get some punch?”

“Hey, Hermione! Where are you going?” Ginny called, rushing to catch up to her friend with Harry in tow.

“Oh,” Hermione started, as Ginny planted herself directly in Hermione’s way. “I was just going to the loo,” Hermione told her, trying not to look as guilty as she felt.

Ginny studied her critically as though trying to decide if everything looked all right with the older girl. “I’ll go with,” she stated with a nod. “Harry, you wait here.” With that Ginny grabbed Hermione by the arm and headed off towards the nearest girls’ lavatory.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Hermione?” Ginny asked as she tugged the hesitant girl along. “Because you look upset. I just had the strangest thing happen to me, and I’ve got to tell you about it. So if you’ve got something to talk about, we can swap problems,” Ginny prattled on as they headed into the hallway.

“But you’re getting to spend the dance with Harry now, so what could be wrong?” Hermione asked, watching Malfoy covertly duck outside from the corner of her eye as Ginny dragged her away towards the lav.

“Yes, and that’s the best bit of luck that I’ve had tonight!” the redhead muttered. “You want to know what that sleaze Ernie did to me at dinner?” she demanded. “He started rubbing my knee under the table, and he tried to fondle my bum when I sat down too!” Ginny was obviously furious, and her face had coloured to that deep red that spelled danger in all of the Weasleys. “Should I tell Harry, and let him punch Ernie, or should I tell Susan, or should I just find a way to get revenge quietly and not involve the others?” Ginny asked, drawing her brows together in deep consideration of her options.

“Um, Ginny…” Hermione stammered, checking both directions. “I really will try to think of a solution for you, but I need to be alone for a bit to get some air more than I need the loo,” Hermione told her desperately. She pulled her arm free, and headed down the hall in a jog without looking back. “I’ll tell you what to do tomorrow after I’ve slept on it,” she called back, as she made her escape.

Ginny crossed her arms and stared after the departing witch’s back. “Oh, I’ll figure it out myself!” she ground out in frustration. She was after all the little sister of Fred and George Weasley. She caught sight of something sparkling on the floor near her feet and bent to pick it up. “Oi, Hermione! You lost an earring,” Ginny called retracing her steps down the hallway. She didn’t see Hermione anywhere in the entryway. She pulled open the castle door. There was no one standing on the front steps and no trace of footsteps in the fresh snow that had settled over the castle grounds. Squinting, Ginny could see movement in the distance heading away from the castle through the falling snow.

Draco threw off the cloak that he’d been holding over their heads after the greenhouse door was tightly closed behind them and the magical wards were securely in place. Through the snow the greenhouse had seemed to glow oddly, and as the two students turned around towards the potted forest before them it became clear why.

The Helios Apples were blooming, and each of their pendulous open flowers glowed like a small, weak sun. Even the pollen falling from the flowers glimmered like floating fairy lights, and Hermione at first took the dancing orbs of light for fairy lights or foxfire. The greenhouse was wonderfully warm, and condensation from the balmy air frosted the windows to the cold outside so that Hermione could only see the falling snow in bits and patches as she walked between the rows of trees with their heavy blossoms hanging overhead. She removed the fur-trimmed cloak that covered her strapless evening robes and laid it across a clean potting table.

Draco spread out some blankets he’d hidden between the trees on an earlier trip to the greenhouse and covered them with his heavy cloak, and Hermione watched secretly, still lost in her thoughts from their last dance. “More comfortable than some damnable desk or alcove,” Draco announced, studying his handiwork. It looked like a cozy little nest secluded beneath the glowing canopy and the flickering lights that spilled down around them, flowing on the air currents every time they moved or spoke.

Draco straightened further as he waited for her approval, but Hermione wasn’t saying anything for once. Hermione was just staring at him with a bemused expression written across her beautiful features. He had stopped taking the painkiller two days earlier, but he knew that it wasn’t just the result of the Adamo Fidelitas that he thought her breathtaking framed by the exotic trees and luminous flowers. He’d thought she’d looked beautiful at their fourth year ball well before ever ingesting any mind and libido-altering potion. Tendrils of her hair had worked their way loose, making her look softer and more ethereal than before. She stood before him like a fragile dream in the dancing and flickering firefly light that surrounded them. Despite his fear of shattering the vision, Draco made his way to her side and placed his hands upon heruldeulders, running them down her bare arms.

Hermione closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck pulling him close as she began to sway slowly back and forth. She hummed the same sthatthat they had been dancing to earlier, as she laid her cheek against his chest. Draco picked up the motion, wrapping his left arm around her back and running his right hand up and down her arm with a feather light touch. Hermione relaxed as the world around her finally stopped spinning.

She pulled Draco’s face towards hers, letting her parted lips brush over his and running the tip of her tongue over his lips until he granted her the access that she wanted. Draco’s head buzzed as Hermione kissed him thoroughly, running her fingers through his soft, sleek hair and circling the edges of his ears with her fingertips.

Draco could hear warnings going off in his head again, as Hermione’s tongue met his, sending his brain into a near tactile overload. The moment struck him as stunningly romantic, swaying slowly to Hermione’s soft voice while transient lights and exotic trees hid them from the rest of humanity, from the cold and snow of the outside world; and with the extraordinary intensity coming from Hermione tonight, Draco could feel his emotions bubbling up dangerously. God, had Granger figured it out? Was it the same for her? A small voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him, “Danger!” He was crossing an emotional boundary, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Hermione pulled back, and Draco could feel her pressing something hard and thin into his hand. “Put it with yours so I don’t have to look after it for now,” Hermione told him as she opened the buttons on his jacket and pressed her lips to his flushed skin. Draco raised his hand to see that he was now clutching her wand. She cupped his growing erection in her hand, massaging him gently through the soft fabric of his trousers, as she kissed her way further down his rapidly heaving chest, and Draco had a premonition of exactly what Hermione was planning to onigonight.

Even with her wand in hand, Draco was seeing a rapid succession of terrible things she could still do to him, and he was quite certain that he couldn’t handle any of them at the moment. She’d been quite forward in Snape’s cupboard too, and Draco found himself wondering if he’d done anything this evening that he was about to pay for. “You really don’t have to do this,” he panted, lacing his fingers into hai hair and pulling her face back from where she was kissing a trail down his abdomen.

Searching through the near panic on his face, Hermione’s resolve that she most certainly did have to do this only strengthened. She wanted to do this with Draco, and she’d be damned if she let some thoughtless prank have him acting like a ninny about something that he should very well be enjoying. She slipped his jacket down his arms and kissed a trail along his jaw. Hermione turned her back to Draco and placed his fingers on the neat row of buttons that ran down the back of her fitted gown. She looked up at him over her shoulder, as she waited for him to finish unbuttoning her.

As the heavy fabric fell to her feet with a soft whoosh, Hermione stepped out of the circle of cloth. Her bared breasts rubbed against Draco’s smooth chest as she turned back to him, and she kissed him lightly as her fingers returned to the fastenings that held Draco confined bd a d a layer of velvet. She peeled away his pants and pushed his naked form back towards the nest of blankets that he had laid out for them. Draco lay back watching with glittering eyes as Hermione crouched over him and bent to kiss him. Kneeling over him, Hermione began to shower his body with kisses as Draco let his hands wander over her yielding flesh.

Hermione extended her tongue to lap at the planes of Draco’s chest, flicking the pointed tip over his sensitive nipples and tracing the ridges of his abdominal muscles as his body tensed with anticipation below her and his breathing grew ragged. Draco kneaded her soft breasts, willing his body to relax as the pleasurable assault upon his senses continued. Hermione took his hands and placed them beneath the waist of her knickers, as she continued to lavish his sensitive skin with the warm explorations of her mouth and tongue, and Draco could feel his erection surge with a fresh wave of desire that nearly undid him on the spot.

Draco pinched heolleollen clitoris between his fingers, eliciting a loud moan from Hermione and causing her to buck back against his fingers, as she reached down and took his straining erection in her hands--stroking him in time with the motions of his fingers as he continued to pinch and pull gently at her sensitive bud in a way that sent a wonderfully painful needgingging into her throbbing core. Hermione could feel her body responding with a wave of moisture as he drove her crazy with the sweet torture of his fingers, and she whimpered unabashedly as she repositioned herself over Draco with her hips close to his face as she straddled him on all fours and dipped her head to finally brush her tongue over the weeping slit at the tip of his purpling cock. She was rewarded with a soft groan that sent chills up her spine.

Draco understood completely what Hermione wanted now, and he wasted no time in stripping away the skimpy layer of damp satin that kept him from her prize. He pumped his index finger into her, maddeningly giving her a taste of how he could fill her as her body tried to grip that long digit and coat it with her juices. Hermione gasped, pressing back against his finger until it was withdrawn completely. Hermione knew she had to concentrate on her own task of pleasuring Draco, but his attentions were incredibly distracting.

As she laved him with slow caresses of her tongue, Draco pressed his thumb into her honeyed opening as his other fingers spread her neat folds to his view. Hermione felt unbelievably vulnerable as this position opened her up thoroughly to his view, and it felt odd for him to be using his thumb. It was very good, but he’d never done it this way to her before, and Hermione was dying with curiosity about what he intended to do next.

She lowered her head, taking him further into her mouth and circling the sensitive crown of his member with her tongue as she sought to swallow him as completely as she could. His skin felt so unbelievably silky against her lips, and Draco spread his legs, planting his feet on the blankets and pushed back with his hips gently as his need continued to soar. Hermione released his bulging cock from between her stretched lips and began to take his balls into her mouth next, exploring the taste and texture of him as she sucked on them and tongued them one at a time.

Draco rolled his head from sto sto side, allowing her more access to his thickening scrotum so that she knew to continue exactly what she was doing. The pressure of her mouth was amazing, as she stroked his shaft slowly from the base in her tight fingers pausing to pinch the tip of his erection before releasing him and starting to stroke him from base to tip again.

Draco had to return some of that pleasure to the woman astride him, and he wondered vaguely how she would respond at first to what he wanted to do to her. He gave her inner thigh a sharp bite that distracted her entirely for a moment, and then he worked the index finger that had been inside her earlier into the puckered ring of her anus with a smooth motion. It was tight, but still well lubricated and comfortable. He could tell that Hermione was on the verge of protesting, but then he pinched the thin membrane of skin between his thumb and index finger together while pulling his fingers back. A warm friction was growing around Draco’s fingers, making Hermione long for more.

Hermione moaned again, losing track of what she was doing completely for a moment as her upper body collapsed atop Draco’s hips and she offered up more of her hips to him. Hermione felt deeply confused about what she was allowing Draco to do, but despite the strangeness of it, his actions felt heavenly as he pushed his thumb and forefinger deep into her openings again before pinching them together and pulling gently at the sensitive skin between them as his fingers slid out of her. Oh God, he could own her completely just so long as he didn’t stop.

Hermione had to bury her lips against him to muffle her pleasured cries with each movement that he was making. She slid her lips back around his testicles, letting her moans vibrate through his skin as she concentrated on sucking and fondling him in response. Draco’s other arm snaked around her hips, pulling them down to his face as he planted his wet mouth between her swollen lips and proceeded to ravish her with his tongue and teeth and the suction of his mouth as his fingers worked her with more strength than before.

She was ready to come already, and Draco had to back off repeatedly to prevent her from coming well in advance of him. It was his threat she knew, that she had better intend to finish what she had started this time if she wanted for him to end this torture. Of course, it had been her plan all along to give him this leverage so that he would feel comfortable enough to let her do this for him again. She’d just had no idea how incredible that power was going to be.

She took Draco’s length as deep into her throat as she could, feeling the muscles at the back of her mouth clench at the effort. She continued the action, just skirting gag-gag-reflex, and she could feel Draco getting closer and closer as her mouth gripped him tightly. She stroked the base of his shaft with one hand, and caressed his scrotum with the other cupping and fingering his full balls encouragingly. Draco began to attack her with his mouth again with a fury, his tongue frantically lapping at her protruding clitoris, as his hips rocked gently in time with her motions, and Hermione knew he was on the cusp. She could feel the power she had over him, in the pleasure that he gave her in response. That desperate effort from both of them to bring the other to the same heights they each were experiencing.

Draco’s body seized, his back arching despite her body weight resting atop him, as his body finally released the tension that Hermione had been building in him with a coursing tremor that began deep inside his balls and ended with the warm, musky seed flooding Hermione’s mouth. The blissful sensation continued as her mouth worked around him swallowing his release as her hands tried to coax more from him.

Seconds later, Hermione was gasping around his softening prick as her openings clenched around his pumping fingers and his mouth lapped determinedly at her quaking bud. Her hips bucked reflexively against him, grinding her sex into his face as he drank in her flowing juices. Hermione collapsed atop him, shaking and crying out loudly in helpless pleasure as the contionsions spent themselves against him and Draco held her twitching hips tightly, tonguing her ardently until she was too exhausted to bear any more.

He gave her bottom a fond pat before removing his fingers from her, and Hermione slid her hips off him as she came to rest alongside him with her head propped up against his hips as her eyelids fluttered closed peacefully. Hermione was vaguely aware of Draco casting a couple of spells to clean them up, and he sounded as exhausted as she felt. “Come here,” he croaked finally, yanking playfully at her big toe.

Hermione raised her head a few centimetres and promptly decided that she was too spent for even that much movement. “I can’t,” she whinged with the slightest ghost of a smile on her face. “Too much effort to move,” she told him.

“Right,” Draco huffed. “You’re going to pay for making me get up, Granger,” he warned her, as he sat up and pulled Hermione up to lie alongside him properly, covering them with his cloak. When he kissed her she could taste herself on his lips, and she knew that Draco tasted himself as well and wasn’t squeamish about kissing her anyhow. There was no rush to it now, yet the kiss held a need to thank one another for the ecstasy that their mouths had just wrought. Hermione felt she could spend the rest of the night just like this, draped against Draco’s warm body with his insistent kisses and their lazy caresses.

“I want to ask you something,” Hermione told him, and Draco who was lying on his back with his arm loosely around her grunted to signify that he’d heard her. “Well, maybe it’s more of a discussion really,” Hermione said, biting her lip. Draco made a noise that she could have sworn sounded like a suppressed laugh. “I’m serious,” she snapped, slapping him half-heartedly across the chest.

“I haven’t stopped you from speaking, have I?” Draco reminded her, taking a deep breath and stretching.

“Dumbledore’s speech tonight started me thinking about something,” Hermione told him, sounding worried now. “We both know what your father is… and it’s only a matter of time before he’s going to want you to follow in his footsteps, isn’t it?” Hermione said, pressing her cheek into his chest. Draco seemed to be listening very quietly, his chest rising and falling slowly as he squeezed her arm.

“Professor Dumbledore was talking about the dark times still to come, and I when they come I just want to know that you won’t be my enemy,” Hermione told him levelly.

“Have you ever thought you were in mortal danger from me before,” Draco responded, calmly.

“Well, there were a couple of moments in Snape’s cupboard,” Hermione responded with a rueful grin. The pensive Slytherin alongside her did not smile back, and Hermione knew she’d said something that bothered him. “I’d just never seen you lose your temper like that before,” Hermione hurriedly added. “Before we left the closet, I knew that I’d never been in any danger. I was just very surprised to see you so angry. It’s odd, because sometimes I think I can read you and other times you’re like a blank wall.”

“Professor Snape has been drilling the thought that only fools wear their emotions for the world to see into my head since day one here,” Draco acknowledged, watching the light show from the trees blooming above them.

Hermione recognized the principal from Harry’s rants about his private lessons with Snape. “Occlumency!” she breathed. Draco’s eyes snapped to her immediately. “Professor Snape’s teaching you Occlumency?” she demanded.

“I should have realized that you’d know all about obscure magical branches,” Draco huffed with a nod. He found her smile quite unnerving. She seemed to trust their Professor, as did the Headmaster, but so did Lucius and the Dark Lord. Draco wondered just which side of the fray his favourite Professor fancied himself on the side of.

“That explains so much,” Hermione exclaimed with a relieved sigh. “Listen, there’s something that you should know about Voldemort,” she continued determinedly. She could see Draco cringe at the name, but it was rather relieving for him to show anything that could be interpreted as distaste for the man to whom his father was pledged. “Don’t tell me, Draco, that you’re afraid to say Voldemort,” she teased, using his own first name as a taunt.

“I know enough about what the Dark Lord can do to take his name seriously, Hermione,” Draco warned darkly. He felt that same sick feeling as he had a few nights ago, and he suddenly found it difficult not to tighten his grip on the soft witch curled against him. He buried the disturbing feelings as deeply as he could.

Hermione stared back at him evenly. “Well, I won’t give him the power of my fear,” she responded levelly. “He’s not even a puood,ood, you know? His father was a Muggle, so he’s only a halfblood just like he accuses Harry of being. He’s only a demented halfblood,” she said acerbically.

Draco raised his eyebrows to study her more closely. “So you’re saying that I have my choice of following one of two demented halfbloods, and you want me to choose yours?” Draco asked, as he pushed a sweaty lock of hair from her forehead.

Hermione shot him a withering look, which seemed to please him. “I personally don’t ascribe to either or situations,” he announced. “Who says there are only two sides to choose from? Perhaps I’ll choose neither and create my own side. Maybe the ministry will create its own side. Maybe Slytherin will u to to form a third front after tonight. Why do anything halfway? Maybe I’ll chuck it all and follow a deranged Muggle,” he suggested in a lazy drawl.

“You’ve never said that your father doesn’t want you to follow him,” Hermione reminded him. “What was it like to be reared by Lucius Malfoy anyhow?”

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, he used to tell me the most inventive bedtime stories as a child,” the blonde responded with the beginnings of wicked humour about his features. “Goldilocks and the Three Muggles was always my favourite. Would you like to hear it?” he suggested; and Hermione hit him again, protesting and trying to turn her back to him as Draco held her securely against his chest.

“Once upon a time there was a young wizard with hair as brilliant as the sun, not to mention handsome looks, extraordinarily good disposition, stupendous wealth, and as much humbleness as one could ever hope to find in one so perfect,” Draco began unfazed by Hermione’s snickering and struggling.

“Honestly!” the brainy witch interjected at that statement, and she gave up her fake thrashing to listen.

“Yes, and our young hero was called Goldilocks because of his beautiful hair, which was a family trait too. And one day when he was in his teens he decided to visit his family’s country manor for a spot of hunting in their very secluded woods. The house elves their were not accustomed to his preferences, so they did everything more than one way so that something would always please him. But while he was out hunting three Muggles came to the manor, and being nosy individuals by nature they let themselves in and began making themselves at home.”

“I can guess where this is going, Malfoy!” Hermione groaned.

Draco just grinned more broadly. “The first Muggle had a terrible, disfiguring scar across his face and presented a horrible visage. The second Muggle had hair like flames, and he came from a poor family. He wore rags and whinged constantly. The third Muggle was a female and a bit different from the other two. She did have tragic, bushy hair, but otherwise was fairly pleasing and intelligent. She didn’t want to trespass onto Goldilocks property, but the other two Muggles seldom listened to her good advice and dragged her into whatever trouble they could create by their impulsive actions,” Draco explained, and Hermione tried to hide the fact that she was laughing behind her hand.

“So the first Muggle decided to help himself to Goldilocks’s supper, and plopped down in an Elizabethan chair to start licking the food off the family’s good china. He had picked the setting where the house elves had made a very spicy and hot curry dish, and he began loudly complaining that the food was too hot. Then the raggedy second Muggle followed suit and started gulping down great bowls of soup from another setting, because he was always revoltingly hungry and without table manners. Then he whinged that his soup was too cold, and the girl Muggle who was used to having to mother him explained with some frustration that it was gazpacho and meant to be served cold. Because her tummy was rumbling from hunger, the girl Muggle finally decided to sample little tastes off several plates being sure to leave plenty for the owner of the plates. Unlike the others, she had a sophisticated palate, and she could only admit that the food was just right.”

Hermione hated to admit it but Draco could do strikingly accurate impressions, even if they were rather cruelly humorous. “Right, so then I’m sure the boys broke some of the good furniture while complaining about it being too soft or hard, and then everyone wanted to take a nap,” Hermione snorted, trying to hurry his story along.

“Ah, did Father ever tell you this story by any chance?” Draco asked, teasingly. “Well, the scar-headed Muggle took Goldilocks’s father’s room, where the mattress was exceedingly firm to help with his back. Deciding that the bed was too hard, despite the down pillow top, Scarhead contented himself by jumping up and down on the bed. The redheaded Muggle took Goldilocks’s mother’s room, where he decided that the bed was too soft. I won’t go into detail about what he did with her lingerie to amuse himself, but he certainly coveted all that new clothing that surrounded him in there. The girl Muggle ended up in Goldilocks’s room, where she was thoughtful enough to remove her shoes and she curled up in his very comfy bed and fell straight to sleep,” Draco continued, rubbing Hermione’s back as he spoke.

Hermione rolled her eyes and snuggled up closer to him, raising the cloak as she went. “They’re not as awful as you like to pretend, you know?” she told him with a yawn.

“I’m sure you jest,” Draco sniffed. “So Goldilocks returned from his hunting with a couple of lovely rabbits, only to find the front door wide open, a pile of dirty soup bowls on his table, and the frantic house elves trying to fix a settee and couch in the sitting room. So our hero went looking for the culprits responsible, and in the bedrooms he found them. He dispatched the first Muggle with a superb jelly-legs curse, and Scarhead wobbled away to scare children elsewhere with his hideously disfigured face. He sent the second Muggle scrambling away in a lacy peignoir with a series of very angry curses, and he ordered the house elves to burn all of the violated undergarments in that room,” Draco drawled.

“I can’t imagine your father limiting himself to jelly-legs for a big retribution curse,” Hermione said pointedly.

“Well, I’m toning this down for your delicate ears, Granger,” Draco explained. “Father tells this a bit differently with more blood and disembowling hexes. This next part is where Father and I really differ in the tale though. In his version Goldilocks kills all the Muggles and burns his own bed rather than sleep in it again. In my version, he finds the girl Muggle sound asleep and sees how she was more thoughtful than the other two. So he decides to curl up for a nap next to her, and he notices how very nice her bushy hair smells and that she’s quite comfortable to snuggle with… squishy in all the right places and such,” Draco said suggestively squeezing Hermione’s bare bottom.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs quite hard at that. “Oof,” he grunted and removed his hand in disappointment. “So he decided not to kill her. She was a bit frightened when she first woke up, but it didn’t take her long to realize that she wasn’t in any danger and that she quite fancied the wizard she found in the bed with her. Once he woke up and explained what happened to the other Muggles, she found herself quite pleased that she would no longer be stuck mothering and cleaning up after those irresponsible gits. So she and Goldilocks celebrated with a mind-bendingly good shag,” Draco concluded, leaning forward to nibble on one of Hermione’s earlobes.

Draco rolled over so that Hermione was beneath him, and he covered her face with quick kisses. “In fact, Granger, I think it sounds like an excellent idea right now,” he crowed, as Hermione giggled underneath him.

“I honestly hope you’ve never tried telling stories like that to the first years in your house,” she squeaked, as Draco nuzzled her neck and let his fingers wander to fondle her breasts.

Author’s Note: Some months back I shared a few emails back and forth with a cool and knowledgeable reader named ChicagoChica, who asked some good questions about Helios Apple. I couldn’t find the original class notes on the subject of the golden apples, but I was able to reconstruct it pretty well from both memory and a few online sources. Since this chapter saw the first introduction of the plants themselves, I thought this would be the perfect place to do the author’s note that I promised her, covering everything you always wanted to know about Helios Apple but were afraid to ask.

Now the first thing I should probably explain is where the name comes from, as the Golden Apples in greek mythology aren’t precisely named. They are mostly just referred to as “golden apples” or “melio khryseioi” in Greek. You can also hear them referred to as the “apples of the Hesperides” as they were commonly said to guard the tree, or “Hera’s apples” as they were given to her by Gaia as a wedding present and grew in her garden. However those are not the only way that these magical fruits appear in mythology.

It’s important to know that if the Greeks really liked a story they would happily retell the tale, and many of their myths are retellings of each other. And the golden apples were sometimes recycled in a most unusual way due to a peculiarity of language. The word “melio” in ancient Greece translated to both “apple/melon” and “sheep”. At different times and in different stories the “meloi khryseioi” would sometimes be apples and sometimes sheep. It was actually a very well-known duality at the time. It is also where the term Helios Apple comes from for this story.

While reading the Odyssey in college our teacher, who specialized in Ancient Greek literature, taught us about that duality when “the sheep of Helios” were mentioned in book 11 of the Odyssey, explaining how they could also be interpreted as Helios’s apples. The dual meanings were so well known that when Apuleius wrote his tale about Psyche being challenged to collect wool from the vicious golden sheep the comparison was clear even though he wrote in Latin rather than Greek.

The story of Hercules stealing golden apples as his eleventh labor can be interpretated as a parallel tale with the story of Jason and the Argonauts stealing the Golden Fleece from the land of Colchis. In both cases our heroes must travel to the far west, where Helios the sun parks his chariot after riding across the sky during the day. In fact, King Aeëtes is Helios’s son in the Argonautica and Medea is Helios’s granddaughter. In the Argonautica the fleece is from Krios Khrysomallos, a talking ram sent to rescue two children named Phrixos and Helle from being sacrificed wrongfully and which brings Phrixos to Colchis before the ram is sacrificed and hung in a tree to guard the land. Even without using the same term, the parallel of a golden skin of wool hanging in a tree has incredibly strong ties to the dual meaning of “golden apples”. Both heros must face a many headed serpent who does not sleep while guarding a golden bounty. Hercules’s task is even mentioned in the Argonautica, binding the parallel tales even tighter.

Since the location of the golden apples always is set in the far west--where the sun god, Helios, parks his chariot for the night--and the look of these apples is so solar (gold is a solar metal), I decided to give them the proper name of Helios Apples for this story. (I sure wasn’t going to have Hermione and Draco sacrificing sheep for this story either, so the apple part should go without saying. *chuckle*)

There are a couple of other facts about Helios Apples in mythology that have interesting connections to the story. Among the alternate accounts of where Eris got the Apple of Discord is one by Colluthus of her stealing the apple from the Hesperides as the apples were said to bring war and fighting between people. It was a subject of art, and you might be able to find an online picture of Eris Chooses the Apple of Contention\" by Joseph Mallord William Turner, which was painted in 1806. So that adds to its use in the cure for this lust spell.

Also, one of the origin stories for the constellation Draco is that he was the dragon who guarded the golden apples. After Hercules killed him, Hera was deeply saddened and to remember him and reward his loyal service she swung him up into the sky where he became the constellation for which our favorite Slytherin is named.

Other than that I just want to clarify that in the beginning of this chapter, the present isn’t too expensive to have come from Harry because he wouldn’t have had the money. It’s too expensive to have come from Harry because it’s too expensive to have come from just a friend. I couldn’t find a way to work that in while keeping the flow of that section sounding right.

The information about Harry and Ginny planning to switch dates originally occurred back when Ron asked Hermione to the ball, but it had to be cut there for reasons of flow. It totally changed the direction of the conversation between Hermione and Ron, but otherwise it would have been easier for you to all have known that tidbit a bit earlier.

For those of you who are interested, while I was writing the dance scene where Hermione realizes her fngs,ngs, the song I was listening to and hearing in the scene was Black Black Heart by David Usher. Something about the swirling sound of the music and the emotion of it made it a very cool background for me. Anyone else who wants to try listening to it in that scene can see how the song fits for them.

Other than that I just want to apologize for how late this chapter was. A few of you who I was emailing knew that I had it done in late May except for the author’s note, and I was really trying to get it posted before Amber moved and lost her internet connection. I had a really big family emergency spring up, and it kept me off the computer for the past two months. Everyone is okay now, and I don’t want to see the inside of a hospital again for quite some time. It is causing me to change my schedule and put more priority on writing my own book, but I will still be working on AF because I really love this story and the characters.

I’m about to try wading through the thousands of adds for viagra that have undoubtedly popped up in my email in the last few months, and I’ll try to answer all the real letters that I find. If any get lost in the mess that is my inbox, I apologize in advance.

IMPORTANT: Starting Aug 1, 2004 Adamo Fidelitas will be in the Draco/Hermione sub-category. I realized this time that lots of people might not realize that I\'d moved it and where to look for updates because it will no longer show up in the regular HP list apparently when it\'s in there. So pass the information on. :)

Also... since this chapter went up yesterday, I\'ve had several requests for a update list because of my busy schedule. I started thinking about doing an update list through Yahoo groups or something like that as a result. (At this point I could create a Yahoo group in my sleep.) I could simply put it in a special notice when I had a new chapter up, and people could subscribe under special notices only. Or I could pretty much set it up however everyone wanted. (faqs, questions, or just another excuse to talk about whatever fanfic you\'re into) Let me know in a review or a private email, and if people are interested I\'m willing to do an update list for you.