Year Seven:Blindsided

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of these characters or places; they belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. It’s her world; I just play in it.


Chapter 16-Christmas Presents from Strangers


By the time that Madam Pomfrey released Hermione from the Hospital Wing just before lunch on the day after her “accident”, the vast majority of the school had already made their way into Hogsmeade to board the train bound for London and Holiday cheer. She was glad of the silence that the relative solitude afforded her. She preferred the sound of a lone pair of feet echoing softly off of the naked stone walls of the corridors of the castle to the deafening cacophony of voices that filled them during the rest of the school year.


Hermione Granger had always been acutely aware of the power of words, but as she stood entranced by the lack of sound entire she came to understand that silence, too, could wield an awesome power. Little did she know that at that moment she’d learned the very secret that would later spare her life.


(Hermione was not at all startled when an aged hand landed gently on her shoulder. She turned to see Dumbledore standing next to her, it did not occur to her to wonder how he had appeared so silently beside her, somehow she knew. Those who understood the secrets of silence had no need to speak of its power. Deep beneath the quiet there lay a current of energy that conveyed collective thought and could be tapped, to mask the sounds of its patrons. Hermione turned to the Headmaster and nodded, at last she understood his complicated air.)


She stood basking in the power of the pervasive silence for an indeterminate amount of time before her stomach’s protest broke into her reverie. The young witch shook her curly head and once more she began to walk to the Great Hall for lunch.


The Hall was nearly empty, as was normal for this time of year. She headed for the Gryffindor table and plopped down between Harry and Ron. She’d nearly managed to finish her meal before one of her friends asked her about her hospitalization. Ginny looked up from the latest addition of The Daily Prophet and said, “ ‘Mione I hope you are feeling better. You are aren’t you?”


“I’m all right. Madam Pomfrey is a miracle worker.” Hermione’s tone indicated to her friends and housemates that she wished not to discuss the matter any further, or at least it should have. Alas, when her classmates grew excited about something their collective power to pick up on subtleties, such as tone, was severely diminished. The others at her table went on about how they would punish Pansy for her crime, Hermione was fast becoming annoyed by this and decided to put a stop to it.


“You do realize that Snape is the person who will determine her punishment, don’t you? Which means that she will not get anything more severe than a slap on her fat wrist. Now please drop this, I really don’t want to think about it anymore.” Her outburst was followed with a strangely obsequious absence of speech. In a couple of minutes someone took up the thread of conversation with which team they’d picked for winning the Quidditch World Cup this year. Hermione was relieved that they’d finally moved onto another topic, she finished her meal without speaking.


Snape paced the full length of his office and back again lividly glaring at Pansy as he considered the method of punishment he was going to mete out to her. “Would you mind telling me Miss Parkinson exactly why you felt the need to bludgeon another student? I doubt if your parents would be very pleased to find you have acted like a troll, or worse like a Muggle.”


Pansy shuddered at this pronouncement. Snape was right; her parents were likely to flay her for such barbaric behavior. She had to think of a way to weasel out of this. She had it! “Professor, I had to, I was protecting Draco from that disgusting mudblood. If his father heard any of the rumors I’ve been hearing about the two of them being…involved, then my poor little Drakie would get beaten beyond recognition. I can’t see him hurt Professor. I love him.”


“Regardless of your feelings you have absolutely no right to strike another student. You say that you love young Master Malfoy? Then why is it that you’d attack the one that he loves?”


‘Ah-ha! Busted!’ Pansy thought.


“It doesn’t seem as though you have a very high regard for him at all. Perhaps you ought to leave him alone.”


“Professor, perhaps you should take your own advice. I’ve seen the way you look at her. To think a repulsive little mudblood making all of the most attractive Purebloods into her love slaves. Its disgusting.” Pansy ran her chubby fingers down the immaculate black silk robes of the Potions Master. Snape nearly vomited at the touch of the vulgar strumpet.


“Fifty points from Slytherin,” hissed Snape dangerously close to losing the tenuous hold he had on his temper. “There is a way to solve this, without involving your parents, Miss Parkinson. That is if you have an interest in avoiding their punishment…”


Draco finished his lunch with all haste and withdrew to Hermione’s bedroom as quickly as he could. He wanted it to be perfect for her when she came back to see him after lunch. With the help of Dobby he’d decorated the room for Christmas. It was sunning. Dobby disappeared with a low bow as Draco put the finishing touch on the decorations. He’d just finished carefully strewing the bed with red rose petals when he heard the portrait hole open. He also heard Hermione speaking to someone else.


“Thanks, you know that you didn’t have to walk me back up here. I’m fine. Do you think that Madam Pomfrey would have let me go if I weren’t in proper shape to walk around the castle?”


“No, of course not.”


“Ginny, what are you so down in the mouth about? Is it Harry?” The redhead nodded and continued to look at the floor as if she found the smooth stone to be nothing short of fascinating. “I’m going to give you a bit of advice, you don’t have to take it, but you do have to hear me out.” Another nod and eye contact accompanied this statement.


“Ginny I think that you should take the risk. Love is worth it, I promise you. Besides it will do your brother no good to pine for someone who could never love him the way he deserves to be loved. I know Ron as well as you do and once he finds someone he’ll realize how silly he has been these long months. Now, put a smile on that pretty face and go prove to Harry that he has finally met his match; if you do he will never stray.”


“I-I think I will. Thanks ‘Mione.” Ginny swept her into a tight hug and dashed into the candle lit corridor, this time it was Harry who had no idea what was coming his way and he would be pleasantly surprised and enchanted.


Ginny was nearly to the Gryffindor common room before she caught what Hermione had said to her, “Love is worth it, I promise you.” How did she know? She hadn’t been seeing anyone since Harry, and that was months ago. There was no way that she’d not dish to her best if she were seeing someone, its what girls do! Ginny shook off this train of thought; it was getting her nowhere, and she took a short mental recess to realign her game plan for winning Harry.


Hermione smiled at Ginny’s retreating back and turned to find her beloved looming in the open doorway to her room leering at her. “That was a very sweet thing to say, I hope you meant it Sugar.” She shook her head, she did not like this nickname either; it felt to her that he wanted to stir her into his morning coffee.


“What are you doing?”


“I have a surprise for you.” He held out a green and cream-colored silken handkerchief and folded it to make a blindfold. He placed this blindfold over her eyes and tied it in an intricate knot. “Can you see me? Can you see anything?” Each question was greeted with a shake of her magnificent tresses. He stepped in front of her and began to make silly faces at her, just to be sure that she couldn’t see.


“Draco, can we get on with this? Standing in front of me making faces all day won’t get accomplish much at all my Dragon.”


“I thought you said that you couldn’t see?”


“I can’t. I just know you way too well. Now kiss me, and then show me this surprise of yours.” He planted a tender kiss on her supple lips and took her by the hand into her room.


Draco closed the door behind him and removed the blindfold from her head; she winced as some of her more unruly strands of hair had somehow managed to entwine themselves into the knot in the blindfold. When Hermione had finally dislodged all of her hair, she took a deep breath as she beheld her beautifully bedecked boudoir. She was unmade by this gesture of deep affection and tears threatened to spring from her eyes at any moment. She opened her mouth, but found that there were no words, which could adequately express her emotions.


Instead of speaking, she flung herself into his puissant arms. Those arms lifted her slight frame easily and she was unaware of the fluid motion of Draco’s legs that carried the two of them to the bed. He laid her down among the rose petals with great care, for his dulcet paramour seemed as fragile as a china doll in his arms.


After a satisfying interlude between the sheets the couple fell into a light doze, still locked together in perfect bliss. After a short amount of time Hermione awoke to find Draco sleeping with an immense smile on his handsome face. She slipped from the comfort of the warm bed and onto the floor of the cold room and knelt down to build up the dwindling fire. She would not wake him until it was closer to dinner, he’d not managed to get the proper amount of sleep the pervious night, as he had been worried about her, even a short nap would help to refresh him.


Hermione dressed for dinner before she roused Draco from his slumber. She was making her way to dinner by the time he’d adequately outfitted himself properly for a meal. He swaggered to the Great Hall he had every intention of delaying the meal as long as he could, it was typical of the behavior expected of him as a Malfoy.


He could not give up the ruse or his father would come down on him with such force that would be enough to finally break his spirit and force his attrition to the ways of that evil man. Draco could not, would not allow that to happen. Unconditional love was far too wonderful a thing to give up on without a serious fight.


He knew that the day he would have to tell his father about the way he’d chosen to live his life was fast approaching. He also knew that he was ill prepared to face the wrath of his father when that day came. It was fortunate that in Hermione he had the strongest study partner to assist him in making the necessary fortifications to his abilities.


Draco’s entrance into the Hall was perfectly time to have the desired effect; all of those assemble griped about how his tardiness have delayed their supping long enough. He moved gracefully to the Slytherin table where he was given the typically cool reception he received whenever he pulled this little stunt. He knew that this was just for show and within a few moments his housemates were once again talking freely to him as though nothing had happened.


The next day, Christmas Eve passed uneventfully for the Head-boy and girl. Both of them had elected to devote the entire day to finishing the Holiday work assigned them by their teachers, that way the evening would be free for whatever they wished to fill it with. It was an ingenious plan others could not see interactions that had not taken place. Now if only they could stick to it.


Hermione walked up to Draco in the library and slipped him a note: ‘Your place or mine?’


He responded by saying, “Granger, I don’t know how Muggles operate, but civilized witches and wizards do not drop trash into the laps of others. That will all come back to blood, so I can’t expect you to be civil, can I?” His written reply was not at all harsh: ‘Mine baby.’


She seemed a bit too hurt by his demeaning tone. Hermione was so used to his insults that she had never allowed her poker face to waver when she heard them; even since they’d been a couple. He tried not to think on it, he had a lot of work to do. “Now if you would kindly dispose of this litter in the proper receptacle we can be on with our respective work. Can you do that?” he asked in an acid tone. She took the paper from his hand roughly, without a word she was gone.


Draco marched accusingly toward the form of Hermione as she sat writing feverishly in the nearly empty Great Hall. “Granger how could you leave such a revolting mess in the common room? You have absolutely no respect for shared space. Now I know why the Gryffindors were so happy to see you named Head-girl, they did not want their belongings destroyed by that mangy pile of fur that passes as a tame pet.”


He was surprised to see that her eyes did not waver in the slightest at his unforgivable taunting, nor did her posture change in the slightest, she was an expert at concealing her feelings. This made her that much more attractive to the blond figure who stood before her. He dropped a note into her lap: ‘Your place or mine?’


“Shouldn’t you be under a bridge somewhere eating billy-goats?” Her verbal reply was full of cold contempt, the written genuine affection: ‘Mine, my beloved Dragon’.


He walked away with his back stiff and a malignant smile upon those masterfully sculpted lips. This had been too easy. Now all he had to do was retire to the dungeons and wait to see if his accomplice had fared as well as he had. He was a bit disturbed to see Hermione’s form languishing as she sat neatly behind one of the tables in the seldom-used dungeon. “Did something go wrong?”


“Not at all, I was just practicing her facial expressions and moods. One never knows what might happen…”


“True. An excellent idea.” He then added in a low voice, “We should assume the identity of our designated persons until the potions wear off.” The head that bore an amazing similarity to Hermione’s nodded its agreement. “Meet me back here after supper and I will give you the proper amount of doses required for the evening.” Again the nod. In the next ten minutes their respective potions wore off and the two shadowy figures went skulking into the depths of the castle to reappear only after dinner.


When Hermione entered Draco’s room all was as it should be, complete with what may or may not have been the real Draco. He pulled the beautiful young woman to him and without words the two of them embarked on a journey of sensual delights.


At the same a blonde wizard entered Hermione’s room to find her reading, of course. She’d never been one to waste so much as a second of viable study time. He beamed at his studious beloved. His beloved, this had a nice way of sounding to his ear. “Hello Honey.”


She looked up at him with a face he couldn’t place and said, “You tried that one already, I’m not sticky, Dragon.”


“I know…I just thought…” he said uncomfortably.


“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a nickname.” She pulled her lover to her and from that moment until dawn neither of them spoke a word. They were too distracted by the erotic pleasures of the flesh that they were experiencing.