Lust, War and... Love?

My thanks to Margaritama for her great beta work on this chapter!

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Hermione peeked onto her charmed parchment, hidden under a sheet with intricate Arithmancy formulas. Professor Vector was reviewing the part on numerical correlations of the zodiac constellations, which Hermione already knew by heart. She was sitting alone today.

Padma preferred to sit across the classroom, leaving Hermione by herself at the desk. Thanks to Lavender Brown’s verbal incontinence, the rumours of Nott’s snogging the Gryffindor Prefect spread far and wide. Because of that, Padma had been giving her the cold shoulder, lately. Hermione ignored the gossip, instead appreciating the extra space in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy classes.

HG,
Do you think V. matches her hair colour to her robes? Will we see her nose purple, as well?
DM

Hermione glanced at the teacher and suppressed a chuckle. Draco was right: Vector’s dark hair bore a purplish tint, which, she assumed, was meant to complement her deep purple robes. It wasn’t the first time. The other day the professor’s tight curls were decidedly a greenish hue, fully in accordance with her early St. Patrick’s Day-style green outfit.

DM,
If you spend the whole class studying V’s dress style, I’m not fixing your Arithmancy homework, ok?
HG

Draco used his forearm to shield his parchments from Nott. It was more of a precaution than necessity, since Theo was completely oblivious. His forlorn gaze was firmly focused on Padma’s shining black braid, several desks away. A small smile crossed Draco’s lips as he read Hermione’s reply.

HG,
If you fix my Arithmancy, you choose the sex position next time. If you also do my Transfiguration essay, you’ll pick positions for two dates, in row. BTW, I’m working on your DADA essay now.
DM

Hermione’s cheeks were flushing hotly, as she read the response. Merlin, there was no way to study with Malfoy sending these wicked little missives to her. Not to be outdone, Hermione, after a brief deliberation, shot off her answer.

DM,
If you pay attention in class the whole day today, I’ll give you a treat in the Prefect’s bathroom tonight.
HG
P.S. Stop working on my DADA essay – I finished it yesterday!

The Prefect’s bathroom? Draco could hardly believe his eyes.

He shot a quick look at Nott to make sure that the bloke didn’t peep onto his parchments. Thank Merlin, the love-struck Theo looked as if Padma had fed Amortentia to him. Draco drew a deep breath and re-read his enchanted parchment. The vision of a nude Hermione Granger immersed in that magnificent marble pool made his member stir in his trousers.

His sexy, gorgeous girl proposed it!

Draco glanced at Theo again and wondered if the dolt ever thought of cloistering with his beloved Padma in the Prefect’s bathroom. The Ravenclaw prefect would forgive him any incidental snogs after that.

Giddy from her own audacity, Hermione peeked over her shoulder, and instantly met Draco’s gaze. His eager expression made her stomach flip-flop. The same second she noticed a new reply from him.

HG,
You render me speechless when I think of you in the marble pool. Hope Moaning Myrtle won’t pop out of the taps there.

Kissing you all over,
DM

P.S. I read your DADA draft – it’s lame. No offence, but you can’t hand it to Snape in that condition.

Hermione held her breath. By inviting him to share her bath, she was now daring to show something of herself that no one knew about. She never let even Moaning Myrtle catch her. It didn’t matter that Professor Vector was a mere few feet away from her desk – the teacher could very well be a few light years away from the planet Earth. The entire Arithmancy class was now far removed from Hermione’s mind.

For some sinful reason she now wished Draco to partake in her secret pleasure. Yes, she read about such things in The Magical Joys of Kama Sutra, but to do it in reality . . . oh, Merlin. Her head was swimming and her underwear was slightly damping. Hermione wanted to be in Malfoy’s arms right now. She shook her head, collected herself and sent off her response.

DM,
Do whatever you want with my DADA essay. I can barely think when you talk about kissing. I want to kiss you too.
HG

The bell rang but Draco failed to hear it. His stare was fixed on the parchment that hid the enchanted note underneath it. Nothing could be sweeter that this, “I want to kiss you too.” Not Weasel, not Potter, not Zabini or Nott, but him, Draco Malfoy! She wanted to kiss him!

When he glanced up, everyone had left the classroom, except Hermione. She dawdled at her desk, supposedly rearranging her books and parchments in her bag. Her amber eyes locked with Draco’s, and he quickly pointed his wand at the door. It closed softly.

A look of worry came over Hermione’s face, but he didn’t let it linger for long. In a second, Draco was by her side, his hands firmly in her brown curls. He saw her features relax slightly, and her lips part, as their bodies pressed together.

“Draco, not here . . .”

“Yes, here. Only a minute,” he breathed back and leaned onto her face. “You’re mine!”

It was bliss, and it was pure insanity – kissing in a classroom during a short break.

Hermione’s heart pounded madly, as she surrendered to Draco’s earnest lips. She gripped his shoulders and inhaled his scent. A little more, and he could take her right here, on the desk. She dreaded it and she craved it at, the same time.

They broke their kiss off, breathing heavily. She tilted her head away from him, as if warding off the next kiss. His dark stare was fixed on her face. Draco gently traced her jaw line, then her lips, with his finger. Hermione looked at him from under half-closed lids. He was so different this time. He acted as if she belonged to him, and she could sense his deep adoration, which made her want to answer in kind.

She’d do it later, in the Prefect’s bathroom.

“Draco, we’d better go,” Hermione whispered. “Before someone comes in.”

“Right, you leave first.” Draco turned abruptly and walked to his desk. His parchments were still piled. “Here. Your DADA homework.”

“Thanks.” Still in a daze, Hermione took the proffered parchment and hurried to the door.

******
Draco couldn’t wait for the day to end. After dinner he hid in the Room of the Requirement but couldn’t concentrate on The Vanishing Cabinet. He did not want to go to the Slytherin Common Room or library, because Pansy had an annoying habit of lurking in nearly every public area where he went. She did not exactly impose herself on him, but she often was in the vicinity, no matter how indifferently he treated her.

The Vanishing Cabinet was mending slowly but steadily. Draco put together the side and back panels, and had already affixed the top and bottom parts. There was still a ragged hole in the back, which he was going to take care of later. Smaller fissures were still visible in the side panels, but all glaring cracks were neatly sealed.

Draco surveyed his work; it was only a matter of time before he finished repairing the cabinet. He could spare a little break and daydream about lounging with Hermione, in the marble pool. Their dates over the past two weeks, since the day of the Quidditch match, were heavenly. In fact, they had more than just dates. Their enchanted parchments, their studies together in the remotest corners of the castle, their quick exchange of glances in public . . .

Shaking his head, Draco opened his bag to tuck in his notes, and watched his mother’s latest letter fall out. Absentmindedly, he picked it up and re-read the top page.

. . . Please, use all caution and do not force your actions, my darling. I keep hearing horror stories of more Mudblood killings and kidnappings, while the Ministry sits idly by. There are rumours that with such an influence permeating our world, things are bound to change at Hogwarts, especially the school authorities. There’s a chance that your problem might take care of itself. You need to be very prudent in your friendships and liaisons now, since it would all be accounted for . . .

Draco knew what Mum meant. There were many rumours that Dumbledore might be ousted, especially after the Katie Bell incident. The Dark Lord’s minions were, basically, everywhere, including the Ministry. Of course, Mum desperately wished that the removal of the Headmaster would automatically relieve Draco of his horrendous task to kill him, but he strongly doubted such a possibility. Judging by Aunt Bella’s menacing messages, neither she, nor the Dark Lord was likely to let him off the hook. Draco had to get it done and put it past him, no matter how much he dreaded the task.

The letter reminded Draco of another matter that he needed to figure out, somehow – the position of Hermione Granger in the whole scheme of things. If Dumbledore and his followers were to be thrown out or killed, she would certainly be in a grave peril. Especially, given her tendency to stand up for bloody Potter and jump in the fray without any regard for her own safety. Her self-preservation instincts were nil.

Thank Merlin, Draco thought congratulating himself, that Weasel wasn’t an issue, anymore. The best thing would be to hide Hermione from everyone’s sight, and convince her to remain that way. Was there a way to drive a wedge between her and Potty?

Draco glanced at his watch and quickly stuffed his belongings in the bag. Everything was quiet outside. He slid through the door and dismissed the little girl who obediently stood sentry. Draco waited for the Polyjuiced Goyle to go downstairs, and then cautiously stole along the darkened corridor.

As he neared McGonagall’s office, he stopped and listened. Then he ducked into a shadow, as the office door opened, and McGonagall emerged together with Slughorn.

“It would be most wonderful, Minerva, if we could indeed switch Third Year Potions into the Thursday afternoon slot, next term,” Slughorn spoke, while McGonagall cast locking spells on her office. “Friday morning doesn’t fit my schedule very well.”

“Certainly, Horace, it won’t be an issue,” McGonagall nodded. “I’m sure Professor Flitwick would prefer the morning period – he’s a early riser.”

“Filius had mentioned, the other day, it’s still a tradition to send a holiday treat to the Headmaster,“ Slughorn said loudly as he turned to walk alongside McGonagall to the stairs. “Some sweets or Ogden’s Special Reserve, I suppose.”

“Well, Dumbledore doesn’t exactly drink Firewhisky, Horace.”

“Oh, then a fine oak-matured mead would be in order,” Slughorn remarked as they both neared the stairs.

Draco waited for the teachers to disappear, before quickly walking down to the fourth floor. Slughorn was definitely an arse-licker of a professor, he thought grudgingly. I’ll see what you’d be singing when Dumbledore is done for, Professor Slug . . .

Draco walked past the statue of Boris the Bewildered and, cautiously, knocked on the coveted door. His heart pounded as it opened slightly. Trying to look inside, he could see a dark contour in the barely inch-wide gap. Suddenly, the door swung out, and a small hand closed on his sleeve and pulled him in.

The pool was already filled with hot water. Hermione’s flushed face was irresistibly enticing in the soft candlelight descending from an intricate chandelier. Her darkened gaze wandered from him to the placid expanse of the water at their feet. Draco hated the sight of her bulky school robes that hid the sweet secret of her body. He stepped closer to her, and she stared, slightly wavering and bewitching at the same time, at his face. Suddenly, he remembered the nosy mermaid picture on the wall, and looked at it. The creature seemed to be soundly asleep.

“I put a Sleeping Charm on the painting.” Hermione’s eyes followed the direction of his stare. “Moaning Myrtle won’t bother us either.”

“How?” Draco never thought that anyone could rein in the obnoxious ghost.

“I told her that Nearly Headless Nick wanted a date with her. Stargazing from the Astronomy Tower.” She traced her finger along the front closure of his robes. “He promised to keep her busy for a couple of hours, at least. I always ask him when I’m taking a bath here.”

“You’re a wicked little Gryffindor.” Draco nuzzled her soft cheek, while his fingers were undoing the buttons of her robes. “You smell so good – vanilla and something else.”

“It’s the peach and vanilla cream bubble foam from that tap.” Hermione pointed at one of the golden taps that had a dark red garnet and pearl jewel set in it.

“No, it’s more than that – only you have this scent,” he breathed, his hand already tugging her robes open.

Hermione smiled and moved away from him. He extended his arm to hold on to her but she quickly tossed her robes to the bench. In a moment, she divested herself of her underwear and threw a teasing glance at Draco. He stood enthralled, watching how she twisted her voluminous hair into a tight bun and secured it with a black hair clip. Stray curls lay on her smooth neck, and it fascinated him.

Splash.

The sound of her slipping into the pool brought him back to the very real dream unfolding before his eyes. Draco tore off his garments, leaving them in a heap on the white marble floor, and in a moment, he held her in his arms in the stinging hot water.

“Vanilla and peach?” Hermione asked him, the water all the way up to her collarbones and her hand already on the faucet.

“Whatever.” He cast a charm and a wide ledge extended underwater along the opposite side of the deep pool. He settled in and pulled Hermione next to him. She reclined against his side, the water barely covering her breasts. The fragrant foam trickled slowly from the golden tap and the bubbles spread in circular waves.

The extremely warm water made Hermione feel languid and a little drowsy. She took in his slightly pink face, the perspiration already glistening on his cheekbones and forehead. Draco’s hands slid up to her breasts.

“Wait.” She shifted away, muttering a cushioning charm so she could recline against the marble edge. The pearly foam was already licking at her breasts, and his gaze was fixed on her bosom. “Let me show you something.”

His eyes questioned her, and she smiled at him, feeling very daring and bold. She reached for her wand on the edge of the pool.

Translucidus, she whispered.

The foam around them cleared, allowing them to see their bodies in the transparent water. Hermione saw his ready member and it made her nether part throb slightly in the heat of the pool. She parted her thighs and slid her fingers in to open her folds.

Another spell. Bullae Subigitatio.

A small underwater fountain of effervescent crystal-like bubbles burst between her legs, tickling her aroused pussy, innervating her swelling clit, and then spreading over the curve of her lower abdomen. The tingling sensations made her rock her hips and arch her head back. She turned her head and met his startled stare.

Breathing heavily, Hermione pointed her wand at him and muttered the same incantations again. The naughty bubbles crawled around his balls, assaulted his cock and travelled up his stomach, making him groan. He grabbed her with his arm, pushing her face against his chest and snatched her wand.

Morsus Aqua, she heard him growl.

Suddenly, invisible, and strangely fluid, jaws nipped her between her legs, and she threw them wide open, plastering her stomach against his body. Her crotch was on fire, and she couldn’t tell whether it was from the phantom water beast or from his stone-hard cock rubbing against her tender parts. The mischievous bubbles spread all over their bodies underwater, making their skin tingle and prickle. Her arms braced around his shoulders, and his hands squeezed her backside, holding her pressed against his torso.

Suddenly his body slipped off the marble surface, and they plunked underwater. She thrashed around frantically, and Draco’s arms tightened around her. Amidst much splashing, he pulled her up to her feet on the floor of the pool. The water stopped teasing their bodies, and the vanilla peach-scented foam began closing in on them. Hermione spat the water and foam out, and Draco rolled with laughter.

“How’s the ‘jaws of water’?” he asked with an obvious mirth in his voice. “You didn’t know that one, yet? C’mon, who’d ever think that you learned these naughty things, as well?”

“I only read about the bubbles in a book.” Oddly, Hermione giggled. The whole adventure made her feel very light-headed and wanton. “I thought you’d like them. But the ‘jaws of water’?”

“Wanked plenty that way at home, Hermione. You should’ve seen our main bathroom – three times bigger than this one.”

“Oh, you did it before too?” Her voice dipped a bit.

“With you it’s so much better.” His lips and tongue attacked her mouth and she melted in his kiss. The fluffy foam licked at their shoulders, and it felt cool on her inflamed skin. Suddenly Hermione realised that the jewel-encrusted tap wasn’t pouring the scented bubbles anymore. Draco led her to the ledge and had her sit on it, her back cushioned by the charm.

Hermione took in his sweaty features, the raw hunger for her in his stare, his wet, reddened chest. The sight of him was incredibly arousing to her, and she swayed her torso when he moved in between her thighs. His hands steadied her waist underwater, as she threw her legs around him, hugging his buttocks. Draco fumbled a little, his hard cock poking at her swollen folds. She reached for it with her hand to lead him in, and he pushed into her.

Then he bent his head low to ravish her breasts, and his lips felt like fire on her nipples.
Hermione gripped his blond head, aching from the sensation of him filling and stretching her feverish insides. Their eyes locked, as he raised his head and began thrusting into her, slowly and steadily. Too slow , Hermione was about to whimper to him, but his tempo increased and she let herself sink into the daze of their passion. She could feel herself unravel, and she dug her fingernails in his back because her hands kept slipping on his wet skin.

They were both hot and rough, the water mixed with the bubble foam splashed wildly around them. Their minds dissolved in the heavy cloud of fragrance and lust.

When Hermione came back to her senses, his face was buried in the crook of her neck, and his body was heavy against hers on the ledge. She kissed his wet hair tenderly. He stirred in her arms, then lifted his head and searched the edges of the pool with his eyes.

“Your wand?” she asked and began looking for hers, too.

“Yeah,” Draco mumbled. He found the energy to get off the ledge and reach for his wand, muttering a low Aquamenti. A cool stream poured on his face and shoulders. Only now Hermione realized how thirsty she was. He nodded for her to join him, and she slid off the ledge to stand next to him and drink the refreshing water.

They sat back on the ledge, languorous after their lovemaking. The pool water wasn’t hot anymore but it was still pleasantly warm. Draco pulled her into his lap, and she reclined against his chest, his arms wrapped around her abdomen. It was such bliss to sit together like this, to be secure in his embrace. Hermione’s heart was overflowing with the fuzzy warmth, which for her was now connected with this blond boy, Draco Malfoy. She snuggled against him, and he kissed her forehead softly.

Nothing mattered now – only the two of them together.

Draco rested his cheek against Hermione’s wet hair and breathed her scent in. The bathroom became their little private world, far away from the madness of the life outside.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He heard her dreamy whisper. A great desire to protect her and shelter her from every danger surged inside him. Draco hugged her closer and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes now looking into his face.

“I think Parkinson is spying on me,” Hermione spoke. “I wanted to go here straight from the library, but I noticed her exiting, literally on my heels. I went to the Gryffindor Common Room, instead.”

Draco didn’t like the news. Pansy was at it again, and he knew he had to placate his fiancée with a pretend date to get her off their backs, for a while. Merlin’s bloody pants, why did his parents have to pick her, of all the Pureblood girls out there?

“I’ll deal with her,” he said, rubbing Hermione’s side. “Tell her some tale to make her back off.”

“Can’t you just break off the engagement, officially? You don’t seem to be happy with it anyway, Draco.”

“It could be our cover, too, remember that, Hermione.” Her face didn’t look very pleased, and he quickly added, “I want you to be with me, in the end.”

After all this stuff with Dumbledore and The Vanishing Cabinet gets resolved.

“If we still want to be together after we take the antidote,” she mused, tracing her finger in circles on his chest. “I-I’m a little afraid of that.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That we might start resenting each other after taking the counter-potion. It’s a common effect after a love potion stops working.”

“After a junk love potion from WWW. Heorte Lustbaere is different stuff, Hermione.” Draco studied her features again. Merlin, how good was it that he fixed up that killer lust potion. Snape must be green with chronic envy now.

“Still, we’ll have to deal with a lot of things, Draco.” Her eyes were now fixed on his Dark Mark, and he noticed it.

Something clicked in his brain. Draco understood it very clearly now. If he accomplished the missions the Dark Lord tasked him, no matter how horrific, he’d gain his own secure position in Lord Voldemort’s service. His security would mean a safe shelter for Hermione, too.

“I’ll make sure you’ll be all right, Hermione.” His finger touched a stray lock on her neck. “No matter how powerful You-Know-Who thinks he is, he can’t possibly know everything. I’ll find a secure place for you, Hermione.”

“Why do you think You-Know-Who is going to win?” Hermione straightened up in his lap. “Not if we fight him!”

“You don’t know what’s going on outside Hogwarts. His people are everywhere, even in the Ministry!”

“And so is the resistance, Draco!”

“Do you really need to get mixed up in all of it? Let others fight and we’ll see who wins.” Draco didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

“It’s our duty to defend our liberties and freedom.” Hermione was not relenting. “We need to support Harry – he’s The Chosen One!”

“I doubt The Chosen One is very keen on fighting You-Know-Who,” Draco smirked. “He’s ogling Ginny Weasley all the time! So much for your girl-obsessed, brave warrior friends.”

Hermione shifted away but Draco held her firm. She was getting tearful, and he knew that he had to tread carefully now.

“Forget it, Hermione. You’re mine and I love the time I spend with you,” he said huskily. “You’re so heavenly and beautiful.”

“Oh, Draco, but you simply can’t understand.” Still, she relaxed in his embrace, and it was good.

“On the contrary, I understand very well. Don’t I know how bitchy life can be? We’ve got all sorts of things that we don’t want, and then you have to weasel your way through all it.” He paused. Her expression showed a clear sympathy. “I’ll make sure you are safe and well, no matter what, and we will have our love to the fullest. Whatever my family obligations are, I will fulfil them, but I will take good care of you, as well.”

“Your family obligations? You mean your service as a Death Eater?”

“I mean the Malfoy House creed. I’ll marry a Pureblood witch – whoever my folks choose for me. Not Pansy, of course. I’ll break up with her when it’s safe to do. Have the proper family magic union done and sire the heir to make sure the Malfoy line continues on. But I’ll have you too – I’ll provide for you. You won’t even have to work, Hermione. You’ll have a nice house and live in luxury. You mean so much to me, Hermione.”

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. Did he really mean it? That he considered her no more than just a mistress?

“I- I’m sorry, Draco,” her voice shook from shock. “I don’t want to be a kept woman. Never!” She jerked from his embrace and in a moment she was out of the pool, drying herself with a big fluffy towel.

“You mean you want me to marry you?” Draco was plain astounded. “It’s impossible.” Merlin, any average witch would be only happy to accept his generous proposition.

It isn’t his fault that Hermione wasn’t a Pureblood, right?

“No, I’m certainly not marrying a Pureblood enslaved to his family magic code!” Her tone was sour.

“Did you know that the damned Weasley curse befell our family?” Draco was now out of the pool too. He stood in front of Hermione, the water dripping down his long legs.

“Oh, I know that.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Only one child in every Malfoy generation.”

“And I can’t afford for my son to be a squib! If I marry a Muggleborn, I’d run a high chance of a non-wizard heir and disgrace to the House!”

Hermione turned away from Draco and started dressing. Her hands were trembling, and all she wanted was to get out of the Prefect’s bathroom, as soon as possible.

“It’s okay to be a lover of a high-born wizard, Hermione.” Draco was trying to appease her. “Many witches would envy your connection to the Malfoy name.”

“Of course, with all those arranged Pureblood marriages,” she answered sardonically. “Getting trapped with a spouse chosen, not by you, but by your parents, and then sleeping with others right, left and centre. How honourable.”

“I promise you’ll be my only true one, Hermione.” He came up behind her and put his hands on his shoulders. “I’m not going to have a harem, like old Nott.”

Hermione finished buttoning up her robe and whipped around. “So, Nott’s father has a harem and everyone is all right with that?”

“You didn’t know that?” Draco attempted to delay her exit. “The Nott’s code of magic allows them to have children only in a legitimate marriage to a Pureblood. The old man had Theo with his late wife, but he also kept several mistresses. A place to live for each of them – gifts, clothes, everything they could possibly want. One of his women got pregnant and claimed that old Nott was the father. He threw her out right away because he knew she couldn’t have one with him. Funny, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it’s funny.” Hermione headed to the door. “I despise it, actually.”

The door slammed shut. Draco kicked the heap of his clothes on the floor. Was there a way to make a Muggleborn understand the Pureblood wizarding life? He hadn’t expected her at all to get so riled up over his offer of protection. He was sincere with her, and she repaid him with anger. And he hadn’t even told her that he’d have to work it all out on top of his being a Death Eater in Lord Voldermort’s service.

Did he have to take the Muggle Studies class to understand his girl’s quirks? He sank on the bench and clenched his head. What a pain in the arse his life was.

Blinded by her tears, Hermione was almost running down the dark and empty corridors. How could she delude herself into thinking that Malfoy considered her as his equal? That he really loved her?

She halted halfway in the seventh floor corridor because she couldn’t enter her dorm in her current teary state. Hermione hid in a shadow behind a pillar. She balled her fist and stuffed it into her mouth to stifle the sounds of her crying.

Sobs shook her body as she huddled on the floor against the cold wall in the darkness.
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Author Note:
Translations of the incantations that I invented in this chapter:
Translucidus – transparent
Bullae – bubble; Subigitatio – erotic fondling
Morsus - jaws; Aqua – water.

Wildflower4evr created two wonderful posters for Lust, War and... Love?, which I posted on my LJ: http://linkar123.livejournal.com/3845.html#cutid1