Savior

The lighting in the room was dim, the curtains drawn. The seat beneath her was cold and hard, the desk before her empty and desolate. A voice rang out over the room. “Turn to page 394!”

Hermione’s head snapped up at the voice of one of her favorite and yet least favorite teachers. Professor Snape had been grueling her class fort the past month trying to get them ready for N.E.W.T.S. Hermione didn’t really see the point because if they were to pass the N.E.W.T.S at all, then they would have to do more hands-on work. Unfortunately, Professor Snape seemed to be of a similar mind as that of a stone. However, brilliant as he was at Potions, the skill did not transfer well to the Dark Arts. Well, ‘Defense 0f’ that is.

“Excuse me, sir, but... where’s Professor Lupin?” Harry, genuinely worried and curious was always the first to ask questions but never really one to get the answers. . .or wait for them for that matter.

“That's not really your concern, is it, Potter? Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Page 394.” Snape’s cold demeanor was so stoic, so composed, and yet. . .there was something that he was hiding. . .whatever that was.

Hermione’s mind wandered as she thought about her Ancient Runes class. There was something about runes that just made Hermione happy. They held so much knowledge just waiting to be unlocked. Ron’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Werewolves?” He was genuinely confused. Hermione felt she had to say something.

“But, sir, we’ve only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We’re not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks—“

“Quiet!” As usual, Snape’s voice was cold and irritated. Hermione huffed.

The rest of class passed without incident. Well, maybe one incident of Malfoy being the customary arse that he always was.

~*~

Later that evening as Hermione was walking back to Gryffindor Tower, her nose buried in a book as always, she rounded a corner and ran straight into the chest of someone very rigid and very tall. This of course knocked her straight to the floor, her book flying off, her bad spilling all over the floor, and worst of all, causing her to squeal rather indelicately as she tumbled to the ground. She landed with a distinct ‘plumk’ on her bottom, her legs sprawling, her hands automatically going back to stable herself. Before she knew what was really happening, she heard a rather masculine and tenor voice speak. “I’m sorry. Do you need some help?”

Without looking up, she spoke, “Oh, yes, thank you. I’m terribly sorry about that. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No worries. Please, let me help.” The man, whoever he was, offered his hand to her and she gratefully accepted it. However, as she took his hand and began to stand, she tripped and ended up pulling the both of them back down to the ground. Hermione unfortunately squealed again, and the man uttered a rather uncouth oath as he landed atop her. A moment passed and the man lifted his head slightly to speak. “I’m so sorry. I should have better balance. One would think all those quidditch practices would have paid off by now.”

Hermione froze. “You play quidditch?” An overwhelming scent took over her senses as she breathed in his cologne. It was somehow familiar.

“Yes. Slytherin Seeker. What about you? Do you play?” Hermione’s mind locked. Her body tightened, her muscles tensing at the close proximity. He lifted his head more. “Are you alright?” His steely eyes met her golden orbs. She panicked.

Shoving him off, she grappled to find her wand. It wasn’t in her robes. Then she remembered it was in her bag. He stood between the bag and her. Suddenly she realized she was more terrified now than she had ever been. She looked up from her kneeling position on the floor. “What do you want Malfoy?” Her voice was just as unyielding as his eyes.

When she saw his face, there was no mask in place, no façade to look beneath. It was just Draco Malfoy. However, as soon as he realized who he was helping, the mask came back, his calm demeanor shattering in seconds. “Granger. What are you doing wandering the corridors at night? And without your wand? I would have thought you knew better than that. Pity.” He began to saunter around her, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Why would I need my wand now, Malfoy? It’s not like you’re going to do anything. Or that you even capable of doing anything.” The last part was muttered just under her breath, but he heard it. He froze mid-step. She stood to walk over to her bag and leave, but his rigid body slammed into hers, driving her back towards the wall.

“You think I won’t do anything? You think I can’t do anything? Think again!” He pressed his body harder against her, crushing her to the wall. She gasped at his strength, her lungs burning as his ribcage pressed against her own. His hands braced against the wall, he leaned his head in farther, forcing her to turn away. “You think you know everything don’t you? I bet there are some things you know absolutely nothing about!”

His breath was hot on her face, his rage pouring off him in waves. “And I bet you’d just love to teach me now wouldn’t you!?” She tried to shove him away, pressing her hands against his shoulders, trying to gain any leverage she could just to get away, but to no avail. “I would rather die than be taught how to do anything by you!” She turned her eyes to his, his passion and hatred shown like beacons aiming straight at the very heart of her being. Her own fury mounted as he pressed forward even farther.

“Then I guess you’ll just be left to whither and die for all you’re worth. Teaching you isn’t even worth a rat’s time.” He leaned in as far as their proximity would allow, pressing his cheek to hers, his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Filthy Mudblood.”

Without so much as another word, he pushed away from her and sauntered down the hall and out of sight. Hermione sunk to the floor, her body shaking with pain and rage. There was nothing she wanted more than to let her fist collide with that snarky face of his. Her hands were trembling as she brought them to her knees, rubbing hard to bring them back to life.

And there she sat, silently, achingly, statuesquely, her tears falling blindly on the deaf ears of a tacit hall.

~*~

The Yule Ball had been going wonderfully. Hermione’s hair was actually behaving, and Viktor had been an absolute dream to her the entire evening. The entire event had been such a complete whirl that she was dizzy from all the spinning. Viktor had rushed off to talk with his schoolmates and Hermione was finally left with a moment to herself. She decided it was high time for a bathroom break and stood from her rather uncomfortable position on the armchair to begin the long walk to the loo. Unfortunately, just as she rounded the last corner to said loo, she ran smack dab into the extremely muscled chest of none other than Draco-sodding-Malfoy.

“Watch where you’re going!” She had bumped her nose into his chest bone and was now rubbing it fiercely to sooth the growing pain. She glared at him pointedly from behind her hand as he leered at her from his leaning perch on the wall.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Granger, out for an evening stroll down the dark and dank halls of the Hogwarts Castle. How…what’s the word… boring.” His drawling voice made her skin crawl as he smirked at her disheveled state.

“Well, if it isn’t MR. Malfoy, out for an evening stalk down in the dark and dank halls of the Hogwarts Castle. How very…what’s the word…common. Sod off Malfoy.” She made a move to pass him, but he was quicker. Before she could get around him, he had maneuvered her towards the wall, his hands braced on either side of her head, trapping her. He kept his distance, not even his clothing touching her, as he glared into her eyes.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes and waited patiently for his tantrum to be over. “If you think that insulting me is going me make me run home to my mother and cry, then you better think again! I’m not the same girl I was two years ago! Go ahead! Call me names, insult my blood, make fun of my friends! Nothing you say or do will hurt me as much as it hurt when he—“ She stopped. She hadn’t told anyone about that. Not even her parents. Now, after all this time, she’d finally lost it and let it come out…to the one person she swore she would never share anything more than hatred with.

She felt the tears growing, the pain in the pit of her stomach returning, as the memories of that single, horrible night washed over her. Unable to contain it anymore, she sank to the floor, Malfoy standing over her, a look of utter bewilderment plastered on his features. The tears fell freely now, drowning her hands and turning her guard to dust. Before she knew what she was doing she was spilling her story, the words flowing from her like water from a faucet.

“I was walking home from a pub in London. I had been out with some friends and we were having a great time,” she laughed a hollow laugh. “My mom had called and asked me if I needed a ride just before I’d left, but I told her I’d be fine. It was just after 9, how bad could it be if I walked? Anyway, I was walking down the street, and it was pretty dark, but everything seemed to be fine. Then I heard feet behind me and I got scared. I looked back, but there was no one there. I couldn’t just turn around and go back to the pub, I was already half way home, but I was scared!” Her voice was shaking as she spoke, the words coming out broken, as if they were pieces of shattered glass falling on a marble floor. “I felt someone grab me, spin me around, cover my mouth with something. I couldn’t move, I could hardly breathe! I was so scared!” She broke down, the tears overwhelming her as she cradled her head in her hands.

She was scared even now of that night, terrified of his cruel, demanding words that wouldn’t end. Breathing deeply and rubbing her neck with her hands, she stared up at the ceiling. Her head felt heavy, her mind numbing as the memories faded, her arms moving to rest on her knees, hands crossed, as the tears slowed. She’d forgotten there was someone else in the hall with her as the tears began to dry. Then she felt a hand in hers, their fingers intertwining palm to palm. She stared at the pair of hands, one tear-stained and sad; the other pale and delicate, but definitely masculine. Following the lines of the fingers to the wrist where the black sweater’s sleeve began, to the fore-arm to the masculine bicep to the broad shoulder, the elegant neck, the face. . .She screamed.

~*~

She was headed for the Room of Requirement for a D.A. meeting. It was late, and she hated being late. Especially since it was only the second meeting they’d had in the Room. The corridors were dark, the walls damp as she hurried through the deserted halls, searching for the door. It was never where you expected it to be, always moving and changing it’s mind about where you thought it should be. It frustrated Hermione to no end.

There was a noise behind her, not a distinct noise, but it was definitely there. She spun on her heel, hair whipping about her as she moved. There was no one there. Her eyes searched the abandoned hall, trying to find any difference that existed. There was none. Turning back, she began walking again, not as briskly or as loudly as before, but definitely walking again. It was silent for a moment, then she heard it again. Now she knew what it was. It was the definite sound of a boot-heel. If she heard correctly, a very expensive boot sold only in Diagon Alley at a very prestigious Wizard’s wardrobe shop. One either had to have major galleons or a very wealthy and amazingly gracious friend. There was only one person she knew of at Hogwarts that could possibly afford such expensive boots, and his name started with a D and ended with a Malfoy.

Stopping in her tracks, she waited. There was no sound, not even the scurry of a mouse or spider on the floor. The corridor was completely silent. There was no hurry she could wait. No doubt he was following her to find the location of the Room of Requirement for Professor Umbridge. HA! She’d be damned if she let him, of all people, find out where that room was!

“Malfoy, I know you’re there so you might as well just come out and show yourself!” She heard a small intake of breath. It could have been nothing if one hadn’t been listening very closely for that exact sound. She chuckled, something completely alien to her. “Malfoy, you are a pathetic excuse of a wizard, and an even more pathetic excuse of a stalker, so you might as well come out and spare yourself the humiliation of stumbling into a room full of wizards and witches who just so happen to hate your guts and getting yourself hexed into the next century.” There was the faint sound of a snicker behind her. She grinned devilishly.

“Well Granger, I never thought I’d see the day!” He came around her and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed casually across his chest.

“And what day might that be, Malfoy?” She crossed her own arms and huffed.

“The day that you would call out someone who is obviously armed,” he pulled out his wand from his pocket, “and not in a particularily good mood. What other day could I possibly mean?” His smile was fake.

“Oh, I don’t know. Could it possibly be the day that I would fall madly in love with you and forget all the years you tormented me and my friends trying to hide the fact that you were also insanely, madly in love with me as well, only hurting me to make your father and your Death Eater friends think you were pure of heart and intentions? Oh, Malfoy, no need to hide anymore! I’ll protect you!” She snickered much as he had not moments before. “Please. Like anything to that end will ever happen. Now go away!” She turned on her heel again and walked in the opposite direction. She would explain the evening to Harry in the morning. He could manage one D. A. meeting without her.

However, a hand on her wrist stopped her, freezing her in place as she tried to leave. “Oh, Granger, I would not have said that if I were you.” His fury was fuming off him in waves. She spun on him.

“What are you going to do Malfoy? Huh? We’re in Hogwarts! There is nothing you can do to me here! I’m safe! You can insult me, belittle me, torment me with as many cruel jokes you have up your sleeve, but as long as I’m in Hogwarts and under the protection of Dumbledore, there is NOTHING you can do that could possibly hurt me in any way! Now, if you please, get your dirty Death Eater hands OFF ME!” Her eyes held such anger and hate that Malfoy flinched. He flinched so much in fact that he let go of her hand, backing away two steps as he did so. For the first time in his life, Hermione Granger scared him.

Hermione’s anger subsided at the look of complete horror plastered to Malfoy’s face. For a moment she pitied him. She pitied his life, his childhood, his fate, and his idiotic and undying loyalty to a Lord that would never return to him anything more than heartbreak and misery. “Why do you do it?” Her voice cracked…he noticed…”Why do you hate us so much?” She was almost crying now. “What did we ever do to you that made you hate us so much?” A single tear fell down her cheek. Then it all came pouring out. “You put your trust in people who are evil and cruel, you cause some of the truly good people in this world some of the worst pain!” Her hands were clenching at her sides as she screamed at him. “I can’t believe that you’re as evil inside as you pretend to be! We’ve put up with your pranks and your spiteful words for years now! All you do is send more and more and more hate at us that it makes me sick! Every time I see you or talk to you, I feel like something vile crawled into my stomach and is slowly eating away at my innards, trying to burrow it’s way deeper and deeper into my soul! I never did anything to hurt you! Why are you so cruel?!” Her tears were falling in full force now, her voice trembling as she tried to contain the pain of years from spilling forward. “Why…” She held her head in her hands as she finally gave into the tears. There was a long silence as she stood there, sobbing quietly to herself, just wishing for some kind of comfort…from anyone…

“You don’t know…you don’t know how I…” Hermione looked up to see Malfoy just a foot from her, his arms crossed defensively across his chest. He looked lost for maybe the first time in his life. “You want to know why I was so cruel? You really want to know?” Hermione didn’t dare speak, she was too terrified of his silent rage. “Because if I ever dared to have a friend, a real friend who cared about me and cared about the things I cared about, I would be beaten. Not beaten in the muggle sense of the word. I mean beaten with curse after curse thrown at me. My life was not picturesque and perfect. I grew up alone and afraid of everything that I saw.” He took a step towards her, his arms falling to his sides as he moved. “You think you’ve seen cruelty based on some pranks I’ve pulled? You know nothing of cruelty—“

“And you know nothing of kindness! All you know how to do is hate! You just keep hating and hating everyone around you! You know nothing of love and forgiveness and happiness—“

“I was never given any to begin with! All those Slytherin girls who throw themselves at me just want my money, my status. None of them just want to spend an afternoon talking with me! Did anyone ever consider that all I ever wanted was someone to talk to, to love, to be a friend?! No! Everyone wants a piece of me! Everyone wants something from me! I’m sick of it!” He chuckled. “And it’s all because of a rant given by the gracious Hermione Granger. Hats off to you, Granger, you’ve broken me.” He turned to saunter away, but she couldn’t let it end that way.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. It was as if all the words had left her mouth and migrated to someone else’s brain. It was all she could say. “I’m so sorry.”

He’d stopped at her words. No one had ever said that to him. He turned to face her. She was still crying, the tears falling silently down her cheeks as she wept for herself, for her friends, and for someone who had been nothing but malicious and vindictive to her since the moment he first saw her. Walking back to her, he felt his hands moving to her shoulders, placing them there softly, as if asking her permission. She looked up into his eyes, her hands traveling up his chest to rest at the base of his neck. He pulled her in, his arms encircling her as she buried her face in his sweater.

They stood there for what felt like a lifetime before Hermione raised her head to look at Draco’s face. He looked down at her, his silver eyes now a stormy grey, his lips barely parted, his breath rushing over her cheek. “Can we—“

She was cut off by Malfoy’s soft lips pressing gently to hers, silencing any protestation she may have voiced. Before she knew what she was doing, her hands had delved into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him in closer, deepening the kiss. His hands splayed over her back, his fingers digging into her skin. Fire sparked across her flesh as her supple body pressed against the hard planes of his chest. It felt as if an unquenchable thirst burst through her as their movements became more fervent and excited with every passing moment. Before she knew what was happening, his lips had left hers, his eyes staring down into hers as realization dawned on his features. A horror came over him, his mind putting the pieces together as he backed away. Hermione’s own brain had been engulfed with a fear she hadn’t felt since the summer before fourth year, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of what had just transpired.

“Don’t you ever tell anyone about this!” Malfoy’s rage overwhelmed her as his voice rose, his temper flaring. He wiped his hand over his mouth, a look of disgust coming over his face. “How dare you?! Don’t you ever touch me again! Ever!” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white from the anger coursing through his veins.

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how she felt or why she had lost her senses for that brief moment in time, but she felt she had to do something…she just didn’t know what. She looked into his eyes and what she found there turned her blood to fire. Anger so powerful overwhelmed her and she found herself unleashing her fury before she could do anything to quell it. “Oh you have nothing to worry about Malfoy. I wouldn’t tell anyone about this if my life depended on it. But let’s not forget something, I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me! The lips doing all the action were yours!!! Hell, maybe I should tell people about it! Might take you down a notch or two! Bring you down from that high pedestal of yours! Maybe then, all those girls in Slytherin won’t want to touch you anymore! Maybe then, you might get that peace and quiet you want so fucking much! I guess you want it so much that you just had to dive in the mud to get it!”

There was a silence then that was so deafening that Hermione felt crushed by it. Neither of them said anything as her words took effect. Malfoy took a deep breath, his chest shuddering heavily. Looking her in the eye, his hatred and rage overflowing, he spoke. “At least you finally accept your place, Mudblood.”

Without further word, he turned on his heel and left, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the hall as he turned his back on Hermione, leaving her behind in the gloom of the night.

~*~

Hermione had just come from potions, the smell of golgiar root still hanging around her, and was walking towards the portrait that led to Gryffindor Tower. It was late, as usual, but what was she to do when Snape like keeping his most prestigious student after class for extra points? When she reached the portrait, she calmly and quietly said the password, waited silently as it swung open, stepped through it, took one look at the scene playing before her on the sofa before the fire, turned on her heel and walked straight back out again. Harry and Ginny had been in the process of starting something that Hermione knew Ron was scream about later if he found out. Then again, if he was already asleep, then there was a good chance that he would never find out…and quite possibly the reason why they were doing exactly what they were doing in the commonroom in the middle of the night when anyone could walk in on them…only no one would. Everyone was asleep by now…and now Hermione had nowhere left to go to sleep…

She decided it would be best if she went back to the library, picked out a desk, and slept there. As uncomfortable as that would be, it would be twenty times better than having to embarrass Harry and Ginny by announcing her presence in the room as they disentangled themselves from whatever awkward position they were in. She laughed at the thought of sitting down with Harry in the morning for breakfast, looking at him knowingly, giggling, then looking away and ignoring him for the duration of the meal.

Just as she came around the corner just before the library, she heard something. She froze, waiting to hear it again. Then a rustling came from the alcove directly to her right. Moving slowly, she pulled out her wand, waiting for the inevitable pounce that would come from the alcove. She was cautious up until the point when she was not a hairs breath away from the darkness. Then, as if on cue, a rumpled young 5th year girl stumbled out of the alcove, her clothing barely on as she scurried down the hall, her sobs sounding loudly against the stones. It took Hermione all of two seconds to realize there was only one person in this school that could do that to a girl with just one encounter.

“Come out, Malfoy.” She lowered her wand and stepped back further than she had when the young girl had come bursting out of the black. Seeing the girl had slightly prepared Hermione for the sight of Malfoy just after ‘alcove sex,’ but the vision before her was unlike any she’d ever seen.

Malfoy’s hair was disheveled, his eyes still stormy. His white school shirt was buttoned wrong, his belt still unbuckled, the top button left undone. His shirtsleeves were uncuffed, rolled up one time to give her a glimpse of his smooth, pale forearms. Her mind locked.

“Malfoy…” Her voice shook as she spoke, her eyes glued to his left arm. He followed her gaze; his eyes traveling slowly down his own body to find where her eyes rested. When they found the object of her fixation, he grabbed his rolled-up sleeve and pulled it down. It broke her spell and she searched his face for his eyes. They refused to meet hers. She tried again. “Malfoy…”

“What!? What do you want from me?!” His eyes held such ferocity, such an animalistic emotion, that Hermione stumbled backwards, her hand tightening around her wand. Malfoy’s own fists had turned sheet-white as he clenched them harder and harder. It seemed as if he would never relax them.

Hermione couldn’t believe this. Here he was, having sex in the middle of the hall, and HE was the one yelling at her. Fine. Two could play that game. “I just wanted to know what exactly you were doing fucking girls in the middle of the night out in the open where anyone could stumble upon you? Are you in the habit of sending girls off crying their brains out, or is that just an added Malfoy bonus?” She knew her words were cold, but so were his. It was time he got a taste of his own medicine.

For a few moments, he stood shell shocked, her words reverberating through his head as he waited for something, anything to happen. When he finally regained his tongue, even he couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. “Why, you wanna have a go?” As soon as he said it he knew he shouldn’t have. It was as if a light clicked on in his head that Hermione Granger was actually quite attractive, a fact that he had not wanted to know before. He noted that her hair had smoothed out of the summer, her hips had filled out, as well as another, higher area. Her lips were a dark pink, her neck like that of a swan’s, elegant and smooth. He blinked, the image refusing to leave his eyes. Rubbing his eyes, he realized that not only was he surprised at her raw beauty, he was aroused by it as well. Damn his teenage boy hormones. “Look Granger, how’s about this: I go my way, you go your way, I ignore you, you ignore me. How does that sound?” He held his hands out, not wanting a fight, especially not tonight.

Hermione blinked, her mind working to wrap her head around the fact that Draco Malfoy, heir and Prince of Slytherin had just blatantly invited her into the previously occupied alcove for sex. Now that she thought about it, it did have a kind of appeal. On one hand, she could sleep with him and then hold it over his head for the rest of his life, or she could not sleep with him and hold it over his head that he even asked. One choice was practical and a little manipulative, the other was far more impractical, but probably more pleasurable than anything she could think of. While thinking, she let her eyes travel down his body one last time. The hard planes of his chest, his broad shoulders, the narrowing of his hips, his perfectly chiseled thighs, all screaming at her to rip his shirt open and take him right then and there. Unfortunately for the growing ache in her abdomen, her practicality won out. “The next time you use a girl for something other than for a study partner, I’ll know, and I won’t be nice about it either.” She turned on her heal to leave, a plan to sleep in the Room of Requirement forming in her head as she walked, but his voice called her back.

“Why? Are you jealous?” Without warning, Hermione spun on him, her wand flying out of her bag, the tip pointed directly at his nose, fury burning in her eyes. Malfoy flinched, his eyes snapping shut, but didn’t move. All he could think about was third year when he’d gotten a fist in his face instead of the Killing Curse. Somehow now he thought he wasn’t going to be so lucky. When he opened his eyes, he didn’t find a wand-tip in his face, but an extremely furious and radiant Hermione Granger not an inch from his nose. He almost jumped back, the feeling was so strange, but something made him freeze. The intensity of her eyes as they bored into his lit a fire beneath his skin, a shiver running down his spine as he inhaled her scent.

Then he felt something. It was something warm, soft, delicate, and it was moving slowly, no tantalizingly, up his chest. He glanced down and found Hermione’s hands gliding up over his shirt, their heat sending sparks over his skin. Looking back into her eyes, he found that they were almost black, the gold flecks around her irises sparkling against the darkness around them. He found himself letting his hand travel over her cheek, fire sparking up along his fingers as they moved over her skin. Realizing what he was doing, his silver eyes turned stormy grey as his hand moved to the nape of her neck, grasping her hair and pulling her head back, glaring hate shining in his eyes. Her own gaze intensified as her hands clenched into fists on his shirt, drawing him close.

His brain was screaming at him to scream at her, to disgrace her in any way possible, but his body had other plans. He clenched his hand by his side, his own personal battle of what to do with it raging in his head. His brain lost as it crept up her thigh to rest at the base of her spine, drawing her flush against him, his skin turning to fire wherever she touched. The hand grasping her hair pulled further downward, forcing her to look him in the eye. Her arms trapped, her body pressed firmly against him, she had nowhere to go. It was not an embrace of love, nor was it a grasp of hate. It was something else entirely. What formed then was a forgiveness that could not be comprehended by any other.

The fire in Hermione’s eyes dimmed as his grip loosened. As his hand released her hair, his arm sliding down over her shoulder, she found herself seizing his wrist, holding him in place. The look in his eyes pained her, more than it should have. With distinct intent, she let her eyes travel down his jaw, over his neck, across his shoulder. They came to rest on the pale skin of his forearm, on the black stain of imperfection that marred his flesh.

It seemed to glow with dark hatred, with blinding rage as it writhed, almost harmlessly, against his skin. She let her fingers run over the flesh, drifting them across the magic that rested there; powerful, evil, and yet beautiful. He breathed in as her fingers danced along his skin. Her eyes snapped up to his. Before she could think, she was raising his arm up, her eyes moving down to stare into the hollow eyes of the skull, as she brought the searing flesh to her lips. As the swirling darkness brushed her skin, Malfoy gasped, a searing fire spitting up his spine at her touch. He moved to pull his arm away, but her tightened fingers wouldn’t let go. Hermione let her lips slide away, her cheek brushing against his forearm, releasing him as she did so.

“I’m so sorry, Malfoy. So sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper, barely anything at all. And then something happened. There was no conscious thought, no reasoning behind that which occurred next. It was as if some unknown force moved through them as it collided with itself, over and over and over again. Something broke within him, something he didn’t think could break, or that it was even there. His eyes turned haunted, hollow, and he cracked in two. And suddenly, he was in her arms, her hand holding him to her across his neck, her arm wrapped around him, clutching to him like a lifeline.

And then, without thought or reserve, his own arms wound around her, his face turning into her neck, taking in her scent. The tears fell from his eyes as if they had never flown before. His sobs wracked through him as if he was fighting just to survive. There they stayed, frozen in time as if nothing could break them. Hermione holding him, letting him let go of everything he’d been forced into through the years, and Draco finally letting himself leave behind all the pain and hurt that life had dealt him through the years.

“I don’t….I don’t know…how…” His voice was broken into shards, the pieces falling on her ears like rain on a lake. “I can’t. I can’t…”

The sobs ceased, his hands clutching her to him with a desperation she hadn’t thought possible. With one last breath of heat over her flesh, he stepped away, the connection lost between them as time slowly caught up with them. His hands grazed over her shoulders and down her arms as he moved from her, but her fingers caught with his. This time, she wouldn’t let him go.

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to.” She moved towards him, her hands flying to his neck, dragging his lips down to hers. She didn’t expect him to respond, and when he did, they were suddenly flying through the air, her body pressed firmly against his, as they whirled into the alcove, Hermione’s body hitting the stone wall as they grappled for control. Her hands moved over his back, pressing him closer, his own hands traveling up her neck, grasping, choking, controlling. He pressed her against the wall, moving his head to look into her eyes. His thumb ran over her jaw, teasing her flesh as his knee edged between her legs, daring her to speak.

Slowly, he brought his lips closer to hers, taunting her. Her body strained towards his, her breath coming in short, labored gasps. Her eyes left his, traveling down his face, to rest at his lips, pulling her own towards them, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her lips as she drew closer.

As the sound left her mouth, Malfoy froze, his eyes growing dark, as if a giant storm brewed beneath, waiting to be unleashed. He pressed forward, crushing her to the wall, their lips a mere breath apart. He tilted his chin upwards, staring down at her in longing, his eyes fixed on hers. “Beg me.” Her eyes snapped up to his, a coldness in them he’d never seen before. He spoke again. “Beg me.”

He thought at first that she wouldn’t, that he would leave this alcove more unsatisfied than he’d been in months. He thought she would shove him away, scream at him, defy him, hit him, curse him, kill him. And yet, as he watched in utter bewilderment, she turned her head up at him, her eyes dancing and spoke. “Please. Please, Draco. Kiss me, please.”


~*~

AN: So, what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Are completely and totally confused? Let me know!!!!