Lust, War and... Love?

My thanks to Margaritama for her fantastic beta work on this chapter!The events, portrayed here, transpire behind the scenes in Chapter 15, The Unbreakable Vow in HBP.

Warning: This chapter deals with a suicide attempt, although there is no graphic description of the act.

hotbabe: Thank you for reviewing! I am so glad you liked this chapter. You’re right, it’s so hard to have privacy at school. Pansy is a huge nuisance, but she is so anxious to hold on to her fiance, right? I imagine that there’s so much parental pressure on her to retain Draco, since he’s such a great ‘catch’.

angeles: Thank you for your review! Something is going to be done about Pansy in this chapter, but will Draco and Hermione be happy about the outcome? Ron, of course, can’t see anything because Lavender is so tightly wrapped around him, as we all know from HBP. :D

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Monday rolled around, dark and overcast. The freshly cut Christmas trees filled the air with the festive scent of spruce needles. Bright green and red holiday wreaths punctuated the long hallways. Aromas of cinnamon, mulled cider and baked goods lingered in the passages closest to the kitchens. Girls darted under mistletoe bunches hung in the corridors whenever a cute boy passed by. Hermione was very much amused at the effort Harry took to avoid mistletoe-decorated routes as she walked with him to the Great Hall for lunch.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry sat down next to Ron, and Hermione took a seat at the far end, deliberately avoiding a look at the tall redhead. Her place made a good vantage point for observing both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. She could see the blond head very well, but she knew it wasn’t her Draco. The Polyjuiced Nott could fool anyone, except her, who knew Draco so intimately.

Yesterday she intruded on Theo and Padma snogging in an abandoned classroom, and requested their help in warding off Parkinson.

To Hermione’s surprise and delight, Nott was so enthusiastic about “teaching Pansy some manners” that he immediately fetched Draco from the dungeons. Even more, Theo volunteered to Polyjuice himself into Draco. Hermione found his zeal a little worrisome, but at least she didn’t have to persuade Nott. Padma, however, was very reluctant about the Polyjuice plan from the start.

Draco, naturally, put on his most obnoxious Pure-blood act, short only of calling Hermione the “M” word. She found it hard not to chuckle as he strutted around the classroom and bashed the “stupid birds”. Nott eventually snapped at him to shut up and be a gentleman, if Draco wanted any help fixing his own fiancée problem.

Finally, they agreed that Polyjuiced Nott would openly approach Padma in the Great Hall. Then Hermione and Draco, transformed into Theo, would lure Parkinson to follow Nott-Malfoy and Padma to the dungeons and to witness their passionate snogging.

At the end of the negotiations, Nott made Hermione promise not to let Malfoy, Polyjuiced into Nott, out of her sight at all times, and they would both come downstairs, presumably in case Parkinson assaulted the snogging couple.

Now, in the Great Hall, Hermione watched Padma turn her head and glance at the Slytherin table. Nott-Malfoy flashed a toothy grin at her.

Draco, in Nott‘s disguise, poked with the fork at his omelet. He didn’t care much for Theo‘s favourite lunch choice, but he had to play the part. Pansy sat across from him, looking forlorn.

“Guess, Malfoy’s after Padma Patil,” Zabini said loudly, who was next to Draco-Nott. Pansy quickly turned her head in “Malfoy’s” direction. Draco-Nott did the same.

Nott-Malfoy folded a crane and sent it gliding over to the Ravenclaw table, where it landed near Padma. She quickly unfolded it and showcased her wide smile to the Slytherin table. Draco threw a quick glance at Pansy. Seeing her savage expression, he was truly glad that it was the Polyjuiced Nott courting Padma, and not him.

Zabini watched Nott-Malfoy with a great interest, and Draco nearly elbowed him in his side to make him divert his gaze. Zabini was too immodest for his own good. On second thought, Draco wondered if Theo had enlisted Blaise in spite of his promise not to involve anyone else.

“I thought you made up with Padma, Nott,” Blaise said offhandedly. “Wonder if Malfoy would drag her off for a snog?”

“If he does, I’ll hex his balls off!” grunted Draco, trying to imitate an angry Nott.

“You‘re rather moody, Theo,” the obnoxious Zabini continued. Pansy pushed her barely touched plate aside, apparently having lost her appetite completely.

Soon, Padma rose from her seat and headed to the exit. Nott-Malfoy jumped to his feet instantly and hurried around the table to the entrance door. Pansy, her expression stiff, followed him with her eyes.

“A good snog’s in order,” announced Blaise and helped himself to a sandwich. “Wonder whom Malfoy would hit on next. A Hufflepuff?”

“Shut up, Zabini!” Draco hissed.

The Greengrass sisters giggled loudly, and Pansy’s face twitched. Her fork clattered on the table as she bolted for the exit.

Draco glanced at the Gryffindor table and saw Granger walking to the doors. He rose to follow her out of the Great Hall.

“Where did they go?” he asked, as he came up to Hermione in the Entrance Hall.

“Down to the dungeons, of course,” she answered in a low voice. “I’m a bit worried – you should’ve seen Parkinson’s face when she rushed downstairs!”

They jogged down the winding passage, and nearly bumped into Pansy, slouching against the stone wall. Draco peered ahead. Merlin’s cursed pants, he should have known better than to agree to Nott’s plan!

“Damned idiot!” He attempted to pull his wand out, but Hermione clutched his forearm to prevent him from firing a hex at Nott.

In a trance-like stupor, Parkinson stood as still as statue. Stealthily, the two of them pushed past her in the narrow corridor. However, she showed no sign of noticing them.

“I can’t believe it – right in front of Snape’s office,” Draco muttered, as Hermione held on to his sleeve. “Do you remember if Snape was still in the Great Hall when we left?”

Nott-Malfoy had shoved Padma against the wall across from the office door, and was snogging her roughly. Padma whimpered, unable to escape from his embrace. Worse even, Nott’s hand was buried in the bosom of her robes, and he was very obviously pawing his girlfriend’s breasts under her clothes.

Peeking past her boyfriend’s ear, Padma emitted an embarrassed giggle at the sight of Draco-Nott and Hermione. Oblivious to everyone, Nott-Malfoy trailed kisses down her neck.

“Yo-ho-ho! The golden Malfoy boy’s got a new bride! Snogging her hard, loving her hard! Out the window goes the old bride!” Peeves yodeled, hovering over their heads.

“I’m going to kill him!” Draco jerked forward but Hermione hung onto the back of his robes. “Stop that, No – Malfoy!”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder; Pansy seemed to be still there, but she couldn’t be sure. Then she looked at the infuriated Draco-Nott, and could not help but burst out in laughter. Draco was simply fabulous in the role of a jealous Nott.

“Out the window goes the Parkinson cow! Out the window goes the Parkinson cow!” Peeves carried on, and suddenly several girls’ voices joined in, chanting boisterously, “Out the window goes the Parkinson cow! Out the window goes the Parkinson cow!”

Hermione whipped around. A group of Fifth Year Slytherin girls came near them, Thornton and Growley singing the loudest. Growley laughed harshly, and the rest of the girls giggled behind her.

Then Hermione thought she heard a muffled cry, and peered into the dark corridor. She couldn’t see if Pansy was still there, pressed against the wall behind the other’s backs.

In meantime, Nott-Malfoy held Padma plastered against the wall. Oblivious to the commotion, he kept devouring her mouth, his hand already hiking up the hem of her robes.

“Mr. Malfoy – detention for the whole week!” a cold voice resonated in the passage.

The Fifth Year girls vanished as Snape came forth and stood in front of the couple. Mortified, Padma pushed Nott-Malfoy away with all of her force, and he nearly tumbled backwards. He flailed his arms, almost hitting Snape on his shoulder, but managed to regain his balance.

“Miss Patil, please come to my office after the classes,” a stern voice called out. McGonagall was standing behind Hermione and Draco-Nott. Her tone made Hermione want to disappear on the spot.

“Starting today, please report to my office for your detention at seven after dinner every day until the end of week,” Snape commanded in an icy tone. “I expected better manners from you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“My apologies, Professor Snape. I will do the detention tonight. My apologies, Professor McGonagall,” Nott-Malfoy said quickly, but not too unhappily.

“I’m s-so sorry, Professors,” Padma mumbled, her head low. Her hands trembled as she buttoned up her robes.

McGonagall issued a laconic nod of dismissal as she followed Snape into his office. Padma, her face a deep shade of red, instantly darted down the passage towards the stairs.

“You, imbecile!” screamed Draco-Nott, and lunged at Nott-Malfoy, but Theo stopped him with a prompt Stunning Spell.

“Now, we are even, Malfoy,” Nott-Malfoy said slowly and clearly, as he surveyed Draco in a heap on the floor. “Enjoy the detention!” He turned and disappeared down the dark corridor.

Hermione realised that everyone was gone, except the two of them. She lifted the Stunning Spell from Draco. He jumped to his feet, hissing obscenities, but Hermione didn’t let him linger for long. Still alive in her mind, the vision of the blond boy brazenly groping Padma had set her libido on fire.

Hermione grabbed Draco by his robes and pulled him into the nearest dungeon, unceremoniously.

Once in the chamber, Draco, his features already reverting to his normal looks, kicked a chair with all his force.

“A detention every night till the end of the week, and Zabini’s fucking Potions homework too!” he yelled, firing a hex and splitting a chair. “Damn, damn it!”

Hermione cast locking charms on the door and stood silently, waiting for the stream of expletives to dry out, as Draco, like an angry beast, paced back and forth, firing random spells. Sparks flew when a couple of hexes hit the stone walls.

The sight of him, tall, disheveled and furious, ignited Hermione even more. She tensed, trying to control the throbbing in her lower body, and gripped her wand.

After two desks and several chairs shattered into pieces, he halted and took a deep breath.

“Well, you earned it,” Hermione said quietly, trying to keep her turbulent emotions in check. “After the tricks you pulled on both of them. It’s no surprise they wanted to get back at you.”

Draco swore again and sunk into a chair. He looked at Hermione, and felt like tearing her into pieces right away. The way she hung on him during the episode in the corridor set him ablaze with desire.

“Bloody Merlin, how did Aurors think of interrogating Zabini?” he asked, his darkened stare drilling into Hermione’s face.

“Well, they talked to the students who were at the Three Broomsticks around the time of the Katie Bell incident.” Hermione shrugged and pulled a chair up. She would rather have shut him up with a long, hungry kiss.

“So, you told them about Zabini accosting you outside the loo?”

“Of course. I was one of the first to be questioned,” Hermione fibbed. The Aurors never interrogated her, but it was not possible to explain it to Draco. “Together with Harry and Ron.”

Draco swore again. Hermione held his angry stare, resignedly.

“Why didn’t they summon me?” he asked, suddenly overcome by worry.

“I don’t know.” Hermione did her best to keep cool. “When I learned it was you, not Zabini, I figured you didn’t want me to enter the loo. Am I right?”

“You’re bloody correct, as always, Granger!” Draco snarled.

“What goes around, comes around, Draco,” Hermione said softly.

Draco stared into her now deep black eyes. Although she was sitting still, he could see her bosom heaving. He didn’t like the fact that he was left out of the interrogations. Was he being watched?

Then his glance slid down her torso and lingered on the roundness of her hips under her clothes.

“C‘mon, Granger,” he blurted, his hand unbuckling his belt.

“Not now, Draco – we’re running late for Arithmancy,” Hermione tried to reason. “Better after the classes.”

“Ditch Arithmancy, okay?” he growled. “After you hanging on me, I’m horny as hell!”

Hermione had to agree with him. His arousal was very evident under the fabric of his trousers, and there was no way he could attend the class.

“I only wonder if Padma is all right.” She rose gracefully from her chair, tossed her knickers aside and, in one swift motion, straddled his lap. He emitted a short groan as her wet heat clenched on his near-bursting cock. She was so tight and wound up, she had to force herself onto him, almost painfully, but in her overheated state it was such a sweet pain. “I’m afraid Nott overdid it.”

“I’ll Crucio him tonight in bed. Under a Silencing Charm,” Draco said gloomily and ripped Hermione’s robes open. “Hope Pansy leaves us alone now.”

“I guess she was in shock.” Hermione shivered briefly when the cold air touched her heated breasts. She slid her hand under his shirt. With her palm on his bare skin, she could feel his heart beating rapidly. “I really hope she gave up on you. You played the part brilliantly!”

A sharp jolt shook Hermione’s body, as his teeth bit her nipple. Pushing her breasts against his face and weaving her fingers in his blond hair, she ground onto his member with fervour.

Draco inhaled the warm, milky scent of her skin, while tasting it at the same time. In that instant, they exploded together with him buried deep in her scorching insides.

After catching her breath, Hermione slid off his lap. He zipped up his trousers, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Quietly, Hermione put her clothes in order and sat down on another chair. She pulled out her day planner, and discovered that she had nearly forgotten about the Prefects’ meeting in McGonagall’s office before the dinner. She’d be able to see Padma then and make sure everything was all right, she thought.

The day planner back in her school bag, Hermione glanced at the still motionless Draco, and a pang of pity tugged at her heart. She understood how screwed he was, even if it was his own fault.

Hermione walked up to Draco, and stroked his blond hair gently. His eyes flipped open, and she leaned to kiss him on his mouth. He answered her lips weakly.

“We’ve got about twenty minutes before the next class,” Hermione said. “What would you like to do now?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, and pulled her onto his lap. “Let’s just sit like this. I’m tired like hell.”

Hermione hugged Draco, as he buried his face in her bosom.

******

Madam Pince ushered Harry and Hermione out of the library at closing time.

“The Common Room?” asked Harry, adjusting his glasses.

Hermione said nothing. The evening studies with Harry in the library were her refuge of normalcy, and she clung to those moments with her friend. She often shared her afternoons with Draco, but didn’t let him usurp her time after dinner. Ginny rarely came to the library at night, so there was little to distract Harry from the conversations with Hermione.

The Common Room? Hermione was certain Ron and Lavender were sprawled on a couch there. The best she could do was to sneak past them to her dorm and not leave it until the next morning.

Sometimes she felt like suggesting Harry head off to an abandoned classroom instead, but then she would put him in the same camp with Malfoy. She hated the thought of it. Harry was her trusted friend, and Draco - well, he was going to be only an episode, after all.

“Er . . . I’d need to use the loo,” she mumbled and parted with Harry.

In the restroom, washing her hands, Hermione mused on the day’s events. It worried her that Padma did not come to the Prefect’s meeting. Nott had no idea where his girlfriend was either.

In the light of the outrageous snogging incident, McGonagall fervently expounded on the urgency of discouraging public expressions of affections while at school. Ron hid behind Clayton and Goldstein’s backs, and kept his head low until the end of the meeting.

As Hermione shut the faucet off, she heard the familiar whiny voice. Well, this time it was not exactly whiny, but almost cheerful.

“Hi, Hermione.” Moaning Myrtle floated past the mirrors. “Have you talked to Nearly Headless Nick, lately?”

“Not really. Sorry, I’ve been busy,” Hermione mumbled. “No time to drop in for a chat.” She actively avoided the ghost unless she needed to coax her to stay away from the Prefects’ bathroom. But Moaning Myrtle apparently had a certain liking for her, and Hermione ended up seeing the ghost more often than she wanted.

“Oh, don’t bother.” Moaning Myrtle studied herself in a mirror. “I’m going to have a girlfriend soon!” She turned around, folded her arms on her chest and cocked her head.

“Who?” Hermione asked. It was rare to see Moaning Myrtle so jubilant.

“Don’t recall her name, though.” Moaning Myrtle mused a little. “Patty? Pam? She’s got shiny black hair, and I think she’s in the Sixth Year too.”

A very bad feeling rose in Hermione’s chest. “I hope no one has been killed, right?”

“No, she’s taking her own life. She doesn’t want to live because of a boy, but when I was leaving the Prefect’s bathroom, her soul became afraid of death.”

“Wha-a-at?” Hermione screamed. “What’s she doing? In the Prefect’s bathroom?”

“Cut her wrists, I think,” Moaning Myrtle said tersely. “I’d better go check on her. The bathroom is locked, by the way.” The ghost dove into a sink, leaving Hermione in ringing silence.

She bolted out, hardly seeing anything around her. In a few seconds, Hermione pounded on the door of McGonagall’s office.

“Padma . . . Padma cut her veins in the Prefect’s bathroom!” she hollered, when the door opened. After a house-elf was instantly dispatched to Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall gathered her robes in her hands, and the two of them rushed downstairs.

Hermione yelled the password at the bathroom door but it did not budge. In less than a second, the door burst open from McGonagall’s spell.

The rest was like a blur to Hermione. The deadly pale face with blue lips, framed by jet-black hair, floating in the pinkish foam. McGonagall talking rapidly to Madam Pomfrey, as they cast the spells and elevated the girl out of the pool. Then her body on a gurney, covered with weird canary-yellow blankets, and Madam Pomfrey waving her wand over it.

“The pulse is still present, Professor, but very weak,” Madam Pomfrey said. “She’s unconscious.”

“Poor Miss Parkinson . . .” McGonagall muttered as the gurney travelled through desolate corridors, concealed with a Disillusionment Charm. The three of them hurried alongside it. “After her fiancé’s cruel act today!”

Hermione was about to disintegrate from terror and shame when she accompanied the small procession all the way to the hospital wing. She laughed while Parkinson suffered a horrible agony . . . No matter how much she disliked Pansy, the recollection of her own act burned Hermione’s conscience.

She wondered if Padma confessed the whole thing to McGonagall after classes. But the teacher did not indicate any knowledge of it while Hermione accompanied them. Then the thought of having to explain it to Dumbledore mortified her. It was incredibly stupid of her and Malfoy to come up with such a wretched plot.

“What act?” wondered Madam Pomfrey, as they neared the entrance to the hospital wing. “Teenage girls can be so impressionable at this age.”

“He kissed and groped another girl – I’d say in an exceedingly insolent manner – in front of Miss Parkinson.” McGonagall’s voice was cracking.

“Oh, not again! An unrequited love!” exclaimed Pomfrey, setting the gurney in the room. “The team from St. Mungo‘s should be here in a few minutes. I have stabilised Miss Parkinson, for now.”

“It’s the same archaic custom of arranged marriages. The parents betroth their children, and ruin young lives!” McGonagall leaned over Pansy’s lifeless face. “Will she recover?”

“I hope so. The healers should replenish her blood promptly. She‘s alive, but barely.” Pomfrey waved her wand over Parkinson’s body, and dim shapes formed around it. She studied them. “Poor girl. The Malfoys picked her for their son, and she got her head in the clouds!”

“I’ll notify her parents now.” McGonagall turned abruptly and nearly knocked Hermione off her feet. “Ah, you’re here as well. Take a seat, Miss Granger.”

Hermione collapsed into a chair proffered by Pomfrey. McGonagall speedily produced several notes, which she handed to house-elves. Two healers tumbled out of the fireplace, wheeling a large case.

“The vital signs are present, Healer Jameson,” quickly reported one of them, a tall man with a black beard. The other, squat and clean-shaven, opened the case, which held a gleaming metal contraption and a multitude of bottles and vials lined up in special holders.

“Let me run one more test.” The tall man waved his wand over Pansy’s body.

“I’ve received the response from Mrs. Parkinson. She and Mr. Parkinson will be at St. Mungo’s in ten minutes or less,” announced McGonagall after a house-elf popped up in front of her. “She requested to keep the whole matter strictly confidential. Evermore, she wanted the student who found her daughter – I didn’t name her – to be Obliviated!“ McGonagall put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Of course, I won’t do it, Miss Granger. But the incident must be kept secret.”

Hermione nodded weakly. She watched the healers in light blue robes tend to Parkinson’s still form.

“Unfortunately, the patient has lost so much blood that a Blood-Replenishing Potion alone wouldn’t help,” declared Healer Jameson. “Could we request someone to donate blood right now?”

“Certainly,” McGonagall stepped forth and so did Pomfrey. “We’d be happy to provide.”

“As would I,” said Hermione, her throat now completely dry. It was the least she could do to remedy her horrible wrongdoing.

“Thank you, ladies. Healer Peabody would need to test your blood first.”

Peabody, the tall healer with a beard, waved his wand over each one’s palm, concluding that McGonagall and Hermione’s blood was the best match.

“Excellent, Healer Peabody, how much blood would we need to supply?” asked McGonagall. “I’ve just requested Professor Snape’s attendance - he’s the Head of Slytherin House.”

“The standard amount from the two of you should be enough. We will infuse it with the Blood-Replenishing Potion, so the blood cells would multiply rapidly in her system,” explained Peabody, setting up the metal contraption and attaching long tubes to it. “Who would like to be the first?”

“Me, please,” said Hermione. Seeing McGonagall’s expression, she quickly added, “I’d really like to help. I’m so sorry about what happened.”

“All right,” the teacher agreed. “After you’re done, please go to your dorm immediately. I release you from classes tomorrow.”

In a minute, a needle was in Hermione’s forearm, and she watched her blood flow through the thin tube to a pouch filled with the bluish potion, which was connected with another tube to Pansy’s limp arm.

Then she heard the door open, and turned her head. Snape, with an ominous expression, walked in. Behind him, she discerned Draco’s tall figure.

“You brought Mr. Malfoy, Professor Snape?” McGonagall nearly incinerated the student with her glare. “I believe I said in my note that the matter was confidential.”

“Mr. Malfoy was serving detention at my office, at the time,” Snape stepped aside, depriving Draco of the chance to hide behind his back. “Besides, Miss Parkinson is his fiancée, is she not?”

“I’m not sure if the Parkinsons would really want him to know about this,” grumbled McGonagall and turned to the healers.

Draco tried not to look at the figure under the yellow blanket. His gaze stumbled upon the thin tube with the red liquid flowing through it. Against his will, his eyes followed it to the pouch, and then the along the other tube coming out of it, with a purplish liquid in it. Then he saw the marble-like arm on the edge of the blanket.

He quickly averted his eyes from the gurney. His hands were cold and clammy and his stomach churned nauseously.

Not knowing what to do, he stared at Hermione. She was forlorn, her face frozen in a stiff mask.

“It’s okay to come closer to your fiancée, Mr. Malfoy,” Pomfrey said encouragingly. “She’s unconscious now, but she’ll be all right.”

“T-thank you, but I-I can see her from here,” Draco stammered and edged closer to Hermione. Snape and McGonagall threw sharp looks at both of them.

Hermione glanced up at Draco and saw pure terror in his eyes.

“Are-are you giving your blood, Granger?” muttered Draco, evidently unable to think of anything better to say.

“As you can see,” Hermione said bluntly. If not for the presence of others, she would tell him to stop being a wimp.

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” said Healer Jameson, as he removed the needle from her arm and stopped the bleeding. Pomfrey quickly brought a goblet with the Blood-Replenishing Potion to Hermione’s lips, and she gulped the acidic drink all at once.

Hermione got to her feet, and suddenly felt light-headed. She wavered a little. Snape’s eyes drilled into her face. A memory of Theo and Draco recounting their plan with the Polyjuice Potion flashed through her mind.

Pomfrey promptly grabbed her by the elbow, but Hermione managed to steady herself, and her momentary attack of vertigo went away.

“Are you all right?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “Perhaps you should stay here overnight. You look distressed.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Hermione was in no mood to stay in the hospital wing.

“I would like to have a word with Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy in my office now, Professor McGonagall,” Snape said dryly.

“But Miss Granger is exhausted!” objected McGonagall, her sleeve already rolled up and her arm propped up on the table.

“I would like to find out more about the incident in the dungeons, and Miss Granger was present there.” Snape’s face was expressionless. “I expect Parkinson’s parents to visit me in a day or two.”

“Please, don’t be hard on her, Professor Snape,” insisted McGonagall. “Besides, I’m releasing her from all classes tomorrow. She certainly needs to recover from the shock!”

“Exactly, she should be able to rest well.”

“Very well, but if you stress her too much, you’ll have to deal with me!” was McGonagall‘s scathing response.

As the three of them left the hospital wing, Hermione looked at Malfoy. The dark circles under his eyes grew more pronounced, and he looked ill.

“I’m a little dizzy,” Hermione confessed. Draco drew closer to her, their elbows rubbing. The same moment Snape, a couple feet ahead of them, threw a quick glance over his shoulder. He grunted and then everyone was silent.

Hermione reached for Draco’s hand, as they walked behind Snape. His cold fingers gripped her palm readily and didn’t let her go until they arrived at Snape‘s office.

The professor commanded them to sit down in front of his desk. Like a malevolent vulture, he perched on his chair, his eyes trained on their faces.

Draco blanked out his mind. He was regaining his self-control. Draco clearly understood what Snape was up to, and he feared for Hermione.

Snape’s heavy stare focused on Hermione, as she sat very straight in her seat. It made her want to close her eyes. She steeled herself to resist the teacher, but her brain burst with painful recollections.

Nott and Malfoy talking about the plan – again. Then her laughing at Draco-Nott’s crazed looks, as she holds on to his robes. Pansy’s muffled cry behind them. “Now we are even.” Nott’s words. Her, impaled on Draco‘s member, and her breasts bared to his lips.

“No!” she screamed, hiding her face in her hands. “Please - no!” Any more and she would lose her mind, completely!

“Leave her alone, Professor!” Draco jumped to his feet.

“Calm down, Draco.” Snape waved his wand lazily, and an invisible force threw Draco back into his seat causing him to gasp for air.

“Amazing,” Snape said slowly, folding his arms on his chest. “Simply amazing. You two are thick as thieves. Who would think of such a couple? The young Malfoy and Muggle-born Granger!”

“Why did you allow Parkinson to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays?” Draco hissed, his hands fisted. “You knew why I stayed at school!”

“I had to.” Snape leaned back in his chair. “What you two did was very childish and immature. There were more intelligent ways to resolve the situation.”

Hermione hugged herself in the chair. The fact that Snape was able to see their intimate moment was too much for her to bear. She wanted to die on the spot from the shame.

“What ways?” Draco retorted. “My parents goaded me into the cursed engagement, and you sided with them! Parkinson threatened Hermione during her patrol the other night!”

“As a result, you have further complicated your situation,” Snape said emotionlessly. “I understand you recruited Mr. Nott and Miss Patil for your conspiracy.”

Hermione had never heard Malfoy talk to Snape like this. She felt very dizzy and weak again. Hermione gripped the armrests with her hands because she became afraid of falling from it.

“What conspiracy?” said Draco angrily.

“The plot you masterminded in order to make Miss Parkinson go home certainly qualifies as conspiracy.”

“All right, the four came together to get Pansy off our backs, happy?” snarled Draco. “Leave us alone!”

“Now listen to me, Draco and Hermione, if you want to spend the holidays in peace.” Snape stood up, his dark figure looming over the desk. “No word of the suicide attempt to Mr. Nott and Miss Patil. If anyone asks questions, the answer is that Miss Parkinson was called home due to a family emergency.”

“Yes, Sir.” Hermione’s dizziness receded and she reached for Draco’s hand. He was about to say something, but the squeeze of her fingers on his wrist silenced him.

“Excellent.” A small smile slithered across Snape’s lips at Hermione’s gesture, but she resolved to pay no attention. He continued, “Next time you have a problem, you must consult with me. As you know, I took an Unbreakable Vow to protect you, Draco.”

“As if I need your protection!” Draco hissed again, ignoring another squeeze of Hermione’s hand.

“Of course. For the sake of you both, you must exercise the utmost caution.”

“Draco, please, calm down. We are in such a horrible mess now,” pleaded Hermione. The only way to get out of Snape’s office quickly was to acquiesce to his every word. “Professor Snape is in the position to help you.”

“You should listen to her, Draco,” Snape stated in an irritated tone. “Miss Granger has more sense than you.” His eyes met Hermione’s, and he smiled condescendingly, “Miss Parkinson owes you a life debt now, Hermione. I will make sure she knows it.”

“Thank you,” she muttered. It struck her that Snape addressed her by her given name again. His tone, while far from pleasant, did not sound malicious either.

Draco cleared his throat loudly but said nothing. He stared at the desk.

The teacher‘s eyes perused her once again. Hermione braced herself for another Legilimens attack, but nothing happened.

“I hope I made it clear that you must keep the whole matter a secret,” said Snape.

“Yes, Sir,” Hermione nodded quickly. Draco sat in a sullen silence.

“Excellent. You may go. No classes for you tomorrow either, Draco. However, I still expect you in my office for detention!”

“Why am I doing the detention? You now know it was Nott who snogged Padma!”

“Because the incentive was yours,” Snape said with a tone of cold finality.

Hermione tugged at Draco’s sleeve before he had time to retort. He glanced at her, and suddenly a deflated look came over him.

They stood up, and vertigo overwhelmed Hermione again. She wavered, and Draco caught her by her shoulders. She closed her eyes trying to collect herself. When she opened them, Snape was holding a goblet at her lips. The potion in it reeked of garlic.

“Are you dizzy?” asked Snape calmly, and she nodded, Draco’s hands still holding her. “A side effect of the Blood-Replenishing Potion. Drink this.”

Hermione swallowed the smelly liquid, and her vertigo went away instantly.

“I would suggest that you escort her to the Gryffindor quarters, Draco,” Snape said gruffly. “Otherwise, if she faints and falls off the stairs, there would be much more publicity in the morning!”

In the cold corridor, Hermione hugged herself, as they walked to the stairs up.

“I wish I had asked Pomfrey for a Calming Draught,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at all.”

“I’ve got it.” Draco produced the bottle from his bag. In the dim light Hermione could discern that most of the potion was nearly gone.

They both swallowed a dose of the Draught, but after walking up a couple of floors Hermione’s nerves were still far from calm.

“Let’s go to the Room of Requirement,” suggested Draco. “I couldn’t bear it in the dorm now. I don’t think I can sleep.”

In the Room of Requirement, they sank into the big green chairs. Hermione surveyed the bed, then looked at Malfoy brooding. If he took her to bed now, she would be as passionate as a fish. The shock from Parkinson’s suicide attempt completely erased her libido.

Draco gazed at Hermione. He fought hard not to let the horrific image of Pansy’s lifeless face back into his mind. He urgently needed to block his fear and terror, to distract himself, somehow. The Calming Draught wasn’t helping much. Was he becoming immune to the potion?

Why did Pansy have to go insane and try to kill herself? Didn’t she understand that it was his parents who wanted the engagement, and not him?

He tried hard to absolve himself from the guilt he couldn‘t bear to admit, to relieve his soul from the burden of his fiancée’s act. But it wasn’t working. He desperately needed a diversion, if he didn’t want to lose his mind.

“Strip, Granger.” His own voice sounded alien to him. Of course, he was being pathetic, and she could see his misery. The realisation of it angered him, and he ordered harshly, “Get on the bed.”

Hermione, shaken by his tone, scrambled towards the bed and settled on it. The room was warm, but when she took off her sweater and bra, her skin broke out in goose bumps. Hermione tucked her legs under her and glanced at Malfoy.

Draco’s eyes lingered on her naked breasts. It was not helping either. His member was listless, and she looked too miserable to excite him.

“I can’t do it,” he whispered, ashamed of his failure. “I-I just . . .” He waved his hand in a meaningless gesture.

Hermione sat on the bed for a few minutes. His reaction made her feel lonely, and it scared her. She pulled her robes to cover her shoulders, ignoring her sweater and bra on the bedspread, and moved to stand in front of Malfoy. Her breasts were bare in the opening of her robes, and she wanted him to notice her, affirm his recognition.

Draco sat motionless, staring at her bosom, blankly. Hermione settled onto his lap. He said nothing. Her breasts pressed against the fabric of his robes, and her lips touched his cheek warily. Their eyes met and he put his arm around her.

“What does it feel like to kill someone?” he asked out of sudden, and Hermione’s heart sank in shock.

“I didn’t murder Parkinson!” she attempted to defend herself. Oh no, she was trying to deceive him and herself because she couldn’t face her unbearable guilt. Why did he have to ask her this horrific question?

“No . . .” he spoke quickly, holding her tight in his embrace. “Last summer . . . the duel at the Department of Mysteries! Did you kill anyone?”

“I-I don’t know. . .” Hermione stuttered. “I didn’t use the Killing Curse, only Stupefy and Protego.”

“You dueled to kill, don’t lie to me!” he retorted, instantly irritated. “Tell me everything!”

“I fought to protect my friends and defend myself,” argued Hermione. “But we couldn’t have won it without the Aurors and Dumbledore.”

Suddenly, the mental image of Pansy’s lifeless features, in Draco’s mind, morphed into Dumbledore’s dead face with blue lips. Foul bile rose in Draco’s throat. Swallowing spasmodically, he demanded, “Tell me, I want to know how it happened! Did you see my father there?”

In spite of the proximity of Draco’s warm body, Hermione was shivering from cold. Haltingly, she began her narration of the battle, trying to remember everything accurately.

Draco hung on to every word she said about his father. She spoke about the elder Malfoy in a matter-of-fact manner, passing no explicit judgment on his actions, but he knew she was not so impartial in her mind.

He gritted his teeth as Hermione recounted the standoff between his father and Potter.

“Then a spell hit me, and I blacked out,” she finished. Her fingers were like icicles, and she avoided looking at his face.

“What was that rotten prophecy about? Why did Potter even have to drag you all there?”

“I’m not sure what the prophecy was. It broke.” Hermione thought it would be better to avoid revealing too much about the prophecy to him. “Apparently, it was important information for You-Know-Who. Harry was lured to the Ministry, he thought his godfather, Sirius Black, was in grave peril there.”

“Damn.” His voice was angry, but he still held Hermione in his arms tightly. “Why didn’t he just give it to my father?”

“Because it would help You-Know-Who win, and Harry would never do anything like that!”

“I hate Potter!” Draco flew off the handle, making Hermione jump in his lap. “I hate Dumbledore! He thinks he’s above everyone, the Headmaster! Lousy Potter is his pet, everyone loves him and what is he worth? If Dumbledore had any regard for Pure-bloods, everything would be in order!”

“What do you mean, in order?” Hermione questioned.

“I mean at school; the respect for Purebloods, the wizarding traditions, everything. You’ll never understand it, Granger!”

“Is it something your parents told you?” wondered Hermione. “Is it why your father likes You-Know-Who?”

“You-Know-Who is such a rat.” Draco spat out. “He’s after Potter, and Potter is a rat too!”

“Oh.” Hermione’s mind was working. “If Dumbledore paid you more attention, would it make you feel better?”

“Dumbledore has no regard for the real wizards! Look what sort of professors he hired! That oaf Hagrid – is he even qualified as a teacher? A werewolf to teach us DADA?”

“Yes, but he appointed you a Prefect last year, right?” Hermione chose not to dwell on the Hagrid’s job qualifications. She had long known that he, aside from his wonderful personality, was not a great teacher. “Besides, didn’t You-Know-Who enlist your help with a werewolf party?”

“You-Know-Who is a fucking rat to drag the werewolves in!” Draco answered bitterly. “Potter, precious Potter received the stupid scar as a baby, and now he’s a hero! And I‘m not a Prefect anymore!”

“If you didn’t side with Umbridge last year, you’d still be a Prefect now,” remarked Hermione. ”Umbridge wasn’t much to speak of as a teacher.”

“Umbridge was a dumb toad,” Draco said bluntly. Again, Granger was correct – you had to form an alliance with the right people. The thought annoyed him.

“Why did your father hate Harry? I mean before You-Know-Who appeared again.”

“He hated him?” Draco tried to recall whatever he heard about Potter from Dad. “He told me to make friends with him in the first year. “

“He did?” Hermione thought the Malfoy family positively abounded with surprises.

“Yeah, he did. I offered Potter my friendship before the start of the first year but he snubbed me! Decided that Weasel was better than me.”

“I see.” Hermione thought it wasn’t probably very wise of Harry to turn down Malfoy. Knowing her friend, she could imagine the manner of Harry’s response to Draco’s advances. “Well, Harry knew nothing about the feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys.”

“Potter thinks he’s awfully smart, and that the rules don’t apply to him,” grouched Draco. “He’s a celebrity, of course, and is all over The Daily Prophet!”

“I don’t think Harry enjoys the publicity. The scar gives him so much trouble, Draco.” Hermione hesitated, then asked, “If Harry accepted your friendship, you would tell him not to be friends with me, right?”

“Why do you have to complicate things, Hermione?” he groaned.

“You know, these things are easy to understand,” Hermione smiled weakly. “You’re jealous of Harry, and you two started off on the wrong foot during the first year. You spent tons of energy and time taunting Harry, and what do you have? Harry isn’t the type to get intimidated. After the way his uncle and aunt abused him at home, I think nothing can scare him anymore!”

“So?” Draco was reluctant to admit that Granger was right. Basically, when he stopped harassing Potty, he gradually realised it was just better to ignore Potter.

“Well, I don’t think you could become friends with Harry now,” mused Hermione. “Mind your own business, Draco, and leave him alone.”

“I‘d rather shag you now instead of hexing him,” he smirked. “I’m not going to sweat my ass off making friends with Potter! If he wants to be in my good books, he’d better work hard for it!”

“I know you were angry at him when your father was arrested,” Hermione pressed on. She needed to show empathy for his family tragedy, if she wanted to divert him away from the Death Eater life. “You love your father, of course.”

“Father – he was so strong and powerful. Everyone listened to him!” Draco remembered his excruciating visit with him in Azkaban. “And in the prison they treat him like dirt!”

Hermione recalled Lucius’ sinister demeanour in the Department of Mysteries. To her, he was the ominous leader of Death Eaters, and to Draco he was his beloved father, someone he admired. Still, this man imprisoned his son in the engagement to Parkinson, and it was the same man who loved Draco’s mother so much that he rescued her from the public disgrace.

“I must restore the Malfoy name,” Draco said doggedly. “I’m the only man in the family who can do it now.”

“By serving You-Know-Who?” Hermione asked quickly.

“Whatever it takes.” To Draco it was the only way he knew. He had to serve those in power in order to rise to the top. “Everyone knows the Ministry can’t control anything. You-Know-Who’s people are everywhere.”

“But there are certain principles, right? The dignity and honour? Serving the right cause?”

“I’m a Death Eater,” Draco said bluntly. ”Not much choice for me.”

His tone made Hermione want to cry but she restrained herself.

“I’d like to go to the dorm.” She summoned her clothes from the bed. “I think I’m better now.”

“All right,” agreed Draco. “I’ll walk you to the Gryffindor Tower.”

******

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and rose from his seat. “Thank you for filling me in on the happenings at your House during my absence, Severus. Minerva informed me about the poor Parkinson girl the night she was taken to St. Mungo’s, as well.”

Snape leaned back in his chair in front of the Headmaster’s desk. “A very unfortunate girl, this Miss Parkinson.”

“Remarkable.” Dumbledore strolled around his office, Snape’s eyes following him. “The young Malfoy and Granger seem to have formed an alliance, didn’t they?”

“It appears so, Sir.” Snape crossed his arms on his chest. “At least, you cannot deny that it supports my findings about Heorte Lustbaere.”

“It could make a good dissertation material, Severus,” mused Dumbledore. “Of course, after the war is over.”

Snape gave a sharp cackle. “I’ve been observing the young Nott per your request.”

“What do you think about the boy’s inclinations?” Dumbledore tapped his finger on one of the shiny metal objects on the side table.

“He does not appear to be very close with his father,” Snape said slowly. “In fact, I doubt he looks forward to becoming a Death Eater.”

“That is good. You could possibly mentor him once he joins the ranks of Death Eaters.”

“With boys of this age it can be hard to predict their response. Draco is not receptive to me at all,” Snape said tensely. “He openly defies the detention I gave him this Monday. He did not report to my office on Tuesday, or yesterday.”

“Hermione Granger informed me that Draco did not sound happy about the Dark Lord. I believe he is under a tremendous amount of stress.”

“Narcissa is very worried about the pressure her sister puts on Draco.” Snape rose from his chair too.

“Of course,” Dumbledore nodded. “I’m certain Bellatrix schools her nephew very rigorously. Remember the Imperio Curse that Draco cast on the younger student?”

“Yes, you said Miss Granger reported it.” Snape remarked with a slight note of pride. “Draco is a very capable young wizard.”

“In fact, I believe Malfoy and Granger could make a good team. Give it some time, and we will have the young Malfoy on our side, Severus.”

“Granger needs the proper training, Professor. If we want to use the girl as an anchor for Draco, she should distance herself from Potter.”

“I do not think we should push her to far.” Dumbledore studied a parchment on his desk. “Here. Several wizards disappeared without notice, and you were not in the know.”

“One cannot know everything, Dumbledore.”

“I agree. We must groom more informants in the Death Eater ranks.”

“I could work with Theo, but I’m having a hard time with Draco.”

“Hermione is in the position to reach out to Draco. The young Malfoy boy has a lot of potential. Especially with the training that he receives from his aunt.”

The door opened, and the two wizards turned towards it. McGonagall walked in briskly.

“The reports came in. Katie Bell is improving steadily but it will take a long while for her to recover completely.” McGonagall handed several parchments to Dumbledore. “Pansy Parkinson has recovered ninety percent physically and has been transferred to the mental ward at St. Mungo’s.”

“Thank you, McGonagall.” Dumbledore scanned the parchments. “Professor Snape and I have just been discussing Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger. Could you lend us a helping hand with Hermione during the holidays?”

McGonagall threw a look of suspicion at Snape. “Does it have to do something with the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Yes. As you know, we need to improve our intelligence network. Hermione Granger has evidently established a good rapport with the young Malfoy.” Dumbledore put the parchments on his desk. “It is going to be a long war.”

“If it includes coaching her to provide sexual services to the son of one of the most notorious Death Eaters, my answer is no,” McGonagall said firmly. “Of course, she’s of age, but I can see the toll it takes on her!”

“I believe Miss Granger is a very talented and intelligent young witch,” Dumbledore said soothingly.

“This talented and intelligent young witch is already unable to function without a Calming Draught!” McGonagall’s voice cracked and she paused for a breath. “Yesterday Madam Pomfrey informed me that Hermione had already used up a large vial of the Calming Draught. She gave it to the girl a few weeks ago. It was to last for two or three months, at least!”

“Are you sure she did not share the Draught with someone else?” Snape asked placidly.

“The Calming Draught is a medication that can’t be taken frivolously,” McGonagall answered sternly, advancing at Snape. “If you suppose that Mr. Malfoy took it regularly, it constitutes a prescription drug abuse, and we cannot allow that at school!”

“Minerva, please, I understand your concerns very well,” Dumbledore intervened. “But the situation is not an ordinary one. The war is raging.”

“Exactly! We must protect our students in times of danger and not try to make them into soldiers.” McGonagall clasped her wand. “We’ve got a botched assassination attempt, an averted suicide and a highly illegal lust potion abuse case on our hands already!”

“You are absolutely right, Minerva,” Dumbledore said tiredly. “Thank you for the reports. I will meet the Parkinsons this week.”

“Besides, I do not think it was a very good idea to hang the mistletoe bunches all over the castle, Headmaster,” McGonagall said, retreating to the entrance. “With all these horrors happening, teenage love crushes are spinning out of control!”

The door closed behind McGonagall, and Dumbledore turned to Snape, who was looking through the reports from St. Mungo’s.

“Minerva is dreadfully correct,” the Headmaster sighed.

“Draco is in contact with Nymphadora Tonks, as you know.” Snape placed the parchments on the desk. “I would suggest assigning her to Granger. Tonks has been trained in the areas of intelligence and reconnaissance.”

“If Tonks and Hermione could win Draco’s trust, it would be a major progress.” Dumbledore walked around his desk and sat down in his chair. “We should give Hermione all the help we can. I suggest that we ease up on the Malfoy boy.”

“Headmaster, I’m personally responsible for Draco, and I cannot let him indulge into whatever dangerous plans he conceives,” Snape replied in an acidic tone. “He needs a lot of guidance now, and he jeopardises himself by refusing my help!”

“Let’s ponder it over a few days and try to develop a consistent strategy.” Dumbledore closed his eyes and slowly rubbed his forehead with his good hand. “Thank you for your insights, Severus.”

“You are welcome, Headmaster. May I copy the hospital reports?” asked Snape, leaning over the desk.

“Certainly,” Dumbledore sighed without opening his eyes.

Snape flicked his wand over the parchments; they rustled softly as he duplicated them. Then he rolled the copies together, glanced at the motionless Dumbledore, and quickly exited the office.

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End Note: I hope you enjoyed reading this long chapter. It will take me a while to post the next chapter because I am going to work on my story for Hermione's Big Bang on LJ now. The submission deadline is already looming!