Lust, War and... Love?

Angeles: Happy 2010 to you too! More roller-coaster action is coming in this chapter. Hope you will like it too. Thank you for reading and reviewing!
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Hermione threw a curious glance around as she entered the Slytherin Common Room. The darkened low-ceilinged, long room could make a perfect snake den. But it was much warmer than the chilly underground corridors, and thence more inviting. The fire crackled merrily in the elaborately decorated stone fireplace. The dark green chairs in front looked cushy and welcoming.

She felt Draco’s breath on her neck. His hands cradled her hips. The familiar tingle filled her abdomen. The long day was coming to an end, and they both were now left to themselves in the empty Slytherin quarters. Hermione thought about having to walk through the cold and deserted castle all the way to the Gryffindor Tower after the tryst and a brief shiver ran down her spine.

“Should we go to the dorm?” She took a few more steps and savoured the warmth emanating from the fireplace.

“Why?” Draco was now at her side and rested his elbow on the high back of a chair. He surveyed the deep chair, upholstered in soft moss-coloured velvet and imagined her luscious body nestled in it like a precious pearl. “Let’s do it here.”

“What if someone comes in?” Her insides tightened with anxiety. She glanced at Draco. The fire cast flickering light on his lanky figure, adding a warm hue to his pale complexion.

“Nobody will come at this hour.“ His eyes glinted, and a wolfish grin bared his teeth momentarily. “Snape isn‘t at Hogwarts tonight. He went to visit my Mum.”

“Oh, if you really must…” With a shrug to conceal her worry, Hermione settled in a chair next to Draco’s. She waved her wand and the fire grew bigger, radiating more heat into the room.

In a few seconds Hermione was too hot. She raised her wand to reduce the fire, but Draco’s voice stopped her. “Undress.”

She turned her head, and her eyes landed on his naked arousal. Draco stretched in the other chair, his clothes in a untidy heap on the floor. The sight of him made her perspire even more violently in her mohair sweater under her robes. She wondered what new positions he was up to tonight.

Soon her clothes were folded neatly on the floor next to Draco’s. He took in the sight of her, naked and beautiful in the warm glow of the fireplace. The roundness of her breasts made him remember the feel of them in his palms. Then his eyes slid down to the dark furry triangle, and his member hardened when he tried to imagine the treasure hidden beneath it.

“Sit down, Hermione.” His voice was thick with the lust inflamed by the anticipation of what he was going to do to her. “Part your legs.”

Hermione sank into the deep chair and exposed herself to Draco. Although she had performed the wanton act so many times, she had a brief attack of self-consciousness. It set off throbbing in her lower body. She slid her buttocks forward to the edge of the seat, hungry for his touch.

Draco kneeled between her legs and caressed the inside of her thigh with his lips. He trailed small kisses on her smooth skin. His teeth grazed the soft surface and he heard Hermione inhale sharply.

Everything ceased to exist for him at this moment, except for the welcoming warmth of Hermione‘s body, the tantalizing scent of her arousal and the arousing sound of her small gasps.

All other things were fading into obscurity for Draco - his hysterical Auntie with her screeches through the enchanted Galleons, the stubborn Vanishing Cabinet that Draco wished so many times to blast into pieces out of sheer despair, the overeager Katz whom he was equally eager to curse all the way to the South Pole, and the ever-present spectre of the ominous Dark Lord that haunted him incessantly over the past weeks.

He raised his head and met Hermione’s glistening eyes. Her sensuous lips were slightly open, and her cheeks were flushed. She was breathing heavily. Her naked bosom rising and falling was a marvellous sight.

Draco straightened up and reached for his wand. Hermione, in a semi-daze induced by the heat and lust, watched his movements languidly. He picked up the wand from the floor, and then his fingers stroked her crotch. Hermione raised her hips, wanting him to excite her more.

Instead, he withdrew his hand. Before Hermione had time to protest, his wand moved in a circle over her lower body. Depilatio, she heard him say. A slight burning sensation tickled her between her legs momentarily. Alarmed, she looked down and saw her dark patch of hair dissipate, completely baring her to him.

“No, not this, Draco -” She reflexively covered herself with her palms.

“Why not?” The same second his hands caught her wrists and pinned them against the high chair back above her head. His face was inches from hers.

“It - it isn’t proper…” She was sinking into his pale grey eyes. “If others see me -”

Draco chuckled and his hands slid down her body. Hermione attempted to lower her arms but they were cuffed and bound securely to the chair back. Again, he used his bondage spell like the other day, she thought.

She wiggled and closed her legs, only to have them parted and bound below her knees to the chair legs.

“No one will see you in the showers, when nobody is staying in the Gryffindor Tower.” He cupped her breasts and kissed her on her lips.

Hermione relaxed. She knew Draco loved to push her limits. Every time she shed a vestige of propriety she craved him more. She knew that he knew her well enough not to take her protests seriously. Not when she mumbled her words like she did now. Hermione closed her eyes and surrendered to his eager mouth.

Draco broke the kiss off and readjusted himself between her knees. He could see her secret slit, and the skin around it was smooth and devoid of hair. He wanted to have more of her now unmasked pussy, and his lips slid down her belly. Then his tongue entered the crevice and he tasted her first time. It was part tangy, part salty and part something indescribably feminine, which made his mind drown in lusty haze entirely.

Hermione’s eyes flipped open. Something warm and nimble probed her intimate folds insistently. Then it pressed against her clit and instantly her pussy was ablaze. Between her breaths, she craned her neck to see what he was doing to her.

“No - you can’t do this,” she gasped, not believing her eyes.

“Why?” he said in a muffled voice, still pressing his lips against her folds. Then he slid deeper between her thighs, devouring her eagerly, which made Hermione gyrate her hips wildly.

“Oh - please - “ she pleaded. “This - is - indecent -”

He looked up at her. “You’re delicious like this.” Merlin, how he loved to test her. Her response made him want more of her.

A blurry memory of their contract rose in Hermione’s lust-crazed brain. Did it say No Oral Sex then? It had been pretty much forgotten by now, but Hermione needed something to help her principles gain a firmer footing in her mind.

“Remember - “ She moaned as his tongue teased her clit again. “ We - did we agree - no oral sex in - the contract?”

Draco ignored her words because her body was telling him otherwise. He parted her folds with his fingers and his tongue delved deeper into her pussy. Her hips bucked against his face, and she was delectably sexy. His cock ached suddenly, and his teeth bit her folds impulsively. Which made her sway her hips and moan loudly.

He was very ready to enter her. Draco straightened up on his knees and brought his member close to her pussy. He took in the view of her, panting and blushing in the depths of the chair, her arms and legs spread over it. He leaned forward and took her mouth in his.

Hermione tasted herself on his lips, and it was insanely carnal. She was in his power and he did with her whatever he pleased. Then an image from The Magical Joys of Kama Sutra crossed her mind, and she turned her head away from him. He stood up, his member now in front of her face. Suddenly she feared him forcing it into her mouth like in that picture in the book.

“No - not this, please,” she begged, her eyes fixed on his face.

Her mouth was enticing, and, for a second, Draco imagined her sweet lips around his cock. But from her expression he doubted she would do it now.

“Didn’t you like my licking your cunt?” he asked and stroked his cock. Then he traced her lips with his forefinger. He had to get inside her before he exploded.

“It’s crazy,” Hermione confessed, as she took the tip of his finger in her mouth and tasted it with her tongue. Her eyes were riveted to his face, avoiding a look at his lower body. His intense gaze searched her features, but he said nothing.

He kneeled again, and she felt his hands slipping behind her back and his member plunging into her body. Her overheated pussy welcomed him eagerly, while she rested herself in his arms.

A few powerful thrusts, and she shattered around him, her torso arching and her limbs straining against her bonds, the soft cuffs holding her wrists and calves in place. Her breasts jiggled, and he caught her nipple in his mouth, sucking at it while her muscles clenched around his cock. In less than a second he screamed his release and buried his face in her bosom.

After he removed her binds and settled in the other chair, she touched herself between her legs. Her skin was embarrassingly hairless. And him taking her intimate folds in his mouth, licking and exploring then in the most shameless way…It was more than just being naked.

“Come here.” Draco gestured for her to sit down in his lap. “You - you are divine. I’m honest, Hermione.”

She basked in his words of admiration and in the robust heat from the fireplace. Serpents carved into the sides of the stone mantelpiece seemed to shift and writhe in the dancing firelight. Hermione got up and walked over to Draco’s chair. As she cuddled in his lap, she kissed him tenderly on his lips, then rested her head on his shoulder and stared into the fire. His arms were around her in an instant, pulling her closer to his torso. She loved it.

Draco breathed in her scent. He loved her so much. Hermione was his joy and his pain. But she would never believe him if he confessed his feelings for her. Too many times she had heard him assure his wretched fiancée of his undying love.

“Sleep in my bed tonight,” Draco demanded. “No one will notice your absence in your dorm.”

Hermione wavered. She did not feel like traversing the draughty and gloomy corridors. But she would have to do that in the early morning anyway to make sure no one would suspect her of spending the night not in her dorm. And she wanted to sleep in a bit…

“Okay. I guess I’d have to get up at six again and get to my dorm before anyone is up.”

They rose from the chair, and, not bothering to get dressed, proceeded to the dorm. Draco waved his wand to move their clothes there.

The dorm was a smaller version of the Common Room, with beds instead of chairs and couches. Like the Common Room, it had a low ceiling, white globe lights and rough stone walls.

Draco’s bed was the only one that had bedding on it. Comforters and old-fashioned striped mattresses were rolled up in bundles on the other beds.

“Merlin‘s bloody pants, whose trunk is it?” Irked by an unwelcome surprise, Draco pointed to a second trunk on the other side of his bed. “That’s Blaise’s bed over there. But he’d never told me of his plans to stay over the holidays!”

Hermione scrutinized the very familiar-looking trunk. Dark brown artificial leather edged with antiqued brass strips. Her heart skipped a beat. She could be wrong. Many students had similar trunks, typically found in department stores.

“Can we open it, Draco?”

“It isn’t mine.” He prodded it with his wand and the lid flipped open.

“It’s mine!“ Hermione exclaimed, looking at the clothes, books and toiletries stashed in it.

“Oh.” He leaned over the open trunk. “Lots of books in here.”

“But how did it get here?” Hermione was flabbergasted. “No one told me I had to move to the Slytherin House.”

“I guess it was implied. Snape’s work, I‘m sure.”

Hermione was more inclined to attribute the idea to the Headmaster, but she held her opinion back. The thought of the teachers covertly watching over them unsettled her again. It was very much like Dumbledore, who never seemed to disclose more than he believed necessary.

“I guess I’m expected to stay here.” Hermione looked at Draco who was now reclining on his bed. She would be sleeping in his bed for the whole break. The realization was titillating and abashing at the same time.

Draco rewarded Hermione with a big grin and instantly pulled her under his comforter. His bed was too cramped for the two of them. Draco cast an expansion charm on it but the bed agreed to widen by half a foot only. Hermione’s attempts did not bring any better results. Instead, Draco’s pillow grew five times its normal length and one end of it was now hanging off the edge. They laughed at the mishap, and soon fell asleep in each other‘s embrace, not bothering to shrink the pillow.

******
Hermione pondered which route to take in the maze of junk accumulated in the Room of Requirement. The huge, cathedral-size hall was crammed with heaps of dust-covered items. Alleys and passages weaved between them.

She was not able to sneak in here the day before. Although they did not have to help in the greenhouses on Sunday, she still spent almost all day in Draco‘s company. They missed breakfast because they took too much time showering together. Hermione remembered how he kissed and fondled her under the streams of warm water, his wet and darkened hair plastered to his forehead, and how he took her against the cool tile wall. A morning had never felt so good.

Today Sprout had asked Draco to help her in the greenhouses after the lunch, effectively releasing Hermione to do whatever she wanted.

Hermione slowly walked down a narrow alley to the left, her eyes skimming over dented boxes, tattered books, chipped bottles and other barely recognizable items in high piles. She stopped in front of something that looked like a heap of old robes and poked it with her wand. A small cloud of dust rose out of it. A garment on the top unfolded, revealing an old-fashioned lace collar. To judge by it, the rags were more than a hundred years old.

Hermione sighed. It would take her forever to inspect the thousands of items stashed in the Room. Besides, she did not want Draco to catch her at it. There was a possibility of his dropping in here after finishing his job in the greenhouses. She wished she had Harry’s Invisibility Cloak or, at least, the Marauders’ Map.

Hermione checked her watch: it was quarter to two in the afternoon. The library was closing in a little over an hour. Hermione resolved to go there and look at a few books, then try to come up with a plan for the Room of Requirement inspection. She turned and quickly exited the Room.

Except for Madam Pince, who was absorbed in re-cataloguing old issues of The Daily Prophet, no one was in the library. Hermione enjoyed the quiet and solitude as she leafed through several books. None of them seemed to have much information on Heorte Lustbaere. She opened the last book, Secrets and Mysteries of British Royalty.

“Wotcher, Hermione!” A soft voice sounded behind her, and Hermione turned her head.

Tonks took the seat next to Hermione. She looked hurried, and her limp hair was falling over her eyes.

Hermione was not sure if she was glad to see Tonks. Although it was reassuring that the Auror was assigned to watch over Draco and her, Hermione earnestly wished that Tonks would do it more covertly. Draco was very much annoyed by his cousin’s popping into view now and then.

Tonks glanced around, and seeing no one close by, leaned towards Hermione, who put her book down.

“You know, Draco might come at any minute,” Hermione warned her.

“Sprout won’t release him until three,” was Tonks’ confident response. She adjusted her elbow and knocked a book off the table. It landed on the floor with a loud ‘thud’. Startled, Tonks almost pushed another book off the edge but Hermione caught it in time. An indistinct hissing emanated from the corner where Madam Pince was stationed.

“Sorry I’m dead clumsy!” Tonks shouted in the direction of Madam Pince, then fished the book from under the table. She drew closer to Hermione and whispered, “Noticed any liquor bottles in Draco’s dorm? Like Firewhisky? Gift-wrapped?”

“Firewhisky? No,” Hermione whispered back. “I can’t open his trunk - it’s jinxed. Why Firewhisky?”

“We guess it‘s Firewhisky. Could be any other booze,” Tonks said quickly. “They questioned Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks. Looked like she had an order to send a gift to Hogwarts.”

“A cursed drink?” Hermione’s heart sunk. “Send to whom?”

“Or poisoned. Rosmerta was all confused and babbling.”

“And who is the target?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you that.”

“Is Draco involved?” Hermione’s palms were cold and clammy.

“He’s under suspicion after the necklace episode.” Tonks sighed. “Rosmerta is kind of messed up. Possible Confundus Charm or worse.”

Hermione held her breath. The last thing she wanted was for Draco to get entangled in another assassination plot.

“Well, I saw him sneaking into the Room of Requirement.”

“The Room of Requirement?” Tonks perked up.

Hermione told her about her encounter in the piles of junk in the Room of Requirement and Draco’s eagerness to make her leave the Room.

“I’ll report it,” Tonks mused. “We’ll search it then.”

“It will take you a year to look through everything there,” Hermione said sardonically. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like.”

“We, the Aurors, have got our methods.” A smile crossed Tonks‘ pale face.

Hermione felt very much like telling Tonks to be more discreet about shadowing Draco and her, but held her tongue. Instead, she held up Secrets and Mysteries of British Royalty and said, “I’d like to go over to Madam Pince and check this book out.”

“Okay, have a good day.” Tonks rose and briskly walked off.

******
“You‘re working fast, Mr. Malfoy.” Sprout smiled, as she surveyed the enchanted miniature boxwood shrubs that Draco was pruning. “All right, you may leave when you’re done with them.”

Draco grinned back. The companion speeding-up charm had worked neatly with any task Sprout had assigned him. Teachers did not approve of the charm since it supposedly impaired the student’s concentration, but Draco pulled it off successfully while Sprout was busy in another greenhouse.

Soon the pots with globe-shaped boxwood plants were stashed on the side table. Draco deposited his dirty gloves and apron in a crate by the entrance. His watch showed half-past two. Hermione was most likely at the library.

The moment he stepped in the library, he glimpsed Tonks sitting next to Hermione in the gap between shelves. Again, his cousin was all over the place! The next minute he surmised it could be to his advantage. He could drop in The Room of Requirement, while they were having their girl chat. He turned on his heels and left the library.

In the Room of Requirement, in front of the Vanishing Cabinet, Draco was jolted from his thoughts by his Galleon vibrating in his pocket.

“U coming home by xmas? DL mad like hell, I caught 5 kids ystrday, DL called me lazy louse.”

“No, got xtra important task here.” Draco was genuinely glad he didn’t have to hunt Muggle kids with Katz for the werewolf meeting and bear the brunt of the Dark Lord’s wrath.

“U must come. DL wants u ASAP. Gave hell ur aunt. She hides at Lestranges.”

“Am not coming. Snape cleared it w/DL. Stop bugging!”

Draco shoved the Galleon back in his pocket. Katz could whine all he wanted and try to get him to pick up some of his load, but Draco was no fool. He scrutinized the warped doors of the Cabinet. They did not close completely, leaving a half-inch gap at the bottom.

The last message from Katz worsened his anxieties a lot. If Auntie Bella was reduced to hiding at her husband’s, whom she barely noticed under normal circumstances, it was not good. He’d better hurry and try to get as much done on the Cabinet, as possible.

Draco checked his watch: it was already past three. He hoped Hermione would not want to investigate The Room of Requirement, but he couldn’t be sure of it. His girl was too inquisitive for her own good. The day before Draco had caught her staring thoughtfully at the wall hiding the Room when he came to meet her outside the Gryffindor Tower.

He needed to take a few precautions. A wave of his wand and incantation, and a thick coat of dust covered the Vanishing Cabinet together with the area around it. No one would be able to see that someone had been here recently.

At the exit, Draco turned and flicked his wand again. More dust settled on the floor in the passage he had just walked through.

Draco found Hermione cosy with a book in a big chair by the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. She greeted him with a smile, but it did not make Draco feel much better. The news from Katz overshadowed his mind like a black cloud.

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione spoke excitedly. “Here’s a chapter on Prince Edward, Duke of Windsor, and it says Heorte Lustbaere was involved!”

“Involved in what?” Draco thought the Heorte Lustbaere thing was already getting old. “Can’t you give it a rest?”

“You must look at this,” Hermione searched for the chapter. “It’s such a mystery.”

“That he hooked up with someone who filched the potion? Not much of a puzzle to me.”

“Mrs. Simpson didn’t steal the potion at all. It’s weirder than that,” Hermione carried on. “The royal family was not happy that Prince Edward had affairs with married women. They found him a fiancée, but he wasn’t interested. So they arranged to feed both of them the lust potion secretly.”

“And the American woman got her hands on the potion first?”

“Not exactly! That’s the mystery,” objected Hermione. “Edward’s mistress, Lady Furness, got tired of her affair with him. She tried to set up the Prince with her American friend, Wallis Simpson. But Simpson dismissed Prince Edward. She was really abrasive with him.”

Draco plopped down in another chair, resigned to sit through Hermione‘s narrative. He stared into the flickering flames.

“And guess what? They had the potion cooked for Prince Edward and disguised in a Bordeaux bottle. But the fiancée candidate left for a vacation in Switzerland the same day, so the potion sat in a cupboard for several days. Then Lady Furness and Wallis Simpson visited Prince Edward, who ordered some wine. The butler served the bottle with Heorte Lustbaere by mistake. Edward and Wallis drank from their glasses first, and when Lady Furness drank from hers, she threw up because it was absolutely undrinkable!”

“Just like Pansy did when I tried to feed her the potion leftovers,” remarked Draco. “No mystery about it either.”

“No, not that.” Hermione persisted. “The mystery is that it sat in a cupboard for awhile. I’m sure many females passed by the cupboard then. But it had to be Wallis Simpson with her complete lack of regard for the British royalty to drink it!”

“You want to say that Heorte Lustbaere is a prank thing?”

“I don’t know. There are other cases when there was no overt animosity between the parties. It’s puzzling.”

“Give it a rest, Hermione. You’ll get a grand headache from thinking too much.”

“Another thing that bothers me,” continued Hermione,” is that they did not seem to recover from the potion effects.”

“Did they drink the antidote with Alban Eilirenne?” Draco asked a little hopefully.

“The book doesn’t say what remedy they used. Seems that they tried a couple of antidotes before King Edward VIII refused to drink any more potions and abdicated the throne.”

“Oh.” Draco would prefer to know for certain that the potion with Alban Eilirenne failed in someone’s case.

“It’s probable that they didn’t know about the Alban Eilirenne antidote. They fired the wizard who prepared Heorte Lustbaere instantly. Then, when Prince Edward’s affair became a scandal, they tried to hire the same wizard to fix the matter, but he was too offended to help.”

“Serves those Muggles right,” Draco said. “They ought to have more respect for wizards.”

“You don’t look happy,” Hermione wondered. “Something happened?”

“I’m hungry. It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Yes, we’ve got to go.” Hermione closed her book readily and walked to the exit.

Draco leafed mindlessly through her book, Secrets and Mysteries of British Royalty, for a few minutes, then departed for the Great Hall too.

After the dinner they lounged in the Slytherin Common Room playing wizard chess. Hermione lost four times in a row. Draco suspected she was preoccupied with the fate of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. If she only knew what problems he was dealing with, he thought. Finally, they called it a day and retired to the dorm.

In bed, behind the closed curtains, Draco nuzzled Hermione’s cheek and nestled his face in the crook of her neck. Her skin was warm, with a milky scent. He wanted to sink into her and escape everything in the world.

Hermione’s fingers stroked his naked shoulders, and his palm cradled her round, luscious breast. She was so good. He would love her, caress her, release himself in her welcoming body, and fall asleep, blissfully tranquil and relaxed, in her arms.

‘Crack’. A weight landed on their feet, and Hermione had a start.

“Get out of here, damn you!” Draco kicked the creature with his foot, hoping for him to disappear before Hermione lit up her wand.

Draco rolled out of the bed. Hermione tried to climb out, but he shoved her back under the covers. “Stay here and don’t move!” he hissed into her face, poking his head under the duvet.

Darfy, the scrawny house-elf, stood on the floor and squinted in the light from Draco’s wand. “Most honoured Bellatrix requests the young Master -”

“Shut up!” Draco yelled at him and glanced at his bed. The curtains seemed to be drawn shut but he couldn’t be sure in the dim light. “Go away, toerag!”

Darfy did not move. “Most honourable Bellatrix -”

‘Whack!’ Draco’s swift kick sent the house-elf, his bony limbs flailing, towards the dorm exit. “Go to the Common Room!”

Darfy scurried out the door. Draco pulled on his thick terry dressing robe and marched into the chilled-off Common Room. Flames burst out and warmth began spreading from the fireplace.

“Most honourable Bellatrix -,” Darfy droned again, “ - requests the young Master’s presence at the Manor now.”

“I’m not coming!” Draco raised his wand. “Tell Auntie if she sends a house-elf again, I’ll blast him into dust!”

“The young Master is not good. The young Master must obey most esteemed Bellatrix.” Darfy stepped closer to Draco and took him by his sleeve.

Protego! The spell threw the house-elf backwards on the hard floor.

“Don’t you try to Apparate me back to Manor, filthy scumbag,” Draco hissed. “Snape talked it over with the Dark Lord himself that I stay at the castle!”

“The Dark Lord is most displeased, most noble Bellatrix says.” Darfy scrambled back on his feet and gave Draco a reproaching look. “Most illustrious Bellatrix says the young Master must not shirk his duties.”

“Get out of here or I’ll blast you!” Draco jabbed the house-elf in his chest with his wand, and Darfy emitted a whimper of pain.

“Stop it, Draco!” Hermione’s voice screeched from behind Draco, and he whipped around. “Don’t hurt your house-elf!”

“Get out of here!” he shouted at her. “It’s none of your business!”

‘Crack!’ Draco turned his head, and his heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. Darfy was gone.

“Shit! Shit!” Draco advanced at Hermione who was glaring at him from under her mop of hair. Dark fury consumed him. “The stinker will report everyone at the Manor that you were in my bed!”

“You have no right to treat him like that!” Hermione was livid. “He’s only carrying the orders!”

“He’s the nastiest house-elf in the whole Manor!” Draco grabbed Hermione’s shoulders and shook her violently. “Do you understand what trouble we are both in?”

“It doesn’t mean you can treat him like dirt!” She pushed him away with all her force and darted into the dorm, the hem of her plaid dressing gown flapping around her ankles.

Draco bolted after her and found Hermione frantically pulling her robes out.

“I’m going to the Gryffindor Tower,” she declared.

“Not in the middle of night.” Draco swished his wand, and her clothes flew away and across the room. “Nobody knows who’s lurking around at night!”

“Excellent.” Hermione was breathing heavily. “I’ll go there in the morning. But now I’ll sleep in another bed.”

“Suit yourself,” was his curt response. He threw his dressing-gown aside, plunked on the bed and pulled his duvet over himself. His girl always was so damn stupid when it came to lousy house-elves, he fumed.

Hermione unrolled the mattress and duvet on the bed farthest from Draco’s. Blood was hammering in her temples. She set the pillow in place and glanced at Draco’s bed. His curtains were drawn shut. Not bothering to conjure bed sheets or take her dressing gown off, she curled up under the duvet. With a flick of her wand, she closed the curtains.

Hermione lay brooding in the dark. Draco, of course, was being his bigoted Pure-Blood self. No matter how much love he showed towards her, he would never have a slightest hint of respect for house-elves or other non-wizards. She shouldn’t expect anything better from him. Once they’re cured from the lust potion effects, he would gladly denounce her as a Mudblood. It made her want to cry. Stupid girl, she thought. She ought not to cry over a Death Eater, no matter how good he was in bed. He simply wasn’t worth it… Then she thought of Ron and Lavender, and it made her want to cry even more. No, it was not right… She had to be stronger than that and devote herself to the fight against the Dark Lord… She’d try to talk to Dumbledore in the morning… Gradually, Hermione’s thoughts slowed down, and sleep overtook her.

Screams of pain jolted Hermione out of her sleep. Her mind foggy, she reached with her hand and pulled the curtain away. “Stop… Stop it!”

Then she realized that it was Draco screaming in pain behind the curtains of his bed, not a house-elf. Hermione bolted out and tore his curtains apart.

Draco was thrashing about, his duvet thrown off to the side. Hermione made the lights come on in the room. He was gripping his left forearm as if it was hurting horribly. The ominously swollen, jet-black Dark Mark glared at her from his skin. Her heart sunk: Lord Voldemort was torturing Draco for his refusal to leave Hogwarts.

She hugged him, trying to recall spells that could help. Hermione cast an incantation that she had overheard from Madam Pomfrey, but it did not make any difference. His head was bumping in agony against Hermione’s shoulder, and she could see his sweaty hair plastered on his forehead. He was gasping for air, and all Hermione could do was to try to console him with soothing words.

“Draco, Draco, I’m here…” she whispered frantically, and pressed her lips against his feverish cheek. He gave a violent jerk, and Hermione stroked his other cheek helplessly. He did not seem to hear her, she thought in despair. Merlin, please, please help him…

Suddenly, his torso convulsed in her arms, and his forehead hit her on her lips painfully. A shriek escaped his mouth, and his body went limp. With horror, Hermione realized that Draco was unconscious. She panicked. She held him in her arms and patted his cheeks, trying to wake him up, but he was listless.

She did not know what to do. She probably ought to run and get Madam Pomfrey. But Hermione was afraid to leave Draco alone for long in case he would get tortured again. She didn’t even know if Pomfrey was in the castle.

She cautiously lowered Draco on the bed and inspected his left arm. The Dark Mark paled considerably and did not look swollen anymore. Hermione prayed it had stopped hurting him.

Aquamenti. Hermione poured water in a goblet on the bedside stand and wet Draco’s forehead. His head moved slightly and he moaned. Hermione kneeled beside him on the mattress.

“Do you want a drink?” She brought the goblet to his lips. “Are you hurting?”

“It’s you…” He shivered and his teeth clattered on the edge of the goblet. “It’s cold…”

Hermione promptly put the goblet back, lay by his side and pulled his duvet over them. His hands were clammy and cold. She put his palms against her abdomen under her dressing gown to warm them up. Draco buried his face in her bosom, and she stroked his hair until she realized that he was already fast asleep.

The clock on the bedside stand showed two in the morning. Hermione wiggled into a more comfortable position, not releasing Draco from her arms. With a wave of her wand she turned the lights off and closed the curtains. Too tired to think about anything, she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

******
Hermione woke up late that morning. As the memory of the previous night surfaced in her groggy mind, she anxiously studied Draco‘s face next to her. He was still asleep but seemed to be alive.

Realizing that it was close to lunchtime, Hermione slipped from under the duvet, trying not to disturb Draco and hurried to the showers. Draco muttered something unintelligible but did not wake up. Hermione made up her mind to talk to Dumbledore right after lunch.

To her disappointment, the Headmaster was not present in the Great Hall. Hermione piled sandwiches on a plate and took them to the Slytherin House.

When she entered the Common Room, Draco was already wide awake and lounging on a couch. Still in his dressing-gown, he looked haggard. With a pang in her heart, Hermione noted that the dark circles under his eyes became even more pronounced.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, setting the sandwiches on a side table. “Was it about the werewolf gathering on Christmas?”

“Yeah. They wanted me to return home.“ Draco sunk his teeth in a voluminous sandwich. His downcast appearance made Hermione feel guilty about the ruckus she had made the last night.

“I guess it‘s why you were so angry.” Hermione settled next to him, watching him eat. Draco swallowed the last of his sandwich, but did not answer. Instead, he tore into another sandwich like it was a mortal enemy.

They heard someone knocking at the entrance. Draco hesitated, then grumbled, “Come in!”

The door appeared in the wall and swung open, revealing Snape. He strolled in, holding under his arm a thick book with several parchments tucked in it.

Hermione tensed up. Snape’s somber expression did not promise anything good.

“Please report to my office in an hour to Portkey home, Mr. Malfoy,” the teacher said emotionlessly.

“Professor Snape -” Hermione started but Snape cut her short.

“You will Portkey home too, Miss Granger. You’ll receive the instructions later in the afternoon.”

“I don’t want to go home!” Draco jumped to his feet. “Leave us alone!”

“Your mother needs you home.” Snape glanced at Hermione and continued, “ She’s having guests at the Manor. If you wish her to stay in good health, you must hurry.”

Draco fell back in his chair. Hermione felt a chill creeping down her spine. Draco’s face was worse than pale. It was ashen.

“I trust I have made it clear enough for you.” Snape looked at them both, but received no answer. He turned and swept out of the room, leaving the couple in heavy silence.

When the door in the wall dissolved, Hermione gripped Draco’s hand.

“Who are the guests, Draco?”

Draco stared at her anxious face but said nothing. How could he explain it to her?

“Tell me, please,” Hermione begged. “Some Death Eaters who threaten to harm your Mum?”

“Worse.” Draco lowered his gaze at his half-eaten sandwich on the plate. “It‘s the Rat.“

“You mean You-Know-Who?”

Draco nodded, his stare still fixed on his sandwich.

Hermione searched his face, but he was motionless. Panic crept into her heart. Something had to be done about it!

“I hate, hate Snape!” she fisted her hands tightly. “We must find Dumbledore now - he will do something!”

“Don’t do it!” Draco snapped. “Dumbledore can’t do anything! He might not be even alive!”

“What do you mean, not alive?” Hermione whispered in horror.

Damn. Draco cursed himself for his slip-up.

“It’s a war out there. Anything is possible,” he explained quickly.

“He wasn’t at the Great Hall today,” Hermione muttered, a bad premonition rising inside her.

“He wasn’t?” Draco wondered if the Headmaster had already received the poisoned gift. After all, tomorrow was Christmas. If everything went according to the plan, it would help Mum and him in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Hope was still there.

“Yes, he was absent.” Hermione paused. “Should we have sex before you leave?”

“All right.” Draco rose and walked to the dorms. Silently, Hermione followed him.

In the dorm, Draco took his dressing gown off and sat down on his bed. Hermione pulled her sweater over her head.

“Wait. “ He hesitated, then confessed, “I can’t do it… I’m so - so drained.”

Hermione flung her arms around him. “Of course - you’ve suffered so - so badly.” She heaved a sob and muttered something else, but Draco barely heard her. He pressed his lips against her cheek, and sat still.

With his mind’s eye he saw the ominous spectre of Lord Voldemort. It was growing bigger and bigger, and it filled the whole room. His glowing red eyes stripped Draco of all of his willpower. Before the Dark Lord he was like a rabbit paralyzed with fear.

“Draco?” Hermione’s voice cut through his stupor. “You probably need a shower? And to pack your trunk?”

“Right.” He slowly rose and headed to the showers.

Hermione hugged herself, as her eyes followed his hunched figure. After a few minutes, she got up too and started putting books in her trunk.

When the trunks were ready and the last of the sandwiches gone, they sat in an embrace on a couch in the Common Room. Their bodies pressed tightly together, as if they were fearing that it could be their last contact.

“I’ll send you a note right after Christmas,” Draco whispered into Hermione’s hair.

After the horrific werewolf party is over. The thought made Hermione want to faint and never wake up.

“Please, please write me as soon as you can,” she whispered back anxiously. “We could meet in Diagon Alley.”

“Yes, yes.” His lips found her mouth and they joined in a desperate kiss.

She watched him look back and give her a quivering smile as he exited the room. In a second he was gone, and the door in the wall disappeared.

Hermione’s hands were shaking. She pressed her palms to her knees to steady them. Absentmindedly, she surveyed the room. Something that looked like a holiday card, lay on the floor close to the entrance.

She walked over and picked it up. It was a Christmas card with gold lettering on it. Joyeux Noel. It looked so Muggle, it was even ridiculous to find it in the Slytherin Common Room. Hermione opened the card:

Mon cher Severus…

The next few sentences were in French, which Hermione did not understand. The only thing she knew was that Joyeux Noel and Bonne Annee meant Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Then she read a few English phrases in a neat bead-like handwriting:

Jean-Pierre enjoys his first job after his studies at Beauxbatons. I reminded him of his British parentage, and he wrote a few words in English for you on this card.

Then the writer informed about the weather in Lyon and finished with the words, “Hope my English is not rusty (rouillé?) Is it correct?”

At the bottom, Hermione read, “Bien a vous P.E.”

She stared at the card in bewilderment. Apparently, it had fallen out of Snape’s book. But why a Muggle card?

Hermione turned the card over and read the untidy scrawl on the back:

Dear Uncle Severus,

My work at the Laboratory is good. I like to make potions. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Sincerely,

Jean-Pierre Evans-Engrenier.

Hermione heard someone coming in and hid the card in her pocket, as she turned around. To her surprise, it was Tonks.

“Draco went home,” Hermione said, wondering what kind of business Tonks could have in the Slytherin House.

“I know. I brought your Portkey. We are leaving in an hour. Are you done packing?”

“Yes, I’ve packed my trunk.” Hermione returned to the couch. “Did you find the Firewhisky?”

“No. We searched the Room of Requirement all night. Nothing that could qualify as a holiday gift.” Tonks chuckled. “Dawlish was excited to find goblin wine someone had hidden there fifty years ago, I think. Unopened.”

“Draco said something about Dumbledore.”

“What did he say?” Tonks yawned and reclined next to Hermione on the couch.

“That the Headmaster might not be alive. He wasn’t in the Great Hall during lunch today.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve just had an owl from him about you and Draco.” Tonks yawned again. “I’m to cover you two. My advice for you: It‘s best to meet in Muggle London. Can you persuade Draco to wear Muggle clothes?”

“Could you be - er - less visible?” asked Hermione. “I don’t think Draco likes to see you so often.”

“Of course,” Tonks agreed readily. “But it would be more suspicious if he discovered me sneaking around. Besides, whoever would want to attack you, wouldn’t want any witnesses present.”

“You-Know-Who tortured Draco last night. Through his Dark Mark,” Hermione said gloomily.

Tonks listened keenly, as Hermione told her about the house-elf visit and the torture.

“Why does Draco stick with his Death Eater family so much?” Hermione asked in desperation. “He hates You-Know-Who!”

“He’s true to the Malfoy creed,” Tonks sighed. “They esteem family loyalty very highly. No bride would be accepted into the Malfoy family if she didn’t prove her devotion to the House.”

“How? You mean your aunt wouldn’t be able to marry Lucius if she wasn’t loyal to him?”

“It’s a part of the Malfoy House magical code. Their family is so small because they cannot have more than one child. They set up some protection to preserve the Malfoy line. Every time a woman marries into the Malfoy House, she must pass a magical test.”

“Oh.” Hermione did not know what to say. No wonder they picked Pansy with her blind devotion. Hermione had an unpleasant feeling of being stuck in something where she didn’t belong at all.

“Draco told me his mother had compromised herself with a Muggle,” Hermione asked cautiously.

Tonks chortled. “My Mum said that the Malfoys always knew what mattered, and what didn’t. Don‘t worry about Draco‘s affections for you, Hermione.”

“I’m not in love with Draco. It’s only that -” Hermione was about to mention the lust potion but halted. She wasn’t sure how much Dumbledore had divulged to Tonks. Heorte Lustbaere was such a criminal thing.

Again, she was trying to deceive everyone, including herself. Hermione knew she had been hopelessly screwed up. Her relationship with Draco was like an addiction, and, worse even, she fouled her job by exposing herself to the enemy‘s house-elf.

Tonks looked at her steadily, and Hermione discerned sadness in her eyes.

“Well, I’m not that good a spy,” Hermione added ruefully. “I should have tried to snoop in his bag or something, but today morning…”

“You are doing okay.” Tonks paused. “It’s hard to love an outsider.”

Hermione wondered if Tonks still mourned Sirius, but said nothing.

“Let me check the dorm. Just in case Draco left anything behind.” Tonks headed to the door. Hermione thought she heard tears in her voice.

Tonks emerged from the dorms in less than fifteen minutes. “All right, your trunk is already on its way to your place. Grab this Portkey, and off we go!”

Tonks held out an empty butterbeer bottle. Hermione placed her hand on it, and Tonks hugged her with her other arm. Hermione felt the familiar sensation of being pulled forward, and the Slytherin Common Room disappeared in an whirlpool of rainbow colours.
**********************************************************************

Author's Notes: I do not speak French, and I looked up the French words online. Please forgive me if they do not make much sense. Here are the translations:

Mon cher - My dear

Rouille - rusty

Bien a vous - Yours sincerely

Also, here is some information on Prince Edward VIII, the Duke of Windsor:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_VIII_of_the_United_Kingdom