The Dragon's Child Bride

The alarm went off at 8:30 but Draco had been up long before that. He was too excited, too nervous to sleep. Game day of the Quidditch Cup always did that to him, even before he’d played for the House team. Since he’d entered Hogwarts, the day of the Quidditch Cup had been the most exciting day of the year, better than Christmas or birthdays. And as Head boy, this was the first year he hadn’t been confined to lay quietly in bed until his other roommates woke up.

He had been up for nearly an hour, cleaning and polishing his broom as well as checking and rechecking it for any problems or imperfections. He went over his Quidditch uniform and guards to make sure they were meticulous. When he was confident everything was perfect, he took a long hot shower.

Toweling off as he walked back into his bedroom, a cursory glance to the half-opened door leading to the front room stopped him. He secured the towel around his waist and stepped into the doorway, pushing the door open entirely.

He found Laylani reading quietly on his couch and smiled. She looked very peaceful, for the moment at least and for that he was grateful. At least she would have a few moments of serenity before finding out how this day would unfold.

“Good morning.” She looked up from her book and smiled back.

“Good morning, Draco.” She crawled over the back of the couch and walked to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and rose on her toes to give him a light kiss. “You should get dressed. Breakfast is in half an hour and you don’t want to play on an empty stomach.” He took her hand so she would follow him into the bedroom.

“Have you been here long?” he asked, pulling on his Quidditch jersey. She shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Not really.” He stopped dressing and eyed her critically.

“How long?”

“Since…well, since four.”

“Laylani!”

“What? It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“So you sat on the couch and read? Why didn’t you get into bed with me?” She frowned.

“Because! Because it wouldn’t have made a difference. Because I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Because I probably would’ve woken you up, and I knew how important it was for you to rest with the game today!” She paused, holding her hand to her head. “Oww.” Draco’s face changed from irritability to concern.

“‘Ow’? What is it? What’s wrong?” He grabbed her head, trying to see any signs of a physical malady.

“Ow!” she yelped. “Draco, it’s just a headache. Stop it! You’re making it worse.” He let go quickly.

“Another headache?” He frowned. She’d had them two or three times during the last week.

“Yes.” she snapped. “It’s probably from stress. Fighting will not help it.”

“Fine!” he barked, turning his back to her and angrily yanking on his trousers. As he moved about the bedroom collecting this and that, he made sure to make as much noise as possible, determined to vent out his frustrations before the game. Anger he could use on the pitch but frustration would only distract him. He’d just slammed his desk drawer when he felt the gentle hand on his shoulder. He didn’t turn.

“I’m sorry.” Laylani waited for him to answer, to give some sort of response. When none came, she continued. “I don’t want to fight. Not today. I know how important this game is to you and I meant to come down here and be sweet as can be, but…I don’t know. I just haven’t been myself lately.” She sighed loudly.

Draco turned around, about to yell at her. Damn right she hadn’t been herself lately, she’d been some sort of lunatic, for Christ’s sake! But then he caught sight of her.

She looked, for lack of a better word, tired. The charm he’d cast yesterday had worn off and the bags under her eyes were clearly visible. She had also lost weight, he was positive; she was wearing the same pink sweater she’d worn the day he’d told her they were supposed to get married and he clearly remembered how well it had shown her curves, almost to the point of being too small. Now it hung loosely around her. And it was his fault.

It was his fault she was still here, suffering, instead of having already been removed to wherever the Order had planned on taking her. He downright refused to lose her again to anyone, and so he’d decided to keep what he knew about her to himself, thus keeping her with him. It would only be until the end of the school year, and then he would take her away from all of this, to where no one would be able to find them until the war was over.

Until then, he supposed he would have to take her temper in stride. He let out the breath he’d intended to yell at her with and cupped her cheek.

“It’s alright, Princess. Everyone’s allowed an off day or two.” She smiled weakly and a look passed between them, silently acknowledging that this had been going on for much longer than ‘a day or two’ but it sounded much better than ‘I can forgive that you’re turning into a raging psychotic.’ He held out his hand to her. “Ready?”

That was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. Was she ready to go to breakfast? Was she ready to face another day feeling like death warmed over? Was she ready to spend what could be an entire day watching Quidditch? Was she ready to do that with Lucius Malfoy? She took his hand.

“As I’ll ever be.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She sat down heavily on the bench at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. They’d stopped at the infirmary on their way to pick up that green headache potion. She’d taken it the minute she’d gotten her hands on the vial and only now was it beginning to work, and nowhere near as well as it had for that first headache. She’d noticed that for the headaches she’d had throughout the week. If she hadn’t known any better, she could’ve sworn she was developing an immunity to it.

But that was ridiculous. It had to be. How on earth could she begin to develop an immunity to it within a single week? It had to be something else. If tolerance to the potion could be developed so quickly, why would witches and wizards bother with it at all? Right? She frowned. She would have to ask. Not Draco, but she would have to ask.

She sighed in relief as the potion finally began to relieve the pain and pressure in her head.

“Feeling better?” Draco asked between forkfuls of scrambled eggs. She smiled as best she could.

“Yes.” He nodded, swallowing.

“Good. You should eat something love, it’s going to be a long day.” She nodded back. It was indeed going to be a long day. She turned back to the spread of food on the table in front of her, trying to decide what to eat; not much seemed to appeal to her anymore.

She frowned when she saw Pansy Parkinson sidle onto the bench directly across from her, crowding a group of fifth years to her right and even squeezing one off the side of the bench on her left. Laylani rolled her eyes and put a slice of toast and a fried egg on her plate.

She’d noticed Pansy had been around a lot more during the last week. Laylani had seen her skulking outside her classes where Pansy had not been before, often about during the afternoons. She’d even seen her once or twice while she entered and exited her portrait. It was annoying, but nothing more than an annoyance. Laylani had far too many other troubles than to worry about pathetic Pansy Parkinson.

Laylani ate only a small portion of what she’d put on her plate, pushing the rest around with her fork while trying to search out Hermione at the Gryffindor table. If anyone would know about potions and immunities, it would be her. She spotted the bushy hair easily. It was like a beacon.

Her eyes perused the rest of her friends sitting around the Head Girl, all except Lavender clad in their Quidditch uniforms, and she smiled. She almost wished she could sit in the Gryffindor stands with Lavender and Hermione, just to spend some time with her girlfriends whom she’d been a bit neglectful of lately. They’d only gotten together once earlier that week for about an hour or so, and she sorely missed them. However, with the headaches and the moodiness, it just seemed easier to stay away.

Either way, sitting with them would not be an option. Aside that she was supposed to be sitting with Lucius and Narcissa, it would look bad to sit with the opposition of the team her fiancé was the captain of. And Malfoys were all about image.

Her mind began to drift again, seemingly losing itself in empty space. She thought of nothing, not even the passage of time. The sudden movements of those around her startled her out of her reverie to realize she‘d been sitting there blankly for nearly five minutes that seemed like nothing. Breakfast had ended and the students rose to leave the Great Hall. The signature Weasley red hair caught her attention again at the double doors leading out of the hall. She frowned slightly for a moment and considered what to do next.

“I’ll wait for you in the hall, okay?” She said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before darting away from the table and out the doors before he could have a chance to protest.

Laylani caught up with them, just before they went out the door down to the pitch. Harry made to leave without Ron and Ginny, but Ron grabbed him by the arm. She slowed to a halt in front of them, wiping away a stray tendril of hair and tucking it behind her ear. She smiled nervously.

“Um, look. It, it would be bad form for me to cheer for you guys during the game but, ah, good luck, alright?” Ginny smiled.

“Thanks.” Harry plainly rolled his eyes for Laylani to see, chasing away her small smile.

“We don’t need it. Come on, you guys.” Laylani pressed her lips to a tight line, trying to steel herself to mimic her fiancé’s easy detachedness, but the hurt in her eyes was easy to read. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I see.” That was all she could muster before she sensed her voice would falter. She spun on her heel and walked away quickly, never turning back lest Harry see her eyes brimmed with tears. She refused to cry. Not anymore, not for Harry. Still, it didn’t stop her from releasing a breathy sob as she rubbed her eyes clear.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The game started in less than fifteen minutes and the stands had begun to fill. Laylani sat amongst the teachers in their box, a free space on either side of her for Lucius and Narcissa, for whom she was anxiously waiting in the front row. Draco had dropped her off in the stands ten minutes earlier with a fiery kiss ‘for luck’ and the advice not to worry. Easy for him to say. Still, she did the best she could to be calm.

As she waited, she furtively took a look at those around her, not all of whom were teachers. Laylani knew some of them must be parents to the other members of both Quidditch teams. She spotted what had to be Ron and Ginny’s parents further down her row; the shock of red hair was unmistakable. And she was almost certain there were members of the press, easily identifiable with their Quick Quotes Quills and enormous cameras with even bigger flashes. It wasn’t surprising, really; Hogwarts was the only wizarding school in Great Britain, this event had to be of some local sport interest. But there were a few people she couldn’t place. A few men with notepads and quills at the ready were dotted throughout the crowd and for the life of her, Laylani could not fathom who they were and why they were there.

Photographers flashes went off sporadically around her as they photographed parents and teachers, but so far none of her. She wore the cloak Draco had lent her with the hood pulled up, covering as much of her face as possible which seemed to work in keeping her unidentifiable and that was how she wanted it. Still, once Narcissa and Lucius arrived, she knew it would be impossible to escape the match without her picture being taken at least once.

All at once the popping of flashes increased ten-fold and she knew that they had arrived. This was it. She sat stiffly, repeating every calming thing she could think of under her breath. This would be fine. Lucius would not hurt her. Lucius could not hurt her. She was safe here.

Safe.

The Malfoys moved with the quiet dignity of the elite that simply commanded the attention of all and that was what they got. They exchanged small pleasantries with those of their circles and haughtily ignored the rest including, Laylani noticed, the Weasleys. She kept her head down as they approached her. Laylani held her breath as she resignedly lifted her hood up and off as she stood up. She put on her practiced smile and greeted them.

“Hello, Narcissa, Lucius. It’s so nice to see you again.” Narcissa kissed her cheek lightly as she hugged her.

“It’s nice to see you too, darling.” Narcissa took the seat furthest to the left which, Laylani realized, meant that no matter what she would be sitting next to Lucius. She stood in front of Lucius with her eyes cast down, unable to look at him properly.

“Hello, Lucius.” She couldn’t help but flinch slightly, she hoped imperceptibly to the press, as she saw his hand reach forward in her peripheral vision. But instead of moving to strike or grab her, he simply took gentle hold of her hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss there.

“Laylani.” She waited until he let go of her hand before quickly retreating to sit on the bench, angled distinctly towards Narcissa and immediately engaged in conversation to avoid speaking to Lucius.

Lucius sat back, frowning. That had not gone nearly as well as he’d hoped. Granted, he knew it could have been much, much worse, but still a small part of him had hoped that she would have forgiven him by now. After all, he had apologized. Additionally he’d offered to give her anything she’d wanted, anything at all, and when no request had been returned, it led him to the possibility that perhaps he need not worry.

Obviously he’d been wrong. Laylani had actually flinched at his touch. Still, he would find a way to smooth it over before the day was done. He always did; he was Lucius Malfoy for Merlin’s sake.

“Laylani dear,” spoke Narcissa. “What happened to the cloak I bought you in October? The green lining brought out your lovely eyes.” Laylani hesitated.

“I ah, I lost it.” Narcissa frowned.

“You really need to take care of your possessions; you’re far too old for this kind of thing.” She paused, scrutinizing the girl’s outer robe. “Isn’t that Draco’s cloak?”

“Yes. He lent it to me.”

“Laylani, it’s far too large for you, a very unbecoming look. I think it would be best if you took it off.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. It’s a lovely day.” Narcissa reached for the clasp fastened at her neck. Laylani moved back to evade Narcissa’s hand and moved into Lucius making her jump forward again.

“No! I only got out of the infirmary a week ago and Madame Pomfrey says if I’m not careful I could easily get sick again.” Narcissa’s frown deepened.

“Narcissa,” spoke Lucius, “If she wants to wear the cloak, don’t press the matter.”

“Sick? When were you ill?” Laylani had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Hadn’t they told the Malfoys of her bout of pneumonia? ‘There’s no reason the school wouldn’t tell them.’ she thought. ‘At least none they’re aware of…’ She’d assumed the faculty would have at least sent the Malfoys a note or something. “Laylani, darling, what did you have?” Narcissa had immediately gone into mothering mode, stroking her hair and pressing her hand against the girl’s forehead.

“Narcissa, please don’t worry. I’m fine now, it doesn’t-”

“Laylani.” Her name was spoken sternly, in a definite motherly tone that meant no nonsense.

“Anaerobic pneumonia.” she answered quietly, hoping the technical term might throw her off a bit. No such luck.

“Pneumonia?” screeched Narcissa. Conversations taking place around them hushed and heads turned. Narcissa flushed a slight shade of pink before flashing her trademark ‘everything-is-really- really-perfect‘ smile. “Pneumonia?” she hissed quietly. “You were in the infirmary with pneumonia and the school didn’t contact us? My goodness! Why, they sent us a note when Draco had to take the afternoon off for a bout of the flu, and they didn’t notify us that you had pneumonia? I can only imagine what kind of bed rest that would entail! Lucius, can you believe this?”

Lucius felt distinctly uncomfortable, shown only in a faint wavering of his usual cool regard. As slight as it was, it did not go unnoticed by Narcissa. One did not spend more than half their life with another and not be able to read their actions. Her eyes went wide before snapping back to slits.

“They did send a letter, didn’t they, Lucius?” She made a small noise of disbelief. “I don’t believe it. You knew, didn’t you? You knew Laylani was in the infirmary and you kept it to yourself! Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me something that was obviously so very important?” Narcissa was up and out of her seat by now, practically shouting.

“Narcissa, darling.” he said tersely, “You’re making a scene. Please sit down, love, we’ll discuss this at home.”

Narcissa glowered but sat back on the bench, muttering “You can bank on it.”

At last, Dumbledore took his place in the staff seating and the preliminary procedures of the game began. The announcer, a position filled by Gryffindor’s Seamus Finnegan, took his position behind the scoreboard and podium in the right-hand corner of the teachers’ stands and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, ladies and gentleman! And what a wonderful morning for Quidditch it is. The sky is clear without a hint of poor weather in sight.” Seamus continued his innocuous banter, waiting for the signal that the teams were taking to the pitch.

“I do hate those long-winded Gryffindors.” mumbled Lucius, more to himself than anyone else though it was clearly heard by those around him. “Don’t you agree, Laylani?” he asked, turning to her with a smile, clearly intended to charm her.

Her eyes darted to him quickly, without turning towards him, and returned to gaze out at the empty pitch. “Hmm.” she answered noncommittally. Seamus’ voice broke out in new vigor.

“And the teams are entering the pitch! On the left we have Gryffindor!” All stands but Slytherin’s burst into enthusiastic cheering as Seamus listed off their name, pausing for dramatic effect before shouting “And last but certainly not least, Gryffindor team captain and seeker Haaaaryyy Potter!” The energetic cheers doubled as Harry trotted out on to the field with his team.

As if nearly forgetting himself basking in the glory of Gryffindor’s Golden Boy, Seamus had to be poked to be reminded there was another team.

“And on the right,” he added hastily and far less enthusiastically “There’s the Slytherin team.” The Slytherin stands cheered raucously, most likely to make up for their lack of numbers against those who cheered for Gryffindor who now only clapped politely.

“And finally, Slytherin’s team captain, seeker and Hogwarts Head Boy, Draco Malfoy!” The cheers increased dramatically, mostly from the female population whom, between Draco and Laylani, were referred to as his fan harem. Even from where she sat, Laylani could see Draco practically beam. These things always went right to his head.

The teams mounted their brooms and circled over the pitch. Laylani watched as acting referee Madame Hooch gave her usual ‘I want a fair game’ speech before tossing up the Quaffle and the game began.

“Chaser Ginny Weasley has caught the Quaffle and immediately takes off for Slytherin territory. Slytherin Chaser Baddock coming up on her right . Miss Weasley moves into a fine Porskoff Ploy and - Oh! Is blindsided by Slytherin Goyle’s bludger and Baddock takes the Quaffle!”

The dazed Ginny went into a tailspin but managed to collect herself to pull up at the last second, rejoining the game. The Weasley parents in the stands were on their feet, screaming for Madame Hooch to call a foul.

“That was a deliberate attempt on my baby’s life!” screamed the stout Mrs. Weasley.

“Really, now.” called the smooth voice of Lucius, “If she can’t handle the game she shouldn’t be on the pitch.”

Whatever the Weasleys said next was drowned out by the building cries of the spectators. Seamus’ voice was livid.

“And with an unfortunately legal back-pass, Baddock passes to Nott and Nott scores. Ten points to Slytherin.”

Laylani cheered enthusiastically, trying to search out Draco overhead. She found him hovering over one of the Hufflepuff stands, eyes continuously scanning the field for any sight of the snitch. She smiled at him, but knew he wouldn’t see her. He was far too absorbed in the game.

The game went on. Soon enough the Quaffle was again in Slytherin possesion.

“In a highly suspicious and likely illegal move whether Madame Hooch saw it or not, Baddock takes the pass from Crabbe’s bat and is quickly taking the Quaffle to Gryffindor’s goalposts. Stopping mere feet from post three he shoots - and Keeper Ron Weasley executes an amazing block, and chaser Euan Abercrombie takes possession.”

Laylani watched on as the boy who Seamus had identified as Abercrombie quickly moved across the pitch, ducking and weaving through the opposition and their bludgers. The roar of the crowd rose as he approached the Slytherin goalposts. The Quaffle came up in with his arm in an arc preparing to throw and the Slytherin keeper, a sixth-year named Caleb Dolby, readied to block. But instead of completing the throw, Abercrombie let the Quaffle drop out of his hand, downward to be caught by Ginny who’d flown up unnoticed beneath him and scored through the opposite goalpost.

The game continued, and soon Gryffindor was ten points ahead, then twenty. After thirty, Slytherin scored another goal, but still it was rather disheartening. For the next hour, the game remained stagnant, the Quaffle never making it much further than the center of the pitch before it changed hands and reversed directions.

Laylani shifted uneasily in her seat. She’d been sitting for nearly two and a half hours and her bum was starting to hurt against the sturdy but uncomfortable wooden bench. But what put her most ill at ease was the attempts at conversation Lucius continually instigated. His choice of topics ran the gamut from the weather to the game, to their upcoming wedding to how she thought she might redecorate the Manor once she and Draco took it as their own home. The conversations were awkward and stilted, and none lasted over a minute.

Lucius was becoming increasingly frustrated. Why wasn’t this working? What was wrong with this girl? What did she want from him? Didn’t she see he’d already degraded himself by apologizing? Wasn’t that enough? Fortunately before Lucius could try another failed line of conversation, Seamus enthusiastic voice cut in.

“Slytherin seeker Draco Malfoy begins a sharp climb with Gryffindor Harry Potter in hot pursuit! Ladies and gentlemen the snitch has been spotted and I think it would be fair to say that we’ve entered the final and most exciting moments of our game!”

Laylani watched with her heart in her throat as both men went after the snitch. The game around them had seemingly come to a standstill as all eyes were locked on the two seekers as they chased the snitch around the pitch, following it through it’s many twists and turns. At last the fluttering golden orb went into it’s last steep and powerful dive with Draco and Harry in pursuit, angling their brooms almost directly into the earth with arms outstretched. Laylani was up and on her feet, pressing herself hard against the railing in desperation to get closer and get a better view.

The entire stadium was still with baited breath as both boys got closer and closer to what would inevitably be a dramatic and painful end. They were mere inches away from hitting the ground and a look was exchanged between the two of them, silently acknowledging that this was it and neither one would pull back now. Then their brooms and the ground met in the most violent way and the two men rolled onto the green grass of the pitch.

The gasp of the spectators was audible. Laylani bit her lip to the point of breaking skin as the two boys remained on the ground unmoving. Why weren’t they moving? She wondered. ‘Oh God, oh God let them be alright.’ Finally, after what seemed like forever, the two figures stirred. Harry moved back into a sitting position and looked to be breathing heavily. Draco managed to get on both feet, standing unsteadily. The crowd looked on.

Draco held up the snitch high over his head.

The stadium roared into cheers of victory and cries of disappointment. Laylani was ecstatic, jumping and cheering like a madwoman. Suddenly Draco doubled over, clutching his shoulder and Laylani’s cheers of delight stuck in her throat. Merlin, he was hurt.

Draco grimaced as he righted himself, picking up his broom in his good hand and took up with his teammates, joining in their wild celebration. They had just done the unthinkable; Slytherin had won the Quidditch Cup against the Gryffindor champions of six straight years. Slytherins graduating class would go out with a taste of victory that had been so long denied. Draco even managed a smile despite his pain as the team carried him off the field.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The stands began to empty, everyone seeming to have forgotten that another team had played today and lost. Harry stayed where he sat on the field, feeling disappointed but more than anything feeling that he had disappointed everyone else.

He’d started this life in a place where nothing was expected from him but failure and he’d had nothing to prove he had worth. Since he’d come to the wizarding world everything he’d done had come with what seemed like impossibly high expectations and he’d always been able to reach them. He mattered here, and the talents he had made him special and perhaps he hadn’t always liked the stigma that came with that but despite it all, his successes gave him a sense of value. And now, he felt a failure. He was nothing once again.

“Y’alright there, mate?” Harry looked up to the source of the voice. It was Ron, standing over him and offering him his hand. Harry took it to pull himself up and tried to force a grin. It didn’t work.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Ron grinned, slinging his arm over Harry’s shoulder.

“Good. You played a wicked game.” Harry looked at him incredulously.

“Are you kidding? We lost!” Ron shrugged, his face neutral

“You can’t win ‘em all. Besides, it was a great game.” Harry opened his mouth to argue but another voice cut him off.

“He’s right. The game was amazing.” It was the one of the team’s chaser Dean Thomas.

“Don’t you care that we lost?”

“Well sure, but that’s how it goes.” Harry perked up slightly. It was true. Every game they had ever gone into, they ran the risk of losing. Just because they usually hadn’t didn’t make it any worse now that they had.

Yes. He could come to accept that, in time at least.

He walked back to the Gryffindor locker rooms, feeling better and better as the moments passed. Still, as he stood showered and changed in the nearly empty locker room, a small sigh of sadness escaped him. This was it, this was the end of his Quidditch career and it had to end like this. A small hand on his chest brought him out of his thoughts. It was Ginny.

“You played a great game, Harry. Remember that.” She lifted herself up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and left.

Harry stood a moment longer in the empty change room, his hand lifting seemingly of its own accord and his fingertips traced where sweet little Ginny, whom he’d always so easily remembered from his first year, clutching her mother’s hand with her hair in pigtails, had just kissed. The skin seemed to crackle with electricity and tingled with a feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A feeling he’s never thought that even in his wildest dreams he would ever ascribe to Ginny Weasley.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Laylani moved quickly to escape the swarm of people, desperate to get to the Slytherin locker room where she and Draco had arranged to meet once the game has ended. She waited impatiently, hopping from foot to foot as the crowd of family and friends awaiting the team grew and she tried to keep herself from worrying over whether Draco was alright. She was sure he was fine. Really.

Draco was first out of the change rooms, bursting out the door with a smile on his face and a makeshift sling holding up his wounded arm. While crowd roared their approval and flashbulbs went off like mad, he waved to them with his good arm before using it to lift up Laylani in a sound kiss. She pulled away quickly.

“Draco, put me down, you’ll make it worse!”

“I’ll be fine, Princess. It’s just a dislocated shoulder. That’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t take care of.” She relented with a small grin and a sigh.

“Alright. Congratulations, Dragon.” With a hand on his cheek, she brought his face downwards towards her so she could kiss him without leaning against him. “I told you you’d win.” He let out a bark of a laugh.

“I’ll never doubt you again.” He laughed again then winced, his laughter inadvertently jarring his shoulder. Laylani sobered slightly.

“We should probably get you to the infirmary.”

“Well, I said I’d wait for Mum.”

“She and Lucius are ‘socializing.’ I’m sure they’ll figure out where we are.”

“Alright.” They began to walk towards the school, amid the popping flashes and shouts.

“You’re doing a lot better you know.” he commented offhandedly as she held the door open for him.

“Ha!” she said, thinking that if anything she’d only become more worse for the wear over time.

“No, I mean at dealing with the reporters and photographers. We held an entire conversation with them watching and you didn’t even bat an eye.” It was true. Laylani smiled.

“You know you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” She rolled her eyes.

“It’s nice to know you’re good for something.” He chuckled and used his good arm to catch her around the waist and pull her close.

“Is that all I’m good for?” he teased, his hand slipping under her cloak to skim lightly upwards over her stomach towards her breast. She moved away quickly.

“That’s all your good for right now. Come on, the sooner you get to the infirmary, the sooner you can celebrate with your friends.” Despite how she tried, he pulled her back to him and began pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from the junction of her neck to that sensitive spot just under her ear that always made her shiver.

“I’d rather celebrate with you.” Laylani felt herself beginning to melt into him until she accidentally bumped his injured arm, causing him to hiss slightly in pain. She pulled out of his grasp and resumed walking towards the infirmary.

“If you don’t get that arm of yours fixed up, you’ll be ‘celebrating’ by yourself.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he called from behind her, walking quickly to catch up. She laughed.

“Good then.”

They met Madame Pomfrey at the doors of the infirmary.

“There you are, Mister Malfoy. I imagined you’d be joining me soon enough. Dislocated shoulder? I thought so.” He furrowed his brow.

“How did you know I was even hurt?” Madame Pomfrey laughed.

“My dear, do you think all I do is medicine? I do have other interests, Quidditch being one of them. Now, how does it feel?”

“It hurt but it’s mostly numb now, it only hurts a lot when it gets jostled.”

“Alright, we’ll need to remove your cloak then we’ll do the reduction. Basically we’ll be putting your shoulder back into the joint socket. It’ll be rather uncomfortable procedure, but once it’s done you should feel no pain. Then we’ll cast an immobilization charm on your shoulder so the potions for stabilizing and tightening the ligaments can work properly. It should only take an hour or so.” Draco sighed.

“All right then.” He turned to Laylani. “You can leave if you like.” She shrugged.

“I might as well stay. It’s not like I have much else to do.”

“But Father and Mum-”

“I’d really rather stay.” He grinned.

“Okay.”

With a little effort and a lot of complaining, Draco took off his robe and Laylani helped him onto a cot and sat down next to him, on the side opposite of the injury. In that time Madame Pomfrey had gone into her office and come back with a long strip of material.

“Now Mister Malfoy, Miss Stanners here will use this to tie you-” Draco cut her off.

“All right.” he laughed, smirking lecherously. Madame Pomfrey chuckled dryly.

“Hardly. As I was saying, Miss Stanners will use this to tie around your upper body and then around herself to stabilize your torso while I reset the joint.” Laylani tied the band tightly to her waist before tying it under his arms.

“Kind of kinky, huh?” he joked while she tightened the knot.

“Not really; I’m already tied to you anyway.” she answered with a wry grin.

Laylani leaned over and planted her hands on the edge of the cot to properly support herself. Madame Pomrey undid Draco’s sling and slowly extended his arm towards her. “Brace yourself, Mister Malfoy.”

He scoffed. Then she began lean back slowly, applying traction.

Draco bit back a cry and he gripped the side of the cot so tightly his knuckles were white. His face contorted in pain, making Laylani’s heart break for him. She inched one hand over until she could use her pinkie and ring finger to brush over the back of his hand to try and comfort him. He opened his eyes for a moment to look at her and almost managed a smile before Madame Pomfrey rotated his arm slightly.

“Holy fucking hell!” he grit out.

“There we are, all done.” said Madame Pomfrey and let go of his arm. He brought it in slowly and rested it over his stomach as Laylani leaned over to undo the knot over his chest; she dropped a quick kiss on his forehead and he smiled to her.

Madame Pomfrey cast a section-specific immobilization charm on his shoulder which would render it motionless for the next hour so the potions she gave him would work to their maximum capacity.

“You may wish to rest up a bit, Mister Malfoy. I imagine you have quite a celebration ahead of you.” Madame Pomfrey left, closing the privacy curtains as she went.

“You heard the lady. You wanna celebrate?” he joked tiredly.

“Maybe later.” she answered with a soft smile. “I’m going to go back to my room and get ready.” She didn’t know exactly what she was readying for, but he looked like he could use a good nap and she wouldn’t keep him from it. He nodded.

“Alright. I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Sounds good.” She bent over and kissed him once more. “Congratulations, Draco.” She walked to the curtain.

“Thanks, pet.” She smiled back at him one last time before closing the privacy curtain. She arrived at the door to meet both Narcissa and Lucius at the infirmary doors.

“I trust he’s quite alright?” Narcissa asked. She’d learned long ago not to fret too much over her son. She loved him with a ferocity that knew no bounds, but, as she had learned, boys will be boys. Draco had gotten himself into many scrapes over his near eighteen years and he’d always come out fine.

Laylani nodded. “Yeah-” Narcissa gave her a look. “I mean, yes. He had a dislocated shoulder, but he’s fine now; Madame Pomfrey reset it. He’ll have to stay here for about another hour though to let her potions work. He’s resting now, but I don’t think he’s asleep quite yet if you want to go and see him.” Narcissa nodded.

“I’ll see you next week, dear?” Laylani nodded again.

“Of course.” Narcissa smiled in parting and walked towards the closed curtains. Without a second glance to Lucius, Laylani tugged open the heavy doors of the infirmary and stepped into the hall, walking away with quick steps.

She heard the door open behind her and her name called. She was tempted to ignore him, but couldn’t. She stopped and did a slow turn around. She waited until he stood in front of her.

“Laylani dear, I have something for you.” Laylani took a cautious step back.

“What is it?”

Lucius reached into his cloak and pulled out something; she wasn’t sure what, but it fit into the palm of his hand. He muttered a quick ‘Engorgio’ and the small bit of black grew until it was all too obvious what it was: Her cloak. He’d kept it since that night. Her stomache turned just looking at it.

“I-I don’t want it.” she said softly. Lucius scowled.

“Then what the hell do you want?” he yelled, grabbing her hard by the shoulder and throwing her cloak to the ground violently. “I offered you anything, any goddamn thing you want and you don’t ask for a fucking thing and still have the nerve to hold a grudge?”

Laylani was shocked, but almost immediately her surprise turned into anger. He was trying to fucking buy her off? Was that what it had been this entire time? She could’ve forgiven him eventually for what he had tried to do; he had let her go for whatever punishment he was supposed to suffer and she could appreciate that. But the fact that he was trying to buy her forgiveness was despicable. She was livid.

“That’s it?” she yelled. “That’s fucking it? This whole goddamn time you were trying to fucking buy my forgiveness?”

“Laylani-”

“Shut up! That’s all you’ve wanted to do, isn’t it? You just thought you could waltz in here with your fucking money and buy yourself some fucking peace of mind and that I would just eat out of the palm of your hand? Goddamn you, Lucius Malfoy! Do you really think that little of me?” She waited for some sort of answer but he merely looked at her as if she were utterly mad. She hissed out an angry sigh.

“I don’t believe it. I don’t fucking believe it. You really think this shit is okay, that this will all go away with a few nice words and a present or two? You don’t fucking get it, do you! How - How could you-? What the hell…?” She sputtered herself into a growl. “Goddamn you.” she spat before turning her back on him and walking away.

Lucius didn’t know what to say. What else did she want? She didn’t want gifts, and his apology didn’t seem to be enough. What else was there?

“Now, Laylani, isn’t there some way we could smooth this over?” Laylani’s shoulders fell. That’s all he knew, wasn’t it? He wasn’t about to try and earn her forgiveness, he would only buy it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I hate you.” she muttered quietly, seething at Lucius with everything in her being. “I hate you, I hate you I hate you.” Her brisk, nearly running steps, echoed heavily through the stairwell and then the hall. The harsh sound breaking through the pristine silence of the school’s empty halls made her feel good, well, better at least. The thunderous noises seemed angry, just like her and after all, misery loves company.

She stopped short just below the last set of staircases that would take her to the hall where her portrait was located. Laylani made sure she was really and truly alone, that the halls were entirely empty. Once sure that there was no one else but her, she spoke out loud: “I hate you.” Loud enough that it could be heard had she been in regular conversation.

“I hate you.” she said it again, louder still. It felt good. “I hate you. I hate you! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” She was screaming, nearly on the verge of hysteria, and it felt…good. It felt good to scream, to indulge this hate. Not to assuage it or vent, but to revel in it, just for a few brief moments. She never really let herself be hateful. A long time ago she’d come to the realization that it really didn’t change things and it only made her feel worse. But somehow, only God knew why, this felt good. Really good. Like a release. She could feel weeks worth of pent-up tightness and frustration flowing out of her as she let her hatred overcome her. If this is how it felt to be hateful, she’d have to consider indulging in it more. Maybe.

It couldn’t be so bad, could it? Just to let herself be angry, let herself hate while she was alone? That really didn’t harm anyone did it? No, it couldn’t, not really. In fact, maybe it was therapeutic to let herself feel hate like this, let it consume her when there was no one else around. Yes, it had to be. She had had just a few moments, and felt immensely better. That should be enough now.

She stepped through her portrait and slammed it with a deafening ‘bang’ and smiled. Alright, now she was done. Now it was enough.

She sat back on her couch and lit the fireplace. She sat blankly for a few seconds, staring at the walls and took note of all the pictures with Lucius. She frowned. Laylani didn’t want to be under his eyes in her own rooms, even if they were only photos. She got to her feet and studied the various frames, most containing several photographs, many not of Lucius.

She thought for a moment. She didn’t want to take them down. Many were happy memories, without Lucius. After a few silent minutes of thought it came to her. Laylani went to the first picture, one solely of Lucius, sitting on the shore somewhere, probably at the lake on the Malfoy property. She put her finger on the picture and, drawing up her focus, blacked it out.

She bit her lip, looking at the black square among the other photos. Quickly she reversed it, just to make sure she could. It worked perfectly. With a relieved sigh, she blacked it out again, and then continued to blank the others, ignoring the sadness of the photographed faces as she did so.

The room had heated up considerably since she’d lit the fire, so she shucked her pink sweater and sat back on the couch in just her black camisole. She checked the clock; she had at least another half hour until Draco arrived. She would change later. She picked up her Arithmancy textbook and began to work through the first divinations of over fifty situations given that had been assigned for the weekend.

She worked diligently over the next half hour, working through more than fifteen problems before the opening of her portrait startled her. It was Draco.

“Hey. Feeling better?”

“Absolutely.” He did a full rotation of his shoulder as if to prove it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Um, just give me a second, I have to find a shirt.”

“Why? I like you in that.”

“Because,” she answered, rising off the couch, “We’ll be in the dungeons and you know how drafty it gets down there. I don’t want to get sick again.” Draco looked thoughtful for a second and removed his Quidditch robe.

“Here.” He helped slip it on her. “Perfect.” She smiled down at the oversized green robe. At least he’d used a cleansing charm on it.

“Thanks, Dragon.” She took his hand and followed his lead to the dungeons and the celebration that awaited him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Slytherins had held off from celebrating until their guest of honor had arrived. Truly, the celebration wouldn’t be complete without the man who’d guided their team to its final glory, and almost single-handedly attained it. When he finally stepped through the portrait, nearly an hour and a half after everyone else, a great cheer rose up through the crowd that had been anxiously awaiting his arrival

When Slytherin celebrated, they did it right; team members parents had owled and flooed over all kinds of extravagant food and drink that would not be found or afforded in Hogsmeade. Almost immediately upon their arrival, both Draco and Laylani were handed flutes of champagne, with Laylani thought was just outrageous but if it was there, why not? She giggled on her first sip, unaccustomed to the many bubbles that felt like they burst in her mouth.

Once they finished their glasses, a bottle of firewhiskey made its way over to them and Draco uncorked it before taking a long drink of it and handing it to her. She took a long swig of her own, her palate much more accustomed to the burning of the alcohol than that first night. Still, it didn’t take much before she began to feel its effects. She leaned against his shoulder and smiled up at him.

“I feel like dancing.” His brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Dancing. You know, where people get together and move rhythmically to the beat?” He laughed.

“There’s no music.”

“You could always hum.” she suggested playfully before collapsing back on the soft leather sofa. He watched her for a moment before sitting down next to her and pulling her close.

“You look beautiful like that you know.”

“In your Quidditch robe?” She laughed. “Don’t I always look beautiful?”

“No! I mean yes, but I meant like that, when you’re happy. Your smile’s just….” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Careful, Dragon.” she teased. “People will think you’re going soft.” She sat thoughtfully for a second. She felt happy. Her mind was blissfully, drunkenly blank, not muddled or confused. She felt…at peace.

“We deserve to be happy, don’t we, Dragon?” He smiled down at her and her seemingly innocent question.

“More than anyone else, I’d think.” She was silent for a moment longer then stood up abruptly.

“I’ll be right back.” Draco frowned.

“Where are you going? Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, love, I’ll be fine. I just thought of something. I’ll be back in a minute.” He frowned, unsure of her vague reasons.

“I’d really rather go with you.”

“Draco, don’t be paranoid. I can take care of myself.” His frown only deepened.

“At least tell me where you’re going then.” Laylani rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I’m going to the owlery.”

“Alright but if you aren’t back in five minutes, I’m going after you.” Annoyed as Laylani was with that statement, she wasn’t in the mood to argue it.

“Okay. I’ll be back in five minutes.” Draco fetched her a piece of parchment and a quill then walked her to the doorway and, unbeknownst to her, waited there until she got back.

Laylani rushed down the empty hallways to the owlery, and scribbled the note hastily against its door.

***

Alright Lucius. I’ll give you what you want. Buy my forgiveness and your redemption if you think it’s that easy. Until graduation, I expect three bottles of firewhiskey delivered to me every week. And a bottle of wine; don’t cop out on me Lucius, I expect something nice. I don’t care how you get it here. That’s not my problem.

Laylani.

***

She tied it tightly to the leg of the first owl that made itself available and watched it fly off into the inky blackness of the night. She then returned to the dungeons and to Draco. He cast her a questioning glance.

“Don’t worry, love. From now on, we’re going to be a lot happier.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They stumbled through his portrait hours later, laughing and giggling at nothing at all. The celebration had been wild to say the least. Draco and Laylani his cheered and sung until their throats were raw. They’d drank until they could barely walk, and then began a snog session so heated they’d attracted an audience. That’s when Draco had suggested they return to his quarters.

Draco grabbed her hand and attempted to lead her to the bedroom when he tripped over his own two feet and fell. They laughed and Laylani had offered him a hand to try and pull him up but instead he pulled her over and she landed on top of him in a tangling of limbs. Their laughter doubled still.

They made a few fumbling attempts to right themselves but only managed to roll around a bit and bump into nearby furniture.

“Get up!” gasped Laylani. “You - ha!- You’re squishing me!” Draco tried to raise himself but hit the back of his head on the underside of the coffee table and collapsed again with a mixture of a groan and a laugh.

“I can’t. You get up.”

“I can’t! You’re on top of me!”

“Well one of you get up!” Draco and Laylani turned to see Hermione in a bathrobe standing at the door that connected the Head Boy and Girl’s quarters, looking none too pleased.

“Hey Hernaminny! Her-Harmaie, Hemoninnie?” Draco joined in.

“Harnime, Harbani, Hamamomie?” They dissolved into laughter.

“Hey you!” Laylani amended.

“Yeah you!” said Draco. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard something fall and came to see if everything was alright.” She watched them exchanged poorly disguised scheming smirks.

“Fell? Nothing fell. I can‘t imagine what you‘re talking about.”

“You must be hearing things.” Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly as a few giggles escaped their tight-pressed smiles.

“Right. That must be it. I’m going back to bed. Will one of you put up-” She paused. “I’ll put up a silencing charm. Goodnight you two.” They burst into laughter.

“Goodnight, you!” They called.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione closed the door behind her and put up the charm. Technically she should report the Head Boy for inebriation; he was supposed to set an example after all. A year ago, hell even a few months ago she would have done it in a heartbeat and relished it. But, she supposed, it was just the two of them, they weren’t doing any harm. Besides they both looked happy even if it was drunken giddiness, and she was learning that everyone, maybe even priggish pureblood ferrets, deserved a little happiness.

‘Even bossy bookworms,’ she thought warmly as she climbed back into her bed, remembering the toe-curling kiss she’d shared with Ron earlier that evening when he walked her to her rooms. She fell asleep with a small smile on her lips.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Meanwhile, the cool and slightly uneven bare stones of the front room’s floor were beginning to become uncomfortable against Laylani’s back.

“Draco…Draco! My back hurts.”

“Huh?” he answered, lifting his head from where he had been planting slow, drunkenly haphazard kisses over her neck and jaw. “Oh, your back. Right.” Without thinking, he lifted up again but before he could hit his head against the table, Laylani intercepted with her hand.

“Dammit!” she cried, her hand first pinned between the table, then his head and the floor as he rolled over once, then twice so that they lay on their sides on the rug in front of the hearth. She pulled her hand out from between his head and the carpet and shook it roughly as if to shake away the pain. Draco chuckled low in his chest, like the sound of thunder rolling in the distance.

“I’m sorry, pet.” He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing kisses on each and every finger. “Better?” he asked. She smiled.

“Much better.”

“Good.” He pulled her forward and they began to trade kisses, softly and unhurriedly at first, his fingertips skimming over the length of her spine. But soon that wasn’t enough and their gentle kisses gave way to thrusting tongues and furious heat while hands clutched tightly to the other. Draco pulled away after a moment to help Laylani with her insistent tugging at the hem of his Quidditch jersey

“Eager, aren’t you?” he laughed as he sat up and pulled the jersey over his head. Laylani reddened and bashfully ducked her head into the long fibers of the rug. Gods, her blush was sexy. He stroked stray hairs away from her face and his fingers tangled in her curls. “I like it.”

She smiled and without a word her hands flew to his belt, tugging with inebriate clumsiness and obstinate determinedness to rid him of the offending trousers. As her hands brushed and brushed again over him, it made him aware of something he hadn’t thought of before. Hadn’t really wanted to think of it either.

“Erm, Laylani...” He swallowed hard. Now this was a delicate situation if there ever was one.

Laylani was beautiful, there was no two ways about that. He couldn’t imagine a more seductive layout for her if he tried: Her, laid out in his Quidditch robe, her dark hair wildly unbound, body wrapped in a golden aura provided by the flickering fire behind her, with those half-lidded bedroom eyes that he was certain only he had ever been privileged to receive, and her hands eager to deftly undress him. But the fact of the matter remained, he was drunk. Drop-dead, pass-out, monstrous hangover guaranteed drunk. And no matter how arousing she was, no matter how much he wanted, wished, and willed it, Draco was almost positive that he was too drunk to get a proper erection. Okay, make that certain he was too drunk to get a proper erection. But, Merlin, how did one go about saying it while still maintaining some dignity? He decided it would go over best to be as straightforward as he could while still maintaining some self-respect. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

She’d managed to undo his belt and trousers while he was contemplating the situation and had taken hold of his flagging erection in her small, warm hands. She grinned up at him almost teasingly.

“Hmm, this won’t do at all.” He blushed crimson and she laughed. “We’ll have to see what we can do about it.”

He was positively purple when he spoke next. “Lani, love, it isn’t so much a case of doing or, ah, not doing but….oh, for Merlin’s sake you know how much I’ve had to drink!” She laughed again, her hand stroking gently up and down his member.

“Draco, you forget how much experience I’ve had with men. Trust me, I have my ways. Besides,” she added, kissing him lightly. “I still need to give you some sort of celebration for your fantastic win.” She ushered him onto his back.

“But first we have to get rid of these.” she giggled, indicating his trousers. She sat back on his heels to let him shuffle off the material, along with removing his Quidditch jersey. Laylani stripped herself of her khakis, now wearing only Draco’s Quidditch robe, the black camisole and matching cotton knickers.

Laylani threw her leg over him and straddled his body just below his hips, stroking her hands gently over his flesh. She drew her fingers along the sinewy muscles of his arms, across the alabaster skin of his chest and down his chest to the golden hairs that lead to the waistband of his pants but avoided touching his cock, at least for now. She leaned down, resting lightly over his body

“You’re so perfect.” she breathed in his ear. She stroked his hair and continued to let her hands wander. “Now Draco,” she said huskily, using her best bedroom voice, “I need you to do something for me. Can you do something for me, love?” She rocked her hips slightly against his, sending shivers through him.

“Anything.” he groaned.

“Good. I want you to relax. Don’t think about anything, not what I’m doing, not about how much you’ve had to drink. Just lay there and feel. That’s all I need you to do, okay, Dragon?” He grunted the affirmative.

“Good.” she cooed. She could practically feel herself slipping into the practiced character of a whore, wearing it like an old shirt. She rose up slightly and slid down his body, pressing arbitrary kisses as she went. She arrived at the waistband of his pants and nipped at it, dragging it down his legs with her teeth.

Draco watched her with wide eyes. This was by far the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, including the magazines he’d once found in his father’s study. It was as if she were a whole other person, a seductress hell-bent on pleasing him instead of his usual sweet, loving, Laylani. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing from where he stood, or lay more accurately. Not a bad thing at all.

She had slid his underwear off by this point and was crawling up along his legs predatorily. She smiled at his gaining erection, then at him. Her eyes caught his and she kept their gaze as she slowly lowered to kiss the tip of his erection, her tongue doing a fast swipe over the head. Her fingers drew inwards from his thighs, brushing the base of his penis, across his testicles, over his perineum and further back still, coming dangerously close to his arse. Draco jerked away reflexively, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a small ‘pop.’

“Whoa, Laylani. I don’t, I’m not…No.” He’d never quite decided how he’d felt about it the last time she’d tried. Really he’d tried to think of it as little as possible, not wanting to think of what it might mean for him to have maybe, and only maybe, liked it.

“Shh, Dragon,” she breathed. “Just relax, remember? Don’t think about it.” She moved back towards him and he stiffened.

“I‘m not a pansy.” he stated firmly.

“Of course not, Draco,” she laughed softly. “How could I ever think that?” She had a good point. Still…

“Silly boy,” she teased, advancing on him slowly. “Just trust me to make you feel good. You do trust me, right?” She caught him with her bedroom eyes and pouty lips and he could deny her nothing. He relaxed onto his back with a sigh.

“Good.” she praised. She started slowly, giving him one long lick from the base of his cock to the head and then slowly engulfing his member. Her hands stayed in safe places at first, waiting for him to relax. Being careful to watch his reaction her small fingers began to move further and further back until they were brushing briefly against his arse.

Draco had to force himself to remain still, his body’s natural reaction to pull back from the strange sensation. He trusted her, he did. And if he wanted to show that to her, he supposed he would have to keep an open mind, trust her entirely as she did him. He would cast away his worries, at least for tonight. At any rate, he could always claim it was the alcohol that made him do it in the morning and have that be the end of it if it were too…wrong.

But it didn’t feel wrong. Not at all. It seemed to heighten the experience of what her mouth was doing, and that had always been in and of itself completely fucking amazing. This defied description itself.

Soon his hands had found their way to tangle themselves in her hair, his grip tight but not leading. Laylani could feel his once waning erection reaching its full rigidity. She grinned awkwardly around him.

Laylani drew herself up slowly, just high enough so his cock brushed against her cleavage.

“What do you want, Draco?” she purred. He blinked hard. How was he supposed to answer a question when the blood that should be going to his brain was so obviously somewhere else?

“I-I want…” he stammered as she again lowered herself to take him into her mouth as deeply as she could . Her cheeks hollowed slightly as she began to suck, bobbing her head up and down while Draco continued to stutter, still stuck on ‘I want.’

Laylani stopped just an inch short of releasing his cock and let it sit against the roof of her mouth,. She licked and lashed at it wildly with her tongue before looking up into his eyes. “Mmm?”

“I want to fuck you!” he blurted out, pulling her roughly off of him to pounce on her, literally ripping her black knickers off. Draco had liked the show she put on for him, but Malfoys could rarely give up control for long and he’d reached his limit. Without preamble or prelude, he seated himself to the hilt inside her with a raging hard-on that surprised them both.

“Gods,” he growled, thrusting deeply, “You feel so fucking amazing.” She moaned in response. His thrusts were hard and pounding, deep with their intensity. Laylani wasn’t satisfied to simply lay there and quickly she was meeting them with her own. He grinned wolfishly and quickened his pace even more, thrusting so hard she would have bruises in the morning. Not that she cared.

Draco yanked at the neckline of her camisole, popping stitches as he pulled it down below her breasts. The tightness of the straining material underneath her breasts pushed them upwards on display and making it much easier for Draco to take a hardened rosy nipple into his mouth.

“Yessss.” she hissed. She clutched his head to her chest, fingers laced tightly in his fine blond hair. Her breath was coming in hard pants and she could feel herself getting steadily closer to completion, and feeling a fleeting sense of dread. She wasn’t ready for it to end.

Suddenly he stopped and pulled out, his member still hard signaling that he had yet to climax either.

“No!” she cried, her voice at a whine. “Don’t stop, not yet.”

“No, no, I just want to try something.” Laylani sat up and he quickly pulled off the Quidditch robe and her stretched camisole. He hastily positioned her on her hands and knees and thrust back into her from behind. Her mouth dropped open and she let out a deep guttural moan. The change in position gave him a different angle and deeper penetration and the sensations shocked her. Draco resumed his thrusts, hard and fast, leaning over her back and whispering in her ear.

“Feel good?”

“Unh” she panted. “Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.” he breathed. “You make me feel so good, pet. I’m not going to last. Are you close, hm?”

“Ah, oh, oh…..yes.” His thrusts were losing what little drunken grace they had and they became more sporadic and violent. Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed his hand between her legs, brushing and circling her clit with surprisingly deft fingers.

“Yes!” she cried. “Please, please, please, please, please…” Laylani chanted it over and over again, not quite sure why. Draco’s unoccupied hand came up and roughly kneaded her breasts, leaning nearly his complete weight on her.

“Scream for me, Princess!” He thrust again and she complied, screaming his name so loudly she was certain they heard her from the Great Hall to the dungeons and up in the North tower. Her elbows buckled under the intensity of her orgasm and she fell forward bringing Draco with her. The sudden change of angle coupled with her hot, slick channel collapsing all around him brought him to completion. He thrust hard one last time and came deep inside of her.

They collapsed to the side, both bonelessly happy and breathing so hard Laylani thought she might never catch her breath. Draco drew back his shaky hand from between her legs and stroked it slowly along her side. He could still feel the sporadic tightening of her inner muscles around his rapidly softening erection.

“That was-” he panted.

“Amazing.” she finished.

“Yeah.” They were quiet again until their breathing had slowed and their pulse had calmed. Draco began to move back to remove himself when she stopped him.

“No.” she managed through a yawn. “Stay with me just a little longer.”

“Alright, Princess.” He moved closer again and wrapped nearly his entire body around hers, not liking the chill he felt on her skin from their cooling perspiration. Despite his intoxication and his growing fatigue, he still managed to remember that she could quite easily get sick, and he wasn’t going to deal with that again if he didn’t have to. He reached blindly behind him and grabbed the discarded Quidditch cloak, now quite warm from resting so near the brightly lit fireplace, and pulled it over the two of them.

He pulled her against him as tightly as he could and kissed her ear. She mumbled something drowsily.

“What was that, love?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A little after three a.m, Draco had barely slept. Laylani’s was wildly thrashing in her sleep, flailing her arms and legs violently, connecting with him several times and knocking him out of a doze before he could fully fall asleep. He was awfully tempted to move into his bedroom and leave her and her furious flailing on the rug until morning. No, he knew he couldn’t do that, no mater how appealing the idea sounded. He was just so tired.

He was seriously contemplating waking her up to move into the bedroom, where he would at least be able to avoid her forceful blows on his side of the bed, when Laylani suddenly sat bolt upright and moved jerkily to her feet. He watched groggily as she took slow lurching steps and thought perhaps she might be going to the loo. That would give him enough time to fall asleep. He knew once he was asleep he would stay asleep, it was just a question of getting there.

His eyelids had nearly fallen shut when it occurred to him that Laylani was not heading in the direction of his bedroom but to the portrait. She was probably confused, still rather drunk like himself.

“Lani, love, you’re going the wrong way.” She paid him no heed and her slow steps continued towards the door. Just where exactly was she going naked?

“Laylani,” he called again, louder this time, “What are you doing?” Still no response and her hand reached out for the portrait in the same erratic fashion.

Thoroughly confused and wanting to get to her before she were to step out into the drafty hallways of the castle nude, Draco got up off the rug and walked over to her. He put his hands on her shoulder and turned her around, despite how she tried to step away.

What he saw shocked him. Her eyes were barely open, a little more then slits and he could only see the whites of her eyes, the pupils rolled upwards in her head. He moved his hand in front of her face to check for any reaction but none came, other than trying to move towards the portrait. Despite being mobile, Laylani was not awake.

Not knowing what else to do he shook her roughly, calling her name loudly in a near-panicked voice.

“Lani! Laylani! Wake up! Wake up Princess, look at me!”

Her eyes flew open and her knees buckled underneath her, the only thing keeping her up was Draco’s strong hands.

“Draco?” she asked sleepily. “What happened?”

“You….Nothing, love. Nothing happened. We were just going to move into the bedroom.”

“Okay.” She followed him without question, and Draco was certain she was still half-asleep. He helped her into bed, tucking the covers around her tightly and almost immediately she was asleep again. Draco, knowing he was unable to stay awake but not wanting to chance that she might get up again, hastily grabbed the belt to his bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door and used it to tie her hand to one of the slats that made up his headboard. When he was sure that it was secure enough that it could only be undone with two hands and tight enough that she would not slip out of it, he crawled into bed next to her, his eyes locked on her for any sign of movement.

Despite how he fought, Draco could not stay awake and as his eyes slipped closed, Granger’s words echoed in his head.

“It might take the form of dreams, somnambulism, night terrors…” The dreams she already had. And now she had a second sign of Lord Voldemort’s call. Somnambulism.

Sleepwalking.