No Longer Helpless

Chapter Thirty-One
It’s official!

“Bloody wanker!” Draco hissed, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to raise his voice any higher. Moody would pay for last night.

The Slytherin hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, and his anger was flaring already. It was a few moments later that he registered his surroundings, if not by sight at first, then by feel. It felt like the couch in the Head’s common room. The air was chill, probably from an open window and dead fire. Yet, he was pleasantly warm. Oh, that was just Hermione, snuggled up beneath him, still sleeping soundly… ‘WHAT?’ his mind roared, trying to recall how he ended up here.

Dammit, it would take too long to get his memory back this way. Carefully extricating himself from their entangles limbs, Draco made his way into the bathroom. At least he didn’t have to make a visit to Pomfrey for an alleviating Hangover Potion.

As soon as he downed the vile lime green liquid, the foggy haze began to lift. Indeed, he could open his eyes to the dim rays of light and he was sure he wouldn’t reel in pain at anything louder than a pin drop.

Now, as he let the hot water blast forth from the shower head, he tried to recall whatever drunken escapades he may have had.

He’d come barging in to the common room. With a passionate determination, and as Hermione asked what he was up to… he faltered to remember. Getting drunk was a cruel joke on Moody’s part, oh sure it would be funny as hell in a year or two, if they lived that long, but as Draco remembered the events of last night, he seethed in anger. Moody would pay, he’d have his revenge on the old man.

Revenge. That one word triggered a whole mess of images, and every detail replayed through his now sober mind.

**

“Hermione!” he called, raising one hand and pointing to her, he again faltered for what was supposed to come next. Some where between thinking the words and saying them, much was being lost.

“Yes, I’m Hermione,” she said giving him a incredulous glance while speaking sarcastically.

“Bloody Gryffindors, think your so funny don’t you, always have witty comebacks,” he spoke to himself, except instead of the intended mumble it was just short of a shout. As he walked, staggering slightly, over to the couch he watched as Hermione’s eyes widened.

“You’re drunk!” she cried out, sounding furious.

Draco stopped abruptly, “Shh!” he called, raising a finger to his lips, and crouching suddenly. Looking right and left around the room, as though someone was about to attack. Hermione seemed to forget about everything and became wary all of sudden, trying to search for what might be the danger he had sensed. It was then Draco’s face broke in to a grin, “Do you hear that?” he asked.

“No. What is it?” she asked, still looking around, concerned.

It was then Draco let out a chuckle, “Don’t look now, but I think you may be right!” he cried as he fell to his knees laughing, clutching his stomach.

“What?” now Hermione seemed to be a complete loss.

“I am drunk!” he roared, unable to stop laughing.

A smacking noise was heard as Hermione slapped a hand to her own head, not believing the predicament she was now in.

As Draco began to calm down some, he watched as the girl sulkily threw herself onto the couch.

“Great!” she huffed angrily, folding her arms across her chest. “I have a serious matter to discuss with you and you come to me completely shit faced!”

Again Draco roared with laughter, and pointed at Hermione like she had just done the most astounding thing, “You cursed!” he cried between fits.

“Oh, bloody hell!” she exclaimed, truly being put in a frantic mood.

This was apparently not the right thing to say, as it made Draco burst out yet again. The Slytherin had never laughed so much in his entire life.

Crawling over to her, he used her knees to rest on, still sitting on the floor. “I have something ‘serious’, to discuss with you too… too, too,” he said, quickly seeming to become more and more bleary.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione replied, “I’m sure, it must be terribly dire if it can only be said while you’re drunk.”

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to retain whatever control he had, so he slowly climbed up onto the couch beside Hermione. Once he was sitting up, he felt his head clear slightly, but it didn’t last long. Blinking he turned to Hermione, who just watched him expectantly.

Reaching over, he gathered her to him, and slid her onto his lap. Oh, how his little Gryffindor blushed at that.

“Draco?” she questioned, blushing furiously, though not because she was sitting the Slytherin’s lap, but because she was sitting in the lap of her sexy partner whom she just realized she was in love with.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, causing the little kitten to freeze and go rigid, he didn’t bother to stop though, he had to say everything quickly, “And you can’t kill Lestrange, because you’re too innocent, and I love that about you. And you can’t die…” his head fell back and rested against the back of the couch while his eyes drifted shut, but his hold around her remained firm, “… because it’d kill me too. Bloody Pothead with his hands all over you… murder the Weasel if he even so much as…” the rest of his thought wasn’t finished as he did slip into unconsciousness, which would explain why everything after that was blank.

**

Again the hard thudding of Draco’s head against the nearest wall resounded through the room. While Draco banged his head, an even greater need to wring Moody’s neck arose.

Draco was a Malfoy however, raised to face anything with composure. Whether he felt embarrassed or completely insecure about what happened last night, he’d face Hermione as though he wasn’t. This was not some kiss they could ignore or classify as sexual tension. This was s drunken confession, more than plain to see it had been his true feelings and not easily smoothed over.

When he walked quietly out into the common room, he found Hermione still asleep on the couch. Part of him wanted to use this as an excuse and just go to the Great Hall for breakfast, without sorting things out, but he didn’t work that way. Sitting down beside her again, he caught the faint aroma of lavender. ‘Wait a minute…’ his mind alerted cautiously. Her hair was wet, and her clothes were changed.

Just as he processed what all that meant, Hermione had sprung to life and jumped at him.

Laughing, she taunted, “Gottcha! You have no idea how fast I had to take my shower to make it back here in time.”

Over powering her, he replied from above, in his usual Slytherin tone, “You should have joined me!”

‘Shit!’ he thought as he watched her blush. A fine come back for any other time, just not the morning after a confession.

Well, it was out there. He couldn’t just obliviate her mind and pick up his subtle wooing where he’d left it. Now he was going to do this his way, not how he thought Hermione would prefer it, so he leaned down, slowly. As he heard Hermione’s breathing become more shallow, he gave an inward smile, before quickly capturing her lips.

Slowly, and hesitantly, the little princess relaxed and gave over. Soon, they were both an entangled lock of bodies, kissing madly. While his hands itched to roam her, he kept them in place. Breaking away, both breathless, both with flushed cheeks, Draco spoke, “What I said last night, it still stands.” He paused, watching he emotions play in her eyes. “Do you love me?” he asked, masking the hopeful desperation he was now feeling.

‘Oh he just had to ask’ Hermione thought. As it was, she had just come to the conclusion yesterday. Confessing her feelings had never crossed her mind, but then after Draco admitted he felt the same way, she’d spent the night in turmoil. Debating whether it was a good choice or not. But, any consequences had flown from her head, when he leaned down and kissed her again.

Breaking away again, his grey eyes searched her honey brown ones with need. Faintly he heard her whisper, “Yes”. His eyes widened slightly, betraying the emotion behind them.

Hermione raised her head up, and whispered into Draco’s ear, “I’m in love with you.”

As if the warm breath against his ear wasn’t enough to send a shiver of pleasure down his spine, when the words sunk in, he felt an overwhelming surge of happiness within. How could such a simple phrase mean so much, it was ridiculous. And yet, he couldn’t deny to beating of his heart and the strong emotions that came from her whispered reply.

If his Gryffindor Princess was truly in love with this Slytherin Prince, then it would stand to reason that he could do this…all day…

Draco had begun kissing Hermione again, pinning her down beneath him, deciding they wouldn’t leave the dormitory all day. They didn’t need to eat, right now he needed to feel her there, pliant underneath his body. The feel of her fingers entwined in his hair, clasping behind his neck and pulling him to her. Her soft lips, becoming swollen and red from devouring them.

Moving his mouth lower, Draco trailed soft kisses from her lips to her jaw and down her neck. It was here he stopped, and he began to suckle, marking her. Hermione squirmed beneath him, trailing her hands over his back. She loved the feel of his well toned muscles, but she thought it might feel even better if he wasn’t wearing his shirt. So, she found the hem and pulled the material up.

It would seem his little innocent princess had been waiting for this about as long as him. He was more than pleased to know she didn’t seem to have any qualms about where this was going. And he wasn’t stupid enough to ask, since the feel of her nails raking across his back was causing him to lose controlled thought.

While a small part of her mind shouted that this wasn’t right, she wasn’t ready. The rest of her was on fire, proving that as long as it was Draco giving her the hickie, she didn’t care how far they went. She didn’t have time to ponder over why something she’d formerly thought should be so treasured was no obstacle at the moment. Maybe, it was because she was in love. Maybe it was because of the unbelievably sexy body he had… perhaps a bit of both.

In an effort of become closer, Hermione’s leg opened and allowed Draco to rest on her. There was a flutter and wave of heat as she felt something hard against her stomach. Unable to resist, her hips bucked slightly, earning a muffled groan from Draco as he moved on from her clearly marked neck to her chest.

As he unbuttoned her shirt, and slipped his hand under her bra she again felt an intense need for greater friction against her lower region. Bucking again, and causing Draco to growl this time, “vixen” he hissed hot breath against her exposed breast.

Not sure whether that was a good thing or not, Hermione tried to rear her impulses. As Draco lowered his head to her breast, flicking a tongue over her hardened nipple, she moaned loudly at the pleasure she felt from it. Again her hips bucked, seemingly in vain, until Draco returned her action. This gave her the friction she’d been seeking, as she felt his solid veiled member rub against her. A moan, the likes of which she would have been mortified at under more rational circumstances, escaped her. “Ah… Draco!” she called his name, unable to keep her voice in.

It was then, Draco sat back slightly. An immediate lack of heat between where they had just been joined. Hermione saw his eyes were dark with lust and something else she couldn’t put her finger on.

Hearing her cry out in such a sweet and lust filled voice had sent him over the edge. There was no holding back now, he wanted her too badly, needed her too badly. However, the couch of their common room was not sufficient.

Standing, Draco swiftly swept Hermione up in his arms, and proceeded to make his way to his bedroom.

No sooner had his foot reached the first step, than a loud knock came from the stone wall which served as the Head’s dormitory door.

“Malfoy! Granger! Get a move on it, we meet at headquarters in fifteen!” came Moody’s all too familiar bark.

Draco was stunned into silence. This wasn’t happening. He was about to have sex with the only person he’d ever loved or desired so deeply and now they had to stop for a bloody meeting! This wasn’t fair!

His body shook with anger as he gently set Hermione down. He did feel slightly better upon seeing a disappointment in her eyes which seemed to mirror his own. They didn’t have very long. As Hermione fixed her clothes, a blush on her cheeks upon registering just how exposed she really was, Draco swept off across the common room. Hermione knew he was making his way to their bathroom, but when she realized what it was for she blushed and felt a little responsible, so she foolishly called to his retreating back, “Do you want me to uhh…” her face grew even more red, and she was glad his back was turned, “…help?” she finished, wanting to put a paper bag over her face and hide.

Draco’s step faltered, he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t turn around, because if he did and he found the little Gryffindor standing there with her flushed cheeks of brazen embarrassment and swollen lips he’d just been touching, he’d snap. If he turned around, he knew they wouldn’t stand a chance of making it to that Order meeting, and while he wanted to murder Moody at this point, he hadn’t failed to detect a slight note of urgency in the man’s gruff voice. “How kind of you to offer,” he forced out, trying to mask desire under sarcasm, and doing so a little too well, he didn’t want to make her upset. He couldn’t help it though, it was his way to use harsh words to cover up emotions, “But, I’m afraid that if you wank me off, I’d end up screwing you into the pristine tiling of the floor,” he bit out, far harsher than he wanted. ‘Damn Moody!’ his mind yelled again. Now, he was channeling anger out on Hermione.

For a brief moment, Hermione felt down trodden. But then, she sighed and giggle lightly in dawning understanding. Having become accustom to the many subtle moods of Malfoy, she knew when he was speaking harshly to cover something up. Obviously, in a frustration matching her own, he had declined her clumsy offer. Now, she relished in the idea that Draco desired her so badly that he lost control, or at least implied he would.


Twelve minutes and thirty four seconds later, two very flustered and upset teens arrived outside of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Ah, please take a seat. Now that you’re here, we can begin,” Dumbledore welcomed them.

Surprisingly, it seemed a full meeting had been called. It was rare for Dumbledore to make such a request, too dangerous to have everyone in the same room. But, here they were, all key members. Hermione’s eyes lit up as she found both Harry and Ron sitting beside Mr. Weasley. Catching their attention she smiled, before following Draco to sit down.

Between Remus and Moody were two seats beside each other, which Draco and Hermione took. It seemed Draco had made a point to steer nearer to Moody, taking his seat next to the man. As Hermione settled in beside Remus, she heard a stifled cry of pain come from Moody. Looking over, she saw a smug Draco crossing his arms and looking content, and an angry Moody who seemed to be nursing a hurt leg. No one else seemed to notice anything.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at this, drawing the attention of the werewolf right next to her.

“What’s so amusing?” he asked in a quite whisper, as everyone had begun to bring their conversations to an end and it was becoming more quite in the large room.

“Nothing, professor,” she replied, smiling back.

When Remus quirked a brow at her, knowing full well the sort of mischief she and all her friends tended to get into, she conceded, “I’ll tell you later.”

Everyone became silent once Dumbledore stood up and began the meeting. It seemed the atmosphere became oppressed as soon as everyone noticed the dull blue color of the old wizard’s eyes. Where had the twinkle gone? Why did he seem so grave?

“I’ll be frank,” he started, “The final battle draws very near. And, I think now is the time to begin our plans.”

“Plans?” Snape sneered, “Is that not what you’d call the past two years?”

Shaking his head, Dumbledore clarified, “I mean, we shall begin our strike.”

Snape lost what little color he had, blanching at what Dumbledore was implying. Certainly, they had always presumed to let Voldemort begin the final attack, and end it with their victory. But, to strike first? They’d discussed this before, a year or so ago and threw it out the window.

“I believe there are circumstances which have changed,” the Headmaster said, keeping Snape’s eye.

While Snape fell quite, several eyes watching him, his mind worked trying to piece together what the old wizard was after. When it finally clicked, his head swiveled, directing his sight down the table and landing on the female golden child of the trio.

Giving a meek cough, Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Somehow it felt like every time she attended a meeting everyone ended up staring at her. She could feel Snape’s beady little eyes boring into her.

Draco shifted as well, not liking how everyone, Snape mostly, was staring at Hermione. He casually and possessively draped an arm around her shoulders, glaring in turn at his Potions professor.

‘This is ridiculous!’ Hermione thought. “Care to clue us in, professor?” she directed to Snape, who only then looked away from her.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Albus, but do you mean to use the girl as bait?”, he asked coolly.

“Not just any bait Severus.” Dumbledore smiled softly, “Very clever and capable, bait.” If he knew Hermione, then he knew she would have proposed this very idea herself had all the information been relayed to her.

Knowing she was being referred to as, ‘bait’ Hermione chimed in, “Alright, before we start dancing around any more, let’s cut about an hour off of this meeting and have everything explained straight out.”

A nod from several people told her she wasn’t the only one sick to death of beating around the bush. It seemed all they ever did was play games at these meetings, it was sometimes a wonder they ever got anything done.

“If you don’t mind Dumbledore, I’d like to take it from here, this is my specialty after all,” Moody interceded.

With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore sat down and allowed Alastor to explain. It was best, since Alastor preferred to be frank and enjoyed all tactical discussions.

Moody didn’t bother to stand up, but instead leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Alright, well, I think first I should mention to those of you who don’t already know; With Hermione here being an Angelus and all, Voldemort’s been in a frenzy to get his hands on her. Reports from the inside-” he gave a nod to Severus, “tell us, that after the little magical breach incident from the assignment a couple days ago, the Dark Lord has become restless. His sole objective is to get his hand on that power. While they haven’t tried anything as of yet, Severus informs us that the Dark Lord will strike at any moment.” He paused, to let the few who didn’t know process the new information.

“What’ll he use her for?” Remus asked. For the most part he was out of the loop, what with being off on assignments all the time.

“Not even the Dark Lord himself seems to know that one,” Severus spat.

“Regardless of his intentions, he still wants to use her. Which means, if we give him an opportunity, he will take it. Thereby making the first move.” Moody simplified the general idea, to cut time down as Hermione had mentioned.

Harry, who usually didn’t speak much at what few meetings he attended, interjected, “So you want to use Hermione as a lure, so that Voldemort will make his move, and we can make ours!” It wasn’t a question, it was an incredulous statement. The very idea outraged him, and he wouldn’t stand for it.

“Not bloody likely!” Ron confirmed Harry’s point of view.

It was at this point, voices broke out and arguments ensued. It would seem the room was divided, between those for the so far very general plan and those against it. Mrs. Weasley seemed to speak for her entire family by throwing the idea out the window. While most of the Aurors felt that in light of the opportunity it gave them, it was worth all risks.

Suddenly there was complete silence and for a few gaping moments everyone was stunned that their mouths were moving, but no sound was coming out.

“Sorry, slip of the hand,” Draco apologized, with no remorse detectable in his voice, “I’ve got a bit of a hangover you see, can’t take all the noise,” he explained, throwing a deadly glare at Moody upon iterating ‘hangover’. With a wave of his hand, the charm was lifted, and though their voices were returned, so to speak, no one spoke.

As he received angry looks from everyone, except Dumbledore who seemed amused, he remained cool and impassive, nudging Hermione in the shoulder. After all, he’d only done it because Hermione wanted to speak, but was too much of a goody-goody to do anything.

Hermione glanced up at Draco with a reprimanding, but also thankful, look. “umm, well, I think it’s really my call here. I know Dumbledore and everyone else would never do this without my permission-” she was interrupted by a scoffing Snape. Sending a glare his way, wanting to rephrase and say, ‘ok, so those of you with any balls wouldn’t do this without my permission!’ but she didn’t, she continued with, “I’m up for it. Now, we need to start working on the details,” she concluded, but upon hearing another roomful of arguing starting she cut back in, with a raised voice, “And if we can’t even get this much settle, we have no hope of winning this war!”

TBC...

Please note that this chapter is the same as the original post. Perhaps a few minor corrections, but generally full of the same errors. I'm sorry for taking so long to put up the rest of the story, and for not having it polished when doing so.