Adamo Fidelitas

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books are property of JK Rowling. I don\'t even delude myself about owning this.

Adamo Fidelitas 04

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Hermione stamped off to the Gryffindor common room. Even after skipping breakfast, she still had no appetite for lunch. Since Ron and the others would all be in the Great Hall and Malfoy couldn\'t gain access to the Gryffindors\' private gathering room, it was a safe place where she could sit and think before she had to go to Transfiguration. Her private room seemed too isolated right now, and the common room had the comfort of the happy years she had spent in it.

The fight with Ron, while upsetting, wasn\'t odd at all. They seemed to have huge rows every year over everything from her studiousness to Yule dates. Being friends with Ron required lots of work and forgiveness, like the time that he wouldn\'t speak to her for four months over a broomstick and a rat. She groaned in frustration as she plopped into one of the overstuffed, red chairs beside the empty fireplace.

She had no idea how to handle her problem with that Slytherin slime. Okay, she would probably choose Malfoy over a blast-ended skrewt but not by much. Malfoy was about as cuddly as a skrewt. He just lacked the stinger, suction cup, and blasting end of one. She would simply have to find a way to control her thoughts about the nasty Head Boy whenever Ron\'s amorous side brought up fantasies of Malfoy. There had to be some way, didn\'t there? Malfoy hadn\'t told her how he\'d handled things with Pansy, but it apparently didn\'t help him any if she were to consider his behavior in the library this morning.

Perhaps the best course of action would be to avoid him entirely, but that would mean avoiding him for the next six months. Hermione shivered, remembering how good his touch felt and how her body had responded to him, practically seeking out contact with him. She wasn\'t sure if it was even physically possible to avoid him. Still, she had to try.

Hermione heard the sounds of voices at the portrait hole, and turned to see who was entering. Harry and Ron stopped talking as they spotted her. Ron scratched his head nervously, and Harry grinned and gave Ron a little shove forward. \"Ron\'s had something he\'s been wanting to say to you all morning Hermione,\" he said, motioning for the awkward redhead to start talking.

Hermione shook her head and stepped forward. \"It\'s okay,\" she said with a deep breath. \"You two had better hurry and get your books, or we\'ll be late for Transfiguration. We\'re transfiguring inanimate objects into living ones without changing their forms, so I don\'t want to be late,\" she told them with a grin. Both boys grinned back at her and Ron hugged her while Harry ruffled her hair. Harry was giving Ron the \'I told you so\' speech. Hermione\'s smile felt empty around the problem she was concealing from her best friends.

Meanwhile, Draco spent the remainder of his lunch writing responses to his father\'s letter. He\'d snapped two quills in half in frustration, and he\'d had to use Incendio on at least a dozen drafts so far. If he planned to ask for further ingredients, he couldn\'t tell his father which spell it was, or else Lucius would know it had gone wrong. He finally decided to keep it to just the short details that it was an attraction potion, that Pansy was pleased so far, and that he would probably require more supplies later. Finally satisfied he rolled up the parchment and brought it up to the owlery.

Draco wondered how long Pansy would stay happy. Sleeping with Pansy last night had left him with a burning need for Granger that had finally eased with her touch in the library. It hadn\'t abated altogether though, and that worried Draco. How was he possibly going to keep Pansy happy if touching Pansy left him desperate for Granger? He couldn\'t not touch Pansy. If he touched Pansy, he couldn\'t not touch Granger. If he didn\'t touch Pansy, could he not touch Granger? Was he simply supposed to not get turned on for the next six months while under a lust potion? Not bloody likely!

The rest of the day passed without any further misfortune, but he found himself thinking of Granger whenever classes became too tedious. He also had to leave the Great Hall early when he caught himself looking at her and the Weasel repeatedly. Granger had been looking back as well, and it made Draco nervous. He felt her lik like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, and it made it impossible for him to eat. He excused himself from his half eaten plate and headed out of the room.

Pansy caught him just before the doors. \"Draco, wait!\" she cried out, reaching for his arm. Despite the urge to run, he ped ped and took her hand, leading them into the empty main hall. \"Draco, you\'re acting weird. Did that Weasley do something to get back at you for what happened in potions or something? You kept staring over there,\" Pansy prattled on, making Draco cringe inwardly.

\"Of course not,\" Draco replied diffidently. \"I\'m not nearly done using him to shave points off Gryffindor house though. It\'s the first month of school, and I\'ve already gotten him to knock his house down to nothing. This is our last year in this second-rate school, and if I have to endure another leaving feast with red and gold banners I will puke,\" Draco told her, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at her coldly.

Pansy grinned up at him, rubbed his arms slowly, and raised herself up on her tiptoes to kiss a trail across his jaw. \"Maybe, I could find a way to reward you for today\'s little victory over Gryffindor,\" she promised with a wicked gleam in her black eyes. Pug dogs had black, beady eyes like that.

\"We were at it all night, remember?\" Draco purred, wrapping his arms around Pansy\'s waist. The only thing he wanted right now was to be alone in his room with a very soft pillow and a warm blanket, but he couldn\'t isolate Pansy when his father was expecting success. \"You could very well be the death of me, you little wanton,\" he murmured against her lips. He had to close his eyes, as the vision of her over-teased blonde hair and her hard features repulsed him even more than usual. His mind drifted to Granger\'s far more pleasing features. If onceoncentrated on the soft lines of Granger\'s face he could do this.

Pansy closed the distance between their mouths pushing her tongue past his parted lips and caressing his shoulders. He bit down carefully so as to trap her tongue in his teeth but not hurt her. Draco ran his teeth over her tongue in a mixture of caress and threat, before allowing her anxious fumbling. In his mind Draco was replaying his kiss with Granger the other night and the electric sensations that went along with having her trembling body pressed against him. He wondered if she\'d been as wet then as she\'d been in the library this morning. He felt an immediate tightening in his groin. That was a dangerous thought.

He knew that by allowing this to go any farther, he\'d be in serious trouble. Draco pulled away from Pansy\'s searching mouth, and buried his head in the crook of her neck, biting her hard enough to make her cry out. Her nails dug into his arms, but she pressed her hips against him enthusiastically. He pulled back enough to speak into her ear, barely registering the livid red welt he\'d left on her flesh. \"I\'ll shag you bowlegged another time. Even I need sleep occasionally,\" he reminded her with a smirk and a flutter of his eyebrows.

He turned to leave her, and he noticed a pair of incensed brown eyes watching him from the doorway, while Granger\'s boyfriend stared at Draco and Pansy as though they were the most revolting things he\'d ever seen. Draco decided that a grander exit was in order. Draco wrapped his arm around Pansy\'s hips, and he pulled her along with him to the dungeons. He could walk her to the common room, and then he\'d be free to be alone-free to sleep after the longest day of his life. What had Granger looked so furious about anyhow? The Mudblood had no right to pass judgment over his actions. She was blatantly with that waste of Wizard blood, so who was she to speak?

Despite his wonderful fantasies of peaceful sleep, Draco spent most of his night staring up at the ceiling while his mind reeled, restlessly jerking along like a haltingly turned hurdy-gurdy. After moments of silence and just at the brink of sleep, he wouind ind himself tightly wound with disturbing thoughts like the memory of Granger\'s taste on his fingers or overcome with fevered inspirations to get free of this spell. He hoped that somewhere in Gryffindor tower that know-it-all was having just as miserable a time of it as he was.

By the next morning, he\'d also committed to revenge himself upon Crabbe and Goyle for ensnaring him in this damnable business to begin with. He wasn\'t sure if he\'d gotten any sleep, and he could see the evidence of the past two nights in his reflection. \"How long did it take before Benedick the Eternal Bachelor began running around wearing bull\'s horns and painting himself with vile letters?\" he wondered aloud. If Draco had to suffer, he wouldn\'t suffer alone. He used the early morning hours to begin placing some of the annoying little hexes that had come to him over the course of the night. Crabbe would look simply marvelous with a pair of pink bunny slippers hexed to his feet, and Goyle would have a hard time stuffing his face when only the most revolting flavors of Bertie Bott\'s Every Flavor Beans found their way into everything the behemoth tried to consume.

Granger was another problem altogether. Draco knew that if he got too close he would be compelled to touch her again. On a weekly basis he had Potions, Arithmancy, Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts with her. That made it next to impossible to avoid her. He would also have to steer clear of Potty and his sidekick to avoid her, and that ruined the pleasure of getting back at Potter for continuing to eclipse Draco for the past six years. The worst part was that his continuing fantasies made him want to seek out Granger. The growling of his stomach reminded him that he\'d barely eaten yesterday, and he tried to push away all other thoughts as he headed up to breakfast.

Hermione hoped that she didn\'t\' look as tired as she felt. She had only fallen asleep in the later hours of the morning, and had been running behind ever since. She only had enough time to stop by the Great Hall to grab some toast to eat on the way to class, but that had also meant that she didn\'t need to worry about talking to anyone. In particular it meant that she didn\'t have to talk to Ron, and that was a relief.

Although Ron wasn\'t expecting her to have sex with him, it had become quite clear last night that he was certainly interested in picking up where they had left off the previous night. She had tried, but every time that Ron touched her it felt wrong. She\'d spent a good hour last night imagining that the man lying atop her and rubbing his erection against her was Malfoy instead of Ron. It hadn\'t worked. Ron\'s enthusiastic explorations had felt nothing like Malfoy\'s supremely confident caresses. How the hell had Malfoy managed to kiss that revolting Pansy so heatedly in the main hall? Hermione finally threw Ron out after he\'d guided her hand to his trousers and tried to encourage her to caress him. Then she\'d spent the next hour crying over this rotten mess.

Over the course of the morning Ron\'s behavior made it evident that he was quite offended at her unceremonious dismissal of him, but Hermione found that relieving too. It would make it easier for her to follow through with her current plan of avoiding everything male until a temporary solution presented itself. She did her best to avoid looking at a certain platinum haired wizard in her Arithmancy and Magical Creatures classes too. She felt his eyes on her back like an unbearable itch, and on several occasions she\'d had to break her resolve long enough to shoot him a look. He\'d seemed to be looking back and forth with a pensive expression, studying her and Ron during Hagrid\'s class. They\'d been quite formal to each other when required to speak, and it hadn\'t gone unnoticed.

Over the next few days, Hermione continued to do her level best to avoid all things male although she made the exception of Neville for Potions class. She still was barely sleeping, and it seemed that she was going to have to rely on Neville a great deal for now. Malfoy was carrying dark circles under his eyes as well, and she\'d noticed him dicing his roots quite irregularly unlike his normal precision. Looking back at her own pile of butchered mimiculus mallow, Hermione sighed and began to sprinkle it into the bubbling mixture.

\"Wait, Hermione!\" Neville whispered urgently, and she immediately froze. \"I have to add the crocodile tears first,\" Neville reminded her as quietly as possible. With a look of horror Hermione tried to spoon out the bits of plant from their potion. She\'d never made such a blunder in a class before.

\"Miss Granger,\" oiled Snape\'s voice from the other side of their table. \"The day when Longbottom has to correct you on a potion may be the day you end up blowing up this entire classroom,\" Snape jeered. \"Five points from Gryffindor for failing to pay attention.\"

Hermione frowned at the smiling Slytherins around the room. Pansy Parkinson and her Slytherin girls were laughing loudly. That was no surprise. Pansy had hated Hermione for some reason since fourth year. Malfoy wailiniling slightly while looking nervously at his own cauldron. Harry stared at her with worry evident in his green eyes, and Ron, recovering from a look of shock, smiled as he checked his own potion. Apparently Ron thought her mistake was over her distress at him not speaking to her again.

Hermione turned back to her own work with a huff and watched Neville add the three tears. Neville smiled kindly at her. \"It\'s okay, Hermione,\" he promised. \"Everyone has to make a mistake at least once in a while, but you\'re still the best student in here.\" Hermione nearly cried at the words, and she had to look away. She turned her head to see Malfoy watching her very closely. He mouthed the words \"after class\" to her, and Hermione nodded dumbly.

At the end of class, Hermione noticed Malfoy spending extra time cleaning up and did likewise. She told Neville to go on ahead when he asked if she needed some help, and when she and Malfoy were the only two students left she finally started up isleisle. She could hear the Slytherin fall into step behind her, and once outside the door she followed him down the nearly empty corridor into a small alcove.

Draco too had been catching himself making lots of stupid little mistakes in his classes in the last couple of days. The lack of sleep and drifting thoughts were horrible, and he\'d finally decided on a combination of potions and spells to help him. He was still completely paranoid about any one discovering what was wrong with him, and when Granger had messed up her potion and been caught by Longbottom Draco\'s paranoia had added a whole new dimension to its scope. If Granger started to draw attention to herself like that, it was only a matter of time before it all came out.

He fished through his monogrammed leather satchel for one of the small green bottles that he\'d pilfered from the infirmary that morning. He\'d taken the precaution of using a cushioning charm around them before placing them in his bag, because they were too precious to him to be broken under some ridiculously large textbook. Feeling them he pulled one out from the bag and pushed it into Granger\'s hand.

\"Draught of Death,\" he explained. \"I stole a couple of bottles from the infirmary this morning. Two drops in something to drink when you go to bed. Only two drops,\" he stressed. \"Even then it probably won\'t be restful sleep, but it should be more sleep at leas He He watched her curly brown head nod with understanding.

He was still holding onto her hand, and his fingers traced idly over hers. Hermione felt her whole body rock comfortingly at his touch, barely moving back and forward. It reminded her of an old nature show that had shown a snake charmer at work. The charmed cobra had moved like that, as though swaying in a trance at the chords of exotic music. Malfoy leaned closer to her with that same trancelike motion.

\"We could also try concentration charms,\" he added, lowering his face towards hers. Hermione\'s right hand reached out to rest upon his left side rubbing in small circles over the softness of his gray cashmere sweater. It figured that Malfoy would buy cashmere sweaters for his uniform. Malfoy braced himself against the wall with one hand, as he brushed his pouty lips over her cheek and tickled her skin with his hot breath.

Hermione\'s thoughts were narrowing down at least. At the moment they were narrowing down to one driving thought-touch Malfoy. It had cleared her mind before, but only temporarily. With the help of potiand and charms could they manage to use just small touches to keep themselves able to think? Or would it be like a drug, where they just had to keep upping the dose? Hermione\'s fingers were now tracing the rounded curve of Draco\'s buttock. It felt like a drug.

\"Malfoy?\" she asked, as he nuzzled the side of her throat. He bit down playfully before sucking on her sensitized skin hard enough to make her moan. As if drawn tight by an invisible cord inside her body, the throbbing point between her legs clenched. She heard his muffled answer to affirm that he was listening. \"Our minds get clearer after we touch, right? What if we try to use just small touches with the help of the potion and charm? I mean things that nobody will notice like brushing against each other in the hall or briefly touching hands when passing over a potions vial. Do you think that would help or would it just lead to us wanting…\" Malfoy released her fingers and rhythmically stroked her breasts with both hands, first cupping her in his palms then drawing his hands back as he closed his grip further until he stroked only the peaks of her breasts between his thumb and fingers then covering her with his entire hand again. \"…more…\" Hermione finished in a moan, no longer sure if it was a question or a separate command, as she pocketed the sleeping potion.

She pushed his pelvis against her growing desire, and he paused to lift her hips to his. Hermione wrapped her legs around his back, as the clothed line of his rigid flesh pressed between her swelled lips under the weight of her body. She wrapped her arms around Malfoy\'s neck, and he pushed her up against the wall for support.

Hermione rolled her hips against him, so that she could feel him pressing both against that pulsing void which yearned to be filled and then against that burning pebble of flesh that begged for the friction of his body. She threw her head back, and Malfoy kissed a soft trail up the front of her throat and finally claimed her lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. The pointed tip of his tongue danced along the edge of hers, as though seeking permission. She deepened the kiss, running her fingers through his shiny silvery-blonde hair as she pulled his face closer. His hands beneath her beh heh her bottom guided her willing hips against him.

Suddenly, the realization struck Hermione that she was practically doing Draco Malfoy in a small alcove where anyone could discover them. She pushed against his chest and awkwardly tried to disentangle herself from him. Pulling out of the kiss, she called out to him with a quiet but firm voice. \"Malfoy. Malfoy! Stop it,\" she demanded. \"I\'m not spending my lunch break riding my worst enemy in the middle of the hallway!\"

In the next moment she found herself on her bum on the floor, as he stepped away from the wall that his body had her wedged against. She glared up at him and he glared right back down at her. \"The joyride was your idea, Mudblood,\" he reminded her coldly, as he pulled her up by her arm. \"But I suppose I know where I stand compared to a skrewt now,\" he drawled acidly.

Hermione brushed herself off while calling Malfoy a few choice names. When she looked back his slate eyes were staring at her skirt with a preoccupied look. Hermione checked quickly to see if anything was amiss. Finding nothing, she looked back up at Malfoy in time to see him look away. \"I think we can see where simply touching hands leads us,\" Malfoy told her calmly.

\"Don\'t forget that was after three days build up,\" Hermione sighed. \"But still the idea could be too dangerous. I think we had less control this time, if touching just feeds into the effect, it would backfire.\" She tapped her foot, as she spoke. \"We don\'t know yet how much the draught and the charm will help though. Can\'t you remember anything useful from your research? Someone must have fought it before this,\" she insisted.

\"He went mad,\" Malfoy told her dryly. \"The wizards and witches who brewed the counterpotion all succumbed in the meantime.\" He found himself quite enjoying the way that she flushed upon considering the options that left her with. \"We can try your plan,\" he told her with a sigh, \"We already know that we can\'t avoid each other successfully.\"

Afternoon classes were better, and for once Hermione decided to forego most of her nighttime studying in order to catch up on lost sleep. She snuck down to the kitchens to ask Winky if the elf could bring her a warm cup of cocoa at night to help her sleep, which of course the house elf was delighted to do. Hermione thanked her warmly, and returned to her private room with a nice steaming goblet. Winky would visit her with them each night around eleven. Hermione added the two drops and was thankful that the potion didn\'t have any discernable flavor. True to Malfoy\'s prediction the sleep wasn\'t truly restful. It was better at least, but not great. Hermione wondered if the Draught of Death had been misnamed, or if it was more likely a testament to the power of the lust potion.

The clarity charms also helped over the next couple of days, but even with the fleeting touches the effects of Adamo Fidelitas continued to grow stronger. They could just as well have been building a dam out of toothpicks. No amount of casual touching would have the clearing power of falling upon each other in some deserted spot, but they both feared exactly how far they would go if that happened again. The weekend was a total loss, as Harry and Ron insisted on going to the library with Hermione and Malfoy had left in disgust.

The pair found themselves finding ways to sneak in touches that could in no way be considered casual. Arithmancy was the easiest for that, since neither Harry nor Ron were in the class, and Pansy also preferred wooly subjects like Divination. Hermione simply switched to a seat in the back of the room, and Malfoy made a great pretense about sitting next to her to annoy her. It wasn\'t as though they had stopping bickering, so no one suspected a few stray caresses when the class\'s attention was fixed elsewhere.

The anticipation, the casual touches, the bold yet secret caresses became a maddening distraction of their own. Small mistakes continued to creep in, and the worst seemed reserved for Potions. Neville caught most of Hermione\'s stupid mistakes, and after that first time he simply helped fix them without comment. He gave her some very worried looks though, especiallyn thn their potion turned orange instead of gold. Goyle on the other hand caught none of Malfoy\'s mistakes, whether it was entirely due to his stupidity or influenced by the fact that he and Crabbe seemed to be under a different hex every day was still to be seen.

Hermione headed up to the student cupboard to replace the Japanese beetles that she had accidentally dropped on the floor and trod upon. She spotted them on the top shelf and rose onto her tiptoes to reach for them. Even stretching up as far as she could, the jar was too far back on the shelf, and she started to look around for the stepladder.

She froze at the sound of familiar footsteps behind her, and Hermione worried privately about what was about to happen. \"Granger, you really must be a midget,\" came Malfoy\'s lazy voice from directly behind her. He reached forward with his left arm to root around on the top shelf, effectively shielding them from Snape\'s view. His back shielded them from the view of the rest of the class. Hermione knew he must have gone crazy, if he was about to try something here. She could hear Harry trying to coax Ron back into his seat, and she knew that would have at least gotten Snape\'s attention. \"What were you looking for anyhow?\" Malfoy asked, without sounding interested.

\"The Japanese beetles, but I can get them myself!\" Hermione insisted, hoping that he would take the hint. His right arm snaked around her waist, although his robe hid the exact position of his arm from the rest of the room. Hermione couldn\'t move without giving that away now.

\"Oh, these Japanese beetles?\" Malfoy smirked, as he easily lifted the bottle and held it just above her reach. His hand had slipped into her robes and made its way under her skirt. Hermione could see her entire life flashing before her eyes. \"Whatever happened to the beetles you had?\" Malfoy asked in amusement, as he traced the seam between her tightly pressed thighs with his index finger. If he was trying to tease her legs apart for his own twisted fun, Hermione was not about to let him win.

\"They got stepped on,\" she told him coldly. She turned her face enough for him to see the burning fury in her eyes. She reached for the beetles again, and his grin seemed to grow even bigger as he used the opportunity to unexpectedly pinch her nipple. Hermione only stopped herself from gasping aloud by biting her lower lip forcefully.

\"How terribly clumsy you must be. That\'s pathetic,\" Malfoy taunted. He was still squeezing her nipple tightly and rolling it between his fingers as he spoke. Hermione felt herself melting into him, but reminded herself sternly that this was no time to go daft. She promised herself that she would find an excuse to slap him across the face as soon as possible.

From his heavy desk, Severus Snape watched the scene like an overgrown vulture. With a large grin, Malfoy was leaning over Granger and holding the jar just out of her reach. All Snape could see of her around Malfoy\'s robes was the occasional hand reaching for the jar, and the top of her head. Potter was holding Weasley by the arms and telling him to calm down, while the taller youth struggled and muttered, \"Gerroff, Harry!\" At Malfoy\'s table Crabbe and Goyle were farting pink, sparkly clouds and scratching mysterious rashes respectively and were therefore too busy to pay a whit of attention to their leader. At the back of the room, Parkinson and the Slytherin girls were grimacing at the latest noxious, pink cloud of gas emanating from Crabbe.

Both Granger and Malfoy had been below par in his last couple of classes, and Snape already knew that neither of them was going to have a correct Switching Potion by the next class. From his two best students that was a shock, and he was mightily annoyed with both of them. They didn\'t have time to waste in childish squabbles at the moment. Snape sighed, and he reluctantly decided to intervene before he could find a way to blame the incident on the Gryffindors. \"Give Miss Granger the beetles, Mister Malfoy,\" Snape instructed wearily.

The blonde boy looked over at him in surprise. Realizing that Snape was serious, he looked momentarily disappointed. \"All you had to do was say \'please\', Granger,\" he said petulantly, lowering his arm to give her the jar. Snape\'s eyes widened, and he doubted his vision for a moment. He quickly looked away, and the flushed girl snatched the jar, counted out her beetles, and stormed back to her seat. Malfoy measured out a smidgen of powdered kelpie bone, and resumed his seat as well.

For the remainder of the class, Snape\'s cold black eyes roved over the classroom with keen curiosity veiled behind his menacing scowl. Everything appeared normal enough on the surface. Weasley was grumbling threats against Malfoy under his breath, for the benefit of his friends. Potter was trying to decipher his notes. Granger and Malfoy were back to work looking more like themselves than they had at the beginning of the lesson. And then he saw it. After looking at her friends to make sure they weren\'t looking, the curly haired girl shot the Slytherin Head Boy a warning glance, and he returned her look with a the tiniest hint of a smir

Severus returned his attention to the stack of papers on his desk, and he tried to wrap his mind around what he had just witnessed. \"You are dismissed,\" he announced five minutes early. Rather than waiting for his students to finish cleaning up, the greasy haired Professor headed straight for the Headmaster\'s office, giving the password \"Candied Ants\" to the gargoyle.

\"Albus, we need to talk,\" he announced to the white-bearded wizard, as he entered the circular room.

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Author\'s Note: Yeah, I know that\'s an evil cliffy. This chapter grew in detail when I sat down to write it, and as a result I had to end in a different spot than I\'d originally intended. Not that I don\'t occasionally enjoy putting up some evil cliffhangers. ;) I rather liked that for a chapter end.