Obscurity

Hello there readers. Sorry about the last chapter. I didn\'t realize that uploading the chapter from word would erase all of my section dividers. I guess I should have checked it before I posted. Bad Girl Bad Bad Girl.

Once again this has heavy plot. Two chapters without at least some smut really isn\'t my style but neither is pointless smut. But I\'ll get there I promise. I touched a bit on Hermione\'s insecurities in this chapter. I see her as confident in knowledge and books but self effacing when it comes to being a woman. I hope that Malfoy can teach her that she\'s beautiful.

The letters may be a little far fetched. I thought about leaving them out but I liked the concept. I may go back later and tweak the wording...I haven’t decided. It may grow on me. There wasn\'t a really good stopping place so I decided to post, even though this is kind of a weird place to break.

Many Many thanks to everyone who reviewed. Anyone who writes knows what a thrill it is to log in and get feedback, good, bad, ugly...it\'s awesome to know people are reading. I\'d especially like to hear what you thought about the letters. I\'m not completely comfortable with them. Not really sure if they fit, or if their clever enough. Anyway, on with the story.

Rain

Required Disclaimer: Obviously I am not the WB or JK. This story is not meant to infringe on the rights or offend any scary corporations and lawyers that could sue my pants off. These characters belong to their creator, I am only borrowing them for a short while, and most likely putting them in positions and situations that would make JK frown. On with the story then...

*****************************************************************************
Hermione scowled at Malfoy for a moment longer before pulling her gaze away and glancing down at the crimson bundle in her hands. She could almost hear his husky voice in her ear whispering about fantasizing about her. Which was absurd. She was Hermione Granger and boys simply did not fantasize about her. But still, she was staring at obscenely expensive sheets and he had kissed her. More then once. Had come to her rescue without hesitation. More than once.

But he had also disappeared without a goodbye. Went out of his way this morning to remind her what an insufferable, immature, evil Prat he was. As if she could ever forget. She had wanted to hit him so bad, until it was almost a physical ache. To think that she had let him touch her, kiss her. Had simply tossed every moral and standard she had out the window and twined herself around him like a ribbon. And now he had sent her an exotic message, and even though she was still mad at him she felt the humiliating ache in her core that he had introduced her to. She shifted uncomfortably as the wetness in her knickers became more noticeable. It was really quite disgusting to have no control over her emotions like this. Teenage libido should be outlawed and she wished it had skipped over her completely.

She really needed to get a hold of herself. Harry was shooting her concerned looks from the corner of his eye. And Ginny Weasley wasn’t even trying for discretion, strait up staring at her deliberately. Besides, she was getting all worked up for nothing. It was just camouflage. She could feel the heavy comforting weight of the book concealed within the red folds and shoved down the nervous anticipation dancing deep in her stomach. She set her package aside, carefully wrapping it up in the plain brown paper, and took a deliberate bite of her breakfast. She needed to keep her strength up.

She’d been horribly disappointed when she never heard back from Malfoy. She’d waited anxiously for a letter back almost all summer. She’d half convinced herself that he couldn’t figure out her code name. After all it had been a muggle reference. But no matter that she hadn’t heard from him she knew in her heart that Malfoy would know who the letter was from. His razor sharp intelligence was one of the things that drew her to him.

Dear Woodcutter,

With your knowledge of the woods I thought you might know where I could procure some items to help me get safely to grandma’s house. I may drop my basket again and would need to be able to carry on without it.

Little Red Riding Hood.

It had taken forever to write those simple lines and she had agonized over writing in code. If it was intercepted and someone understood what she was asking for Malfoy could be in serious trouble. She had finally decided on a muggle based story to camouflage her request. Malfoy wouldn’t know what in the world she was talking about but she had no doubt that he could rise to the challenge. The signature was the worst. Hermione usually signed Luv, but that of course wouldn’t do. And sincerely or regards seemed far too formal when requesting illegal supplies from someone you had swapped spit with. At last in frustration she had just put her code name.

And then she had waited all summer and never heard a peep. She had thought about it far too much. Finally deciding that he must regret the moments that they had shared. It stood to logic that if you had a heavy petting session with someone and then they never bothered to call you again, then obviously they were uninterested. However logic deserted her where this grey eyed boy was concerned. He was the antitheses to everything logic. If logic even slightly applied to him then they would have never been sharing a lip lock to begin with. Because logically he should not be watching out for her. And logically she should hate everything about him. She hated it when the world didn’t make sense. She shot him another dark look for confusing her so badly.

He was of course too busy holding court at the Slytherin table to pay her any mind so she got to her feet with a huff. She stooped to gather up her bundle and stopped at a gentle had on her arm. “Mione, where are you off to? Are you feeling ok?”

“There’s just too many people here Harry.” She gave him a reassuring smile, turning once again to gather her things, keeping the book carefully concealed. “I have a bit of a headache and want to have a lie down before everyone gets up to the dorms. I’ve got a prefect meeting later this afternoon as well. And everyone will be grumbling something awful because it’s a Saturday…” She let her voice trail off, giving him another small grin over her shoulder as she walked away quickly.

“Hermione!” Harry called, getting out of his seat and she turned back to him, questioning. “You left your schedule.” He picked it up and walked it over to her and she knew she was gaping life a fish. She’d been so distracted by Malfoy and the bundle in her arms that she had left without her schedule. That was so completely unlike her. She blushed and shifted her sheets to one hand to take the schedule from Harry. “Mione, are you sure you’re all right? I know you got in a fight with Malfoy this morning but usually you’re gushing about that schedule.”

“I’ll be fine Harry.” She said, needing to wipe that look of worry from his handsome features. His scar was more prominent because of the adorable worry lines in his forehead, and his brilliant green eyes were wide and anxious. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ll be more myself after I have a nap. We’ll go over our schedules then.” She turned to go and this time he did not delay her, but when she glanced over her shoulder he was still standing there, arms akimbo, watching her. Something about the way he stood made Hermione think of “him” and she let her eyes seek him out to find him watching her as well. She felt her face grow hot and turned quickly, daring out the door with little to no dignity or grace.

Hermione walked quickly, deliberately slowing her steps several times when she realized that she was bordering on running. Head girl candidates did not run through the halls. Besides it wouldn’t do to look suspicious. She loosened her grip on the bundle in her arms and tried to walk casually but briskly, as if she had somewhere important to be and no time to dawdle.

After an eternity she finally managed to reach her room that she shared with three other girls in the Gryffindor dormitories. She let out a relieved breath she hadn’t realized she was holding on finding it empty and deserted. She quickly clambered onto her bed, pulling the bed hangings closed and whipping out her wand to perform several high level binding and silencing charms. She didn’t really think that such elaborate spells were necessary but her “adventures” over the last several years had ingrained cautiousness into her brain. Besides, it never hurt to practice.

She pulled the sheets apart, draping them around her, loving the luxurious feel of the silky material sliding against her skin. She pulled the heavy book into her lap and traced the outline of the design on front with a gentle finger. It was a wizard with billowing robes standing amidst a whirling thunderstorm. His hands were raised into the air and he wore an intense look of concentration. It was without title on the cover or the spine. She carefully opened the cover, who knew how old this was, and found a piece of parchment folded up inside.

The paper was thick and heavy cream. There was a subtle scent as she opened it slowly. It reeked of money.

Red,

This novel has been in my family for generations. A heirloom really. It’s an interesting read, well within your range of interest, and I’m sure you will find it enlightening. Hopefully you will get more from it than the frivolous fancy I found in the public London library. I’m quite certain the woman who works there thinks me quite mad. By the time I stumbled on the children’s section she was giving me nervous looks.

I would recommend staying out of the woods entirely but if you simply must go to Grandma’s house you must equip yourself properly. I hear that the Whomping Willow is particularly interesting between 10:00 and 11:00 O’clock on a Saturday morning. It may be worth your time to check it out. If not entirely wise.

The Big Bad Wolf

Malfoy’s scrawl was long and elegant. It made her own hasty scribbles seem childish and sloppy in comparison. She read it over a second time, giggling. She could just picture him in a muggle library. Did he go in his robes? Surely he would have gone in disguise. She repressed a shiver at the thought of Draco decked out in jeans. There wasn’t really anyway to stay out of it, she hadn’t started this fight and she couldn’t just stand aside. He was right about meeting him. It was probably foolish to go. She was opening a whole new can of worms.

After all, she hadn’t really had much control over their previous meetings. And all but the last two had been pretty innocent. She’d thought endlessly about his desperate kisses, but really had no idea what to do about it. Or what she wanted him to do about it. But willingly going to him…meeting him in secret behind her friends back was a completely different ballgame. That was admitting she wanted to see him again. And the truth was she did. God help her, she did. And perhaps that alone was reason enough to stay away.

He’d signed the letter Big Bad Wolf. Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? Make her trust him so that he could use her in one of his twisted death eater plots. She was no mind reader but she really didn’t think so. Hermione was an observer of people, and that just wasn’t his style. Perhaps in his younger years, but not now. And not with her. Whatever this was between them, it was vibrant and terrifying and real. So real that even months since the last time he had touched her she could still feel the echo of his caresses on her skin. More likely he was appalled at being pegged the woodcutter, who was entirely too wholesome to identify with Draco Malfoy.

She had two hours to fill. She sat down the parchment and was startled when the words faded from the page. It must have been attuned to her. She tried picking it up again but no words appeared. She grabbed her wand and tried a dozen revealing spells, frustrated. She supposed there would be no correspondence keepsakes. The spell was obviously quite clever and Hermione wandered how he had spelled the paper to respond only to her. Or maybe it was only spelled to disappear once it was read by anyone. She resolved to research the technique. It could certainly be useful when writing to Harry and Ron.

Folding the parchment up she tucked it back in the book and opened to the first page. She would fool with the letter later. She was especially good at breaking all sorts of charms and looked at it as a particularly good challenge. The print was excruciatingly tiny and minced no words. Malfoy had picked up on exactly what she had wanted.


Wandless magic requires complete focus and attention. Despite common belief, all magic creatures are capable of basic spells without the aid of a magic focusing aid, such as a wand. Magic is housed in the blood and requires a steady focal point and deep mental stimulation in order to project it outside the body. With enough determination, sheer will, and practice one can learn to center their magical energies and propel them outside the spear of their personal aura in the form of either raw magic or spells.

The most common tool for attaining this type of result is the use of a magic wand. Usually made of wood or some other natural substance, a wand’s heart is often an object with powerful magical properties such as unicorn hair. The magical substance acts as a tuning fork and eases the projection of magical properties outside the individual aura of the host with minimal side affects, often not even noted by the castor. A much rarer alternative is to create an appendage with a magical heart to wear on the body, such as a piece of jewelry or clothing.

Learning to project one’s magical energies without the aid of a magical focus piece is infinitely more frustrating. The magical prowess of the castor will determine the scope of magic one can perform bare of all assistance. Magical strength is critical. A magical focus acts as a channel and often amplifies the strength of the spell. Without this amplification the castor must have the magical strength to complete the spell without assistance.

A combination of a magic wand, a magical focus piece, and wandless magic is possible so long as the castor is aware of how each piece affects the others and adjusts accordingly. Once the castor has attained some skill with wandless projection there will be a resonance in their blood and spell casting in traditional ways will be altered by this echo. Also the wearing of a magical object minimizes the focus of a traditional magic wand. These alternate magical arts should only be attempted by the most advanced determined students. Even if no great success is achieved, the side affects will be permanent and will have to be dealt with.

The text went into more detail and Hermione was absolutely fascinated. She was most curious about why wandless magic had been outlawed and resolved to look into it. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with being harmful in any way and more to do with the tracking spell built into her wand. She wondered absently just how much trouble she would be in if anyone found out that she had disabled it. When she had done it she had thought that it was just to track student activities. Perhaps next time she was at the burrow she could skive one of the twins wands, or Percy’s wand and see if perhaps the tracking spell had dissolved when they came of age or if every spell they did was still being recorded. And just who got that information anyway? Surely the ministry…

After reading the introduction she skimmed through the text stopping and reading passages that related to side effects. Nothing harmful or disfiguring. Mostly the author seemed to stress that wandless casting would change the way she did magic to a large extent. There was also a large excerpt about how the mental stimulation would stretch her magical potential and increase her magical strength.

That looked promising.

She’d bet money Malfoy could do it.

And there was no way she was going to let him be better than her. At anything.

She would love to see the look on those bastard’s faces if they took her wand away and she still managed to blast them into the wall, or out the window, or into space…She deliberately changed her train of thought. She didn’t really like to think about her “experience” this summer. She had done her bouts of crying, she had done what she could to put it behind her. And she was taking definite steps to see it didn’t happen again. Learning wandless magic was a logical step in that process.

She glanced at her watch and sucked in a deep breath. 9:25. She would have to run to make it to the Whomping Willow. But even with every cell in her brain crying out that this probably wasn’t a good idea, she didn’t even consider not going. She shoved the book under her pillow, doing a quick…almost sloppy concealment charm. Waved her wand and transfigured her slip on shoes to converse, and whipped off her robes so they wouldn’t get in her way. Hermione ran through the common room only slowing to a fast walk when she reached the halls of Hogwarts. She ignored the looks she received for wearing jeans; it wasn’t as if she was wearing fluffy bunny slippers or something. It was a Saturday; she ought to be able to wear whatever she wanted for crying out loud.

She breached the doors and broke into an all out sprint. This summer’s martial arts classes had included endurance training and she had developed a fondness for running. She stretched out her long legs and pumped her arms, flying across the ground. She slowed slightly when she entered the forbidden forest, dodging trees and treacherous roots. Malfoy was reclining in a Slytherin green arm chair, clashing horribly with the forest, just out of reach of the straining arms of the Willow. Hermione stumbled to a stop and became conscious of her flushed skin and ragtag outfit. She hadn’t really thought of the consequences of sprinting a mile but now that she was looking at his pristine self, suddenly the light sheen of sweat on her brow and her unruly curls were a problem. She thought about her appearance so rarely…really only around him.

He rolled to his feet gracefully, immaculate robes falling perfectly around his tall frame. Not a hair was out of place, falling silkily around his ears. He waved one long fingered elegant hand and the armchair disappeared. But things didn’t disappear…she noticed a rather large branch and guessed he must have transfigured the chair from it. Her eyes fastened on a beautiful silver band on his hand, a serpent with a glowing red eye, and wondered if it had a magical core. He could definitely do wandless magic then. Had probably learned it in the cradle. His flawlessness brought her own frumpiness into sharp relief and Hermione found herself wishing for a hairbrush.

They stood and stared at each other for an eternity. Finally he spoke and his voice washed over her like waves of dark chocolate.

“Do you know the secret of the Willow?”

“Yes.” God she was inane around him.

“Probably know more about it than I do.” He replied, his lip turning up in a familiar expression that though condescending was becoming dear to her. “Since you are so athletic all of a sudden why don’t you do the honors?”

What was wrong with her? How could she find that condescending upper class drawl in any way attractive? She needed to have her head examined. At least she wasn’t alone in her insanity. Half the female population drooled over his silky tones, and the other half over his silky hair. Not to mention the gushing over his cocky swagger and his Quidditch muscles. At least she kept her opinions to herself, if not her eyes. Realizing she was just standing there staring into his eyes like an idiot she spun and ducked the swinging arms of the tree so she could press in the burly knot that held the tree immobile. Malfoy strolled under the branches as if taking a daily stroll through the garden and Hermione forced down a sharp thread of annoyance. What was she, a doorwoman? He did see that she was standing here holding the bloody knot while he took his time, didn’t he?

He motioned for her to precede him and they darted into the secret passageway that led to the shrieking shack. As usual she hadn’t given much thought to her clothes but these particular jeans did hug her bum awfully tight and she became painfully aware that Malfoy was ghosting along behind her and could see every little sway. She deliberately tried to keep her hips from swinging too much. She jumped and came to a stop, her breath catching in her throat when she felt his warm hand on her hip, his warm breath on her ear. “Relax gorgeous. We’re just going to practice a little magic. We’re not plotting world domination or anything.”

He nudged her forward a bit and her feet set into motion again, but he didn’t remove his hand and kept step with her, his feet mirroring hers so that he didn’t trod on her feet. “One would think spending years hanging around with Potty and the Weasel you would have become at least slightly more comfortable with breaking a rule or two. Those slimy gits seem to write the rules as they go.”

“Don’t insult my friends.” She tossed over her shoulder, falling more into her usual gait as her annoyance with him distracted her from keeping her hips from swaying. She probably looked like she had a stick shoved up her bum anyways.

“Or is it the company that makes you uncomfortable? After all, I highly doubt anyone knows you’re here.”

“Are you trying to be intimidating?” She let out a sharp little laugh, shaking her head and adopting her own condescending tone. “I am not uncomfortable and find no reason that I should be.” He moved his hand forward, gliding over the fabric of her cotton shirt, along her stomach. She sucked in her breath sharply, leaned back slightly, and completely ruined any credibility she had. His low sinister chuckle tickled the hairs on the back of her neck and her breath hitched again uncontrollably. No wonder his ego was so swelled. She was acting like a complete ninny.

“But no one knows you’re here.”

She heaved a sigh of relief as the narrow corridor opened up into the ground floor of the shack and there was room to move away from him and his disturbing touch. She ignored the question, statement, whatever…and she avoided his eyes. Looking around the pitiful room instead. She had only been here once and it seemed to be in even worse repair than the last time. “You remember Professor Lupin? You knew he was a Werewolf? He caught the curse when he was a student here at Hogwarts and used to spend his cursed days here so he couldn’t harm anyone. There weren’t the potions to control it that there are now, you know. It’s really not fair the way he is treated by society, the ministry is so narrow minded.”

Hermione continued to chatter, not knowing what to do. Not wanting to look at him. He was right. No one knew where she was. She was alone with a boy, in an abandoned shack. She didn’t need to be back until the prefects meeting at 7:00. She was alone with the only boy who could make her melt like a puddle on the dirt floor with just a touch on her waist. She turned to walk back to the other end of the hut and found him directly in her path. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel his breath on her face. He reached into his pocket silently and drew out a small box.

Her curiosity stemmed the tide of her nervous sting of words and she held her breath as he flipped open the box. “I had this made for you this summer. A very reliable source. Discreet too.”

He reached inside, picking up the pendant by the chain and letting it swirl in the filtered light. It was a silver dragon with a brilliant red eye. “May I?” Not knowing what else to do she presented her back, sweeping her hair carelessly out of the way. Hopeless mop. She held her breath to still her erratic breathing as he reached around her to place the chain on her and then fiddled with the clasp. She looked down at the charm. She could feel the magic pulsing within, much like the bond with her wand, but it was different. And there was a distortion, an echo.

The detail was exquisite, beautifully sculpted sweeping wings, and the eye almost seemed alive. “Malfoy it’s beautiful.” His hands left the clasp and trailed down her neck to her shoulders and she was forced to take a breath as she became dizzy from the lack of air. Or perhaps it was his touch, branding her skin right through the thin material of her top. “What is it that makes it pulse like that? I can feel it, it’s….powerful.” She said even as she turned, looking up into his swirling gray eyes. She felt bold, reckless, and wondered if it was a side affect of the magic in the necklace.

“The stone is made from Dragon’s Blood.”