Entwined

A/N - first off, I'd like to thank darkheartchick for the sole review last chapter. I really appreciate it.
And I hope the rest of you silent readers continue to enjoy this story. I've left it with a bit of a cliffhanger, and I can't help but hope (in my somewhat eniebriated state at the moment,I might add) that it might encourage a bit more response from my more reticent readers. Nevertheless, I hope you like it...

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Desdemona made it home safely and without running into Draco. She had one close call on the train home, but Emma had pulled her into a compartment just in time before Draco spotter either of them. They stayed put the entire time to avoid any potentially awkward run-ins.

She had been home for two days now though and it was time to see Draco. She had finally gotten up the courage to walk over to the Malfoy Manor. She wore corduroy pants, a heavy sweater and a long black jacket with a hood, but she still shivered as she made her way across her property, around the lake and up the large hill to the looming house. It was early afternoon but the day was overcast and the air smelled of snow. As she neared the manor she was able to pick out Draco’s room and saw a warm light emanating from within. She walked around the house and rang at the huge ebony front doors.

It took a minute or two but finally Narcissa came to the door. “Hello, Desdemona. Can I help you?” asked the woman coolly.

“I’d like to see Draco, please,” she replied, keeping her voice calm. She always disliked having to deal with Draco’s parents, even more so now that she had been to school and heard all the horrible stories people told about the family, in particular Lucius. However, she refused to lose her composure in front of them knowing the Malfoys despised any sign of weakness.

Narcissa visibly stiffened. “I’m afraid Draco is not at home. Can I give him a message?”

Desdemona had enough. She knew full well that Draco was home. She walked into the house uninvited and past a bewildered Narcissa. “No, thank you. I’ll tell him myself,” she said. Before Narcissa could stop her, she was heading up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the second floor where she headed to Draco’s door. She paused outside, noticing that the woman made no attempt to follow. That figured. It wasn’t dignified for a Malfoy to run under such circumstances. Now, Desdemona contemplated what to do. This had not been part of the plan. She had envisioned a civilized conversation between them but now she was boiling with anger at the boy. She opened the door and strode into the room where a very startled Draco looked at her from the window seat in his room. So…he had seen her coming then and probably told his mother not to let her in. She threw his cloak at him. “Here. I was going to be nice, but you’re impossible. So I’ve come to tell you that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat. And I don’t care if you continue to be mean to me because now I know that’s really who you are and I can’t change that. So we can just go our own ways and then you can take your stupid ring back and I won’t have to think of you ever again. You could have at least had the decency to let me in and see me but you’re nothing but a coward. You’ve hurt me continuously over the past three years and for something that I had absolutely no control over. You were the one who abandoned me. Then you belittled and mocked me endlessly and I just let it eat away at me. But that’s not going to happen anymore.” She couldn’t believe it but she actually felt tears pricking at her eyes and fighting them back only made her bottom lip quiver. She hated that he was the only person who could evoke such emotions from her. But he sat there stoically, his cold eyes simply waiting for her to continue. His face was void of all emotion. “And I really thought that I might like you. But now I don’t even want to be near you,” she said. She didn’t wait for an answer but stiffly turned and headed towards the door.

“Wait,” she heard him say quietly behind her. She paused by the door but did not turn around. “You must be freezing.” She hesitantly turned. In the hotness of her current temperament she didn’t realize that her fingers were still aching from the cold hike. She began to dread the walk back home. Draco was now standing next to a large armchair that sat in front of a blazing fire. “Come sit and warm up before you go back,” he said gently.

She cautiously took a step but stalled. “Only because I’m freezing. And I’m not talking.”

He nodded and ushered her to the chair. He took a seat on the ottoman which he had moved to the side so the warmth of the fire would reach her. “May I speak?” he asked. Desdemona said nothing but stared blankly into the fire. “Oh, that’s right, you’re not talking so you can’t answer. I suppose that’s a ‘yes’ then.” She turned her head slowly and glared at him. “Thank you for returning my cloak.” She turned her head back towards the fire which was nicely warming her frozen limbs. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of answering. Nothing could make her change her mind.

“I’m sorry.”

Except maybe for that. She was thrown off guard and so she looked at him again. He moved so he was kneeling by her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I understand if you don’t want to speak to me ever again. I was horrible to you, but I don’t want you to remember me like that. I had no idea how badly I hurt you. Half the time it was only to try to get a rise out of you. And I can’t change it, but I promise I’ll never do it again. I’m sorry.” She did not want to believe him and let him once again slip past her defense, but she knew he was being sincere. His voice was quiet and meek, and she had come to recognize that he would only speak as such when they were alone together. Her hands had been limply lying in her lap until then, but she slowly raised her hand to brush the back of her fingers from the top of his cheek down to his chin. Even as her still cool fingers brushed his skin they both knew she had forgiven him. He took her straying hand in his. “Will you talk now?” he asked, slightly smiling but still not pressing his luck with a full out grin.

She tried to hide her own smile and act coy. Not yet ready to completely give in. “Maybe,” she said.

“In that case...would you be my date to the Christmas party tomorrow evening? That is, if you’re not coming down with anything.” He looked at her imploringly.

She sighed, “Well, I have been brewing a potion for a nasty five hour fever. But it’s starting to smell underneath my bed, so I suppose I could chuck it and go with you.”

“Good. I might as well tell you this now,” he began, looking at her hesitantly, “but Pansy will be there. So even if you don’t really want to go for me, you can go to make her jealous.”

“I’ll go for you,” she said.

“Thank you,” was the reply along with, to Desdemona’s surprise, a soft kiss to the hand he held. They both averted their eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s starting to snow. Would you like me to walk you home?” he asked rising to his feet so that Desdemona followed.

“No, I’ll be okay,” she smiled. “But, you might want to deal with your mum. I don’t think she’s quite pleased with me at the moment.”

Draco nodded, understanding that she had probably entered the house without permission, and accompanied her downstairs to let her out. The girl arrived home to find her mother already home from the shopping trip she had left for earlier in the day. Desdemona’s shoes and coat were damp from the snow outside and her mother chastised her for tracking the water through the hall as she headed towards her room. “Where have you been anyway?” her mother questioned.

“I was at the Malfoy’s,” she replied almost dreamily.

Her mother followed her up the few stairs she had climbed and felt her forehead. “They’re Christmas party is tomorrow night, you know. How are you feeling?” she touched her hand to her daughters forehead. “You always get a bit ill this time of year.”

“I feel fine,” she said. “I’m going to be Draco’s date tomorrow night.”

Her mother would never go so far as to ‘beam’ but Desdemona noted that she looked quite pleased. “That’s lovely dear. I bought your dress today. I’ll have Clementine bring it up so you can try it on. And change out of those damp clothes before dinner!”

Desdemona retired to her room. She listened for any noise in the hallway, but no sound came. The house elf would probably still be another few minutes with her dress so she retrieved her cauldron from under her bed and did a quick vanishing spell.

“Things go as planned?” asked Orli casually.

“Not quite, but it’ll do,” smiled Desdemona in reply to the serpent.

Although Desdemona usually tried to despise the elegant, expensive dresses that her mother purchased, she had to admit that this one was beautiful. It was full length with a black full skirt that rose to meet a red corseted top that laced up the back with black ribbon. On the night of the gala her mother tightly tied up the back of the dress in her room. “We’re leaving in the carriage in five minutes,” the woman said heading out the door, her own black dress flowing in her wake. Desdemona did not argue the fact that they were taking the carriage. She had spent all morning trying to convince her mother that it was insane to take the carriage on a twenty minute ride on the country roads when the Malfoys practically lived in their back yard. Her mother insisted that it was a formal event and so they would arrive in a formal manner, not simply burst through the front door. (This was no doubt a reference to her daughter’s behavior the previous day which she surely heard about from Narcissa.) But as Desdemona stood in her room she no longer cared about the formalities of the event. She was happy to be going with Draco and even happier at the effect the constricted corset had on her cleavage, even though her breathing was slightly impaired by the constrictive garment.

A short while later Desdemona and her parents were leaving their carriage, which her father had enchanted to drive itself. They made their way into the parlor where the Malfoys were lined up and welcoming their guests. She followed in her parents footsteps, greeting first Lucius (she held back a shiver), then Narcissa, and finally stopping before Draco. He made a show of bowing deeply and kissing her hand, which his mother responded to with a quick jab to his ribs with her bony elbow. Desdemona fought back a giggle and went to join her family and the rest of the stuck up guests who were surely waiting inside. However, Draco caught her arm and brought her to stand beside him. “As my date you get to stand here with me and help greet all of our wonderful guests this evening.” She groaned inwardly, but Draco’s biting sarcasm helped ease her annoyance. At least he wasn’t enjoying this either.

It took nearly an hour for all the guests to arrive and she began to loathe the people who thought it was fashionable to be a bit late. She was surprised at the guest list though. She always knew Lucius could pull strings and now she knew exactly how he did it. Nearly all the heads of departments in the ministry were there, and even Cornelius Fudge made an appearance. (Although he did not stay for very long. She figured he and his wife had a plethora of social obligations to meet that night.)

One of the last families to arrive were the Parkinsons. Draco introduced Desdemona and they exchanged hellos. “I’m sorry Pansy couldn’t be here tonight,” said Mrs. Parkinson to both of them. “She seems to have come down with a terrible fever just this afternoon.”

Draco’s arm was around her waist and she felt him give a slight squeeze. She enjoyed the little inside joke immensely. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Parkinson. It would have been nice to have another girl in our year here,” she said, her voice sated with mock sympathy. “Do tell her I hope she’s feeling better soon.”

Not long later, they were relieved of their post and were able to join the rest of the party. In the great dining room there were many tables set up for the occasion. The walls were tastefully decorated with garlands that stuck to the wall with deep, red velvet bows. In the center of the room stood possibly the most beautiful and grandest Christmas tree Desdemona had ever seen outside of Hogwarts. It was at least ten feet tall. It’s full, round bush was decorated from top to bottom with shining silver baubles which seemed to have an aura of glowing light around them. Around the tree floated candles and at the top there was a golden shining ball of light that could have been mistaken for a real star. Amongst the many guests floated bewitched silver platters carrying hors d'oeuvres and the goblets of drink and champagne flutes seemed to be magically refilling themselves.

It looked as if dinner was about to begin as the hovering trays of appetizers began to float back to the kitchen and great trays of dinner glided towards a long table set up buffet style for the meal. Desdemona and Draco ate their dinner at a table with their parents. Everyone seemed to be in a spirited mood and the meal passed uneventfully. After dinner, an old phonograph played festive tunes and several couples began to dance, Desdemona’s parents included. “Do you feel like dancing?” asked Draco.

“Not, really,” replied Desdemona truthfully. A tray of champagne floated by and she took the opportunity to steal a flute and quickly downed it in a few gulps. It was her third glass of the evening.

“Yeah, me either,” the boy replied, taking her empty glass and setting it on a table. He had also been partaking in the drinking when adult supervision was not around. “Come on, let’s get out of here for a while.” He grabbed her hand and began to drag her toward the kitchen.

She stopped him right before the door. “We can’t! My parents-“

“Please, your father’s been eyeing that young witch from the ministry all night and your mother is…well, she’s a little more than half in the bag. Plus my parents are so preoccupied trying to schmooze everyone, they’ll hardly notice if we slip out for a bit.” He did not give her time to respond but swiftly pulled her through the doors to the kitchen when he was sure no one was looking. Inside, a busy little house elf gave a jolt and a shiver of fear as the pair entered.

“I’m sorry master! Clacky is working as fast as possible and the pudding will be done in a few minutes!” squeaked the little elf as he scampered around the kitchen, moving a high pile of dirty dishes towards the sink. They wobbled as his nervous hands shook and Desdemona worried that the cutlery was going to come crashing down.

“Oh, sod off. I’m not my mother. I don’t care about the damn dessert. Go fetch Desdemona’s coat and my own,” ordered Draco. The elf bowed deeply and backed out of the room.

“Where exactly are we going?” asked the girl, giving Draco an inquisitive look as he headed towards a nearby cupboard.

“I feel like flying,” he replied.

“Draco, I’m in a dress. And it’s snowing. We can’t-“

“Well, you can do it the old fashioned way, all side-saddle like if you want, but I don’t see how you’ll win any race. Plus we have coats. No problem!” He turned is attention back to sorting through a jumble in the pantry.

“Ok, well I don’t have a broom. It’s at my house. Sorry, I’ll have to politely decline your offer.”

“Lucky for you, I have a spare,” he grinned. She sighed and noticed the house elf wobbling back into their room, their two burly coats weighing her down. They bundled up and went to leave by means of the kitchen door which led out to the veranda. Before he closed the door, Draco glared sternly at the house elf. “Don’t tell mum where we are,” he said before closing the door behind him and meeting Desdemona. “Remember the old course?” he asked.

“Of course. Round the far right bank of the lake, then around the far left chimney of my house and end underneath the willow. Draco, I could do this in my sleep. And I won’t be doing it ‘all side-saddle like,’” she mocked. They mounted their brooms and Desdemona said, “On your mark….” then quickly took off flying before “set” or “go” ever left her mouth. She heard the curses Draco muttered under his breath but really, after fourteen years, he should have been expecting it. Plus, she knew he would have given himself the advantage of taking the faster broom so it was only fair. She concentrated hard and drove the broom as fast as she could, hoping to keep her early lead. Draco was inching closer as she rounded the chimney but she kept at it. Despite the fact that the full dress and heavy coat added to the drag and the constricting corset caused her to become even more winded than she normally would, she still managed to set down beneath the weeping willow a fraction of a second quicker than Draco.

“You cheated!” he immediately accused.

“You had a faster broom!” she replied.

“Well, it was still an unfair advantage!”

“I’m in a dress,” she finally stated, more matter of factly than anything and mostly due to the fact that she was still quite winded and lacked any better reply.

Draco seemed to meditate on this for a moment as he looked her up and down. She silently celebrated she hadn’t bothered to do up her coat before they left the manor. “Yes, you are,” he said and stepped a bit closer to her. He took her broom and leaned it up against the tree with his own. He placed his hands on her waist, and brought him closer to her, his head now a mere inches from hers so she could see the snowflakes that still lay on his eyelashes and in his hair from their race. “Promise not to tell?” he asked, in a voice much deeper and heavier than their childhood days. His breath was warm against her lips.

“I don’t think this counts as practice anymore,” she said.

His reply came in a smirk that lay gently on her lips. His lips lingered, lightly against hers for a moment, until she moved so her arms rested on his shoulders and her fingertips played with the hair at the nape of his neck. He seemed to take this as a sign and pulled her closer to him so their bodies were flush against each other. And, almost tentatively, she felt his tongue sliding along her bottom lip. She pulled him even closer, if that was possible, and deepened their kiss. They were a dizzying mix of tongues and lips. His white blonde hair was like silk between her fingers and as he held her close, tightening his grip further, she was finally forced to draw her lips away from his.

They were quiet for a moment, eyes still closed, and they pressed their foreheads against each other. She felt his breath along her cheek, a sensation that had long become an ancient past of hers. She felt light headed and whether it was from the alcohol, the kiss, or the residual effects of their recent race, she could not tell. He seemed to sense this discord though and whispered gently against her check, “Are you alright?”

“Just lightheaded,” she replied, trying to play it off coolly. She was still not willing to admit to him or herself that he seemed to have some unspeakable power over her.

“Yes, well, I suppose I have that effect on girls.” The joke was lighthearted and she laughed at his unabashed egotism.

And then she realized it was more than a simple lightheadedness. She was unable to regain her breath. She was unable to breath at all. She broke away from him and leaned against the tree for support. The old weeping willow was the only thing supporting her from falling into the snow filled ground. She could not catch her breath and the lightheaded feeling turned to a sickening dizzy spell that she simply could not break from.

“Dessi?”

His concerned voice was the only thing that kept her conscious as she felt his body closer to her and let go of the tree and left him to support her weight. Her own legs could no longer hold her and the dizziness began to fade into black.