Patented Daydream Charms
Chapter 7
Chapter 7
The week had started
splendidly. Harry and Ron had finally
been released from the infirmary and Hermione was so happy about it she even
forgot to be angry with either of them. The
week prior had been horrid for her.
First Hermione’s trusted sanctuary, the library, had seemed unwilling to
cooperate with her. She had looked
everywhere to find anything on Horcruxes, everywhere, even in the most horrible
books with the most gruesome potions, and found nothing except ‘of the Horcrux,
wickedest of magical interventions, we shall not speak nor give
direction.’ Honestly, why mention it
then? Then there had been the incident
with the bezoar. Even though she wasn’t
angry anymore, Hermione still thought it was unjust. She had worked like crazy to finish her
potion, which she hadn’t even managed to do, had even chopped off a chunk of
her own hair and Slughorn hadn’t even so much as looked at it. Oh no, it was all about Harry and his
bezoar. On the other hand, if Harry hadn’t
used the bezoar he probably wouldn’t have remembered its use against poisoning,
and Ron would surely have died. The
thought of losing Ron was unbearable itself; him dying
after Hermione had not spoken to him for weeks was such a painful thought, it
physically hurt. And then Harry with his
cracked skull... honestly how much more could go wrong in one week? Hermione was immensely relieved to see them
healthy and happy beside her.Now she was a bit curious about
Harry’s sudden interest in the fight between Ginny and Dean. If she didn’t know any better, Hermione might
suspect Harry had started fancying Ginny... or Dean, who knew? In any case, she was positively thrilled
about the chilliness between Ron and Lavender.
Hermione couldn’t stop smirking when noticing Lavender’s sudden
jealousness towards her, as if she was about to steal her boyfriend. Imagine that, Hermione Granger stealing
someone’s boyfriend. That sounded rather
good actually, but Hermione never stole.
Could it be considered stealing if Ron were to happily leap into her
embrace? No, she didn’t think so. Not that she could steal him
anyway, because by the end of the week, Lavender had broken up with Ron. Harry’s Felix Felicis must have rubbed some
luck off on Hermione. Harry also seemed
to be quite pleased with himself when she told him Ginny and Dean had split
up. She still wasn’t certain if it was
Ginny or Dean he fancied; one could never be sure with Harry.
Yes, the past few days had been
brilliant, yet things had started spiralling downwards only halfway through the
week.
won’t say ‘I told you so’,” said Hermione. “Leave
it, Hermione,” said Ron angrily. “I
told you there was something wrong with that Prince person,” Hermione
said. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” “No,
I don’t think you were,” said Harry stubbornly. “Harry,”
said Hermione. “How can you still stick
up for that book when that spell-” “Will
you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It’s not like he was advising anyone to use
it! For all we know, he was making a
note of something that had been used against him!” “I
don’t believe this,” said Hermione.
“You’re actually defending-” “I’m
not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly.
“I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I have about a dozen
detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used
a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can’t blame the Prince, he
hadn’t written ‘Try this out, it’s really good’ – he was just making notes for
himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else...” “Are
you telling me,” said Hermione, “that you’re going to go back –” “And
get the book? Yeah, I am,” said Harry
forcefully. “Listen, without the prince
I’d never have won the Felix Felicis.
I’d never have known how to save Ron from poisoning, I’d never have –” “-
got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don’t deserve,” said Hermione
nastily. “Give
it a rest, Hermione!” said Ginny. “By
the sound of it Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be
glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!” “Well,
of course I’m glad Harry wasn’t cursed,” Hermione said, “but you can’t call that Sectumsempra
spell good, Ginny, look where it’s landed him!
And I’d have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the
match –” “Oh,
don’t start acting as though you understand Quidditch,” snapped Ginny, “you’ll
only embarrass yourself.” Hermione
huffed, crossed her arms in front of her chest and turned the other way to
glare at the wall. Had everyone gone
insane? Of course, Hermione was glad
Harry hadn’t been cursed, but for goodness sake, he had almost ripped Malfoy’s
intestines out! When she had first heard
what had happened she had almost fainted.
Even though she didn’t like Malfoy, the way she felt about his near
escape from death had been close to the way she had felt about hearing about
Ron’s poisoning. Ever since, she
frequently caught herself trying to pry feelings of compassion towards Malfoy
out of her friends, to get some validation for the way she felt about the situation;
to make sure it was normal to feel this upset about seeing an enemy get
hurt. She
knew her distress wasn’t normal and she knew why that was; Hermione might not
like Malfoy, but she did lust after him.
His personality might not be like the men in her dreams, he might even
physically look paler and skinnier than they did, but she still couldn’t look
at him without feeling emptiness inside of her.
The sight of Ron made her feel warm and the sight of Malfoy made her
feel empty. Hermione didn’t really know
what this meant, but whenever she touched herself at night, it was always
Malfoy she saw; sometimes he was a waiter on a ship, an escaped convict, a
wounded soldier, a god, or sometimes he was just Malfoy, the stupid brat that
had obviously gotten himself into a situation he couldn’t handle anymore. *
Draco was thoroughly pissed
off. Everywhere he went, Potter was
there. At the start of term he had
caught the boy spying on him in the Hogwarts Express. Then he was positively eavesdropping during
Apparition Lesson. When Potter had run
into him before the Gryffindor/Huffelpuff Quidditch match, Draco had been sure
Pothead had almost been willing to miss the game so he could follow him. The boy was positively stalking him! Potter was obviously aware Draco was up to
something, but he also didn’t seem to have a clue what it was.
Slughorn’s oak-matured mead, which Draco had poisoned, Potter might not toddle
after him everywhere he went as if Draco had a ‘follow me!’-sign stuck to his
back. Or if Weasley must have drunk it,
let it have finished him off. But no,
Weasley was still alive and another one of Draco’s schemes to kill Dumbledore
had been shot down the drain.
Brilliant! Now Draco found himself flat on his
back in the hospital wing, because of Potter! He didn’t remember much of
the incident itself, except for searing pain in his face and chest. Now that Draco knew there wasn’t going to be
any scarring on his face and body, the thing that bothered him most about the
confrontation was the fact that Potter had witnessed him crying. The spell Potter had cast had stung, but the
humiliation of having him see Draco that vulnerable stung even more. At the time, when Draco had first spotted the
eavesdropper, Draco had simply wanted Potter to go away, leave him alone and
not remember what he had seen. That was
why he had tried casting an Unforgivable curse.
It didn’t really make much sense.
It had probably made things worse, but it’d been an automatic reaction
to Potter’s sudden presence. Draco was probably lucky that
Potter had cast that awful curse; otherwise, he would surely be expelled and
sent to Azkaban right now. On the other
hand, he would be much safer there, however horrible of a place it might
be. No more Vanishing Cabinet, no more
threats to kill Draco or his family, no more Voldemort, no more Dumbledore, no
nothing except for his own misery. Draco
could deal with his misery, as long as there wasn’t anymore misery added
to it. Perhaps that was why he had tried
casting an Unforgivable on Pothead, because he wanted out; he was prepared to
go to prison so all this would stop. But it wasn’t going to stop. Not until he mended that cupboard. He only had a couple more weeks before the
end of term. He had to make it
work, even thought it seemed hopeless.And even if he managed to get the
cabinet to work, could he do it? Could
he kill Dumbledore? Draco wasn’t fond of
the old coot, but he didn’t want him dead. He had never killed anyone before and he
wasn’t sure if it was something he’d be capable of, let alone do it to someone
he had known for six years. Draco
remembered watching his aunt use the Avada Kedavra on a stray cat this summer. It had looked so simple; too
simple. One second it was a living
animal, the next it was an empty shell.
It just seemed wrong. On the other hand, perhaps that was
the ideal way to die; to barely realise that it happened, no pain and no
prolonged suffering. It had been almost
five years since Draco’s grandmother – from his father’s side - had died, but
he still vividly recalled the final months of her life. It had been an awful thing to watch; one
almost wished she would die. She had
been an old woman and dementia had rotted her brain. In the end, she couldn’t eat anymore, barely
even spoke and slept most of the time.
The last time Draco had visited her at the hospital bed - the day before
she died - she had looked at him questioningly and had asked him who he was. When he had told her his name, no recognition
was to be seen in her eyes. Then she had
asked him if he knew the girl was that was sitting behind him. Draco had said no. There was no girl sitting behind him, there
had been nothing but an empty wall.
Perhaps the Avada Kedavra wasn’t so bad.
Perhaps dying young was a blessing. * “Tell
me you don’t want this,” he purred, nuzzling her neck.
“I
don’t want this,” Hermione said, wishing all the while she hadn’t whimpered
while making that statement.
you certain?” he whispered temptingly.
“Are you very certain?
“We
could get caught,” she said.
“I
know,” he said with fake seriousness, pulling away from her neck, but still
tightly holding her against him. “We
shouldn’t do this. It’s not only naughty
and kinky, it’s plain wrong.”
“I
hate you,” she said, her eyes drifting shut when he leaned in to nibble on her
ear.
“Really now? And why
is that?” he asked. “Is it because I
know the idea of others catching you while you’re acting out of bounds excites
you? Or is it because I’m the only one
who realises that underneath that intellectual facade is a passionate woman
yearning to get out? Or is it simply
because I know you like being touched here?”
“Oh
God,” Hermione moaned when his hands roughly cupped her bum and pushed her
pelvis against him.
He pushed his knee between her legs and
started rocking it back and forth. She
leaned her forehead against his shoulder, panting heavily all the while. By now it was obvious to Hermione that she’d
been mislead by him once again. About
fifteen minutes ago, she’d received a message from Godric asking her assistance
in his office. She felt silly for being
surprised at finding him there instead of Godric. What was it about him that always managed to
get her to bend to his will? They had
nothing in common, their viewpoints differed on virtually everything; she
wasn’t fond of the tactics he used the get what he wanted and she often found
herself frowning at the way he behaved towards their colleagues, yet she still
felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
Then
his mouth was on hers; their tongues tangling as he kissed her roughly. It felt as if he was claiming her mouth and
marking his territory with his tongue.
She gasped against his lips when he lifted her on top of the desk and
spread her legs. Hermione heard a zipper
being lowered and felt her undergarments being pushed aside before he roughly
entered her. She winced at the sudden
intrusion, but her body quickly accustomed to his width. She felt a bit aggravated that he apparently
knew she’d be wet for him, that he didn’t even need to press his fingers
against her crotch to check if she was ready, that he simply knew. Even though the thought of being caught
shagging in Godric’s office, on his desk, scared her, it also managed to turn
her on so much she didn’t need foreplay.
He fiercely pounded into her, the force of his thrusts making the stuff
on the desk jump up and down and sent several rolls of parchment rolling to the
floor. Hermione held on to his
shoulders, all the while staring over them to keep an eye on the door, fearing
someone would enter and walk in on them.
“Please,
Salazar; we’re going to get caught,” she pleaded. “Just come, so we can get out of here.”
“I’m
not coming before you do, my darling Rowena,” he smirked, ceasing his movements
to look at her smugly.
“Be
reasonable!” Hermione argued, arching her hips against him, wanting him to
continue so he could get off and they could leave.
reason has been checked out at the door,” he said dryly. “You are not leaving here before you will
have come. Deal with it.”
Hermione
sighed and started debating on whether she should try faking an orgasm, even
though she had never done that before and wasn’t certain if she’d be any good
at it.
“I
know what you’re thinking and don’t even try it,” he said sternly. “I’ll know
and I’ll have to punish you.”
Hermione
bit her lip at hearing the austerity in his voice, wondering if being punished
by him was a bad thing or a major turn on.
“Every
moment someone could come in, you know that don’t you?” he said huskily as he
started moving inside of her again, slow and hard as one hand snuck in-between
their joined bodies to rub along the edges of her clit.
“Yes,”
she sighed when he started kissing her neck again.
“Then lets give
them a show, shall we?” he asked as he slowly lifted her dress and bunched it
around her waist. With both hands, he
ripped the fabric on either sides of her undergarment, making him able to take
it off without difficulty and without cutting her flesh.
“I bet you’d like
the idea of them seeing your pretty little cunt; your essence dripping all over
Godric’s desk as my cock plunges into you, hard and deep,” he said huskily as
she felt him pull her dress down her shoulders, exposing her breasts.
“I
love the way your tits bounce with each of my thrusts. Don’t you?” he said. “Look down, look at your tits.”
Hermione
looked down and for a few moments watched them spring up and down, before his
hands moved over her them and squeezed firmly.
She moaned when he twisted her nipple between his thumb and
forefinger. Never before had she felt so
naked. Whenever she had been without
clothes, it had always been in a safe place; in hers or Salazar’s private
quarters. The idea that she could be
caught with her private bits on display made her even more conscious of the
fresh air against her bare flesh.
He started
thrusting harder into her, burying his cock deep inside her wet heat with each
savage plunge. Hermione kissed the corner
of his mouth as he rode her. She knew he
liked being kissed there, even though he’d never admit to enjoying such tender
gesture. She knew he preferred being
perceived as a rough and careless man, probably because he was, but deep down
there was softness in him. She had seen
it in his eyes every time they were together; right before he climaxes a hint
of vulnerability briefly shows itself during his passion. Though she didn’t make any illusions; he’d
never be soft and tender; he would always be his rough and unabashed self. It was a good thing she liked him that way.
She
squealed in surprise when he unexpectedly lifted her off the desk, though not
pulling himself out of her. He turned
and switched places with her, so he was sitting down with her straddling him.
“I
want you to turn around and face the door,” he said.
She
frowned in question and her oblivion to his intentions increased when he
grabbed her by the waist, stopping her, when she started to lift herself off
him so she could do as he had asked.
“No,
no, no,” he said. “While
I’m still inside of you.”
Hermione
scowled at him. He was deliberately
prolonging their coupling so she’d get increasingly worried about someone
walking in on them. But even though Hermione groaned in annoyance, she didn’t
defy his demand. She disliked seeing his smug smile when she would tell him she
wasn’t going to go along with his games, albeit this rarely occurred. She knew he liked to push her limits, and
most of the time she in turn liked to have them pushed.
Hermione slowly
lifted her right leg and tried not to kick him against the head as she
manoeuvred it to join her other leg.
When she finally got it there, she wished she could sit like that for a
while; straddling him sideways with his cock buried inside of her and their
arms wrapped around each other for support.
It felt really nice, almost comforting, to be held like that. Reluctantly she raised her left leg, hauled
it over his legs and turned to face the door.
Hermione wondered what it felt like for him to have her twist around
like that with his shaft still inside of her.
It couldn’t feel bad she reckoned, judging by the soft groan of pleasure
he had uttered.
“Now
they can see you properly when they enter,” he said, his hands gripping her
hips as he started thrusting up into her.
“Your breasts jiggling, my cock plunging into your dripping heat, your
face flushed with desire, and perhaps, if they’re lucky, they can even get to
see you come. You look gorgeous when you
come, Rowena, did you know that? Your
eyes tightly shut and your mouth opened to a silent scream as your body shakes
and shudders. And they’ll know it was me
who got you that way. It was me, not them; me.
They think they know so much, but they still haven’t learned the basic
truth that the nice ones don’t get the girl.”
Hermione
whimpered as he fucks her, his arse cheeks clenching with each forward
plunge. She loved being taken from
behind; his cock would hit her in all the right places and his hands had much
better access to her breasts.
Her
breath got caught in her throat when suddenly she sees the handle on the door
starting to turn.
“Salazar!”
she said, reaching for his wrist and gripping it tightly.
“Shhht,”
he whispered, not making any sort of indication that he was going to stop
fucking her. “Relax.”
The
door started opening and Hermione felt hot shoots of adrenaline coursing
through her body. At the same time she
felt the pressure in-between her legs rapidly increasing. The tension and excitement was
overwhelming. She didn’t want to get
caught, but she had never felt so exhilarated. She heard voices and saw a hand
pushing the door open. There was no
question; they were going to see her, see them.
And
just then she reached her peak; she arched back against him, feeling his arms
holding her tightly to him while every muscle in her body stiffened as all
consuming blackness slammed into her.
Hermione gulped for air and jumped
up from her lying position as she abruptly found herself thrown back into
reality. She took a couple of deep,
calming breaths, looked at her hands and saw they were shaking. Merlin, that dream had been exciting. Part of her was glad the dream had stopped
where it had, though. It might not have
been real, but the thought others had seen her climax was too embarrassing to
think about.
the first time Hermione had actually felt relieved Malfoy had taken the
form of her fantasy lover. She had seen
pictures of Salazar Slytherin, and he sure didn’t look like that. She shuddered at the thought, quickly
replacing the mental image of being touched by the real Salazar Slytherin with
the image of Malfoy. Hermione quickly
got off the bed and opened her trunk with trembling hands. Now, where had
she left her Baby Bug...?
*
Hermionesaid a quick ‘thank you’ to Madame Pomfrey as the school nurse handed her the
potion she requested, and headed towards the exit of the matron’s office. Hermione reckoned that this might be the
first time ever that she felt glad about her menstruation having started. Not that she suddenly had developed a fancy
for bleedings, backaches and cramps, but because it had given her an excuse to
go to the infirmary for a potion against menstrual cramps and might catch a
glimpse of Malfoy along the way. She had scanned
the room when she had first entered the hospital wing to head for Madame
Pomfrey’s office, so now she needn’t look for Malfoy’s bed anymore. Hermione softened her tread as she headed
towards him, knowing him to be asleep and not wanting him to wake up. She held her breath as she stood next to his
bed, almost afraid that the sound of her breathing would wake him up, until she
couldn’t hold it any longer and gasped for much needed oxygen. Her gaze
travelled over his form. He had bandages
wrapped across his chest, upper stomach and forehead. He really was too thin, she thought. His shiny blond hair had once been his
greatest asset, but now it laid limp and lifeless spread out across his
pillow. His eyes were closed and the
eyelashes lying against his pale cheeks reminded her of yellow
butterflies. The sight of him made her
want to tear. Hermione knew it was
unhealthy to think of him as the men in her dreams, as her lover, but she
couldn’t help it. Usually, that feeling
went away the moment Malfoy opened his mouth and said something insulting, but
the way he was lying there now, silent and asleep, made her ache to reach out
and run her fingers through his hair, the way she had done in so many of her
daydreams.
She
resisted the urge and sighed instead.
They say that the heart wants what it wants, but was it really her heart
that wanted Malfoy? She didn’t think so,
for she was quite certain it was Ron her heart had always wanted. Hermione backed away from the bed and headed
towards the door. Casting Malfoy one
last look over her shoulder, Hermione sighed and realised that she couldn’t
possibly act on anything before she knew for certain which boy was her heart’s
desire and which one she merely infatuated.
*******
End of chapter 7