¿Mixed Chemistry?

chapter

Draco stood there in shock. He fought back tears. Why was he feeling this way? He should have been glad that the Wizarding world was finally rid of this filthy little Mudblood.

He stumbled backwards into the door of the cell. He sank to the floor, his wand pointing at her still body as she lay face up. Her hands lay on her chest like those death scenes he had watched in a muggle moving picture theater once.

This was the moment for which he had long waited. He had wanted her dead all these years. Why then had he not felt the satisfaction he had imagined? Instead, he felt as if his insides were ripped out.

He never heard a more eerie silence, only interrupted by the sounds of the rain increasing in its strength. The moon though shone through the rain clouds. The light of the moon seemed to highlight her battered frame. For a moment, it danced on her face.

Draco got up and slowly approached her body as if not wanting to wake her. Draco never noticed how beautiful she was, even in the state that she was. Her brown hair lay around her face with one lock almost covering her right cheek. He knelt beside her.

His hand moved towards her face. He stopped himself for a moment. Then he brushed aside the strands of hair from her cheek. She was still warm to his touch.

His mind raced. The pounding of the raindrops grew louder. He turned quickly as he heard footsteps at the base of the stairs.

“Finally finished it off, have you,” the guard who was hitting her came into the dungeons. He spoke of her as if she were nothing more than a broken piece of machinery. Draco nodded slowly.

“I’m to get rid of the body,” the young guard said almost twistedly.

Draco looked at him as the young man entered the cell. Draco stood up quickly. “It’s all right. I will do it myself.”

“Young master Malfoy getting his hands dirty,” the young guard said.

Draco didn’t know why, but he wanted to pummel the guard the same way as the young wizard did her. “You are excused,” he issued the young guard a command. “You will tell my father that I will rid the manor of this vermin myself.”

The young guard looked his master’s son up and down. “As you wish,” he said as he excused himself from the dungeon; upset that he couldn’t have the pleasure of burying the young beauty.

Draco waited until the footsteps ceased. He knew he only had a matter of minutes to reverse the spell. But he could not do it in the house. He placed his wand on the floor as he pulled her close into his body. She felt so small in his arms. He picked up his wand before standing up.

He held her close as he was going to apparate the both of them out of the dungeons and onto the grounds of the manor. The rain pelted them as they reappeared.

He needed to get to the Forbidden Forest. With a simple wave of his wand, they had been transported a mile away into the depths of the dark forest. The rain had been dropping consistently now.

It wasn’t safe for him to do too much magic. He would need to shelter the both of them for a while anyway for him to complete the counter curse as quickly as possible.

He placed her on the forest floor. He took in a breath before sweeping his wand hand around the both of them. A clear protective shield engulfed them. The rain stopped its onslaught on the couple.

He stood over her, waved his wand and said a short incantation. He waited; nothing happened. He was sure he had said it correctly.

He knelt beside her. The counter curse was supposed to have worked. What good was the teaching of Mad Eye Moody, his old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, if the defenses did not work?

Then it happened. He reeled backwards a little afraid as she stirred. She arched her back. Her whole body hurt. She let out a scream that stunned him for a bit.

He needed to quiet her down. If any Death Eater had heard her, they both would have been dead. He tried to place his palm over her mouth. But she kept screaming. He was now worried that they would be found. She struggled underneath him. His palm slipped and his forearm muffled her cries.

Then he felt a piercing pain as she bit down on the inner part of his arm; right on the spot where the dark mark had been emblazoned onto his skin. He clenched his teeth, biting back the pain. He forearmed her across the face knocking her unconscious. A bit of his blood sprayed onto her cheek.

He sat back grasping a hold of his forearm. The skin across the serpent had been lacerated. He yanked down on his sleeve removing it from where it was connected to his shirt. He wrapped the white cloth around the wounded skull soaking up the blood that was spilt.


He didn’t know why but he felt no anger towards her. He picked up his wand and tapped her wrists. The stained ropes vanished and her arms fell to her sides. He lit a small fire to keep warm, never once taking his eyes off her.

He touched her face. With part of his torn sleeve he wiped away the blood and rain. She lay looking peaceful.
This was not right, he told himself; a Death Eater concerned about a Mudblood. He looked at her face again. A muggle, he corrected himself. Why was he feeling this way? Had she cast a spell on him? No, she couldn’t have. She didn’t have her wand. She was a powerful witch at school, he told himself. She could have. But he knew no spell had been cast, no enchantments had been whispered. Nothing.

He looked at his watch as he rubbed his bitten forearm. It was nearly three. They had been out there for a good twenty minutes already. He looked up at the sky as it turned a slight shade of red. The smoky fires that had been set that night a few miles away from there by his fellow Death Eaters scattered the light of the moon.

She looked up at the sky as she caught her breath. Her neck hurt as she turned to face the young man who sat looking up at the same sky. Could it be? Her eyes fluttered. Was it really him? His red hair hung longer than she had remembered.

She was unsure of her voice, “Ron?”

The young man turned to her. Her eyes grew large with fright. She tried to retreat backwards, but her whole body seemed to go into a painful spasm. She clenched her teeth, biting back the pain. Her eyes darted, looking for an escape. She had been given a second chance, she told herself. She tried to find her voice.

“Help,” she said in a tiny voice.

He knew what was coming next. He was slow to react. He heard her scream.

“Help me, somebody,” she screamed, her voice filled with way less courage and assurance than when she had started her suicide mission.

No, he thought. She would give up their position. He lunged for her. He tried covering her mouth with his palm.

She wasn’t going to go quietly. They wrestled each other. She seemed to have some of her strength back. She had clocked him with a backhand that caused him to lose a hold of his wand. He was a bit stunned. She tried crawling away from his grasp.

They had kicked the fire out during the scuffle. He felt the ground for the skinny stick. He finally found what he was looking for. He quickly relit the fire.

He grabbed for her leg, dragging her back into the shelter. The rain, which fell harder, now soaked most of her top half. She tried kicking him off to no avail.

He slammed her onto her back, holding her hands over her head. She went into a coughing fit.

“Shush,” he whispered harshly looking into her eyes.

“Help me!” she screamed again.

‘I’m going to kill her,’ he thought to himself. “Granger,” he scolded looking straight into her face. He pointed his wand at her taking in deep breaths.

Her eyes began to well up. She tried to twist out of his grip but it was no use. She felt his weight on her.
She shut her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She stopped struggling. She knew what was going to happen next before he even did anything.

She was so beautiful, he thought as he looked into her face. He didn’t know what was happening until it happened. His lips kissed her cheek. She took in a quick breath. His lips moved down to her neck.

He let go of her arms and his lips caressed her shoulder. “You can tell me to stop whenever you want me to, Hermione,” he whispered into her ear. She had never heard him say her name before. A cold sweat washed over her.

“Don’t stop, Draco,” she said to his surprise. He looked at her. She looked back up at him.

He ran his wand down the middle of her chest. She arched her back and let out a soft moan. With the tip of his wand, he lightly touched her shirt and it disappeared. He took in another breath. So, this is what Weasley was keeping to himself. With another wave of his wand, her bra was gone. He dropped his wand.

He felt her hands through his shirt. They worked their way up from his midsection to his chest. It was his turn to groan.

He tried to work quickly to unbutton his shirt. For the first time his fingers seemed to work clumsily. Why was he so nervous? He had sex with other witches before. But no one as beautiful as she was. Why didn’t he notice her sooner?

He finally forgot about the buttons and tore his shirt open discarding it to the side. He leaned down to kiss her lips and to his slight surprise, she kissed him back.

He wanted her. His wand rolled close to the base of the shelter, more than an arms length away. He’d have to employ muggle tactics now.

He ran his hand down the length of her chest to her stomach. He kissed her lips again. “We don’t have to do this, Hermione.”

She just closed her eyes and breathed in. He quickly removed her jeans and underwear. He grunted in anticipation. He removed his own trousers and briefs.

He was over her. He stared into her face not making a move, even if he wanted to. She ran her hand over his chest and raised her pelvis, welcoming him.

They made love; caressing each other. She let him in. Their bodies moved together as the fire cast shadows until the embers slowly burned out. The two rested; she falling asleep, he resting on his side watching her.