Battles Won, Battles Lost

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I have no money! Please don’t sue!

Author’s Notes: This is really not one of my best works. I apologize profusely. Hopefully Mia, you will enjoy this nonetheless See notes at the end for citation.

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“RUN!” Draco screamed as he grabbed Hermione’s arm. Not even slowing down as he passed her, she twirled like a drunken ballerina then struggled to keep up with the long strides he was taking.

“Stop Malfoy, stop! Draco, please!” begged Hermione as he unceremoniously dragged her through the twisting passage ways that lay under Hogwarts. She was utterly exhausted and on the verge of passing out but still she followed him, knowing that although she was tired there was no safe haven for resting.

Draco, for his part, barreled through the labyrinth of wet, dripping stone hallways; the walls and floor slick with slime. The condition of their surroundings bore testimony to the last time any wizard or witch had ventured into this part of the dungeons. It did not look like anyone had traveled these passages for generations.

Draco ran; his wand lit with the Lumos spell as their only light. The automatic touches that regularly provided light in Hogwarts’ halls not present here. Occasionally slipping on the slick refuse piled along the stone floor, Draco continued his flight, hauling Hermione behind him. He had promised to get her out of there and damn it he would fulfill his pledge.

Franticly looking for the ornately carved door that guaranteed safety, at least temporarily, Draco began to worry that he had somehow passed it. Suddenly, rising unexpectedly ahead of him, the dark wooden door appeared. Hermione was jarred to an abrupt halt as Draco paused in front, looking for a handle or doorknob, neither of which was visible.

“Fuck!” Draco muttered under his breath as he scanned the area for clues in opening the door.

Hermione, too winded to care what was happening, leant against the opposite wall, simply trying to slow her breathing. Looking up at Draco’s muttered expletive, Hermione saw that the door was an intricate carving, depicting a battle between what appeared to be a dragon, a winged lion and a group of men in cloaks. The dragon and the lion were back to back as the men surrounded them with torches and spears. The images seemed to undulate and Hermione could not decide if they were moving as wizard paintings usually did or if the wavering of Draco’s wand was causing the movement.

Gathering her strength, Hermione grabbed at Draco’s fist as he was pounding on the door. The momentum of his movement brought both of their hands together in contact with the door. Hermione could feel a pull on their hands and arms. She felt as if first her hand, then her arm and lastly her whole body was being slowly sucked through a vat of gelatin. Hermione could still feel Draco’s wrist firmly grasped in her own and as she went through whatever it was, she felt his body pressed close to her side.

The cold and clammy feeling gave way to a warm and dry atmosphere and they both stumbled into what seemed to be a large room. One entire wall was a fireplace with a fire already lit. Two rather formal high back chairs stood in front of the fire and a threadbare couch was in-between. A dining table with chairs was off to the side and there was a screen in the corner, next to a commode with a beautiful porcelain water pitcher and wash basin on top. There was a large oriental rug surrounded by the chairs and couch and blankets and pillows visible in the wicker basket by the wall next to the fireplace. There were wall sconces and candelabra providing light but no windows.

“Where are we?” asked Hermione, still gazing around the room.

“We’re safe,” panted Draco in a strained voice.

“But where are we? I’ve never even heard of this place and I have read Hogwarts: a History seventeen times” stated Hermione flatly crossing her arms across her chest with finality and turning her back on him.

“Well maybe you should widen your reading selection,” snarled Draco, lng hng his temper.

“Well my top ten list doesn’t contain every banned dark arts book ever printed,” retorted Hermione over her shoulder.

“Well if you had read anything other than your precious Hogwarts: a History you’d know that there were a number of rather shady safe rooms built in the dungeons during the time of the founders. You’d know that although they haven’t been used since then, Dumbledore explicitly discussed them in Architectural Wonders, Our Legacy from the Founders.” Draco stated rather smugly.

Hermione was dumfounded. Even though she knew Draco was intelligent, that fact that he had just quoted Albus Dumbledore to her amazed her. Her body language clearly broadcast her feelings.

Draco continued to revel in his besting the school know-it-all. But the expression turned to more of a grimace as he caught his breath while chuckling. Bending over and trying to catch his breath Draco saw stars begin to dance before his eyes. Moving his arm to clutch his midsection, he fell to his knees on the plush oriental carpet. Noting distractedly thherehere was a cushioning charm on the carpet, he gave thanks to deities he didn’t believe in that at least his knees would not hurt too. The reality of the situation was that the burning sensation while he breathed was enough, thank you.

Hermione spun around when she heard Draco’s knees hit the ground. Realizing that something was seriously wrong she hurried over to him. Draco was lying on the carpet on his side, curled into a fetal position.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Hermione asked as she began to carefully examine Draco for the first time since their flight. Draco was a mess. His usual precise coiffure was a sweaty tangle that was mostly in front of his face. His robes were dusty and dirty; suspicious dark, wet and reddish spots haphazardly covered the majority of his robes. Opening his robes to see his school uniform underneath, his shirt and pants were also dirty and sweaty. There did not appear to be any blood on the inside, signaling that the blood on his robes was someone else’s.

“It burns,” wheezed Draco, “when I breathe.”

Hermione tried to remember if she had seen Draco act injured in any way. When he had met her in the corridor she had not noticed anything. Of course he had come barreling at her at high speed. Well something was definitely wrong now.

“Tell me if this hurts…” Hermione said, gently pushing at Draco’s chest.

“Fuck, Yes!” hissed Draco, bolting into a rigid sitting position.

“Okay, okay. Let me see your ribs,” soothed Hermione. She tenderly peeled Draco’s school shirt from his damp torso. While Draco hissed with the increased pain, Hermione’s eyes grew wide and her sharp ke oke of breath alerted Draco to her discovery. Entirely covering his left side, from his shoulder to his hip were bruises blossoming all over his pale skin. Clearly there was damage to his ribs.

“How did you get these?” whispered Hermione.

“I was… looking for… you.” Draco responded.

Hermione noticed that Draco’s usual alabaster skin held an unnatural sallow pallor to it and there seemed to be pink foam at the corner of his lips.
Seeing Hermione’s eyes get even larger, Draco sputtered, “What do you think?”

“I’m no medi-witch but I think some of your ribs are broken,” said Hermione. “I think I know the repair spell but…”

“You’re not sure, are you?” replied Draco.

Hermione swiftly took out her wand and pointed it at her left index finger.

“Frangere” she murmured and steely grey sparks shot towards her finger as a sickening cracking sound could be heard.

“Merlin Hermione!” cried Draco, as he watched Hermione’s finger take on a twisted angle.

“Okay, now we have something to test the spell on,” Hermione stated with a frown. “I think the healing spell is Medeoro but it might be Integro.”

“It’s Medeoro,” said Draco quietly.

“How do you know?” responded Hermione.

“With a Death Eater as a Father, there were a lot of healing spells done in Malfoy Manor when I was younger,” retorted Draco caustically. Carefully Draco pointed his wand at Hermione’s broken finger, “May I?”

With her nod he softly muttered “Medeoro Digitus” and a soft green spark shower erupted from his wand. Hermione’s finger was returned to its unbroken state.

Hermione carefully removed Draco’s shirt and began softly repeating, “Medeoro Costa” to heal his ribs. It took several spells and the tension on Draco’s face was plain.

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to give you an analgesic spell until I’m done, incase something doesn’t feel right,” Hermione said with a sorrowful expression.

When at last there were no more ugly bruises marring his porcelain skin, Hermione asked, “Does it feel alright?”

“Except for the feeling of being run over by a Hippogriff stampede, I feel fine,” joked Draco. But the tension had not left his face and the dark circles under his eyes wereestaestament to the painful healing process he had undergone.

“Indolentia” whispered Hermione. With the pain relief spell Draco’s shoulders and face finally relaxed. Even more quietly Hermione murmured, “Endormio.”

As Draco’s eye’s closed, Hermione softly ran her fingers through his sodden hair and whispered “Sweet Dreams, Draco. Thank you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With Draco’s soft snores harmonizing with the snap and crackle of the fire, Hermione took stock of their situation. Hermione searched the room but while the basin seemed to be a never empty vessel, she could find no other food or beverages. There was ample wood for the fire and the magical candles seemed sufficient for their illumination needs, for the moment. As Hermione moved closer to the door, she carefully touched the carved wood. Unlike earlier, the wood felt firm and smooth beneath her finger tips. This side of the door was also a beauty of carving craftsmanship. The wood depicted the dragon and the winged lion asleep in a cave. There were no other beings in the scene. They seemed to be peacefully curled together in front of a fire. Their bodies intertwined. This carving did not appear to be moving, as the outside had seemed to be earlier.

After examining the room and finding nothing that was dangerous nor more intriguing than the self emptying commode, Hermione decided that resting and getting her body’s algorithms in sync with Malfoy’s was probably her best bet. Laying down behind Draco and covering them both with a huge multi-colored quilt from the wicker basket, sleep claimed Hermione quickly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The fog swirled around Hermione’s knees as she stumbled across the field. The ground was wet with the moisture from the dew and she suspected other fluids. The squishing noise her feet made as she stepped carefully over the uneven ground seems to be deafening. There were no bird sounds, no sound at all that someone might usually hear in a mist-filled meadow. Hermione kept searching, she had to find out where she was and get back; back to Hogwarts, to the sunshine, to the sounds that usually inhabited her world.

Suddenly, with a chorus of pops, cloaked figures enclosed her. Some began to grab her shoulders while others pointed their wands menacingly in her face. Save for the sound of their apparition, Hermione still heard nothing. Being shoved roughly by the cloaked beings, Hermione was pushed through the fog without thought for if her footing was sure. She could feel herself falling in the mist, being consumed by the damp grey, but never hitting the earth. Gradually Hermione became aware of a swoo-whoosing noise that was getting louder. Jarringly, Hermione’s torso collided with a large, scaly, warm body. Now, instead of falling Hermione was rising. Still within the ethereal mist, Hermione lost her sense of direction. She was not frightened. She knew she was safe. Eventually, Hermione felt herself burst from the fog, like a diver breaking the surface after traveling a distance underwater.

Blinking in the brightness, squinting at the large forest green mass that held her safely, Hermione realized she had been caught by a dragon. Her rescuer soared and swooped above the cottony clouds as a gull would above the seashore at dusk. Hermione couldn’t understand why she was not terrified, she disliked heights immensely. But on some elemental level she knew that her savior was also her protector and that she was utterly safe. She lazily though that it seemed like forever since she had felt so secure and untroubled, war did that to a person. Gently the dragon circled back to the meadow which was now drenched in sunlight. Settling down near what appeared to be an ancient oak tree; Hermione’s winged guardian landed and lay upon the grass so Hermione could easily slide off its shoulders. Scratching its head, Hermione whispered her thanks. Not really knowing if dragons liked to be petted but figuring she needed to show her appreciation and gratitude, Hermione skimmed her hand down the dragons back. The dragon, in response, nuzzled into Hermione’s neck, she could feel the warm, moist breathe under her hair. A soft humming sound vibrated into Hermione and it filled her with peace.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slowly Hermione swam back to consciousness. Strangely the warm and safe feeling from her dream stayed with her. Floating in the in-between world of sleep and wakefulness, Hermione tried to puzzle out the contentment she was experiencing. The warmth was enveloping and her dragon was still breathing into her neck, her protector. Deciding it was too much to figure it all out and knowing she was safe Hermione attempted to roll over and go back to sleep. That was when she noticed that the there was a distinctly human arm around her waist and her back was snuggled up to a firm, human male chest. Clearly the breathing she had mistaken for her dream dragon was in reality a man behind her. Groggily Hermione pieced together what reality was; Draco had sometime during their sleep cuddled up to her. For she would never do the cuddling, would she?

Granted Draco had been much less of a prat this last year. The “M” word had not been uttered for at least two years. And while he still could be a surly and snarly snot, there really wasn’t any fire in his barbs, just really heated teasing. Undoubtedly as things had changed and more and more casualties had mounted in the war, everyone had become more somber. He and a good portion on the upper levels of Slytherin House had begun to attend DA meetings and even collaborated with Harry in planning lessons centering on defensive spells. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that Malfoy and his cohorts had decided while they were not goody-two-shoes Gryffindor, neither were they stupid enough to follow a madman who wanted to eradicate muggles and muggle-borns from the wizarding world. Clearly that was not the winning side. So in their own way with their own internal logic, the majority of Slytherin House stood against Voldemort.

While Hermione groggily sorted this out she became gradually aware that the humming had become a snuffling sound and that Draco seemed to be attempting to nuzzle his nose into her neck. Realizing that she had let this go on quite a while and that her arm was in fact wrapped on top of Draco’s, Hermione began attempting to un-snuggle herself. This proved to be much more difficult that she first anticipate. First she had to admit it felt good to be held like this, very warm and comforting. Second, Draco was showing no signs of either waking or letting go of her. Not wanting to jar his healing ribs and not knowing how to gently entangle herself from the man who had suddenly turned into a sleeping octopus, Hermione laid quietly encircled in Draco’s arms.

“Gave up did you?” whispered Draco against her neck.

Hermione stiffened in his embrace and turned to look over her shoulder. Seeing nothing but the top of Malfoy’s white blond head but feeling a definite smirk against her neck, Hermione rolled away from Draco although not out from under the quilt. Staring at him and deciding to just change the subject, Hermione asked, “How are you ribs?”

Assessing the situation and seeing Hermione’s desire to *simply not go there*; Draco replied genuinely, “They only ache slightly. Thank you for mending them.”

“Thank you for coming to get me, can yell ell me what happened?” asked Hermione.

“Dumbledore asked me to make sure you were safe. He gave me one of those winks of his and asked if I had ever read any of his books. That’s how I remembered the labyrinth under the dungeons,” replied Draco. “When I left, the battle had just started. A second wave of Death Eaters had just apparated into the Great Hall.”

“How?” gasped Hermione. “What happened to appaapparition wards around Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know, all I know was one moment I was eating dinner and the next I was throwing curses behind one of the overturned Slytherin tables,” responded Draco. “I am not at all sure how Dumbledore got to me to ask that I look out for you.”

Hermione puzzled over this for a few moments. It didn’t make sense that Dumbledore would ask Draco Malfoy to look out for her. Sure, they had not been enemies for at least two years but they were not friends. More like comrades in arms fighting the same foe. Draco could tell Hermione was perplexed.

“I think besides you being vilified as a muggle mutant, I am persona non grata with the Voldemort’s supporters. My father is his greatest devotee,” Draco shared. “You are the embodiment of every pureblood’s fears and I am the lightening rod around which their children were seduced away from the ‘traditional beliefs’ - to put it mildly if they get a hold of us we’re done for. I don’t think there are people staying up at night worrying about my welfare but Potter and Weasley would be distracted to say the least if something were to happen to you.”

“What do you mean your father is one of Voldemort’s supporters? How can he be? He’s in Azkaban,” Hermione queried.

“My father has had the ability to go wherever he wants since Voldemort has grown in strength. You aren’t aware but I haven’t been home since the summer after fifth year. When I decided not to follow that crackpot Mother kindly disinherited me. Thank the gods that I have my own inheritance at twenty-one,” Draco tried to joke, but even his smirk fell flat.

If at all possible, Hermione appeared more disturbed by this news than the preceding disclosures. This discomforted Draco, who was appalled that his confession had elicited such a reaction in Hermione.

“But where did you go last summer? Students aren’t allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the summer break,” asked Hermione.

“I was here some of the summer, with Professor Snape. When he wasn’t able to be here because of Order business, then I stayed at his cottage outside Manchester,” Draco answered.

Hermione’s eyes were wide but then in a blink a smirk accompanied by a raised eyebrow graced her face. “Well that explains Snape’s unnatural attachment to you. No wonder you always get the best potions marks,” Hermione groused.

Pride pricked, Draco replied, “First, I get the best marks because I study my ass off. Second, I love potions. Third, Severus is my Godfather so I wouldn’t call our relationship unnatural.”

“Oh,” Hermione responded dumbly. But with further consideration Hermione added, “But it’s still not fair that your relationship with him allows for favoritism. I am just as good as you are in potions but your blind Godfather refuses to see it.”

“You might be right, he is a little blind when it comes to me,” Draco countered; completely taking the wind out of Hermione argument.

Hermione, having no answer to an agreeable Malfoy simply stared at him. Taking mercy on Hermione once again, Draco propped his head up with him bent arm and surveyed their surroundings. Watching him scan the area, clearly cataloguing all the items and inventorying their supplies, Hermione was taken aback by Draco’s quick assessment.

“The charm on the rug is thoughtful and we seem to have everything we need, except food,” Draco stated. “Do you know how long we’ve been here?”

“Sorry, I don’t have my watch,” replied Hermione. “I thought I should stay on a similar timetable as you so I decided to nap as you recovered. While it kept us in sync I have no idea how much time passed”

“Thank you again, I appreciate your help,” Draco said softly, looking down at Hermione from his head rest.

Hermione was gob smacked once more. Twice in one day Draco Malfoy had thanked her, what was happening?
As if reading her thoughts, Draco whispered, “When I decided to stand against Voldemort I gave up all those childish notions about purity and lineage. I finally let myself realize that without you I wouldn’t have worked half as hard as I do here. You challenge me, confront me, and defy me – you keep me on my toes, Granger.” He ended with a smirk, mostly self depreciating and lacking any malice.

“Ah, thanks,” Hermione murmured; not entirely sure how to respond to such a declaration fralfoalfoy. All she did know was that his words made a knot low in her abdomen, radiating heat to her nether regions in a most unusual fashion.

Slowly lowering his head, Draco lightly brushed his lips across Hermione’s forehead. Hermione shivered from the heated sensation the trail of his lips left. Draco hesitated ever so slightly after the soft contact, seeming to savor the feeling before opening his eyes to give her a brief grin.

Rolling up and stretching, Draco made his way behind the screen in the corner. Trying to give Draco privacy for his absolutions, Hermione sat up and gazed at the fire that continued to burn; despite the fact neither she nor Draco had tended it since arriving. Hearing the rustle of clothing, Hermione wondered what Draco was doing. Almost immediately Draco re-entered the common area, dressed in a simple home-spun shirt and what appeared to be leather leggings. Her eyebrows arching into hairline, Hermione just gaped at the figure he presented. The change was quite drastic. The slightly damp and ruffled hair paired with the clothes that made Draco look as if he had just stepped form a Robin Hood story seemed to soften his sharper edges.

Feeling her amazement while noticing her stare, Draco questioned, “See something you like?”

Breaking the daze, Hermione honestly replied, “I’ve never seen you so casual. Usually you look austere. Where did that clothing come from?”

“It was behind the screen, along with everything else. By the way nice conveniences that,” Draco responded. “If my muscles don’t loosen up I may have to take advantage of that hip bath, bet an engorgio would make it a nice size tub.”

At Hermione bewildered look Draco simple raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, although grimacing at the pull the motion exerted on his still tender left abdominal muscles.

“There were no clothes when I looked earlier, There was no hip bath either,” stated Hermione rather vehemently. Getting up and walking around the privacy screen, Hermione was amazed to not only see clothing folded neatly in a basket next to the basin but also a basket of soaps, shampoos, and other personal care products. Sensing Draco behind her, she turned to him with an even more befuddled gaze.

“I don’t understand it either but I refuse to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dumbledore never reported any of this in his damned book,” Draco replied. He turned to leave the area but was brought up quite short. Hermione, still musing about the bathing supplies ran directly into Draco’s back. Smothering an expletive that Draco was surprised to hear come from the diminutive Gryffindor, Hermione looked up to see what had caused Draco to stop dead in his tracks. Slightly turning and bringing his arm around her back, Draco guided Hermione in the diren ofn of his gaze. Hermione’s slack jawed expression confirmed that Draco was not hallucinating; before them on the dining table was an assortment of breads, cheese, cold meats and what appeared to be tankards of ale.

“I guess food isn’t a problem like we thought,” muttered Draco.

“But where did this come from? How did it get here? Is that beer?” asked Hermione in quick succession.

Sensing that another flurry of questions would begin as soon as Hermione figured out what to ask, Draco turned and put his finger to her lips. Surprise registered on Hermione’s face.

“Let’s just take it as good fortune; clearly Dumbledore has many more tricks up his sleeve that you or I know. I don’t know about you but it wasn’t until I could see the food that I decided I was ravenous. Let’s eat,” said Draco.

Hermione murmured her assent while also nodding her head. Because Draco’s finger was still against her lips, the friction and breath caused by the movement brought shivers to both of their spines.

Silently, Hermione and Draco sat themselves at the table and tucked in to the food.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After consuming the majority of the bread and cheese and finishing off the meat, Hermione & Draco took their tankards to the sit on the couch. While walking there Hermione noticed that she was feeling rather fuzzy. Sitting down she placed her ale by her feet on the floor.

“I don’t think those ever-filling tankards are a very good idea. I wonder how much alcohol is in that ale?” she mused.

“So Granger can’t hold your ale?” sneered Draco with a wink.

“It’s not that but I think we should have something besides ale to drink,” cautioned Hermione.

“Why? Being pissed will help us pass the time until someone comes down here to get us,” replied Draco.
“Malfoy, we can’t just sit around pissed,” snorted Hermione. Staring into the fire, suddenly her face paled. “What if Dumbledore doesn’t come for us? What if someone else finds us?”

Silently contemplating that thought Draco and Hermione watched the flames dance over the logs in the grate. Hypnotized by the orange undulation neither spoke for a long time. Finally Draco replied, “I really do think the light side will win. It will be a bloody battle and lots of wizards and witches will die, but if I didn’t believe in the defeat of Voldemort then I would be upstairs fighting and hoping to die quickly in battle rather than sitting down here. No matter if Dumbledore had asked me to keep you safe.”

Hermione piercing gaze was locked on Draco’s face. Swallowing slowly she said, “They’d torture us if they found us…”

“Have no fear, my father is very inventive,” spat Draco. “I sometimes think his only enjoyment in life is hurting others.”

Not know how to respond and sensing that Draco would not go into further detail Hermione sat quietly on the couch.

Moments passed and Draco’s rage seemed to fade. Softly, almost to low for Hermione to hear, Draco whispered, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Turning back from the crackling fire, Hermione met Draco’s level stare. Feeling the lump in her throat, knowing that there was no way she could force words around it she simply held out her hand to Draco. Without hesitation he grasped her smaller hand in his quidditch roughened one. Eyes searching hers he said softly, “I’ll do whatever I have to do so that you won’t be one of Lucius’ playthings.”

Understanding his statement Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and she merely nodded. Responding to the tug on her hand Hermione crossed the space of the couch and lent against Draco. Resting her head on his shoulder, she felt him let go of her hand and wrap his arm around her. There was nothing more to say.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The time blended together, without the reference of the sun and moon Draco and Hermione existed in a strange world out of time. Eating when they were hungry, sleeping when fatigue over took them, they had no idea how long they had been in the secret room. Food regularly appeared as did fresh but simple clothing. Books and board games appeared also. They spent their time reading, teaching each other games and talking with each other. The intimacy of the situation began to rankle them both. Heated looks and small touches passed between them. The enforced seclusion and limited space finally forced Hermione to her breaking point.

“I can’t stand this any more!” yelled Hermione as she tipped the chess board over, scattering the pieces. “How long do I have to stay here? Why am I stuck with you? What is going on up there?”

“Listen here, this isn’t my idea of a picnic either Granger,” snarled Draco, spoiling for an argument as much as Hermione was. “I didn’t volunteer to be you savior. It was thrust upon me. I’d much rather be upstairs fighting, taking my chances, rather than skulking down here with you!”

“I never asked you to save me! I can look after myself. I don’t want to hide down here either! What if Harry or Ron needs me? I can’t help them down here,” screamed Hermione.

“Since everyone knows you’re the brains of the operations Potty and Weasel are at a definite disadvantage,” smirked Draco.

“Considering your friends don’t have half a brain among them that’s rich,” retorted Hermione.

“At least they’re real wizards,” rejoined Draco.

At the furious look on Hermione’s face, Draco knew he had gone too far. Cringing inwardly, he realized too late that Hermione could easily take his comment as a pureblood slam, when all he’d meant was that Crabbe & Goyle were more raise in more traditional wizarding families than the current fad of Muggle-clothed students that wandered Hogwart’s halls.

“FUCK YOU, MALFOY,” screeched Hermione, grabbing the nearest chess piece and throwing it at him. “Stay the hell away from me.” Hermione marched behind the privacyeen een into the bathing area. Draco retreated across the room, taking the chair furthest from that corner and turning it to face the wall.

Hearing muffled clanks and splashes from behind the screen, Draco surmised that Hermione was taking a bath. Days earlier he had used an engorgio spell to expand the hip bath into a full sized tub. Sitting and contemplating the row they’d just had, Draco could see that it had been inevitable. Both were feeling powerless and both disliked hiding. He knew both he and Hermione preferred to face challenges head on and that the enforced passivity grated on them both. He was also disturbed by the effect she was having on him sexually. More than once he could feel his temperature rise and the blood sail southward whenwoulwould brush past Hermione. Not knowing what to do with this new found attraction and tired of tiptoeing around Hermione, Draco closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair.

As the silence of the moment stretched, Draco could hear other muffled sounds from behind the privacy screen. Sounds that sounded an awful lot like sobs. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco rose from the chair and walked towards the screen. As he approached the soft hiccups of Hermione’s crying could clearly be heard. Rounding the carved wood, Draco took in the sight before him. Hermione was submerged in the tub, her hair pinned carelessly on top of her head, tendrils escaping to hang about the shoulders. As quietly as possible she was crying into her washcloth. Kneeling down Draco encircled her shoulders and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Crying even harder, Hermione sobbed, “I hate this; I am so scared. I can’t stand this waiting with nothing to do but sit down here and see who wins.” Looking over her shoulder at Draco, she murmured, “I’m sorry too. I know we’re both on edge.”

Keeping her in the circle of his arms, Draco moved to the side of the tub. “I’m frightened too. Neither of us are waiters, we’re doers. Patience certainly isn’t my strong suit. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you. You are NOT the cause of it.”

“Nor I, you,” Hermione added. Lowering her hands and the washcloth she leaned forward and rested her forehead against Draco’s. Not stirring, just enjoying the calm that was now present, Draco and Hermione stayed that way for a few heartbeats. Feeling the tension in his body begin to rise, Draco pulled away first. Hermione, looking in his eyes and seeing an answering fire, asked before he could retreat, “could you help me wash my hair?”

Seeing her doe eyes and recognizing the invitation for what it was, Draco smiled and responded, “Sure, which shampoo do you prefer, the pine or the apple smelling one?”

“The apple please,” responded Hermione as she removed the hair stick holding her hair up and ducked under the water to wet it.

Draco pulled off his shirt and poured a palm-full of the shampoo into his hands. Gently rubbing his hands together he knelt behind Hermione and began to massage her scalp. His long and quidditch calloused fingers scrubbed gently but determinedly starting at her forehead and migrating over her skull to her neck. Hermione gave a low purr of satisfaction and Draco could feel the anxious muscles unlock under his fingers. The satiny suds sluiced down his forearms giving off the smell of an orchard in springtime.

The strangely erotic intimacy affected Draco, his groin hardening and tightening. He had never washed someone’s hair; he barely paid attention to washing his own anymore. But kneeling behind Hermione, his bare torso damp from the bath and the shampoo, her neck bared to him with tiny rivulets of bubbles winding their way to the bathwater mesmerized him. It took all the concentration he had to not lean down and lick her neck. The gratification sounds Hermione was making were not helping the situation.

Hermione felt like she was on a rollercoaster. Her emotions had been swinging wildly all afternoon and now her senses were overwhelmed with Draco. She chuckled at the thought that he had magic fingers but she truly did not know how else to describe them. She could feel the tightness in her body leech away, making her feel languid and aroused. She could smell Draco’s scent, a mixture of the pine poo poo he used, the bath soap they both used and something indefinable, something that was just Draco. Even though bodybody was submerged, she could feel herself getting full and wet. Groaning in satisfaction, Hermione let her head fall forward onto her chest.

Baring her neck to him was more than Draco could take. Carefully piling her soapy hair on her head, Draovedoved his hands lower and massaged her neck and shoulders. Digging his thumbs into the knots in her shoulders, Draco attacked the lumps. As Hermione moaned in relief, Draco’s pants became increasingly tighter. In response to a particularly stubborn knot, Hermione arched her neck and back. Draco’s imagination took hold and he wondered if she looked like this from a neck rub what would she look like in the throws of passion?

Seizing his chance, Draco bent down and pressed his lips to Hermione’s. Stunning heat met his lips, silky smooth and tasting faintly of salt from her dried tears, Draco felt like he was swimming in her essence. Roughly he slanted his mouth for a better seal upon hers. Gently brushing his tongue along the seam of her lips he was surprised to have her tongue meet his as her lips opened to his questing. Her tongue molested his, curling around his and drawing it into her mouth. Sucking lightly while she stroked and licked his tongue, Hermione began a contented humming.

The vibrations caused by Hermione’s humming coupled with the intensity of her kiss made Draco loose control. Draco slid his hand into her slick hair while the other dove under the water to forcefully bring her torso into contact with his. Water cascaded over the side of the tub with the sudden movement, drenching his trousers. Nothing mattered to Draco except getting into as much contact with Hermione’s skin as possible. For her part, Hermione grasped Draco’s shoulders, smoothing one hand up and into the hair at the nape of his neck. The bite of Hermione’s nails into his shoulder brought Draco back to a semblance of awareness. Breaking the kiss to gasp for breath, Draco poured his gaze into Hermione’s eyes.

“I think I’d better rinse off,” Hermione said rather shakily. With that said Hermione simply let go of Draco and submerged her head in the bath. With her hair floating in the water Draco was reminded of a water nymph. Breaking the surface with a gasp, Hermione wiped the water from her eyes and stared at Draco, wondering what would come next.

“I think there is still some shampoo in your hair,” said Draco. “Let me rinse it for you.”

“Alright,” said Hermione.

Draco turned to take hold of the ever-filling pitcher. As he turned back towards Hermione, he was frozen in place as he watched her rise from the bath, water streaming off her body in the soft light of the wall sconces. Presenting him with her back Draco looked his fill at her curves, paying particular attention to her shapely derriere. Taking a breath Draco moved forward and began rinsing Hermione’s hair. Moving his hand through the thick masses of silky wet hair, all Draco wanted to do was wrap it around his fist and pull her to him once more.

Finishing with the rinse Draco wrapped Hermione in one of the large bath towels that mysteriously would appear for their use as she stepped out of the tub. Clearing his throat, Draco said softly, “I’m going to change out of these wet pants. I’ll make our bed.”

Hermione’s heated gaze met his, noticing the use of the plural possessive pronoun that Draco chose. Nodding solemnly, Hermione began to dry off as Draco walked around the screen into the rest of their room. Taking a deep breath, Draco peeled off the wet leather and his briefs. Carefully draping them on a chair near the fire to dry, Draco laid out the pillows and blankets in front of the fire. Crawling into the nest of bedding Draco simply waited for Hermione.

Hermione grabbed her wand and said a simple drying spell, “Assisccare.” Waiting a moment and then hesitantly pointing her wand at her abdomen she murmured, “Non-gravis.”

Hermione entered the living area and immediately sought out Draco’s gaze. Seeing his eyes dilate at her nudity, a small smile crept onto her face. Hermione slowly walked to the cozy nest Draco had made in front of the fire. Burrowing under the covers and sliding against Draco’s hot skin, Hermione shuddered. Facing him, Hermione slowly traced his collar bone and painted abstract designs on his skin with her fingertips. Using his knuckles to raise her eyes to his, Draco asked, “are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes, but I’ve never…” stammered Here.
e.

“Don’t worry, we’ll do whatever you want to do, you control it all,” replied Draco. “And don’t assume I have any more experience than you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at Draco’s remark. “You mean you’ve never, that you’re a …” Hermione trailed off.

“Yes,” Draco responded quietly.

“But you’re the Slytherin sex god!” Hermione blurted

Laughing Draco countered, “Well that’s nice to know but not literally true.”

“I can’t believe I just said that,” Hermione said covering her face.

Still chuckling, Draco pried her hands off her face and said, “Haven’t I proven to you that I am not what you thought of me?”

“Yes, well, but books and cleverness doesn’t get you anywhere when it comes to sex,” replied Hermione.

“Making love is about sensation and what feels good. You are giving a little bit of yourself to someone else. It’s about what is right for us not some ideal,” whispered Draco. Slowly closing the gap between them, keeping his eyes locked with hers until the last possible second, Draco softly brushed his lips against hers. It reminded her of the kiss on the forehead he had given her days ago, achingly sweet but burning with something more, something electric.

Responding to his touch, Hermione lightly nibbled on his lower lip while snaking her arms around his neck, bringing her body flush with his, his hardness a counterpoint to her lush softness. Opening her mouth wider to delve into his, Hermione felt his arm go around her while the other softly brushed the hair away from her face. Trailing downward, Draco lightly traced an invisible pattern down Hermione’s neck and onto her upper chest. Tingles radiated outward from Draco’s touch, settling as heat between her thighs. Rubbing against Draco like a cat, Hermione wrenched her lirom rom his so that she could lathe his neck with her tongue. Draco groaned in appreciation, arching his head up to give Hermione better access.

Grabbing her head in both hands, Draco sough out Hermione’s mouth once more. Keeping one hand at the back of Hermione’s head, Draco trailed down to her breast, lightly teasing the nipple until it was rock hard. The alternating pinching and caressing kept Hermione on the edge. Slowly sliding his thigh between Hermione’s legs, Hermione arched up for more contact. Leaving a trail of moisture as she ground against Draco‘s leg, Hermione moaned and shuddered. Draco answered by pressing his cock into Hermione’s hip, growling at the friction.

Realizing that neither of them would last much longer, Draco’s lips followed the previous track of his hands. Enveloping her nipple in the warmth of his mouth, he hollowed his cheeks and he suckled. Hermione practically levitated off the bedclothes. Throbbing shocks, echoing the tugging on her breast, dove straight to her crotch, making it engorged and sensitive. Draco‘s hand crept towards her thatch, gently combing through the springy hair. Softly tracing the moist slit, Draco pushed his index finger into her pussy. Wet raging heat trapped his finger, causing him to gasp and his cock to pulse. Slowly pumping the finger in and out, Draco added a second finger. Draco could no longer concentrate on Hermione’s breasts. Luckily, Hermione was completely absorbed by the sensations Draco was causing in her body. Panting heavily, Hermione thrust to meet Draco’s fingers. In time with the rhythm of his hand, Draco continued to rub his now weeping cock against Hermione.

“Ready?” he whispered.

“Oh, yes,” sighed Hermione.

Adding his thumb into the mix, Draco began to press on Hermione’s clit, moving in a circular motion. Hermione’s back bowed, her entire body going rigid. Quickly removing his hand and positioning his cock at her entrance, Draco slid home. With the grasping sensation surrounding him from Hermione’s orgasm, it took only a few thrusts before Draco was catapulting after Hermione into the abyss.

Slowly returning to consciousness, Draco realized he was lying fully on top of Hermione. Starting to move, Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco tighter and mumbled, “No.”

“But I’ll crush you,” cautioned Draco.

“No, feels good, feels safe. Sleep now,” Hermione replied.

“Alright love,” responded Draco as he let sleep claim him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Both awoke to the shaking. Dazedly returning to wakefulness, neither at first realized what the rumbling and the rattling meant. Coming fully awake, Hermione began to speak when there was a mighty BOOM.

“What was that?” She asked.

Before Draco could respond the walls and the floor of their room began to shake, dislodging mortar from the ceiling. On instinct Draco rolled over covering Hermione as bit and pieces of the ceiling began to rain down on them. Beneath the covers they both listened to the constant rumble, punctuated by staccato blasts; finally reaching a crescendo followed by eerie silence.

After what seemed forever, Draco and Hermione peered out from under their bedcovers. Surveying the room they immediately spied the door was open. Looking at each other and silently deciding that clothing would be a good idea, Draco got up and grabbed his briefs and pants. Hermione stayed in bed fuzzily trying to remember where her clothes were. Draco, sensing Hermione’s confusion, held up his hand and stalked behind the screen to get her clothing as well as his shirt. Handing over her clothes Hermione got up and shimmed into her knickers. Quickly tossing the shift and loose gown that had become Hermione‘s standard attire they both hurriedly pulled on their shoes and sock. Grabbing their wands they approached the door, which hung haphazardly on its hinges.

Peering carefully around the door they ascertained no movement in the hall. Draco grasped Hermione’s hand. Creeping out, they noticed rubble everywhere in the passage. Returning the way they had run they were stopped by the large rocks and boulders where the ceiling had fallen in. Looking up, Draco and Hermione could see the moon shining brightly through the hole in the earth.

“Can you climb?” asked Draco.

“I bloody well will to get out of here,” replied Hermione.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The climb while not far was difficult going as the earth constantly shifted under their hands and feet. Hermione finally felt Draco catch her under the arms and lever her up out of the hole. The moonlight was very bright; she could see that his face was streaked with mud. She could only imagine what she looked like. Gently she reached up and wiped a smudge off his cheek. Leaning down, Draco gently touched his lips to hers in a feather light brush. Raising his head froms, ms, movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione followed his blank gaze. Hogwarts was visible in the moonlight, smoke pouring out of the gaping hole that had been the North Tower. Draco and Hermione stood with their mouths agape.

“Oh, Merlin,” whispered Hermione. It seemed a sacrilege to speak any louder than that.

“Well, Divination will have to be permanently relocated to classroom eleven,” Draco muttered darkly.

“Oh very funny, you make jokes when Hogwarts looks like The Battle of Evermore,” snapped Hermione.

“The battle of what?” asked Draco.

“It’s a song, about the battle of Gondor from The Return of the King. It’s a…” started Hermione but Draco cut her off.

“I have read The Lord of the Rings trilogy, you know,” he replied.

“Well how was I to kn-” Hermione got out before Draco’s lips met hers. Allowing his relief and desire to be communicated in the kiss, Hermione returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

Breaking apart at last, Hermione looked up at Draco and asked, “What do we do now?”

Before he could answer, another voice quipped, “You could always steal from the rich to give to the poor.”

Turning as one, Hermione and Draco watched as Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore stepped into the moonlight.

“Well you have to admit that you two look like you stepped out of Sherwood Forrest,” said Harry.

“Oh Harry! I was so worried. Are you alri Are Are you hurt? Where’s Ron? Is Voldemort destroyed?” Hermione fired off.

“Slow down love,” Draco chided.

Hermione crossed the space between herself and Harry as fast as she could, embracing him tightly. Harry returned her vigorous hug. Meeting Draco’s eyes over Hermione’s head, Harry stated simply, “Thank you, Malfoy. Thanks for watching over Hermione.”

Draco nodded coolly, not liking that Hermione was wrapping herself around another man, ever if he was her best friend.

“Ron’s okay, I’m fine. Voldemortgonegone,” Harry added.

Hermione released Harry and catching the ghost of a scowl on Draco’s face she returned to his side and took his hand in hers. Looking down at her and raising an eyebrow, Draco smirked.

“I would like to thank you also, Mr. Malfoy. By keeping yourselves safe, our minds were clear to focus on the fight. I hope your accommodations were satisfactory,” asked Professor Dumbledore.

“Yes sir, they gave us everything we needed,” replied Draco.

“Those chambers were originally safe rooms but hadn’t been used in years. I see their wardrobe could use updating,” he said with a twinkle.

“Alright, enough about the clothes,” grumbled Draco.

“But you make a sexy Robin Hood,” whispered Hermione.

“Well you’re a fetching Maid Marion,” retorted Draco.

Sensing another round of verbal sparring, Professor Dumbledore cut in, “come back to the castle and get cleaned up. I’m sure you must be tired.” Turning wearily, he and Harry began walking towards Hogwarts.

Stuck with an uneasy silence, Hermione looked at their joined hands and then up at Draco. Sensing the question, Draco asked, “Are you sorry? Do you regret it?”

“No,” started Hermione, “Do you?”

“No, I am thankful I found you,” he replied his eyes shining.

“I am too,” responded Hermione with a smile. Turning, they both started the long walk back to Hogwarts.

FINIS


The Battle of Evermore

Queen of Light took her bow
And then she turned to go,
The Prince of Peace embraced the gloom
And walked the night alone.

Oh, dance in the dark of night,
Sing to the morning light.
The dark Lord rides in force tonight
And time will tell us all.

Oh, throw down your plow and hoe,
Rest not to lock your homes.

Side by side we wait the might
Of the darkest of them all.

I hear the horses' thunder
Down in the valley below,
I'm waiting for the angels of Avalon,
Waiting for the eastern glow.

The apples of the valley hold,
The seas of happiness,
The ground is rich from tender care,
Repay, do not forget, no, no.
Oh,-------dance in the dark of night,
sing to the morning light.

The apples turn to brown and black,
The tyrant's face is red.

Oh the war is common cry,
Pick up you swords and fly.
The sky is filled with good and bad
That mortals never know.

Oh, well, the night is long
The beads of time pass slow,
Tired eyes on the sunrise,
Waiting for the eastern glow.

The pain of war cannot exceed
The woe of aftermath,
The drums will shake the castle wall,
The ring wraiths ride in black,
Ride on.

Sing as you raise your bow,
Shoot straighter than before.
No comfort has the fire at night
That lights the face so cold.

Oh dance in the dark of night,
Sing to the mornin' light.
The magic runes are writ in gold
To bring the balance back.
Bring it back.

At last the sun is shining,
The clouds of blue roll by,
With flames from the dragon of darkness
The sunlight blinds his eyes.

Zeppelin & Tolkien page re: lyrics http://www.geocities.com/Athens/2406/battle.html

Requestor Information
Name/Pen Name: mia fitzpatrick
Your LJ Username: miafitz
Are you over seventeen?: Yes
Rating(s) of the fic you want: PG-13 to NC-17, up to
the person
Rating(s) you're willing to write: G-NC-17
Things you want your gift to include:
a. A line from a Led Zeppelin song
b. a kiss under the moon;
c. a happy ending;
e. can I request that it be during Hogwarts?
What you don't want your gift to include: babies at 17
and H/G
Any Squicks/Things You Won't Feel Comfortable Writing:
babies at 17 and H/G