Tingle, Chills and A Heart\'s Desire

This was written for Hawthorn & Vine's Reverse Challenge where authors were given a piece of artwork and then had to create a story around it. Here is a link to the image, if you're interested: http://i601.photobucket.com/albums/tt99/margaritaabate/ReverseChallengePic.jpg. The artist is coconuggetx.

Thanks to my betas, a real writer (at least to me), Ali; and my friend L.W. I can’t believe they didn’t judge. Thanks to the mods for the extension. This one was an odd little tale that turned out completely different from what I expected and actually plotted out.

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Its author was unknown. Its origins were a mystery. Even its age had been debated. Some swore it was myth but it wasn’t. This particular book was, in fact, real and, strangely enough, sentient. It seemed to breathe when it came in contact with a specific reader with a specific need.

The book could, should it so choose, not open. It only granted access when it felt the request was heartfelt and true. It would not allow itself to be used for ill will. Its spells and secrets were too powerful.

It had remained hidden away from contact and view for nearly a century. Long-forgotten, its last reader had stealthily laid it to rest among the volumes of magical and dusty texts and manuscripts in the Ministry of Magic’s underground, nearly inaccessible, library.

However, it sensed it was about to be put to good use, once again. Hints of various hues of blue enveloped the tome while thin ribbons of pink swirled around its spine and cover. Its new reader was approaching, quickly.

**************************************
Eyes, male and female, young and old, turned to follow the newly emerged petite figure from one of the floo connections. The brunette witch wore stylish Muggle clothes that never ceased to be a course of hush whispers among the older and traditional generation.

With an enigmatic smile dancing across her lips, Hermione Granger radiated confidence. Not one for gossip or nonsense she paid no heed to the multiple glances and outright stares that seemed to constantly follow her in the Wizarding world.

A war heroine, best friend to Harry Potter, advocate for magical creatures and poster girl for Muggle-borns, she was used to scrutiny. At some point in her life, it would have bothered her; but now at twenty-eight years old, she merely shrugged it off. It amused her that the nosy chatterboxes still hadn’t learned and had nothing better to do with their lives. It was silly and childish, and she was too busy to be bothered by narrow-mindedness. Eight years after the war and it seemed, sometimes, as if some things hadn’t changed.

Hermione learned to focus on the here and now, as on the future; rather than the past. As the youngest assistant deputy director in the Department for Care of Magical Creatures, her day was full of meetings with dignitaries from around the world, wealthy pure-bloods, the British Minister of Magic not to mention the British Prime Minister as well as dealing with the Auror department. Wearing a pair of sexy black, patent leather four inch heels, she made her way through the crowd to one of the very full lifts.

Nodding politely at several colleagues, she plastered a smile on her face while waiting her floor. Barely arriving at the first stop, she felt a chill travel down her spine. She shifted slightly, the move nearly invisible. As a few wizards and witches exited, she stepped back a bit further into the lift.

There. Another chill.

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. Was someone hexing her? Swallowing deeply, she wanted to turn around and look behind her but it would be so obvious. The next floor arrived and a few more people left; Hermione stepped to the left side and tried, discreetly, to look to her right with only her eyes, never moving her head. All she could see was a hazy blur of bodies from her peripheral vision. One of the challenges of being only five foot four. Well, at least she would be able to spy who was exiting, from this vantage, as her floor was last.

Time seemed to stand still as the lift slowly made its stops. The small chills would tingle through her body, occasionally. Finally, only two floors remained and she knew from her position she would be able to see who would exit. Her floor was next and only few had access to the Minister of Magic’s offices.

She stood to the left, her back ridged against the wall and she watched as the rest of the lift cleared out. As the few remaining bodies stepped out, across from her she could see a male figure leaning against the other wall. He didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Her eyes traveled up the tall, lean, and clearly muscular frame to find herself staring into the stormy, grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. A breathe caught in her throat as the doors closed, leaving only the two of them, alone, in the lift.

Hermione straightened and nodded once in his direction but he didn’t move. He merely stared. His handsome face and body seemed to be carved from stone as he continued to blatantly stare at her. Dressed in elegant, expensive black robes, he didn’t even move.

And she, Merlin help her, stared back; barely taking a single breathe.

Finally, the ding announcing the arrival of her floor seemed to break the spell she was under. Clearing her throat, she nodded again at Malfoy and made to exit. For some reason, she suddenly felt trapped and being alone with him further made her uncomfortable. She felt too aware of herself, as woman. It made her feel out of control and she never lost control.

Just before the doors opened, she sensed movement to her right and he was standing behind her, his body nearly flushed to hers. She could feel his breath in her hair. Goosebumps traveled up her body followed by a deep warm blush. Her lips were next to her ear and he whispered in a deep, husky voice, “Hello, Granger.”

At that point, the doors opened and Hermione briskly stepped out. She nearly ran to her office, not once looking behind her. Somehow, she knew he was still there – in the lift, not moving and watching her walk away.

Muttering a hasty ‘good morning’ to her assistant, she dashed into her office, closed the door and collapsed in her desk chair. Her body had broken out into a light sheen and she was painfully aroused. Panic welled up in her throat but she tampered it down by taking in deep breaths.

Voice trembling, hands shaking; she mused aloud, “What the hell was that?”

**************************************
Cloaked in a black hooded robe, the solitary figure treaded the library stacks lightly. It had taken many bribes, cajoling and, in some cases, downright blackmail to gain access to the Restricted Section of the Ministry’s underground library. Very few souls walked these halls, even Unspeakables.

Following special orbs charmed to cast a soft light and follow visitor’s footsteps, the individual perused shelves searching for something special. Finally, the figure made a right turn and stopped in the middle of the row. A flick of a wand summoned a ladder and two orbs floated upward as the person climbed each rung. At the top, a strong hand reached for a worn leather brown book. Pulling it from its resting place, it was tucked, very gently, in the robes. The figure climbed down and quietly exited.

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“Bloody ball is a bore,” huffed an elegantly dressed Hermione Granger, a glass of white wine swirling in her hand.

She wore a midnight blue, silk Grecian goddess gown that draped over her body in a way that made it seem as if she floated across the floor. Her hair was pulled back into a low, messy chignon; wisps of curls framed the delicate features of her face.

Ginny Zabini grinned at her friend and sipped some champagne. “I don’t see how you’re bored, you’ve got McLaggen, Wood, Bentley and, even, Nott tripping over themselves to try and dance with you.”

“Ginny, I didn’t come here for bumbling attempts at groping from males who still behave like pre-pubescent little boys who’ve never seen a pair of breasts.”

Ginny burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “Merlin!”

Hermione laughed with her and took another taste of her wine. She hated these Ministry mandated balls. There were several held annually for some ridiculous reason or other, and she was expected to attend each one. She dutifully made an appearance, always alone – she didn’t wish to send the wrong message by coming with a date. The gossip mongers would have a field day. Ever since she and Ron Weasley had broken things off over a year ago, she’d been hounded by the press. Never mind it was a mutual decision and they remained close friends. No, the Wizarding world needed a scandal and the break-up of two of the Golden Trio was fodder for months.

Now nearly eleven o’clock, the ball was in full swing. Pansy Parkinson had generously donated her family estate and agreed to host the event. The dark-haired witch was now counted as a friend of Ginny’s since the red head had dated and, eventually, married Blaise Zabini. At first the Wizarding world had been shocked. It was thought the youngest and only female Weasely would marry Harry Potter. But fate would have it otherwise. The two dated for sometime but had broken up the same year as she and Ron. Harry began dating Luna Lovegood and, recently, announced their engagement. Ginny, on the other hand, was courted, almost immediately, by Blaise Zabini. They were very much in love and married for over six months.

Molly Weasley had cried for a month and refused to speak to Blaise, at first. She broke when Harry took her aside for a talk. In the end, Harry and Ginny remained close friends, rather than lovers. This set the ball in motion for Pansy and Ron.

Pansy had now, actually, been dating Ron for nearly two months. It had set off a new media frenzy, which was, thankfully, dying down. Having spent time with the raven-haired Slytherin beauty, Hermione had grown to like her. She seemed to balance Ron’s volatile temper, nicely. Never in a million years would she have ever expected such a pair but the two had bumped into each other in Diagon Alley one afternoon and love blossomed, almost instantly. Stranger things had happened, she supposed.

A small tingle traveled up her spine, making her shiver slightly.

Frowning, she glanced around the room and froze when they landed on a tall, muscular wizard with a shock of platinum blond hair. The grey eyes of Draco Malfoy stared back her. Though he was leaning against a far wall on the other side of the ballroom, she could feel the heat of his gaze caress her skin, as if he was touching her. She swallowed, thickly.

“Hermione?” Her friend touched her shoulder and followed Hermione’s eyes. “Is that Draco Malfoy? And . . . is he staring at you?”

Hermione turned away. “Don’t be silly, Ginny. Draco Malfoy has no interest in me. I don’t have the right blood status, remember?”

“Well, he’s staring right at you. Quite intensely, I might add.” Ginny gasped. “And, Hermione, I’m sorry to tell you but he’s heading this way.”

“What?” Hermione looked over her shoulder and she caught him weaving in and out of dancing couples walking right towards her. “Ginny, I’ll see you later. I need some air.”

Gathering her dress and ignoring the worry in her friend’s voice, she hurried over to the open French doors that led outside. Ever since the incident in the elevator nearly two months ago, she’d been determinedly avoiding Draco Malfoy. He, on the other hand, seemed to be everywhere she was. Gryffindor courage be damned, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. She just didn’t trust him, or herself.

After the war, he and his mother had received clemency. Narcissa’s act of lying to save Harry had been viewed as an act of heroism by the Wizengamot. Narcissa had begged on her only son’s behalf. She’d pleaded he had been but a boy and been forced to take the Dark Mark to save them. Harry had also come to his aid and shared the truth of that dark evening on the astronomy tower. Ron and Hermione had also testified that Draco had protected their identities at Malfoy Manor, after their capture.

Over the years, Malfoy had set about to restoring his family’s honor. He focused on ensuring Malfoy investments were legitimate and all ties to anything unscrupulous were severed. A favorite with The Daily Prophet, the young Malfoy heir’s affairs were closely scrutinized: where he went, who he was dating, what he wore, what he ate. It was utter rubbish, in Hermione’s opinion.

Not once, in the last eight years, had he paid her the most minimal of attention. In fact, even during her testimony, he’d barely acknowledged her. She suspected he’d not really shed his blood prejudice and only pretended to be different. His mother, however, had sought out Hermione to apologize, and attempted to make amends. Ironically, the young Gryffindor and older Slytherin witches met twice a month for tea for the last three years. Somewhere between Narcissa’s overtures and Hermione’s tentative acceptance they had forged a friendship. But it had certainly never included Draco Malfoy.

Now, she couldn’t seem to shake him. The bastard was everywhere. He never did anything more than stare and, occasionally, whisper a ‘hello, Granger’ or ‘good-bye, Granger’ in her ear. He never tried to even touch her.

But those chills. She knew he was producing them. She didn’t know how he was causing them but she knew he was the source.

Hermione was hoping he wouldn’t come to the ball. However, she should have known better, he was one of Pansy’s closest friends. Of course, he would be there. Now, here she was fleeing to the outside to get away from him. Draco Malfoy was, suddenly, making Hermione Granger feel things she’d never felt before. Fear being the most overwhelming emotion.

Fear of the desire he ignited from a look. Fear of how his nearness caused her stomach to clench. Fear of wondering what his touch would be like. Fear of what she knew she could feel for him.

And that was the crux of her problem. Hermione knew she could fall for him and she didn’t want too. Draco Malfoy would break her heart and she didn’t want to give him that kind of power.

Finally reaching the sanctity of the outside, Hermione let out a deep breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Merlin, her entire body was shaking. Walking deeper into the night, she made her way towards the quiet gardens Pansy had been kind enough to show her on a previous visit.

A small bench was nestled among the honeysuckle bushes. Taking a moment to rest, Hermione sat down. Her hands were still trembling and she didn’t know why. The man hadn’t even come close to her. She shouldn’t have such a reaction to him.

“Get a grip, Granger,” Hermione said aloud.

Her body broke out in light Goosebumps before a deep masculine voice called out behind her, “You alright, Granger?”

Afraid to turn around, Hermione’s breathing became erratic. What the hell was wrong with her? This was Malfoy! She wasn’t, couldn’t be, attracted to Draco Malfoy.

“Granger?” The timbre of his voice was low, melodic and hypnotic. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

Taking a deep breath and summoning strength from Merlin knew where, Hermione finally turned to look over her shoulder and spoke. “Malfoy? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

His laugh was a rich, velvety rumble. “Is that how you’re going to play it, Granger?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Malfoy.” Gathering her skirts, she rose. “Well, goodnight.”

He blocked her way. “Oh no, not this time.”

“Out of my way, Malfoy.”

“No. I said, not this time, Granger. You’re not running away from me, again.”

“Listen, I don’t know what your bloody problem is but I’ve no intention of letting you bully me. I’m not one of your vapid, inane witches who swoon at the very sight of you.” Drawing up to her full height, she squared her shoulders and continued on, nary drawing a breath. “I said I’m leaving and I meant it. Now, move out of my way or I’ll hex you so badly, not even St. Mungo’s will know what to do with you.”

Draco took two steps closer to her. “Merlin, you are gorgeous when you’re angry,” he chuckled.

“What is wrong with you, Malfoy? Why are you doing this?” Hermione took a step back.

“Doing what, Granger?” He took a step towards her.

Taking half a step back, Hermione raised her voice, slightly. “Stop right there.”

“Right where?” He edged forward, again.

Raising her arms, she took a few giant steps backwards. “Stop it. Stop moving towards me. What the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing? Have you been hexed, or something?”

“Hexed? Is that what you think? No, Granger, I haven’t been hexed. More like, bewitched.” He finally stopped advancing.

“What are you on about? Bewitched by whom? I really don’t understand.” Hermione could feel the exasperation growing. “You’ve been stalking me for several months. And I know you’ve been hexing me.”

“I haven’t been hexing you.”

“Look, don’t lie. I’ve felt those chills whenever you’re near. I know it’s you who’s causing them.”

“You really are obtuse, aren’t you?”

“How dare you!”

“Those weren’t hexes, you silly witch. It was a spell. Or rather, your reaction to a spell.”

Suddenly, the outdoors became hot and Hermione felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “What….what you talking about? What spell?” She felt rooted to the spot, unable to move.

“You’ve no idea, do you?” Draco stepped closer, grabbed and pulled her against him. “Granger, you are, by far, the most difficult woman I’ve ever met. But I don’t care.”

“Er…Malfoy…please let me go,” Hermione whispered. However, despite her words, she allowed herself to melt into him.

“You can go, if you wish. But I would think you’d want to know a bit more about that spell, no?” He smirked, slyly. When she didn’t move, he continued, “It’s harmless, really. Just a little love spell to see if you could ever feel something for me. Those chills meant you would be receptive to me.”

“Receptive?”

“You’re really not going to make this easy, are you?” Draco sighed deeply. “Look, Granger, I….I like you, alright? I always have. Since our last year in Hogwarts, our eighth; you came back and you were nice to me. Even after I’d been such a prejudice git and arse, you were still kind.”

Pulling away from him slightly, Hermione looked up at him. “You like me?” Flabbergasted, she untangled herself from his arms and backed away. “But why would you even cast a love spell? What does it do, exactly? Stop talking in circles, Malfoy.” At this point, her hands were on her hips and the irritation she felt earlier had returned, full force.

“Look, it’s not dangerous, okay? All it does is let me know if you could, possibly, have any feelings for me. Those little chills meant that you…,” and here he grinned widely before lowering his voice and saying, “…might like me.” The bastard then winked at her. “Well, Granger? Do you like me?”

“Honestly, Malfoy, you are a child.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“And I will not answer your question. I can’t believe you did that. Why can’t you just be normal and, I don’t know, ask me out on a date?”

Draco laughed. “Really? Me ask you on a date? And get my bits hexed? No, thank you. I’d like to know that if I take a risk like that, there might be a pay-off.”

“A pay-off? What am I, exactly? I’m not some thoroughbred you pick up on a farm and hope you can breed it to produce what you think you might want.”

“Oh fuck, Granger, I know that. All I meant was I just didn’t want to…”

“Be rejected? Is that it?”

Draco remained silent.

“Well, good night, Malfoy. I think we’re done here.” She made to move past him but he blocked her way.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back inside.”

“So, you’re rejecting me, then?”

Hermione smiled. “I’m sorry, Malfoy, rejecting what, exactly? I don’t recall you actually asking me anything specific for me to respond too.”

Narrowing his eyes, he paused before smirking. “My apologies, Hermione.” He bowed, she rolled her eyes but the smiled remained. “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Hmm, tomorrow…I don’t know…I might be busy.”

“Busy?”

“Washing my hair, actually.” She bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh outright. Draco looked positively put out and the scowl on his face made him very handsome.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock. Wear a dress and very high heels. They make you look sexy.”

“I didn’t say yes, Malfoy.”

“You didn’t have too; I know you’ll have dinner with me. And my name is Draco.”

He offered her his arm. Without hesitating, she wound her arm through his and, together, they strolled deeper into the gardens.

***************************************
The reader turned the pages gently, almost reverently, of the ancient text. The book was rare, one-of-a-kind, precious and full of spells most wizards and witches swore didn’t exist. But the reader knew better.

Magic glowed from each page, crackled in its spine and radiated from the very words. The worn leather bound treasure seemed to tingle under the fingers of the reader, who seemed to be perusing aimlessly. Suddenly, the booked seemed to shudder, and the reader smiled at the spell the book had chosen. Pale fingers danced along the edges of the golden parchment, memorizing the words that seem to float off the page.

The reader had what was needed. Closing the volume with a thud, a whispered rhyme could be heard before the tome was slide back into place upon a high shelf, hidden from view – unless one knew what to look for. Smiling, the reader turned and exited the room, a hint of a diminishing glow from the very top of the bookshelf the only evidence of any disturbance.

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She moaned. Merlin, she loved it when he did that thing with his tongue.

Hermione writhed on the bed. The coolness of the sheets was a welcome sensation on her overheated, sweat-slicked skin. Her hands were bound above her head and her body was held prisoner by the man who was bringing her closer and closer to heaven.

“Oh, Draco…don’t stop.”

She felt him pull back and kiss her thighs making her release a small groan laced with frustration. “Please.”

“I’m not stopping, love. I just want to fuck you, instead.” Draco’s voice was husky and full of passion.

Hermione felt his cock at her entrance. He made her so wet and all she could think about was having him inside her. She swiveled her hips in hopes he would give her what she needed at the moment.

“Impatient?” He rubbed the head of thick erection against her. “Be a good girl and you’ll get what you want.”

Hermione stilled her movements and was rewarded with the thrust of his body. He felt so delicious. All she could do was whimper as he pumped into her fast and hard, the way she liked it. The grip of his large hands on her thighs was painfully pleasurable. His cock was large and stretched her pussy so exquisitely. The clenching of her muscles made him to growl. He switched his angle and she cried out.

“Oh there, Draco…please, please…don’t stop.”

“Come for me, love.”

“Oh, yes…”

Hermione felt him go faster. Merlin, her entire body was on fire. Higher and higher, she climbed and then she fell over that wonderful edge. Moments later, Draco’s body shuddered in release before collapsing on top of her.

He nuzzled into her neck and whispered in her ear, “Fabulous. Always so fucking amazing. I love you so much.”

“Mmm…love you too, Draco.”

He reached up to untie her and massaged her limbs, tenderly. “You alright?” He reached for her face with his right hand to caress her cheek.

“Of course.” Hermione let him envelope her in his arms and cuddled with her new fiancé.

After the ball, Hermione had gone out to dinner, promising that it was only one date and nothing more. However, one turned into two which turned into three. She didn’t realized, until months later, that he’d cunningly worked his way into her life. By that point, she didn’t care. She found Draco Malfoy to be funny, witty, sarcastically silly and incredibly romantic. The fact that he snogged her into submission every chance he got was only a bonus.

Now, a year and half later, they were to be married. Hermione would never, in her wildest dreams, expected this turn of events, but she tended not to dwell on it. She was too happy for herself and her friends to really ponder the circumstances.

And that odd spell that Draco never really explained was not something that she thought about either. It was, as he said, completely harmless. The tingles and chills had ceased that very night when they strolled Pansy’s gardens.

Hermione Granger was genuinely happy and deeply in love with the man currently holding her. She fell asleep with a content smile on her face.

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Blaise Zabini and Pansy Weasley watched Draco Malfoy laugh and escort his beautiful fiancé around the room. Turning his head, he caught their eye and bent to whisper something in Hermione’s ear. She nodded and kissed him chastely on the lips.

Draco strode through the throng of guests and made his way to his private study in Malfoy Manor. Once inside he waited for his friends to join him. As he poured out three glasses of champagne, Pansy and Blaise walked in.

“Draco, congratulations!” Pansy cried and rushed over to hug him. “I’m so happy for you.”

Blaise clapped his back. “She’s beautiful and I’ve never seen you happier.”

Draco smirked and handed a glass of champagne to the other Slytherins. “Thank you so much, my friends. But I wanted to thank you. And toast Pansy, the cleverest witch I know.”

Pansy smiled. “Don’t let Hermione hear you say that.”

Draco laughed. “True. But don’t interrupt me, darling. To Pansy, thank you for finding that book and for making all our dreams a reality.”

Blaise lifted his glass. “To Pansy.”

Pansy blushed a pretty pink and giggled. “I just wanted us to be happy and give us what our hearts desired most.”

“I can’t believe you did it. I mean to find that book. The Kalp Arzusunu is an obscure book, Pansy.”

“Never doubt the motivation of a woman in love, Draco.” She purred.

“I won’t. Thank you, again, though.”

Pansy Weasley smiled devilishly. She had been searching for the elusive and mystical Kalp Arzusunu for some time after the war. She knew the book granted the recipient’s desires. The book itself was full of love spells and charms that were meant to be cast on the intended. They worked like mini-cupid arrows.

Pansy had wanted Ron Weasley, much to her two male friend’s chagrin, since she’d bumped into him at a local pub in the re-built Diagon Alley, a few years after the war had ended. He’d been shocked when she sent him a drink but by the end of the evening, he was making her laugh. When he shared he was dating Hermione Granger, she was crushed. She hated that Granger had someone as wonderful as Ron Weasley. It wasn’t fair.

Crying her eyes out to her grandmother one night, the older witch had told her about the Kalp Arzusunu. It soon became an obsession for Pansy. Eventually, she engaged the help of her two best friends. She lured them in with the promise of their heart’s desires. Blaise’s was Ginny Weasley and Draco’s was, of all people, Hermione Granger.

It had taken Pansy nearly four years but she found the book. And everything they said about the book was true. She was worried she wouldn’t be able to read it but when she opened it, she was surprised to find it in perfect English. The book had accommodated itself to her needs.

At first, she’d used small spells to help cause trouble for Ron and Hermione. After they had ended their relationship, she cast a powerful attraction and love spell, and before long Ron Weasley was hers. Blaise was next. And Pansy felt no remorse, Harry Potter got Luna Lovegood and they were quite happy.

Draco was another story. He wanted to wait. To test out a few different spells. He wanted to enjoy the chase. And enjoy it he did. In the end, however, Hermione Granger was a victim of the book and its powerful love spells.

Pansy raised her glass and smiled at the two men she loved like brothers. “To us. We certainly go what we deserved, finally.”

Blaise smiled. “To us.”

“Indeed, exactly what we deserved. To us.” Draco grinned.

********************************************
The magical light surrounding the book was slowly fading to a dim glow. It had been put to good use once again, and three true love matches had been made. It seemed to fold into itself and burrow deeper into the shelves of its home, where it had been returned, dutifully.

A hush seemed to overtake the halls of the stacks. Dust settled from the air and blackness swallowed the light. All was still. All was right.

FIN

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“Kalp Arzusunu” – roughly translates to “Heart’s Desire”