Love Is The Darkest Art 6

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 9:

Hermione was worried. Sitting in the next class, feeling dejected at her tardiness, she pondered what was being discussed between Malfoy and Umbridge. Though Dolores made it seem like he’d been late for a prearranged meeting, Hermione had a distinctive feeling that Draco was either getting raked over the coals or made to do near endless detention like Umbridge had done to Potter. Maybe she was trying to punish all students who held any kind of influential sway over their peers.

Hermione fidgeted in her seat, but thankfully Professor Trelawney didn’t notice. In fact, the teacher was droning on and on about prophecy and how it shapes young lives, that Hermione found herself closing her eyes and wishing she were with Draco. Perhaps together they could thwart whatever Umbridge was planning to do about them. But Professors of any kind soon left her thoughts and she found herself wading through a thick gray fog. A strange melancholy tune seemed to surround her saying, “rest your head and read a treasured dream….”

Trelawney’s monotonous voice trickled off into the void, replaced by the song and the sound of bare feet traipsing through puddles. She looked down and wondered where her shoes were. She also wondered why her skirt was so short. Was it torn or had it been made that way? It was even shorter than the dress she wore to the Yule Ball last year. And then she realized another thing. Her white blouse clung to her as if she’d just come out of a rain. A couple buttons were missing which bothered her, as she was usually orderly and clean with her wardrobe, even when some of her clothes were secondhand from a muggle thrift store.

Motion in front of her startled her investigation of herself. Figures were swirling out of the fog. Dancing couples who looked remarkably like her friends. Harry came waltzing by, Cho Chang on his arm. Both of them smiling and throwing their heads back in laughter. Ron danced, or perhaps shuffled by as well, both Patil girls on his arm. He looked almost bored, despite the attention the giggling girls were giving him. Next came another awkward-on-his-feet friend Neville Longbottom, and he cast her a look as if to say, “I know what you’ve been doing.” Of course, the whole time he said it his hands were busy trying to disappear in the blond strands of Luna Lovegood’s hair.

Hermione looked around her as the dancers one by one disappeared into the fog and suddenly she was overcome with an intense loneliness, an instant sorrow that nearly reduced her to tears as she wondered why no one was dancing with her. The strange melancholy song resumed, this time telling her, “you cry a little in the dark,” followed by a whisper of “Well, so do I.”

And then he came, sauntering out of the fog in tight dark pants and an open velvet shirt the color of violet. The moisture of the fog glistened on the bare pale skin of his chest, down to his navel and taught abs. She’d never imagined he’d look so sexy in this state. He’d always been kind of scrawny in her recollection. Not the kind you’d consider buff, and yet here he was, muscles tight and skin so touchable it made her breath stick in her throat.

Draco smiled. “I don’t know why I feel the way I do,” he whispered, coming face to face with her. His silvery eyes seemed to draw her in. “All I know is I can’t bear the thought of never knowing your touch.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself. The invitation was too alluring. She reached for him, her fingertips coming to rest on his chest, hands sliding beneath the cloth of his unbuttoned shirt.

His scent pleasantly assailed her. Something earthy like Sandalwood or Patchouli. She breathed him in, his heart drumming against her fingers. She spread her hands out against his chest, palms flat against his fog touched skin.

Draco stood, eyes closed, as if letting the sensation of her presence surround him. Then he reached out and took her face in his hands. Hermione felt herself wanting to let go, to take all of this out of the dream with her and celebrate it into life. She felt her hands drifting from his chest to his abs and then his lips were upon her. First her neck, then her throat, until they slid to her own waiting lips.

If at first she was trembling, now she was visibly shaking, delirious cold chills across her entire frame, followed by a warmth in her stomach that said she desired more than just this kiss . She craved him to envelop her and she closed her eyes to welcome it. But he did nothing more than kiss her. Where others may not have stopped there, even ones as mischievous as he, Draco’s passion was one of both delerium and respect. And she loved him for it.

At this thought of the possibility of love, her eyes sprung open in surprise. She thought she heard the resounding echo of her own voice shouting, “love?!” But so had everyone else. The class was silent, except for the sigh of Trelawney interrupted from her long winded speech, and possibly a question.

“No Henrietta,” she said, getting her name wrong as usual. “The answer is not love, as you shouted, but fate. Fate and prophecy are entertwined to suggest a path for our lives. And though they are changeable, it is rare that they do. Unlike love, they are set in place long before the heart ever is.”

Hermione, still embarassed, looked around the room at her peers. Most were no longer looking at her in amusement with smirks on their lips. Most had gone back to their work and quills, and yet two of the students were still staring at her with Slytherin sneers, as if they’d been observers of her dream. Crabbe and Goyle. Out of every classmate, they were the most dangerous to her secret, for they blabbed everything to anyone they came in contact with.

She made a face at them just as Trelawney realized something. ” Why do we have an empty seat? Who is missing?” From her desk she pulled a seating chart and scanned it with bespeckled eyes. “Mr. Malfoy? That’s unusual.” She looked up at the class. “Has anyone seen Draco Malfoy?”

Hermione had to force herself not to raise her hand. Though she loved being first to answer virtually any question first, this was one time she knew she should stay quiet. To acknowledge she knew he was with Umbridge would reveal the fact she’d been with him. That she’d known more about his movements than anyone else, even his own friends and gang. So she sat there mute, squirming in her forced silence, while her mind returned to the most threatening question of all: Was she in love with Draco?

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Love Is The Darkest Art 5

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 7:

“Hermione Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, after dismissing the class. ‘You seem very distracted today. You are certainly not your usual self.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Hermione replied. She was still seated at her desk, though her Transfiguration teacher walked about the room.

“I noticed a glance between you and Draco Falfoy. Is he bothering you, or threatening you in some way?”

She looked at the professor in mock surprise. “Oh no, nothing like that. I think he was just asking something about …um, the question.”

“To which you were daydreaming.”

“Yes professor, I’m sorry. I’ve been studying so hard I’m losing sleep I guess.”

McGonagall seemed to think about that a moment and then said, “Well, be sure to get your proper rest from now on. The mind must stay sharp in these times.” She offered a reassuring smile. “You are dismissed now, Miss Granger.”

“Thank you.” Hermione gathered her books and got up to leave. But halfway across the room, she stopped. “Professor, can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly, child. What is it?”

“I’m not sure if you can help me.”

“I can try.”

Hermione looked at her, then glanced away, uncertain on how to proceed. “There’s this…um…boy…and he’s ..well…”

“Causing you to lose sleep?”

Hermione smiled shyly. “Not yet. But I’m afraid he will. And I’m not even certain how much I like him….Just that I do. And that I shouldn’t. Oh professor, I’m so confused…I shouldn’t have dumped this on you, I’m sorry. I should get to my next class.”

McGonagall stopped her. “Granger, I’m no stranger to the confusions and machinations of the heart. We want what we want, after all. We can all be faced with the should I or shouldn’t when it comes to love.”

“Love? No wait, i didn’t mean…”

“Did you know I was married once, Hermione?”

“Um, I had heard….”

“I had two opportunities at love. Once long ago, a boy proposed to me, and I readily agreed. But I realized to marry me, I would have to expose him to everything about me, including my wizarding abilities. Because he was muggle born I had to make a choice. My wizarding studies or a life of secrecy.”

Hermione didnt know what to say. McGonagall always seemed to favor or have more hope in Hermione than some of her other students, but they’d never talked on this personal of a level until now.

“But you married him, right?”

McGonagall glanced out the window. “No, I did not. I married someone else. Someone who was considered…a better fit. Someone i could easily be with, and no one would bat a lash about it. But….I think about my first love all the time. And I wonder…” She looked up at the ceiling, or perhaps something beyond that. “I wonder…what if I had chosen differently. What if I had chosen a life of secrets…”

Suddenly she looked at Hermione in surprise, as if she herself had gotten caught up in a daydream of her own and had just realized it.

“Oh my, child, I’m sorry. I’m sure your dilemma is nothing like mine was.”

I’m almost certain it is, thought Hermione.

Scene 8:

Draco Malfoy waited around a corner. He was hoping he wouldn’t be seen. He wanted to catch Hermione once she left class. There was something he wanted her to know. A realization he felt the very moment he kissed her in the library. He wasn’t sure of his thoughts at the moment, or the change he feared was overcoming him. He had to know for certain what was happening to him, and hopefully her too. But yet for once he was scared. He’d never experienced anything like this before, so he didn’t know the proper way to proceed. He wiped his sweaty palms on his clothes and took a deep, calming breath.

The door to Transfiguration class opened and Hermione walked out. Draco stayed where he was and watched her, as she turned and went in the other direction. She hadn’t seen him, and he took advantage of that, admiring her from his hiding place. Everthing about her is magic, he thought. And this was the strangest he ever felt…

He launched himself from his hiding place and walked after her. He caught up to her quickly, snatching her textbook out of her hand before she was even aware of him. Taking a few playful steps backwards, Draco grinned mischievously as she spun around.

Hermione registered surprise, then mild irritation. “Draco, give me my book back. I’m going to be late for class.”

He started backing towards the corner he’d come out of. “What happened in class? I thought you knew how to read lips.”

“I do,” she said, coming after him. “You were moving your mouth too fast. As always.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh yeah? Well, go over there and we’ll try it again.”

“What?”

He pointed to the opposite side of the hall. “Walk over there and we’ll test your real lip reading skills.”

“Draco, we don’t have time for this. We are already late.”

“All the more reason to hurry. Now go.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Will you give me my book back if I do?”

“If you can read my lips.”

She gave him a stern look. “I can read your lips alright..” She turned and took a step toward the opposite wall. Before she could even take step two, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. It was a little rough and surprising, but she didn’t mind, because suddenly they were reading lips a different way.

His mouth opened against hers and she welcomed his kiss, his tongue passing her lips and playfully touching hers. She couldn’t help but drop her remaining textbooks and let them hit the floor with a dull thud. Draco dropped the one he’d taken and enfolded her in his arms. She fit within his embrace perfect as if her body was meant to be against him.

Draco hadn’t forgotten what he’d wanted to tell her and so he did. With his kiss full upon her lips he tried to whisper the truth but it was lost inside her mouth. Neither of them seemed to notice.

Yet someone noticed them. Someone else who was hiding in darkness. The figure scowled. Short and squat with curly mouse brown hair, she stepped into the light of the hall triumphant. Dolores Umbridge let out a “tsk, tsk,” and wagged her finger at the startled couple.

“Hermione Granger, I believe you are late for a class,” she said a little menacingly. “And you, Draco, are late for a meeting in my office.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Love Is The Darkest Art 4

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 5:

Hermione smiled at the memory. Here in the library, back in the present, enfolded in Draco’s arms, she had hoped for this. Ever since the yule ball, she had fantasized he would assert himself again. She didn’t understand her attraction. Perhaps Draco being the only one to lose himself and behave completely different at the sight of her had something to do with it. She knew her attraction was fairly new. Before the Ball, she hadn’t thought of him in any pleasant way. And yet now, her lips were pressed against his, while her heart beat out a rhythm she couldn’t keep up with. Butterflies in her stomach flew in all directions with the parting of her lips upon his. Now this was a real kiss. But what did it mean? After all, this was Malfoy. No one would understand. She couldnt tell her friends or even allow his friends to know what was transpiring within her. Maybe she could talk to a professor about these newfound emotions. But before she could dwell on it, she felt Draco’s hand low on her back. It pulled her closer and she sank into his embrace as if she’d craved this kind of attention forever.

There had been no interruption for the kiss. They had lingered upon each other’s mouth for just minutes, but when they parted it felt like hours had passed. Draco looked at her, and for a second she thought he’d smile, but he didn’t.

“Hermione, I…” he whispered. “I don’t…” He looked around them as if someone might see. “I should go.”

She was confused and her look told him so. “Draco, what is…” Then it occurred to her. He was ashamed he’d kissed her. He was now wishing he hadn’t. Or at least that’s what her mind was trying to tell her.

“If we get caught…” he began.

Her disappointment and hurt feelings began to show. “I understand…’ she said quietly.

“No you don’t,” he replied, and then as if he read her confused mind, “This is no trick. No regret. No teasing… well, perhaps it is a little bit of teasing.”

And then as if to bring the point home, he pulled her close once more, and nuzzled his mouth against her neck. She felt the tender kiss on her soft skin and she tilted her head away from his, allowing his kiss to roam up into her hair and ear, where he softly whispered, “Forgive me.”

Despite the pleasantness of their growing intimacy, her mind was suddenly alert. “For what,” she asked in a trembling voice.

” For everything every mean thing I did to you. It was to cover up for…this. To hide my feelings. My wants.”

“What do you want,” she dared to ask.

“This moment to last,” he murmured and clutched her to him as if someone would suddenly tear them apart.

Hermione was losing herself in his embrace. If she didn’t know better she would have thought he hexed her again, this time with amorous feelings. She knew they couldn’t stay here in the library forever, wrapped up in each other, but still just give me one minute longer her mind begged.

The minute was not wasted as this time it was her lips that sought out his own. If their kiss had an intended end, it was a long time coming.

“Everyone knows I wouldn’t spend this much time in the library studying,” he eventually said.

This made her laugh, and she realized not only was this their first real kissing, but also their first joy. She’d never shared a laugh or any other mirthful moment with the slytherin bad boy, and yet here it was. Had everything changed, and would it change more?

She looked in his eyes. “And everyone knows we should be enemies, not…”

She let it hang unsaid in the air, as if to finish the statement would make it so, would bring that uncontrollable, all consuming word to life. And if she were afraid of that, Draco apparently wasn’t.

“Lovers,” he finished.

Scene 6:

In class she couldn’t concentrate. Hermione berated herself for not being able to keep things in focus, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the library. And Draco. Kissing him had been nothing like she’d imagined. Not that she had spent much time imagining such things. But now here in class she couldn’t think of anything she normally would. Making socks for house elves. Nope. Her best friends Ron and Harry. Nope. Studying for her herbology quiz. Nope. Draco Malfoy. Yes indeed!

“Miss Granger, do you know the answer,” Prof. McGonagall asked.

Hermione suddenly sat up straight from her daydream. “Um, what? Professor?”

McGonagall frowned. This wasn’t like her pupil. “The answer to the question,” she answered. “Transfiguration class, Granger. Please attend in mind as well as in body .”

The rest of the class giggled. Hermione turned red. “Yes, professor.”

McGonagall turned her attention to her other students. “Now then, does anyone else know the answer?”

Hermione glanced around. A few had their hands raised half heartedly. But she wasn’t paying attention to them. She was concentrating on a student in the corner who was silently mouthing words in her direction. Draco. He gave her a look of slight exasperation and mouthed the words again, but she couldn’t follow. He was doing them too fast. When the professor turned to him he suddenly quit and acted like he was buried in his textbook. Once she looked elsewhere, he attempted his message to Hermione again.

She squinted her eyes and made a small gesture to show she couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell her.

“Miss Granger!”

“Yes, Professor,” she nearly shouted, turning away from Draco and looking to McGonagall.
She hoped no one saw her and Malfoy interacting. But she was almost certain the professor had.

“I’ll speak to you after class, Miss Granger.”

Now Hermione truly hung her head. This was a move beyond embarassment. This was shame. She always paid attention in class. So what was wrong with her?

As if providing her own answer she dared a secretive glance at Draco. He smirked, and she had to wonder if he had been mouthing anything at all. For a moment he seemed like the old Draco trying to get her in trouble. She made a resolution in her head not to allow it to happen again. No boy was worth the distraction, and certainly not Malfoy.

For a second she almost stuck her tongue out at him, as if they were little first years again, and he nothing more than a brat pulling pigtails for fun. But no, he pulled something else today. The strings of her heart. And right now it seemed as if he had tied them in a knot.

Love Is The Darkest Art 3

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 4:

The very first kiss had taken place not even a year earlier at the Yule Ball. It had been very awkward as she had been there as the date of Victor Krum, a famous Bulgarian Quiddich seeker, and Draco had been there with another Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson. It was a strange event, as it seemed all eyes had been on her that day, but the ones she noticed the most were the astonished grey silver orbs of her nemesis. Or at least that’s what she had thought of him then.

When she had first descended the steps and felt everyone’s eyes on her, it was Draco in his black velvet dress robe who she noticed, though she tried not to show it. It wasn’t that he was dressed for success, in fact the high collar of his robe looked a little ridiculous. No, it was the fact that for once he was speechless in her presence. The boy who earlier that year had hexed her and given her huge horrid teeth. The boy she had slapped two years ago for laughing about Buckbeat’s impending execution. The boy who almost certainly hated her for not being pureblood. And yet now, he was nothing like his usual self. In that fact, he turned away from her as she passed by him and his date. It wasn’t a rude or baleful turn, but one of embarrassment for staring at someone so long.

And then later that evening as Victor left her side to greet some of his fellow teammates, for some strange reason she found herself looking to see if Draco were anywhere around. After all, it gave her a sense of satisfaction to see him so uncomfortable at the sight of the new her, the young lady in the periwinkle blue. Her eyes found him standing in a corridor doorway. He was alone, leaning against the frame, and his eyes seemed to be boring holes into her.

She didn’t quite know why she wanted a confrontation. Perhaps she would find it fun, or seeing how he’d been speechless earlier, to goad him into some new insult, so he would be back to usual Malfoy behavior. Either way, she found herself approaching him.

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

He didn’t respond at first, and when he tried to smile it came off more like a smirk, but she didn’t mind. “My doom,” he finally replied.

“Do I look that bad? No wait, don’t answer that. You are not one who would say something nice.”

Again the smirk. “I was going to say you look beautiful, but since my words don’t matter…”

He turned away from her in an attempt to walk off but Hermione took a couple steps after him. “Draco, I’m sorry…”

He stopped, but didn’t turn to face her.

“I can’t believe I’m apologizing to you for anything…” Hermione continued.

“I guess that makes us even, for I cant believe I think you look…ravishing.”

He finally turned to look at her, took a few steps closer, then changed his mind, choosing instead to walk away, his black velvet robes swishing in his wake.

Hermione, against her better judgement, followef him into a dark corridor, away from the sound of the festivities. “Draco, what has gotten into you?”

He turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “You have. But perhaps it’s just the season. I shouldn’t be thinking such things about a mudblood.”

She let the comment slide. “What kind of things are you talking about? If you are planning some trick or insult to embarass me on this night, I will….”

He kissed her. It was quick but still a kiss. His lips touched hers and it was long enough to make her close her eyes and enjoy it, even if it was Draco. But then the moment was over, the brief smooch done, and she slapped him.

“Draco!” She scolded. “What are you doing?”

He touched his cheek where she slapped him. It was red. But so was her own face, whether in anger or embarassment, no one could tell. They stood looking at each other a moment, neither saying a word, but then he answered her.

“I was just …wanting…needing…no…” He stopped and hung his head. When he raised it again, he couldn’t look at her. “Hermione, the greatest tragedy in my life so far is… wanting what I know I can’t have.” He finally allowed his grey eyes to see her. “Everyone likes you. Krum. Potter. Weasley…”

“Ron? Don’t be ridiculous…”

“But I am ridiculous. Ridiculously, hopelessly, ….” He let it hang in the air.

Hermione waited for him to finish, but he never did. Never even had a chance to.

“Are you okay, angel?” A deep voice interrupted. It was Victor Krum.

Hermione smiled at her rugged date. “Yes, I’m fine…Draco and I were just talking.”

Krum looked at Malfoy and raised a thick eyebrow.

“A disagreement as usual,” Draco clarified. He looked at Hermione, his eyes unreadable, but seemingly cold again. “No need to discuss this later.”

Victor seemed satisfied, but Hermione peered at Draco with different, kinder eyes. “No disagreement,” she answered, “just bewilderment.”

As she walked off, her arm linked through Victor’s, she dared to glance back with some satisfaction. After all, she’d felt Draco’s eyes upon her, and though it surprised her to think so, she liked his attention, and as the hours passed on further into night, she found her mind returning to Draco’s attempt at a kiss.

Around The Corner (short story)

Authors note: This short story was created from a writing prompt on twitter. I can’t remember who posted it, but the first paragraph here was the prompt. The rest of the story is mine, inspired by it. Hope you enjoy it.

Around The Corner

The old homeless man didn’t talk to people. He was dead silent on the church steps, while the other street people pushed raucous carts and screamed obscenities. “You,” he said, lifting a gnarled finger, his eyes milky. “I see death around the corner.”

The woman with the baby carriage looked at him in shock, then horror. Quickly she pushed it in the other direction, hushing the baby within the whole way.

The homeless man put his hands in his lap and was silent again. A young couple, holding hands and giggling, crossed the street not far from where he was. Once again he lifted his gnarled finger and pointed. “You,” he intoned. “I see death around the corner.”

Very quickly, the couple hurried down the sidewalk, casting furtive glances back at him. Their hushed voices revealed to any passerby their uneasiness at being spoken to by this ancient, dirty faced wretch. Once gone however, they didnt think of him again, and the old man placed his hands in his lap in again.

Another old man, this one better dressed and groomed, hobbled down the walk with the use of a cane. Despite his limp, he seemed accustomed to it, and moved briskly on shaky, spindly legs. The homeless man pointed at him and gave his usual proclamation. “You. I see death around the corner.”

The old man stopped briefly, wobbling on his cane. He didn’t look at the homeless man, but just shook his head. Then he resumed his unsteady, but sure walk. He didn’t even see the man lower his hands back to his lap. Just another beggar, he reasoned.

On the church steps the homeless man remained, quiet and reserved between the occasional finger pointing and warning. Everyone either ignored or avoided his judgements as they went about their day.
A cab pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street. The old man watched its rear door open and a very well fashioned figure emerged. Dressed to the nines in a pressed formal tuxedo and top hat, sporting a polished silver tipped cane, the passenger paid the driver. The cab moved on and the smartly dressed gentleman stood on the opposite sidewalk. He pulled a pocket watch from inside his waist coat and looked at it. He nodded and smiled, looking up at the church building.

The homeless man sat undisturbed and watched the figure cross the street. Slowly, he lifted his finger and pointed at the stranger. “You,” he said, as the man stopped at the steps, and leaned nonchalantly on his cane. “I see death around the corner.”

The stranger smiled. “Of course you do,” he replied in a deep monotone voice. He looked at the homeless man who just stared back, neither one wavering from their half smiles. For the stranger, his smile seemed to suck the very joy from the surrounding air. For the homeless man, his smile was one of a person who had ran a race aimlessly only to find himself at the finishing line among friends.

The stranger held out a black gloved hand. “Shall we?”

The homeless man lifted his hand, his finger no longer pointing outward, and took the stranger’s gentle grasp. Allowing the stranger to help him stand, he got up. He slipped his arm inside the stranger’s and looked up into his dark eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure,” the stranger replied, and the two began to walk together down the walk. No one paid them any attention. The world went about its business. And the two figures disappeared around the corner.

Love Is The Darkest Art Part 2

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 3:

Draco Malfoy shoved his way out of the library. Rounding the corner he let out a long baited breath. Leaning against the wall, he looked at the palm of his hand, discerning the place Hermione’s lips had been against it as he held her mouth shut. He closed his eyes for a moment and he could almost see her image behind his eyelids. He shook his head as if he were trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. He opened his eyes just in time to see Neville leaving the library, a couple of books in his hands. Normally, Draco would have done something. Made fun of him, tripped him up, something. But instead he let him pass by unmolested. Once the boy was out of sight, Draco clenched his fists and returned to the library.

Hermione was gone. She wasn’t where he left her. He checked a few nearby aisles and there was no sign of her. This puzzled the Slytherin boy. She hadn’t left by the main doors. He’d been standing there. How did she manage to evade him? The answer was simple. She still had to be in the library. Somewhere.

He made his way back to the front desk. Perhaps she was checking out some books or something. But no one was at the desk. Even Madam Pince was gone. This made no sense at all. And so Draco wandered up and down the aisles. He thought of calling out her name, or at least whispering it. But he thought if someone else heard him they would wonder why he was calling her name. So instead he moved silently among the shelves, trying to catch a glimpse of where she’d disappeared to.

After some time he gave up. He returned to the divination aisle where he’d first found her. He started scanning the shelves though he knew Umbridge had removed a large number of books from the section.

“What were you looking for?” he mumbled to himself.

Just then there was movement to his left. It startled him, but he didn’t jump. After all it was Hermione. At last. With a toss of her brown hair she walked down the aisle towards him.

“You know,” she said, “the next time you come looking for me…”

“I wasn’t looking for you.”

She smirked. “Okay then, next time we meet..”

“This wasn’t a meeting.” Then he smirked back. He was better at it than she. “I don’t even like you, Granger.”

“And I like you even less,” she replied quietly.

He nodded, taking a step closer. So close there were only inches between them. “Then let’s keep it that way,” he agreed.

Before she could make another retort, he kissed her, full yet light on the lips. Hermione closed her eyes and let it settle there. This wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but it was the longest, his lips barely leaving hers before pressing them once again, his mouth pleasantly parting with hers, tongues briefly touching as he took her into his embrace, one hand touching her cheek, the other resting lightly on her throat.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, gently pulling him to her so that even air couldn’t pass between their bodies. She leaned her face into his hand and imagined his long fingers lingering on her forever. The fact they were in the library seemed to fall away from her, replaced with the single thought of floating on clouds high up in a starry night sky, two lovers entwined in the darkness where no one could see.

Draco pulled himself slowly from her kiss. “You know I adore you, right?” When she nodded, he added, “No matter what I say in front of others, you are my true magic, mudblood.”

She smiled. While it seemed an insult to call her that in public, in private it meant something different to her. It was about her uniqueness, the strange, unexplainable blending of their two souls, one of purety, the other of fault.

“I…,” she tried to say. “I..I am so…”

“Shhhh,” he whispered and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but melt against him, the silence in the library contrasting with the steady, overpowering thrum of their hearts keeping time against the other.

TO BE CONTINUED?

Paul’s note: My apologies this part is so short. I’ll do better next time 😉

Love Is The Darkest Art Part 1

Okay, it’s been awhile since i shared any writing, so here we go with something different, my Harry Potter themed fan fic project. I guess most aspiring or serious writers wouldn’t spend the time to write something they could never publish or monetize, but for me fan fic serves several purposes. For one, in writing fan fic you get the chance to celebrate and immerse yourself in something that obviously inspires you to be a writer. Two, it is awesome writing practice, helping you build on pre-existing characters and themes. And three, it has the potential to attract others who would not otherwise discover your other works.

So with that said, I have found myself attending a Hogwarts where Bad boy Draco Malfoy discovers he has a very soft spot Hermione Granger in year 5 and together they embark on a secret romance while new professor Dolores Umbridge would like nothing more than destroy them both.

It’s called “Love is the darkest art” , so let us begin, shall we? All comments, critique, and discussions about my take on this, or about Potter fandom in general is more than welcome. And yes, I know this isn’t for everyone, and there will be haters, but hey it’s just storytelling, folks…relax 😉

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fan fic serial

Scene 1:

“Granger,” the voice said, and she froze. Though her back was to him she knew that voice. The only one that gave her cold chills, that invaded her dreams with sweats of cruelty and irritation. She turned.

“Malfoy,” Hermoine scoffed, dismissing him with a glare. She looked first at Ron, then Harry, before she dared to meet Draco’s usual insult. Yesterday it was about her muggle parents, the day before it was about her secondhand wardrobe. Today it was probably her hair or something. Stupid insults from a sixteen year old immature scoundrel.

“Congratulations on becoming prefect,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Perhaps now you can do what you do best and be snooty and boss others around.”

He looked at his two companions, Crabbe and Goyle and snickered. “Snooty,” snorted Crabbe. “Bossy,” agreed Goyle.

Hermoine didn’t even afford Draco’s cronies a glance. They were just mindless sheep. No she instead directed her ire at Malfoy himself. “Well at least i earned the title. Everything you earn comes as a gift from your father.”

“Ooh,” winced Harry, adjusting his glasses.

“Good one,” whispered Ron.

Draco Malfoy however was livid. The permanent sneer that was usually on his face disappeared. He looked at Hermoine with cold, vengeful eyes.

“One day Granger,” he snarled. “You won’t be around your friends. You’ll be alone and unprotected. We’ll see how funny you are then.”

He pushed past her, his shoulder bumping her own so hard it nearly knocked her down.

“Hey,” Harry shouted before both Crabbe and Goyle bumped into him in the same fashion. Harry staggered slightly but still protested. “We’ll turn you in!”

The trio of thugs just kept walking and didnt look back. Harry turned to Hermoine who was holding her shoulder where Malfoy had bumped her. “You’re a prefect now. You should report them.”

Hermoine shook her head. “It wouldn’t do any good. He’d just say I insulted his father. Lucius has the school in his pocket.”

Ron grumbled. “Yeah, and Umbridge would probably reward Draco with a free trip to…”

“Hello Harry,” a soft voice spoke as it passed. Seeing the blond wisps of hair flying in all directions, Harry knew exactly who it was. That, and the fact the person carried an open umbrella on a perfectly dry day, told him it was Luna Lovegood. But before he could even respond, she was gone, disappearing in the crowd of students who lingered outside of classes.

“Shes weird,” Ron said.

“At least she’s consistent,” Harry replied. After all, everytime she saw him she greeted him formally. He kind of liked the celebrity. This year, his fifth, had started out with the negative fallout from Cedric Diggiry’s death. Though it happened at the end of the previous school year, it was still much the talk among students and garnered Harry plenty of suspicious looks. So any kind of good greeting was fine by Potter.

“She’s not weird,” Hermoine said. “It’s just no one understands her.” She looked down the hallway where Draco and his pals had gone.

Harry patted her on her back. “Oh, don’t worry, Hermoine, we understand you.”

She smiled and turned to look at her truest friends. “I know, guys. You both are wonderful.”

Ron made a face.

Scene 2:

Hermoine turned off a corridor on the first floor and entered the library. At this time of day not many students frequented the great room that housed thousand upon thousands of books. Madam Irma Pince sat behind a large oak desk, sifting through some ancient parchments laid out across the top. She looked up and noticed Hermoine, who was a frequent visitor to the world of Hogwart’s volumes and tomes. Hermoine gives her her usual friendly wave and heads into the aisles. On an apparent search down the thin rows of shelves, anyone could tell she wasn’t just looking for any old book, or even something casual to picque her interest in her spare hours. She was on a serious mission.

She rounded a corner and went down the Divination aisle, hoping to find something useful to answer the questions in her head this particular morning, and many before. Looking at the titles on the shelf, she was confused. Where the books on divination should be there were very few titles. When she had last visited the library there were countless tomes on the subject. Now there were only a few dozen if that. There were still books on the history of the craft, or profiles on great teachers, but there no spell books, encyclopedias of incantations, nothing to instruct the student on practicing the art of seeing into the future and all its possibilities. This troubled her on several levels. For one, though she wasn’t into divining her own future, there was something she wanted to know, a curiosity that bugged her on things to come or not. But someone didn’t want the students to practice this. No one could have checked out all the books and then reshuffled the shelves to make it appear as if they had never been there. Was this Umbridge’s doing? She knew she’d changed the curriculum of the dark arts class and was no longer teaching defensive techniques, but had she somehow managed to remove books she didn’t want students to read as well?

Out of curiosity, Hermione thought she’d check other subjects as well. She walked briskly up and down other aisles, trying to determine what was missing until she finally came to the section of books for defense of the dark arts. In shock, she saw there were only two. What is going on, she thought to herself, reaching for one of the volumes. She lay her hand on it, started to pull it off the shelf, when to her surprise it pulled away from her and set itself back in line with the other books on the shelf. She reached for the other volume, touched its spine, and it jerked away from her as if it had a life of its own, or was enchanted by a spell. When she reached for yet another book, she hesitated and didn’t touch it. The book pulled away anyway. This was no spell she realized. The actions of these books had a human agent. And they were in the next aisle over.

She ran to the end of the aisle and popped her head around the corner. Charging into the aisle she stopped short. Someone was standing there, leaning against the shelf, arms crossed with a malicious smirk on his face. He turned to the shelf and slid the book he’d pulled from her side back into place. He took a step towards her, haughty and proud, and flipped a pale lock out of his face.

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione whispered.

“You know, mudblood, that was a cheap shot earlier about my dad.”

“You know how I feel about your father,” she replied.

He shrugged. “And how he feels about you.” He waited a moment, and then added, “How I feel about you.”

Hermione closed her eyes for a second and then looked at Draco. She opened her mouth to say something, but in a swift motion he covered her lips with his hand. “Shhh, it’s Umbridge.”

He pushed her against the shelf, nearly pinning her to the wooden rack with his body. He was close enough that she could feel Draco’s breath at the side of her face. She felt it on the bare skin of her neck and she closed her eyes for a moment, struggling slightly for him to release her.

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “She’ll hear us. She’s been removing books for several days now. If she catches us, we’ll get detention.” Then he let out a quiet laugh. “Not only the damage to both our reputations.”

A noise shuffled from the next aisle over. Someone was looking through the books. The slow shuffle of their feet let Hermione know the person was moving off. But instead of moving away, the person came around the corner and Draco let her go, releasing her from his grip. She quickly put a few feet between them as Neville Longbottom stood there staring at them.

No one said anything for a moment, and then Draco glared at Hermione. “Watch your back, Granger,” he snarled. “I’m not done with you yet.” Then he pushed past Neville, bumping his shoulder as he went by.

“Nor I with you, jerk,” Hermione called after him.

Scene 3:

Draco Malfoy shoved his way out of the library. Rounding the corner he let out a long baited breath. Leaning against the wall, he looked at the palm of his hand, discerning the place Hermione’s lips had been against it as he held her mouth shut. He closed his eyes for a moment and he could almost see her image behind his eyelids. He shook his head as if he were trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. He opened his eyes just in time to see Neville leaving the library, a couple of books in his hands. Normally, Draco would have done something. Made fun of him, tripped him up, something. But instead he let him pass by unmolested. Once the boy was out of sight, Draco clenched his fists and returned to the library.

Hermione was gone. She wasn’t where he left her. He checked a few nearby aisles and there was no sign of her. This puzzled the Slytherin boy. She hadn’t left by the main doors. He’d been standing there. How did she manage to evade him? The answer was simple. She still had to be in the library. Somewhere.

He made his way back to the front desk. Perhaps she was checking out some books or something. But no one was at the desk. Even Madam Pince was gone. This made no sense at all. And so Draco wandered up and down the aisles. He thought of calling out her name, or at least whispering it. But he thought if someone else heard him they would wonder why he was calling her name. So instead he moved silently among the shelves, trying to catch a glimpse of where she’d disappeared to.

After some time he gave up. He returned to the divination aisle where he’d first found her. He started scanning the shelves though he knew Umbridge had removed a large number of books from the section.

“What were you looking for?” he mumbled to himself.

Just then there was movement to his left. It startled him, but he didn’t jump. After all it was Hermione. At last. With a toss of her brown hair she walked down the aisle towards him.

“You know,” she said, “the next time you come looking for me…”

“I wasn’t looking for you.”

She smirked. “Okay then, next time we meet..”

“This wasn’t a meeting.” Then he smirked back, though he was better at it than she. “I don’t even like you, Granger.”

“And I like you even less,” she replied quietly.

He nodded, taking a step closer. So close there were only inches between them. “Then let’s keep it that way,” he agreed.

Before she could make another retort, he kissed her, full and light on the lips. Hermione closed her eyes and let it settle there. This wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but it was the longest, his lips barely leaving hers before pressing them once again, his mouth pleasantly parting with hers, tongues briefly touching as he took her into his embrace, one hand touching her cheek, the other resting lightly on her throat.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, gently pulling him to her so that even air couldn’t pass between their bodies. She leaned her face into his hand and imagined his long fingers touching her bare skin in other places. The fact they were in the library seemed to fall away from her, replaced with the single thought of floating on clouds high up in a starry night sky, two lovers entwined in the darkness where no one could see.

Draco pulled himself slowly from her kiss. “You know I adore you, right?” When she nodded, he added, “No matter what I say in front of others, you are my true magic, mudblood.”

She smiled. While it seemed an insult to call her that in public, in private it meant something different to her. It was about her uniqueness, the strange, unexplainable blending of their two souls, one of purety, the other of fault.

“I…,” she tried to say. “I..I am so…”

“Shhhh,” he whispered and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but melt against him, the silence in the library contrasting with the steady, overpowering thrum of their hearts keeping time against the other.

Scene 4:

The very first kiss had taken place not even a year earlier at the Yule Ball. It had been very awkward as she had been there as the date of Victor Krum, international Quiddich champion, and Draco had been there with another Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson. It was a strange event, as it seemed all eyes had been on her that day, but the ones she noticed the most were the astonished grey silver orbs of her nemesis. Or at least that’s what she had thought of him then.

When she had first descended the steps and felt everyone’s eyes on her, it was Draco in his black velvet dress robe who she noticed, though she tried not to show it. It wasn’t that he was dressed for success, in fact the high collar of his robe looked a little ridiculous. No, it was the fact that for once he was speechless in her presence. The boy who earlier that year had hexed her and given her huge horrid teeth. The boy she had slapped two years ago for laughing about Buckbeat’s impending execution. The boy who almost certainly hated her for not being pureblood. And yet now, he was nothing like his usual self. In that fact, he turned away from her as she passed by him and his date. It wasn’t a rude or baleful turn, but one of embarrassment for staring at someone so long.

And then later that evening as Victor left her side to greet some of his fellow teammates, for some strange reason she found herself looking to see if Draco were anywhere around. After all, it gave her a sense of satisfaction to see him so uncomfortable at the sight of the new her, the young lady in the periwinkle blue. Her eyes found him standing in a corridor doorway. He was alone, leaning against the frame, and his eyes seemed to be boring holes into her.

She didn’t quite know why she wanted a confrontation. Perhaps she would find it fun, or seeing how he’d been speechless earlier, to goad him into some new insult, so he would be back to usual Malfoy behavior. Either way, she found herself approaching him.

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

He didn’t respond at first, and when he tried to smile it came off more like a smirk, but she didn’t mind. “My doom,” he finally replied.

“Do I look that bad? No wait, don’t answer that. You are not one who would say something nice.”

Again the smirk. “I was going to say you look beautiful, but since my words don’t matter…”

He turned away from her in an attempt to walk off but Hermione took a couple steps after him. “Draco, I’m sorry…”

He stopped, but didn’t turn to face her.

“I can’t believe I’m apologizing to you for anything…” Hermione continued.

“I guess that makes us even, for I cant believe I think you look…ravishing.”

He finally turned to look at her, took a few steps closer, then changed his mind, choosing instead to walk away, his black velvet robes swishing in his wake.

Hermione, against her better judgement, followef him into a dark corridor, away from the sound of the festivities. “Draco, what has gotten into you?”

He turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “You have. But perhaps it’s just the season. I shouldn’t be thinking such things about a mudblood.”

She let the comment slide. “What kind of things are you talking about? If you are planning some trick or insult to embarass me on this night, I will….”

He kissed her. It was quick but still a kiss. His lips touched hers and it was long enough to make her close her eyes and enjoy it, even if it was Draco. But then the moment was over, the brief smooch done, and she slapped him.

“Draco!” She scolded. “What are you doing?”

He touched his cheek where she slapped him. It was red. But so was her own face, whether in anger or embarassment, no one could tell. They stood looking at each other a moment, neither saying a word, but then he answered her.

“I was just …wanting…needing…no…” He stopped and hung his head. When he raised it again, he couldn’t look at her. “Hermione, the greatest tragedy in my life so far is… wanting what I know I can’t have.” He finally allowed his grey eyes to see her. “Everyone likes you. Krum. Potter. Weasley…”

“Ron? Don’t be ridiculous…”

“But I am ridiculous. Ridiculously, hopelessly, ….” He let it hang in the air.

Hermione waited for him to finish, but he never did. Never even had a chance to.

“Are you okay, angel?” A deep voice interrupted. It was Victor Krum.

Hermione smiled at her rugged date. “Yes, I’m fine…Draco and I were just talking.”

Krum looked at Malfoy and raised a thick eyebrow.

“A disagreement as usual,” Draco clarified. He looked at Hermione, his eyes unreadable, but seemingly cold again. “No need to discuss this later.”

Victor seemed satisfied, but Hermione peered at Draco with different, kinder eyes. “No disagreement,” she answered, “just bewilderment.”

As she walked off, her arm linked through Victor’s, she dared to glance back with some satisfaction. After all, she’d felt Draco’s eyes upon her, and though it surprised her to think so, she liked his attention, and as the hours passed on further into night, she found her mind returning to Draco’s attempt at a kiss.

To Be Continued