Love Is The Darkest Art 17

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 23:

Hermione hadn’t spoken to Draco for a whole two days. That may not seem like a long time to some, but to her it felt like forever. It was almost as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth. The day after she’d thrown the Flipendo spell at him she saw him that morning in class but he was summoned to Umbridge’s office and didn’t even look at her. She tried her best to get his attention, even on his way out, and yet he didn’t once look in her direction, even though her desk was closest to the door. If there was such a thing as giving someone a cold shoulder, then his was compleyely frozen.

As the rest of the class droned on, she found herself thankful it was Friday. Tomorrow she’d be meeting friends at the Hogshead and hopefully wouldnt feel so lost without Draco. He’d come to mean so much to her in recent times that this distance between them made her think she’d been transported back to Year 3 or something.They had hated each other then. She’d even punched Malfoy in the face. He’d run away then too, but this was different. In Year 3 it had been humiliation. Here in year 5 however, it was hurt.

She looked down at her textbook, hoping to focus on today’s lesson, but it was no use. Instead of words and diagrams on the page, all she could see in her mind’s eye were memories of the past few days. The library. The hidden tent in the forest. Under the invisibility cloak in a hall full of students. And in every memory there was Draco. Holding her. Touching. Kissing. Confessing his love for her. And yet she had remained silent. She fought the urge to cry in class. Instead of dealing with her most tender emotions, she’d hurt him instead. And it was eating her up.

She felt eyes on her. It was one of those awareness things where you just knew someone was staring at you. She lifted her head and looked around the room. Only one person was looking at her. Ron Weasley. He smiled sadly in her direction. His eyes looked down at her feet. She leaned over in her chair to look. A badly folded paper owl lay close to her feet. Trying not to draw attention, she reached down and picked it up, unfolding the note in her lap. “You sick?” it read.

Hermione looked at her friend and shook her head. She wished she could tell him the reason for her melancholy but she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell anybody. She felt so alone, as if she were walking around Hogwarts stumbling and lost. Everyone needed somebody to talk to. And she did have that kind of support group with Harry and Ron, but her relationship with Draco had changed that. Before she hadn’t had much in the way of secrets. But now she did. And she found herself wondering how many Draco might have himself.

Scene 24:

Draco Malfoy found himself sitting across the desk from Prof. Umbridge. Though there was serious doubt among students and staff alike that she was a real professor, Draco knew that she had a dangerous power over his education. She didn’t speak to him for several minutes, instead using the time to pretend she was sifting through important papers on her desktop. Finally she sighed.

“So young Malfoy, what do you have for me,” she finally asked, glancing up at him.

“Excuse me, Professor?”

“We had a deal. You would pass me information as you learn it in exchange for me not revealing your…um…cute little romance.”

Draco wanted to tell her she broke any such deal when she went to his house and told his parents. But he didn’t say anything. He knew better than to step on the tail of a poisonous snake. “I have nothing, I’m sorry. ”

“I see,” she said. She shifted in her seat and for a moment he thought she’d grown taller in the chair. “It has come to my attention that your little girlfriend is plotting against my curriculum.”

“I hadn’t heard…”

She slapped her hands down on the desk and it made a loud crack that silenced him.
“You mean to tell me, that you of all students, having an intimate time with Miss Granger, is the only one who has not been approached to form a special, secret class to learn her aggressive version of Dark Arts Defense.”

It’s true he hadnt heard. Hermione had never spoke of it with him. “Why would I need to learn that?” he reasoned aloud. “My family has always preferred the offense.”

“I am well aware of your family’s darker connections. But the ministry is very very concerned that your lover is plotting against it.”

“I’m sorry, but she’s never brought it up in converation.”]

“Perhaps if you would stop trying to suck her lips off she could speak,” Dolores replied snidely. “Now, I want to know what you are going to about this secret sedition.”

“Me? I dont think….”

She stood up suddenly. He jumped a little but she was so short she hardly towered over his sitting form. “I don’t care what you think, Malfoy. You are going to stop this. You are in the perfect position to halt this exercise in insubordination. And I expect you to look into now!”

Draco looked at her for a moment. He and Hermione weren’t exactly on the best of terms. They may have shared many intimate moments but what did that mean. Really?
He smiled cruelly at Dolores Umbridge. “What is it you want me to do?”

Her return grin was just as cruel. “Another student has informed me there is a meeting this weekend. A secret one off school property. At the Hogshead.”

“I havent bern invited.”

“So crash it.”

Draco stood. “Very well. But after this…”

“After this weekend, nothing else will matter,” she replied, and with that Draco was dismissed back into the hall, where he could finally breathe again.

He stood there outside her classroom a moment, his mind filled with all the things she’d said. And the detail that stood out the most was this: Hermione had turned down his offer to hang out the weekend because she was masterminding a meeting to overthrow Umbridge. Even before she’d attacked him, perhaps even as a result. He had to let her know exactly where he stood on such things. Where his loyalties were. What was most important to him. He grinned, and a few second years saw him and turned the other way. Other students began to arrive for Umbridge’s next class.

We’re all mindless sheep he thought, but not anymore. He strode down the hall, head held high, smug smile on his lips. Perhaps Umbridge was right. After this weekend, nothing much else would matter.

Scene 25:

Lord Voldemort stood in the darkness. Beside him was a window, but it had been bricked up to shut out all light. He hated the light. It reminded him of all the things he loathed. It reminded him of his failure. Harry Potter.

“Nagini,” he spake.

A large snake, coiled up in a corner began to unravel and lifted its head. “Yessss,” it hissed.

“He disturbs me,” Voldemort darkly mused. “There must be a way to bring him to me.”

“Yessssss…”

“No not yet. I need you here. But do not worry. I will send you visiting someone soon enough. No, i think this requires something more subtle than killing.”

A knock came upon the door and the snake’s head turned. Voldemort placed his hand on the creature’s head. In anyone else the gesture would have seemed affectionate, but the dark lord only meant it to still Nagini, to allay his companion’s tenses.

“They’ve been invited,” Voldemort explained, and then, “Enter.”

The door creaked open to reveal a young man in a black cloak. While only in his twenties, scarring on his face made him look older and far more frightening than a university student. Still he stepped into the room with a little hesitation, as if to be summoned was not high on his list of pleasant experiences.

“You wished to see me, m’lord.”

Voldemort attempted a smile, but it looked crooked, more like a grimace than mirth. “Yes. I have need of your…talents.”

For a second it seemed as if the visitor’s face changed slightly, features rearranging briefly before settling back to its horrid scarred tissue. He bowed slightly. “I await your wish, m’lord.”

“I wish you to bring me a…girl.”

The man raised an eyebrow. He knew of the Dark Lord’s obsession with Harry Potter, and had assumed his task would have something to do with that. But a girl…

“Oh it does,” Voldemort said as if reading his visitor’s thoughts. “It has everything to do with…Potter. Her name is Hermione Granger.”

Beneath his bony hand, Nagini stirred excitedly.

Love Is The Darkest Art 16

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 22:

Hermione hated this. Having to make a swift decision what to do. But no matter what intimate moments she and Draco had shared, her conscience wouldn’t allow her to stand by and watch him run down Neville for God-knows-what. And so she threw a spell at him. Maybe a little too hard, she realized the moment it left her wand and flipped him to the ground on his back.

The wind was knocked out of Draco, but he jumped back up quickly with wand ready. He pointed it at Hermione, his face red with anger. Pain was shooting up his back. His mind went in wild circles of why. His hand shook and it was difficult just steadying his wand to retaliate. But he couldn’t bring himself to utter a return spell. It wasnt the fact that both Harry and Ron had their wands drawn and pointing at him too. No, he couldn’t because it was Hermione.

Mere minutes ago he’d confessed his love for her. Now she was firing curses his way. And for why? She should have known he wasn’t really going to attack Neville. It was all for show. To keep Ron and Harry from suspecting anything.

His eyes welled up in tears as he stared back at “his girl” in disbelief. His lips trembled along with his wand hand. But before the tears could fully come, he ran. Not towards Neville and Luna, but to the forest. The forest students weren’t supposed to go, and yet he and Hermione had gone, relishing moments inside a tent. Harry and Ron had entered too, searching for their missing friend, but Draco knew today he would go in alone and no one would look for him. No one cared. Certainly not Granger.

He didn’t look back as he fled. If he had done so, he knew he’d stop. He would show something of himself no one had ever seen. The pain and loneliness he’d endured his whole life. The hopelessness of trying to live up to the standards of others. The emptiness of the soul that Hermione had filled. Now that filled emptiness was pouring out of him with his tears. And instead of contentment, questions now took root inside. Questions that spoke to him in the same way Voldemort’s whispers spake to the death eaters in the dead of night.

Into the forest he went, knowing his destination before he even arrived. A spell may have rendered it unseen to anyone else, but he remembered where the tent was and how to remove the charm so that he could clamber inside and away from the cruelties of the world.

Inside, he curled up in a ball and finally let his cry out. It was born of hurt from both his humiliation and the rising thought that Hermione had never cared like she let on. This nagging, cruel voice from within tempted him with the idea she’d been playing him all along.

‘She’s used you,’ it whispered. ‘To find out what the other side was doing. She’s probably telling Harry and Ron everything about you. Laughing about everything the two and you have done. Then they’ll tell Dumbledore or whomever. And then everyone, all of Hogwarts, will laugh at you.’
He held his hands over his ears but the voices still came, not as audible sounds but unheard thoughts that invaded his conscious, lulling him into believing the worst about the most wonderful girl he’d known.

Scene 23:

Hermione lay in her bed, curled up on one side. She’d told other girls in the dorm she wasn’t feeling good and wouldn’t be attending any of her late afternoon classes. She knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed and someone of authority would eventually show up to question her ‘illness’. But for the time being she didn’t care. She was too busy beating herself up over what had transpired out by Hagrid’s hut. She should have left Draco alone, let him do whatever to Neville. She shouldn’t have used such a harsh spell and sent it to him so hard. Some spells and charms had a way of getting out of hand if you didn’t pull them back a little. But she hadn’t pulled back at all and it had hurt Draco in more ways than one. She’d seen it in his eyes. The hurt. The anguish. He had to know she didn’t mean to hurt him. That she just wanted him not to hurt anyone else to hide their love affair. But that look on his face told her he hadn’t understood. That old cloudy darkness seemed to wash over him and she wondered if after everything they’d shared, whether she could repair the damage done. She’d never viewed Draco as a fragile boy before, but after seeing into his true heart and hearing his own tender confession of love, she dreaded what all this was going to do to them both.

She’d watched him run into the forest alone. None of them had followed. Harry and Ron congratulated her on the defensive spell, despite her insertion that it was too much. “Who cares?” Ron had said. “About time Malfoy gets a dose of his own medicine.”

She didn’t feel that way though. She wanted to run after Draco and tell him she was sorry, but she stayed rooted to the spot. If she took off after him, her friends would know something was up. They would question why she first defended Neville then wanted to tearfully apologize to his would be attacker. Because of the antagonizing way Draco and Hermione had treated each other in the past, anyone would be able to tell they had softened their feelings now. And as much as she cared about him, she knew they had to stay a secret. She could tell no one about things she and Draco had done. It would create so much division among her friends. And here they were, on the verge of rebelling against the school, fraternizing with The Order Of The Phoenix, preparing to defend themselves against the return of Voldemort and all those on his side. She couldn’t jeopardize that. All that work would be for nothing.
She cared for Draco deeply. This she knew. But could she trust him? Wasn’t he a Slytherin to the core? The sorting hat put him in that house for a reason. Perhaps it knew he was a danger to Hermione and her friends. Even then the magical world was trying to keep them separate.

She let her tears come. They dotted her pillow like raindrops collecting in a puddle. Oh, how she wished things were different. She wished they didn’t have to hide, that she could shout his name from the highest gable of Hogwarts. She wished she’d never uttered the spell today that threatened to ruin them. With this she thought of Draco alone in the forest and she longed to go to him. Wrap her arms around him, apologize until there were no more tears. Kiss his beautiful face and promise never to hurt him again. But she did none of this. She couldn’t. All she could do was lay in bed and cry.

“Hermione,” a voice whispered and she lifted her head to it. Standing beside her bed was a pretty girl, tall with ginger hair and a genuine look of concern on her face. “I heard you weren’t feeling well,” she said. “I brought you some chocolate frogs.”

Hermione managed to muster a smile. “Thank you Ginny,” she said. She sat up and accepted the package the girl was handing to her.

“Nothing cheers me up like chocolate,” Ginny replied. Then she looked at Hermione with a knowing look. “I suspect you’re not physically ill.”

Ron Weasley’s sister sat down beside her. She was younger than Hermione, but she seemed to be very astute when it came to boys. After all, Ginny had crushed on Harry Potter for years, but had recently given up on that notion. Maybe Hermione needed to do that with Draco.

“What do you suspect then?” Hermione asked, taking a bite of the candy. She pulled the included trading card from the package and looked at it. “Oh, that’s just great.”
Looking at the face on the card, it was Dorcas Wellbeloved. Famous witch and Founder of Society For Distressed Witches.
She looked at Ginny with a disgusted frown.

Ginny smiled however. “Well, I suspect you’re distressed.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You think?”

Love Is The Darkest Art 15

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 20:

Hermione liked this. Being on top of Draco and in control. Pleasantly pinning him, she lovingly kissed his ear, his neck, throat. She turned his head toward her and playfully bit at his lip, which he seemed to like. But he was distracted. With his eyes he directed her to look one aisle over at the two pairs of lover’s feet. He’d been the first to see them. In their act of trying to be quiet and undetected, Hermione had busied herself with planting silent kisses upon her boyfriend.

But now, seeing the two pairs of feet she realized they werent the only secret lovers in the greenhouse. After all, the barefoot feet, toenails painted strangely, stood on top of the boy’s shoes, as if trying to gain the height to share a kiss. From her vantage point, Hermione couldn’t see who they were, but if she moved a little atop Draco, she knew she might be able to slide out enough under the table to tell their identity.

With a little effort, she peered out from under the edge of the low table. She could just make out the figures this way, but they were so closely wrapped about each other she couldn’t see their faces. Just dark hair and yellow tresses nearly blending into one.

“Who is it?” Draco whispered.

“I don’t know, ” she answered, and then, “Oh hell…”

“What?”

“It’s…”

A voice, sounding incredulous in its tone, interrupted her. “Hermione, is that you?”

There was nothing she could do. She scrambled out from under the table.

“What are you doing?” Luna Lovegood asked, her barefeet squishing the loose dirt between her painted toes.

Hermione brushed the dust off her uniform. “Um…I…I just dropped something.”

Neville Longbottom came around the aisle and peered under the table. “What did you…”

No one said anything for a moment.

“I don’t see anything,” Neville finally noted. “Except…a boy’s shoe?” He reached under the table and picked it up. Hermione jerked it out of his hand.

“Yes I found it,” she explained. “I was going to take it to the lost and found.” Secretly she hoped that neither Draco nor his mother had etched his name inside it.

Hermione noticed Luna was now looking under the table too, but there was nothing else there. “You found it here?” the Ravenclaw girl asked. “What were you doing there? Class isn’t until next period, you know.” She them looked at Hermione with a suspicious eye. “Were you spying?”

“Oh, no. No. Not at all. Honest.”

Neville frowned. “It’s not what you think. Um..um…uh…I had something…uh…stuck in my teeth.”

Hermione smirked. “So Luna was helping you get it out?”

“Of course!” Luna exclaimed happily. “That’s exactly it!”

“I think it’s still there,” Hermione replied. “You didn’t get it all. Better try again.” Then she put on her biggest, brightest smile. “Got to run! See ya!”

She headed for the door, but before she could get out of the greenhouse, something unseen brushed past her. For a moment, she thought it touched her butt. Goosed, she let out a little yelp. Both Longbottom and Lovegood were looking at her strangely.

“Woo! It’s warm in here,” Hermione said, fanning her face. “I didn’t see you guys by the way. Laters!”

Now she went out the door. Luna called out after her. ‘We didn’t see you either!”

Neville looked at Luna with a lopsided smile. “See who?” Then he kissed her and she stepped up on his shoes again.

Scene 21:

Draco Malfoy made it all the way to Hagrid’s Hut before he removed the invisibility cloak. The scent of Hermione lingered on it still where they had lain on it. He hadn’t noticed until they were no longer together, and being alone beneath the cloak gave him a maddening longing to be holding her again.

This thought alone, of being without her, was a crushing notion and quite possibly his biggest fear. Being discovered would be one thing, but being forced apart much worse. In the beginning, he thought Hermione would end the relationship herself. He felt they were equals in many ways, but they did exist in different worlds. But then they started making their own world, separate from his clique, and certainly from hers as well. He never imagined she’d ever feel the same that he did. Never conceived the notion she would even allow him to kiss her. The relationship had already progressed beyond anything he had hoped. And it frightened him. He wasn’t used to this feeling of wanting, needing, or even desiring another, and yet here it was everytime he saw or thought of her.

Leaning against the side of Hagrid’s Hut, he let out a heavy sigh and begin to fold up the invisibilty cloak. No need to be unseen. He’d been invisible almost all day. He needed to be seen to avoid suspicion. To keep he and Hermione secret he had to do something someone would remember and tell the whole school. He pulled out his wand and let loose a quiet command of “reducio!” The invisibilty cloak shrunk to the size of his hand. He tucked it inside his uniform, trying to figure out in his head what to do to attract attention away from his secret love tryst. And then he saw her, walking across the field from the direction of the greenhouse. Hermione. All thoughts of mischief left him.

He pushed himself away from the wall and started towards her. As he passed the closed door of Hagrid’s Hut, it suddenly opened. But he wasnt paying attention. His eyes were on Hermione, his thoughts on the time they’d just spent on the greenhouse floor.

“Malfoy!” Someone shouted from behind him. He spun towards the voice, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand. But he stopped short of pulling it out. It was Harry and Ron. They had just come out of the hut.

Draco’s mind spun wildly. Had they been watching him from inside? What if they’d seen him with the invisibility cloak? He looked at them suspiciously. “What, Potter?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“None of your business, boy who lived.”

“That’s why you are out here,” Ron said, pointing his finger.

Both Harry and Draco looked. Hermione had stopped in the field and noticed them. She threw her hand up and waved happily. Ron and Harry waved back.

“You better not be planning another of your tricks on her,” Ron told Draco.

The Slytherin snorted. “I wouldn’t waste any magic on the likes of her.”

“You have before,” corrected Harry.

“Last time you altered her whole appearance,” agreed Ron. “She cried for days.”

“Well, boo-hoo.” He turned to look at Hermione, who was now heading towards them. “It was an improvement.”

“Oh shut up, Malfoy,” said Harry, hoping that Hermione couldn’t hear their conversation.

“Yeah,” Ron added. “She’s prettier than any girl you could ever get. You just wish she’d…”

“I wish she’d learn how to brush her hair. It obstructs my view in class.”

“Very funny, Draco,” Hermione replied, having stepped up to the boys. “Eventually you’ll run out of hair jokes and realize you can’t bleach the gray out of yours forever.”

“Ha, you’re older than me. By the time you learn what a comb is you will have lost your hair anyway.”

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “What do you care?”

“I don’t,” he hissed. “Not…one…single…bit.”

“Then why were you out here waiting for her?” Harry asked

Hermione looked at Draco. Something in her eyes expressed worry. This was getting too close.

“I wasn’t waiting for her,” Draco replied. “Not worth my time.”

“Then who were you waiting for?” demanded Ron.

“Them,” Draco grinned triumphantly, pointing at two more figures walking from the direction of the greenhouse.

“Neville and Luna?” asked Potter incredulously.

“Just Longbottom. Luna ain’t worth my time either.” He turned his steely gaze on Hermione. “No girl is.”

“Yeah, well no girl wants to be with you anyway, Bernie Botts Breath.”

Harry couldnt help but laugh. He’d tried just about every kind of Bernie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, and most made him want to puke.

Draco just made a “humph” sound under his breath and stalked off in the direction of Neville and Luna. “Hey Dungbottom!” he shouted. “We got a score to settle!”

Hearing this, Hermione remembered the rumor from the other day. Neither Draco nor Neville had been on time for class and stories had been spread they’d got in a fight. When Neville had finally shown up he had even shown signs of being in a scuffle. She didnt know what the fight had been about then, but now she couldn’t let Draco hurt anybody just to cover up their romance.

Hermione drew her wand. Pointing it at Draco’s back the tip began to glow blue, then purple. “Flipendo!” she shouted and the wand sparked red. There was a loud bang and Draco was flipped off his feet backwards, landing on the ground with a loud thud.

Love Is The Darkest Art 14.1

Note: I knew when I started this project I would eventually reach a point where I would need to make edits so the story could flow alongside J K Rowlings original novels and storyline. So here we go with the first. And instead of reposting the chapter with the edits included, i decided to just post the new addition as a seperate post, which is why i call this post an “insert.” To help you with the context i have bookended this new entry with two paragraphs from my original post to show where this insert falls in place. These bookends are marked with parentheses to set it apart. Anyway, blah, blah, blah, lol…. I hope you enjoy this piece of dialogue which will tie in to some upcoming events. I’m not sure how this is going to work, but here goes…

Scene 19 insert:

(If she could have seen inside his thoughts, Hermione might have been gripped by an infinite nervousness, an invasion of butterflies that would flutter so madly she’d be unable to stop herself. For in his mind, they were already older, seasoned lovers who knew each other in the most intimate fashion. They ran across fields unashamed of their romance, to climb a far away hill where they’d exchange vows to forever love no matter what would come. His kiss, loving and tender upon her soft lips, almost seemed to be a vow unto itself.)

“I could get used to this,” Draco finally said, looking into Hermione’s eyes. He traced his fingers across her moist just kissed lips.

“What? You on top of me?” she asked.

“Well, yes, this is nice. But no, I meant just being with you, no one around, being able to let my heart fly free next to yours.”

“I have a hard time seeing you as a poet.. ”

He cleared his throat.

“I think that I shall never see,
A poem as lovely as Hermione ..”

She giggled. “That’s not the way the poem goes…”

Thinking of the Joyce Kilmer poem he just bastardized, Draco smirked playfully. “I never was one much for finding beauty in trees. You’re all the beautiful I see.”

She kissed him lightly on the nose, then the lips. “You amaze me these days,” she said. “You know it wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to everyone. Not just me.”

“You want me to flirt with everybody? That’s awkward.”

“No, silly. Just be kind.”

“I’m different when we’re alone.”

“I noticed.”

“Speaking of alone,” he said with some hesitation, “Would you like to spend the weekend with me?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but just bit her lip wondering what he was asking.

“At my family’s estate,” he continued. “My parents will be away for a…meeting. I know we couldn’t stay overnight, but we could apply for day passes and spend the whole morning and afternoon without any intrusion.”

She smiled, but there was a sadness there. Draco saw it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Draco, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

He nodded. “It’s not like you think,” he replied. “Nothing funny. I’ll behave myself. I just want us to have a day together. A whole day without worrying about ..”

“I really can’t,” she interrupted. “I’d love to, but I have other plans.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I am meeting friends. We’re going to a….club meeting.”

“That’s cool. Maybe I could come and afterward…”

“It’s a girls club. No boys. I’m sorry.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “No Harry? No Weasley?”

“Maybe Ginny Weasley. But no Ron,” she lied.

She knew, as several others knew as well, that the meeting was to get Harry to teach them defense against the dark arts in secret. But she couldn’t tell Draco that. He’d really want to come then and no one trusted him to be quiet about anything. No one but Hermione that is. She knew he could keep a secret, but still something within told her, “not this time.” She could trust him enough to kiss, to make out, to even share her heart, and yet there was still a barrier between them that she couldn’t quite tear down. And in that moment Draco realized it.

“Fine. Go to your meeting. I’ll see you when you get back?”

“Of course, Draco. It’s not like…”

“Good,” he interrupted. “I love you Hermione.”

Her eyes went wide in surprise. “What? I…Draco…I…”

His lips pressed against hers and she couldn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure what to answer. A thousand thoughts and dreams went through her head, some wonderful, others broken, and his kiss, hungry and desperate, told her his dreams as well.

Her fantasies, the ones she chose to admit, flitted among his, and they touched and kissed and breathed each others breath as if the weekend visit he’d offered was now being celebrated in these dreamy minutes on the greenhouse floor.

(A door slammed. Both their dreams escaped into the great big emptiness of youthful longings. They lay there still, frozen, waiting for the intrusion. A voice boomed out loudly , “Is anyone here? Professor Sprout?”)

Love Is The Darkest Art 14

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 19:

Across the vegetable patches, something moved. Not quite a shadow. Certainly not a breeze. Still, everything avoided it. Small scavengers dodged its path. Even the smallest insect tried to quicken its pace to escape getting trampled underfoot. The unseen thing pushed its way into the herbology greenhouse and stopped. Then it showed itself. Draco and Hermione stood, having flung the invisibility cloak from themselves.

“That’s not as easy as it seems,” Hermione sighed with a grin.

‘Yeah,” her blond boyfriend agreed. “Too bad the cloak doesn’t repel rocks and tree roots.”

“I can’t believe Snape knew we were there.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. Maybe he was just talking to himself. He does that sometimes.”

“Maybe so, but that was too close regardless.”

“I agree.”

Draco looked around the greenhouse. It didn’t seem like anyone else was there. They both knew there were no classes this period and so this seemed the best place to have privacy. Here they could be away from everyone else. He turned back to Hermione. Reaching for her, he brushed his fingers through her brown hair, reveling over the feel of it in his hands.

“My grades are seriously going to suffer,” he said with a tender, wistful smile.

Hermione closed her eyes. “Mine too,” she replied quietly as if she were falling into the sweetest of dreams. Then her eyes shot open. “Oh Draco, how can we even begin to keep this a secret?”

“We’re doing okay so far.”

“But we’ve almost gotten caught. Several times now.”

He seemed to think it over for a second. Then he smiled like his old self. “We’ll have to distract everybody.”

“How?”

“We’ll just continue to treat each other like we did before all this began.”

“So, what, we call each other names?”

‘Why not? We’ve been doing it for years.”

“But I .I…I can’t do that. I..care about you too much now.”

“Sure you can. Here, let’s practice… Mudblood.”

She gave him a stern look.

“Mudblood,” he insisted.

” Um…Fake-o?”

He laughed. “Good start. But not harsh enough.” He looked at her with that old cruelty in his eyes. “Gryffinwhore.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Oh no, you didn’t just…”

“I did,” he grinned mischievously.

“Slut-therin,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“Her-hiney.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Were you loooking at my…”

‘Her-hiney,” he repeated.

“That’s not even funny.” She sighed. “Okay then….Bleach butt.”

“Bleach butt? Where did that come from?”

Now she laughed, and it almost seemed meanspirited. “Well, you have to bleach your hair like three times a day. Theres no way it can be that color..”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about bad hair, little miss rat’s nest.”

He took a haughty step towards her. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she matched his aggressiveness.

“At least I don’t have to pay my friends to like me,” she said between clenched teeth.

“At least my parents can afford to buy me a comb.”

“At least mine don’t have to buy me at all, daddy’s slave.”

A fire leapt into his eyes and his hand shot out, grabbing her chin between his fingers. Neither said another thing, just letting his heated anger hang in the air. Both their breaths seemed loud and heavy in the silence between them. Then he grinned.

“Good one, Granger,” he said. Still gripping her chin between fingers he leaned close and kissed her lips. She looked straight into his silver grey eyes, fell into the look there, and parted her lips to welcome his warm tongue. He welcomed hers as well, the name calling dissipating into the air like a morning mist.

Removing his hands from her face, Draco lifted Hermione in his arms.He buried his face in her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Kisses falling across her throat, she leaned her head back and stared into the expanse above them. The ceiling of the greenhouse was clear and she could see sky and clouds. She imagined herself floating in a dream as Draco’s kisses lovingly caressed her skin. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, her fingernails digging into his back.

Draco lowered them both to the cold, packed earth of the greenhouse floor. Looking down into her brown eyes, his body hovered over her. He kept himself from laying flat against her body, but in her mind, in that dream, he was atop of her and they lay together high in the clouds where no one could see. She found herself wanting to say something like ‘I want you,’ but she couldn’t bring herself to admit her amorous desire out loud. And neither could he.

If she could have seen inside his thoughts, Hermione might have been gripped by an infinite nervousness, an invasion of butterflies that would flutter so madly she’d be unable to stop herself. For in his mind, they were already older, seasoned lovers who knew each other in the most intimate fashion. They ran across fields unashamed of their romance, to climb a far away hill where they’d exchange vows to forever love no matter what would come. His kiss, loving and tender upon her soft lips, almost seemed to be a vow unto itself.

A door slammed. Both their dreams escaped into the great big emptiness of youthful longings. They lay there still, frozen, waiting for the intrusion. A voice boomed out loudly , “Is anyone here? Professor Sprout?”

Draco, his body now collapsed atop Hermione in a fruitless effort to hide her, knew the voice was fake. There was something off about it, as if someone were trying to disguise the true timbre of their voice. It called again and he thought it sounded irritatingly familiar.

Footsteps started forward, and Draco knew the person was starting down one of the nearby aisles. There was a strange ambience to the steps. First heavy, then a soft echo. It took a moment but he soon realized it wasn’t one person, but two.

Thinking quickly, Draco rolled both he and Hermione under a low table that acted as a plant stand. Now Hermione was atop him, her body pressing down gently against his. The combination of that sensation with the danger of getting caught made her heart leap against Draco’s.

The footsteps drew ever nearer. Draco turned his head to the side to try and see how close they were. Hermione’s lips brushed his ear and he had an intake of breath that let her know how exciting that was. But then, one aisle over, two pairs of feet came into view.

One pair were in black shoes. Standard issue for a schoolboy uniform. Draco could see the bottom hem of his trousers. It was defintely a student. Harry Potter? Ron Weasley? This could turn out badly if they spied Hermione atop him with her tongue in his ear.

The second pair of feet came into view nearly colliding with the first. They bore no shoes. Completely barefoot he could see the toenails were each painted a different color. And the colors didn’t follow a pattern, but seemed to be painted at random. It was undoubtedly female feet, but before any question could arise in his head, the two pairs turned toward each other. The barefoot one stood on tip toes and there was a faint whisper of “Kiss me already.”

Draco almost laughed. It was another couple wishing not to be seen. Two more secret lovers exchanging kisses in the big empty greenhouse.

Love Is The Darkest Art 13

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 18:

Swirling magic, spinning in slow circles, a couple spun beneath a cloak of invisibility in the halls of Hogwarts. Students and faculty alike moved among them, oblivious to their presence, the repelling charm keeping everyone from colliding with the hidden two. Under the cloak, Draco looked into Hermione’s brown eyes, upon which tears had formed. His own had grown glassy themselves, for this was their beautiful moment. Able to be together among a crowd of people. Able to be just like everyone else. Draco and Hermione could have the dance neither one of them took at last year’s yule ball. Though that was the moment Draco truly noticed her, he’d known not what to do then. But now it was different. Now they could dance all they wanted, unseen, unnoticed.

Hermione lay her head over on his shoulder, and Draco led them in a slow dance in the hallway. Whenever they drew close to other students, those schoolmates would move away, influenced by the repelling charm placed on the cloak. For the two young lovers it was as if the world were their dance floor and they were the only ones on it.

With one hand on her waist and the other holding the invisibility cloak in place, Draco swayed with Hermione as if there were a song only they could hear. And indeed there was. He sang it low in his breath against her ear.

“Touch me with your eyes
Hold me in your heart
Kiss me lightly on the lips
Love is the darkest art…”

She’d never heard the tune before, and she suspected he’d just made it up. But that was even better. It was the most beautiful song she’d ever heard, and it was all hers. Meant for no other ear save her own. He repeated the words in a slow rhythm that matched the swaying of their hips. Their bodies brushed against the other and both their breaths caught in their throat as if electricity passed softly through their veins instead of blood. In that moment she lifted her head from his shoulder and nuzzled her lips against his neck.

Draco responded with a kiss against her flushed cheek. Then he whispered, “I believe we are closer than eight inches.”

They had managed to drift in their dance to the side of the hall where a large poster had been placed announcing the latest Educational Decree that no students were allowed to be closer than eight inches to each other.

“I want to be closer,” he added softly.

She smiled nervously. “Then why don’t you?”

He lowered his eyes, afraid to look in hers at that moment. He touched her face with his fingertips and closed his eyes.

“You are so beautiful, Hermione. Why did it take me so long to notice?” He sighed and then opened his eyes once more. “I look at you and I want…”

“Want what?” she breathed, when he hesitated.

“I want this. To last forever.” His fingers traced a heart upon her cheek. “When I look at you, I see my heart, everything that I want it to be, reflected in your face.” His finger drew a line down to the side of her neck. “I am so scared I can never be all that you desire.”

“You already are,” she replied softly tilting her head so that her neck was bared to him. His lips grazed her skin, his fingertips still drawing make believe lines on the flesh of her neck. His kiss found her throat and a tingling sensation cascaded down her body, as his fingers followed it to her collar.

She found herself lost in his touch, and she couldn’t help what came next, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and disappearing inside, feeling his bare chest against the palm of her hand. He trembled slightly and she liked the effect she had on him. Her fingertips drew her name against his chest in time to the rise and fall of his breathing. Butterflies seemed to make a nest in her stomach as Draco put his hand upon the top button of her uniform. Then he stopped. Someone was standing right in front of them.

Hermione nearly let out a gasp. Draco put a hand over her mouth to silence her. The person, a tall imposing adult, was standing mere inches away, seeming to look right at them but not saying a thing. The man wore all black, his robe nearly touching the floor. His long black hair hung straight against the sides of his pale cheeks and the scowl on his face seemed permanent.

No one said a word at first, seconds passing like a sped up stopwatch, a countdown to being reprimanded severely, as was this Professor’s way. Severus Snape muttered, “eight…inches,” pronouncing each word slow and precise. “How…engaging.”

At first, they thought he was talking to them, but Draco quickly realized he was not looking at them at all, but at the spot beyond them. The educational decree on the wall. He couldn’t see them in their invisibility cloak, but still they held their breaths, until Snape turned.

“What will she think of next?” Snape muttered to himself. “Under Secretary git.”
Then he turned back to eye the poster once more. “Intelligent students need to be careful here on out.” Then with a sweeping flourish of his dark robes, he spun on a booted heel and proceeded down the corridor.

Hermione let out a bated breath and whispered, “Was he talking to us?”

“I…don’t…know,” Draco replied, watching Professor Snape until he disappeared around a corner. He turned to look at Hermione. “He couldn’t have seen us. But it seemed as if he knew we were here.”

“Maybe he could detect our presence, but didn’t know who it was.”

Draco shook his head. “Oh, he knew.”

“How do you know that?”

Draco looked at her with a smirk on his lips. “He said intelligent students, didn’t he?”

Scene 19:

Severus Snape descended the stairs down into the lowest levels of Hogwarts. The dungeon depths housed the potion master’s class, but this hour there were no lessons, nor students. Only silence, candlelight, and the occasional stirring of a rat or caged raven. He sat down behind his desk and pulled a sheaf of parchment from the top drawer. He set it on the desk and produced his quill, dipping it in a blotter off gray ink.

“Old friend,” he wrote. “In regards to the matter you discussed with me late yesterday evening, I have looked into the alleged events and can say with a good deal of confidence that they never occured in the way it was presented to you. I have seen no evidence of collusion with the said individual. In fact, they both appear as they always have: with a disdain for the other’s achievements and attitudes. Furthermore new educational decrees from the ministry are in place to assure the focus of all students are on their studies and not each other. However, I will continue to monitor your son’s behavior and intervene as you’ve requested if I should see him acting in a manner that would bring embarrassment to the house of Malfoy.”

He set the quill down on the desktop. Producing his wand from inside his cloak, he uttered a few words under his breath and passed it over the letter. The words sank deeper into the parchment, fading against it until they disappeared.

He rolled up the letter and sealed it with candle wax. There was no reason to push his ring signet into the wax, as he didn’t sign the missive anyway. He scooted his chair back and stood. He looked up at the ceiling. Somewhere floors above him, Draco Malfoy was following in his footsteps. He shook his head.

“Why is it always a mudblood?” he muttered to the dank dungeon’s emptiness.