Category Archives: Dramione

Love Is The Darkest Art 31

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 51:

Hermione stood still, frozen in the most pleasant of ways. She knew it had been Draco. Not only was it his familiar touch in her hair, but for a second she heard his breath exhaled in a long sigh. It was born of a certain wistfulness she too felt everytime she was in his presence. She wanted badly for him to materialize in front of her and take her in his arms as if everything over the past several days were forgotten. But she knew he couldn’t just throw off his invisibility cloak and expose himself. They had been warned. They couldn’t be seen together. The death eater had made that clear. If they didnt heed the message there would be steep consequences. And so all she could was stand there and let the invisible Draco breathe on her neck, “I’m sorry.”

She turned to Ron and Harry. Tears were welling up in her eyes. “I have to go. I don’t feel well.”

Ron frowned. It seemed like they never got to hang out with Hermione much anymore. “Again? Weren’t you sick the other…”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to go lay down.”

“Whatever,”Ron mumbled. If Hermione heard him she made no indication. Instead, she turned and began to walk away. Then she stopped and looked at Harry.

“I think you should kiss her. I know she was Cedric’s girl, but no one needs to feel that lost or alone. And Cho is very pretty.”

Harry looked almost irritated that everyone was trying to push him to that conclusion. “Ok, enough already,” he said. “I’ll get around to it. If you are obsessing about kissing so much, maybe you need to visit Viktor this Christmas.”

For the first time that day it seemed, she smiled. Not at the thought of Viktor Krum, but at the realization her secret affections for Draco were still safe. Neither Harry or Ron knew, and she wanted to keep it that way. They would never, under any circumstances, understand her burgeoning love for the enemy. “Maybe I’ll do that then,” she replied, leaving them with two notions: one being that she too sick to be up and about this evening, and two being she was still all about the Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker and national hero.

As she walked away from them, she heard a low whisper in her ear, “Krum? Whatever happened with Ron? Just how many boyfriends do you have?”

“Shut up,”she hissed back to the disembodied voice. Draco, under his cloak, snickered. Harry and Ron, who heard her last words, looked at each other.

“I didn’t say anything,” whined Ron. “You would think with all the teachers here at Hogwarts, someone could explain girls to us.”

Harry smirked. “Tell me about it.”

Scene 52:

Out in the corridor, Hermione tried to put distance between herself and The Great Hall. She didn’t know where she was going, even more so once Draco whispered, “See you soon,” and apparently left her. She could no longer catch his scent, feel his breath, or otherwise detect his presence. She was getting tired of him just abandoning her whenever he felt like it. One minute he is there with his sweet words and the next he’s gone. Irritating. What kind of boyfriend does that? And then, this thing with her kissing Ron. One minute he is so angry he won’t talk to her, and the next he is flirting like nothing ever happened. Does he just like confusing her? Making her feel good one day and then hurt the next? When he finally shows himself, she thought, I’m going to let him have it.

She rounded the corner, not really paying attention to anything other than the thoughts in her head, and almost toppled over Filius Flitwick. The Charms Master and Head of Ravenclaw. “Oh! Professor, I’m so sorry…”

The diminutive teacher smiled graciously, as if people nearly toppling over him was a regular thing. “‘Tis alright, my dear. It is fortunate as it is you , Miss Granger, that I was seeking.”

“Oh really? Did I not complete my last assignment?”

He chuckled. “Why yes, dear. You are always timely with your work.” He paused. “Wish I could say that about all my students. But no, I wanted to speak to you, as somoeone has suggested to me that you appear to be under a charm.”

“A charm? No, I’m…..who suggested that?”

“I’m not at liberty to say exactly, but they are students in your house…um, possibly in your room?”

That definitely narrowed it down. At first she thought Harry or Ron, but no boys were in her room. In fact, none were even allowed with in the girl’s dorm. So it had to be one of her female friends. Before she could dwell on it much, Flitwick spoke again.

“So I was wondering if you would allow me to examine you to see if in fact someone placed a charm on you. It will only take a minute. Even in my opinion, you do seem a bit distracted in class.”

At first, Hermione was upset at this notion, this intrusion on her character. But she realized if she refused that would draw even more suspicion. And what if someone really had charmed her without her knowledge? A charm could be anything. It could be to track her movements. To modify her behavior or affect her emotions. What if someone made her fall for Draco, and that her feelings truly weren’t her own? She hated this thought. In fact, she flat out denied it. I’m crazy about Draco. I’m in love with him. It is real. I know it is. “Of course, Professor. Go ahead.”

Flitwick produced his wand and touched it her forehead. She had to stoop a little to make this happen, but he seemed unfazed. Instead, his gaze was intent on the examination. He nodded his head, shook it back and forth, nodded again, and then removed the wand, stashing it back into his cloak. He looked up at her, but didn’t say a word for a few minutes.


“Um…well Miss Granger. Uh, you do appear charmed, but it is clearly of the natural variety. In other words, no wizard, or even student, has altered you through magical means.” He hesitated a minute when she sighed in relief. “However, if I may suggest, I would practice defense against charms if I were you. My exam has determined you would be susceptible to such magic.”

“Thank you, Professor. I will do that. And I’ll be more attentive in class from now on.”

“You are an excellent student, Granger. Top level. Do not lose your desire for knowledge.”

Flitwick moved on down the hall, leaving her to ponder his last statement. Knowledge. Desire. Lately, it seemed they were two different things, and perhaps once knowledge had filled all her waking thoughts, now her mind was dominated with thoughts of desire. For Draco.

Suddenly, a loud creaking sound split the silence in the hallway. She looked ahead of her and saw the door to the astronomy tower slowly opening on its hinges. Like an invitation, it called to her. Come. Come, let me show you the stars. Without fear or hesitation, she stepped forward and entered the darkness.

A winding staircase ascended the inside of the tower. Normally the astronomy tower was off limits except during classes, she found herself curious about what or whom had lured her here. She put her foot on the first step of the stairs and stopped. She could feel it. The very air around her changing. There was a quiet sound behind her like that of robes swishing towards her across the floor. Her breath caught in her throat, just as she felt something brush her skin on the next. It was like long fingers tracing a nail to her throat, then her chin. Butterflies seemed to hatch in her stomach as the nail touched her bottom lip. Then she was enveloped within the familiar cloak. She’d been under it before, dancing and kissing in the hallway, surrounded by students who couldn’t see her. And just as before, she knew even before his lips touched her ear and whispered, “I have missed you,” that she was home. At last. In Draco’s arms.

Love Is The Darkest Art 30

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 49:

Draco Malfoy awoke as if coming out of a long, deep sleep. His grey eyes fluttered open to be looking into the face of a girl with long blonde hair and eyes that seemed nearly haunted as his own. “Daphne? Daphne Greengrass?”

The girl smirked. Another fifth year Slytherin, Daphne was friends with Pansy Parkinson, one of her pureblood girl gang. “Welcome back, Draco. Boy, do you have some explaining to do?”

Shaking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked around the Slytherin common room. Luckily for him, no one else was there except for he, Daphne, and another girl several years younger than them both. “How did I get here?”

“We carried you,” Daphne explained. “Fortunate for us you are much lighter than some of your friends.”

“And we levitated you part of the way,” the other girl added. Draco couldn’t recall if he’d met her before. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and was wearing Slytherin colors.

“Do I know you?”

“This is my sister Astoria,” Daphne explained. “She’s third year. We found you in the floor of the library. In the dark.”

“With a girl on top of you,” Astoria added with a snide tone to her voice. If she were someone he knew, say like Pansy Parkinson, the tone would have been considered jealousy.

“Hermione Granger,” Daphne snickered. “Now that’s embarassing.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “We rolled her off you and left her there.”

“She made a thud,” Astoria said matter-of-factly.

“Was she…alive?”

“Of course she was. Did you think you killed her?”

“No, no. We were attacked. She was in the library. And um, so was I.”

They both looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Not together or anything.”

“Oh,” replied Daphne. “Good. For a moment we thought…”

“No, no, no,” Draco grunted, holding his head. He glanced around the room. “Where is everyone?”

“In the great hall. Umbridge called a meeting of students.”

He frowned. “What for?”

“I heard it was something about banning student gatherings. You know like clubs and stuff like that. We were on the way there when Astoria remembered a book she wanted to check out. Good thing for you. If anyone else would have seen you, they would have thought the wrong thing. But I know there’s no way you would have been hanging out with Granger.”

“No way,” echoed Astoria. “She’s poop.”

Draco laughed. Anything less and it would truly look suspicious. “Yeah, and that hair…”

The sisters laughed at this too, but then a look of concern crossed Daphne’s face. “Who attacked you?”

“I don’t know,” He lied. “I was too busy trying to aggravate the mudblood. Got me from behind with a sleep charm or something.”

“Should we report it?”

“No, I’m going to get this one. No one charms a Malfoy.”

“Except Granger,” Astoria giggled, to which Draco shot her a baleful look.

God, how I hate this girl, he thought. Good thing that about the time I graduate she’ll still be stuck in school and I won’t have to look at her nauseating face every day.

“Funny, ha-ha,” he replied sarcastically, dismissing her. Then he looked at Daphne. “Have you reported that you found me?”

“No,” she said. “Whatever happened is secret and safe with me. With us. We havent seen you. Hope that helps you catch the guy.”

“Yes, helps a lot. Thanks.” He slowly got to his feet, his head still spinning. “Well, we better get to that meeting, shouldn’t we?”

Scene 50:

Hermione sat in the great hall, listening to Dolores Umbridge issuing her amended educational decrees. Her head was still groggy, but she wondered what all this would mean for the future of Dumbledore’s army. Umbridge screwed up everything so much, she wondered if she were in the employ of Voldemort, that perhaps she was the dark lord’s way into the school. He had tried other ways before. Was this just another way to get to Harry and all those on the side of peace and good? And what was with all the attacks on her her lately? I’m no one important, she thought. Not like Harry anyway. Was she just another pawn in this escalating war? A means to get to Potter, or perhaps something not quite as sinister. What had Draco said in the library? Something about Lucius being the one who sent the death eater? How would he have known that anyway? She looked around the room at the various pockets of Slytherins. Draco wasn’t here. Where had he fled to? He just left her laying there in the library to wake up alone. Whatever happened to I’ll protect you forever?

“Well that was pretty redundant,” Ron Weasley whispered next to her as Umbridge dismissed the assembly a few minutes later. “She’d already banned the clubs. Which is why we started…”

“Hush Ron,” Hermione quickly said. “We’re in public. The only thing started is your mouth.”

“Whoa, hey, what did i do? Jeez, Granger…”

“I’m sorry Ron. I’m a little on edge here.”

“Why,” asked Harry, who had been seated beside Ron.

“I dont know,” she replied. “I feel like something big is going to happen.”

“Yeah it will,” Ron replied with a smirk. “If only Harry here works up the nerve to kiss Cho before he turns forty.”

“Shut up, Ron,” Harry muttered.

Hermione looked at Harry and smiled. “Well, I think you should. The opportunity for a good long kiss is a terrible thing to waste.”

Now both boys looked at her, mouths open enough to let houseflies in.

“I mean, that’s what I’ve heard,” she quickly added.

She didn’t see if they ever closed their slack jaws, because at the moment she saw Draco close to the entrance of the hall. With two girls. One had hair almost the same color as Draco’s. She could almost have been his sister. Or soulmate. The other girl was younger with jet black hair, and even from this distance Hermione could see her doe eyed look turned upward to Malfoy. She knew who these girls were of course. They were the Greengrass sisters. Purebloods of famed ancestry. Their family was nearly as self important as the Malfoys. Hermione scowled. Draco had given her a fit for cheek kissing Ron, and here he was just an hour or two after she had fought for her life, cozying up to two bitches….

“Hey Hermione, you okay?”

She swirled to the voice. It was Ron Weasley. For a moment she had a mad, fleeting thought of kissing him on the mouth. No, she told herself. I’ll never do that. No matter how angry or happy I am.

“Yes I’m fine,” she said. She looked away from him and back towards where Draco and his floozies had been. Except Draco wasn’t there anymore. The Greengrass girls looked bewildered too, trying to figure out where he’d gone. She began to look around the room, standing on tiptoe to look over heads taller than she.

“Who you looking for?”

At first she thought it was Potter. But in her heart, as upset as she was, she knew it was Draco, breezing by her in his invisibility cloak, running his long fingers through her hair.

Love Is The Darkest Art 29

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 47:

“Damn, that had to hurt,” a voice said from behind her in the darkness. Hermione spun, already taking aim with her wand when she realized it was Draco. “Looks like I’m a little late to this party,” he added. He shook his head. “Good thing, too.”

She wanted to fling herself in his arms, but she held her ground, waiting to see what his move was going to be. And then the thought came to her. He hadn’t spoken to her in awhile because of the Ron thing, and now suddenly when she’s under attack, he shows up. Why exactly is that, the suspicious side of her wondered. “What brings you here, Malfoy? Here to lend your friend a hand in paying me back?”

She didn’t mean to sound so angry, but in essence she was. Draco had given her hell for pecking Ron on the cheek. He had gotten her boys in trouble, abandoned her, and hadn’t given a care whether she had cried over him constantly since.

“Oh come on, Hermione. You actually think I would attack you, or help someone else to do it? It ticks me off you kissed Ron, but….hey, where’d he go?”

Hermione looked at where her assailant lay on the floor. Except he was no longer there. “Oh no,” she said. “He’s getting away. We have to tell…”

Draco drew his wand and pointed it high in the darkened room. For a moment Hermione thought he was going to put a spell on the ceiling, or more likely restore the lights. Instead he mumbled an incantation that didn’t even sound familiar to her. Where did he learn that, she thought, though she wasn’t even sure what “that” even was. Sparks flew across the top of the ceiling, scattering in all directions. Draco grinned. “There. Let’s see him get through that,” Draco gloated.

Her anger momentarily forgotten, she couldn’t help her curiosity, though she certainly wasn’t ready to forgive him. “What is it?” she asked.

“It seals off all entrances and exits in the room. He can’t get out.”

Suddenly there was a furious sound, like that of a gathering wind, from the front of the library. “Well crap,” Draco muttered. “I think he knows that one. I guess that tells us who sent the eater this time.”


He looked at her with a sorrow in his eyes. “My dad.” And with that declaration, he took off down the aisle towards the entrance.

“Your dad? Draco, wait!”

Hermione took off after him, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. She tried to think of a charm that would help either herself or Draco defeat an experienced death eater. Sure, she had fought back and stopped his attack mere seconds ago, but then she’d had the element of suprise. Now, the villian would be ready.

It was still dark in the room, and she lost sight of Draco within moments. But she could hear the enchanted wind ahead as it built up in its fury. She ran down the aisle and came out in the library atrium to find Draco confronting the death eater. At first it seemed Malfoy had the best of him, holding him nearly immoble with a conjured lasso at least six inches thick. But then the wind threw Draco aside, and the Slytherin crashed on top of a table that cracked beneath him.

“No!” Hermione screamed, and then looked up. The sparks that Draco had sent across the ceiling to trap the death eater in the room were fading. Twinkling out as if the hands of an invisible giant was snuffing out each one like candle. And with that came the same effect on Draco. Pinned to the table top as if a giant foot was crushing him there, Draco coughed and thrashed, the diminishing sparks reflecting in his terrified eyes.

She drew her wand, but the death eater disarmed her easily. She had been right. Now he was prepared. And this time as her wand skidded across the floor, he didn’t grab her from behind. Instead he pointed his own wand, his face distorted in anger. His hand shook as if he were having trouble containing his fury.

“Stupid little girl,” he hissed. He glanced at Draco who now seemed barely conscious. “And little boy.” Another wand materialized in his other hand. “If you were anyone else, you both would be food for the Dark Lord. But as it is, my instructions are simply to deliver a message.”

Draco groaned and tried to sit up.

“Do not move, young Malfoy. Just because you are who you are doesn’t mean I’m forbidden to hurt you.” A quick glare at Hermione. “I am not forbidden to hurt you however. What is forbidden is this. Your little secret rendezvous days are over.”

“You..” Draco started to say, before a flash erupted from the tip of the Death Eater’s wand and sent him into fits of writhing discomfort and pain.

“Shut up and listen, for I will not repeat myself. You have already been told once by those who rule over you. Don’t make them turn to more drastic measures for you to heed their instruction. You will cease from your little trysts with this mudblood.” He looked at Hermione. “And you, little firecat, when you see Draco coming, you best just go the other way. You are not friends. you are not…” He snickered. “Lovers.” With a threatening jab of his wand at Hermione he added, “You are not anything.”

In a quick movement, Draco rolled off the table and attempted to get up. A shower of flame shot from the Death Eater’s wand and his body contorted and twisted, as if an unseen puppeteer were jerking his limbs one way and the other. Draco screamed.

“If I am sent to deal with either of you again, the visit will be fatal. Your instructions are simple. Stay away from each other. Hate each other again as you once did. Anything else is forbidden and will end painfully for both of you if you persist.”

He released Draco from his mad fits and the Slytherin boy collapsed on the ground, still and unmoving. The man turned to take in Hermione with his intense, darkened eyes. “Remember, I can read your thoughts when I am near.” He took a step towards her and she backed away. He kept coming. It was obvious he loved the fear. “There is no way out of this, Miss Granger. You either obey…or you face worse consequences than watching Draco…sleep.”

He directed a wand at Malfoy and there was a quiet hiss that passed from the tip to Draco’s lips. A look of quiet peace passed across the boy’s face. “He truly cant save you now.” He licked his lips. “Another time and I would show you the rewards for those who serve the right side. But as it is, everyone knows you will not change. And so here we are just watching Draco sleep. Sweet dreams.” And with that, he jabbed the wand. It hissed and within seconds she eased to the floor unconscious. The last thing she saw before succumbing to the spell was Draco’s still form, and for a second she wanted to try and crawl to him as they do in the movies when lovers wish to die together.

Scene 48:

Hermione came to with the sensation of someone shaking her. Fighting the grogginess, she opened her eyes to the sight of Cho Chang kneeling over her. The pretty Asian student had a look of fear and worry in her eyes.

“Hermione, please wake up, please,” she was pleading. Another shake helped dislodge the dreary after effects of the spell.

She sat up. “Oh my God,” she muttered, holding her head. She looked around the room, her gaze now becoming desperate. “Where is…” she began, but stopped herself. No one could know she and Draco had been in the library together.

Luckily, Cho didn’t catch it. But the Patil sisters did. They were both standing behind Cho and looking on the scene with horror. “Someone attacked you,” they simultaneously asked.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, with a dizzying nod of her head. “I think it was a Death Eater.”

The three girls looked on her with shock. “A Death Eater?” Cho helped Hermione to her feet. “We have to tell someone.”

Granger shook her head quickly enough. “No,” she said.

“Why not?”

“It will endanger too many people,” she lied. She knew the only ones threatened were she and Draco. Death Eaters would never dream of attacking the whole school. But where was Draco now? Did the Death Eater take him? Or had Malfoy awakened and taken the first step of carrying out the villain’s instructions that he abandon her?
Oh Draco, she thought. Please dont leave me.

Love Is The Darkest Art 28

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 45:

Draco Malfoy passed the dark man on his way to Umbridge’s office. He was already nervous over what he wanted to ask of her. Seeing the tall stranger just made it worse. It was quite obvious he was a death eater. He could see an edge of the identifying tattoo on his forearm, and when he spared a brief look towards Draco, there was a knowing sneer, as if he were gloating over something. Malfoy turned and watched him go around a corner, thinking that despite the changes at Hogwarts, death eaters shouldn’t be here. Your dad is a death eater, a little voice inside his head said. Exactly, Draco replied, before shrugging it off and continuing on his way to see Umbridge.

“You want me to what???” Dolores wasn’t just suprised, she was also offended. And angry.

Draco swallowed hard. “Yes Mrs. Umbridge. Kicking them off the team was awesome punishment, and a stroke of your genius, but if they could have their brooms back, at least they could…”

“Do I need to punish you too? Just whose side are you on? Is your loyalty in question?”

“No mam. I am on the ministry’s…I mean your side.”

She looked at him hard. “I don’t know why you are behaving differently, and more dissapointing I might add, but perhaps you just have too much time on your hands. Maybe you need an extra task or two.”

“Whatever you need me to do,” he replied, hoping at least it would be something to make others fear his position as prefect and Umbridge’s enforcer. He might have changed feelings and attitudes here lately, but inside he was still Draco Malfoy. Troublemaker.

Suddenly the woman’s face lit up, as she turned a note over and over in her hand. “I have just the thing,” she nearly cackled, thinking she could damage two little dragons in one fell swoop. She smiled at Draco. “Go to the library and fetch me this book.” She took the note, folded it, and handed it to him. “Now excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Umbridge.” Draco got up to leave, but she stopped him with a wave of her finger. “I may consider the brooms. Well maybe not Potters. But the others.”

“Thank you. I think Weasley could benefit from having his returned. He’s a terrible player.”

Out in the hall, he thought it could have went worse. Maybe she’d return Ron his broom and help Draco get back in Granger’s good graces. Perhaps he could salvage this after all. Now, what stupid book could the old biddy want?

Draco unfolded the note she had handed him. He noticed right away it wasn’t Umbridge’s writing. It was his father’s. On it were written two words: Hermione Granger.

“Oh no,” he cried, and took off down the hall, thinking of the dark man he had passed earlier. Thats why a death eater was here. For Hermione. Draco wished it were possible to disapparate within the school, but the builders of Hogwarts had chosen to make this one of the spells you couldn’t do inside the halls of education. Instead, he had to rely on speed and hope that he wasn’t too late.

Scene 46:

Hermione was still sitting on the floor in the library, her back against the bookshelf. Luna had left, and now she was alone with her thoghts. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to work it out in her head, how to get Draco to understand the kiss she’d planted on Ron’s cheek meant nothing. Suddenly there was the sound of a door slamming and her eyes shot open. She was in darkness now. Someone had flipped off the lights. Before she could rise to her feet, she heard a clacking sound as if someone were walking in the library with metal tipped shoes. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She withdrew her wand and stood stock still. Whomever it was, she didn’t want them to hear her moving. Something told her this was not right. Someone wanted her at a disadvantage in the darkness. Either that, or they just wanted to scare her. Regardless, it was working. She was frightened. For a moment, she entertained the notion of lighting the room with her wand, but she thought better of it.

The tap, tap, tap continued. Hermione was pretty astute at determing sounds, and so she knew the shoe was a boot worn by someone with a heavy step. Someone who was not a student. The stride between steps signified the stalker was tall, perhaps six foot or more. Could it be Snape? He was tall and older. But why would he be lurking in the library in the dark?

Another rhythmic sound came to her. Snap. Snap. Snap. Someone was snapping their fingers. It sounded in sync with the tap of the boots. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Who’s there?”

Her voice caused the boots to stop, but the finger snapping continued. Rhythmic, sharp, nearly echoing off the rows and rows of books. Oh no, they are in one of the aisles. And then she felt it, a chill through her hair on the back of her neck. That’s why the snapping sounded so sharp. It was right behind her.

She spun, bringing her wand up, but a hand grasped her wrist, squeezing it so hard she dropped her weapon. Now there was no tap, tap, tap. Nor a snap, snap, snap. No, there was a towering man in black before her, his long coat nearly dragging the floor. His eyes were malevolent in the darkness as he held her wrist in his vice like grip. Before she could scream, he covered her mouth with his other hand.

“Hermione Granger,” he hissed, and it sounded almost like question, as if he wasnt sure who she was. She shook her head urgently, and he laughed low in his throat. “Of course you are.” He drew a long fingernail across her brow. “I can hear you in there. All your thoughts, fears, desires.” He chuckled. “I wish someone would save me,” he mimicked in a high girly voice. “Oh Draco my love, where are you?”

Hermione struggled against him, but he only held her tighter. His hand over her mouth kept any scream from being heard. He had read her thoughts as if she were an open book. She hated the intrusion. What kind of defense could you have against this kind of enemy?

“None,” he whispered, hearing it all as if she’d spoken it aloud. “You are a weak, defenseless little child next me. I love that.” A snicker. “It’s funny how your mind goes in hundreds of directions when you are scared. Always expecting, no, always needing someone to intervene and rescue you. So weak is a girl’s will. What would you do without boys?”

A laugh. A snort, then his high girly imitation again. “Oh Draco, I need a man because I’m too worthless to take up for myself.” He leaned close and whispered, “Perhaps you should think like a man. Go for the sex right off the bat to distract your opponent. Use your body as the weapon.”

It was almost sickening. He ws nearly drooling in her ear. Not only was he the enemy, but a freaking pervert to boot. One hand slid dangerously close to her breast. “Come on darling, let me have a squeeze.”

Hermione closed her eyes in a long sigh of seeming surrender. “Okay,” she breathed, and her voice sounded inviting with the promise of…

A scream. Long and anguished, like a beast caught in a trap. Yet it wasn’t hers. She was silent, teeth gritted in determination, her hand squeezing his manhood through his clothes, so hard that it was as if a steel trap had snapped on his lower parts and locked. Hermione twisted her wrist, wrenching him forward in anguish, then slammed her head backwards into his face. There was a crack, but she wasnt sure if it was his nose breaking, or teeth being dislodged from his mouth. All she knew is he was letting go of her.

She dropped to the floor, rolled, and retrieved her wand. “Girls aren’t weak,” she said, as the tip of her wand exploded a shower of sparks towards the man. Any other time and the death eater may have been prepared, but he had underestimated his prey. He’d thought her weak. Defenseless. A girl who would cry in the face of fear. Wrong on all counts. She was Hermione Granger, and she had just hit him with a defensive spell she’d learned last week in lessons with Dumbledore’s army. He dropped like a sack of wet sand and was still.

Love Is The Darkest Art 27 v.2

Paul’s note: Had to re-upload this from yesterday. For some reason, stats and comments weren’t working. But hey, if you read this yesterday, there’s nothing new added to this one, but I sure would like your like again 😉

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 42:

Hagrid returned to school, and with him came the snow. With the snow came bitter winds, signaling Christmas was on its way. Hermione had been waiting for the holidays so she could buy Draco a present to show her undying affection, but their last fight seemed to have changed all that. They’d had disagreements before, as all couples do, but until now it had only affected them. This time though, friends had been caught in the middle. Not only had Harry, Fred, and George been kicked off the Quidditch team, they’d had their brooms taken also. She felt so bad about that. They were her friends and because she’d given Ron a good luck cheek kiss, Draco’s jealousy had kicked in full swing and caused her world to fall apart.

It was a few days after Hagrid’s return when Luna found Hermione in the library, crying in the spot where Draco had first kissed her. It seemed like years ago rather than…just how long had it been now? Hermione couldn’t even remember. It was as if once she started to fall in love, all sense of time had ceased. And when she looked up from where she sat in the floor, her back against the towering bookshelf, legs drawn beneath her, time began again.

Luna looked down at her and apologized. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I truly am.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Casting the silencio spell on you. I just wanted you to be quiet before you said too much. I know you want to keep your secret.”

Hermione nodded. “For what it’s worth, thanks. But I don’t think it matters so much anymore. We’re over.”

Luna smirked and shook her head. “Magic has no end. Some spells you just never get over.”

“This one is especially bad.”

“I know. I got it too.” When Hermione looked at her, Luna added, “Not with Draco, of course. He doesn’t really do it for me.”

Granger smiled. “I thought the same thing once. But now…”

“He really does it for you,” Luna finished. “Bad.”

Hermione, realizing she was so close to giving her most secret thoughts a voice, stammered, “Not that bad.”

“Yeah right,” Luna agreed, kneeling in front of her. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell a soul. Even if you forget, I won’t tell.”

Forget? How could she ever forget what she and Draco had been through? The things they’d experienced, the times they’d shared. How could they be lost to memory, save an obliviate spell? Even if she wanted to forget Draco, such a spell would erase far more than that. Professor Gilderoy Lockheart was living proof of that outcome.

“I could never forget,” she said, more to herself than Luna.

“I know I’m not supposed to know, but I can talk to him if you want.”

Hermione shook her head sadly. “No, just leave him alone. It’s obvious that’s what he wants.”

Lovegood shrugged. “It’s your choice. But I don’t care who you are, no one wants to be alone.” She offered a reassuring smile. “He still wants you, you know. Look at you. How could he not? You’re Hermione Granger, Gryffindor dream.”

Coming from anyone else, Hermione would have thought it to be sarcastic, but from Luna it was a genuine statement. And it made Hermione feel better knowing her peers thought she was pretty. Still, what really mattered were not the thoughts of other girls, but the thoughts of her beloved, lost Draco.

Scene 43:

Draco was lost. But not in the way Hermione imagined. No, Draco Malfoy was lost in a dream. Right in the middle of the day. In the Slytherin common room, there was some activity, but not enough to keep him awake. Stuck in a funk he couldn’t get out of (thanks a lot, Hermione), he’d fallen asleep in a cushioned high back chair and slipped off into the world of dreams. For Draco, this was usually a wonderful place, where he picked on those beneath him, or ruled his own island, or was a powerful, and famous, wizard of great importance. But not today. Not here. Instead his dreams were the stuff of nightmares. Death Eaters chased him through his own house, yelling “traitor!” His mother scowled, preparing to send an owl to him, carrying not delicious sweets, but curses for forsaking the family for a mudblood. And then, the worse dream terror of all: Hermione in a passionate embrace with Ron, her tongue shoved halfway down his throat, clutching his bare back with beautifully painted fingernails…

“Hey,” a girl’s voice interrupted. At first he thought it was Hermione within dream, but when the voice spoke again, this time a little more loudly, there was no mistaking the irritating tone of Pansy Parkinson.

His eyes fluttered open, and sure enough, her face was looking down into his. Pansy Parkinson smiled, as if to be this close to him was her every dream. “You have an owl,” she breathed softly, as if what she was really saying had something to do with lust, rather than messages from home.

“No,” Draco said, leading her to wonder if he meant her thoughts or the news. He got up from the chair and brushed past to her where the Malfoy family owl awaited, a tiny rolled parchment attached to its back. He didn’t greet the creature, but removed the scroll and began to unroll it, noticing his father’s perfectly coiled script right away.

Before reading it, he glanced around the room. Nearly every Slytherin was watching. Even his peers knew he rarely got owls from home. He scowled and retreated to his room to read the message, thankful that it wasn’t a howler.

“Draco,” the missive demanded, “as per our previous discussion I thought it was made clear that you would stay away from Mudbloods, in particular one of the female persuasion whose name I will not bother to put in print for the distaste it leaves in my mouth. It has come to my attention that despite your mother’s request, as well as mine, you have continued to be seen in the girl’s company, sometimes in an attempt to do so in secret. Nothing is secret, boy.”

Draco stopped reading for a moment, suddenly aware that his father or his agents may have been spying on him, cataloguing moments that Draco believed had been hidden from prying eyes. Had his father known of the moments shared within the Malfoy mansion, as well as without? He returned to the letter, fearing it’s outcome.

“I will not let a girl, let alone a mudblood, destroy our house or bring our name to ruin. And that’s what will happen if we alow this to continue. She will tear this house in two. She is not a friend, girlfriend, or whatever. Remember she is not pureblood, and as such, she is on the side of the enemy.
Because you have refused to believe this and have repeatedly disobeyed direct orders, it pains me to have to punish you this forcibly, but if YOU will not remove her from your presence, then I will find someone who will.”

Draco thought on this a moment, trying to figure out what this meant. His father’s threat was there and Draco knew he meant what he said. But what did the threat imply? Remove her from my presence? That could mean a great number of things, none of which would be good for Hermione. Draco pulled his wand, uttered words under his breath and watched the message light afire. It burned up in his hand, its edges crumpling inward until it was just ashes in his palm. He rose to his feet, tall and resolute. No one was taking Hermione from him.

He walked back into the main room of Slytherin. Once again, all eyes were upon him. Crabbe and Goyle stood up. The pair seemed to be ready to offer support in whatever news his Owl had delivered. But they couldn’t help in this, thought Draco. “Sit down,” he told them. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He passed by Pansy Parkinson, and lay a hand on her shoulder. “Thank You,” he said, and before she could ask a bewildered question, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed, and he laughed a little under his breath. Hermione was right. It didn’t mean nothing. He didn’t feel a thing for Pansy, just as she didn’t feel a thing for Ron. He had made a mistake, several in fact. And now he was going to fix them. Hopefully before his father found out the real truth that all the spies in the world couldn’t tell him. He was helplessly in love with the enemy.

Scene 44:

The man stood in front of Umbridge’s desk, silent and somehat menacing. Dolores had nothing to fear from any of Hogwart’s students, but this visitor wasn’t a child. He was a messenger. A death eater. And as she read the note he handed her, she didnt know whether to smile or be fearful. Finally she looked up into the man’s cool eyes and said in a grim tone, “You have fifteen minutes.”

The man nodded, his face almost blank, as if he were no longer there, but seeking out his prey in his mind.

Love Is The Darkest Art 25

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 37:

“Why are you looking at Malfoy?” Ron asked. They were sitting at dinner in the Great Hall, and Hermione nearly choked on her food.

“I’m not,” she replied. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he came down to eat. She’d seen some Slytherins, but he hadn’t been amongst them.

“I don’t mean now. Today at practice.”

Hermione looked at Ron, a look of surprise on her face. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you. Eyes glued to binoculars and watching his every move.” He looked over at Harry, who was smirking in between bites.

“Well, um…I was spying. Trying to see how good their team was. Looking for flaws you guys could exploit.”

“Oh,” said Ron, deflated just a little. But he still wasn’t convinced. He flipped his hand through his ginger hair. “So what did you find out?”

Hermione wasn’t expecting a follow up question, and she stuttered for a moment. “Well, Bletchly is a fairly decent keeper this year, but he seems to hang…um…left a lot. Crabbe and Goyle are ruthless beaters. They’ll probably try to cheat if they can.”

She looked at the boys. Ron looked stunned and was rendered silent. Harry was biting his lip, but soon nodded. “What about Draco?”

“He seems distracted,” she responded quickly.

“Probably because he saw you ogling him more than Pansy Parkinson does,” Ron mumbled.

“I wasn’t ogling anybody. I was just trying..”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it. Spying for us. Do you think we are that bad of a team?”

“No, Ron, I don’t. You know what, just forget it. I won’t help next time.” She scooted her chair back and stood up. It was almost scaring her how easy it was to act defensive over Draco. She was playing it off a little too well, but she kept running with it. “You know, you seem to be the one obsessed with Malfoy, not me.”

As she stormed off, she heard Ron ask Harry, “Jeez, What did I say?” She smiled to herself. It was fun keeping secrets. Exciting to hide the forbidden.

Scene 38:

Draco had been at dinner, but rather than sit with his usual pals Crabbe and Goyle, he had moved about unseen in his invisibilty cloak. As a prefect this had its advantages in seeing who was breaking rules and who wasn’t. Dolores Umbrudge had given him a quota to meet in how many students he got in trouble, so this allowed him to single out kids he didn’t like for future point reductions at the hands of the Professor.

As he moved down the line of tables, he was careful to avoid other professors as much as posdible. Though he was invisible, the adult teachers seemed to be able to sense his presence at times, and they’d almost sniff the air as if trying to latch on to his scent. But moving among students it was a little different and he couldn’t help but take the opportunity for prsnks and aggravation. He tugged on Pansy’s hair as he passed behibd her, moved Neville Longbottom’s cup to the edge of the table so the clumsy boy would accidentally knock it off. Brushing by Luna, he spun the trio of glittered pinwheels perched upon her head, and he even pinched Goyle in his side so hard the larger boy accused Crabbe of the offense. Draco snickered loudly and almost got caught. But then he saw Hermione Granger and smiled.

He passed by both Harry and Ron with a degree of stealth, though it was tempting to whop both of them upside the head. Especially Ron, who was grilling Hermione about watching someone. Who was Weasley going on about? Then he heard his own name mentioned and realized it was he they were talking about. He grinned even more at this and slunk up behind Granger’s chair. Ron was saying something about binoculars when he leaned close to Hermione’s ear. “I watch you too,” he whispered so quiet only she could hear. He could see her feeeze, her body stiffen slightly. Her friends took it as hesitation in answering Ron’s questions and smirked.

“I watch you so close I can almost taste you,” Draco whispered. Ron had just asked her another question, when Draco’s tongue lightly grazed her ear.

“He seems distracted,” Hermione blurted quickly, in answer to Ron’s question about Draco’s Quidditch skills.

“Oh you have no idea,” Draco said in a hushed voice. Again, this behavior stopped her halfway through her next statement in the conversation, but neither friend realized what was going on right in front of them.

Hermione felt a finger trail against her lower back and knew it was Malfoy’s touch sending chills all over her. She couldn’t take much more of this. She wanted his touch even more. On her face, her neck, down the front of her trembling frame. She suddenly scooted her chair back. It nudged the invisible Draco and he stumbled a second, before grabbing the back of her skirt to steady himself. He took the opportunity for a playful touch across her backside. She did her best to play it off by berating Ron for his questions.

“You seem to be the one obsessed with Draco, not me,” she declared and stormed away from the table. Draco followed her, whispering “liar” playfully in her ear.

Scene 39:

The early evening air was a little chilly, a slight breeze tousling Hermione’s mousy brown locks. She had stepped outside before the night’s curfew could take effect, a practice that no other students took this time of the year without a coat. But Hermione needed to cool off big time. And before she could even register the fact it was cold out, she was wrapped up in Malfoy’s arms.

“You are so mean,” she said, as he removed his invisibility cloak and tucked it safely away inside his clothes. “And bad,” she added.

“I know,” he grinned. “Don’t you just want to eat me up?”

“Draco, you can’t be doing stuff like you did back there. We’ll be found out.”

His grin diappeared. “Aren’t you tired of hiding?”

“Yes, but…”

“Would you be ashamed or embarrassed if everyone knew?”

“No, I….”

“I think if someone saw me holding your hand, or taking you in my arms like this, you would push me away and accuse me of throwing myself on you.” Before she could answer, his lips grazed hers for just a brief moment. She didnt know if he were teasing her or offering a challenge, but she took it.

Her mouth collided with his in a furious, dangerous kiss. Dangerous because she reached around and squeezed his butt with both hands. He smiled within their kiss and returned the gesture.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to scream for help then,” he whispered.

“No,” she sighed, staring into his silvery eyes. “I can help myself, thank you very much.”

“Good for you,” Draco replied with a kiss against the nape of her neck. “Because I can’t help myself.” Another graze of the lips. “I think of you every moment of the day. There’s not a time you’re not on my mind.”

“Likewise,” she agreed, turning her face to his so she could playfully bite his lip. “But I’m still not rooting for your team to win.”

This brought a laugh that was pure mirth and joy. “Hermione, that’s not what this is about. It’s not about gaining a sexy cheerleader for Slytherin House.”

She raised an eyebrow and blushed a little. “Oh it’s not? So what is this about then?”

“It’s about me…”


“Me being so madly in love with you I can scarcely breathe when we’re apart. Me wanting you like I haven’t wanted anything before.”

“More than the Nimbus 2001?”

“More than anything. And certainly more than a broomstick.”

Knowing how much the Slytherins loved their super sleek Nimbus 2001’s, a gift from Draco’s own father, made Hermione give him a questioning, unsure look.

“You kiss a broom, you get bristles in your mouth,” Malfoy asserted.

“What do you get when you kiss me?”

Draco smiled. “I get crazy.”

“Well then,” Hermione replied with an adoring smile. “All my kisses are for you.”

“Better be,” Draco muttered weakly as they clutched each other for another kiss, born not just from longing, but of a promise.

And in the shadows of the porch, unseen by the amorous couple, a figure shifted uncomfortably, wishing they’d stop and move on so he wouldnt have to see the youthful desire that had eluded him his entire life. He’d come out here to escape the maddening crowd of irritating students, to lose himself in his own memories of almost happiness. He didn’t want to see lovers entwined in heated kisses. Severus Snape just wanted to be alone.

Love Is The Darkest Art 24

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 35:

Dumbledore’s Army was growing. The group of students were now meeting regularly in The Room Of Requirements. This room, hidden from all others not part of their gathering, was becoming Hermione’s favorite place. Not only for their meetings, where Harry was teaching them defense against the dark arts, but for solitary time as well. On evenings when no meeting was held, she slipped away to be alone and ponder the most darkest art of all: being in love.
In her mind she still tried to convince herself she did not love Draco, though with her mouth she had confessed so. But Draco was different than her, and there were some things she couldn’t tell him, leading her to reason that what she felt couldn’t be love. After all, when you loved someone, weren’t you comfortable sharing everything with them? If you had to hide things, then what did that mean for the relationship? And yet having to hide her feelings for the Slytherin bad boy was a large part of the allure. The excitement of the thought of being with Draco was because she wasn’t supposed to. The differences between their houses made that clear. No Gryffindor girl had ever been so enamored of a Slytherin guy before. It was almost forbidden. And there it was. Draco was the boy she wasn’t supposed to have.
The more she thought that though, the more determined her heart became. And with that she found reasons to be close to him.

Quidditch was about to resume. Afternoon practices were going on daily. Thankfully her friend Harry was being allowed to play again, his detentions with Dolores Umbridge having come to a close. Hermione, in a show of support attended the practices, cheering for both Harry and the sadly inept Ron, whom she hoped would improve by the time of the first game. But she wasn’t just there for them. No, there was a certain boy in robes of green and silver, practicing with his team close by. She could pick him out at times, his pale blonde hair waving in the breeze. Though she would never admit it, she loved how agressive he played. There was something urgent, almost animalistic, in the way he flew on his broomstick, or practiced grabbing the snitch. Briefly she imagined him being that aggressive as a lover. It made her muscles ache, put a tingling in her stomach, thinking of the two of them wrapped up together, bodies entwined in throes of…

“Ron’s a horrible player,” a soft voice said from beside her, and it jolted her out of her sensual wanderings. She turned red as if everyone knew which gutter her mind had to clamber out of.

“I don’t say it to be mean,” Luna Lovegood continued. “He’s just the weakest link on the team.”

“He’s not that bad,” Hermione replied, regaining her composure and coming to her friend’s defense. Luna was right of course. Ron did seem to be lacking in the concentration needed to be an effective player, but one does not talk bad about friend. “He just needs encouragement,” she said out loud, though whether it was for Luna’s benefit or her own remained to be seen.

Again, her eyes turned towards Draco practicing in the adjoining field with the Slytherin team. She felt something bump her arm. She turned and saw Luna was holding a pair of small binoculars out to her. When Hermione didn’t take them right away, Luna said, “Don’t worry, I wont tell anyone.”

Hermione was caught by surprise. “Tell anyone what?”

Luna gave her a look that spoke volumes. “You and Draco.”

Hermione laughed. “Draco? You must be out of your head.”

Luna look confused for just a second, but then replied, “No, I’m well inside my head. I know you were with him in the greenhouse that day. When you saw me and Neville.”

Hermione didn’t know how to respond. Whether to verify the truth in Luna’s observations or to play it off as plain silliness. After a few moments she made up her mind.

“You’re mistaken. I don’t like Draco. I like….” She looked at the players on the quidditch field and blurted out the first one she could think of. “…Ron Weasley.”

Luna raised an eyebrow and lifted her binoculars to her eyes. Directing them towards the Quidditch goal she nodded. “That could work, I suppose. My dad says things aren’t going to work with Neville and me. He says he’s going to marry Hannah Abbott one day.” She shook her head. “As if.”

Hermione wasn’t sure why she was yelling her all this. She and Luna hadn’t been close friends. In fact, she often had ridiculed and sometimes insulted Lovegood. And now the strangest girl at Hogwarts was opening up to her on the Quidditch bleachers.

“Hannah Abbott?” Hermione asked, incredulous. “I cant see that either.”

Luna looked at her. Her face held a knowing secret. “Well, there are many who wouldn’t believe you like Draco either, so you’re safe. Mum’s the word with me.” Shecaet the binoculars down beside Hermione. “You can return them to me later. No sense straining your eyes.”

Before she could protest or deny things further, Luna was up and gone. She watched her go and the realization hit her. Someone knew. The secret wasn’t quite hidden anymore. For a moment in her quiet panic, she thought of casting a spell towards Luna, to ensure she’d never speak of it to anyone else. But instead she looked on the bleacher beside her. She picked up the binoculars and put them to her eyes. First, she focused on the Gryffindor team. Harry on the pitch. Ron at the goal. But she soon found herself seeking out that flash of green and silver. Draco. Her Draco. Forever.

Scene 36:

Malfoy was having trouble concentrating. Usually he did well at practice, but he found himself being more aggressive and he tried to curb his heightened emotions. Save it for Gryffindor, he told himself. It was just a dream, nothing more.

The dream in question had occurred the night before. In it, Draco had found himself looking upon his father’s stricken face. Lucius was afraid. Very afraid. Dementors swirled around him, seeming to feed off the elder Malfoy’s fears. Draco tried to go to him, but could never quite reach him. There was an invisible barrier between them, as if his father was a prisoner and he was free. He called out and Lucius looked up. “I told you to stay away from her,” he moaned at his son. “Now look what you’ve done.”

Draco, now on the field, looked up in much the same way his father had done in the dream. Except here, someone was watching him. Someone with binoculars in the stands. Even from where he stood he could see who it was. Hermione Granger. His heart’s desire. His secret love. His father’s doom.

But Malfoy wasn’t the only one who saw Hermione with the binoculars. Ron Weasley had looked up from the goal to see his friend checking out the practice. The problem was she was looking at the opposite team. Slytherin. Why was she checking them out? Worse yet, she was smiling. When he saw the direction of her amplified gaze, his jaw dropped. She was grinning dreamily. At Draco Malfoy.

Love Is The Darkest Art 23

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 34:

Draco and Hermione hadn’t spoken for weeks. Not in public anyway. And certainly not nicely if others were around. Though they had been threatened with harsh punishment upon their nighttime return to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall interceded on their behalf, declaring for all to hear that Hogsmead could get quite confusing to navigate, and a wrong turn down a dark alley could get you lost easily. Dolores Umbridge didn’t agree with this defense until Snape spoke up on Draco’s behalf with the explanation he had asked the Slytherin student to pick up some items for him and then failed to give him proper directions. Eventually, it was Dumbledore’s arrival, asking Hermione if she had delivered the letter to his brother for him, that got her off the hook. When she replied confused, “Um, no…I’m sorry,” he smiled.

“Oh well,” he said. “I’m sorry that my task got you lost.”

After that, Dolores put on a show of being annoyed, despite knowing it was she who had sent Draco to Hogsmead in the first place. Eventually, the whole incident was forgotten, though Ron and Harry both picked on Hermione for having to ride on the night bus with Malfoy.

“That must have bern torture,” Weasley said.

“Absolute,” Hermione lied.

In the days following, both Draco and she made up tales about each other to keep anyone from finding out they had spent the whole day and part of the evening together. “He smells like a wet river rat,” Hermione declared over lunch in the Great Hall one day, to which Luna Lovegood remarked, “He reminds me more of a Blibbering Humdinger.” To which nearly everyone rolled their eyes. After all, no one had ever seen most of the creatures Luna talked about.

Draco was just as insulting when he told everyone at his table that Hermione had foul breath comparable to an unbathed mountain troll. Both Crabbe and Goyle laughed loudly, but Pansy Parkinson seemed suspicious. “How do you know what her breath is like?”

He looked at his Slytherin classmate and scowled. “Because she was breathing all over me, duh…”

Unconvinced, Pansy pouted. “Why?”

Now Draco rolled his eyes. “Because she likes me, you idiot.”

Now everyone laughed. Goyle fell out of his chair even. No one even suspected Draco’s last statement had been the truth. Such was the beauty of having been enemies for years. Of course, calling Pansy an idiot in front of everyone had its own effect, and the girl got up crying and fled the room.

Crabbe leaned close to Draco and whispered, “Now, she likes you.”

Draco looked after the departing Pansy and shook his head. Girls. You needed an open pensieve to even know what they were thinking half the time.

In between studies, Hermione pondered what to tell Harry and Ron, if anything. The fact that Death Eaters had come to attack her, and do God-knows-what after, bothered her greatly. It had been suggested Voldemort staged the attempt in order to get to Harry, so didn’t he deserve to know something? But if she said anything then he’d know that she and Draco getting lost in Hogsmead was more than just blind coincidence. So she didn’t say anything. Harry already knew Voldemort was trying to get to him. That was no secret ,to him or his inner circle. Even if the rest of the school didn’t. She tried to justify in her head the reasons behind her silence, and it all boiled down to her desire to keep Draco a secret from everyone. but that in itself posed questions. How far would she be willing to go to keep others from finding out?

This question plagued her for the next few days as both she and Draco eased their way back into their roles of prefects. Hermione, true to herself, used the position to try and help others and steer them in the right direction, while Draco took the opportunity to hold his position at Hogwarts over everyone else’s head. it bothered Hermione that he seemed unchanged by their times together. Perhaps it was really good acting in secret keeping, a role he was playing to avoid suspicion, but day by day she asked herself which was he acting. Which was the real Draco? The one she knew when they were alone together, or the one that aggravated and ridiculed students, most particular her own friends?

Sitting in her room one evening after dinner, she contemplated this over a shoe. It was Draco’s, left behind in the greenhouse as he’d made his secret escape when Luna and Neville had almost caught them. She thought it had been some really quick thinking that had prompted him to leave it behind when he slipped away under his invisibility cloak. After all, it gave her an excuse, though a flimsy one, for being under a table in the greenhouse. Why she never gave it back to him, she wasn’t quite sure. Part of her reasoned, “well, he never asked for it.” Another part told her she had kept it as a souvenir of her first serious, and intimate, love. But how serious was it? She’d heard it said before somewhere that the greatest love was one in which you’d lay your life down to protect the other. With all their secrecy, just how far was she willing to go in her admiration? How could she have the greatest love and yet never tell a soul? She turned the shoe over in her hands, thinking of Draco and she, of where they’d be in ten years. A fleeting thought escaped her that made her blush. A bedroom, dishevelled blankets, an older she and Draco in their underwear curled up together after having made love. Their face flushed, but smiling. Their bodies aglow, glistening sweat across his bare chest. Her fingers tracing lines in the moisture of his skin, wanting him again and again and….

“Hey, whose shoe?” somebody asked, shocking her out of her imaginings and into the real world. It startled her so much she nearly flung Draco’s footwear into the corner. She spun towards the voice.

“Ginny! Oh my, you scared me!”

“I see that. Sorry.” She took a few steps toward the shoe. Hermione was faster and snatched it up off the floor.

Ginny wrinkled her brow. “What are you doing with a boy’s shoe?”

Hermione looked at it in her hand. “Um, I found it outside our door.” She turned it over nervously, hoping Ginny wouldn’t discover who it belonged to. It wasnt like anyone spent much time checking out Draco’s feet. “I was just getting ready to take it to McGonagall,” she said. “Let her sort it out.”

“You dont have to do that,” Ginny replied. “Filch is tight out in the hall. You know he’ll find out what stupid boy can’t keep his shoes on.”

Hermione laughed. “That’s for sure.” She slid past Ginny, not daring to look at her for fear she’d see the truth in her eyes. “Be right back.” She hefted the shoe in her other hand and went out the door. Going down the stairs that seperated Gryffindor girls from boys, she walked briskly through her house’s common room and into the hall. She glanced behind her, wondering if Ginny had followed. She sighed in relief when she saw she hadn’t. Then she collided into someone so hard it nearly knocked them both down.

“Slow down, Granger,” Draco sneered. “Before I recommend points be taken from you.” He saw the shoe in her hand. She saw his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle by his side.”You have something of mine it seems.” He reached out and snatched the shoe out of her hand. He stepped closer to her, a menacing look on his face. “It’s my heart,” he muttered low so only she could hear.

“What?” Hermione asked. She had heard him exactly, but part if her wanted to hear it again, only louder and in front of his friends.

He didn’t fall for it. Instead, he turned to his buddies, waved the shoe, and exclaimed, “See boys, I told you she had an insane crush on me.”

At first, she thought he’d gone on and told them. That he’d let their secret out to someone, but then she realized he was playing the game again. The “let’s pretend we’re enemies still” ruse.

“You wish,” she came back at him. “I’d rather crush on…Peeves.”

“Oh God, Granger that is just too gross.” Goyle and Crabbe guffawed. “You need me to take you to the infirmary?”

She looked hard at him, her eyes not leaving his own. “Yes I think you might have to. I’m suddenly not feeling well.” She made a gesture as if she were going to throw up. She put her hand over her mouth, and both Crabbe and Goyle backed up.

“Go get McGonagall,” he commanded them, and like dutiful servants that obeyed, running off down the hall. Anything to get away from a possibly hurling girl. Draco grabbed Hermione by the arm. “You better come with me. You look like you might faint any minute. Don’t hurl on my feet.”

He dragged her in the opposite direction of Goyle and Crabbe. “Madam Pomfrey is going to want to get a look at you.” Around the corner, out of sight of everyone else, he pushed her against the wall. “And I want to look at you too,” he said in a hushed tone.

Hermione smiled, her fake sickness vanishing in an instant. She grabbed the sides of his face with her hands and pulled him to her. Their lips collided, fulll of want and hungry for affection.

“I’ve missed you,” Draco whispered against her tongue. A thrill of excitement went through her. She wanted to say she felt empty and alone without him, but she didn’t. Instead, she welcomed his mouth so fully against her own, onlookers, had there been any, would have thought someone had thrown a “two become one” charm at them.

Love Is The Darkest Art 22

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 32:

Draco and Hermione took the night bus back to Hogwarts. They sat in the back so they could have their privacy, yet it didn’t really matter. They were the only ones onboard. Hermione held Draco’s hand in her lap, her fingers curled around his. Her head lay over on his shoulder in perfect contentment. She wished the bus would drive far past the school and take them far away to where no one knew them.

Draco looked at her and smiled. Kissing the top of her head, he too imagined the night bus would carry them far from familiar surroundings and deposit them somewhere they could start life anew. Returning to Hogwarts brought the realization they would be a secret once more.

The afternoon had been amazing. Though it had included being attacked by death eaters, they had spent the late afternoon alternating between cuddling by the fire and slow dancing to music within the empty solace of Malfoy Manor. At one point Draco had revealed the secret piano, an ancient musical instrument hidden by a charm. It had sat invisible in the corner but with a wave of his wand it appeared and began to play a beautiful song. Hermione loved the melody it played and she allowed Draco to sway her around the floor, his cheek against hers, warm sweet breath in her ear. The fact he hadn’t replaced his then buttonless shirt and instead left it open made the dance even more wonderful. Despite being sorry for ripping all the buttons off earlier, her hands rested on his exposed chest, tracing her name on his skin. When the sweet melody finished, she sighed, “That was beautiful.”

“One day I’m going to learn how to play it with my own hands,” he promised.

“I believe you can do whatever you set your mind to do.”

“What about what my heart sets to do?”

She smiled. “I believe the heart may be a little more fickle than that.”

Draco laughed in her ear. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. When I graduate I’m liable to get married to Pansy Parkinson.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Oh God no. I think you’d be more compatible with Daphne Greengrass.”

“Well, Daphne is a true blood,” he replied, thinking of his Slytherin classmate. “And she comes from an old, respected wizarding family.” He put his hand on his chin as if lost in thought. “Hmmmm…”

“This mudblood is going to kick your butt,” Hermione replied with a smirk across her face.

Draco laughed again. “Mmmm, that’s what I like.”

The late afternoon had been like that. Joyful teasing, playful picks on each other. With their time at the Malfoy Estate, things seemed natural. Their relationship took on the feel of real boyfriend and girlfriend, and found them kissing madly whenever the conversation lagged.

“I wish it could always be this way,” Hermione remarked at one point.

Draco sighed. “Me, too.”

But somewhere inside, Hermione felt it was a wish that would never be granted. There was no charm or spell that would change who they were. No bottled genie was going to appear and change the world around them. The stars above would always be crossed while fate laughed at them from across the street. Even the darkest arts couldn’t find a place for their affections to dwell.

“It’s getting late,” Hermione said, trying not to sob over these realizations.

Draco pulled away from her to look in her eyes. There was no hiding the fact they were tearing up. “What’s wrong, Hermione?”

“Nothing,” she quickly answered. “It’s just…we better be getting back. We’re going to be in enough trouble as it is.”

He looked at her, trying to determine the truth as if it were hidden on her skin somewhere. When she didn’t explain her emerging tears further, he kissed her eyelids. “Whatever is wrong, you can tell me whenever you wish to, and we’ll find a solution together.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I don’t think any solution will make us happier.”

“Hey,” he said lifting her face to his. “I’m happy now.” He gave her a brief kiss on her trembling lips. “Aren’t you?”

She looked into his gray eyes and offered up a smile. “Yes, I am.” She kissed him back and pushed every negative thing away from her, into the shadows where they belonged.

Scene 33:

Now on the night bus, Hermione’s thoughts were on what she was going to say when they arrived back at Hogwarts. This was going to be awkward, them showing up together after dark. Their passes had only been for the afternoon, and they were late.
They had better be getting their story straight, but neither of them had spoken much since boarding the bus.

“What are we going to tell them?”

Draco didnt look at her, but stared out the window. “I dont know. We got lost perhaps.”

She shook her head. “Together? I don’t think anyone will believe we are hanging out by choice.”

“Then we’ll pretend it wasn’t by choice. We’ve been enemies for years. Shouldn’t be hard to keep up appearances.”

Hermione smirked. “It may be easy for you to do that, but I’m having a hard time pretending now. For us to be so close and yet here we are hiding how we feel.”

He looked out the window onto the night. “I wish we didn’t have to hide it. But you know as well as I do it’s too dangerous and damaging to do otherwise.”

“It’s already dangerous, Draco. We had to fight Death Eaters today. And i still don’t understand why they wanted to kidnap me or whatever. The one who rescued us said it was to get at Harry, but why didn’t they attack Cho? That’s the girl he’s crazy about.”

Draco looked at her. “Cho Chang? From Ravenclaw? But wasn’t she?….”

“Cedric’s girlfriend, yes.”

“Well that makes more sense now. Crazy about, you say?”

“Yeah, he is. After what happened to Cedric…”

“Yeah what did happen to Cedric?”

“Voldemort, he…”

“No, not what Potter’s saying. What really happened?”

“What do you mean, Draco?” She pulled her hand from his. “Are you saying you don’t believe Harry’s account?”

Draco looked so hard at her it was as if he were boring holes into her soul. “I loathe Harry Potter,” he said in a distasteful whisper.

“But why? I have never understood your animosity towards…”

“All my life,” he replied cooly, “All I’ve heard is Harry this and Harry that. The boy who lived they drilled into my head, as if i were the boy who died or something. Next to Potter I have been meaningless. I come from a well respected, prodigious family and where does he come from? Dead parents, that’s where. And that damned scar on his forehead. First time i saw him I wanted to smack it off him.”

Hermione put her hand back over his, though she didn’t like the things he was saying about her friend. But this wasn’t about Potter. It was about Malfoy. “Draco, you have never been meaningless. Not to me. Not now.”

“But i was once. Once upon a time I never mattered to you. And it will be that way again.”

Surprise on her face. “How can you say that? Draco, I…” She stopped before she could say anything further.

“You what?” He waited for an answer that didn’t come.

“I…,” she uttered, and turned her head from him. “Draco, I’m not going to..”

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “I may not be Draco the meaningless, but I’m certainly Draco the distraction.”

“You are not a distraction,” she shouted in frustration. “Draco, I care so much about you. I…”

“See, you can’t say it. You, and all your high and mighty, goody good attitude…”

“Draco, shut up a minute, will you? Would you give me a chance to talk. You are so wrapped up in your own negarive idea of yourself, drowning in self pity and disdain for everyone else you won’t even allow yourself to believe someone could have feelings for you. Damn it Draco, I love you.”

It came out quicker than she intended, and she instantly went quiet, fearing he now knew the greatest secret of her heart.

At her outburst, Draco looked at her as if she’d just said the most incredulous thing. “You love me?”

She hesitated but a second. “Yes Draco, I love you.”

For a moment it looked as if he were going to cry. A tear welled up in the corner of a silver grey eye. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling unti it drew blood. A dot of crimson appeared on his mouth and Hermione gew alarmed.

“Draco, stop it. You are hurting yourself,” she cried out.

He stopped biting his lip and looked into her eyes, letting her be the first girl to ever see tears brought forth by his own hopes and fears. “I have always loved you,” he said, before she kissed the very blood from his lips and wrapped him in her arms.

The night bus drove on…

Love Is The Darkest Art 21

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 31:

The afternoon was growing overcast, though there were still a few hours left. Darkness seemed to be descending on the driveway leading to Malfoy Mansion. Not that Hermione or Draco noticed. They couldn’t see anything other than the back of their eyelids and the dreamscape that danced in their heads. Eyes closed, lips mingling moist kisses, melting like snow on a warm hearth, they were in their own moment and world. Having been seperated by unfortunate choices and pride for days, the time apart had brought them crashing against one another in intense joy and a desire neither of them understood.

Hermione could have stayed right there forever, at the beginning of the Malfoy driveway, inside of Draco’s embrace, but it was getting colder outside and the events of the day had exhausted them both. They needed the warmth of the house and to get off their feet for awhile.

“We should go inside,” Draco said. “They might be looking for us. If they followed…”

Hermione grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s go.” She certainly didn’t want to be standing in the middle of the path if a slew of Death Eaters should apparate in front of them.

They both walked up the drive and to the house. A dog howled in the distance again. Was it the same one Hermione had noted on her arrival, or had perhaps another joined it to stalk them from some spot hidden in the woods?

“Wolves,” Draco told her, noticing her trepidation. “We get them around here sometimes.” He squeezed her hand. “Of course, most of them are friends of my dad.”

She gave him a sharp quizzical look, and he laughed. She punched him playfully in the arm, and they went up the front steps to the large ornate door of the mansion.

Once inside, Hermione was taken back by the size of the place. High ceilings, a large foyer, and when Draco led her to the dining hall with its immense fireplace, she was already thinking the place was more suited for giants than people.

Draco pulled a seat out for her at the table. She sat down in the high backed chair and glanced over at the fireplace. No flame burnt in its hearth and though they were inside now, she could see her own breath.

“How did you know where I was?” Hermione asked, as Draco sat in the chair beside her.

He looked at her with a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“When you saved me from your…um double?”

He hesitated. But only slightly. “Umbridge.”

Her jaw dropped. “Professor Umbridge sent you to save me?”

He laughed. “Hardly.” Getting up, he walked to the fireplace mantle, his back to her so he wouldn’t have to look in her eyes. “She sent me to spy on you.”

Now she stood up too. “Spy on me? For what?”

He sighed. “She says someone told her there was an unauthorized secret meeting going down and she wanted to know what it was. I guess she thinks you’re a real rebel.”

“Maybe I am,” Hermione replied proudly.

“I didn’t always think so, but I’m beginning to see that. I’m just not sure how far you want to take this rebel thing.”

“What’s that mean?”

He turned towards her. “Well…are you here to stay the night or….?”

Her face registered surprise, but it wasn’t shock. It was blushing embarassment.
“Draco, we can’t stay the night. We have to get back.”

“That’s true, but we both have afternoon passes. And the afternoon isnt over yet.” He looked around the room. “And there’s no one here but us.”

She smiled slyly. “What are you suggesting?”

He touched the side of her face. “A warm fireplace. David Bowie on the radio. You curled up in my lap. Me kissing you all over.”

“I think I get your point,” she replied breathlessly. She put her hand against his chest as if trying to feel his bare skin through the fabric. With her other hand she produced her wand and pointed it at the fireplace. Whispering the proper charm, she ignited the logs, which produced soft blue and red flames that seemed to dance to the beat of her own heart.

Draco placed his hand gently upon her chest as well, moving his hand slightly to feel the spot of her heart. Resting on the swell of her breast, he felt as if the blood within his hand was growing warmer, causing a gentle tingle that moved through his arm and on to other parts of his body.

Her kiss arrived softly against his face, lips slowly parting to allow his tongue to play across hers. Hermione leaned into him, her body pressed against his. She moved her hands to his back and allowed them to slide down his frame and squeeze. He smiled beneath their sweltering, passionate kiss and did the same with her, pulling her as close as he could with a soft caress upon the lowest part of her back. In each other’s hands they committed themselves to the flames of the fire, eventually sinking to the hearth where, she climbed onto his lap and took his face into her hands pulling it down to her throat and neck. His kisses landed there, wet, warm, and bent on sweet exploration of her skin. With nimble fingers he began to unbutton her blouse as the crackle of the fire seemed to grow with their attentions.

Hermione lost in the feel of Draco’s lips on her bare throat, threw her head back. As she did, she grabbed his shirt and pulled it open. She didn’t bother with his buttons. They popped loose from the cloth and scattered across the floor.

Perhaps it was the sound of the buttons skittering across stone that broke her thoughts of giving in to Draco and having him give in to her, but she found herself pulling her kiss from his and begging for breath. She felt as if the color was leaving her flesh and imagined she must now appear as a pale ghost in his eyes. “Draco…I..” she whispered, catching her breath in her throat and holding it there.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. “I..just…I..” He didnt know how to finish the sentence, and so just hung his head, not daring to look at her.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, lifting his chin with her hand so his face was level with hers. Suddenly she felt as if she were ten years older, instead of just one. “I started it. You were just following my heart’s music. Speaking of which, what happened to Bowie?”

Draco had forgotten. In their almost love making, he’d forgotten to put David Bowie on the radio as he suggested. He rectified that with a quick charm. A song began to play seemingly from nowhere, it’s first lyrics bursting forth from a speaker cabinet she could not see. “The hand that wrote this letter sweeps the pillow clean…”

Hermione instantly recognized the tune. It had been playing in her classroom daydream, that first fantasy she had had of Draco. Had it been a prophecy of this moment? Of this day and all its possibilities?
“What’s this song?” she asked.

Draco grinned. “Letter to Hermione.”

“No, I’m being serious.”

“I am too. It’s called Letter to Hermione. Mom used to play it when I was little. Father hates it of course.”

She snickered. “Yeah I can imagine. Bowie is a muggle, isn’t he?”

“Actually, I think he’s The Goblin King.”

She looked at him, skeptical. Then laughed. “Very funny. I saw that movie too.”

The song continued to play in the background, and Draco took Hermione’s hand. He spun her around in a pirouette as if they were at a formal dance. Then he pulled her into his arms. “You know, this is a pretty sad song. He’s in love with a girl who is now with someone else. He’s not supposed to have her anymore.”

“Yes, that is sad,” she agreed in a whisper.

“Are we supposed to have each other, Hermione?”

The question surprised her, though she’d asked herself the same thing many times. “I try not to think about things like that,” she lied. “I try to just live in the moment.”

“You seem to be the kind of girl who thinks of the future, always planning ahead. Living in the moment isn’t you.”

“It is when I’m with you. Nothing else seems to matter. I mean, normally I’m worried about my studies and what’s happening at Hogwarts. I’m thinking of helping house elves, hoping my friends have good days. I worry about Harry. Ron, and Hagrid..”

He scowled and muttered, “Weasley is our king…”

She gave him a scolding look. “That wasn’t nice, by the way. You should stop teasing people so much.”

“I can’t help it, Hermione. It’s who I am, I guess.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not who you are. I have seen the real you, Draco.”

“Then tell me who I am, because I don’t know.”

She put her hand up and touched his cheek. “You are beautiful,” she said. “Strong and brave, loyal to your family and friends. You are a planner yourself. For you it’s more than the moment. It’s a stepping stone to bolder, greater things. You have a loving heart but do not always allow it to shine.”

He opened his mouth to say something but she put her finger to his lips. “You have a kiss that sets me afire, Draco. You find all my secret desires and bring them to the light. I know you see yourself as something dark and lonely, but you are the brightest thing in my sky right now.” She kissed him lightly. “I want you to make me shine.”

Draco looked in her eyes, so deeply it was as if he were falling inside of her. “You already do, Hermione Jean.” He returned her soft kiss. “It is I whose sky is empty.”

“Not anymore, Draco.” This time, her kiss lingered full upon him, and did not fade until the last strain of the song was no more.