Love Is The Darkest Art
A Dramione Fanfic Serial
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?”
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.