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Love Is The Darkest Art 26

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 40:

Hermione was crying. It had been only a few days since she’d stormed out of The Great Hall and met Draco on the front porch. But as wonderful as that rendezvous had been, now things had changed. Draco was angry and spiteful. Hermione was hurt, confused, and mad for what had happened to her friends. Harry was kicked off the Quidditch team. Ron was…well, Ron was Ron. But it all had begun with him, though at no fault of his own. All the blame lay with Hermione. It was she who had kissed Ron.

So it happened like this. Because Ron hadn’t been doing so well as part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she wanted to encourage him so Slytherin taunts wouldn’t distract him on the field. So before the day’s match, she’d given him a kiss. On the cheek. For luck.The effect on him was near miraculous. At first he was surprised. Then he blushed. Then he played one of his best games ever.

The effect on Draco wasn’t as pleasant. Though he’d witnessed it from afar, he still saw it. His Hermione kissing someone else. The smug, adoring look on Ron’s face. To say he was furious was an understatement. Granger was his girl. The only one she should be kissing was himself. And so, his revenge, his jealous retribution, was enacted onfield and after the match, resulting in three members getting kicked off the Gryffindor team. Harry. Fred. George.

The loss would most likely cause the Gryffindor team to disband. After all, how do you replace that many players? Still, that wasn’t Hermione’s thought when she confronted Draco outside the library just an hour after the game. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded.

His look was smug and pleased with himself. “What is wrong with you?” he countered.

“I’m furious is what’s wrong with me. You got Harry kicked off the team! George and Fred too.”

He sneered. “I didn’t plan it that way, but they deserved it.”

“Deserved it? Why?!”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just tired of being made the fool.”

Hermione was flabbergasted. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“How long you been kissing Weasley behind my back? Hmmm. What, you didn’t think I’d see? Or maybe you wanted me to see? Make an even bigger fool out of me? Or is that how you keep us secret? Make out with Ron where everyone can see?”

Now she truly was furious. And hurt. “No one is making out with Ron!” For a moment, she turned to walk away, but changed her mind. She wasn’t going to stand for this kind of jealousy from anyone. “You jealous little punk, I gave him a peck on the cheek for luck. And now you act like I’ve been cheating on you or something. Well, to hell with you, Draco. I don’t need you in order to feel miserable about myself.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you never needed me. You just wanted me to be like your other boys. Well guess what miss perfect, I’m never going to be like you or your Gryffindor boys. I am me. I will always be me. Stop trying to change me.”

“Draco, no one wants to change you. I like you for you. Yeah, some of the stuff you do to others irritate me, but I love…”

“Love? Ha! If you love someone you don’t go around kissing someone else. Just the other day you said all your kisses were for me, liar.”

“Damn it, Draco,” Hermione replied. “It was just a good luck kiss on the cheek. For luck Malfoy, not love. After all we have been through, do you honestly think….”

Hermione stopped. It wasn’t anything about Draco, nor Ron, nor even that hateful Dolores Umbridge. It was something else entirely that caused her to stop speaking. Her mouth was still moving. But nothing was coming out.

Draco was confused, but then looked beyond her. Luna Lovegood stood there, arm oustretched, pointing her wand at Hermione’s back. Tears were in her eyes. “You need to shut up,” she whispered. Draco drew his own wand and stepped back.

Then Harry, Ron, and Neville arrived. All three realized at once something was wrong. For one, Hermione was speechless, trying to move her mouth but unable to bring sound forth. Two, Luna stood with her wand out, pointing at the enemy. And three, Draco, the very one who had caused Harry to lose his position on the team that afternoon, was taking an attack stance. Harry drew his wand. “Why you…”

He let loose a spell and the energy left the tip of his wand. Draco blocked it easily, and then sent one right back. But it wasn’t aimed at Harry. Instead it struck Luna, knocking her off balance. She tumbled backwards.

Harry was livid, as he prepared to launch another blast at his foe. “It wasn’t enough to get me kicked off the team so you could finally win, was it? Now you want to attack my friends!?” He let the spell go and it sailed from his wand.

Draco spun and dropped to one knee to avoid getting hit. Hermione was shaking her head back and forth. Even he could see she was mouthing him to stop. He got to his feet, unsure of what to do, and that’s when a blast from Ron’s wand got him. He was knocked back on his butt, bringing his wand up in retaliation. He had been prepared to let this go and escape. But not now. Ron, his new rival, was going to pay. Draco knew he was better at the dark arts than Weasley. So he hit him hard enough to send him skidding across the hall to hit the opposite wall with a breathless “umph.”

His victory was short lived however. Neville socked him right in the mouth. Not with a spell. Nor with a charm. But with his fist. Which he now held in pain, but it was worth it to watch Draco’s head reel to the side for hurting Luna.

Draco rolled and came to his feet, shaking the dizzy spin from his head. He raised his wand, the worst curse imaginable springing up into his mind. Before he could utter it though, Hermione’s voice returned. “Draco!” she screamed.
He turned to her, a painful, hurt look in his eyes. Then he sent a spell that caused all the dust from inside the library to gather and come forth like a wall between he and his attackers. When it all came down and cleared, Draco was gone.

Now in the Gryffindor girl’s dorm, Hermione lay on her side in her bed, so the other girls wouldn’t see her tears. She just wanted to be left alone. They’d all tried to talk to her when she arrived in tears. Despite the silence curse having worn off, she still chose not to speak. She shook her head, retreating to her corner, ignoring their whispers, to cry alone.

Scene 41:

Draco too was in tears, though he wasn’t in his dorm. He had abandoned Slytherin’s area to walk the hall like a ghost in his invisibility cloak. His friends, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy had driven him crazy with questions until he had told them all to shut up. He stormed out saying he had a meeting with Umbridge. Once outside, he threw on the cloak. There was no meeting of course, though he had imagined one would come soon. After all, because of his taunts at Ron during the game, some of the Gryffindor players had physically attacked him. Dolores, seeing an opportunity, had taken away his attacker’s playing priviledges, including their brooms. He had to admit it gave him smug satisfaction to see Potter lose his broom, but that was overshadowed by the argument with Hermione. He hadn’t meant to get so angry. It just bothered him to see her lips touch another, even on the cheek.

Now, hours later, he berated himself with his tears over how he had reacted. He couldn’t help it, he told himself. He loved the beautiful mudblood. He loved the way her mousy hair felt between his fingers, her hands caressing his chest. He loved feeling her heartbeat in his palm. Tasting the sweet-like-sugar kisses from her moist lips. He loved how she fit in his arms, how his body ached for hers as he fought the urge to take them further in their passions. For all these reasons, his tears fell, and a little voice inside his head whispered, wouldn’t you like to forget it all? To stop this pain, this jealousy, wouldn’t it be best to have it all erased? For a moment he found himself gliding to the dungeons and Professor Snape’s dank office.

He raised his hand to knock, then stopped. No, this can be worked out another way. With the back of his hand, he wiped the wet from his face. He didnt want to forget Hermione. He wanted her. He needed her in the way a spell needed a wand to work its magic. Without her, the darkest art, if that’s what love was, was nothing more than an empty cocoon with nothing inside. Draco was tired of being empty. He’d been that way his whole life. But she’d changed that in recent days, and now, despite the way things had fallen apart between them, he loved her. Covered in the cloak, he moved away from Snape’s door and went back up the stairs.

On the other side, in the cold, dark office, Severus sat, contemplating who it had been outside, knowing that whomever he’d detected, it undoubtedly had something to do with muggles and their way of weening their way into wizard’s hearts…

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.

Love Is The Darkest Art 7

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 10

Draco Malloy stood in Umbridge’s office. He hadn’t been offered a seat and so he didn’t take one. Instead he stood in front of the woman’s desk as she made a show of rifling through papers and making him wait. Draco felt all this was show. She knew what she wanted to discuss, even if he didn’t, and she was demonstrating her own power and importance over his school life. Normally, faced with this situation, Draco would have been worried, trying to guess what he had done and how quickly it would get to his father, but this time he knew exactly what he’d been caught at. Sucking face with a muggle born. Though to him it had meant more than that, Lucius Malloy would not see it that way. His emotionally detached demeanor would demand stern punishment for Draco, and possibly expulsion for Hermione.

“How is your father?” Umbridge suddenly asked, as if sensing his very thoughts.

“Um…he’s doing well,” Draco answered nervously.

“You may call me Professor Umbridge,” she suggested firmly.

“Professor Umbridge,” he repeated.

She smiled and it reminded him of a crocodile ready to swallow its meal whole. “I admire your father. He’s a good man.” She waited a beat then continued. “But he stands on shaky ground with others who associate with…the ministry.” Then she grinned, as if she was delighting in the next part. “It would not do well for his position if it were known his son were cavorting with…well, mudbloods. And especially in so intimate a fashion.”

Draco didn’t respond. He stood there waiting because he knew there was more to come. It wasn’t enough that Umbridge knew about he and Hermione. Now it was time to use that against him.

“Do you understand me, Draco?”

“I’m not sure, Professor Umbridge. ”

She sighed and it came out almost like a chuckle. “Things are changing at Howarts. And they are going to be changing more. You are going to want to be on the right side of things. Not only for yourself, and your school, but your father as well.”

Draco was beginning to understand. Umbridge wanted something from him. And whatever it was, his family’s future were going to depend on his actions in the next few minutes.

“Do you know why I am here?”

Draco shook his head.

“I am here because the old way of things are unacceptable. The teaching ineffective. It’s a wonder anyone learns anything here. But there are some who don’t want change and would wish to undermine the ministry’s role in education. For that reason, I will need an extra set of eyes, to spy, I mean see, into places I am unable to go as a Professor.”

“You want me to spy for the ministry?”

“For me,” she corrected, then sighed. “Not spy really. Just in your new friendships, and other relationships, keep your eyes wide open. If you hear or see anything which attempts to keep or restore the old order so to speak, you come tell me. You hear anything of dissent, rebellion, or disregard for my…excuse me, the ministry’s…wishes, I want to know. Immediately.”

Draco thought for a moment, taking it all in. She was saying a lot, and yet there were still things she wasn’t saying at all. She didn’t need to really. The message was clear. Spy for Umbridge or his whole family would pay the price. She’d sell his father out to The Ministry, possibly even make up charges to do so. She’d tell Lucius about his son and the mudblood. Hell, she’d tell everyone. Both he and Hermione would face the fire from their peers, professors, and school regulations.

“Now Draco,” Umbridge sneared. “Do we have an understanding?”

He turned his head, trying to glance out the window. He had to know there was an easier world out there, where he could breath the open air and the scent of Granger, rather than the stifling, demanding office of Dolores Umbridge.

“Draco Malfoy? Do we…”

“Yes, we do,” he quickly answered. “You can count on me ” He looked at her now. “Just leave her alone.”

She smiled triumphant. “Perhaps it is YOU who should be leaving her alone.”

Draco didn’t reply. He knew this wasn’t a suggestion. Nor even an order. Umbridge needed him to be close to Hermione. She needed information about her and her friends. Draco didn’t care about that though. He just wanted to see Granger again. To breathe her hair, touch her skin, feel her lips melting onto his like Bernie Bott’s best flavored ice cream.

“You are dismissed, Malfoy,” Umbridge said, bringing him out of his wandering thoughts and back to the present.

“Of course, Professor,” he answered and turned to go.

“One more thing,” she said, causing him to hesitate at the door. “Not a word of our arrangement to anyone. Or word of your father’s…should I say, thefts…could be discovered by The Ministry.”

He nodded and wrapped his hand around the doorknob, wishing it were her neck he was twisting instead of the handle.

Scene 11:

“What’s wrong with you?”

Hermione was startled out of her reverie. She was in the Gryffindor common room, her head buried in her books. Yet she hadn’t been studying. She had been staring between the words, lost in the empty spaces and thinking of the blond haired boy who made her heart skip beats with his kiss.

“Excuse me?” She looked up at Ron.

“You’ve been too quiet today. You sick?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Thought so,” Ron agreed. “I can always tell.”

Hermione wondered to herself what else he could tell. Was there a look, a faraway gaze, that gave away the fact she wasn’t focused on her studies? Did she have a slytherin mark on her cheek where Draco had touched her?

“I’m sorry, Ron. I know I’m not much fun today.”

He smiled reassuringly. “Oh, you’ll snap out of it. Hey, I was going to try and talk Harry into helping me with my Quidditch, now that I’m on the team.”

“Yeah I heard that. Congratulations, Ron.”

“Thanks. I hope Harry isn’t too mad about it.”

“Why would he be mad?”

“Well, you know, ever since he has after hours detention with Umbridge he doesnt make it to practice, and so….”

At the mention of Umbridge she went pale and found it hard to breathe. “Excuse me, Ron, I need some air, ” she blurted out, gathered up her books and fled the room.

Ron watched after her, thinking he’d never understand girls and their sudden mood swings. He especially didn’t get Hermione these days when she kept running off like there was a Slytherin on her tail.

Hermione probably would have smiled at Ron’s analogy if she’d known it, but as it was she was too busy trying to flee the tightness in her chest. The fear that both she and Draco were at the end of things just as they’d begun. Part of her tried to tell her perhaps that was best, but this other half of her cried in desperation for his affections. Oh, if Umbridge just hadn’t seen them. If they’d only been more careful. She made a promise to herself from now on to take things more seriously. To make Draco her greatest secret. But in doing so, would that make him her deepest love? Only her tears held the truth, and so she tried to fight them back. But as she ran outside and the air hit her face, they came forth, streaking down her cheeks, until she collided with her desire beyond the doorway.

She fell into Draco’s arms and he caught her just as her legs threatened to collapse. He held her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. Every negative thought was whisked away in an instant, replaced by the wondrous feeling of being one again.

“Don’t let me go,” she sobbed againt him.

“I must,” she thought she heard him whisper, but then he was scooping her off her feet and carrying her down the steps…

Love Is The Darkest Art 6

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 9:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love Is The Darkest Art 5

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 7:

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

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

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

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

“To which you were daydreaming.”

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

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

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

“Certainly, child. What is it?”

“I’m not sure if you can help me.”

“I can try.”

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

“Causing you to lose sleep?”

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

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

“Love? No wait, i didn’t mean…”

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

“Um, I had heard….”

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

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

“But you married him, right?”

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

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

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

I’m almost certain it is, thought Hermione.

Scene 8:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

“If you can read my lips.”

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

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

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

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

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


Love Is The Darkest Art 4

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 5:

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

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

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

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

“If we get caught…” he began.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want,” she dared to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lovers,” he finished.

Scene 6:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miss Granger!”

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

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

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

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

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

Love Is The Darkest Art 3

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 4:

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

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

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

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

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ron? Don’t be ridiculous…”

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

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

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

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

Krum looked at Malfoy and raised a thick eyebrow.

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

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

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