Tag Archives: fan fiction

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 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 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.

Love Is The Darkest Art 19

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 28

The doppelganger Draco sneered. “Unlike this little morsel, I am not afraid of you. I fear no one. Certainly not you, pathetic boy.” He glanced at Hermione. “Ah, to have your hands on such beauty and never doing a thing about it…”

“Let her go. This is your last warning.” To assert his meaning, Draco jabbed his double’s cheek slightly with his wand. “You don’t want to push me.”

“Push you? Ha! I’ll do more than that.” His eyes locked on Hermione who was still being held to the wall by his strength. “Ditch this clown, girl. I’ll show you a real man.”

The silencio curse was starting to wear off. Hermione moved her lips, her jaw trying to work, but still she could produce no sound. This made the villian laugh and she looked away from him. He looked too much like her Draco. Exactly like him to be sure.

As if knowing what she was thinking, Draco leaned toward her captor, his mouth at the doppleganger’s ear right next his wand. He whispered something she could not hear. It almost sounded like another language, and the resolute tone caused her to open her eyes.

The words were a charm and Hermione could see the effects working across the evil Draco’s face. His cheekbones seemed to shift, his chin dropping lower. His eyes, no longer silver grey slits, became blue tinged, bulbous orbs set in a head who’s very shape was changing. The change didn’t seem painful, for the face still leered at her, the lips pulling back and then resetting themselves against a set of teeth much larger than Draco’s. What had been the beautiful visage of Malfoy now revealed a scarred face she recognized. It was the man who had been in The Hog’s Head earlier, sitting across from the barman and laughing at an apparently baudy joke. Even then she’d found his gaze intrusive. Now it was downright invading.

The man, for the real version of him was clearly an adult, shifted on his feet so fast it caught both her and Draco off guard. In a series of twists, he was out from under Draco’s wand and drawing a deadly gnarled wand of his own. “Expelliarmus!” he shouted, pointing it directly at Malfoy.

Draco’s wand was pulled from his hand and it skidded across the cobblestones. The scarred man turned to Hermione who was reaching for her own wand. He uttered a command and jabbed his weapon in her direction. Before she could react, her feet were skidding across the alley carrying her towards him. Like a magnet pulling steel towards it, she was drawn to him and he wrapped an arm around her struggling form.
“No darling,” he said. “You’re coming with me. Someone wants to meet you…” He glared at Draco, who stood helpless with the villain’s wand pointing at him. “…after I’m done with you, of course,” he taunted.

Wrapping Hermione up in his cloak so hard she dropped her wand, he spun around and began to carry her off down the darkening alley. Draco cursed and reached down, picking up a loose cobblestone. He heaved the brick piece. It sailed through the air like a runaway snitch on a quidditch pitch, and found its target.

The scarred man grunted when the brick hit him in the back of his head. He released Hermione and spun angrily towards Draco. But the Slytherin was on him before he could raise his wand. Crack! A right hook across the bridge of his nose made it snap with a spray of blood, but he didnt go down. Even when Draco attempted to tackle him, it didn’t knock him off his feet. It however did knock him into the wall, where Draco released him and landed three hard blows to his Solar Plexus.

Hermione scrambled away from them both, her hands reaching on the alley floor for her wand. To her surprise, and despite the scarred man’s bulkier form, Draco was landing blow after blow to the man’s face, rocking the villain’s head back and forth. It was almost scary, the fury that exuded from Malfoy’s clenched fists. “I told you… to get… your hands… off her,” she heard him growl between blows.

She finally grasped her wand, raised it and took aim. Somebody grabbed it out of her hands and she screamed. A cloaked and hooded figure stood towering over her. He stood over six feet and out from under his dark cloak she saw the tattoo on his forearm. A skull and snake. The Dark Mark of a Death Eater.


Malfoy turned to her screams and lost his furious advantage. The scarred man clocked Draco across the side of his head. The man wore ornate rings which cut into Draco’s skull and made his head swim with blackness. Before he hit the ground, he saw a second hooded figure come out of the shadows and grab Hermione, lifting her off the ground in its inescapable grip.

Scarface kicked Draco in the ribs, leaning over him and pointing his wand into his face. Looking up, Draco saw the Death Eater mark on his arm. “She’s mine now,” the man said. “Don’t bother trying to follow us.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Draco promised.

The Death Eater threw back his head and laughed. “On the contrary, boy,” he snarled. “I’m going to kill you.” He glanced over to Hermione, still struggling to escape the other Eater that held her. “Want to know what I’m going to do to her?…”

Draco whispered something so low it was unintelligible.

Instinctively, the man leaned down. “What’s that?”

Draco replied in a sinister hiss, “Nothing.” Then he raised his head and bit the man’s ear off. Blood splayed across the man’s cheek and he howled, dropping his wand.

Hermione screamed again. The two Death Eaters were on the run, dragging her down the alley.

Pushing the injured man away, Draco bounded to his feet, recovered his own wand and was in pursuit. He didnt even look back to see if Scarface was going to hurl a curse his way. He had to get his girl from those goons.

They were ahead of him, getting ready to pass through a black door of an unmarked building. He hurled a bolt from his wand and it went by them, striking the stones at their feet. A shower of blinding sparks shot up and it made them stop. They spun around, with Hermione in front of them like a shield.

“This is for the other day,” Draco shouted, and hurled another bolt. Right at Hermione. It struck her in the stomach knocking the wind out of her and effectively shoving her into the death eater that held her. They both fell, she on top of him, landing on the rough stones of the alleyway.

Draco was already hurling a charm at the second death eater, who couldn’t believe a kid was attacking him. What kind of boy attacks one of Voldemort’s own. He soon found out when the charm struck, a curse that spun him around several times and smashed his face into the wall. It was surprising move, as it was one known only to Death Eaters. How the hell does a kid know that one, the figure thought before losing consciousness.

Hermione found herself being hauled to her feet. Still coughing from the bolt blow, her eyes were watering up, but she could still Draco’s determined face as he thrust her behind him and faced the Death Eater he’d liberated her from. The figure snarled underneath its hood and laughed.

“Enjoy your freedom for a few more seconds,” he hissed.

Draco looked up to the sky with fear and then back at the death eater. “Too bad we won’t be here to witness it.”

He spun to shield Hermione in his own cloak and aimed his wand at their own feet. There were sparks against the pavement, a blinding light flashed, causing the death eater to shield his eyes. The alley collapsed beneath Draco and Hermione, dropping them into a newly formed hole in the street, down into the depths of the village sewers.

Love Is The Darkest Art 18

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 26:

Hermione thought the meeting had went well. In fact, she was very happy with the turnout. There had been more students than she thought interested in learning Defense Of The Dark Arts the right way instead of Umbridge’s heavily watered down lessons. Hermione had spent many hours secretly telling others about this gathering. But attendance had exceeded expectations. She felt most of this was due to Ginny’s boyfriend Michael Corner and his connections in Ravenclaw. Regardless, the word had spread, and though there some concerns and squabbles she felt a leap in progress had been made.

A few things had stood out to her at the Hogshead gathering. One of course was the fact that she, Harry, and Ron were not the only ones unhappy with the new curriculum at school. Another was that getting involved in this took her mind off Draco. At least, for the most part. She did think of him and missed him greatly. She’d wished he was the type of person who would have wanted to be a part of this. Despite the affection they had secretly shared however, she knew deep down this wasn’t him and he’d never be in the same room with Harry exchanging pleasantries. Draco was a part of her life she couldn’t share with anyone. Or at least he had been.

While the meeting had gone well, and Draco’s presence would have created division, it did have its moments of uneasiness. The venue hadn’t exactly been the safest place for kids to be hanging out. It was a dingy, dirty place that catered to all manner of questionable patrons. It was the place to go if you didnt want to be seen. And there were plenty of shady characters there in the midst of their meeting.

A hooded witch, their face completely hidden under veil in the shadows, sat in the corner. There was no telling if the figure was listening in but it made her uneasy. A man with a scarred face sat at the bar laughing with the bartender over some unheard yet undoubtedly baudy joke. A few times he had glanced in Hermione’s direction and she’d quickly averted his eyes as his gaze was so penetrating she almost felt naked. And then there was a hag of a woman who kept casting hateful glares in her direction as if youth repulsed her. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it seemed that everyone was staring at her and it gave her a claustrophobic feeling. The only thing that put her at ease was returning her attention to the meeting and ignoring the rest.

Afterwards, standing outside the Hogs Head, she didnt see any of the ones that made her feel uncomfortable. She and Harry and Ron discussed the great turnout, while Ron had been in shock over the news his sister was dating someone and he was the last to know. Hermione wanted to say she was glad she found someone to be happy with. After all Ginny had crushed on Harry like forever and he paid her no mind. Hermione couldn’t blame her for giving up on Harry. It was clear he had eyes for Cho Chang anyway. Hermione had seen them casting quick glances and nervous smiles in each others direction and it made her miss Draco even more. She had to try and make amends with him somehow. Perhaps she’d get him a gift.

She told the others she was going to do some shopping before hesding back to Hogwarts, the boys look less than thrilled. “It will be okay. I think I can manage by myself,” she explained, much to their apparent relief.
Something about boys and shopping just didn’t seem to work unless you were at Zonko’s Joke Shop. But she had something else in mind. Though Draco could be a prankster, for this occasion something more special was required. She wanted to go to Madame Boffery’s, a shop of mature men gifts. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly but it sure wasn’t an exploding whoopee cushion.

She watched Harry and Ron saunter away happily. They looked back a few times, and each time she waved. When she couldn’t see them anymore, she turned and made her way in the opposite direction.

Scene 27:

Hermione hadn’t lied. She had every intention of going to the shop and getting Draco a small present to act as a peace offering. But she never made it. As she rounded the corner from The Hog’s Head, Malfoy was already waiting. Wearing his usual black attire and a cloak emblazoned with the Slytherin crest, he was leaning against the wall. It was obvious he’d been waiting for her outside the meeting because he gently pushed himself away from the wall and stepped towatd her, a confidant swagger to his walk.

“Hermione,” he said. “You are absolutely…”

“I’m sorry Draco,” she blurted out, cutting him off. She couldn’t hold it any longer. Her guilt was overflowing inside her, and she had to offer whatever apologies she could to restore things to what they had been. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, really I didn’t,” she tried to explain, her voice cracking.

At first he looked confused, as if he’d forgotten and put the incident behind him already, but then he smiled. “It’s okay,” he breathed with a sigh. “It was nothing really.”

“Nothing? You haven’t spoken to me for days.”

Again that smile of his that made her weak. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

She could have slapped him. Absence what? How dare he put her through all this misery for nothing? She had been distraught and empty without him. If it hadn’t been for the meeting, she’d probably be back at her dorm beating herself up and trying not to cry her eyes out.

“Draco Malfoy,” she scolded, “you are the biggest…”

He took her in his arms and kissed her hard on her mouth. At first she thought of pushing him away as punishment, but she surrendered, welcoming his lips upon hers. He clutched her tightly, opened his mouth against her own, his tongue probing hungrily past her lips. The urgency surprised her. It was a little different than their other times together, but she liked it. Perhaps absence didnt just bring fondness, but desperation as well.

The world seemed to spin in his arms, but then she realized he was the one spinning, turning her, pushing her back against the wall. She felt herself pleasantly pinned and then his hands trailed down her body, across her breasts.

“Draco, wait, what are you…?”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered in her ear. One hand moved down to her stomach and lingered there. “I’ve waited too long to make love to you again.”

She closed her eyes. She knew they were in public, down a side street. Someone would see them. But the sensations threatened to overcome her. This was Draco. Wonderful, sexy Draco. He was kissing her. Touching her. Wanting to make love to her again. Suddenly, her mind snapped awake, as if out of some kind of hypnosis. Again?, she thought. But we’ve never made love. How can we do that again if we’d never gone that far in the first…She struggled in his grasp. “No, Draco. Stop.”

He didn’t listen, but leaned his body against her restricting her struggles. “I know you want to,” he whispered.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted from Draco, but it wasn’t this. She had to admit she’d thought of adult intimacy with him, but never ugly or violent. Lovemaking should be beautiful, not forced upon you. “Stop it!” she shouted. “Let me go, Draco!”

“Silencio,” he commanded, and all sound left her. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She called for help, but all that came back was a vaccum of quiet. She began to cry and Malfoy grinned wickedly. “Oh yes, cry, Hermione. I like that,” he sneered.

She closed her eyes against the assault, squeezing them shut, wishing more than anything that Draco would stop. And then he did. Not because she had willed it, prayed, or wished it though. For upon opening her eyes, she saw the point of a wand pushed into Draco’s cheek. At the other end, someone demanded angrily, “Get your damn hands off my girl.”

Draco froze. His hands relaxed. He was going to let her go. After all, why wouldn’t he? It was another Draco at the end of the wand. This one grimaced in disgust at the horrible version that had attacked Hermione. “You okay, baby?”

She sighed in relief. She nodded, signaling her yes, for her voice was still stolen.

“You should be grateful she is unharmed,” the real Draco said, his wand hand steady, his silver eyes glaring. “Otherwise I’d have to peel that devilishly handsome face right off you by hand.”

Love Is The Darkest Art 17

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 23:

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

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

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

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

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

Scene 24:

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

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

“Excuse me, Professor?”

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

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

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

“I hadn’t heard…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Me? I dont think….”

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

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

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

“I havent bern invited.”

“So crash it.”

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

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

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

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

Scene 25:

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

“Nagini,” he spake.

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

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


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

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

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

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

“You wished to see me, m’lord.”

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

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

“I wish you to bring me a…girl.”

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

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

Beneath his bony hand, Nagini stirred excitedly.