Tag Archives: harry potter

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…”

“You?”

“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.

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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 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 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.”

“Yessssss…”

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

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

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

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

“You wished to see me, m’lord.”

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

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

“I wish you to bring me a…girl.”

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

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

Beneath his bony hand, Nagini stirred excitedly.

Love Is The Darkest Art 16

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 22:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scene 23:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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