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Love Is The Darkest Art 9

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 13:

The rain seemed to be slowing down, the storm letting up enough to let other outside noises into the loving sanctum of the tent. Up until the moment she heard them, it seemed the mere feel of Draco’s lips against her own cancelled out everything. But the steady calling of, “Hermione, Hermione,” now peppered with “Where are you,” brought her out of the pleasant emotional cocoon she and Draco had weaved.

They both pulled away, realizing in the same instant someone was looking for them, or Hermione at least. “Oh no,” she exclaimed, the fear of getting caught again in her voice. She adjusted her clothing quickly, more from habit than necessity. Draco had been a gentleman after all.

Looking at him as he peered out the open tent flap, Hermione asked, “Are they close?”

“Getting there,” he replied solemnly. “We’re not going to have time to take this down and send it back.” He looked at her and offered her his best mischievous smile. “We’ll have to hide it and come back for it later ”

“I’ll look forward to that,” she said and kissed him quickly.

“Hermione! If you can hear us, send a flare. We’ll find you!”

The shouting voice that interrupted them sounded familiar. Within minutes it would be in front of them. When another shout came, but in a squeakier tone, she realized there were at least two of them, and she knew who they were.

“It’s Harry and Ron,” she told Draco.

“Oh, just great,” her Slytherin boyfriend lamented, pulling her out of the tent. He produced his wand, uttered a spell and watched the tent disappear from sight. He squeezed Hermione’s hand and then let it go. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?”

He looked to the treeline in front of them just as Harry and Ron came through the brush. He turned back to Hermione and an anguished look crossed his face. For a second she wondered why his eyes were welling up with tears. Then he pointed his wand at her, yelling “Stupefy!”

The force of the charm hit her before she could even realize what he’d done. She staggered backwards in a daze. Her head felt as if she were spinning and she lost her balance landing on her back. Despite her addled state, the impact seemed less than it should have been and the charm didn’t knock her out, just disoriented her a bit.

“Alarte Ascendare!”

The spell from Harry’s wand sent Draco high into the air. So high that he found his head in the tree branches and limbs of the wood. He let out an alarming yelp as he diseappeared into the foliage.

Ron ran to Hermione’s aid. “Hey, you okay?” he asked worriedly, helping her to her feet.

Still dazed from Draco’s charm, she could do nothing more than shake her head left to right.

“You’re not?” Ron turned to Harry. “Zap him again!”

Harry turned his wand upward, but he couldn’t see Draco amongst the branches overhead. His eyes scanned the trees but there didn’t seem to be any sign of Hermione’s attacker. “I don’t see him, Ron! Where did….”

A heavy jet stream of water struck Potter in the back. The force was enough to move him, shoving his feet across the ground toward a large tree, it’s trunk twice the size of Harry. He knew he didn’t have time for a counter charm. He dropped his wand and stopped himself from colliding into the tree with his bare hands. An “oomph” came from his throat, but he turned to face his nemesis.

Draco stood there wand outstretched, but he didn’t fire again. Harry was unnarmed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron holding Hermione up with one hand and starting to point his wand with the other. Draco levelled the tip of his wand in Ron’s direction as the ginger haired boy moved himself in front of Hermione to protect her. He could see her eyes just over Ron’s shoulder, and they implored him to stop the charade and flee.

Draco fired at Ron’s feet. A spurt of dirt and mud shot up, temporarily obstructing his view. When Ron deflected the spray, Draco was gone.

“Get after him!” Ron shouted angrily.

Harry snatched up his wand from where he dropped it, but before he could head off in pursuit, Hermione said, “No! Don’t…”

Her voice came out tired and weak, but it was enough to make both boys stop.

“What?” Ron looked at her, an incredible look on his face. “He attacked you!”

She hung her head so she wouldnt have to look in his face and lie. “I attacked first,” she said. Still on wobbly legs from Draco’s purposedly diminished Stupefy spell, she looked off into the forest in the direction the Slytherin had gone. “Let him go.”

Harry shook his head as he walked towards her, returning his wand to coat. “I don’t always get you, Hermione. Especially here lately. One minute you are suggesting I teach everybody defense of dark arts, the next you are hanging out in the woods with the school’s worse practitioner of it.”

“We weren’t hanging out. I needed some air and so I went out walking by Hagrid’s Hut. That made me sadder, knowing he wasn’t there and so I went into the woods…to be alone.”

“You didn’t look alone a minute ago,” Ron countered, his face a little more redder than usual.

For a brief moment, Hermione had wondered if they’d seen something. Had they seen her emerge from the now hidden tent with Draco? Harry was checking out their surroundings as if looking for something. Had she and Draco kissed outside the tent? She couldn’t remember.

“I was just standing wondering which way to go and a noise startled me so I turned and cast towards it. It was Draco. He deflected it, looked at me a moment and fired back. See, it’s all my fault.”

They both looked at her and she wondered if they saw through her lie. She thought it eas pretty good. If Umbridge managed to flunk her and Draco out of Hogwarts, she supposed she could take up acting in the muggle world.

“I heard him cast a Stupefy charm,” Harry finally said, looking at Ron.

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione. “But you don’t look very stupefied. ”

Hermione registered a look of hurt. “What is wrong with you guys? I appreciate the rescue, but stop acting like I’m making out with the enemy.”

They both looked at each other, then at their friend. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said. “We didn’t mean anything. We were just worried. Maybe Draco didn’t have the time to work up a full charm.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “Worried that’s all. We’ll let Mcgonagal sort Draco out.”

Hermione thought to protest again, to try and
get them to promise not to tell, but that would be even more suspicious. She’d never protected Draco before. To do so now would reveal the secret. “I just want to go back to Hogwarts,” she said.

As they all walked back through the woods, Hermione wondered where Draco was. Had he returned to school? Was he watching them now? Or was he in Slytherin bragging to his friends that they’d made out? No, he wouldn’t do that. Pansy would turn him in for sure. If Hermione could keep the secret, she felt certain Draco could too. He hadn’t betrayed them yet.

But still, there was a sense of betrayal in the air. After all, Harry and Ron didn’t just randomly pick the woods to search for Hermione. Neville had told them he saw her go in there…carried in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

Scene 14:

The couple had just sat down to dinner. Placing napkins in their dark garbed laps, the man looked up at the clock on the wall. He peered at it with complete disdain as if time were his enemy. “Where is he,” he mumbled in an angry tone. “I told him we would dine together tonight. He didn’t have to put up with that ignorant rabble he calls friends.”

The woman smiled condescending, yet guarded. “I’m sure he’ll come, dear,” she replied, just as the doorbell rang. “See, there he is now…”

The man slid his chair bsck and stood. Tall and lean, he adjusted his waistcoat, flipping the tails behind him. With a flip of his long white hair, he stepped out into the foyer, his black boots thudding on the cobblestone floor.

“Your excuse better be a good one,” he declared loudly as he flung open the front door so hard it banged the outside wall.

“Oh it is,” grinned Dolores Umbridge as she stood on the front porch wrapped in a heavy coat that nearly swallowed her dimunitive frame. She looked up at Lucius Malfoy. “Indeed it is.”

(Paul’s note: Completely unrelated to this fanfic, but I wanted readers to know I have another blog I have just begun called, Paul Reads. Featuring book talk and reviews, it will include in progress commentary on books I’m reading. Check it out at Paul Reads Too

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Love Is The Darkest Art 8

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 12:

The afternoon skies were producing dark clouds. Rain was building up but had yet to let loose its torrent. Draco carried Hermione across the field next to Hagrid’s hut and into the woods. He had to get her to someplace secluded where she could breathe again and they could relax. He hoped the trees and their thick leaves would keep the coming storm off of them. The wind was picking up way too fast and he felt the first few sprinkles of rain.

Cradling her with one arm, he reached out with his other. “Accio parasol,” he commanded and an umbrella appeared in his hand. He hoped his mother Narcissa didn’t mind, as it was hers, but it was the only one he could conjure in his mind at the moment. He flicked the umbrella open, but before he could get it over their heads, the wind caught it and carried it off into the sky. After a moment, watching the umbrella change direction in the air he realized his mother had enchanted it to return to her in the event it was lost.

Draco readjusted carrying Hermione in his arms and she looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed red from her tears and there was a look of fear in her pupils. It wasn’t a fear of him, but of losing him. She could have swore that before he had picked her up he had said he must let her go. She opened her mouth to say something about it, but then the skies opened sending the storm down upon them with fury.

He set her down. “Come on, run,” he said and he led her deeper into the dark wood. He took her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers as they sought some form of shelter under the canopy of trees. Unfortunately, they were already drenched, hair wet and matted against their faces, clothes soaked through and shoes filled up with rain as if they were teacups.

“Accio tent!” Hermione shouted with a wave of her wand, and a small tent appeared. It was one she had seen in the window of a shop in Diagon Alley. Normally she would have considered this an act of theft, and therefore wrong, but perhaps her association with Malfoy was wearing off on her too. It’s only borrowing, she told herself, as Draco used his own wand to draw the tree branches closer to conceal it.

They scrambled inside and landed on the mossy ground, as the tent had no floor, just sides and its sharply angled roof.

“Where in the world did that come from?” Draco exclaimed, crawling towards the tent’s open flap to get a better view of the storm.

“I dont know,” Hermione sighed. “But I’m drenched.”

He turned to look at her. “So am I, but you have a way of looking beautiful in any sort of weather.”

She blushed. ‘Draco, I….”

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. She froze. “This may be uncomfortable, but necessary,” he said. Before she could pull out her own wand to defend herself he uttered a few words low in his voice and a rush of hot air hit her. It wasn’t enough to knock her back, but the heat that emanated in a stream from the tip of his wand was still intrusive. Waving it just inches away from her, he traced the lines of her body as if he were a sculptor trying to capture every curve to memory. And though it was mildly erotic, the slow meticulous motion of his hand, he never touched her, but instead let the warmth of the charm dry her wet clothes while she wore them.

Down her body he allowed his wand to work, moving over her stomach, down her legs, and ending at her shoes.

“Turn,” he commanded,and as she did he dried her back and hood, moving up to her head to dry her hair just as easily as if he were Hogwarts personal hairdresser.

“Close your eyes” he said, and waved the wand over her face, gently drying cheeks, chin, eyebrows, and nose. After he moved it over her lips, he placed his own mouth softly against hers, letting it linger for a few moments. “Don’t want your lips getting too dry,” he explained with a sly smile.

Hermione finally relaxed and looked at his wand as he moved it across his own body in the same sort of fashion. “I thought you were going to hurt me,” she said with a heavy sigh.
“I thought maybe Umbridge…”

“Don’t worry about her. We are still a secret for now.”

“Just what is our secret, Draco? I don’t understand what is happening to us…I don’t think anyone could understand this…”

He smiled. “No one has to. Not even us. Sometimes you just want what you want. And you hope the rest just falls into place.”

“But I’m so confused. I don’t know what I want.”

He reached out his hand and touched her cheek. “It’s okay. We’re not supposed to know. All I know in all this is I can’t stay away from you. I can’t bear the thought of not getting lost in your eyes anymore.”

“Draco, Umbridge saw us. Neville almost saw us. If we continue this …”

“If? There is no if for me, Hermione. There is only you, me, and to hell with anyone else.”

She shook her head. “But why? For years you have hated me.”

“Is that what you think? I never hated you, Granger. Jealous, envious maybe. Hell I was a kid when we met. I didn’t know how to express the fact I liked you. All I knew how to do was pick on you. But now I know how to express my strange, new emotions. Maybe I’m growing up, or just growing into you. Either way, I never hated you. In fact, quite the opposite. Hermione, I…”

She put her open hand over his mouth. “Don’t Draco, dont you say it. If you say it, I will ..”
She let her unfinished sentence hang in the air, as Draco gently removed her hand from his mouth.

“Okay, I won’t say it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t feel it.”

Hermione blinked back the tears that were starting to form around her eyes again. “We shouldn’t feel this way. We shouldn’t be here…not together like…”

He kissed her. Perhaps it was his way of telling her to stop rambling and shut up. Or maybe it was because he did feel something. That all those years he had picked on her was like a boy on a playground pulling the little girl’s pigtails because he liked her. No matter the reason, his lips were warm against hers, causing Hermione to forget her confusions and uncertainties.

She allowed herself to sink into his arms and he pulled her close. His mouth opened against hers and she responded with the very longings she would deny, wrapping herself around him and letting their kiss carry them far from the storm, the cold, the very impossibility of this moment.

They remained like that for awhile, so close if one had seen them they would have thought them one entity, instead of two. Lips melted hot against the other, tongues twisted pleasantly, exchanging breath for breath. Eyes opened and closed with their competing heartbeats. When both managed to open at once, they caught the adoring gaze of the other and renewed their amorous fervor. The real world, such as it was, swam around their heads, while within their intimate kisses all that existed was this fantasy, breathing life into them like never before.

Eventually however, it was breath they needed and their lips parted so that he could whisper her name, “Hermione Jean…”

She looked at him surprised. “You know my middle name?”

He smiled. “Always.” Though it had never been revealed in his presence, nor had anyone spoke it before like that, it was apparent he’d paid more interest in her than she ever imagined.

“Say it again.”

“Hermione Jean.”

“To hell with breathing,” she said and kissed him again. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, so that she were slightly above him, kissing down to him and his upturned face. She put both palms against his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands, as his own held her aloft from her bottom. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

A crack of thunder erupted in the distance, but it didn’t startle or concern them. The resounding echo of the rain against the tent sounded out the time that escaped them. And yet, if they’d been listening to anything other than their own sighs and whispers, they would have heard voices calling from somewhere out in the wood, “Hermione, Hermione!”

Love Is The Darkest Art 7

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 10

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

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

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

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

“Professor Umbridge,” he repeated.

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

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

“Do you understand me, Draco?”

“I’m not sure, Professor Umbridge. ”

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

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

“Do you know why I am here?”

Draco shook his head.

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

“You want me to spy for the ministry?”

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

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

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

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

“Draco Malfoy? Do we…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scene 11:

“What’s wrong with you?”

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

“Excuse me?” She looked up at Ron.

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

She nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah I heard that. Congratulations, Ron.”

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

“Why would he be mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love Is The Darkest Art 5

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 7:

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

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

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

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

“To which you were daydreaming.”

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

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

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

“Certainly, child. What is it?”

“I’m not sure if you can help me.”

“I can try.”

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

“Causing you to lose sleep?”

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

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

“Love? No wait, i didn’t mean…”

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

“Um, I had heard….”

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

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

“But you married him, right?”

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

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

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

I’m almost certain it is, thought Hermione.

Scene 8:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“If you can read my lips.”

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

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

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

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

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

TO BE CONTINUED…

Love Is The Darkest Art 3

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 4:

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

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

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

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

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ron? Don’t be ridiculous…”

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

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

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

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

Krum looked at Malfoy and raised a thick eyebrow.

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

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

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

Love Is The Darkest Art Part 2

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 3:

Draco Malfoy shoved his way out of the library. Rounding the corner he let out a long baited breath. Leaning against the wall, he looked at the palm of his hand, discerning the place Hermione’s lips had been against it as he held her mouth shut. He closed his eyes for a moment and he could almost see her image behind his eyelids. He shook his head as if he were trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. He opened his eyes just in time to see Neville leaving the library, a couple of books in his hands. Normally, Draco would have done something. Made fun of him, tripped him up, something. But instead he let him pass by unmolested. Once the boy was out of sight, Draco clenched his fists and returned to the library.

Hermione was gone. She wasn’t where he left her. He checked a few nearby aisles and there was no sign of her. This puzzled the Slytherin boy. She hadn’t left by the main doors. He’d been standing there. How did she manage to evade him? The answer was simple. She still had to be in the library. Somewhere.

He made his way back to the front desk. Perhaps she was checking out some books or something. But no one was at the desk. Even Madam Pince was gone. This made no sense at all. And so Draco wandered up and down the aisles. He thought of calling out her name, or at least whispering it. But he thought if someone else heard him they would wonder why he was calling her name. So instead he moved silently among the shelves, trying to catch a glimpse of where she’d disappeared to.

After some time he gave up. He returned to the divination aisle where he’d first found her. He started scanning the shelves though he knew Umbridge had removed a large number of books from the section.

“What were you looking for?” he mumbled to himself.

Just then there was movement to his left. It startled him, but he didn’t jump. After all it was Hermione. At last. With a toss of her brown hair she walked down the aisle towards him.

“You know,” she said, “the next time you come looking for me…”

“I wasn’t looking for you.”

She smirked. “Okay then, next time we meet..”

“This wasn’t a meeting.” Then he smirked back. He was better at it than she. “I don’t even like you, Granger.”

“And I like you even less,” she replied quietly.

He nodded, taking a step closer. So close there were only inches between them. “Then let’s keep it that way,” he agreed.

Before she could make another retort, he kissed her, full yet light on the lips. Hermione closed her eyes and let it settle there. This wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but it was the longest, his lips barely leaving hers before pressing them once again, his mouth pleasantly parting with hers, tongues briefly touching as he took her into his embrace, one hand touching her cheek, the other resting lightly on her throat.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, gently pulling him to her so that even air couldn’t pass between their bodies. She leaned her face into his hand and imagined his long fingers lingering on her forever. The fact they were in the library seemed to fall away from her, replaced with the single thought of floating on clouds high up in a starry night sky, two lovers entwined in the darkness where no one could see.

Draco pulled himself slowly from her kiss. “You know I adore you, right?” When she nodded, he added, “No matter what I say in front of others, you are my true magic, mudblood.”

She smiled. While it seemed an insult to call her that in public, in private it meant something different to her. It was about her uniqueness, the strange, unexplainable blending of their two souls, one of purety, the other of fault.

“I…,” she tried to say. “I..I am so…”

“Shhhh,” he whispered and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but melt against him, the silence in the library contrasting with the steady, overpowering thrum of their hearts keeping time against the other.

TO BE CONTINUED?

Paul’s note: My apologies this part is so short. I’ll do better next time 😉

Love Is The Darkest Art Part 1

Okay, it’s been awhile since i shared any writing, so here we go with something different, my Harry Potter themed fan fic project. I guess most aspiring or serious writers wouldn’t spend the time to write something they could never publish or monetize, but for me fan fic serves several purposes. For one, in writing fan fic you get the chance to celebrate and immerse yourself in something that obviously inspires you to be a writer. Two, it is awesome writing practice, helping you build on pre-existing characters and themes. And three, it has the potential to attract others who would not otherwise discover your other works.

So with that said, I have found myself attending a Hogwarts where Bad boy Draco Malfoy discovers he has a very soft spot Hermione Granger in year 5 and together they embark on a secret romance while new professor Dolores Umbridge would like nothing more than destroy them both.

It’s called “Love is the darkest art” , so let us begin, shall we? All comments, critique, and discussions about my take on this, or about Potter fandom in general is more than welcome. And yes, I know this isn’t for everyone, and there will be haters, but hey it’s just storytelling, folks…relax 😉

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fan fic serial

Scene 1:

“Granger,” the voice said, and she froze. Though her back was to him she knew that voice. The only one that gave her cold chills, that invaded her dreams with sweats of cruelty and irritation. She turned.

“Malfoy,” Hermoine scoffed, dismissing him with a glare. She looked first at Ron, then Harry, before she dared to meet Draco’s usual insult. Yesterday it was about her muggle parents, the day before it was about her secondhand wardrobe. Today it was probably her hair or something. Stupid insults from a sixteen year old immature scoundrel.

“Congratulations on becoming prefect,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Perhaps now you can do what you do best and be snooty and boss others around.”

He looked at his two companions, Crabbe and Goyle and snickered. “Snooty,” snorted Crabbe. “Bossy,” agreed Goyle.

Hermoine didn’t even afford Draco’s cronies a glance. They were just mindless sheep. No she instead directed her ire at Malfoy himself. “Well at least i earned the title. Everything you earn comes as a gift from your father.”

“Ooh,” winced Harry, adjusting his glasses.

“Good one,” whispered Ron.

Draco Malfoy however was livid. The permanent sneer that was usually on his face disappeared. He looked at Hermoine with cold, vengeful eyes.

“One day Granger,” he snarled. “You won’t be around your friends. You’ll be alone and unprotected. We’ll see how funny you are then.”

He pushed past her, his shoulder bumping her own so hard it nearly knocked her down.

“Hey,” Harry shouted before both Crabbe and Goyle bumped into him in the same fashion. Harry staggered slightly but still protested. “We’ll turn you in!”

The trio of thugs just kept walking and didnt look back. Harry turned to Hermoine who was holding her shoulder where Malfoy had bumped her. “You’re a prefect now. You should report them.”

Hermoine shook her head. “It wouldn’t do any good. He’d just say I insulted his father. Lucius has the school in his pocket.”

Ron grumbled. “Yeah, and Umbridge would probably reward Draco with a free trip to…”

“Hello Harry,” a soft voice spoke as it passed. Seeing the blond wisps of hair flying in all directions, Harry knew exactly who it was. That, and the fact the person carried an open umbrella on a perfectly dry day, told him it was Luna Lovegood. But before he could even respond, she was gone, disappearing in the crowd of students who lingered outside of classes.

“Shes weird,” Ron said.

“At least she’s consistent,” Harry replied. After all, everytime she saw him she greeted him formally. He kind of liked the celebrity. This year, his fifth, had started out with the negative fallout from Cedric Diggiry’s death. Though it happened at the end of the previous school year, it was still much the talk among students and garnered Harry plenty of suspicious looks. So any kind of good greeting was fine by Potter.

“She’s not weird,” Hermoine said. “It’s just no one understands her.” She looked down the hallway where Draco and his pals had gone.

Harry patted her on her back. “Oh, don’t worry, Hermoine, we understand you.”

She smiled and turned to look at her truest friends. “I know, guys. You both are wonderful.”

Ron made a face.

Scene 2:

Hermoine turned off a corridor on the first floor and entered the library. At this time of day not many students frequented the great room that housed thousand upon thousands of books. Madam Irma Pince sat behind a large oak desk, sifting through some ancient parchments laid out across the top. She looked up and noticed Hermoine, who was a frequent visitor to the world of Hogwart’s volumes and tomes. Hermoine gives her her usual friendly wave and heads into the aisles. On an apparent search down the thin rows of shelves, anyone could tell she wasn’t just looking for any old book, or even something casual to picque her interest in her spare hours. She was on a serious mission.

She rounded a corner and went down the Divination aisle, hoping to find something useful to answer the questions in her head this particular morning, and many before. Looking at the titles on the shelf, she was confused. Where the books on divination should be there were very few titles. When she had last visited the library there were countless tomes on the subject. Now there were only a few dozen if that. There were still books on the history of the craft, or profiles on great teachers, but there no spell books, encyclopedias of incantations, nothing to instruct the student on practicing the art of seeing into the future and all its possibilities. This troubled her on several levels. For one, though she wasn’t into divining her own future, there was something she wanted to know, a curiosity that bugged her on things to come or not. But someone didn’t want the students to practice this. No one could have checked out all the books and then reshuffled the shelves to make it appear as if they had never been there. Was this Umbridge’s doing? She knew she’d changed the curriculum of the dark arts class and was no longer teaching defensive techniques, but had she somehow managed to remove books she didn’t want students to read as well?

Out of curiosity, Hermione thought she’d check other subjects as well. She walked briskly up and down other aisles, trying to determine what was missing until she finally came to the section of books for defense of the dark arts. In shock, she saw there were only two. What is going on, she thought to herself, reaching for one of the volumes. She lay her hand on it, started to pull it off the shelf, when to her surprise it pulled away from her and set itself back in line with the other books on the shelf. She reached for the other volume, touched its spine, and it jerked away from her as if it had a life of its own, or was enchanted by a spell. When she reached for yet another book, she hesitated and didn’t touch it. The book pulled away anyway. This was no spell she realized. The actions of these books had a human agent. And they were in the next aisle over.

She ran to the end of the aisle and popped her head around the corner. Charging into the aisle she stopped short. Someone was standing there, leaning against the shelf, arms crossed with a malicious smirk on his face. He turned to the shelf and slid the book he’d pulled from her side back into place. He took a step towards her, haughty and proud, and flipped a pale lock out of his face.

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione whispered.

“You know, mudblood, that was a cheap shot earlier about my dad.”

“You know how I feel about your father,” she replied.

He shrugged. “And how he feels about you.” He waited a moment, and then added, “How I feel about you.”

Hermione closed her eyes for a second and then looked at Draco. She opened her mouth to say something, but in a swift motion he covered her lips with his hand. “Shhh, it’s Umbridge.”

He pushed her against the shelf, nearly pinning her to the wooden rack with his body. He was close enough that she could feel Draco’s breath at the side of her face. She felt it on the bare skin of her neck and she closed her eyes for a moment, struggling slightly for him to release her.

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “She’ll hear us. She’s been removing books for several days now. If she catches us, we’ll get detention.” Then he let out a quiet laugh. “Not only the damage to both our reputations.”

A noise shuffled from the next aisle over. Someone was looking through the books. The slow shuffle of their feet let Hermione know the person was moving off. But instead of moving away, the person came around the corner and Draco let her go, releasing her from his grip. She quickly put a few feet between them as Neville Longbottom stood there staring at them.

No one said anything for a moment, and then Draco glared at Hermione. “Watch your back, Granger,” he snarled. “I’m not done with you yet.” Then he pushed past Neville, bumping his shoulder as he went by.

“Nor I with you, jerk,” Hermione called after him.

Scene 3:

Draco Malfoy shoved his way out of the library. Rounding the corner he let out a long baited breath. Leaning against the wall, he looked at the palm of his hand, discerning the place Hermione’s lips had been against it as he held her mouth shut. He closed his eyes for a moment and he could almost see her image behind his eyelids. He shook his head as if he were trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. He opened his eyes just in time to see Neville leaving the library, a couple of books in his hands. Normally, Draco would have done something. Made fun of him, tripped him up, something. But instead he let him pass by unmolested. Once the boy was out of sight, Draco clenched his fists and returned to the library.

Hermione was gone. She wasn’t where he left her. He checked a few nearby aisles and there was no sign of her. This puzzled the Slytherin boy. She hadn’t left by the main doors. He’d been standing there. How did she manage to evade him? The answer was simple. She still had to be in the library. Somewhere.

He made his way back to the front desk. Perhaps she was checking out some books or something. But no one was at the desk. Even Madam Pince was gone. This made no sense at all. And so Draco wandered up and down the aisles. He thought of calling out her name, or at least whispering it. But he thought if someone else heard him they would wonder why he was calling her name. So instead he moved silently among the shelves, trying to catch a glimpse of where she’d disappeared to.

After some time he gave up. He returned to the divination aisle where he’d first found her. He started scanning the shelves though he knew Umbridge had removed a large number of books from the section.

“What were you looking for?” he mumbled to himself.

Just then there was movement to his left. It startled him, but he didn’t jump. After all it was Hermione. At last. With a toss of her brown hair she walked down the aisle towards him.

“You know,” she said, “the next time you come looking for me…”

“I wasn’t looking for you.”

She smirked. “Okay then, next time we meet..”

“This wasn’t a meeting.” Then he smirked back, though he was better at it than she. “I don’t even like you, Granger.”

“And I like you even less,” she replied quietly.

He nodded, taking a step closer. So close there were only inches between them. “Then let’s keep it that way,” he agreed.

Before she could make another retort, he kissed her, full and light on the lips. Hermione closed her eyes and let it settle there. This wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but it was the longest, his lips barely leaving hers before pressing them once again, his mouth pleasantly parting with hers, tongues briefly touching as he took her into his embrace, one hand touching her cheek, the other resting lightly on her throat.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, gently pulling him to her so that even air couldn’t pass between their bodies. She leaned her face into his hand and imagined his long fingers touching her bare skin in other places. The fact they were in the library seemed to fall away from her, replaced with the single thought of floating on clouds high up in a starry night sky, two lovers entwined in the darkness where no one could see.

Draco pulled himself slowly from her kiss. “You know I adore you, right?” When she nodded, he added, “No matter what I say in front of others, you are my true magic, mudblood.”

She smiled. While it seemed an insult to call her that in public, in private it meant something different to her. It was about her uniqueness, the strange, unexplainable blending of their two souls, one of purety, the other of fault.

“I…,” she tried to say. “I..I am so…”

“Shhhh,” he whispered and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but melt against him, the silence in the library contrasting with the steady, overpowering thrum of their hearts keeping time against the other.

Scene 4:

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

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

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

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

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ron? Don’t be ridiculous…”

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

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

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

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

Krum looked at Malfoy and raised a thick eyebrow.

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

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

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

To Be Continued