Tag Archives: young love

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 13

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fanfic Serial

Scene 18:

Swirling magic, spinning in slow circles, a couple spun beneath a cloak of invisibility in the halls of Hogwarts. Students and faculty alike moved among them, oblivious to their presence, the repelling charm keeping everyone from colliding with the hidden two. Under the cloak, Draco looked into Hermione’s brown eyes, upon which tears had formed. His own had grown glassy themselves, for this was their beautiful moment. Able to be together among a crowd of people. Able to be just like everyone else. Draco and Hermione could have the dance neither one of them took at last year’s yule ball. Though that was the moment Draco truly noticed her, he’d known not what to do then. But now it was different. Now they could dance all they wanted, unseen, unnoticed.

Hermione lay her head over on his shoulder, and Draco led them in a slow dance in the hallway. Whenever they drew close to other students, those schoolmates would move away, influenced by the repelling charm placed on the cloak. For the two young lovers it was as if the world were their dance floor and they were the only ones on it.

With one hand on her waist and the other holding the invisibility cloak in place, Draco swayed with Hermione as if there were a song only they could hear. And indeed there was. He sang it low in his breath against her ear.

“Touch me with your eyes
Hold me in your heart
Kiss me lightly on the lips
Love is the darkest art…”

She’d never heard the tune before, and she suspected he’d just made it up. But that was even better. It was the most beautiful song she’d ever heard, and it was all hers. Meant for no other ear save her own. He repeated the words in a slow rhythm that matched the swaying of their hips. Their bodies brushed against the other and both their breaths caught in their throat as if electricity passed softly through their veins instead of blood. In that moment she lifted her head from his shoulder and nuzzled her lips against his neck.

Draco responded with a kiss against her flushed cheek. Then he whispered, “I believe we are closer than eight inches.”

They had managed to drift in their dance to the side of the hall where a large poster had been placed announcing the latest Educational Decree that no students were allowed to be closer than eight inches to each other.

“I want to be closer,” he added softly.

She smiled nervously. “Then why don’t you?”

He lowered his eyes, afraid to look in hers at that moment. He touched her face with his fingertips and closed his eyes.

“You are so beautiful, Hermione. Why did it take me so long to notice?” He sighed and then opened his eyes once more. “I look at you and I want…”

“Want what?” she breathed, when he hesitated.

“I want this. To last forever.” His fingers traced a heart upon her cheek. “When I look at you, I see my heart, everything that I want it to be, reflected in your face.” His finger drew a line down to the side of her neck. “I am so scared I can never be all that you desire.”

“You already are,” she replied softly tilting her head so that her neck was bared to him. His lips grazed her skin, his fingertips still drawing make believe lines on the flesh of her neck. His kiss found her throat and a tingling sensation cascaded down her body, as his fingers followed it to her collar.

She found herself lost in his touch, and she couldn’t help what came next, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and disappearing inside, feeling his bare chest against the palm of her hand. He trembled slightly and she liked the effect she had on him. Her fingertips drew her name against his chest in time to the rise and fall of his breathing. Butterflies seemed to make a nest in her stomach as Draco put his hand upon the top button of her uniform. Then he stopped. Someone was standing right in front of them.

Hermione nearly let out a gasp. Draco put a hand over her mouth to silence her. The person, a tall imposing adult, was standing mere inches away, seeming to look right at them but not saying a thing. The man wore all black, his robe nearly touching the floor. His long black hair hung straight against the sides of his pale cheeks and the scowl on his face seemed permanent.

No one said a word at first, seconds passing like a sped up stopwatch, a countdown to being reprimanded severely, as was this Professor’s way. Severus Snape muttered, “eight…inches,” pronouncing each word slow and precise. “How…engaging.”

At first, they thought he was talking to them, but Draco quickly realized he was not looking at them at all, but at the spot beyond them. The educational decree on the wall. He couldn’t see them in their invisibility cloak, but still they held their breaths, until Snape turned.

“What will she think of next?” Snape muttered to himself. “Under Secretary git.”
Then he turned back to eye the poster once more. “Intelligent students need to be careful here on out.” Then with a sweeping flourish of his dark robes, he spun on a booted heel and proceeded down the corridor.

Hermione let out a bated breath and whispered, “Was he talking to us?”

“I…don’t…know,” Draco replied, watching Professor Snape until he disappeared around a corner. He turned to look at Hermione. “He couldn’t have seen us. But it seemed as if he knew we were here.”

“Maybe he could detect our presence, but didn’t know who it was.”

Draco shook his head. “Oh, he knew.”

“How do you know that?”

Draco looked at her with a smirk on his lips. “He said intelligent students, didn’t he?”

Scene 19:

Severus Snape descended the stairs down into the lowest levels of Hogwarts. The dungeon depths housed the potion master’s class, but this hour there were no lessons, nor students. Only silence, candlelight, and the occasional stirring of a rat or caged raven. He sat down behind his desk and pulled a sheaf of parchment from the top drawer. He set it on the desk and produced his quill, dipping it in a blotter off gray ink.

“Old friend,” he wrote. “In regards to the matter you discussed with me late yesterday evening, I have looked into the alleged events and can say with a good deal of confidence that they never occured in the way it was presented to you. I have seen no evidence of collusion with the said individual. In fact, they both appear as they always have: with a disdain for the other’s achievements and attitudes. Furthermore new educational decrees from the ministry are in place to assure the focus of all students are on their studies and not each other. However, I will continue to monitor your son’s behavior and intervene as you’ve requested if I should see him acting in a manner that would bring embarrassment to the house of Malfoy.”

He set the quill down on the desktop. Producing his wand from inside his cloak, he uttered a few words under his breath and passed it over the letter. The words sank deeper into the parchment, fading against it until they disappeared.

He rolled up the letter and sealed it with candle wax. There was no reason to push his ring signet into the wax, as he didn’t sign the missive anyway. He scooted his chair back and stood. He looked up at the ceiling. Somewhere floors above him, Draco Malfoy was following in his footsteps. He shook his head.

“Why is it always a mudblood?” he muttered to the dank dungeon’s emptiness.

Love Is The Darkest Art 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

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.”


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

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

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

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

“If you can read my lips.”

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

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

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

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

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


Love Is The Darkest Art 4

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 5:

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

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

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

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

“If we get caught…” he began.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want,” she dared to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lovers,” he finished.

Scene 6:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miss Granger!”

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

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

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

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

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

Love Is The Darkest Art 3

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione Fan Fic Serial

Scene 4:

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

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

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

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

“What are you staring at, Malfoy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ron? Don’t be ridiculous…”

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

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

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

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

Krum looked at Malfoy and raised a thick eyebrow.

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

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

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