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Beauty and the Beast	By : Nocturne Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 14407 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. I do not own the Harry Potter fandom, nor do I make any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Hermione grabbed at her breasts and tossed her hair from side to side as she rode him into a mutual climax. Her body quivered, and she could feel her bones turn to air. She sunk low and found his lips in a sweaty kiss. They were still in his study, on top of his desk, which he had cleared with one giant swipe.
She slowly climbed off and found her dress on the floor. “I think we should do the spell a little later.”
“Sounds good to me,” yawned Draco, slipping into his own clothes. “By the way, that came out of nowhere.”
Hermione smiled to herself. “It did, didn’t it?”
“I’m not complaining.” The young man wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in for another kiss. “I’m still surprised you can look at me without getting sick.”
She frowned. “Stop that.”
“Stop what? It’s the truth. I’m just – I know what I look like and I know it’s definitely not the way I used to look before and –”
“ – And it doesn’t matter,” she finished. “It never did.”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I was attractive before?”
“Well – no. That’s not true. I just – well – I mean.” Hermione stumbled over her words, avoiding his smug looks. “You were attractive, aesthetically speaking, but I didn’t know the real you enough to allow myself the realization.”
“Nice answer,” he regarded, fastening his cloak. “You should become a politician.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Like you haven’t been ogled enough.”
“You’re one to talk,” he scoffed.
“Ha!”
“What?” Draco asked. “Plenty of blokes would’ve made a pass at you had it not been for Potter.”
“Harry?” Hermione raised both eyebrows. “What about Ronald?”
Draco laughed to himself. “I’ll tell you this one time and one time only.” He faced her, looking completely serious. “You chose the wrong one.”
“I beg your pardon…?”
“You chose the wrong one,” he repeated. “You may have had feelings for Weasley, which is fully justifiable as the stupidity of ones adolescent mind, but believe it or not, Potter had eyes for you, too.”
This time Hermione laughed. “Harry is a brother to me and always has been. Simple as that.”
Draco shook his head, as if to dismiss her statement. “Always?” he asked. “I doubt that’s true. The only reason you went off with Weasley instead of Potter is because you were scared, and you already knew Weasley had a thing for you. The bloody oaf practically shat himself during the Yule Ball, when you walked down the staircase.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course I did,” he regarded. “I can still remember the way Pansy dug her nails into my hand when she saw me staring at you.”
Hermione thought back to the memory in question, and realized Draco had been staring at her. She figured at the time it had something to do with Krum by her side, but his rendition told her otherwise. “That was an interesting night.”
“What did you get up to?”
“Made out with Krum in the Astronomy Tower,” she smiled. “It was a full moon and snow had just begun to fall.”
“Magical,” mocked Draco. “My night was a little different.”
Hermione bit her lip in thought, raising one finger. “Let me guess. You lost your virginity to Pansy.”
The former Slytherin broke out into a fit of hysterical laughter. He gripped a nearby chair for support. “That’s rich,” he sighed, fighting the chuckles. “I wouldn’t go near that broad with a ten foot pole, let alone my own.”
“Which is definitely not ten feet,” mumbled Hermione.
Draco ignored her. “The whole Pansy thing happened out of boredom. She was there. My parents liked her. It was convenient.”
“Hmm.” Hermione’s thoughts rested on the last word. “That sounds familiar.”
“I figured it would, and it was your relationship with him you thought of when I read you that quote earlier. Am I right?”
She nodded. “Ronald was right for me at the time. We needed each other. Harry was…so detached from the real world, and I don’t blame him considering his life was on the line. Ron and I helped him through it, and I would never change that, but it was nice to be close to someone who knew exactly what I was going through.”
“Is that why you never bothered with Potter? His head was in the clouds.”
“Something like that,” she shrugged. In truth, Hermione had only ever contemplated her friendship with Harry once. “Ron had left during our journey in what was supposed to be Seventh Year. I was quite vulnerable and Harry was the only other person there. There was this one moment, we just looked at each other and we both realized it was completely possible that we’d end up dead.”
“I know what you mean,” he remarked. “I had a similar moment, right here actually.” Draco thought back. “At the time this was my father’s study. He’d been in a meeting with some fellow Death Eaters preceding the attack on Hogwarts, and he called me in for a moment.”
“You don’t have to tell me this,” Hermione offered, noticing the change in his expression.
“You deserve to know,” he said sharply. “It was the day they brought you here.”
She paled.
“I – I was called in the study and my father told me we had guests in the Dining Hall. I assumed they were supporters from overseas, but as I entered the room, the first thing I saw was you.” Draco’s eyes met with hers as he spoke. “They wanted me to hurt you. I was…terrified. It wasn’t necessarily the idea of inflicting pain. It was the idea of doing it to someone I know, someone outside of that mess. It paralyzed me. You don’t get it, Hermione. When I saw you, I saw Hogwarts and Quidditch and Butterbeer and everything I had left when I decided to become a Death Eater. It was like a wakeup call. I had to change. I had to be different.” His eyes glazed over with an emotion Hermione had never seen. Draco wiped at them with his sleeves. “I realized the true different between you and I. It wasn’t our blood. It had nothing to do with being Pureblood or Muggle-born. It had nothing to do with being rich or common.” He stared off into nothingness. “My Aunt Bellatrix was torturing the life out of you, and I realized, right then, that it was good versus evil, and I was fighting for the wrong fucking side.”
Hermione had mulled over that memory for countless nights. She remembered it well. Draco had avoided her eyes. She thought it was out of cowardice, and a small portion of it may have been, but in truth it was a turning point in his life.
“I genuinely thought either you or I would end up dead by the end of the war,” he continued, rubbing the back of his head. “I told my mother, as well, which may have been the sole reason she had saved Harry in the Forbidden Forest.”
“You really didn’t have to share that with me,” she said, knowing the weight of it.
“You know I had to, and on top of that I wanted to.” Draco squeezed her hands lightly. “You’ve done a lot for me. I – I thought opening my library to you would be enough but it’s nowhere near enough.”
Hermione exhaled. “Don’t say things like that. You don’t owe me anything.”
“It’s not about what I owe you. It’s what you deserve.” Draco stepped away, towards the door. “After we clear things up with Nott, I – I’ll turn myself in.”
“What?”
He spoke with his back facing her. “I’m tired of running. I’m tired of hiding. I need this to be over.”
Three Hours Later
Hermione couldn’t sleep. She had pondered Draco’s words for the better part of the night. Would he truly turn himself in? How could he have grown tired of hiding in the space of one day? It defied all logic and reason, but so did many things – namely, her feelings for him. It was strange and terrifying and brilliant. In the heat of the moment, they had shared their bodies with another. She had assumed that would be the extent of it, knowing full well the reputation of Draco Malfoy, but there wasn’t just attraction between them. There was trust. There was loyalty. There was confidence.
She leaned back into the plush pillows and closed her eyes tight, as tears began to fall. It was a dangerous thing. It didn’t matter which angle she turned the situation. The result was always the same.
She had found the murderer of dozens, found him and simultaneously found herself.
She was in his eyes, when he gazed down at her. She was in his touch, when he brushed his hands over the small of her back. She was in his movement, when he rocked against her body. She was in his taste, when he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.
Hermione furiously wiped the tears from her eyes. In this instance, there was only one course of action. The young woman pushed the covers from her body and made way to her desk, on top of which rested the book she had found the truth potion in. It was an ancient text, translated from Sanskrit to English using the power of magic, and it contained spells and potions she had never heard of – not once.
The young woman flipped through the pages, past the truth potion, and onto one that she had marked with a white ribbon. It was a spell to erase ones memory – not all of it but just a fragment – stretching from an hour to a decade. Hermione had found it in the morning, and knew right then what she would do with such magic.
She took one deep, calculated breath and left her room, casting a silencing charm over her feet as to not make any noise. The corridors narrowed and a single shiver traveled the length of spine as she made way for the dungeons. They were significantly darker than the last time she’d been there, with Draco to lead the way.
He, of course, had no idea she was there.
Hermione quickly proceeded to the correct cell and extended her wand. It was arguably the most nerve-wracking thing she had ever done, and the only spell she had ever hoped to cast without confidence in her capabilities. Her breathing grew rapid and her heart had the echo of a bass drum. The world urged her to hurry and get on with it. There wasn’t much time. Her plan, selfish as it was, had to be executed, right then – in that moment.
Without blinking, she stepped closer to the cell and opened her mouth to speak the words, but in a flash of shock, confusion and terror, her wand fell to the stone floor.
He was gone.
Nott wasn’t there.
Somewhere in the West Tower, where the only free Malfoy lay to rest, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was pale, haggard and menacing. In its hand was a wand – ten inches, made of Hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair. It was Draco’s wand, in possession of another.
“Hermione?” asked Draco, stirring in his slumber. “Is that you?”
A snake-like smile slithered over the stranger’s features. “It is not,” he responded, enunciating each syllable. “Though I’m sure she’ll find us.”
Draco’s eyes blinked open for just barely a second before his body was flung across the room. He collided with the mahogany wardrobe, breaking it to pieces, and fell down in a mess of cloak and splinters. The young man groaned in agony. He had just one thing to say. “Nott.”
“Correct,” spoke the venomous voice of his former ally. “Thank you reviving me, by the way. You did the right thing.”
An anger known to few men came over Draco, and he could feel his body begin to contort with rage. He launched himself at Nott, blocked by the shield spell.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” rung in the Auror.
Draco growled louder than he ever had, throwing pieces of the broken wardrobe like spears. They were all blocked save for one. Nott spelled it in mid-air, allowing it to hover between them before launching it back. Draco narrowly avoided it, breaking one corner of his bed as he dodged.
“You will duel a wandless man?” asked Draco, disgusted.
Nott released a laughed filled with anything but humour. “You are no man. You are a mutant.” He shot another spell at Draco, causing a gash to form across his chest. “Filth.”
Blood emerged from the gash, soaking Draco’s clothes and the floor beneath him. “You want to kill me?” he asked. “Go ahead. But I demand you set Hermione free. She has done you no harm.”
“Oh, but she has.” Nott pointed his wand at Draco’s heart. “Crucio!” The curse was met with an earth-shattering growl. Draco tossed and turned in the most suffering he had felt in years. “She sided with Death Eater scum. She deserves to die as much as you.”
Draco’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He tried to clear his mind. He tried to focus on one thing. Her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her mountains and mountains of books. It brought him so much joy. It brought him so much strength.
The young man defied the curse, only just, and panted for breath. “Wh – What about Danielle? She was a Death Eater and y – you loved her.”
Nott spat on him. “Wrong!” He fired spell after spell, splitting wounds across Draco’s torso. “I didn’t love her. I killed her.”
The words stung Draco’s wounds as much as the air. The most he could hope for was that Hermione would wake up in the morning and decide to leave the house without her disguise, thus rendering her safe from this crazed man.
“Expelliarmus!”
Draco jolted his head to the door and saw her standing there, knees shaking and eyes bright with determination. She held her wand in one hand and the wand Nott had been using – which belonged to Draco – in the other.
“You sick, twisted fuck.” Hermione stepped into the room, avoiding Draco’s eyes and pointing her wand directly at Nott. “You should be ashamed to call yourself an Auror.”
“The irony is most satisfying,” he retorted. “Kill me if you must, but I have sent for backup.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Lies.”
Nott gave her smile. “It will take them one hour to get here via the position of the Port Key and another hour to break the protection charms.”
“I only need one second to see the end of you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I trusted you.”
“As you should have.” His smile deepened. “This mutant before you has killed dozens and dozens of innocent people. Do you trust him?”
“I trust that he never wished to be this way,” Hermione answered carefully, gaze darting to Draco for a split-second, just long enough to catch his eyes as they fluttered shut. His blood was draining with each fleeting second. “You did this to him. I know everything.”
“He deserved it. He was a Death Eater. Are you telling me you’re a sympathizer?”
“No,” she said, point blank. “Draco was never a Death Eater. He’d been forced. It was either he join Voldemort’s ranks or his father die. What would you have done?”
The smile vanished from Nott’s face. “What I already had done,” he answered, a hitch in his voice. “My father was also a Death Eater. My father had also failed the Dark Lord. My father’s life had also been on the line, when they had ordered me to join. The only difference is that my father had died, in their hands.”
“That’s what this is about,” Hermione realized. “Draco made the choice you wished you had. That’s why you did this to him. It wasn’t out of the goodness of fighting for the right side. It was anger, jealousy, loathing…”
Nott swallowed hard, opening his mouth to retort, but before the words found their way to his lips, he’d been tackled to the floor. Draco pinned him down and slashed at him with a claw. Blood streaked across the Auror’s face. He froze in terror, for just a moment, but as it flew by…his fear joined. In one last attempt at survival, Nott dug his fingers into Draco’s deepest wound and ripped out a chunk of crimson flesh.
Draco roared with a furious pain, body quivering and contorting as he slumped lifelessly to the side. He began to shake. Hermione rushed to his side, cupping his face with her hands and staring into his eyes long enough to see something different about him.
“You’re changing,” she breathed, gazing over his body. “Draco, you’re changing.”
A thin layer of sweat covered him. His shaking grew fierce, throwing Hermione aside, and a pale glow encapsulated him.
She stared in awe, feeling her own body quiver at the sight of it. A total of seven seconds passed; followed by a vision of the man she had always seen underneath.
“Touching,” whispered Nott, mouth hovering over her left ear. “You dropped this,” he said, dangling Draco’s wand before her.
Hermione’s chest jumped and her body followed. She raced to withdraw her wand, and did, but a streak of bright light met with the young woman before she could do anything more.
- 9
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- 11
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Beauty and the Beast