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Dance with the One that Brought You	By : KatDiva Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 43176 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: Nirvae

The Basilisk had petrified another victim... But it wasn’t just any Muggle-born student at Hogwarts; it was you, Hermione. Your face was frozen in time, cold and smooth as the finest Roman marble. Your deep chocolate eyes were lost to me, not even giving me a glimpse of my own reflection. Your hand was so tiny as I tried to hold it in one of my own, still wearing my Quidditch gloves. Yet you had even helped me while you were unconscious by giving me the evidence I needed to find the Chamber of Secrets our second year. That’s just how you are, always helping me, always protecting me.

You made excellent work of that tampered Bludger our second year as well. If it weren’t for you, my head would have been smashed in. So quick with the wand, so many casts and spells stored away in that wonderfully brilliant brain of yours.

The same wand that set Snape’s cloak on fire for me also cast Reparo on my glasses twice — you’d think I would have learned how to do that myself by now.

Remember when you jumped in front of me last year in the Shrieking Shack, shielding me from the escaped fugitive, Sirius Black, courageously defending me from certain impending death. It didn’t matter that they were two grown men, Lupin and Black, against one clever, yet diminutive witch. You were going to protect me at all costs, Hermione, because that’s just what you do.

You drew away a full-grown werewolf last year, yet again saving my life.

You aren’t even afraid of the bigoted, pure-blood Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy. You stood your ground with him, coming to my defense. You should really be more careful, you know? There aren’t many worse enemies one could have than a Malfoy.

You can do anything. You can do everything. Except fly. I really need to teach you how to fly properly. It’s not that hard. Considering it was you who gave me the power and strength to cast my first full-fledged Patronus, driving away the swarm of Dementors.

There are only two places I feel completely happy, completely free. One is in the air, when I’m flying, and the other is in your arms when you hold me close.

I know your smell. I know the feel of your body. And now I know your taste.

Don’t leave me’Mione. Never let go.

Harry’s thoughts swam around in his head. He didn’t want to open his eyes yet. Everything felt so bright on the other side of his eyelids. Everything was so deliciously warm. He could hear a bubbling of some sort. Was he floating? He felt as if his legs and arms were floating away from him. Then he heard her. Soft sobs. Her fingers were running through his hair, which never stayed down, no matter how much conditioner he tried using. Hermione.

His throat felt dry and raw. He didn’t dare chance opening his eyes until he could stop her crying. Why was she so sad? He wanted to feel her smile. If she would smile for him, then he could bare anything.

“The Boy Who ... Couldn’t... Solve a Riddle...” he groaned without opening his eyes, “and nearly got us killed because he’s too daft to know any better.”

She let out a loud sob and held his face in her hands and kissed his forehead.

“Mione,” Harry whispered as he reached up to try and hold her head, “Why are you upside down?”

She laughed loudly as she rubbed her face in his hair, unable to answer just yet. She let her arms circle around his neck.

Harry realized that he was wet — not just wet, he was immersed in water.

“Are we in a bathtub?”

“It’s OK, Harry,” she said softly over and over again.

She squeezed him, kissing his hair, his forehead, and his nose. That instantly caused his eyelids to flutter open, taking in her swollen eyes, red nose, and tear stricken face. She’d never looked more beautiful than at this moment.

“The Girl Who Saved the Boy That Wouldn’t Learn,” he whispered.

“We really need to stop meeting like this, Harry,” she teased. “It’s bad for my self-esteem. I’m going to start thinking you’re in this just for the thrill of it.”

“What would I do without you?” he swallowed, trying to bring her into focus.

“I didn’t save you, you prat,” she teased. “It’s this place ... look.”

He took in their surroundings and immediately was under the impression that they were in a dream. He wasn’t actually floating after all. He was submerged in a hot spring with lime green-colored water that bubbled and gurgled all around him. He looked up at Hermione; she sat behind him, on the ground above the hot spring. The ground was covered with a carpet of tender moss that flanked the entire spring. The sun was much stronger and warmer in this part of the forest. It almost felt tropical.

It was then that he noticed the lushness that surrounded them, beyond the spring. It was as if they had dropped into a botanical garden, covered with flowers, all types of flora, and on the other side of the spring, a gracious weeping willow. It was no Whomping Willow, he could tell straight away, because it sparkled with a thousand different colored lights. The lights were miniscule and moved in and out of the tree branches and leaves as if they were guppies swimming in water.

Just beyond the willow was a small clearing with purple stalks of cattails that swayed in the breeze. The stalks were taller than Harry, and he wondered what lie beyond them.

When he glanced back up at Hermione he had to lean his head all the way back. That’s when he noticed a gleam of white and black sleekness just beyond her. It hurt to turn his body around to get a better look, but he felt compelled to do so.

A pair of unicorns were grazing near another flowering type of tree that had small red fruits hanging from it. The male had the longer horn, and unlike the creature he saw his first year, this one was solid black, basking in the sun, nearly a third size larger than his blazing white mate at his side. The male moved to shield his mare, edging slowly in front of her, blocking Harry’s further inspection.

A small understanding began to trickle over him.

“Nirvae?” he guessed. Hermione confirmed his question with a nod of her head.

“The colony,” she responded. “No sooner had we gotten past the clearing than you passed out.” She continued to run her fingers through his hair. “I thought I was going to lose you, Harry.” Her eyes filled once again with tears, and she quickly wiped them away, attempting to be strong for him.

Harry felt the pulling and slight burning on his back, as he sunk lower into the water. He ran a hand across his chest, tensing as the stretched muscles tightened. That is when he noticed he was shirtless. It was sheer panic that made him reach below his waist. He closed his eyes in relief that his jeans were still snugly on.

“Mione, what happened to my shirt?”

She flushed as the blood raced to her cheeks. “I... umm... I had to ... I had to take it off. Your back was gashed open by the sphinx Harry! You were bleeding all over the place. I couldn’t even manage to get you this far without using Leviosa!” The words all tumbled out as she fiddled with the shoestring on her trainers. Finally she braved a glance at him. “Harry, I didn’t know what to do. I would not...” She hesitated and then just shook her head.

“It’s OK, Hermione, calm down. It was just a question.”

Hermione was now gazing at the Weeping Willow, or more specifically at the colorful sparkling lights that flitted in and out of the branches. She was still amazed at how they were able to communicate with her. She slowly smiled as she recalled the musical strings that seemed to play all around her as she stumbled into the colony, guiding a levitated and unconscious Harry Potter along with her.

No sooner had she entered, crying and frantic, then she was surrounded by the lights, or what appeared to be lights. That’s when she heard what sounded like very soft violin music, an orchestra of violins, only softer, sweeter. There were no words exchanged verbally, she could hear the minute voices in her head saying, “Bring him to the spring, girl.”

They had instructed her to remove his shirt and jeans, but she could only bring herself to pull his shirt off. Thank goodness for Leviosa! She would never have been able to manage had he been lying on the ground. When they told her to lower him into the spring, she quickly removed his trainers, and with a flick and swish Harry was slowly guided into the bubbling healing waters of Nirvae.

“The wounds closed up almost immediately,” she informed him. “They told me what to do, and the waters healed you.”

“Who told you?” he asked her curiously.

“The faeries,” she whispered, pointing to the glowing light forms in the tree.

She then looked down at Harry, completely relieved now, feeling an immense amount of gratitude. She lowered her hands back to his face and raised it up to face hers as she peered down on his inverted countenance. “They are the ones that saved you, Harry — not me.”

Harry placed his hands lightly over hers, rubbing his palms against the back of her hands. He was overcome with the impression that pounded within him. This was meant to be. This was how things would always be between them. His Hermione would be there for him; and as long as she was there, he could face anything. He would survive anything.

He grazed his fingers up her arms and then reached up further until one hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, lowering her face closer to his. She was uncertain what his intentions were, but she did not feel threatened. He was ever so gentle in his prompting.

“There are many different kinds of being saved, ‘’Mione.”

He had guided her so that her face was now centimeters from his. Her eyes were peering at his chin, and his were looking at hers. He closed his eyes and brought her lips to his. He kissed her softly... tenderly. Her pillowed lips pressed into his. Moving his hands to her cheeks, he ran his thumbs across her high cheekbones and then brushed them across her earlobes. His kisses became lighter... two, three, four.... she lost count as he continued to feather them against her lips. The blood rushed to her head, but she didn’t think it was from being inverted over him. She knew it was from this wonderfully warm feeling that bathed her with tingles. She parted her lips when he lifted her away only to bring her mouth back to his. Both of their eyes were closed, and Hermione didn’t know when she had reached her hands down into the water and onto his shoulders, making an exploration down onto his chest.

They could feel the lights before they saw them, encircling around them. The lyrical stringed chords filled their ears and minds as Harry parted Hermione’s lips with his tongue and found entry into her mouth. She had never been French kissed, and she hesitated without returning the exploration. Then he broke her resistance with a deepening probe of his tongue. As the kiss grew stronger, more determined, their senses seemed to heighten along with it.

She didn’t recognize her own voice as it climbed up her throat and released into his mouth. Harry’s hands went from her face and then combed through her hair, holding her head, anchoring her to him.

He wasn’t sure how he had managed to do it in one swift movement, but before either of them were able to realize what was happening, Harry leaned up out of the water and wrapped his arms under Hermione’s, around her back, and deftly pulled into the water with a small splash. He chuckled as she gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.

“HARRY!” she exclaimed, “Have you lost your mind!”

“Completely,” he grinned and pulled her onto his lap.

“You’re mad,” she contended. “Mental!”

“After effects from being almost killed by a sphinx.” He lifted her chin up to face him, wrapping his arm steadfast around her waist. “Or it could have been the concussion from the Hungarian Horntail.” He kissed her again, moving her head back with his other hand under the nape of her neck. “Or it could be just the effect you have on me.”

“It’s the faerie dust,” she said, giving him a pouty smile. “You’ve inhaled too much.”

“Nope,” he nibbled along her jaw line and mumbled, “Definitely you.”

“Harry what are we doing? I’m soaked straight through!”

He stopped his journey across her chin and looked at her with dark green eyes. “I’m kissing, and you’re talking. Something’s not quite right here.”

She could hear her heart beating in her eardrums. What had this place done to them? She felt euphoric, filled with happiness, not wanting to leave. The water bubbled around them, and she brushed her fingers lightly across Harry’s collarbone. Her fingertips made soft swirls down his chest, and she closed her eyes in wonder. Nothing felt like wet skin. There was nothing in her realm of experience that she could compare it to.

When her eyes closed, something burned low and deep within Harry. He could not stop himself from taking her mouth again. Harry could and would have kissed her all day and into the evening if Hermione would have allowed it. But finally her dormant conscience awoke, the guilt crept in, and she knew this wasn’t what they had intended.

“Harry, I’m sorry.” She pulled herself free from his embrace to increase the distance between them. She moved toward the center of the spring shaking her head, as if trying to deny what had just happened.

“Don’t Hermione... don’t....”

“I’m with Viktor,” she said incredulously, as if trying to convince herself more than Harry. “I can’t do this to him. I don’t have the right to do this.”

Harry’s eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. “He doesn’t own you Hermione!”

“No, but how can I be with him one minute and then in your arms the next? Can’t you see how wrong this is?”

Hermione felt the waves of regret cool the warmth of her desire for Harry. “I’ll not hurt you or him, Harry. I won’t do it.” She waded to the far side of the spring and eased out, wringing the water from her hair and shirt as she sat on the edge.

Something long repressed made Harry blurt out, “I need you Hermione!”

She looked at her dearest friend, the boy that she loved, the young man that gave her discovery to a myriad of adventures. “You have me, Harry. I’ll be your friend forever. But I can’t do it this way — not without clearing things up with Viktor first.”

“Clear things up? You’ll break things off with him? You’ll tell him you can’t go to the Yule Ball.” Harry had put too much hope into his questions, turning them into statements, into wishes.

“No, I can’t do that,” she looked away, not wanting to face him now. “But I will talk to him about this. About us.”

Harry felt her slipping away. He wanted desperately to hold on to her, but he wasn’t sure how. “You don’t love him.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then why? Why stay with him?”

Because it’s the right thing to do. Because he asked. Because no one else wanted me until he did.

He knew she wouldn’t answer when he watched her stand and walk over to his knapsack and robe. She reached for her wand and dried her clothes with a whispered spell.

“Let’s have something to eat before we bottle up the spring water, Harry. We’ll use the tea thermos to carry it back for our potion.”

888888

Draco was pacing, which was quite difficult to do in the confines of a small, dark broom closet. Where the blazes were those two? They had missed dinner, and if they took any longer, it would only be an hour until curfew. He pushed the overlong sleeves up his arms, only to watch them fall back down against his fingers. And where the devil is Blaise! He bent down to roll up the hems of the overly large trousers, and blew out an exasperated breath. This had better go right, or he’d smash something... preferably his fist into the bane of his existence, Harry “Pain -in-his-arse” Potter.

The door to the closet flew open, and the tall Italian quickly wedged himself in, closing it behind him. “Lumos!”

“Well?” Draco nearly bit his head off. “Any sign of them?”

“Not yet. It’s beyond dark out there. There’s very little moon tonight, mate. Are you sure they’ll come this way?”

Draco raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “Of course I’m sure!”

As if to chase away any lingering doubt he expounded, “It’s the only place that makes sense for Potty. There is no moonlight, as you so poignantly pointed out. The front entrance is locked for the evening, and this turret is closest to Gryffindor Tower. There are torches surrounding the turret’s patio. He must land here.”

Draco knew how to strategize. No one could top his game of connivery or cunning. He had this completely planned out, almost to the Nth degree. Except for their tardy return back to the castle. He hadn’t planned on this... and now it jeopardized his entire plan!

“What the hell could be taking them so long?” he demanded. His friend knew this was a rhetorical question and didn’t want to chance tipping the already-on-edge Draco overboard.

Blaise thought to distract his irked friend, “You have the bottle, yeah?”

Draco nodded and pulled it out of a deep trouser pocket. He raised it to show his friend, as if to prove a point, “Polish leaded crystal... especially for the occasion.” The bottle gleamed with a golden transparent liquid inside.

“How do you know she’ll use it?”

“Because I plan on making it too tempting not to,” Draco smirked.

“What if Mel doesn’t keep Krum downstairs? You’ve got the other Polyjuice as well?”

“You’re worse than a skittish virgin on her wedding night!”

Blaise knew that part of his nervousness came from the fact that he didn’t want to be killed by an angry, vengeful son of Durmstrang.

“I’ll just go have another look.” He turned to his friend before leaving, “Why don’t you practice your Bulgarian accent or something?”

Draco tossed a hand gesture to his mate that needed no translation.

It was about ten minutes later that he heard footsteps running toward the closet. The door swung open a second time, and Blaise looked excited. “I’m pretty sure it’s them!” He entered the small compartment and lit his wand again by casting Lumos. “I see two small lights in the distance, and they’re headed this way!”

“Right!” Draco didn’t need any further prompting. He removed a flask from his bag of spare clothes and swiftly drank it completely down. “Gods, that stuff is awful!”

It only took a matter of seconds before he felt the transformation occur. Bones extended, skin stretched, facial hair grew, and arms and legs lengthened. The Durmstrang jersey and dark trousers that he was wearing were completely filled out within 60 seconds, finishing the metamorphosis.

“I won’t ever get use to watching that!” Blaise said in astonishment. “I swear, if I didn’t know it was you, mate, I’d be running right about now!”

Draco flexed both arms, mockingly imitating a muscleman pose. He sneered as he rubbed his borrowed palms down his pectoral muscles on his chest.

This was going to well worth the wait. Granger had no idea what was in store! Then he took a few steps before pausing in his tracks. Bloody Hell!

“The man’s a bloody horse, mate!” To confirm his suspicion, he reached his hand down to his crotch. “And he carries to the left.”
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Dance with the One that Brought You