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Future Parents Program	By : avari20 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 58112 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing!

Dragon's Breath

Disjointed thoughts broke through Hermione�s anger. The closer she got, the louder they became. How dare Draco, er Malfoy, do that to me? She liked Michael, and she had every right to snog whomever she wished.

Malfoy must have hit his head somewhere in the fight with Lamia.

She did like Michael right?

Malfoy couldn�t simply turn around and declare to all and sundry she was his girlfriend. He could have at least asked first. No, wait, she would have said no anyway. Bloody git didn�t understand that enemies for the better part of six years did not suddenly fall in-- get involved romantically! Why in heaven�s name did that word suddenly pop in her head? Such an emotion was about as close to what she felt for Malfoy as Luna was to being stodgy.

Malfoy couldn�t do this to her! How dare he make such an about face, and for what reason? No good ones, that�s what! She needed the normality of their hatred for one another, blast him to Hades. Her life was unbalanced enough, thanks very much!

Something was terribly wrong with this scene.

Hermione slammed to a halt so fast her robes swished violently. Hermione wasn�t sure how she knew, but neither did she question her instincts. She immediately backed away from the prone figure. Her confused brown eyes darted around the Slytherin common room. Why would Malfoy, a wizard with deep trust issues even among his own kind, fall asleep in the very public common room where he lay vulnerable? It was totally out of character.

�Hello, Hermione.�

Hermione was paralyzed. She couldn�t move, couldn�t breathe, couldn�t think. Those insidious words danced with lazy grace down her spine. Bone deep cold clutched her heart. Her eyes closed. She didn�t want to look. She didn�t want to see the figure she knew was mere feet away to her right. Calm down, Hermione. It can�t be him. Harry killed him. Dumbledore had promised her that he had seen the Dark Lord fall with his own eyes.

�What�s the matter, my love? You don�t look all that happy to see me.� The deep voice had lost its characteristic hissing quality.

My love.

Sickness swamped her. She wanted to throw up, wanted to claw her eyes out so that she would never again see the images those words conjured up. But that was no way to go. Hermione struggled for composure. She had to get her head together, to force the fear and the bile from her throat and confront the dirty bastard who had stolen her rose-tinted glasses. She took a deep breath, commanded her eyes to open, and ordered her neck muscles to work.

She looked into the shadows. She could make out a life sized portrait propped against the wall. It was very formal with a gilded gold frame shaped like a bed of snakes. The scene was the stuff of fairy tales. A black throne encrusted with jewels sat in contrast to a stained glass window, complete with dragons. The empty chair didn�t fool her for a moment. �Tom Riddle,� she said.

The handsome young man stepped from behind in the throne and smiled at her with angelic beauty. It was almost easy to forget that the individual within had once tried to destroy all that Hermione held dear. Including herself. Tumultuous emotions roiled underneath the surface of the flat tone. �What have you done?�

The young man shrugged. �I missed you, and when I heard that the Old Fool was trying to pair you with that blood traitor-� he spat in Draco�s direction, anger blazing in his eyes a moment before disappearing. When he turned his attention back to Hermione, his expression had returned to the sort of mad calm of before. Like two different people, Hermione thought in a detached sort of way. That half smile perked his lips once more. �Anyway, I decided to have Animle deliver my portrait to Hogwarts. Return to my roots, as it were,� he snickered.

An elf stepped from behind Draco�s couch. A pathetic little thing, ragged and stooped, its eyes burned her with malevolence that rivaled Voldemort�s. Hermione could see a vague resemblance to the house elf Kreacher. She was going to have to tread carefully here. She fingered the handle of her wand through her robes. Tom Riddle as a portrait was bad enough, but to have his mad personality coupled with an earthly accomplice�. �Did you kill Draco and Ick?� she asked in a hard voice.
She hid the pain that lanced through her at the thought. Please, please, she silently begged the boy behind her, don�t be dead. I wasn�t really going to kill you. Just maul you a little and send you on your way. I might have forgiven the kiss eventually.
Tom Riddle chuckled. �No, he�s not dead. Neither is the doll, if you could call that living. In fact, he�s very much aware of what�s going on around him. Oh, Hermione, if you could have felt his struggle to warn you away!� The chuckle became a full out laugh. Hermione wanted to stifle it. Forever this time. The man who would become Lord Voldemort stepped up to the very edge of the portrait. He pressed his hand to the barrier of the canvas in vicinity of her cheek. His fingers trailed down. Hermione could almost feel that caress and used her iron will to suppress the shiver of disgust. Dark brown eyes stared into her own almost lovingly. �Did you miss me, Hermione? It�s been such a long time since I�ve seen you.� His voice was husky with an emotion Hermione refused to think about.

�The moment I was told you were dead was one of the happiest of my life,� she bit out. Tom Riddle smiled. The vehement hatred in her face did not phase him in the slightest. �I imagine it was. You never felt for me the way I felt for you. Love and hate are so closely intertwined, however, that I relished your hatred as much I would have your more tender mercies.� His eyes flickered to Draco and hardened. �A strange situation I�m sure young Malfoy is much too familiar with.�

Hermione snorted. �What are you talking about?� She wanted this done. She wanted Draco and Ick safe. She wanted to watch this painting burn. Tom seemed to enjoy the feelings he invoked in her. �I�ve realized something, Hermione. Why I could never curse you. It was so strange. After all, someone had already cursed you in the Ministry. Why couldn�t I, the most powerful of the them all? It�s the same thing that happened with that arrogant little ponce�s mother, Lily Evans,� he snarled. �Someone loved you so much that they were willing to die for you.�

Hermione stared at him in shock. �Harry�.Ron�.�

�They love you like a sister. Powerful, but not quite enough. That ruddy idiot, that blood traitor Malfoy turned out to be a double agent. Tell me, Hermione, do you ever wonder where the heretofore cowardly Malfoy suddenly got the courage to turn against his kind?� Tom asked in a snarl. �He didn�t even realize it. How could his love deflect my curses from you?! I had to rely on a very primitive method of breaking you because of him.�

The scars on Hermione�s back burned in memory. His gaze trailed down her body. She could almost see the memories scroll through his mind. �Primitive, but effective,� he drawled. �Wouldn�t you agree?�

Hermione bristled. �You�ve lost your tiny little mind! Now release Malfoy and Ick before I do something you�ll regret.�

�I have plans for that deserter. But for now�.� A dark emotion flickered through his eyes. �Let�s get reacquainted, my love.�

Hermione whipped her wand out and pointed it at Animle. �Immobulus!� she cast with a shout. The house elf froze only a heartbeat before a spell hit Hermione from the left. A second minion! She flew backward, head over heels before crashing onto an oak table. Her forehead cracked against the wood painfully. Her vision swam dangerously, but Hermione refused to give in to the nausea that threatened to overflow.

Something flew overhead. Hermione rolled off the table and landed in a crouch, eye to the ceiling. There it was again. A flash of blood red cloth drifting among the vaulted rafters. At first Hermione thought it was the Dark Lord�s Dementors, but the laughter that rang out changed her mind. �What a fighter,� a woman cackled. �I like �em feisty, dears,� another replied. Hermione narrowed her eyes, searching her encyclopedic memory at lightning speed. She side shuffled slowly. She had to get to Draco, get him and Ick out of here.

One leg extended, foot down. Ok, now shift weight. Faster. Hermione kept her eyes trained above her. There had to be at least three up there, all female. Red robes�.When she was only a foot away from Draco and the couch the answer came to her. Keres.

Female harbingers who haunted battlefields. They came in the hour of death for human kind. Their red robes, sparkling eyes, and vicious white teeth stayed with someone until their last breath. Then the Keres would utter a chilling cry and swoop down to drink the person�s blood and send them on to dark death. They rarely participated in battle, but could occasionally be persuaded to join in.

Voldemort hadn�t lost his charisma even in death. Hermione could see the eyes even now. They were drifting lower, watching her crouched figure with amusement. Their blue skin stood out in sharp contrast to their sparkling orbs, creating an almost hypnotic effect. Except Hermione was in no mood to play games.

She stood up and pointed her wand at them. Draco and Ick lay helpless behind her. She was determined to protect them no matter what. Something warm dripped down her cheek. Hermione knew without touching that it was blood. She also knew that the Keres could smell it. She could see the excitement in their faces. �Stay away,� she calmly warned them. �I�ve no quarrel with you.�

The Keres laughed. �Dear, we�ve no quarrel with you either. We just want that sweet, sweet blood we smell. How odd that the Lord considers something so enticing, dirty.�

Hermione smirked. �He ever hates what he cannot have,� she told the Keres significantly. Tom Riddle slammed his fist into the portrait frame. Had she been looking, she would have seen his face contort into that familiar expression of hatred.

Draco fought the spell that pinned him to the couch. They would kill her! His heart pounded painfully in his chest. He had glimpsed those things mere seconds after he had seen Voldemort�s portrait for the first time. They meant to have Hermione�s blood!

He was beginning to panic. You have to throw this spell off! Where the bloody hell is your wand, you great oaf! Have to protect Ick, have to protect Hermione. Have to have to have to!

The man in the portrait began to laugh. It was a dark, nasty sound that perverted the meaning of laughter. �I�ve always loved watching Hermione fight the inevitable,� he whispered in Draco�s mind. �It�s rather thrilling to watch. If I had let you see, Malfoy, you would have witnessed those glorious eyes flash with anger and such enticing fear. Her very cheeks are flushed with her dirty blood, Malfoy. Such a pretty, pretty Mudblood.� Cold, invisible fingers trailed down Draco�s throat. �A pleasure to watch, to feel� to taste.�

The bastard licked his dead lips noisily. �To destroy.� Hermione started shouting spells somewhere beyond the darkness that was Draco�s sight. The Keres gave back as good as they got.

No! He wouldn�t let this happen! Draco thrust his fear away. Finite Incantatum!, his inner voice shouted for the hundredth time.

The spell abruptly disappeared. Draco bolted to his feet. Ick began to cry earnestly. Be safe, he prayed silently. He cast a quick, obscure spell that sent the little girl to Malfoy Manor, praying his mother would get the message. �Hermione!� he called out just as a peculiar whistling sound jerked his attention away from the girl.

Crack!

�Draco!� Hermione cried. Pain seared the left side of Draco�s face, blinding him. A second whistle and then a third, each followed by an explosion of pain. His shirt split open and blood poured from his chest and stomach.

�Suffer, Traitor!� Tom Riddle shouted. Suddenly Hermione jumped into Draco�s arms the same moment the whistle sounded again. Hermione went rigid, head thrust back and teary eyes focused entirely on the ceiling. �Hermione!� Draco gasped involuntarily. Warm blood splashed onto Draco�s hand. He twisted his body and pushed her into the corner next to the giant hearth. Draco used his tall, well built form to shield her from whatever was attacking them. Hermione, damn her, still managed to thrust her wand underneath his arm and train it on the assailants.

The Keres surrounded them. One had a curious length of braided rope in her hand. She drew it lazily across her own cheek. �Oh, my,� she murmured. �Got a bit carried away, dear.� Her eyes glinted. Draco ignored his throbbing check and torso and wished for his wand. Wandless magic required a focus of the mind that Draco couldn�t seem to zero in on for more than a second at a time. He was frazzled, afraid for Hermione. Terrified that this time her crazy tendency to attract deadly magical creatures was going to finish them off before they had a chance to truly begin.

�If we get out of this alive, Hermione,� he said, chest heaving. �I�m going to kill you for getting me into things like this. Then we�re getting married.�

Hermione drew a shaky breath against Draco�s shoulder. �Married?� she squeaked.

He grunted. �I figure you owe me as much for saving your cute bum so many times.�

�Ooooh, melodrama,� one Kere sighed. �Dinner and a show.�

�Shut the fuck up,� Draco snarled. �Hag.�

He�d never felt so helpless in his life�not since that fateful Deatheaters meeting his fourth year. Then it had been anonymous Muggles about to die. This time, however, it was the girl he loved who faced Death�s scythe. A life that was infinitely more precious to him than his own. What if you fail? What if you can�t save her this time? His inner self sounded horrified at the very prospect. Thanks to the mirror in his mother�s attic, he now knew what it would be like to live without her.

Like a corpse breathing.

Tom Riddle practically pressed his face against the portrait�s boundaries with agitated excitement. �How does it feel, Hermione? How does the whip feel against your skin again?�

Draco�s attention jerked away from the temporarily restrained Keres to the portrait. Again? He took in the �whip�, as Riddle called it. His blonde brow furrowed. He looked down at his bleeding torso. The skin had torn from one side to the other, leaving furrows that burned. They would scar without a potion�.

Like Hermione�s back.

Hermione could feel the moment Draco made the connection between the scars on her back and the Muggle whip in the Kere�s hand. The muscles in his back became corded steel. One hand reached back to grip the flesh of her hip firmly. She wasn�t sure why he did that but admitted to herself that she hoped that he meant to comfort her.

�Hermione?� What exactly he was asking, he wasn�t sure.

Hermione decided to answer with the simple truth. �I was supposed to be meeting Dumbledore. No one else knew. Or so we thought,� she whispered. Emotion choked her voice.

�And what a glorious month we had, my love,� Tom Riddle purred evilly. Memories of the Muggle killing assailed Draco. Dread filled his belly. Rape, he thought with sickening realization.

Hermione shuddered.

And just like that Draco focused. The need to kill, to avenge the one he loved suddenly pushed out every other feeling that was drowning him. He drew on the deep reserve that his father had instilled in him, that deep void inside that sucked up all emotion until only rage remained. He fed on that rage, allowed it to be born in his heart, relished the feel of it swimming through his blood and setting it aflame until his entire body burned with it.

It was the anger of one entrenched in the Dark Arts, deadly and purposeful. Voldemort, or Riddle, or whoever the hell resided in that portrait had dared to take on a Malfoy.

He�d bespelled Draco, terrified his helpless daughter, and implied sinister and disgusting things that twisted Draco�s gut about the girl he loved.

Nobody fucked with Draco Malfoy with impunity, and it was time to remind everyone of that little fact.

The same energy that had saturated him in the infirmary grew and cloaked him once more. His hair crackled, his eyes turned to molten quicksilver. He bared his teeth. The dark green furniture of the Slytherin common room shook violently, like they were experiencing an earthquake. Things shattered everywhere. Little lightning bolts danced through Hermione�s body where it touched his. �Draco?!� The Keres backed away slightly, unsure about this potent new magic that suddenly radiated off of this young wizard. One seemed to gather her wits. Uttering a chilling scream, she dove for Malfoy.

He threw out a hand. Black flame leapt from his palm in a loud whoosh! In seconds it twisted and fashioned itself into a roaring dragon that launched itself at the Kere. The Kere screamed horribly as it collided with a force more searing than the Patronus charm. Flames burst out upon her robes. She spiraled for the ceiling in a panic. The one with the whip reared back and let it fly; Draco made a cutting motion with one finger from the other hand, and the end drifted harmlessly to the floor. It was neatly sliced in half. This one too found itself devoured and burst into flame. The third tried to run, but Draco was beyond mercy. She never stood a chance.

Hermione buried her head in his back to block out the terrible screams.

Draco cast the killing curse.

And all was silent.

A/N-Again I want to credit Gareth�s Encyclopedia of Monsters. The Keres exist in Greek legend, like the Lamia, but I really wanted to get away from the serpent thing. Plus I didn�t think another super ancient curse in less than two days was exactly plausible. So these old biddies do their thing still in Greece, and aren�t extinct like Lamia was said to be.
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