Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Songs of Regret	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 76454 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I also hold no rights to any of the songs mentioned. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 32
- 33
- 34
A/N: @ pickles87, Dragon_Maiden, eowynhp83, Oceangirl87, Severus1Snape, Dramionefan, starr, T-W-O, Trelweny, Sherlocked17, and HarryGinny4eva: Thank you. Sincerely. Thank you.
@Sherlocked17: It’s kind of scary how you know me so well. Shite will indeed hit the fan…eventually.
@T-W-O: Glad you mentioned the Muggle equivalent of Draco’s worth. It’s about £5 for 1 Galleon. Forbes magazine places Lucius’s worth in the present at USD $1.3 Billion or GBP £826 Million…but I like to think of the two Malfoys as separately wealthy and richer before the war than after.
Also, just a small caution: There are quite a few curse words in this chapter. I’m not shy about our four lettered friends as I’m sure you’re already aware, but there are more than usual and I know some find it off-putting. I’d say sorry…but I’m not. ; )
~~~~~~~~
"I am trying, damn it!" Harry shouted as he pushed himself up from the floor in Dumbledore's office. "What you're asking is impossible!"
"It is not," Professor Sarkany replied coolly as he watched Harry get to his feet. "I can do it. Professor Snape can do it. Headmaster Dumbledore can do it. I assure you, it is possible."
"Why aren't you grilling Hermione like this?" Harry whined with a hand to his forehead. Sarkany looked annoyed.
"Because Miss Granger doesn't have the Dark Lord possibly poking around in her head while she sleeps," he answered with a nod toward Hermione.
"Like he's been going easy on me?" Hermione snapped angrily at Harry as she rubbed at her own temples. "I'm not exactly twiddling my thumbs over here."
"Well I haven't seen you on the floor after one of his intrusions," Harry bit back.
"Maybe you're just weak," Hermione snarled at him.
"Enough," Sarkany ordered as Harry and Hermione glared at each other. They reluctantly turned their attention to him as he sighed and put his hands on his hips.
"I think this would be a good time to break. We can't have you angry for too long, Potter, or You-Know-Who may sense it and start probing."
"Too late," Harry scowled. "For the anger, I mean," he amended when Hermione and Sarkany both looked at him in fear. He released a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he said, still running his fingers over his scar.
"Me too," Hermione said quietly, looking sullenly at the floor. Sarkany frowned at both of them.
"I told you this would push your limits. Anger is a coping mechanism for the brain when it feels threatened. Your reactions are not unexpected. However, attacking each other is not productive. You need to channel the anger back into your manipulations, back into your defenses."
Harry looked at him skeptically. "That sounds equally impossible to what you were having us do a minute ago."
Sarkany rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Potter, you are going to send me round the bend. Do you honestly think I'd come here three nights a week and dig around in your shapeless mind and watch you flail about the floor if I knew the end goal was impossible?"
Harry looked disconcertedly at the floor. "No, sir."
"Then stop saying everything I'm trying to teach you is impossible and trust that I may actually know what the hell I'm doing," Sarkany said sternly. “Now rest. We'll resume in ten minutes."
"No," Harry said shaking his head, "I'm okay. We can try it again now."
Sarkany narrowed his eyes over Harry's form before giving a slight nod. "Okay...but another display like the one before and you'll be sitting detention with Filch."
Harry gawked at him. "But that's not fai..."
"Fair?" Sarkany interrupted. "I don't give a shite what you think is fair. If you're going to challenge my choices, then you're going to accept the consequences if yours turn out to be wrong. I say you need a break...you say you don't. Let's see who's correct."
Hermione looked back and forth between the two men as they silently sized each other up.
"Fine," Harry finally agreed. "Tell me what to try and distort now."
Sarkany cracked his neck and then placed his hands one on either side of Harry's face to steady his head and then looked him deep in the eyes as he spoke.
"You are at that shack on the rock. Hagrid just brought you your Hogwarts letter. When you open the letter I want you to change what it says. Make it into a rude birthday card. And make Hagrid into your Aunt Marge."
Harry began concentrating so hard as Sarkany relayed the instructions that his torso began to quake. Sarkany's knuckles turned white as his fingers dug into Harry's head to keep him still.
"Easy, Potter," Sarkany warned as he delved into his mind.
Hermione bit her lip nervously as she watched. Harry had not yet been able to manipulate a single piece of a memory and Draco had just ordered him to change two with the threat of detention if he couldn’t.
"There it is," Sarkany tentatively encouraged. "Now Hagrid into Marge, Potter. Come on..."
Sweat dripped from Harry's hair as his body shook.
"Easy...easy, Potter..."
"I...I can't....
"Yes, you fucking can. Who brought you the card?"
Harry's knees started to buckle.
"Who brought you the card!?" Sarkany yelled, shaking Harry's head in his grasp.
Harry gritted his teeth and a moment later Sarkany released his head with a small shove.
"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT ALL TO FUCKING HELL! AAAAAHHHH!!" Harry bellowed as he stepped away from Sarkany. He continued to curse loudly as he picked up his transfigured wooden chair and hurled it across the office and then kicked over one of Dumbledore's spindly legged tables.
Hermione's hands flew to her mouth in shock as the chair broke apart when it collided with the far wall and several silver trinkets whirred about the floor by her feet. She shrank back in her chair at the sight of Harry seething and pulling at his hair. Sarkany simply stood still, breathing heavily, but with a smug look on his face.
Harry sunk to the floor and put his head between his knees.
"Please don't give him a detention, Professor," Hermione pleaded quietly, looking from the visibly upset Harry to Sarkany.
"No need to give him one," Sarkany answered, still staring down at Harry.
Hermione gave him a confused look. "But you said..."
Sarkany glanced up at her. "He did it," he said, the smug smile getting larger.
"He did it?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"I did it," Harry echoed tiredly from the floor. He lay down on his back, chest rising erratically, and splayed his limbs out around him. "I fucking did it."
Hermione gazed down at him. "Then why all the cursing and destruction?"
Harry covered his face with his hands and shook his head against the floor.
"Because his mind was fighting his will so hard, he couldn't contain the resulting anger," Sarkany answered for him. "I just told you the brain expels anger in response to threat and I made him attack one of his most cherished memories to transform it into something disturbing and ugly.”
Hermione furrowed her brow. “Is his original memory still intact in there?”
Sarkany nodded. “Yes. He duplicated and manipulated brilliantly."
“Didn’t feel brilliant,” Harry groaned from the floor.
“It’ll get easier now,” Sarkany said as he stretched and took out his wand to repair the broken furniture. “Do you prefer to remain on the floor or would you like to sit while Miss Granger makes her attempt, Potter?”
“Floor,” Harry sighed behind his hands.
“Suit yourself,” Sarkany shrugged as he levitated Harry’s repaired chair back to its place. He turned to Hermione and took a deep breath. “You ready for this?” he asked seriously, pointing to Harry’s prostrate form. Hermione gulped but nodded as she stood and stepped toward him.
“Yes, sir.”
Sarkany pursed his lips and tugged his ear before grabbing the sides of her head gently as he’d done with Harry. He locked eyes with her and thought hard.
“Trust me?”
“Always,” Hermione thought back. He nodded.
“Miss Granger,” he said out loud, “I want you to recall your detention from Saturday.”
Hermione raised her brows, and Sarkany gave her a stern look as he continued. “You are to replace me in the memories from that session with your friend Ronald Weasley.”
“I absolutely fucking will not,” Hermione objected before she could stop the words from spilling out. Sarkany’s stern expression faltered briefly, but he kept his eyes on Hermione’s.
“You will. You will make Weasley replace me as the administrator of your punishment.”
Hermione started to hyperventilate. “I… I can’t do that.”
Sarkany rubbed his thumbs over her temples gently. “Yes…you can. Refuse again and you will have the detention with Filch. Now do it.”
Tears welled-up in Hermione’s eyes and she closed them as she took several deep, calming breaths. She reopened her eyes and met Sarkany’s gaze again. She felt Draco fall into her mind.
Hermione looked about the memory in her head. Draco was leaning on the table in their sitting area. “You…you changed your clothes,” she said as she dropped her bag.
“It’s not me, Granger…”
Hermione began to shake as Draco’s altered voice boomed somewhere in the distance and the memory Draco that had begun walking toward her morphed into Ron. Hermione looked at his left arm and watched as the Dark Mark faded away to reveal a freckled patch of skin.
Ron circled around her. “The rules…”
Harry propped himself up on his elbows on the hard floor of the office and watched as Hermione and Sarkany connected. Tears were streaming down Hermione’s cheeks and Sarkany’s knuckles were once again white as they gripped her head.
“Keep…keep going,” Sarkany ordered shakily.
Hermione clawed at his hands on her head. “No…no more,” she bawled.
“Do it!” Sarkany demanded, shaking her head. An excruciating sob escaped Hermione’s throat.
“Gods I love when you curse,” Ron sighed as he stood up behind her. “Get up on the bed.”
Hermione grabbed her hands to Sarkany’s wrists as her knees began to give out.
“Time for pleasure, love…” a naked Ron crawled up over her.
Hermione and Sarkany both fell to their knees, but kept their connection.
“…be careful what you wish for…” Ron growled as he straddled her.
“Oh, I won’t be stopping for a while…”Ron whispered huskily.
“Fuck, you feel amazing…”Ron moaned.
“You are a goddess…”Ron praised as he thrust with his head back.
Harry finally sat up as Hermione and Sarkany both began to shudder violently. “Professor! Professor, I think you should stop!” he yelled in a panic. “Hermione!? Stop!”
When neither broke the connection Harry scrambled over to them and physically shoved them apart. They both fell forward onto their hands and vomited.
Hermione wiped her mouth roughly and sat back on her heels. She looked skyward and screamed at the top of her lungs. When her wailing reached its crescendo a pulse of energy rippled out from her sending all of Dumbledore’s trinkets flying from their tables. The flames in the sconces on the walls exploded showering the floor with embers and then extinguished completely leaving the office in total darkness.
The three sat in the dark with only the sounds of Hermione’s sobbing and Sarkany’s heavy breathing for several moments until Harry felt around his torso for his wand and cast a lumos.
“Are you both alright?” he asked cautiously, holding his wand in their direction. Neither answered, but Hermione pulled out her wand and flicked it harshly. The sconces and candles around the office relit. She vanished the two puddles of sick from the floor in front of her and then started to stand.
“Granger wait…” Sarkany said weakly, reaching a hand toward her.
“Fuck you,” she snarled coldly before running to the exit and disappearing down the stairs.
Several of the office’s portraits peeked open their eyes to glance down at the scene and Sarkany scowled up at them. “Show's over,” he snapped. They shrugged and closed their eyes to continue their usual ruse of sleeping through anything interesting. Sarkany bowed his head with closed eyes.
“You may go, Potter,” he said quietly. “You made excellent progress tonight.”
“Sir, do you need…”
“Just…please go.”
Harry gave him one last concerned look, but got up and obediently left the office.
As soon as he was gone, Draco shot to his feet and darted to Dumbledore’s desk. He yanked open the top drawer and exhaled in relief. He grabbed the Marauder’s Map that was folded neatly within and quickly spread it out across the desk.
“I…I uh…damn it. How’d it go?” he scrunched his face in concentration. “I…I solemnly swear that I…that I am up to no good.”
The map immediately revealed itself and Draco scanned his eyes over the parchment furiously until he saw the tiny dot labeled ‘Hermione Granger’ moving speedily toward the extra staff rooms corridor.
“Clever girl,” he sighed. He shoved the map back into the drawer and tore out of the office and down the spiral steps. He paused at the bottom when he’d cleared the gargoyle and looked down the corridor. He saw Harry’s retreating form down the way headed toward the Gryffindor dorms. Draco swiveled his head in the other direction to see only empty hall and took off running.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is she alright?” Harry huffed the moment he entered the common room to find Ginny huddled over a table working on assignments. She looked up.
“Who?” she asked, stilling her quill over her parchment. Harry frowned slightly.
“She didn’t come back here, did she?”
“Who didn’t? What’s going on? Where’s Hermione?”
Harry ran his hands through his hair. “That’s who I’m talking about. She had a bad reaction to one of our…” he paused and looked about the room at the other students lounging around. He leaned over the table and whispered, “One of our Occlumency practicals. It was really difficult and she had a bit of a freak out and then took off.”
There was a brief silence before Ginny spoke. “She probably went to find Falcon.”
Harry shook his head slightly at Draco’s new nickname but gave her a worried glance.
“That’s kind of what I’m afraid of,” he sighed, taking a seat beside her. “She wasn’t in a right state of mind when she left and if she went looking for him she might not…”
“Think to be discreet?” Ginny finished for him. He nodded. She shook her head. “Even if she did something rash – which I doubt she would - he’d know how to handle it. They’ll be fine.”
Harry puffed a tired breath. “Why does every year here need to be such a cluster fuck of worrisome things?”
Ginny gave him a sad smile and reached forward to cup his face in her hands. She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead sweetly. “One day things will be better,” she whispered with her lips still brushing over his scar. Harry slid his arms around her and pulled her close. He rested his head against hers and closed his eyes.
“I love you,” Harry sighed as he squeezed her. Ginny smiled as she returned the sentiment.
“I love you too. And I promise…everything will be fine in the end.” Harry nodded against her. She returned a squeeze to him and then wriggled herself free of his embrace to stand beside him.
“Now, come on my Chosen One,” she said softly, holding out her hand for him to take. “Let’s get you tucked in to bed.”
Harry gave her a tentative smirk and took her hand to allow her to tug him up and toward the stairs to his room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco batted impatiently at the tapestry to their room as it parted to the side. He grabbed the handle of the oak door only to find it locked.
He muttered a curse under his breath and pulled out his wand to cast a quick Alohomora. The door didn’t budge. “Damn it,” Draco cursed again as he rubbed at his forehead. He glanced up and down the barren hallway and then closed his eyes.
“Scorpius, Scorpius, Scorpius,” he chanted quietly to himself before whirling his wand over his head. “Expecto Patronum.”
His ethereal snow leopard bounded forth and paused before him. Draco relayed the message to it and it leapt through the oak door into the room.
Inside the room, Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor before the fireplace. She stared blankly ahead, her tears glistening with the reflection of the hot flames in the hearth before her. She heard the jiggling of the door handle and glared at the fire. It trailed out from the fireplace and surrounded her.
“Hermione…”
She turned her face within her blaze to see Draco’s Patronus pawing at the flames.
“Please let me in.”
She turned away from it.
“Please let me in,” Draco’s voice came again from the jaws of the leopard. “You said you trusted me.”
Hermione sighed and flicked her wand over her shoulder. The lock on the door clicked open. Draco’s Patronus swirled into nothingness as Hermione heard the door open and then shut again. She continued to stare resolutely ahead as the sound of footsteps echoed around the room and a pair of legs came to stand beside her.
“Hermione,” Draco said in a demanding tone as he looked down at her inside her fire. She shook her head without looking up. Draco furrowed his brow deeply and reached his left hand toward her. A large flame licked up and seared it. He hissed in pain and yanked the hand back. He looked down at the redness forming over his palm and then turned his eyes back on Hermione who was finally peering up at him with a defiant scowl.
Draco’s lip curled in quiet rage as he pulled his wand. He silently cast an extended Aguamenti causing a steady stream of water to flow from the tip of it.
“You. Will. Not. Ever. Disregard. Me.” Draco ground out through clenched teeth as the water began to surround him. When it covered him entirely from the neck down, he stowed his wand and crouched down beside Hermione. “Knock it off now, and talk to me…or I’ll make you,” he warned. She looked pointedly away from him.
Draco let the water engulf his head and then tackled her.
Water and fire tangled in an angry spluttering spray as a series of disjointed, atonal piano notes sounded.
Hermione pelted Draco’s neck and chest with angry blows as he attempted to grab at her wrists. “Get off! Get off me!” she shrieked, her flames fighting to stay ignited within the torrent of water splashing over them.
“Stop it! Stop!” Draco gurgled back through his watery shield as he tried to pin her down. Hermione kneed him hard between the legs. He grunted in pain and collapsed on top of her causing her to lose control of her fire, extinguishing it. He lost control over his water at the same time and it flooded out around them as Hermione’s music died away.
Draco rolled off of Hermione and let his head flop to the side as he curled up and reached down to cup himself. Water dripped from his fringe onto the side of his nose as he whimpered.
Hermione sat up with a hand to her forehead and then looked over at him. “Oh gods, Draco,” she cried repentantly, “Oh gods, I’m so sorry.” She reached a hand toward him and he flinched away from her. She burst into tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated, lying down to face him. Draco said nothing, but winced and removed his left hand from his groin to inspect it again. He groaned at the sight of it and laid it gingerly on the floor, palm up. A trickle of water from the soaked floor moved up and over it to surround it. Hermione took one look at the fluid-filled blisters already covering his hand and cried harder.
“Oh, babe…I’m…I am so sorry.” She covered her face with her hands as she sobbed. “I was just…I was so angry, I couldn’t help it. Gods, I’m sor…sorry.”
Draco released his aching man-parts and raised his right hand to her face. He tugged her hands away to look her in the eyes. “Congratulations,” he breathed with a tired little smirk. “Not even Sev can level me like this anymore.”
Hermione blubbered a nervous laugh at that and Draco patted his hand to her cheek.
“Of course, Sev would never consider kneeing me in the jewels.”
Hermione gave him an anguished, guilty look. “Are you okay? Will he be okay?” she asked darting her eyes to his crotch apprehensively. Draco shifted and sat up with a grimace.
“Eventually,” he gritted out, pressing his good hand back to his injured pride. “Might have to wait a tad for the make-up sex.”
Hermione sat up as well and folded her knees up to her chest. “I am sorry,” she whispered again. Draco shook his head at her.
“It was my fault,” he said seriously. “I knew it was going to set you off in a bad way…I should’ve waited to do it without Potter there. I might’ve been able to calm you better before it escalated if we were alone.”
“Why?” Hermione asked miserably, as she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Why did you make me do that?”
Draco winced again as he lifted his water-encased hand to rest on his leg. He stared down at it for a minute before answering. “You need to have altered duplicates of every intimate memory you have of me. I only chose Saturday’s because it was the most recent.” He sighed deeply. “I probably should’ve started with something less intense.”
“Ya think?” Hermione said sarcastically. “Harry started destroying furniture after having to change a letter and you thought it was a good idea to have me change my lover?”
“I know,” Draco snapped defensively. He ruffled his wet hair. “I just…Potter did so well, and you’re so much smarter than him, I figured… I suppose I’m overly anxious about…”
“Anxious about what?” Hermione prodded when he trailed off into silence. He held out his right hand and slowly collected the water from their hair and clothing as he spoke.
“That altered memory with Weasley…that…that was the most horrifying, disturbing thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And I once saw Greyback eat a woman while she was still conscious, for fuck’s sake,” Draco said as he sent the sphere of water he collected into the fireplace where it boiled and evaporated into steam.
“But if you were ever captured…” he closed his eyes and swallowed uncomfortably, “If…if you were and You-Know-Who found that memory, he’d dismiss it and deal with you like a normal captive. If that happens I’ll have a chance to get us both out. But if he saw that memory with me…”
Hermione rubbed at her left arm. “He’d deal with me differently?” she asked quietly.
Draco opened his eyes and gave her a loaded look. “Us. He’d deal with us differently. He’d make examples of us. He’d make Greyback look like a puppy. We’d be begging for Greyback by the end.”
Hermione shuddered and Draco brushed an errant curl from her face before cupping it. “I’d much rather see you with Weasley in an altered memory than see you tortured to death,” he said softly as he rubbed his thumb over her tear-splotched cheek. “I’m sorry I pushed you to try the alteration so soon.”
Hermione placed her hand over his on her cheek and leaned into it. “Just the thought of you being tortured makes me want to run back up to Albus’s office and shred every incriminating memory to pieces.”
Draco smiled. “You don’t have to shred them. You only have to manipulate them and hide the originals.”
“You’ve manipulated all of your memories of me then?” she asked. Draco nodded.
“Who replaces me in the duplicates?” she asked uneasily.
“Margaret for the times during the summer,” he answered lightly. He then scrunched his nose in disgust as he continued, “And Pansy for the times here.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione reached forward and cradled Draco’s arm to look at his injured hand.
“Do you get this angry when you change your memories?” she asked, poking a finger into the cold water over his hand. Draco squinted his eyes at the cold, stinging sensation in his hand and shook his head.
“I learned long ago how to diffuse or channel the anger. My Occlumency teacher didn’t give me the luxury of detentions with Filch when I failed or reacted badly.”
Hermione tensed slightly. “I hope she dies again,” she said callously as she continued to inspect Draco’s hand. Draco smirked at her.
“You are not alone in that sentiment, love. But I’m sure Aunt Bella will get what’s coming to her again.”
Hermione hummed at his statement and carefully set down his hand. “We need to get some burn-healing paste on that. I’ll never forgive myself if it scars.”
“It won’t scar,” Draco said surely.
“Well, you’ll want it healed quickly at least, Mr. Archer-Seeker,” she said with a small frown.
Draco lifted the hand and attempted to flex it. He gasped loudly at the intense pain of it. “Shite, you did get me good.”
“Go see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said, trying to mask the extreme guilt that was beginning to give her an ulcer. She leaned over and pecked Draco on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning in Defense.”
She started to get up but Draco grabbed her wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked sternly.
“To bed,” Hermione replied tiredly.
“The bed is that way,” Draco said inclining his head toward the blue curtains of the bedroom doorway. Hermione sagged back down to the floor.
“We can’t sleep here tonight,” she sighed. “Albus specifically told us…”
“Fuck what Albus said,” Draco interrupted. “He can’t expel us. Besides, no one will notice. My housemates think I’m out doing the Dark Lord’s bidding and your friends already know you’re with me.” He paused and looked down at his blistered hand again.
“Besides,” he smirked, “I’m hurt. I’ll need someone to fawn over me. You know how poorly I handle injuries.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco laughed. He finally, carefully started to get to his feet. Hermione shot up and gave him her arm to steady himself. He looked down at her fondly.
“Your beautiful, dangerous arse better be in that bed when I come back,” he said with a grin. She nodded and Draco planted a kiss to her forehead. “And Hermione…”
She looked up at him expectantly.
“Don’t you ever bar me from this room again,” he said with a dark threat lurking behind his tone. Hermione shivered with another nod and Draco kissed her head again before letting the water fall free from his hand and leaving for the hospital wing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione pushed the open dresser drawer shut with her hip as she shook out the nightgown and pajama bottoms she’d pulled from it. She set them atop the dresser and quickly undressed. She took the nightgown and pulled it over her head and then picked up her school uniform from the floor and went to the wardrobe.
She tugged the door to the wardrobe open and sighed at the hanging uniforms still within it from their stay over the summer. She hung her uniform on a free hanger and then shut the door.
Hermione turned to face the room and leaned back against the wardrobe. She looked about the vast room and pouted. The whole place felt tainted. This was supposed to be their sanctuary. Their place to escape the past and the present and the what-ifs of the future. Theirs…hers and Draco’s. But now when her eyes drifted over the bed all she could see was Ron’s freckled form crawling over it.
Hermione closed her eyes and steadied her breathing as she used the techniques Draco’d taught her to force the memories of Ron to the furthest part of her mind. When they were locked away, she opened her eyes and pushed off the wardrobe toward the bed with a sigh. She tousled her hair lightly as she sat down upon it and then looked up sharply when the doorway curtains pushed aside.
“I didn’t even hear you come in,” she said as Draco ducked into the room and toed off his shoes. “Everything okay?”
Draco held up his bandaged left hand. “I have to see Madam Pomfrey after each meal for the next couple of days for a new slathering of burn paste and dressings. But she said in a week you’ll never even be able to tell it happened.”
“A week?” Hermione asked in surprise. “Even with the paste?”
Draco shrugged as he tugged at the buttons of his shirt with his good hand. “Apparently burns are tougher to heal than bones. She did give me a delightful pain potion, though.”
Hermione frowned at him fumbling with his shirt and went to him. “What did you tell her happened?” she asked as she undid his last two buttons for him.
“That my girlfriend got angry and burned me with her wrath,” Draco answered as he assisted Hermione in pulling his right arm free of his shirt. She stilled her hands and cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled.
“I told her that I tripped and my hand went into the common room fireplace.”
Hermione twisted her mouth as she delicately pulled his shirt down his left arm and over his wrapped hand. “And everyone else? What will you tell them?”
Draco shrugged again, “Same thing I suppose.”
Hermione gave a small snort.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco asked tugging her head back playfully by her hair. She batted his hand away from her head.
“You would never admit to everyone that you tripped,” she replied, shaking her head as she began unbuckling his belt. “Not when you were sixteen at least.”
Draco tilted his head as he watched her unfasten his trousers. “You’re probably right,” he said casually. “So I’ll say nothing.”
“Nothing?” Hermione hummed as she crouched to yank his trousers down his legs.
“Nothing,” Draco confirmed as he lifted his legs one at a time for Hermione to remove his trousers. “My sixteen-year-old self probably would’ve been purposely vague about what happened…just to see what kind of wild rumors would spread about how I’d been so grievously harmed.”
“Grievously harmed?” Hermione chuckled herself as she padded to the dresser to deposit Draco’s shirt and trousers and grab the pajama bottoms she’d laid out for him. Draco turned his bandaged hand over in front of him.
“Sixteen-year-old Draco would’ve thought so,” he said with a smirk as Hermione came back and bent down before him again to guide his legs into the bottoms she held out. She pulled them up his long legs and snapped the waist band up over his hips.
“Yes…and he would’ve milked it for all it was worth and commented loudly about his strength as a ‘man’ at having endured such pain so valiantly…and then pouted for Pansy to stroke his hair like a kitten,” Hermione teased, letting her fingers linger along the top of his bottoms. Draco gave her an exaggerated pout.
“Will you pet my head, Granger? I’ve been maimed you see,” he mock whimpered, holding up his hand. “Madam Pomfrey says I’m lucky to still have my hand, it was so bad. Don’t know if I’ll ever be able to catch a snitch again.”
Hermione returned an equally large pout. “Oh, Drakey,” she cooed tweely, “Does it hurt? Does it hurt terribly?” She reached up and patted his head. “You poor thing. How manly you are to not be completely incapacitated by your most grievous injury.”
Draco shook his head at her and wrapped his right arm around her waist.
“Ok that was just scary. You sounded exactly like her,” he said. Hermione smacked him in the chest and he chuckled as he leaned his forehead down against hers.
“I am sorry, you know,” Hermione said quietly after a moment. Draco pulled up and nodded.
“I know.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to her lips. “And I’ll forgive you,” he whispered against her, “so long as you get in that bed right now and start stroking my hair.”
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Songs of Regret