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Peace in the Darkness	By : UpTheHill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 19332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own any of the characters nor the setting from the Harry Potter world. There are plot details that are not mine either. I make no profit out of this story in any way as I am writing for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4: The Christmas Party
Hermione was lying in her bed, smiling delightedly into the darkness. She still felt mild sparks in her stomach and her lips still gently flamed. She was happy. After weeks and weeks of frenzy of thoughts and emotions, Hermione finally could easily respire and appreciate the presence of serenity.
Of course, a grey-eyed face was constantly flashing past her eyes together with images of the scene that happened a few hours ago. Hermione didn’t know how he found out about her hiding place and the whole thing with Ron, but the Slytherin did come to check on her and console her in a desperate-looking situation, even when she said she didn’t need anything. Even when she thought she didn’t need anything, Hermione was glad to find comfort in the arms of Draco Malfoy, someone who possibly cared about her. The kiss made it clear now. And Hermione knew there are important things to be thought through about this situation, but at this moment all she wanted was to remain this harmonic a little longer before returning back to reality.
And the next few weeks felt exactly like that—coming back to reality. Although there were definitely no hard feelings between Harry and her, Ron, on the other hand, was acting insensitively. Most of the time Hermione ran into him, he was wrapped around Lavender, who was sucking into his lips. And in those rare cases when Ron was alone, he clearly avoided contact with Hermione.
Hermione wasn’t jealous anymore, but she was angry at Ron for being so immature and avoiding her instead of just facing her, because they really needed to talk and make things clear between them.
“Ron’s being stupid,” Harry said quietly as Hermione and he were sitting in the library, studying. “Even I’m annoyed by… you know, the whole thing…”
Harry wasn’t comfortable with the circumstances. Both of his best friends were not talking to each other and Harry was trying hard to maintain friendships with both of them. Though Ron didn’t seem to really need either Hermione or Harry since Lavender Brown now was the one to keep him company at pretty much all times.
“Harry,” spoke Hermione, “you know I’m okay. I told you a hundred times. Ron’s at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes.” An image of her lips pressed against Draco’s flashed in her mind, and she invisibly shivered. “I really couldn’t care less.”
Harry didn’t say anything.
“However,” continued Hermione after a pause, “you should talk to Ron and tell him he’s spending too much time with Lavender.”
“What?” Harry furrowed his brows a little, but then raised them. “Oh! No. Ron is aware of how everything looks. In fact, he’s a bit annoyed by Lavender himself. He said he wants to spend more time with me, but…”
“She’s like a leech, isn’t she? Lavender,” grinned Hermione.
Harry snorted in a quiet laugh, “Oh yes, indeed.”
So this whole thing with Ron definitely interfered with Hermione’s well-being, along with the usual school and “The Dark Lord is back” stress. But what bothered her the most was that, again, she rarely came Draco across. They did catch each other’s eyes during lessons more frequently, but generally Draco was almost invisible—barely seen, impossible to face.
There was once a time after Potions, when everyone left the classroom, including Harry with Ron, and the last students in the room, still packing up their briefcases, were Hermione and Draco. It was a little awkward when they both became aware of that, but neither of them could do anything because Professor Slughorn was still there. Nonetheless, Hermione actually scooted out through the door first and stood outside in the corner next to the door, waiting for Draco. And when his white head appeared in the doorway, they looked at each other, both wanting to say something but unable to due to their nerves and inconvenient circumstances since Draco was technically Hermione’s enemy. So they merely parted.
And now the big Slug Club Christmas party was coming up. At first she planned going with Ron, but then he spat the Lavender thing on her face, leaving Hermione with no date.
However, one snowy December afternoon she was sitting on a bench in a hallway reading a book when a big figure suddenly sat next to her. Hermione almost choked on an awfully dense smell of sour man’s cologne.
“Sup,” said Cormac McLaggen.
Hermione turned her head at him and almost hissed, “What?”
“Whatcha readin’?”
Seriously?
“What do you want, Cormac?” she said in an irritated voice.
Honestly. He’s such an idiot, still not leaving Hermione alone. She could make it clear that she had no interest in him whatsoever, but she had to admit that deep down a piece of her was flattered by the attention she was receiving.
McLaggen smirked and spoke, “Who are you going to the Christmas party with?”
Hermione stared blankly at McLaggen’s face for a couple moments. Just stared, thinking, and then she spoke.
“Do you want to go with me?”
Words came out of her mouth before she realized where they would lead to.
McLaggen raised his eyebrows in a delighted surprise.
“Yeah!” he said. “Yeah! I—that’s what I—you know—”
“Great then,” simpered Hermione and turned back to her book.
“Awesome!” Cormac was still surprised. “I’ll come for you at eight then!” Hermione heard him say as he was receding. She nodded to the book.
Well, that was stupid. She was going to regret that and she knew it. But did she have any other choice? Hermione was quite desperate. Not like she could take Draco as her date (this thought literally made her smirk)... Besides, if Ron saw her with McLaggen, perhaps he would think it is a good time to finally face her and figure things out? Or maybe it’ll do the opposite… Oh well, at least the majority of students thought Hermione’s choice to take McLaggen was the opposite of pathetic. “Wow,” said Parvati Patil, for instance, “you like your Quidditch players, don’t you, Hermione? First Krum, then McLaggen . . .” But it didn’t really make Hermione feel better. She knew it was pathetic, and so did Harry.
“We could have gone together!” he said after he pondered Hermione’s confession that she’s going with Cormac. “I haven’t invited anyone yet either!”
“Oh my god…” exhaled Hermione.
How come she haven’t thought of this before?
“How come I haven’t thought of this before?” she said desperately.
But now it was too late.
The party day, December 20^th, was here. Hermione put on her light pink dress and spent quite some time pinning her hair on the sides. She was glad that Harry was coming too; she wished that there would be as many of her friends as possible, so she had people whom she could call for help if Cormac felt like being even more insistent towards her than normally.
The seventh-year was waiting outside the Fat Lady portrait when Hermione showed up, and they climbed down the stairs to the sixth floor where Professor Slughorn’s office was located. Cormac kept peeking at her and smirking, and he once also attempted to grab Hermione’s hand, but she swiftly pulled it away. She could see the boy wasn’t feeling very comfortable anymore, but he didn’t explicitly show that.
The party was filled with nicely dressed students and loads of accomplished people, so all of them could make connections. Hermione wasn’t interested in that though. She wasn’t interested in the party at all.
“So, should we sit down or something?” asked Cormac, as they stood staring at the crowd. Hermione nodded, kind of.
They sat down at one of the tables. Hermione kept nervously looking around, but didn’t see either Ginny or Harry or anyone else she knew well.
“Want me to get you a drink?” McLaggen asked, and when Hermione nodded, he left her alone. She felt she could breathe a little easier without his presence, but then, to Hermione’s misfortune, he quickly appeared again with two full glasses. Cormac then began talking about himself and what amazing moves and saves he could do when playing Quidditch. At that moment, all Hermione wanted was to vanish from this mad place and mad people.
“So,” Cormac spoke after quite a while in a seductive voice, “Hermione Granger, huh?” he grinned and peeked at Hermione’s chest.
Oh god. Why.
Hermione tried to stay polite, so she responded with a fake smile, but honestly…
A few silent moments passed, and then Cormac pointed above.
“Oh, look! A mistletoe!” he said, immediately grasped Hermione’s hand which lay on the table and began leaning over it, grinning.
Hermione flushed from embarrassment and discomfort. She pulled her hand out of hot and sweaty Cormac’s grip and mumbled as she began standing up, “Oh, yeah… look, I’ve got to… go… bathroom.”
She practically ran away.
What the hell was she thinking inviting Cormac McLaggen to be her date? Did she expect him to imply they were going just as friends? Of course not. Allowing McLaggen closer to her will neither help with her relationship with Ron, nor does it make her proud of herself.
Hermione was pushing her way through the crowd to the furthest corner she could find when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Harry! There you are, thank goodness!”
Hermione was a little surprised to see Harry with Luna Lovegood as his date, knowing that he didn't really fancy her, but she was very glad for Luna at the same time.
Hermione told Harry about McLaggen’s behaviour and he said it served her right for coming with him.
Thanks, Harry. It really made me feel better.
Hermione hung around with the pair and other guests who came seeking a word with Harry, but then she spotted a large wiry-haired head approaching through the crowd, so she sneaked out. She then spotted Ginny talking to Gwenog Jones, the captain of the Holyhead Harpies, a well-known Welsh Quidditch team. Hermione joined them and tried getting involved into their conversation, but she had no interest in Quidditch whatsoever, so she mostly just listened, time to time peeking around to make sure Cormac’s nowhere to be seen.
So she won some time, she got to speak to some guests, but she knew that her peace couldn’t last forever and she was right. Hermione noticed McLaggen emerging from the crowd, so she quickly scooted away behind a curtain onto a tight dim indoor balcony, but the seventh-year had already spotted her and thus followed.
“Hey,” said Cormac as he joined her on the balcony, “I’ve been looking for you all night. You aren’t trying to hide from me, are you?” he grinned, too stupid to realize that was exactly what Hermione was doing.
He stepped forward closer to her and Hermione instantly pulled back but ended up being pressed to a wall behind her. Cormac raised his large arms and leaned against the wall over Hermione’s body, drawing his face closer, suffocating her with his choky cologne.
“I though you look very sweet tonight,” he murmured, and Hermione felt the content of her stomach rise. She tried wriggling out of Cormac’s trap, but he seized her wrist and gripped her waist firmly, not allowing her to escape.
“You don’t have to do that,” he continued pressing harder and harder against Hermione, his hot hand rising up her waist. “Just relax, you will enjoy it. McLaggen knows what he’s doing.”
I’m going to throw up.
“You’re sick,” Hermione hissed, then she suddenly pushed Cormac aback with both hands and all her energy and succeeded to make a gap large enough to quickly slip out.
She was barging apace through the crowd continually glancing behind her. McLaggen did not seem to follow her. Hermione rushed out of the room and ran down the hallway, her palm pressed on her chest. She almost bumped into Harry who was standing there lost in his thoughts, holding his invisibility cloak, but she didn’t stop.
“Hermione?” Harry’s voice followed her, but she ignored and turned the corner. She was swallowing down disgust and shame when for a split second she saw a dark slender figure disappear behind a door in the end of the corridor. Hermione slowed down having a pretty good idea of who that person was.
She approached the door. It was an entrance to a boy’s bathroom. Hermione drew very close to the door, pressed her ear against it and held her breath.
For a minute she couldn’t hear anything at all. Then she thought she heard a silent sob, but wasn’t sure if she wasn’t imagining. Nevertheless, after Hermione took a deep breath to relax her pounding heart a little, she slowly put her mildly trembling hand on the door knob, twisted it and lightly pushed. The door opened up a bit without making a sound and, Hermione peeked through the gap.
She first took in the view of a spacious bathroom drowning in a pale blue moonlight. Then she saw Draco from behind, leaning over one of the sinks and clutching its sides with both of his hands. She heard some indistinct quiet noises and gasps, Draco’s back was shaking and Hermione realized the young man was crying. He seemed to have not noticed her presence, and Hermione just stood there with one feet inside the room, not sure whether she should come in or leave the sobbing wizard alone.
Hermione pushed the door a little more and took a step forward. Draco flinched and turned around in an instant.
“What are you—?” he said immediately in a troubled and reproachful voice.
“I’m sorry,” interrupted Hermione, excusing herself, “I just… I saw you and I…” Hermione was gasping her meaningless words, looking for something to say, but unable to make up anything helpful. “I don’t know…” she added desperately.
“Then get out!” yelled Draco making a harsh gesture to the door and his voice cracked.
Hermione stood still clasping the door, trembling from Draco’s intense scowl stabbing her. After a couple of seconds she quietly closed the door behind her and moved closer.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly in concern, but soon realized that wasn’t a good choice.
When Draco came to see her the day she saw Ron kiss Lavender, he didn’t ask what was wrong. He already knew, he had already found it out. And if he didn’t know and asked her what happened, she most likely wouldn’t tell him as she wouldn’t want to talk about it. So why would Draco now answer her question?
Hermione was looking at Draco’s damp reddened face and had no plan whatsoever how to best approach him. He stared at Hermione painfully, anticipating her to do or say something, so she walked further at him until only a couple of feet in distance separated them. Draco couldn’t stand her seeing him like this, so he turned his back at her again and leaned on the sink.
“I just can’t do it,” he sighed heavily.
What is he talking about? What should she do? Obviously she can’t start prying now… Perhaps all she could do now was console him. But to do that felt quiet embarrassing though. Usually Draco was the one to make a further move while she just stood or stared or talked… but now it was up to her.
Why shouldn’t she try to comfort him? He did that for her, didn’t he? Besides, they have already kissed. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t want to let her in, would he?
Hermione slowly laid her hand on Draco’s shoulder blade. He let out a sob. Malfoy’s body was still shaking, and she witnessed a tear drop into the sink. Hermione put her other hand on Draco’s upper arm which was tight and rigid.
Draco was wearing a white shirt and charcoal grey trousers, and Hermione spotted the rest of his uniform—a jumper, a tie and a cloak—lying messy further on the ground by the sink.
Hermione pressed her temple against his shoulder. Her head and arms were now trembling along with Draco’s body.
She couldn’t believe the Slytherin allowed this intimacy between them. One thing for Hermione was to be kissed by Draco when she was in need for solace, but a completely different thing was for Draco to let the girl, whom he hated for many years, see him in his time of weakness and provide him comfort.
And once again Hermione felt peace flood her body. She tilted her head back straight and slid one of her hands from his shoulder onto the back of his neck until her fingertips sank in between Draco’s short hair. The young Gryffindor began caressing the back of the boy’s white head and his upper back, attempting to calm him down and ease the tension in his body. Draco seemed to begin to relax, as his breathing became more even and his muscles slackened a little.
After a few minutes, Draco wiped his face with his shirt collar, then carefully stood up straight and fronted onto her. Hermione pressed her arms to her sides and shyly looked at Draco’s now calmer but still reddened face. He brushed his front hair up out of his eyes with his fingers.
“You don’t have to…” he muttered and somewhat shook his head.
Hermione lowered her eyes. Her palm softly touched Draco’s chest and she drew herself closer.
“I wish I had something to say…” she spoke half whispering. “I wish I knew…”
“But you don’t.”
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. She was feeling very hopeless and sorry for being unable to help. For a second she thought that tears were about to collect in her eyes too, but she immediately suppressed the urge to cry. She felt a bit foolish for being so dramatic, but the moment really was emotional, especially because she cared for the boy.
Draco touched Hermione’s chin and lifted her face. The cool nocturnal light reflected in the young man’s eyes, enhancing their natural grey colour. Those eyes gazed at Hermione’s face, drinking her beauty in.
The Slytherin leaned and pressed his lips against hers. Butterflies fluttered in Hermione’s stomach. Draco moved his hand and drowned his fingers into her curls while he laid his other hand on her waist. His lips parted hers and he slid his tongue inside her mouth. Hermione was holding onto Malfoy’s chest as he pulled her in so close that their bodies were completely touching.
They kissed for who knows how long, and then, without interrupting the kiss, Draco pushed Hermione backwards with his own body and pressed her against the nearest wall.
“Wait…” she breathed out and Draco withdrew his face from hers to look at her. Hermione swallowed. “What if someone comes in…?” she whispered.
Draco took out a wand from his pocket, pointed at the door and said, “Colloportus.”
After the wizard put his wand back, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. Malfoy’s hand was now on her shoulder, and he gently pulled one of the straps of her dress a bit down. He leaned.
Hermione let out a moan when she felt Draco’s lips touch her neck. Goose bumps broke out all throughout her skin and her knees nearly refused to support her. Hermione tilted her head to a side and enjoyed Draco’s warm caresses move from her ear down her neck to the tender skin of her now exposed shoulder. His hands were now slowly sliding all over her waist, tracing the curve of her hips, stroking the bare skin of Hermione’s arms and neck, feeling the shape of her breasts. Hermione quivered with every change of Draco’s touch.
After a few minutes the white-head looked at the girl in his arms again and moved his hand behind her, gripped the zipper of her dress and gently started pulling it down.
Hermione began realizing where this was going, and her heartbeat quickened both from excitement and panic. Draco’s hands were now sliding the top of her dress down, giving the boy a view of Hermione’s heaving bra-covered chest. Thoughts of whether Hermione was ready for something she had never done before flooded her mind, and she unconsciously widened her eyes.
“I—” she gasped, “I ha—”
“I know,” said Draco, looking into her eyes, and, after he stroked her cheek, he cupped one of her breasts with his hand and laid his lips on her collarbone.
She was pushing the top of her head against the wall, moaning silently, clawing onto Mafloy’s back. She felt his hot wet kisses on top of her breasts, and Hermione violently bit her lip with awareness of what was going on. Every spot the boy touched tingled, and Hermione couldn’t help but willingly give in to Draco’s possession.
Maybe I am ready, she convinced herself. As long as it feels right…
Hermione straightened, lifted her arms and began unbuttoning Draco’s shirt. When the shirt was half undone, revealing a bit more of the Slytherin’s fit pale chest, Malfoy grabbed her right wrist and stopped her.
She looked at him with uncertainty. She didn’t understand. She thought that was what he wanted, didn’t he want that?
When Draco’s clutch loosened, she slipped her hand out and was able to undo one more button until Draco muttered “Hermione” and caught hold of both of her hands again.
She furrowed her eyebrows. She was expecting him to explain.
“Do you want to continue?” he muttered after a few seconds.
Hermione’s face changed into a look of mild surprise. She didn’t say anything, just stared at Draco’s soft, coolly illuminated face. Her hands were still in Draco’s.
“Hermione,” he whispered, “are you sure?”
Hermione didn’t know how to respond. Draco was being very nice and gentle, and she enjoyed the sensations completely. She desired to see and touch Draco’s body too, kiss him in return, make him shiver and lust after her. She was tempted to find out what being naked in front of the Slytherin felt like, but was she sure?
After a minute Hermione shook her head.
“No,” she exhaled.
Draco’s face didn’t convey either disappointment or irritation. He kissed her again.
“Turn around,” he said after they finished their embrace.
Hermione turned her back at him. Draco lifted the fabric of her dress back up and zipped it. She faced him again.
Two students gazed into one another’s eyes, unable to bring the moment to a stop. Hermione bit her lip.
“I’m not going to see you for a while,” she spoke.
Draco sighed. That was true. The train leaves Hogsmeade tomorrow morning for the Christmas holiday, so Hermione won’t see the boy for two weeks. Perhaps it wouldn’t make much of a difference since weeks normally passed between every Hermione and Draco’s encounter; however, with every meeting the Slytherin’s touch multiplied and intensified, and Hermione wasn’t sure how being away from Draco would feel now.
Draco receded, giving Hermione enough space. The girl got the hint and stepped towards the door. She put her hand on the door knob.
“Alohomora,” she heard Draco’s voice from behind her, and she opened the door.
Before exiting, Hermione turned her head to Draco.
“Are you okay?” she asked compassionately.
“Yes,” Draco answered and gave her a reassuring nod.
Hermione nodded back and quietly left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
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Peace in the Darkness