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Fragments Of A Malfoy	By : SchuylerD Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 4100 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven: Allayed
Draco approached the Gryffindor portrait hole with his hands shaking. He had no real reason to be nervous but was anyway. The Fat Lady eyed him warily but said nothing as he waited. The portrait finally swung out and Hermione appeared.

"Just on time," she said and began to walk down the corridor. "You coming?"

Draco fell in step beside her. "Where are we going?"

"To the Lost and Found."

"The what?"

"The Lost and Found. It's downstairs," she informed him.

"But - what is a Lost and Found?"

"It's where the House elves put all those items that students lose. Don't tell me you've never heard of it?"

"I've never lost anything before."

Hermione glanced at him and he thought he noticed a smirk play at the corner of her mouth. He narrowed his eyes. "Very funny," he said, not bothering to supply the joke.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

She smiled. "I didn't say anything."

They walked in silence for a while and Draco took the time to study Hermione's latest ensemble. She wore a skirt today, (thankfully) which afforded him a look at her bare legs - her skin was smooth and even in tone and he liked watching the way her calf muscles moved as she walked. He wished her skirt was a bit shorter, but if it were, she'd probably get a talking to from one of the Professors. The hem of her skirt grazed her knee and the color, a rich brown, set off her slight tan. His gaze roved up over her hip and he noted that the skirt clasped at her side. Her shirt was light and thin and he could just make out the outline of her bra beneath the pale yellow fabric. Her hair was pulled back with a clip that caught his eye. It had a tiny green dragon on it.

"What's that in your hair?" he asked.

Hermione jumped and her hand went immediately to her head. "What? Is it a spider?"

"No, no - I was just curious about the clasp in your hair."

"Oh, that," she said, sighing in relief. "I thought there was something crawling on my head."

"It's a dragon," he said.

"I know. A gift from a friend."

"Who?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"Ron's brother Charlie. He's a dragon trainer in Romania. I stayed with the Weasley's last summer and he'd come back to visit and brought all sorts of gifts. He'd remembered to bring "girly" things as he called them for Ginny and me. Very girly - a dragon," she said with a laugh.

"Why would he give you a gift? Does he like you or something?"

Hermione looked at him for a moment before continuing. "We're friends. The Weasley's are like family to me."

"Weasel?"

"No, Draco. The Weasley's. You can say their name you know - you won't turn into stone. You might however, turn into a nicer man, though. And I know you can't risk that." Coldness had crept into her voice and Draco recognized his stupid mistake. He didn't want to upset her, at least not until they'd found his belongings. No, he didn't want to upset her at all. The instinct to tear down was for the moment lying dormant somewhere inside him and he milked the absence of malice for all it was worth.

She'd said it might make him a better man - not a boy, not a bloke or a lad. A man.

"Weasley," he said, proving to her that he could do it.

"I'm impressed," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Did it hurt?"

"Ha."

They rounded a corner and descended a flight of stone steps into darkness. Hermione raised her wand and cast Lumos to make the tip glow.

"Why is it so dark here?"

"I don't know; I've never come here at night before. Come on," she said, moving forward along the narrow corridor. At the end of the hallway they stopped in front of a massive door. She cast another charm on the door and it popped open.

"You're pretty good at that," he said admiringly.

"Thanks," she replied, entering the small room.

Draco looked all around, amazed at the stacks of boxes lining the walls. Some were overflowing with clothing; others were sealed tightly and labeled with words like "Quidditch Pitch" and "Owlry". There was a box for just about every area of the castle and its surroundings. He doubted there'd be a box called "Random Alcove."

"This could take a while," said Hermione, lighting a lantern she'd found on a small desk in the corner. She handed it to him and Draco took it and held it high.

"How many students know about this place? I can't imagine many do if it's so full of - things."

"I don't know. Dobby had told Harry about it just two years ago. Harry told me. I don't know what they do with all of this stuff. I guess it just sits here."

Draco moved into a dark area and emerged with a Nimbus 2000 in his hand. "Someone lost a Nimbus 2000 and didn't go bloody mental?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Can I keep it?"

"No!" she said, taken aback.

"I was just asking."

"We're here to look for YOUR things, not everyone else's."

"It's not like anyone would notice, anyway."

"They'd notice. You can't remove anything from this room that isn't yours. There's a special guarding spell on the room. That's why I could open the door so easily. It's not a true barrier."

"So it wasn't your unlocking spell."

"Only in part."

Draco shook his head. "I can't find shite in here, Granger. Unless you see a box marked 'Alcove where Malfoy felt up Granger', we're wasting our time."

Hermione bristled at the mention of their activities in the alcove and Draco felt a change in the air. The tension had risen and the small room became stifling and uncomfortable. She pushed past him and stepped back out into the hallway. He snuffed out the lantern, set it down and followed her. Neither spoke as they ascended the steps.

A familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.

"What are you two doing roaming the halls at this hour?" said Professor Snape, his greasy black hair falling into his eyes as he leered at them. "Malfoy," he said with an air of surprise, "I'd have expected better from you considering your Head Boy status."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "You're Head Boy?"

"He will be if he keeps his nose clean. And Miss Granger, wandering the halls after hours is not what we expect from a prospective Head Girl."

"Yes, Sir," she said resignedly.

"It's not her fault, Professor - she was helping me find something I'd lost."

Snape grit his teeth. "Oh?"

Hermione looked at Draco, alarmed. She shook her head slightly to say, "no". Draco furrowed his brow questioningly at her.

"What have you lost, Malfoy?" asked Snape.

"It wasn't important," Draco said. "We were just heading back to our rooms now."

"I suggest you do so immediately. I will not allow this behavior to continue. If I catch either of you in these halls or anywhere outside your rooms after hours, even if it is the summer, I will report you and have you both sent home. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Hermione and Draco answered.

Snape shot them both a glance of hatred before rushing down the stairs to the Lost and Found room.

Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and they ran down the hall as fast as they could, away from Snape. They stopped when they'd reached the door of the Slytherin common room. Draco breathlessly gave the password and was granted entrance.

"I shouldn't be here," Hermione said, trying to pull her hand from his.

"Come on - there aren't any Slytherin's in residence - none that I've seen anyway. Anyway, I have my own room." He tugged her into the common room and over to the door of the Head Boy's lavish bedroom.

"Draco, if Snape catches me in here you will never lay eyes on that room again," she said resolutely.

"Well where was I to go? Up to Gryffindor Tower? They'd slaughter me up there."

"There are only a couple of Gryffindor boys here and they're leaving in three days time anyway."

He pulled her into the room and shut the door. He'd had to get used to not using magic for the past week but found that it wasn't extremely difficult since he'd so rarely used his wand during summer holiday anyway. His work with Professor Sprout required only his two hands and a sharp eye, so he was well equipped there. Knowing that Hermione was more or less "armed" and he wasn't gave him a small thrill. She could have hexed him into next week for bringing her here but so far he'd managed to avoid any nasty confrontations. They were behaving almost as - friends. After calling idiots like Crabbe and Goyle "friend" for so many years, Draco found it pleasant to be shown the difference between the way someone acts when they're afraid of you and the way someone acts when they genuinely like you. While Hermione had never been truly terrified of him, Draco knew that he did pose a danger to her. If she befriended a Slytherin - the son of a Death Eater - what would everyone say? Harry Potter might even be so disgusted he'd push her away and out of their "inner circle". Even Weasel - Weasley - hated Draco so much that the mere thought of him being close to Hermione could drive the ginger haired boy to performing more accidental hexes on himself while aiming for Draco.

Anyway, he'd been such a bastard to her over the years he wasn't sure she would offer him friendship even if he begged for it, which he wasn't quite ready to do yet. He was getting ahead of himself; perhaps she wasn't really a friend. He had no idea what her motives were. Maybe she was just using him. He could be her experiment, the project she'd been working on. A small voice in the back of his mind apparently fueled by lust insisted that it wouldn't be terribly bad to be experimented on by her.

Hermione lit one of the torches along the wall with her wand, adding a soft flickering orange glow to the room.

"I know you can't see it in this light, but everything in here is green, red and silver," he said, climbing the step stool and crawling to the middle of the bed. Hermione watched him from across the room. He sat down cross-legged and patted the spot next to him. "Come on up."

"I'm not getting in your bed, Malfoy."

"We're back to 'Malfoy' again? Don't you trust me?"

"Not completely, no," she answered truthfully.

"Fair enough. Take a seat wherever you feel most comfortable."

Hermione looked around and didn't see a chair, so she tentatively moved toward the bed.

"I promise I won't touch you," he assured her.

She nodded her assent and climbed up the small stool to sit on the very edge of the massive bed. Draco moved further away from her to give her room and to show that he was serious. He lay on his back with his head at the foot of the bed and looked up at the red canopy.

"Do you miss home?" she asked quietly.

"The Manor you mean?" he asked, irritated that she'd asked such a thing. In doing so, she'd brought unbidden images of his room at the Manor to forefront of his mind. He felt the irritation grow into bitterness. "I hate it there."

"Why?"

"I just do."

"What are your parents like, when they're at home?"

"They ignore me and have parties with important people. What about yours?"

She smiled at the thought of her parents. "Dad sometimes reads dental journals and Mum plays a card game called Bridge with some of her friends. That's when they're home of course. They work together in the same office now, mending teeth."

"Fascinating," he said sarcastically.

"You did ask," she said, annoyed.

"What do you do for fun when you're there?"

"I read," she began.

"I'd have never guessed that--"

"Shut it, Malfoy," she said, trying to ignore his comment. "I read and listen to music and sometimes I dance in my room. Not often, though."

"You DANCE?" he asked, lifting his head off the bed to see her more clearly.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked defensively.

He leaned up on his elbows and stared at the draperies. "Nothing, I guess. I just can't picture it."

"I'm glad you can't. I usually dance naked."

His eyes widened. "You DON'T!"

"I do!"

Draco closed his eyes and smiled. "Ah. Yes, NOW I can visualize you dancing," he said. The next thing he knew, a pillow smacked him in the face. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You're being a prat."

"I'm not. I'm a healthy seventeen year-old boy -er...man."

"When did you turn seventeen?"

"When school ended."

"I never knew. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks but I'd rather forget it; it doesn't bring pleasant memories."

"Did your parents not celebrate it?"

Sure they did, thought Draco. He imagined saying, "Father celebrated my sixteeth birthday by buggering me in my own bed to initiate me into the Malfoy Family Tradition and then fucked me every week after that until I went back to school. And how did you spend your summer, Hermione?" Instead, he just mumbled.

"What?"

"They just got me little gifts here and there--"

"Like your Firebolt?"

"Yes that was a gift but it wasn't for my birthday."

"What was it for?"

This was getting too close for comfort. He swiftly changed the subject. "What did you get for your birthday? And when is it?"

"September. Last year Mum and Dad got me a grand cake and a gift credit at Flourish and Blotts."

"That's all?"

"That was enough. I love books as you have observed."

Draco rolled onto his side and put his head on his hand, supporting his weight with his elbow. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked seriously.

"Afraid of you? Remember Malfoy, I'M the one with a wand."

"So I should be afraid of YOU?"

"You could say that."

"What would you do to me?" He was amused at where the conversation was going and how Hermione turned away from him in embarrassment.

"I could hex you," she said, rubbing her arm absently.

"Would you do that?"

"If you threatened me I would."

"And what would you consider a threat?"

She moved up onto the bed and leaned back against the remaining pile of pillows. She was silent, so Draco took the opportunity to move onto his hands and knees and crawl up to her feet, his hands on either side of her legs. He kept his gaze trained on her eyes as he stealthily moved up her body, like a great cat in the wild approaching its mate. Only they were definitely in the wrong position for THAT, he thought ruefully. An image of Hermione on her hands and knees before him flashed into his mind and he felt his cock respond. He hovered over her, enjoying the way she seemed to be holding her breath as he came closer and closer to her face. When his mouth was almost touching hers he whispered, "Would you consider this a threat, Hermione?"

"You promised you wouldn't touch me," she said, her voice quavering but not with fear. Draco sensed that he'd struck a nerve and that nerve was most likely in her knickers.

"And I HAVEN'T touched you," he whispered, his mouth so near to hers that his breath swept across her lips in an invisible kiss. He pulled back, looked into her eyes, and finally moved over so that he was sprawled next to her on the bed, his head resting on the pillows. He turned to look at her. She seemed to be in shock. "Are you all right, Granger?" he asked.

"F-fine."

"You look a little flushed."

She swallowed hard, then yanked another pillow from the bed and threw it on top of him.

"Granger, are you threatening me?" he asked coyly, pulling the pillow from his face. "That's the second pillow you've pelted me with tonight."

"You haven't finished telling me about your house," she said, folding her arms across her chest and pursing her lips in a show of frustration that he intuitively knew was fake.

"What about it?"

"What do YOU do for fun? You asked me, now I get to ask you."

"Is this some sort of Muggle game?"

"We could play Twenty Questions if you like, but no, this isn't a game."

"I'm not even going to ask what 'Twenty Questions' is. Why do you want to know so much about the Manor? It's big and expensive and cold. That's about all there is to it."

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Riding my horse, Necromancer."

"I thought you despised animals," she said, cocking her head curiously.

"He's the only one I seem to get along with."

"What's your room like there? Is it as big as this one?" she asked, surveying the vastness of the room they were in.

"Mine's much bigger."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm."

"And you don't like it?"

"No. I don't."

"My room's tiny; Mum and Dad are thinking of moving but I told them I'd probably be moving out on my own soon anyway and they shouldn't trouble themselves trying to accommodate me. It's my books, really. The entire basement's full of them. We have to hide them of course so none of my parents friends know about me being a witch."

"Will you really move out on your own?"

"Of course. Won't you?"

"I don't think my father would allow it."

"Why not?"

Because he can't have his fuck toy running too far away. "Because he'd...worry."

"He doesn't seem the type to worry about you. I'm sorry to say it, but he doesn't strike me as a caring man at all. I know he's your father and you must love him--"

"I hate him."

Hermione stopped speaking and leaned in closer to Draco. "What?"

"I hate the fucker. He's a piece of shite. He should be drawn and quartered."

"That's a bit violent, isn't it?"

"He deserves it," Draco spat, suddenly aware of the tears that had formed in his eyes which were about to spill over onto his cheeks. He sat up and turned away from her, trying to stifle a sniffle. He felt Hermione's hand on his back and jumped. She'd moved from the pillows to sit just behind him.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't mean to make you upset," she said softly.

"You didn't. It's HIM."

"What did he do?" She rubbed her hand in small circles on his back and Draco found it extremely comforting. "Did he hurt you?"

"What the hell do YOU know about it?" Draco turned on her, his eyes flashing. Hermione withdrew her hand as if she'd touched something scalding hot. Her hand hung in the air between them and he grabbed it and held it tightly, then brought his forehead down and rested it in her palm. His entire body shuddered with the exertion of controlling the tears that so desperately wanted to surface. Not here, he willed them, not now. Not with her in the room. I won't allow it!

Hermione placed her arm protectively over his shoulders and held him, allowing him to simply sit with her, rocking slightly. If she'd doubted that his distress was genuine, all doubt was surely erased when he looked up at her and she saw his tears reflected in the torchlight. He released her hand and she drew it up and caressed his face tenderly.

Draco took a deep breath. "I better escort you back to your room," he said with finality. They climbed down off his bed and silently walked up to Gryffindor Tower, carefully avoiding Filch, Mrs. Norris and Snape. When Draco returned to his bed, he made sure to lie exactly where Hermione had reclined. He rested his head on the pillows where the faint scent of flowers still lingered.
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Fragments Of A Malfoy