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In His Eyes by silverotter1
Chapter 14 : Truth
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 28

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In His Eyes

Chapter 14 Truth

The wild haired, fire-breathing Hermione rounded on Harry the instant the heavy wood slab door closed behind them.

“Are you going to come clean with me Harry Potter?  Or must I use my wand on you?”  She was livid, her face full of ferocity.  Harry was actually quite alarmed; he knew what Hermione Granger was capable of, especially when provoked. 

Whatever he was feeling inside, Harry didn’t flinch.  Instead he breathed in deeply, eyed Hermione with composed demeanor and spoke several tones lower than she.  “Hermione, you’re going to have to tell me what this is all about.  Then maybe I can understand what has you so upset.”

“Don’t try to placate me.  Don’t patronize me!  And your condescending tone won’t wash Harry!  I’m talking about Draco, Minerva, the Order of the Phoenix, spies, lies … our TRUST in one another.  You know bloody well what I’m talking about!”  

Her body shook with utter rage.  Harry could practically feel the air in the room vibrate with her fury.  He had never before been the focus of the powerful witch’s scorn, and it was altogether disturbing.  The sheer power and intensity of her frenzy almost excited him in a way he found completely inappropriate.


“You had better have one hell of an explanation for lying to me and keeping things from me.  Things you knew I would want to, need to, know!”

“Fine.  What is it that you need to know?  Do you think I hold some concealed truth about Malfoy?  He is, as he ever was — conceited, selfish … only motivated by what can save his own sorry arse.  You want someone like that?”  Harry threw his hand up.  “Don’t bother answering that question.  I’m not sure I can stomach the answer.”

She sensed prevarication.  “Harry, all I want is the truth, not your opinion of Draco.”  The dismay in his response had taken away some of her thunder.  

Harry snorted.  “There was a time when my opinion mattered to you, Hermione.”

“Harry, please … what do you know?”

His green eyes flashed and he knew his point was moot.  Resigned to her wishes, he decided to give her what she wanted.  “Minerva revealed to me, after the duel, that … Malfoy was indeed the Order’s spy during the war.  I take it Ginny told you, right?  Well, keep it to yourself as Minerva explicitly asked for discretion.”

“And is he still working for the Order?”

“Quite possibly, but I can’t be sure.”  Harry regarded her, his face as flat as the tone in his voice. 

She continued to press him.  “What happened on the tower before Snape arrived?  Why did Draco not kill Dumbledore himself?  Harry?”

He turned from her, and rubbed his forehead with frustration.  After many moments, Harry turned back to his long-time friend with a weary expression of defeat.  “Why?”

“Harry, answer me!” she screamed.  “Was he or was he not about to kill Albus Dumbledore?”  Her eyes drilled into him.  Harry saw desperation on her face and she seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for an answer.

“No.” he exhaled almost inaudibly.

“Sorry?  What?  What did you say?”  

“No,” Harry spoke, louder this time.  “Dumbledore …” his voice hitched with emotion.  “Dumbledore implored Draco to put down his wand and join the right side.  Dumbledore told Draco that he was not a killer.”

Hermione’s eyes devoured Harry’s face as she clung to every word.  

He continued as if in a trance and the intensity with which he spoke showed how hard it was for him to admit what he’d seen with his own eyes.  “Malfoy was lowering his wand, almost looking…relieved.  That’s when the Death Eaters came through the door… and Draco he was trembling so badly.  They kept beseeching him to do it, but he just stood there shaking like a leaf.   Then Snape burst in and…”  Harry’s voice trailed away into nothingness and he averted his gaze from the relief and hope that had settled on Hermione’s pensive face.

“Exactly when were you going to tell me this?”

Harry’s head snapped back towards her and replied, “I wasn’t.”

“Don’t you think I had a right to know this Harry, considering the circumstances now?”  She seethed at him, her voice low but full of vehemence.  Harry had never seen her so full of anger.

“Look, I’d no idea you would — that it would get this far with the two of you.  I was hoping you’d come to your senses.  Maybe I should’ve told you; I know that, but—”

“Oh no, don’t use your righteous reasoning on me Harry Potter!  It’s me, Hermione, and you can’t pull that crap with me!  You know damn well you should have told me this when I first asked.  You think my loving him will get in the way of our friendship?  Well, your hatred of him already has!  You’ve hated Draco since the day you laid eyes on him and you still do, no matter what he’s done to atone for his mistakes!”

“Alright!  Yes!  Yes!  You’re right, as usual Hermione.  I do hate him.  I loathe him!  I can’t believe you don’t as well.  He’s not worthy of you!  I didn’t tell you what happened that night because … because I knew you would go to him, be with him.  You’re always looking for the good in everything — the good in every situation, even if it’s not good for you, Hermione—”

She cut him off and seethed, “Don’t you think I’ve the right to decide for myself, Harry, who’s worthy of me?  It sure as fuck isn’t Ron!  He treated me like shite and …and I bet you’d rather I gave Ron another go before you’d see me be happy with Draco, wouldn’t you?”

Harry said not a word.

“I figured as much.  Well, Draco wouldn’t hurt me like that and I … I’ve hurt him terribly.”  The truth of it hit her suddenly and she needed to be with him that instant, to tell him how she felt, to make things right.

Without another word, she rushed past Harry, but he snatched her arm before she could get out the door.  “Do you love him, then?”

“Yes.  Yes, I love him.”  There was no apology in her words.

The creak of the heavy brass hinges stole their attention and the youngest Weasley stood in the entrance looking miserable.  “Hermione, you left your clutch at the table …” she interjected feebly.

“Thank you Ginny.”  Hermione scurried towards her and plucked the golden lion head clutch from her trembling hands.  Ginny’s questioning gaze was met with Hermione’s warm smile.  Hermione embraced her and whispered, “Thank you.”


Hermione dashed out of the Great Hall and up the staircase to the third floor.  As she ran to Draco’s private quarters, her eyes stung with tears. 

“Please, don’t let it be too late ...” she muttered.  To not trip over her gown, she hiked its skirt into her arms and her hair was beginning to spill from its neat coiffure.  She could not reach his door fast enough — reach him fast enough, and when he finally stood before her, she meant to fly into his arms.  

The portraits whirled by, chiding her to slow down, as she sped through the chilly torch lit hallways.  Finally, she reached his private rooms and pounded on the oak slab that stood between her and her long sought happiness.  Soon enough the barrier was gone and she stood stark still, frozen by Draco’s mesmerizing gaze.  Surprise gave way to confusion, passing like a rolling thundercloud behind his grey eyes.

He stepped aside and she hastened into the sitting area and felt the warmth of his chambers.  She didn’t realize how cold she had been until then.  She tossed her lion head clutch onto the leather sofa and slowly turned to face him.

“I never knew,” she whispered, “I never knew what happened that night.”  A fresh tear slid down her cheek and Draco instinctively moved to wipe it away with his thumb and cradle her tear-stained face in his hand, but he stopped himself.

She closed her eyes realizing he had just denied her his touch.  He had denied her his warmth, and his gentleness.  She stepped toward him.

“Don’t.”  The word fell like a weight from his mouth with his eyes reflecting his deep pain.  “Don’t come in here to tell me you hate me and that I’m a foul, evil—”

“I won’t.” she assured, stepping closer.

“Don’t tell me you love Weasley.”  Draco backed up.

“I promise you, I will not.”  She was pulling off her satin gloves and the sight of more bare skin made his stomach hitch.

“The only thing I want to hear from you is—”

“I’m sorry, I was wrong.  Please, Draco, forgive me?”  She closed the last of the distance between them and Draco felt the intensity of her stare boring into him.  He felt his pulse quicken.  Heat and desire surged through him as she looked up at him only a hairsbreadth between their bodies.  In her stare, he saw what he’d been longing to see.  He saw yielding and surrender … and he swore he saw love’s light there as well.

Hermione felt as if she were moving in slow motion as his penetrating gaze consumed her.  She knew what was going to happen in this moment.  He would take her in his arms, kiss her and love her.  All she would know in this moment would be his mouth on hers, his lips moving across her skin, his hands touching her, their bodies entwining with nothing amid then any longer.

However, he did not hold her or kiss her.  He was as still as the frozen surface of the Black Lake and just as cold.  She was afraid to touch him first, for she did not want him to refuse her. 

 “Tell me it’s not too late,” she pleaded.

The seconds seem to crackle as the moment heightened with tension.  He would be the one to decide, she knew.  He could throw her out or let her stay.  Her eyes told him, it was his choice to make.

“Touch me, please …,” she pleaded, feeling fainting from her bated expectation.

Draco trembled and bent his head, whispering against her lips, “Hermione?”

She nuzzled him back in answer.  “Why aren’t you kissing me?” she breathed against his cheek.  She could feel him hesitate, holding back.  “Draco,” she almost whimpered, “Don’t you want me anymore?”

“Oh, pet … you’ve no idea.”

“Then,” she nipped his bottom lip, “kiss me.”

Draco could feel her eagerness, as her body pressed against his and her upturned face offering him her parted lips that promised to be soft and sweet.  Therefore, he did what he’d dreamed of doing for so long; what he’d wanted to do since his first night back at Hogwarts.  He reached up and pulled the clip form her hair hungrily watching as her brown curls tumbled and cascaded down her bare shoulders.  He tossed the clip aside and sank his hand into her silky mane, entangling his long fingers around the brown waves, tugging to pull her face closer to his.  His lips brushed hers, teasing and playing with her beautiful pouting petals.  He loved the sweet taste of her lips.  

Hermione reeled and shuttered as electricity sparked through her at his light contact.  Draco left her mouth and trailed whispering kisses down her neck to her shoulders, breathing in her delicate scent.  He felt heady, intoxicated by her.  As upset as he still was with her, he knew he could never deny her his touch again.  His lips floated over the fullness peaking up above the low cut neckline of her emerald gown and she let out a small gasp.

“Hermione,” he breathed into her neck, “Is this really what you want?  Tell me the truth now, before I can’t turn back.”

Hermione did not answer him with words.  Instead, she gently took his face in her hands pulling him into a kiss.  She kissed him deeply, her tongue mingling with his.  She kissed him with all her need and he understood.

His conscience wrestled within, however and he pulled back from her kiss, leaving her breathless and trembling.  After only a moment, Draco drew her in and rested his chin atop her head vacillating on his next move.  As if speaking to himself he murmured into her hair, “I want you so much.”

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him; so real, so strong, so solid.  “I want you too, Draco.” she replied, almost inaudibly.  Nevertheless, Draco heard it.  It was all he had wanted to hear.  He gathered her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her to his bed.

His bedchamber was dark with only firelight dancing on the hearth to give light.  The huge, four-poster bed was adorned in forest green, velvet curtains and a matching duvet.  A large window looked out over the expanse of snow swept grounds.  Moonlight cast its reflection causing an ethereal glow that gave way to a black night sky full of stars.

He set her on her feet beside the bed and ran his hands down her silken hair before finally reaching back to release her form her gown.  The shinny fabric slipped from her body and she stood before him in nothing but emerald green panties.

Draco gapped motionless, his eyes drinking in every detail of her form.  They traveled over her creamy skin, the gentle curve of her hips, her narrow waist and small belly.  Her breasts were round and pert, with rosy pebbles prominent and awaiting his touch.  He watched in suspended awe as she kicked off her heels and moistened her lips with her small pink tongue.

Hermione felt his eyes devouring her; however, she needed more than just his eyes on her.  Her hands flew to his shirt, pulling it from his trousers.  She fumbled, but growing more impatient, she ripped it open, tearing threads, and popping buttons.  Dragging the garment from his shoulders, she tossed it away.  Her splayed hands sailed up his body and her lips sought his skin.  She kissed his chest, his neck and reached for the buckle of his trousers.  Draco grabbed her wrists.

“Wait,” he said, “Go slow.  I don’t want this to ever end.”  With that, he placed her arms round his neck and kissed her sweetly, tenderly, his expert hands ran up her waist and higher still to brush the undersides of her breasts.  She gave a soft groan at his touch and he dragged his lips down her throat ending at the firm dusky flesh of her bosom.  Arching into his mouth, his tongue enticed the heat of her desire down within her secret place; the place only a lover knows.

She sent his trousers and pants to pool at his ankles and he kicked them away.  Hermione pushed him back onto the bed and began to crawl her way up his frame.  Running her hands up his firm legs, she enjoyed the feel of soft blond hair against her palms.  She could feel his muscle tense and hear his breath catch.  Sliding her hands down his tight calves to his heels, she pulled at his socks.  

“Hey, careful those are cashmere,” he remarked with mock concern.

“Cashmere, your socks are cashmere?”  She arched her brow with a bit of annoyance.

“Yes and they are hand knitted, so please be careful.”  He leaned on one elbow and, tossing the fringe out his eyes, shot her a cockeyed grin.


Hermione stood up straight glaring down at him.  “I’m half-naked, tearing off your clothes, we’re about to have sex and you’re worried about your socks?”

“Well, only a bit.  Now, if we could continue …,” Draco snatched her hand and pulled her down hard against him.

Hermione chuckled as he kissed her collarbone and ran his hands down her bare back.  “You’re wrong about one thing,” he mumbled into her neck.

“Mmm … what’s that?”  She propped her forearms on his chest.

“This isn’t just sex — I’m about to make love to you, Hermione Granger.  I love you and I know you wouldn’t be here with me like this unless you love me too.”

“Yes, you and your cashmere socks,” she chided while nibbling on his earlobe.

Smirking deeply, he countered, “If you think I’m still filthy rich, you’re wrong.  That’s my last pair of cashmere socks and I’ve no money to replace them.  Hence, the reason I requested your care whilst removing them.”

Hermione sniggered as he nuzzled her nose.  “So you’ve no fortune left?”

Draco exhaled apathetically while he tugged at the dainty waistband of her knickers and answered, “Not to my knowledge.  Do you still want to share my bed knowing I’m practically a pauper on a lowly Potions master’s wages?”  

“Absolutely.”  Her voice had changed from the gentle teasing they both so enjoyed to a husky resonance, filled with truth. 

She wiggled free of her satiny garment and closed her eyes as he gripped her hips and she moved to join with him.  Her legs found a comfortable place on either side of him and she was practically vibrating with anticipation as he shifted fully into her.  She opened her eyes to meet with his in those final seconds before two merge as one.  The meaning that passed in this look was one that only lovers can understand.

Draco exhaled, feeling completely enchanted.  He rocked into her slowly, the rhythm building to a crescendo of quivering delight, while Hermione sighed and squealed with reckless abandon driving him wild with passion.  Her mouth consumed his, demanding all; he could feel her want of him as if it were a tangible entity.  Draco again savored the taste of her kisses and she filled his senses until he burned with exquisite pleasure.

He needed more control and without missing a beat he rolled them over, eliciting from Hermione more melodious purrs and whimpers.  She was soaring as he drove her higher and higher.  Her body strove for completion, but it eluded her grasp as he took her past each plateau of pleasure.  She never dreamed it could be like this between a man and a woman.

“Mm, I like the feel of you under me,” murmured Draco.  Hermione looked up at him through heavy lids, smolder-y eyes filled with pure hunger.  He snatched her breath with relentless kisses, again finding their rhythm until pleasure veiled her in hypnotic crashes; agonizing waves on the edge of pain.  

Hermione cried out repeatedly against his mouth as he thrust into her without restraint.  His own sweet anguish grew and he raked his fingertips down the slick flesh of her arched back and released his need, exploding into her with gasping pants.

Exhausted, he bent forward to rest his forehead on hers.  He kissed her brow, her temple and then felt her tears on his face.  She buried her face in the crook of his neck, biting back a sob.  

“Hermione, pet, did I hurt you?  I’m so sorry—”

“No,” she sobbed, her voice choked with emotion.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed.  He was confused.  He had thought she was enjoying it as much as he was.  In fact, he was sure she had enjoyed it at the time.  “Do you … regret it?” he asked, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.

Hermione inhaled deeply, composing herself.  “No, no,” she said softly, stroking his face.  “It’s just that I’ve never experienced anything like that before tonight.”

Draco was befuddled.  “Whatever do you mean, you silly girl?  I would have notice if you were a vir—”

“Oh, Merlin, no!” she interrupted and laughed with a blush rising to her cheeks, “I’ve done it before; it’s just that, I didn’t enjoy it quite so — completely.  Being with you was overwhelming to me because, I’ve never felt quite so … fulfilled.”  She looked pointedly at him.

Draco looked back at her, comprehension finally dawning.  “Oh.  Oh.”  He couldn’t help but snigger through the cheeky smile that graced his lips.

“Don’t you dare tease me, Draco Malfoy.”

She looked so vulnerable even though she was trying to look tough and his heart melted.  He wrapped her into a loving embrace and taunted, “Me?  Tease you?  Never.”  

His heart took wing and he squeezed her tightly.  “I love you beyond words.  It makes me so happy to make you feel so very good … I want to do so many good things for you.”

Hermione smiled, sighing with contentment and held onto him just as tightly.  Their contented silence grew and soon they’d drifted off, wrapped in each other’s arms and each other’s love.


Harry Potter sat slumped on his sofa with a half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey in his hand.  His head lopped from side to side as he grappled for sleep— or for drunken oblivion whichever he arrived at first.  Ginny had long since retired for the evening, unable to get him to speak of what distressed him so.

Even with liberal amounts of whiskey, he still could not strike the images from his mind.  After his row with Hermione, he had decided it best to speak with Draco directly about the issues at hand.  The most pressing issue was of course Draco’s relationship with his dear friend; the other was Order of the Phoenix business.

It had never occurred to him that he would witness the ghastly scene now etched in his mind.  He had found himself about to knock on Malfoy’s door when he had noticed it was ajar.  

Harry groaned when the memories flooded his battered brain once more:

He pushed the worn oak door open a crack and called inside, “Malfoy, Oy!  We need to talk.  You in here?”  He poked his head in, and then walked in.

“Malfoy?”  Harry was just about to leave when he heard something – moaning.  Harry cocked his head straining to hear, listening intently.  There it was again, a woman’s sigh and a man groaning in rhythm.

Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry thought, He’s got some slag he’s shagging in there.  The soddy git can’t have Hermione, so he beds the next woman he can find.

Harry quickly turned to leave, thinking it was probably Patil, when his eyes caught a glimpse of something glittering on the black leather sofa.  It was golden and small, not a snitch, but rather a woman’s clutch.  He struggled to recall where he had seen it before, when all at once he knew.

No!  With shock that made him stagger, he realized it was Hermione’s purse.  No!  His brain screamed again.  He stopped dead in his tracks not knowing whether to run out the door or burst into the bedroom.  Deciding in the next instant that he must know if it truly was Hermione with Malfoy, he walked stealthily towards the offensive noise.  Feeling dirty yet determined Harry slowly, silently peeked into the darkened room.

Malfoy was sitting on the great four-poster with his back to Harry.  A woman’s shapely legs were wrapped round his hips, her hands fisting in his hair.  Harry scowled and swallowed the bile that churned in his throat.  He felt sick as he craned his neck to see the woman’s face in the dim firelight.  As his eyes adjusted, he made out the wild tousle of curls and as she threw he head back and bit back a cry, he knew it was Hermione.

Holy fucking hippogriffs!  
Harry stared in complete and utter astonishment.  He felt himself break out in a cold sweat at the sight of Malfoy shagging Hermione senseless.  He could barley contain his dinner as he stumbled out into the stone passageway, leaving Draco’s chambers  


Sliding back into reality, Harry stared at his fire hoping the light of the flames would blind him.  It didn’t work.  Then he pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets as hard as he could cursing that fact that there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to erase the appalling scene from his mind.  Fuck his wand, he had wanted to tear Malfoy limb from limb with his bare hands.  He hadn’t the chance to have a sister, and Hermione was the closest he had to that.  Harry had forced himself to leave without saying a word.  He would not dishonor or embarrass Hermione in that way no matter how much he hated Malfoy.  

He knew she would be with him once she found out he had helped the Order and he wasn’t going to murder Dumbledore.  There wasn’t anything to hold her back now that those questions were answered.  In a flash of remorse and regret, Harry threw the nearly empty bottle at the hearth, and it exploded in a torrent of glass shards and amber liquid.

“What the bloody hell is going on?  Harry!” Ginny came racing from the sleeping chamber.

“Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“Harry, I’m sorry you and Hermione fought, but just let it go and come to bed.”  The concern on her face was lost on the drunken fool before her.  “Harry –” she began and darted forward and took his arm to wrap it around her shoulder. 

 “We don’t chose who we love; in the most truthful sense, love chooses us.”  She knew Hermione’s and Draco’s feelings for one another were eating him up.


Ginny steered Harry down onto their bed and removed his clothes.  “Could you obliviate my memory Gin?  Just the part where Malfoy is fucking Hermione like there’s no tomorrow?”

“Oh, Harry.”  Disapproval dripped from her voice.  “Is that what you saw when you went to speak to Draco?  Is that what has you has you rankled?  Harry?”  She stifled a snort; Ginny couldn’t help but feel amused.

However, he didn’t answer, he had finally passed out.


Hermione awoke during the night to find Draco’s arms still wrapped round her.  The fire, all but embers now, gave a warm glow to his skin.  She ran her fingertips down his left shoulder, her eyes trailing down his bicep and then to his forearm.  She gasped and stared, and then her eyes flitted to his face.  She hadn’t realized that he was awake too catching her inspecting his arm.

“No, Hermione, I’m not a Death Eater.  I never wanted to be my father.”

She didn’t know what to say.  Instead of speaking, she placed her slim fingers on his bare, pristine left forearm and caressed the pale skin.

“Draco, I know.  I know what happen that night the Dark Mark was conjured and Dumbledore was killed.”

Draco stared vacantly at Hermione for seconds that seemed like days, his mind first blank and numb, then moving through memories at breakneck speed.  He rolled onto his back and threw a hand behind his head.  “Everyone knew I was involved.  I let Death Eaters into the school.”

“Not that, what I mean is – I know what transpired between you and Dumbledore.  I know everything.”

Draco felt sick.  “How could you know?  It was just the two of us, until the Death Eaters and Snape—” 

“Draco weren’t there two brooms on the tower?  You saw so yourself; you asked Dumbledore—” 

He jerked his head toward her, grey eyes piercing her thoughtful brown ones and asked, “How could you possibly know that?”

Hermione looked wary for a moment prior to answering him.  “Harry.” she said quietly.  “He was there, with Dumbledore, only you couldn’t see him.”

“Of course, Potter and his disappearing tricks, eh?”

She couldn’t gage his feelings by his reaction so she cautiously said, “He heard everything and I know you lowered your wand.  Were you going to choose the right side then and there?”

“I … I don’t know what I would’ve done.  But I do know what I did after that Hermione, and it was ...,” he sat up quickly and grasped her bare shoulders, “Please believe me when I tell you this.  Everything else be damned.  I must tell you the truth.”

“Yes, of course I’ll believe you Draco.”

“From that moment, when Snape and I disapparated from outside the castle’s grounds, I’ve been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.  I’ve been on the run and in hiding until this autumn, when I was given a new mission.”

Hermione knew the bit about the spy during the war, but was speechless when Draco admitted he was on a current mission – for the Order no less.

She exhaled and he implored, “Say something, Hermione.”

“I … I … what is your mission.”

“Please understand that I cannot reveal that information.  You know I would tell you if I could.”

“Draco, I’m a bloody member of the Order and want to help.”  She was very nearly euphoric with the thought of Draco belonging to the light side.  

“Yes, as I always suspected.  I told Potter as much, but it’s too dangerous.”

“Wait, you went to Harry with this?”

“At the Order’s request, of course, but he would have none of it, the ruddy bastard ...”

“Draco, Harry cannot turn his back on a task from the Order.  It is not in him to do so.”

“Well, he did.”

“This is rubbish.  We’ll work together to … damn it, Draco, what could be so paramount that the Order is using an inner secret league?  Who are you working with?”

“Hmm, an inner secret league, eh?  I like the ring that has, sounds mysterious and powerful.”  He let out a low growl and gripped her thighs pulling her neatly underneath him.

Hermione was undeterred, indifferent even to his overt advances.  “Wait.  What does Pansy have to do with this?  Is she on your side?”

“Hermione, I’m very ready to ravish you so stop talking and put that beautiful mouth of yours to its most talented use.”

“Is Pansy in the Order too?”

Draco sighed.  The mention of Pansy dampened his libido and he replied, “Definitely not.”

“Draco, I demand you tell me why you’re really here at Hogwarts and what, exactly is your mission.”  She stared at him with that superior look of hers that twisted his guts back in their school days.

“If I tell you,” he looked gravely solemn, “You must sleep with me whenever and wherever I chose.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, saying, “Please.  I’m serious.”

“As am I.  I’m so bloody serious, if you agree to my terms I’ll tell you anything you ask.”

“Fine.  Don’t tell me.  But sooner or later, you’ll be begging for my help.”  She huffed and scooted away from him collecting the sheets around her.  “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“You’re right.  Let’s not talk.”  He slipped his arm round her body and gathered her close.

She turned to him and said, “Draco—” But his mouth covered hers, melting all thoughts from her mind, well, all but this one: Kiss him back.


A/N:  My apologies for the wait on this chap.  Just so you gentle readers know, there is no risk of writers block on my part for this one as the bones of the story are finished.  At this point I’m fleshing out the chapters…I write in notebooks first, type—edit, send the chap. to my beta then read/re-read.  I’m also working on my recently purchased new “old” house (circa 1929).  So my time has been limited.  I’m also working on another fic. Fade into You which would not stop pounding away inside my head, as it was begging to be written.  So there you are.  I adore this story, it is so dear to me…I’m so thrilled so many have enjoyed it.  It is very gratifying to hear your comments and critiques concerning this little Dramione.  If you’ve a spare moment let me know your thoughts.  You reviewers have helped me improve my writing.  Thank you. :)

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