The faint creaking of the door to my bed chamber calls to my senses and stirs my unconscious mind to return to reality. The further into cognizance I travel, the more unimpeded the sound of light footsteps are to my ears. I reach over and light the lantern on my bedside table. The room is empty. The source of the footsteps remains a mystery to ignite my imagination furiously with curiosity. A rope of light appears, grasping both of my wrists and securing them both to the headboard of my bed. Still there is no one in sight. For almost a moment I swear I see two hands floating in the air without a body. Before I can confirm this illusion as a piece of reality, a black, silk blindfold is placed over my eyes and tied around my head. The unseen intruder is gentle as they retrain and move my body to their satisfaction.
"Wha-" I toss my head from side to side in an ineffectual attempt to remove the blindfold.
"Shh," the hiss of a woman's voice sends a current of electricity down my spine. She strokes my hair back from my face affectionately. My blanket is stripped from my body, exposing my naked chest to my admirer. I feel my face redden slightly at the blatant observation and I shiver at the sudden rush of cool air on my skin. The hands of which I had hoped had been a trick of sight in some way are now trailing up my torso. I gasp involuntarily at the shock of touch and the sensation of warmth. Her hands feel like warm silk being brushed slowly over my flesh. One smooth hand rests on my chest as the other moves up my neck and cups the side of my face. My desire to know the identity of this invisible woman turns desperate but all there is to view is the darkness of my closed eyes, imprisoned behind the blindfold. I'm not entirely thrilled by the idea of being restrained. However, the rush of not knowing who such wonderful hands belong has my heart racing and my breath quickening. The heavenly touch and taste of lips, gentle and loving on mine, has my chest heaving. I kiss her back passionately, earning a moan of pleasure to sound deep in her throat. The glorious noise makes me feel as though I'm floating off in the middle of the ocean, hovering just upon the surface with my ears underneath the water and the waves crashing over my entire body. Her lips taste like honey, dripping slowly over my own lips with agonizing softness. She finally pulls her lips away from mine and I have to force myself not to whimper with disapproval.
"Don't stop," I whisper breathlessly. I melt into the bed below me as the weight of her body lays down over mine, enveloping me in warmth. She nuzzles her face into my neck. The scent of her hair is warm like the sun; vanilla and cinnamon. Every part of me, mind, body, and soul, is desperate for her. I shudder with desire as she traces long, passionate kisses along the length of my neck, across my collarbone, and down my chest until she reaches the waist line of my sweatpants. I feel as if I'm being tortured as she repeats this path of kisses back up my torso to my jawline. Despite the cornucopia of sensations overflowing within me, there is nothing particularly lustful about her actions. Every move she makes is loving and careful, as if she is handling a precious treasure instead of another human being.
"Draco," she sighs against the shell of my ear. My body shudders violently in response. One simple word was all it was and it was torture. My first name, something most no one except my parents and Pansy Parkinson ever call me. The warm breath against my ear. The passion in her voice. It was torture. Her voice is oddly... familiar... like a song you swear you've heard but can't remember the lyrics to. For a second I feel as though I could literally cry at the desire I have to hold her, but my arms remain tied above my head no matter how hard I try to break free.
"Who are you?" I ask quietly. No response. The air in the room is thick with the heat of our desire. "You're not going to speak to me, are you? Fine. Just... um, I don't know... tap my chest or something... once for no, twice for yes. Okay?"
"Will you tell me who you are if I guess it right?"
"Do I know you?"
"Are we friends?"
"Are you even in Slytherin?"
I hesitate for a moment, anticipating her answer to my next question. "Gryffindor?"
My stomach flips. "You're a Gryffindor. And you're sure that I know you?"
"You're afraid I'll recongize your voice then?"
"Why? Why don't you want me to know who you are? How did you even get into the Slytherin dorms?" No response. I sigh. "You were invisible?"
"So you snuck in behind a real Slytherin."
"But how were you invisible? A spell?"
My stomach flips again. "A-a c-cloak?"
No response. And then: Tap. Tap. An invisibility cloak. I feel sick with panic and overwhelmed with conflicted emotions. The only one with an invisibility cloak is Potter. The long silence confirms to us both that I know who the invisible woman is. I take a deep breath, trying to find my voice.
"Granger. Hermione Granger."
She slides off of me and off of the bed completely. I feel a sudden release as the hold on my wrists disappears. I refuse to move quite yet. She runs her fingers through my hair and lets her hand stroke the side of my face. I'm terrified to move, to confirm what I already know to be true. I keep my eyes shut tight as she removes the blindfold. She graces my lips with another kiss and, unable to hold it back, I release a sound that sounds like a half moan and half whimper against her mouth. She presses her forehead against mine, holding my face between her hands. Then suddenly all trace of her was gone from my skin. Bracing myself for what I will see, I slowly open my eyes. Granger is already at the door, cloak in hand. She honours me with one glance over her shoulder at me before wrapping the cloak around herself and disappearing from my world. I jump out of the bed, not bothering to dress, and take off through the door. I ignore all of the confused looks and low whispers as I burst through the Slytherin Common Room. The passageway opens and closes again a few feet in front of me. She hasn't gotten very far. I rush out into the corridor but there is nothing to be seen and nothing to be heard.
Write a Review The Invisible Woman: The Invisible Woman