Chapter 19 : Hermione Sends a Message
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Hermione tossed and turned in her bed, trying too hard to fall sleep. But sleep would not come because her mind kept thinking of him and his withdrawal from daily life… his skipping meals and sometimes classes. She would see him and know that his mind was wandering to some other dimension.
Her heart ached for the one that was so very different now, a completely different person than he once was. Underneath the layers of haughtiness and hatred was someone hidden. And that hidden person was tender in his touch with thoughts and feelings for her that ran deep within.
She wondered how anyone could live two lives without things becoming blurred at some point. At times she thought of him as a sad mystery and he’d given her the keys to unlock that mystery… the truth of what it was like to grow up in the house of Malfoy, the luxurious prison with no freedom.
Her thoughts went to Harry and the conversations that would always seem to come up.
“He is a Death Eater, exactly like his father,” Harry declared adamantly, as if he had proof.
“He is not exactly like his father,” Hermione protested. “And he is no Death Eater.”
“You might not be convinced, but I am. He walks around Hogwarts as if he hates the world and everyone in it. He is up to something. He’s been disappearing from the map, Hermione. Where is he going?”
Hermione suspected that she knew where he was going… either into The Room of Hidden Things or under the courtyard, both of which were not on the Marauder’s Map. But she would never let on to Harry what she knew, even if she felt a bit guilty for not telling him.
She didn’t want to believe that Draco was planning something diabolical or doing anything wrong. And she had convinced herself that there was no way he would ever agree to becoming a Death Eater. He didn’t believe what they believed. He expressed love to her and risked much in doing so. He would never be one of them. She wouldn’t allow herself to believe it. It couldn’t ever be possible. He would never serve a Dark Lord that would want to kill her.
“I'll never believe it,” she told herself.
Thoughts quickly went to the gift he had given her, the book hidden in the top shelf of her closet where she kept it magically concealed. It was banned after all… and dangerous.
She hadn’t read from it in a long while. She remembered how sad it was reading of a child that had been in the dark so long that it had stopped crying, giving up on anyone ever coming for him.
Hermione sat up in bed suddenly wanting to read more, hoping that it would help her fall asleep.
She crept out of bed and into her closet careful to not make a sound and not wake anyone. Once she had retrieved the book, she hopped back into bed and pulled the scarlet colored drapes surrounding it, giving her privacy.
Using her wand as a light, she spoke the password that would open it. A password that she created when her heart was hurting...
“Accio Prince,” she whispered as it magically opened to the last page that she had read.
The lonely child had been deathly ill for quite some time. He wondered if loneliness could cause such delirious fever and green-hued skin. For weeks he saw only shadows of various heights on the walls. They would bring food to sustain him when he thought he might die.
But one day, everything changed. And as if stepping out of the darkness, the child opened his eyes to the shadow he felt come over him. And there standing before him was a curious magical creature looking down at him with huge eyes, pointy ears, and a long nose.
“Hello," the child greeted weakly. “Who are you?” he asked.
The creature’s huge eyes grew even larger, seemingly surprised that the child spoke. But then he disappeared, much to the child’s disappointment.
The next time the creature was there, he brought fruit.
“Wait,” the child said to him. “Will you be my friend? I haven’t got any friends.”
But the elf didn’t answer. Instead, he covered his mouth with his long bony fingers.
“You are not allowed to talk to me, are you?” the boy guessed with sadness.
The creature bowed his head to gesture ‘yes’.
The child sighed his disappointment. “Will you at least stay a bit? Here, have an apple and eat with me.”
The house elf immediately liked the child, not accustomed to eating with a Master. Taking the apple, he rubbed his long fingers across it and levitated it back to the child.
It hovered to him and turned slowly with one simple friendly message carved into it. It spelled out…
“H E L L O.”
The child was elated then and it was the beginning of a fun and interesting friendship.
Hermione continued her reading and learned that the child had nearly died of Dragon Pox, leaving him with a slight but permanent greenish tint to his skin and learned that the elf was actually the fourth elf to care for him… the first three dying in the process of caring for him.
None of his human family dared to come near him for fear of catching the dreadful illness. They were royalty and far too important to die of his disease. That was the reason why the child was so lonely and gave up on anyone ever coming to his aid. He was under quarantine and had suffered a terribly sad, lonely existence.
She quickly surmised that he was pretty much left to die except for the elves that had tended to him, giving him medicine that would eventually cure him. She wanted to cry for the child and his horrible treatment that had undoubtedly gone on for months.
She read of happier times when the elf taught the child ancient elfish magic using creative methods, considering he was ordered not to speak to the prince who lived. He taught him how to bend light and send messages from afar. They communicated through fire… words spelled out in the air with streaks of fire and also water, even though that turned out to be a bit messy.
Eventually, the prince was taught to hide spells within written text… a difficult, but necessary skill for the two to communicate. It would become a rare skill that would prove to be most useful.
The prince had his magic teachers, but it was the house elf that taught him more magic than his tutors ever could.
But then tragedy struck one night when the house elf was caught teaching the boy… caught by none other than the king himself, who was sorely upset for the elf having disobeyed strict orders. The elf technically never spoke, but the king deemed him guilty nonetheless.
“Oh, my Delilah, the boy’s father struck the elf dead, much to the horror of an utterly devastated child in witnessing the loss of his only friend. It left a hole in the child’s heart that quickly filled with great personal guilt and a quiet anger.”
The story had tugged at Hermione’s heart. It instantly reminded her of how Draco had described the loss of his black dog, Stella all those years ago at Christmas by the hand of his father.
As she continued her reading, she learned that the Tutors were not kind people. They were serious, never smiled, and always looked at him as if his every move was wrong in comparison to his more civilized siblings. He sat wrong, carried himself wrong, held a quill wrong, and looked at them wrong. The boy hated them and their words that would hurt him.
One day, one of the tutors was especially cruel in using the Crucio to correct him for not putting his quills away properly before recess. It seemed his siblings never received the cruelest of treatment for the same offense and his anger welled greatly within. And so with careful thought and the proper words, the prince ridded himself of his tutor by using a carefully penned homework assignment that would deliver a curse not so easily forgotten.
And before the evening was out, the despised tutor and worst offender began scratching at what began as a tiny itch to the surface of his wand hand… the hand that delivered a most painful Crucio. The irritation grew quickly and moved up his arm to his neck and then to his face and into his hair. And so he scratched and scratched the itch that was overtaking his entire body. He itched until the blood dripped to the floor and beyond.
“What curse is this?” the cruel tutor cried out. “Somebody... help me!” he screamed.
But no one knew how to help the man except to commit him to a mental asylum for going insane in believing that something was crawling on him and causing him to itch obsessively.
And no one ever found the darkness hidden within the words on parchment page.
As Hermione was reading, the text was messing with her mind a bit as it was making her scratch. She began to get worried that she somehow had possibly cursed herself in reading it, but it was short lived as the tiny itch on her arm subsided quickly.
But then she read the last line of the chapter that left her a little relieved and curious at the same time.
“My words shall never hurt you, my Delilah. But in reading this, you send a light to me. A light that gives me great joy in knowing that you are safe and that you have read my story.”
Hermione looked up from her book, but didn’t see a light of any kind except for her wand that was illuminating her bed just enough so that she could read. A quick thought crossed her mind. If she was sending a light in reading the text, where would it go? But she quickly reasoned that she couldn’t have sent any kind of light because she had not read it aloud. That was a requirement for the book to do any harm, right?
She was too tired to think about it any further and decided it was time to lay her sleepy head down and succumb to the heaviness in her head. Sleep would come fast as soon as she closed her eyes.
She closed the book and locked it again using the password that no one would ever guess and put it back in its place carefully concealed in her closet.
Hermione then crawled back into bed and a moment later, she was fast asleep and in a dream that visualized all that she had read.
Draco had gone missing for far too long and Blaise became worried. He knew his best friend well and had observed Draco’s behavior with a concerned caution. He despised what Draco was doing to cope. No one knew of his alcohol bingeing, but Blaise. The signs were all there, one just had to know how to recognize them.
It was time for an intervention of sorts.
When Blaise couldn’t find him in any of their normal spots, he made his way to the courtyard to see if the hidden steps would allow him entry to the graffiti below it. It blocked him as soon as he made the attempt, which only confirmed that Draco was hiding out underneath it.
There was only one other way to get underneath the courtyard. He’d have to travel by water.
With the moon lighting the path, he made his way down to the boat dock and was pleased to find the water was mostly frozen over, which meant Blaise didn’t need a boat. For it was the last freeze of the season and spring would come soon.
He took out his wand and sent a charm to thicken the ice and strengthen it so that he wouldn’t be falling through. It worked wonderfully and he now only had to walk on it to get to the space under the courtyard. He held his wand out in front of him so that it strengthened the ice ahead of each step.
His only concern was that his footsteps might wake the Merpeople living in the depths of the Black Lake. The last thing he wanted was trouble from them.
Blaise hated nearly all magical creatures and often thought that their only purpose in life was to make magical humans miserable. The only possible exception that he could think of was a decent house elf… and even they could push his limits of tolerance.
Once he was able to walk on solid ground again, Blaise raised his wand for more light.
Blaise found Draco alright... sitting around jars with tiny flames, surrounded by the wrappers of countless liquor sticks, drunk and looking sick with despair. His eyes were bloodshot with sickly dark patches underneath. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“What do you want, Blaise? Come to have a drink with me?” he voiced with sarcasm.
Draco had been holding something… a piece of paper of some sort and set it down amongst the liquor sticks.
Blaise recognized it as a picture of Hermione Granger. But it must’ve had something wrong with it since it wasn’t moving at all. He had no doubt that Draco had been obsessing over it for weeks. He had caught glimpses of it several times before.
He wasn’t sure if he was surprised at the sight or not. He knew Draco had been drinking to take the edge off everything, but he was alarmed at the sheer numbers that he’d consumed. It was way too much for one person and he was baffled that Draco was still coherent.
“What do you think you are doing? Killing yourself with alcohol?” Blaise accused, disgusted with the scene.
Draco looked as if he barely had the energy to look at his best friend. In a raspy voice, he managed a reply.
“Is it terrible of me to drink away the darkness? Don’t pretend you’ve never indulged.”
“This isn’t New Year’s Eve, mate. You are not surrounded by friends and a hundred party girls having fun. This is entirely different.”
“Save your lecture for someone who isn’t going to die soon,” he replied through gritted teeth. “What am I saying? I’m already dead. I just haven’t stopped breathing yet.”
He took yet another liquor stick from his pocket, cracked it open, and allowed the liquid to pour into his mouth. He then slammed the remains of it on the ground before he continued.
“You are not dead yet, Draco Malfoy. Until you take your last breath, there is much to live for. So stop acting like you are dead and re-join the living.”
“For what? Women? Parties? Quidditch? O.W.L.S. test scores and House Cup Points?” he spat. “It’s all meaningless, Blaise. Dust and ash… because we’re all going to die. Wake up and smell the bloodshed. Hogwarts is but a temporary shelter from what’s really going on out there, my dear Slytherin brother. Cedric Diggory was the first student victim. There will be more. And I will be one of them. Either Dumbledore will kill me while defending himself or the Dark Lord will kill me for failing. Either way, I am dead before I really have a chance to live.”
Blaise understood then. Darkness that he’d never known was consuming his friend. He couldn’t possibly fully understand the pressures that he was going through… the enormous weight of it.
Draco was being robbed of his teenage years. He was supposed to be thinking, acting, and playing the part of his true age. But it was being stolen from him, having to grow up too soon and take on responsibilities that he wasn’t ready for. And he had no choice in the matter.
“The Dark Lord is coming for his estate. He thinks this place is his home and Mudbloods are defiling it with their presence here. And one day, he will return and he will take it. And he will kill anyone who stands in his way. Dark wizards against children. A slaughter is coming and I have no faith in some ridiculous Potter prophecy.”
Blaise stood listening of diabolical plans that had been weighing on Draco so heavily. He had not known about them nor understood the seriousness or brevity of it until now.
“What's that old medieval poem?" Draco questioned. "The one about the rosebuds?" But then it came to him. "Old Time’s still a-flying. And this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying,” he quoted.
Draco shook his head at the thought of it's meaning.
“It’s not just a poem from our Old English Literature class. They were warning us,” he continued. “Carpe Diem and all that crap. Yes. Seize the day… because you’ll be dying soon.”
Blaise felt his heart sink a little at seeing how much his friend seemed to give up on life. He knew what he had to do then. He had to make the offer that would hopefully bring Draco out of the depths.
“Draco, I know that you said that I cannot help you with your task. But there is something that I can do for you and I think you should seriously consider it,” he said in a sad tone that even a drunk Draco noticed.
“I know that part of the hell you are going through is that you cannot be with the one you want. You have no freedom in that and I cannot imagine what that must be like. I know that you’ve had plenty of women that have only used you for… for a variety of reasons, but I know of one that cares for you. And no one would question your being with her.”
It pained Blaise to speak of giving up his love, but he felt it was the only way to help his friend.
“If you need an escape… go to Astoria. She is worried about you and cares for you still.”
Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Blaise giving Astoria to him so that he could get some comfort in his life? It was just like his dream. Blaise was stepping aside thinking he needed the love of Astoria to keep his sanity.
Draco wouldn’t have it.
“Don’t you ever say that to me again, Blaise Zabini. A girl is not something that you can give as a gift or allow a friend to borrow like a Quidditch broom!”
“Of course not, mate, but illegal potions and alcohol are not the answer. I don’t know what is, but something needs to keep you grounded and sane.”
“There is only one girl that I know that can truly do that. And she is not Astoria Greengrass!” he growled. “So while I appreciate your sentiment of unwavering loyalty and brotherly friendship, don’t you ever sacrifice your happiness for me. Trust me, I’m not worthy of such a high price!”
Blaise swallowed hard and gave a rare, insecure look. He normally exuded an aristocratic confidence that matched Draco’s, but this subject was something deep that made his heart hurt and it showed.
“There is something else concerning her,” he admitted, trying hard to hold back his emotion.
“What could that possibly be?”
Blaise paced a little, thinking of how to express what had been weighing on his own mind as of late.
“Are we not equal in intelligence?” Blaise finally asked.
“We are,” Draco acknowledged.
“And are we not equal in magical talent and abilities?”
“I’d say we are very close. What are you getting at?” Draco asked, clearly losing his patience.
“Even so, we are not respected equally by our brothers and sisters of Slytherin House.”
“You are highly respected… without question.”
“Yes, but you have always been considered number one, the highest rank. I’ve always been second to you and I do honestly accept that. But there is a line that cannot be crossed. I cannot be second when it comes to Astoria… or any woman that I’m with for that matter. If I cannot be number one in their eyes, then it won’t work. Call me selfish, but I want a girl to want to be with me and only me. I refuse to be second best in her eyes. And with Astoria… I believe it is you that she would choose… if given the choice.”
“What do you want me to do, Blaise? Spit it her face? I will do it,” he swore adamantly, as if ready and willing at that very moment.
“Don’t you dare. She’s done nothing to you but be concerned for your wellbeing.”
Draco didn’t know what to do or say. He had tried to prevent his dream by insulting her to the core, but apparently it hadn’t worked.
“She cares for you and I’m willing to let her go because I can’t be second best. Don’t you understand? You will be happy with her because she cares for you… something in which you’ve lacked in your previous relationships.”
“Astoria cares for me, you say?” Draco ran a hand through his hair and couldn’t help but think of someone else. “As my closest friend, let me tell you something. Granger… is the only person that has never wanted to use me for anything. Not my status, not my fortune, or for anything else… but acceptance for who she is. And let me remind you that Astoria was sorted into Slytherin House for a reason. Perhaps those classic characteristics haven’t shown up yet… cunning, manipulative, self-preservation and all that. But forgive me if I suspect that she wants something from me. Perhaps it is competition with her sister to land a wealthier mate. Perhaps she wants to use my business connections to start a design career or something. All I know is that Astoria Greengrass doesn’t know me at all.”
“Wait. How did you know about that? About interior design? She only began mentioning it to me after the art show.”
Draco knew of it only because of his dream. In it, Astoria had said that she designed every inch of their new home with him in mind. It was her future career and he didn’t mean to mention it exactly. It just came out and he needed to divert the subject, not wanting to try to explain that he had some stupid futuristic dream at Christmas.
“Call it a hunch. It doesn’t matter. Look, Astoria is a perfectly fine, beautiful pureblood Slytherin and no doubt she is one of the nicest and most caring that we have. I won’t deny that. But you must realize something about her that I want you to really think about and seriously consider.”
“She is two years younger than we are. Two years. Don’t expect her to know who she wants to be with for the rest of her life. You need to give her time to grow up. She is far too young to be deciding such things now, even if she thinks she knows. You need to give her a mile of grace when it comes to you and a serious relationship. Give her time.”
“But what about you? You need her. Take her.”
“Take what exactly, her virginity? Assuming that you haven’t done the deed already.”
Blaise breathed in a deep breath and set his jaw. Clearly, he hadn’t.
“How would that make you really feel knowing full well that I loved someone else and that I was just using her in my bed, which right at the present moment, happens to be right next to yours in our dorm? What would happen to our friendship if I used her as ‘second best?’”
Draco could almost feel the rage boiling at the thought of him taking Astoria’s innocence in such an uncaring manner.
“Lucky for you, I still hold some things sacred… like a girl’s innocence and your friendship. And while I appreciate your offer, however sick and twisted it is, I must decline. Do what you must with Astoria, but I’m staying out of it. Why don’t you tell her that I’m a Death Eater and maybe that’ll take care of your ‘second best’ problem that you think you have.”
Draco’s sarcasm and obnoxious tone angered Blaise.
“And how did you manage to tell your Mudblood friend of your little secret? How did she react to the news? Did she take it well? Or is that why you two aren’t even on speaking terms right now? Have a lover’s quarrel, did you?”
“She is not your concern and never will be,” he growled as if giving a warning.
“Oh, but she is. Believe it or not, Draco, but I am your friend and someday I hope you will forgive me for what I am about to do.”
Draco became instantly alarmed, but he was too slow with his wand, the alcohol slowing him down.
“Incendio!” Blaise commanded, sending the spell that set Hermione's picture ablaze.
“No!” Draco cried out in disbelief as he saw her image being consumed by the flames until it disappeared to nothing.
His head snapped to Blaise.
“You had no right to destroy her picture! None!” he yelled enraged… and followed it with a jinx that sent Blaise spinning in the air and flying into the graffiti wall.
As soon as his back hit the magical wall, it spelled out the words, “MY ASTORIA!” in blazing blue flame lettering, streaking like lightning across the entire length of the three walls.
“She is going to get you killed.” Blaise warned, trying to recover. “I destroyed evidence is all. What do you think would happen to you if any one of them ever found out that you were a Blood Traitor with none other than Potter’s best friend? What if they found that picture of her on you? They would only use it to find her and kill you both. You know this!”
For hours Draco had stared into that picture of her, memorizing every detail of her face… her lips… her eyes… her caring, caring eyes. So much so, he could now close his and see it as if it still existed in his hands.
Knowing that his friend was right about the impending danger, Draco’s anger toward Blaise turned to feelings of great loss. He couldn’t have her, it was true. But having that picture somehow brought her closer to him. It was as if he owned a piece of her that he could keep close to his heart. But now… now he didn’t even have that.
The heaviness in his heart seemed to weigh him down to the point of leaning against the wall and using it to gently fall to the ground.
The magical graffiti wall instantly began turning into the darkest shade of black, like a huge ink blot crawling it’s way over every inch… shrouding it in the darkness that had consumed Draco’s heart.
Then, slowly and painstakingly, one pure white letter at a time appeared across the vast black space… in his own handwriting as he penned it the first time, before it became a message hidden inside a Black Canvas Vault.
“If my heart aches, it is because it is not permitted to love the forbidden.”
Reading the words on the wall, Blaise’s breath caught as he expressed his new understanding of the depth of Draco’s love for his Granger.
“I’m so very sorry, Draco. I… I didn’t really realize how much,” he paused. “Until now.”
The wall seemed to take it’s time before the message soaked into it and finally disappeared.
The heart-felt thoughts of both Slytherin men would be saved indefinitely and would resurface in time in its perpetually moving graffiti. Perhaps it would take months to come back again, but their messages would appear again and again and again.
“What am I going to do now, Blaise?” Draco finally asked, barely breathing.
“You are going to kill the old man, who has lived a ridiculously long life so that you and your parents can live to see another day. It’s time to sober up… and do it.”
The two exhausted men sat there a long while before attempting to get to their feet. The one drunk and feeling heavy and the other sore from his back hitting the wall.
Just as Draco thought of making the attempt to stand, something caught his eye.
It was a small light from the distance that seemed to be coming toward them.
“What is that?” he asked Blaise.
“What is what?”
“That light coming toward us. Can you not see it?”
“I don’t see anything. Did you lace your drink with something illegal?”
The light was getting closer and closer… it looked to be round, smaller than a Quidditch bludger, but larger than a snitch.
It came to Draco and hovered in front of him about a meter away.
“Are you telling me that you do not see this ball of light hovering directly in front of me?”
“No. I swear that I don’t see anything but the look of alarm on your face.”
Draco stared into the light which was slightly green in color and realized that it looked very much like an apple.
But then it turned slowly in the air and spelled out a word… “H E L L O.”
“It’s an apple that just said ‘hello.’”
“It said hello?” Blaise asked with concern, thinking Draco was going mad.
“No. It didn’t say it exactly. The word is carved into it. And it is as clear to me as you are.”
“Draco, seriously. You must be hallucinating. I see nothing of the sort. Perhaps it is all the stress you are under.”
Draco extended his hand to see if he could feel what he was seeing, but his fingers went through the light. It was an apparition, similar to the ghosts of Hogwarts.
“I think it is time we destroyed the liquor sticks, Draco. Perhaps you’ve consumed too many and they are effecting your mind. Let’s get rid of them. You no longer need them anyway.”
“Yeah, okay,”he agreed, hoping the alcohol was the reason and not something else… not something horribly wrong with him. Perhaps he was cracking under the pressure. But why an apple?
He was baffled.
As soon as Blaise sent the spell that would incinerate the alcohol, the light that was actually sent by Hermione’s reading of Delilah’s Black Book of Poems had faded into nothing and was gone. It had been that same apple that the elf sent the boy in the book… their first communication.
“Come on. Let’s take to the ice and get to bed,” Blaise suggested using the spell to strengthen the ice underneath them once more as they walked.
But the Merpeople below did not like the two wizards walking on the top of their lake in the middle of the night. And so they began hitting their sharp staffs against the ice in an attempt to break it and punish them.
They began their pounding while Draco and Blaise began running for their lives.
“Come on!” Draco yelled as they held each other up for support so they wouldn’t fall. But each icey step could’ve been their last as they felt the ice shake and crack underneath their weight.
Draco gripped his wand tight and as soon as he thought they were close enough to solid ground, he sent a blasting spell underneath them that hurled them high into the air, landing them on the frozen, hard snow with a harsh thud.
The two breathed their harsh sighs of relief trying to catch their breath when Blaise finally commented, “I hate magical creatures! I swear I hate them.”
Another week later and a cool spring had arrived, melting away any remaining snow. The first birds had returned and began singing their song, which only reminded Draco that his task was to be completed soon.
The Vanishing Cabinet was ready, passing all final testing. He only needed to wait until the proper day and time, which he expected to be communicated to him sometime during the break.
But Draco had received an owl post, a brief letter from his mother instructing him not to go home for the short break. Instead, he was to go with Goyle to Hogsmeade and use a Port Key to the Goyle Estate.
It left him distraught and sick. It wasn’t what the letter said, but what it didn’t say. Clearly, it was not safe for him to go home. The Dark Lord was most likely getting irritated and anxious for Dumbledore’s death and was unpredictable. All would be in grave danger there.
It made Draco suddenly feel like he was starving… not for food, but for Hermione. Her presence always had the power to calm him and take everything away if only for a brief time. His search for her became one of desperation. He wanted to be with her and talk with her about anything and everything but war, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore, and his dark task. He wanted talk of the weather or classes or anything… just anything for a slight escape and some form of inner peace.
He caught a brief glimpse of her holding a large white bath towel and a basket full of bath items and immediately knew where she was heading. She was going to the Prefect’s Bathroom to enjoy a sudsy bath in the over-sized tub. And whether she liked it or not, he decided to join her.
He ran to his dorm room and grabbed the largest towel that he had and on his way out, he grabbed the antique hourglass from the fireplace mantle in the Slytherin common room. For he knew that the best concealment charm would hide the scars on his back indefinitely, but it would only hide his Dark Mark for forty-five minutes to an hour at the most. He would keep a watchful eye on the hourglass.
Draco thought that this time with her might very well be his last. The only thing he was sure of was that time was running out and war was coming to Hogwarts and there was a good chance that he might never see her again.
Once in the changing area of the bathroom, his heart raced as he pulled off his clothing, down to his shorts. When he saw the concealment charm begin working and the Dark Mark seemingly disappear, he stepped into the room where he anticipated that Hermione would already be in the water.
He stood silent for a moment, watching her every move and making sure that she was alone.
She was absolutely adorable with her hair all pinned up, eyes closed, and surrounded by fluffy white clouds of endless suds, completely unaware of her uninvited guest’s presence.
He silently turned the hourglass to start the sands of time that would serve as a warning of when he would be losing the concealment charm. He placed his towel next to it, keeping his wand within reach in case he needed it.
Draco slipped into the water without making a sound, but Hermione noticed the slight swell of water that came up to her chin.
And that is when she opened her brown eyes to see his serious unblinking grays staring back at hers.
The brilliant owner of this site invited authors to post original fiction on his new site called fictioncentral to help test it. I have one chapter posted under the same pen name, Dark Whisper. So, should you be interested in my original writings that have nothing to do with HP, you can check that out. Naturally, it is a romance.
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time (Gather ye rosebuds) by Robert Herrick.
Carpe Diem credited to Quintus Horatius Flaccus.
The next chapter promises a lot of intimate Dramione action as this chapter was left with them sharing bathwater. What will they do? : )
Love to all,
An astounding 35,000 reads and 202 have Favorited. Amazing and Awesome! Thank you!
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