Draco's Delicate Condition

Chapter 8 - Mr. Malfoy's Wild Rides

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "Bloody flippin' bleeding hell."

Ron's impromptu and eloquent commentary said it all for himself, Harry and Ginny. The three spent a frigid Saturday morning watching Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff engaged in a Quidditch match for which the words 'brutal' and 'tenacious' barely made a start to describe the action on the pitch. The game lasted nearly four hours and at the end, the final score was 238 to 80. The hard fought and spectacular win went to Hufflepuff. Hermione sat with the others, spending her time completing two scrolls worth of extra credit Independent Astrolabe Studies.

Little Hannah Abbott the Hufflepuff seeker flew a victory run around the stadium, the golden snitch clutched tightly in her small fist. Behind the tiny girl, the entire Hufflepuff team flew in a victory V pattern; wands held high, brilliant yellow sparks trailing behind them like small suns. After a couple of laps around the pitch, the Hufflepuff team shot straight up into the sky at a 90-degree angle, until they were so high up they appeared as tiny as bumblebees over the pitch. Then, as one unit they shot straight back down as though headed for a suicidal engagement with the pitch sands. The stadium stands erupted in a nearly hysterical roar, an equal mix of approval and fear. As the Hufflepuff team plummeted down through the air, each flier pivoted like tops on their own axis. So fast did they spin they looked like indistinct blurs; the effect was like watching a waterfall tumbling downwards.

Hermione, and innumerable other observers leapt to their feet, screamed in terror. How could the fliers not lose orientation, how could they possibly tell when sky ended and the ground began? The frightening assumption was that the entire Hufflepuff team was observing some bizarre mass suicide. Hermione hid her eyes and could not stop screaming in terror. Harry, Ron, Ginny and the rest of the Gryffindor team were all desperate to close their eyes too, but watched on in horrified fascination. Down below on the pitch Madame Hooch went ballistic, blowing her whistle and screaming herself hoarse at the astoundingly dangerous and unexpected stunt.

When only 10 feet above the pitch, the Hufflepuff burst apart from each other at 45-degrees, evenly spread, still twirling like yellow tops, looking like a fountain spray. The effect was graceful and thrilling. Most of the audience in the stands stood and clapped. Even the recently drubbed Ravenclaw students and their amazed team leapt up and down at the thrilling display.

Poor Professor Hooch sat on the sidelines and began to seriously consider the merits of an early retirement from the teaching profession.

Hermione looked up when she heard the shouts and screams of happy excitement and saw the triumphant Hufflepuff team spreading out and up over the stadium. She too screamed and clapped her hands. "Harry!" she squealed, "Why doesn't Gryffindor put on an aerial show to celebrate after the game like the Hufflepuff team does?"

"I'll take your suggestion into consideration if we ever win a Quidditch match again in my lifetime, and if we're feeling particularly suicidal," Harry muttered glumly.

"That was unbelievable," said Ron incredulously. "I can't remember seeing moves like that at the bleeding World Cup. And Harry, during the game, did you see Captain Brockland run interference for his chaser? Wonderful! You know, except for the yellow robes, those Huffles' don't even look like Hufflepuff any more. Where are they learning this?"

"I heard Brockland went to that Quidditch training camp in Ireland," said Harry. "That training camp you went on about, you know, where the Chudley Cannons train summers."

"You heard that from me!" said Ginny looking justifiably annoyed. "I told you both since term's start. Hufflepuff means business. They're entirely an offensive team now and they train like maniacs. We might have had a chance at winning that game against them if we could have strategized from a varied approach. Hufflepuff switch their tactics faster than..."

"Quiet Ginny," said Ron gruffly. "The men are thinking."

Without looking up, Harry raised a hand and smacked Ron half-heartedly on the back of the head. "Behave Ronnikins. Uncle Harry has enough to worry about without you starting up the endless battle of the redheads."

Ginny said "Thank you Harry for taking on the onerous and thankless task of training my brother." She looked across Hermione and Harry to her brother. "He'll be trustworthy indoors before too long, won't he?"

"FOR THE LOVE OF...!" Harry yelled and shot up out of his seat. Hannah Abbot was headed straight as a bullet for the stands, headed straight for Harry. Harry's hands jerked, as if he was on his broomstick, attempting to veer out of the way of the approaching seeker. With only a few feet to spare, Hannah's broom skidded to a complete stop in front of Harry. The petite girl stared brazenly into Harry's green eyes; the girl's pink face shining with triumph and her diminutive hand tightly gripping the golden snitch by one wing. She sat straight and tall on her broomstick, blond hair loose and her yellow Quidditch robes hanging at her side, giving the her a regal look.

Harry could hear the free wing of the snitch, beating futilely against Hannah's delicate hand. It had the same effect on Harry that it had on Draco. Harry sensed a brutality, ferocity about Hannah. The girl was unsettling.

"Gryffindor." Hannah shouted addressing Harry, "Hufflepuff will always be grateful to you, forever. You did right by our Cedric. Hufflepuff will always love, respect and honor you."

Harry had his mouth open to speak, but he had no idea what to say.

"However," the girl continued without waiting for a response from Harry. "Quidditch is Quidditch. Gryffindor will be the next to go down." Hannah smiled a smile that was more than a little maniacal. Chills ran down the backs of all who watched her. Could the little hellion floating before Harry be the same formerly inoffensive Miss Abbot?

The Gryffindor stand, the stadium, was dead silent - the students who had begun to leave the stadium froze, staring at Hannah as intently as did Harry and the gang.

With the wild look like of a banshee fresh caught from the moors, Hannah threw her head back and cried out,

"V I C T O R Y - H U F F L E P U F F

T H E O N E I S T H E O T H E R!"

"Bloody hell," said Ron in a low and unsteady voice. "If her head starts to spin around like a top or she starts to barf up green swill, I'm OUT of here!"

Suddenly Harry was reaching out to nab the golden orb, which Hannah flung at him with all her strength. Nodding at Harry, Hannah and her broom flipped backwards in an aerial somersault on her broomstick. Without righting herself, she shot up into sky, upside down, flying for hundreds of feet before she veered off to the Hufflepuff area of the stadium. The Hufflepuff team, circling the area, followed Hannah and Captain Brockland off the pitch.

For several minutes, you could have heard a pin drop in the whole of the Quidditch stadium. Harry stared at the little metallic thing in his fingers that fluttered, less vigorously now because he always gave the snitch free use of its wings. Slowly, the buzz of excited students rose all around. No one - not ever - had ever seen the like.

"Damn me, but that Abbott's a scary little bint these days, isn't she?" drawled Draco's voice from behind the stunned little group of friends. Draco had shoved his way past Fred and George, Angelina, Katie and the rest of the Gryffindor team. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione jumped like a filibuster firework had gone off behind their backs. They turned to stare at Draco behind them.

"What next?" muttered Harry morosely.

Ron's face went dead red and he was already prepared to launch an attack on Draco.

"Easy there Potty, Weasel. It's me, Malfoy. You remember me, the other dangerous blonde?

Your enemy?" Draco smirked. "I suppose now I'm only 8^th place in queue behind the Hufflepuff lineup for that dubious honor."

"Wh, what do you want Malfoy?" Harry was still so blown away by Abbot's little demonstration that he couldn't manage to put an adequate amount of disdain into his voice.

Draco looked to Hermione, trying desperately to keep his face impassive, unconcerned. It worked too well and Hermione immediately, stood, shouldered her school bag and walked away towards the stadium exit stairs.

Ron watched Hermione leaving the stadium and he rallied. A huge smug grin spread across his face. "Trouble in paradise Malfoy?"

"Oh shut up Weasel," Draco said dismissively. "You wouldn't know paradise if it kissed your raggedy, underprivileged arse."

As Ron tried to leap at Draco, as if propelled by a spring, Harry automatically grabbed Ron's shoulders. Pulling Ron down onto the bench, Harry spoke quietly into Ron's ear. "Easy Ron. Stay out of Hermione's business," Harry then looked calmly at Draco and asked, "What do you want Malfoy?"

The question was answered quickly. Draco spun around and walked off without a word, headed in the opposite direction that Hermione took.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days after the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff game, Ron and Harry headed to Hagrid's care of Magical Creatures class that was a class shared by both Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

"So Harry, do you think Hermione's fling with the dark side is really over?" Ron sounded absolutely thrilled. "She looks absolutely miserable these days. Were you watching Hermione and Draco the last few days in Potions? She and Malfoy didn't say a single word to each other all lab. And she took swings at him twice!"

"They must be communicating through telepathy,' joked Harry, "they still managed to get full marks for their Ego Reduction potion. Too bad Malfoy didn't drink any."

"Malfoy," Ron walked through the meadow grasses angrily kicking at stones. "I'd say the slimy wanker has probably dumped Hermione and the poor girl is too embarrassed to admit that I was right about Malfoy. I'd love an excuse to rip his head off in class today."

"Cheer up, maybe today one of Hagrid's animals will bite Malfoy's head off for you. Nearly happened once," at that happy memory, Harry and Ron laughed and playfully punched each other in the arm.

Harry referred to an event a fortnight back. Hagrid's sweetheart, Madame Maxime generously loaned Hagrid a Beauxbaton School giant winged horse for Hagrid to display in his Magical Creatures classes. Although the massive horses survive on a diet of malt whiskey, this particular animal enjoyed chewing straw as though enjoying a nice stick of chewing gum. As the class stood around admiring the beast, the winged horse mistook Draco's golden hair for straw. The animal latched onto Draco's hair and lifted him clear off the ground. When Draco screamed, the horse launched itself into the air and flew half way across the meadow carrying Draco by his golden locks. Hagrid was holding the lead line and was jerked off his feet. When Draco screamed bloody murder the animal released him and Draco plummeted nearly thirty feet to the ground. Although Draco landed largely unhurt - he was more embarrassed and humiliated than anything - he pitched a fit. Hermione spent the better part of the afternoon soothing Draco and convincing him that the flying horse was not a danger. If it weren't for Hermione, Hagrid would probably still be waiting for the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Control of Magical Creature's squad to attempt decapitation of yet another of Hagrid's beloved creatures, as was the case with Buckbeak the hippogriff.

Harry and Ron sniggered at the memory of Malfoy hanging by his fair hair from the massive jaws of the winged horse. Entertainment just didn't get any better than that.

"Malfoy doesn't look too shook up about breaking Hermione's heart, does he, the rat-bag?" groused Harry pointing at Draco who marched along several hundred feet ahead of Harry and Ron. Harry felt awful for Hermione but there was nothing he could do for her but sympathize. "And where is Hermione anyway?" Harry looked back toward the castle, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen, among the Gryffindor and Slytherin students headed for Hagrid's class.

"Too bad Malfoy's here," grumbled Ron. "Couldn't you just kick that skinny arse of his from now until Sunday? Look at the git! Marching along singing that... that... stupid song... without a care in the world, and my... our poor Hermione is heartbroken."

"You know," said Harry. "Ron, maybe I've been too hard on you about Draco. I say if that git doesn't stop singing that annoying song, tonight we get my invisibility cloak, sneak over to his commons, ambush and KILL him," Harry was joking of course; more or less.

Ahead of Harry and Ron marching over the flat expanse of grasses, Malfoy was also headed for Care of Magical Creatures class. Draco was belting out an impromptu song at the top of his considerable lungpower. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco marched along, Draco swinging his Starshotz racing broom like a baton. He had Quidditch practice after Hagrid's class. When Draco was feeling particularly downhearted singing was one of his defense mechanisms to defuse his worries. No doubt, Draco's preference for making up his own lyrics contributed to the fact that he found it hard to sing out loud without laughing. He knew he sucked at lyrics and therein laid the fun.

"I'M SLIP, SLIP, SLIDIN N' SLYTHERIN UP

MY GRYFF - IF -IF - IN - DOR BA-AY-BEEE

NO IFS ANDS OR MAY - AY - BEES

YEAH, SHE'S MY GRYFFINDOR BAY-AY-BEE!"

Crabbe and Goyle marched silently along near Draco. They knew if he was singing, something was bothering him although they had no idea what his problem was. Goyle for his part, didn't care. He was still upset with Draco for whatever it was Messalina was upset over. However as upset as Goyle was, habit won out. Goyle marched alongside Crabbe trailing after Draco. Draco bounced along ahead of them, belted out his impromptu song at the top of his lungs, the last line or two hopping in a way that looked remarkable like a '50s rock n' roll duckwalk.

"THEM RAVEN GIRLS GOT CLAWS

GIRLS IN HUFF THEY GOT THAT STUFF

BUT FROM HERE TO THE GREAT HALL-ALL-ALL

MY GRYFFINDOR BABY'S GOT IT ALL-ALL-ALL!"

Things were dicey for Draco. It was all he could do to get through Potions classes without speaking to Hermione. Draco was sure that Hermione was furious with him, and he didn't want to risk her rounding on him in class. What if he lost his composure and got snively or worse, violent? He'd spent the better part of the past month beating the crap out his Slytherin competition and the last thing he needed was to have anyone see him showing weakness or a lack of control.

It pleased Draco to no end that Hagrid's class was next, but not because he enjoyed the class, in fact, he hated it. However two weeks never passed that Draco didn't find an excuse to kick up a fuss and disrupt the class. Fuss in Hagrid's class was fun because Hagrid never removed points or assigned detentions to anyone. So with a little luck, today in Hagrid's class maybe Draco'd find an excuse to kick Harry or Ron's pathetic arses. Draco skipped forward a few steps, and whipped his Starshotz racing broomstick into service as a guitar and he bellowed out the last stanza to his song.

"THEM RAVENCLAW GIRLS ARE TRYING

THOSE HUFF'L PUFF GIRLS ARE FLYING

THOSE SLYTHERIN GIRLS DON'T BE LYIN'

SO BEWARE LITTLE GRYFFINDOR, I TELL YOU WHAT

YOUR DRACO'S A' SLYTHERIN UP YOUR..."

No one knew what Draco might have been 'slytherin up' because Ron's textbook hit its mark, bouncing off Draco's head.

"Damn it Weasel, you catsup-headed, indigent!" Draco yelled. Charging Ron, he flung the textbook at Ron's head.

"Harry," shouted Ron, ducking his textbook as it came sailing back, "If he's going to sing, you'd think the git would at least learn to rhyme properly."

"Or sing," muttered Harry looking around for something to fling at Draco.

Without a word, Crabbe and Goyle moved between the warring factions hindering the efforts of the boys to cause each other damage. Draco Ron and Harry continued to fling insults rather than textbooks but finally gave it up. All five boys headed towards Hagrid's hut. No doubt about it; Crabbe and Goyle were sometimes well worth their keep.

The class assembled in the open pasture beyond Hagrid's hut. They wondered what exotic and thoroughly dangerous creature Hagrid was going to endanger them with this time around. Hagrid loved dodgy animals. With rare exception, the more likely a creature was to poison, burn, sting, bite or stomp someone to death, the more likely the animal was to show up in one of Hagrid's classes.

Draco had an uneasy feeling about today's lesson and he hadn't even laid eyes on the 'feckin' beast of the day' yet. Like Harry and Ron, he was unnerved because Hermione still hadn't showed up for class and it was not like her to be late, especially for a class taught by her oversized friend Hagrid.

Draco decided to start up the war again. He put his broom on the ground and quipped to Crabbe and Goyle, "So boys, what do you think the odds are that this week's creature will lick it's lips over a nice black pudding" Draco pointed to Harry's shiny black hair, " with a strawberry topping for dessert? He pointed at Ron's red hair. "Not a very RICH topping, but there you are!" Draco snickered at his own jests. Crabbe and Goyle who didn't seem to get the joke, laughed 'heh, heh, heh.' anyway.

Harry and Ron heard Draco's flippant remark and understood.

"I'd make myself scarce if I were you Malfoy," said Ron. " I heard today's beast fancies a diet of arse-holes."

"Ron, would you say that's a rich diet of arse-holes or a diet of rich arse-holes?" Harry smirked. "Probably wouldn't make a difference, but thought I'd check."

Draco was about to launch an attack on Harry when Hagrid came from around the corner of his hut, a lead rope in hand. Everyone held his or her breath momentarily - wondering what fantastical beast was at the end of the rope.

Hagrid wore a large grin, and he stopped to pull on the lead rope. Hagrid said in a coaxing voice, "Come on up, come on!"

Around the corner hopped a creature that at first glance, looked rather like a massive kangaroo - more or less. The class chattered and gasped excitedly, as the huge creature leaned forward, resting on it's miniscule fore legs.

Harry, Ron and the rest of the class excitedly moved forward when they saw the exciting beast. They all spoke in excited voices and nearly everyone had questions. Draco took one look at the beast and blanched.

"This," announced Hagrid proudly, "is a Marsh Soupeel, the only British creature with a pouch for rearing its young. This one is from Loch Ness in Scotland. These lovely creatures are highly magical, used for transportation by the ancient folk of..."

The creature resembled a kangaroo superficially in that it had tiny forelegs, massive hind legs and huge feet with a head without much storage space for brains. But there the resemblance ended for the animal was decidedly aquatic with webbed forefeet. The Soupeel had a head that resembled an elk - that is an elk with little visible hair. The creature sat stupidly staring at the students, flicking its long thin tail that sported a flat fin-like appendage at the end.

Hagrid pulled on the creature's lead. Bracing its weight on its stumpy forelegs the creature inched its massive hind legs forward as would a kangaroo. The creature then sat up, its head soaring even higher than Hagrid's.

With a wide and proud grin, Hagrid called towards the animal, "Oi, come on out now!"

The animal had thin horizontal slit half way up its belly, the opening to its pouch. The pouch jiggled and the slit opened and up popped Hermione's head. "Ta Da!" she said in as happy a voice as anyone had heard her use since her troubles with Draco began.

At sight of Hermione popping out of the beastly pouch, Draco lurched and almost fainted. No one noticed however, for all were staring at Hermione.

Everyone in the class gasped, then everyone - except Draco - broke into wild applause. At the sound of the applause, the creature reared up its head, snorted like an angry horse and leapt high into the air. Landing clear of the students on the other side, the animal vaulted away.

"WHOA!" screamed Hagrid, pulling back on the lead line. But the lead snapped at the neck collar and the massive beast leapt kangaroo like, to the Forbidden Forest beyond the pasture.

Draco nearly lost his mind. "UP!" he screamed with a hysterical pitch to his hoarse voice. His Starshotz flew to his hand. Leaping onto his broom he kicked off after the rapidly retreating Marsh Soupeel.

Harry and Ron barely had time to take it all in, their hearts beating in their throats. The two broke into a run after the Soupeel. Hagrid leapt forward and grabbed them by their robes. "No you don't! Hermione isn't in any danger unless she tries to get out of the pouch, and she knows better than that."

"Are you sure she's all right?" shouted Ron, hyperventilating.

"No worries Ron, Harry. The silly beast ran off with Hermione yesterday two or three times. She had the time of her life. She looked like she could use a good laugh. So, no worries, the Soupeel will circle round and come back here inside of ten or fifteen minutes. The beast knows I've got her feed she won't go far. Hermione's in no danger at all."

"Hagrid," ventured Harry, "what about Malfoy?"

"Well... Malfoy's another story." Hagrid looked thoughtful. "I suppose if he only follows the beast; he'll be back here quick enough.

Draco's heart was in his throat. He zipped and whizzed past tree after tree, dodging in and out of the huge tree trunks like an agility trained dog, dodging poles. He flew low, only about ten feet above the ground, afraid of losing sight of the animal if he flew too high. All the while he cut narrowly through the trees, he desperately tried to keep the infernal thing in sight.

He desperately wanted to whip out his wand and zap the beast, but he was afraid it would somehow keel forward and crush Hermione. Besides, he was shaking with fear for Hermione and thought that his aim would be off. Draco wondered if Potter felt that way when he was off chasing Mountain Trolls and Hungarian Horntails?

Meanwhile, warm and toasty on the crisp day, Hermione was curled up in the Soupeel's roomy pouch. She slurped a hot chocolate from a large lidded tankard. She sighed happily and leaned back against the warm velvety furred stomach of the Soupeel. She felt as if she was reclining in a Sea Otter fur lined hammock that rocked gently. She was reminded of the gentle motion of the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione thought the pink baby Marsh Soupeel that snoozed in her lap was quite lucky. Hermione wished she could keep the baby as a pet. She scratched the adorable creature by the yellowish light that filtered through the thin furred skin of the Soupeel's pouch. She shut her eyes and felt sleepy enough to doze off. She hadn't had much sleep since the afternoon she had been a prat, pestering Draco until the poor dear lost his temper and chased her away. How could she have been so thoughtless? She was ashamed of her behavior that afternoon. Grabbing at Draco's trousers like some sort of Knut-novel harlot. What must Draco think of her? Draco's little 'Gryffindor Princess' indeed. She longed to hear Draco's silky voice speaking to her again.

Draco soared dodging tree limbs behind the Soupeel. The leaping animal cut a sharp angle to the right. The turn was so smooth and rapid that Draco almost completely missed seeing the animal veer off. He veered too, and at last Draco's instincts took over. He realized that tailing the animal was not working. He would have to head it off. As he saw a spare space not totally locked in with trees, he headed for it, shooting straight up, above the trees. He cleared the treetops climbing, aiming in the direction the Soupeel was headed. Draco was at the maximum speed of his Starshotz. Once he thought he was ahead of the creature, he halted, looking down his eyes peeled for the animal. Suddenly he saw it loping along, headed straight for a small meadow. Draco shot for the meadow as fast as he could, pulling out his wand as he did so. As he arrived at the meadow ahead of the Soupeel, he suddenly knew what he was going to do. He hovered high enough over the empty space that the creature didn't see him as it leaped into the clearing. Draco bellowed a spell that he wasn't even aware that he knew.

"Funiscollum!"

Just as the Soupeel flashed out from the surrounding forest a golden rope shot from the end of Draco's wand. As soon as the golden line was headed for the animal, Draco flipped his Starshotz and shot upward into the sky. The golden glittering lasso roped the animal around the neck, and the line went taut. As the relatively obedient animal felt the pull on its neck, it skidded to a halt, dropped its head and started to peacefully graze.

Draco felt the pull below, and eyes shut with dread, he pulled his Starshotz to a standstill and peered down. The animal was not moving! He wasted no time to enjoy the feelings of relief that flooded him. He streaked down to the meadow and landed alongside the animal that lazily flicked its ears at him and munched red fairy clover.

"Petals! PETALS!" Draco screamed. He dropped his Starshotz and held firmly to his wand that was attached to line looped around the neck of the Soupeel.

Holding up a hand, Draco slowly approached the animal. "You stupid, prawn-headed, ... If she's got so much as a painful hangnail, I'll have them serve you up tomorrow for the entrée!"

He inched forward, terrified the animal was going to bite his head off or at the very least, trample him. For some reason, Draco never had much luck with animals. The ghastly things always seemed to feel that he meant them harm - go figure. He inched up to the animal as rapidly as he dared, and when he touched the creature it ignored him. He exhaled nervously. Pulling open the pouch Draco's voice cracked as he whispered, "Petals? Are you all right?"

There was no answer. Draco's heard pounded even faster. The damned beast must have chucked her out of its pouch out miles back. Hermione must be lying unconscious, lost and helpless in the Forbidden Forest. Panicked and fear filled, Draco pulled the pouch wider and peered in. He gasped, there was Hermione crunched down; an ugly pink hairless thing clutched in her arms, as though she was subduing it. Draco was just about to rip the hideous pink thing out of Hermione's arms so he could stomp it to death, when Hermione's eyes flicked opened.

"Draco?" asked Hermione startled. She rubbed her sleepy eyes.

"Who else? What the devil are you doing in that, that, that... thing's pouch?" Draco scolded.

He took Hermione's hand, fussing angrily as he assisted her in clambering out of the pouch, the baby Soupeel in her arms. Hermione offered the pink baby to Draco who leapt back in alarm, as if Hermione were handing him a rattlesnake. Hermione shrugged and placed the baby back into its mother's pouch.

"Oh Draco... you thought I was in danger didn't you? You rescued me!" Hermione's eyes began to tear but she was smiling, her perfect teeth glittering. "You came after me and rescued me."

At this point, Draco ought to have said, "Anything for you my darling!" And in her turn, Hermione ought to have said "My hero!" after which they ought to have fallen into each other's arms and a romantic snog ought to have taken place. Alas, no such thing happened.

"Petals!" Draco exploded. "You... you... STUPID witch! You ought to have more brains than to go riding around inside - INSIDE, mind you - one of Hagrid's bloody beasts from hell!

Draco staggered a 'safe' distanced from the Soupeel and sank weak-kneed to the ground, his head between his knees.

I thought I'd drop dead when that monstrous thing ran off with her. What if it had killed her?"

Draco trembled from the after effects of his massive adrenaline rush.

Hermione sat next to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry I worried you Cocoa, really I am, but I wasn't in any danger. The Soupeel is as gentle as a lamb."

"Gentle as a lamb? Gentle? I was BITTEN by a lamb once!" Draco wagged his long ago bitten forefinger in Hermione's face. "Look. Just LOOK at it! I'll carry that scar for the rest of my life."

Hermione stifled a giggle but said a sympathetic 'tut tut tut' over Draco's finger. There was nothing she could see on the finger other than a well manicured fingernail. "Poor Draco. You are so..."

"Don't, don't you DARE tell me I'm sweet!" Draco looked up, his eyes looked as dark as charcoal against his blanched white face. "Damn it, you, you infernal Gryffindor muggleborn witch!"

Startled Hermione pulled back from Draco. "Maybe Ron and Harry are right about you." She didn't mean it.

"So you still hate me?" asked Draco softly, his breath still ragged.

"Hate you? No. I could never hate you." Hermione thought there could be no more confusing wizard on the entire planet. Unless Draco was about to pound or insult some other boy, puzzling out Draco's feelings was like attempting to take tease apart an automobile with tweezers. "Are you still angry with me Draco?"

Draco glanced up, a look of complete mystification on his face. Hermione thinking that he could ever be angry with her? Well, sure, he might scream at her a bit, and on occasion call her rude and objectionable names but could he ever really feel anger towards her? Of course he wouldn't; he couldn't. Draco's thoughts were all the more amazing considering he'd spent the past several minutes repressing urges to smack Hermione silly for the unpardonable crime of endangering her own life.

"Angry with you? Has your Fugu slipped off your crisp? Bloody hell, why would I be angry with you Petals?"

Hermione peered into Draco's blanched face. "Because I behaved like a... because I behaved so badly back in our... your hideaway?"

"You behaved badly?" Draco spoke gently. "You are joking aren't you? I mean, how else could you have behaved back at 'our' hideaway. What with ME lying there, half naked, looking all gorgeous and everything. How could you help yourself?" He took Hermione's chin with one hand, his other hand still tightly gripping his wand and the lead rope. "You're only mortal after all. It was my fault for taking off my shirt in the first place."

Hermione stared at Draco. Life would be infinitely easier if she could tell when he was joking or not.

The Soupeel still tranquilly grazed, filling the cold meadow air with the sound of munching.

"Do you forgive me?" asked Draco. "I mean, earlier, I called you stupid. You're really not. Not very."

Hermione sat with her head buried in her arms on her knees. Finally she spoke. "Draco, what is all of this nonsense about? Why don't you just tell me what is wrong? Something is wrong but I have no idea what the problem is. When will you tell me? I can't go on like this. I mean it."

It was Draco's turn to drop his head back between his knees to hide his face from Hermione.

Why couldn't I just have something simple to explain, like 'Goodness me Petals, I've got three really nasty venereal diseases all drippy and oozy, and some hellacious genital warts bigger than limes.' Why couldn't I have something easy to say like that?

When Draco looked back to Hermione, moisture glistened in his beautiful silver eyes. He quickly dropped his head down, rubbing his face on his sleeve. For Draco moist eyes were near to the equivalent of an emotional breakdown. He said in a rough voice. "I don't suppose you'd believe that I've got a really beastly, lime sized...? No," Draco's mind retreated to his first line of defense. "I'm the wizard here. I don't have to explain myself to a witch. You only need to do what I tell you and hear what I decide you need to hear. My concerns are none of your business... mudblood."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Draco, you irritating, infuriating brat. What a lot of crap! Mr. Draco Malfoy, I wish I had the strength to put you over my knee because I would. You only call me by that filthy name because you'd rather scare me away than tell me what is bothering you. But you are not going to scare me away, do you hear me Mr. Malfoy? You will confide in me!"

Draco cleared this throat several times before he trusted his voice to be heard. He looked up boldly, drawling as if he had heard nothing of what Hermione said. "Let's take this stupid hulking beast back to Hagrid," he stood and assisted Hermione to her feet. He snatched Hermione's hand protectively and walked on, leading the little group back to the safety of Hogwarts.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was as perfect a Friday afternoon as Ron could imagine. He skived off his scheduled library study time and instead spent the afternoon with his new lover - his very first. It was only mid afternoon and Ron was already dreading the dinner hour when he and his girl would inevitably break up and go about their own way as if nothing had happened between them. But meanwhile for Ron there was the heaven of sitting side by side on an ancient Victorian fainting couch up in the Astronomy tower, under the bright light of day, admiring the view. The view consisted of the lovely young lady who sat by Ron's side.

"Whoa!" Ron wiped his sweaty fringe, and stretched an arm behind the beauty's body to playfully pat her bare rear. "Great fun that. Did you have fun too?"

"What silly questions you ask Weasley! Of course that was wonderful," Messalina snuggled under Ron's school robe draped over herself and Ron. "Here I have something for you," the chestnut haired beauty said. "Close your eyes."

She didn't have to ask Ron twice. Ron happily closed his eyes and opened his mouth slightly in preparation for another languid kiss. They'd done this before, or so he thought. A sharp pain in his right ear jolted Ron, making him leap up into the air as though levitated.

"AAAARRGGGGGGHHHHH!" Ron clamping his hand to his right ear, which felt as if someone had bitten it in half. "Bloody hell what the do you think you're doing?"

"Here." Messalina put down her wand and pulled a hand mirror out of her school bag. She held the mirror up to Ron's face. "Do you like it? You look darling."

"NO!" Ron stared hard into the mirror. Two golden orbs the size of peas sitting side by side were studded to the top of Ron's ear. "What the... earrings?" Ron sputtered, and stared at the girl in amazement.

"Don't you like them?" Messalina asked in a breathless voice. "Now you are truly a Gryffindor; red and Gold." She gently tugged on a lock of Ron's fox-red hair with her pearly white teeth.

"Earrings? Girls don't give boys earrings! What," he lost the end of his sentence from the first moment he felt the small, warm, pink tongue licking the droplets of blood from his newly pierced ear. "Ahhh... the piercing doesn't really hurt... much. Only you caught me by surprise."

"Oh Ron, I wish I could take you and show you off to my sister Blaize. It's so hard being kept a secret."

Ron felt a little guilty. "I know... but it's not as if you would want your fellow Slytherin knowing that you're dating... um... seeing... or something... a Gryffindor boy, now would you?" Ron searched Messalina's eyes for the agreement he hoped was there.

"Of course not." Messalina purred. She lowered her eyes demurely. "It's so unfair Ron. Draco Malfoy can run about with whomever he wishes, like that poor Gryffindor girl, Granger. A friend of yours, right?"

"Sort of." Feeling a sudden need to change the subject, Ron ran his hands over Messalina and began to kiss her neck.

"Ron, if Malfoy found out that I was seeing you, straight away that evil boy would send his owl to my parents and I'd be in a great deal of trouble. You know how unreasonable parents are, don't you?"

"Uh... sure." Ron continued in the mesmerizing exploration of the girl's body. This was what his brothers had told him about for so long. They were right. It was a bit of heaven.

"But Ron," Messalina looked thoughtful. "You are a long time friend of Granger aren't you? I always see you, Granger and Potter running around together. But not as much since that awful Draco Malfoy forced his way into Granger's life. It is so stressful to think of the awful things he did to me, and that he must be doing to Granger - the poor girl. But I suppose that is none of your concern. And anyway, I realize it's not as if women are defended these days."

"Awful things Malfoy did to you?" asked Ron, who stopped kissing Messalina's elegant neck long enough to hear a word or two. "What awful things?"

"Malfoy is callous and cruel. But I don't want to talk about that now..." Tears welled up in Messalina's eyes.

"Oh no! Don't cry 'Salina!" Ron reached over onto the floor by the couch, snatching up his discarded jumper. He used it to gently dab at the tears that trickled down Messalina's pink cheeks. "That Malfoy." Ron snarled. "He thinks he can just waltz around, dishonor innocent young ladies and then march off and there you are! I have never hated anyone as much as I hate that bastard... Oh. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to curse in front of you, 'dear'." Now Ron was blushing. Messalina's tears dried, he endeavored again to dishonor the young Miss Zabini for himself. Rolling, Ron flipped the girl onto her back and lay over her. "This stupid tower is so cold. I wish we could take all of our clothing off. Oh well. So, you want to go again?"

"Ron," Messalina pushed her hands up against the eager Ron. She looked up at him through her thick black lashes; her blue eyes the colour of cornflowers. "Ron you're a real man, not like that brute Malfoy. If only someone like you could teach him a thing or two, if only Malfoy wasn't so powerful."

"What, Malfoy too powerful? Wha', that git?"

"No, oh no! I not saying that you are weak or anything. I only mean that Malfoy has such a powerful family and he is formidable match at the wand."

"I've watched Harry Potter beat Malfoy in a wizard's duel. Piece of cake!"

"Yes. A piece." The girl licked her lips, her head nodding.

The blood rushed out of Ron's head to take up post in other regions.

"Yes Ron," purred Messalina. "Yes, Potter is a match for Malfoy."

"Harry and Malfoy are not the only ones at Hogwarts that are handy with a wand." Ron protested at Messalina's assumptions about his own prowess. There was no longer a smile or a smirk on Ron's face.

"Now Ron, you don't have to let thinking about that bully Malfoy ruin our afternoon together."

"Oh right, good. Let's have another go." Ron dove for Messalina's mouth but the girl turned her head and he ended up sticking his tongue into her ear instead.

"Oh Ron! That's my ear you silly boy! Messalina giggled. "Oooo Ron, you do have the most darling ears I believe I have ever seen." The girl ran her manicured fingers over Ron's blushing ears. "Those snowy white ears buried under all that delicious red hair. You look sumptuous, like strawberry triffle; why I could eat you up!"

It occurred to Ron, he had never before so appreciated the general concept of 'eat you up'.

I can't resist your ears, your nose," Messalina playfully pinched Ron's stomach. "Or the rest of you for that matter," she ran her hands down Ron's bare back.

"Oh. But wait, you've distracted me." Ron rose out of his hormone fog momentarily. "About these earrings, I can't accept them!"

"But you gave me a present last weekend didn't you?" Messalina murmured.

"Yes, but that was a different sort of... present." Ron blushed, and of course the blush started right at the tips of his 'darling ears'. "And it was certainly a present for the both of us..." He shut his eyes and again curiously lost track of whatever it was he had meant to say. That happened a lot when he was with Messalina. The boy looked at Messalina as though the girl was a toothsome lamb chop and he was a wolf that hadn't eaten in days.

Messalina pulled Ron closer and favored him with the long kiss he'd hungered for. Ron gasped as Messalina boldly shoved her hand down Ron's skivvies. "You are something 'Selina!" Ron squealed with residual embarrassment. Seconds later the contented redhead could not speak at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that same day during the Quidditch team practice, Ron's mind was primarily on his afternoon spent with his 'Selina'. Due to the influence of Draco's team management, all four Quidditch teams now used ground exercises as a base for training. The first portion of practice now consisted of running laps, which Ron managed on legs as shaky as a new colt. Following ground training when the Gryffindor team was broom mounted and flying, Ron's lack of attentiveness nearly got him decapitated. Ron was woolgathering when a bludger whizzed past him. Happily, Ron was not the only Weasley on the team however, and where Harry was too polite to round on his best friend, Ginny was not. Yelling at her brother was second nature and she didn't hesitate to bully Ron into order during practice.

After practice, Harry thought ruefully, he could just kiss Ginny in gratitude for her efforts to keep Ron on track. Harry realized that he could kiss Ginny whatever the hell she did, up to and including nothing. The possibility of Harry's ever getting to do such a thing seemed more and more remote, however that is off the point, another story altogether.

Ron made it through team practice without totally making a fool of himself. After practice when everyone was showered and changed, the Gryffindor team met to discuss team strengths, weaknesses and strategies. Ron was still mentally lolling around on the fainting couch in the empty Astronomy Tower.

"So Ron, what do you think?" asked Harry.

Ron sat crosswise on the team bench, staring off into the distance, not having heard his name spoken.

Harry did something he rarely did. He lost his temper with Ron. In a bit of passive/aggressive behavior, Harry slammed his clipboard down on the meeting table as hard as he could manage. The force of the slam made the clothes lockers rattle and team mates bolt up in surprise.

Ron nearly fell off the team bench.

"What is the matter with you Harry?" Ron asked indignantly, pulling himself upright.

"What's wrong with me?" asked an exasperated Harry. "I've been talking for twenty minutes. You're still assistant Captain and the team strategist, aren't you? We're waiting for your strategy report if you don't mind joining us here for a while."

"Oh," Ron fumbled. "Um... well, I have nothing to say at this time. I'll report at practice on Thursday."

"You promised to have your report ready today," Harry said, his voice strained as he tried to show patience to his dearest and oldest friend.

"Ron?" asked Angelina Johnson. The girl leaned forward, peering at Ron curiously. "When did you get your ear pierced then?"

The entire team perked up and leaned forward to stare at Ron's newly studded ear.

"Look," said Fred. "Our Ron's got himself a couple of extra bollocks! They're kind of small, teeny really, but that's no bother, they are golden!"

The entire team, including Harry, began to laugh whole heartedly at the tension breaker.

"Our Dad's going to be right proud," George sniggered.

Ron turned beet red and clamped his hand over his ear. "Uh... listen, are we here to discuss strategy or my bloody ear?"

"Your ear is rather bloody at that," said Ginny. She stood, walked over to Ron and peeled his hand from his ear. "Oh dear. Mom is going to KILL you Ron!"

"Charlie has an earring," Ron said defensively.

"Come off it Ron," said George. "Charlie is a grown man out on his own so he can pierce whatever he fancies."

"Aye," added Fred. "And you can guess what Charlie fancies best. He's got an interesting piercing I can tell you! But Charles's not one to show and tell. Well, unless you're a pretty girl. Bet he'd show you his piercings Angelina," Fred winked at Angelina.

Giggling, Angelina ricocheted a balled up sock off the top of Fred's head before he could recommend peeks at anything else of interest.

"Ginny's right Ron," said George sniggering. "When Mum sees your tiny balls she's going to give you a whole new set of holes for your head. So you'd better come up with a better defense than 'Charlie has an earring' before you face off with her."

"Speaking of defense?" interrupted Harry who was still chuckling. "Ron, I know you worked on strategies all last week. I don't know what you've gotten into since then."

In fact, Ron had gotten 'into' more than he'd thought possible over the past few weeks. His life had become one happy whirl of nasty boy thoughts. Ron's face blushed so deep a vermilion that he ducked his head down to review the parchments notes from his school bag on the floor.

Ron was grateful that Seamus wasn't on the Quidditch team. Seamus always cut to the chase at the slightest hint of... improprieties and Ron wasn't ready to be hounded about his activities by either friend or foe.

"As Ginny has brought up already," Ron smiled and nodded at his sister. "The team that wins against Hufflepuff is going to be the team that can switch strategies the way Hufflepuff does, instantaneously."

Fred counted on his fingers. "That was six syllables. Ron, someone ought have put some holes in that head of yours long time ago."

"Knock it off Fred," said Ron grinning. "Now, the way we can do that is..."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The trees surrounding the meadow were the sort associated with Halloween, hangman's nooses and graveyards. The full moon overhead sent anemic yellow light to flood the meadow intermittently when the ink black clouds overhead allowed.

Draco stood in the meadow, his heart pounding so rapidly it hurt. He shifted nervously from one bare foot to the other on the sharp pebbles and stones. He wasn't sure just how much trouble he was in for. Was he going to be punished before hand or did they think that the ceremony alone was punishment enough? Draco broke nearly all of the rules, worst of which was consorting with a muggleborn witch of impure blood, the friend of the hated Harry Potter. No matter. Draco decided he wasn't going to wait for them to get to him. Running away was not going to be easy because he was stripped of all clothing, standing as naked as the last time he saw this meadow, as an infant. Draco blew his misted breath on his white chilblained fingers and rubbing his arms, trying to warm himself from friction, but it was no good - he was freezing. The frosty breeze whipped over his bare skin. Pimply bumps rose on his flesh like tiny toadstools on damp rich soil. Draco thought with luck he might just die of the cold before they got round to him.

Noticing motion Draco turned to see a long line of black robed and hooded figures. At first he mistook them for dementors. No, the figures were Death Easters marching to the center of the meadow. The silent figures climbed up stone steps onto an immense and wheel-like platform large enough for the twelve hooded ones to stand along its perimeter, spaced and facing the center of the stone stage.

Shivering ferociously, Draco's teeth chattering, he stared at the stage - a green quavering light flashed up from the stage center. A black stone altar appeared out of the air - a massive serpent with red eyes coiled around the altar base. Draco stared at a black hooded figure which disapparated by the altar. The figure pulled back his hood and Draco gasped, stumbled, tripping painfully backwards over the sharp rocks strewn through the low meadow grass. The figure was unmistakably that of Dark Lord. The face of the Dark Lord was vile; serpentine with two blood red openings that looked like knife slits in an overstuffed green leather sofa - like the Slytherin Common chairs. Dark Lord raised his arm, a bony claw-like hand stretched out from the sleeve. Draco gasped aloud as the thin skeletal forefinger of the Dark Lord pointed right at Draco. The finger moved, unmistakably beckoning Draco to come forward.

"No, I won't." Draco looked around desperately for his parents. They wouldn't allow this to happen. "Mother?" Draco called in the still air. "Father?" Draco begged desperately. "Father!"

Another movement caught Draco's eyes and he noticed a thirteenth hooded figure approaching the base of the stairs at the stone stage. The figure pulled back its hood - Lucius Malfoy - Draco's father. Lucius raised his arm towards his son and joined the Dark Lord in beckoning Draco to come forward.

As if.

Draco turned and bolted, his bare feet scarcely touching ground as he sprinted away from the altar, towards the darkened forest. Draco wailed in pain as he fell forward painfully onto the stone steps, busting the skin of his shins and skinning his arms on the cold black granite. Draco was dizzied. Running away was futile. He pushed himself up on the stone steps to stand, rubbing a bruised palm against his bare stomach, his other hand against his bloody shin. Had he accidentally doubled back? No, as he tried to escape they apparated him over to the altar steps. Draco's father still standing at the base of the steps, grasped Draco by the arms and pushed, dragged, the whimpering boy up the stone steps towards the altar.

"You will do what you are told boy. What you are told," his father said in a firm voice. The same firm voice that always told Draco to stand straight and hold his eye contact steady.

Draco wanted to plead with his father but his words, the screams, were lodged in his throat, like a hard and bitter lozenge. They were going to do it. They were going to do it no matter what.

Lucius dragged Draco the last six feet, the boy's bare feet scraping against the granite leaving dark red stains from Draco's many cuts and bruises. Lucius shoved Draco forcefully toward Dark Lord. Draco fell against the robes of the Dark Lord. In panic, Draco felt the icy grip of Lord Voldemort's claw-like hands on his shoulders, whipping Draco around and bending him forward at the waist over the altar. As the side of the pale boy's face slammed painfully against the cold and damp altar he could feel coils of slippery rope wrap around his neck pinning him down. Draco tried to push against the altar but the same slippery, slimy ropes biting tightly into his thin wrists now tightly bond his bruised hands. Draco was as helpless as a trussed Christmas goose. In terror, his grey haunted eyes shot back and forth over the hooded figures in his field of view, looking for someone to help him - anyone. Then he saw his father, take a spot with the other Death Eaters to make up the complimentary sign of thirteen - the full number of Death Eaters necessary to perform the ceremony. Lucius Malfoy looked somewhat worried, but he calmly nodded at Draco. Things were progressing well. Lucius called out - proudly - 'Good boy Draco'.

A stream of hot fiery liquid streaming down Draco's bare legs - he realized with dread and shame that he was urinating on himself. The urine burned where it streamed over the bruises and cuts on his pale legs. Why couldn't they just decapitate him? That would be less humiliating, less terrifying, less embarrassing. Draco shivered so hard against the black granite that the top altar stone rattled. He turned his head straining, the slippery ropes yielding, allowing him to look into the reptilian face of Dark Lord. The Dark Lord, his face in a hideous leer, salaciously opened his black robes. Dark Lord called out in a cold but triumphant voice, "I claim the invested powers stored in this, my slave and soon I shall claim the world as is my right!"

Frozen with dread and sobbing uncontrollably, Draco felt the gnarled claws roughly grab at his hips. There followed an agonizing searing pain.

"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Draco bolted upright in bed, screaming over and over an over again. When he realized he was in his own four-poster Draco stopped screaming. His throat was hoarse and ached. He trembled, his breath coming in quick wheezing gulps. His sheets were bathed in sweat, his wet hot hair plastered to his scalp. Hesitant, he put a shaking hand under the covers and felt his naked crotch - no, he hadn't wet himself. How or why he didn't wet himself was always a mystery too him following his horrifying dreams. In his nightmares he could always clearly feel the release of his bladder as it quivered, the pungent hot liquid streamed stinging down his bare legs. Draco sat for fifteen minutes, wiping his sweaty brow, waiting for his trembling to subside, for his heart rate to drop. He sat terrified, and as usual, crying was out of the question.

Would Crabbe be too bummed if he woke and I was curled up next to him? No, it'd keep everyone guessing which is always good, but too humiliating on top of everything else. And forget Goyle, he'd smother me on the spot with a pillow.

Why did he have that damned dream again? Draco much 'preferred' the dream about the Hellhounds tearing off his flesh down to the skeleton, his bare boned feet clattering over the slippery rocks as he ran away, his intestines dragging behind him. Yes, the Hellhound dream was far and away less upsetting than the rape dream. Even the dream where the Death Eaters laid him on the altar using his father's skinning knives to disemboweled him alive was a skip in the rose garden in comparison to the rape dream. Draco was too terrified to go back to sleep, fearing he might have the rape dream all over again.

He scrunched up under his deep green duvet, and the repetitious parade of disturbing thoughts flooded his mind. Would his father really allow such a ghastly and dehumanizing business to happen to his little boy Draco, his only son, to his little 'Goldie'? Would his mother stand by and allow such a vicious thing to happen to her boy, her precious boy? Or had his parents largely disconnected themselves from the slave they had reared for the master's purposes. Draco thought about it often, but he already knew the answer. If he didn't already know the answer, the terrifying nightmares would hold no claim to him in the first place.

Draco threw back the covers and leapt out of bed. He still shook slightly as he fumbled in his wardrobe for his cloak and his Starshotz. He pulled the heavy wool cloak tightly and jumped up onto the window bench seat. He lifted the brass latches on the casements and pushed one side open against the wind. Rain whipped into his face, and his fingers immediately felt as numb with cold as they had in his nightmare. The freezing wind felt like knives against his bare legs. He climbed out onto the narrow ledge, and pulled the window closed behind him. Fighting to get his broomstick in place, he kicked off into the black night sky and into the storm.

The winds from the north blew directly at Draco as he headed for the far tower. The rains were thick and the wind so brisk that Draco had to fly his Starshotz at near maximum speed to keep from being blown off track. He was violently trembling as he finally found himself streaked towards the Gryffindor tower. Draco pulled out his wand as he rapidly approached the window. He shouted.

"Alofenestra!"

The window opened and Draco hit the opening so fast that he staggered as he touched down, balancing himself on bare feet, grabbing for the casement frame. Then wind blew so strongly behind him that it almost blew him off the windowsill. Draco stumbled, half falling to the floor. He pulled the window shut behind him. He was still shivered violently, his cloak soaked. He looked around nervously, all was still, quiet. He sprinted lightly over to the nearest four-poster. Like all the other beds, the curtains were drawn. Whispering 'luminos' he lit his wand and quietly searched the foot trunks until he found the one marked H.G.. Draco pushed his broomstick under the bed and silent as a shadow he slid between the heavy brocaded curtains of Hermione's four-poster. "Petals?" He whispered. There was no answer. He moved quietly through the curtains, squatting by the motionless figure under the covers. "Petals?"

Sighing, Draco fumbled, pulling out his wand from a cloak pocket. Pointing his wand upwards, he murmured, 'Silentium cubis,' creating the silver light of a silencing charm that shimmered momentarily around Hermione's four-poster. Now sound could not pass through the invisible barrier in either direction. Draco climbed onto the bed, squatting, his elbows on his knees. Slowly he leaned forward and shook the form. Nothing happened. He gingerly peeled back the covers. Something exploded out from under the covers, scratching Draco's face, and yowling.

"AARRRRGGGGHHH!" screamed Draco, whose throat was already hoarse from screaming after his nightmare. He kicked out a bare foot, striking Hermione's cat Crookshanks. The cat screamed and shot off the bed. Someone grabbed Draco from behind and when the boy turned to see who had grabbed him, and received a tooth jolting slap across his face.

"OOOOWWWWW!" Draco yelped.

Draco's attacker was Hermione, who was returning from a nocturnal trip to the girl's toilets. "Who...?"

"It's me," whinged Draco. "Why did you slap me?"

"Why did you kick poor Crookshanks?" Hermione was yelling, within the silence barrier perimeter, but she was stunned - to say the least - to find Draco sitting on her bed, frantically rubbing the side of his face where Hermione'd slapped the stuffings out of him.

"Who is that then?" Draco said triumphantly, and peeled the covers back the rest of the way to discover a pillow. Oh." He said in an almost disappointed voice. "Thought maybe you... made a new friend. Why did you stuff a pillow under there?"

"Crookshanks likes to sleep on the pillow under the covers. Poor kitty. You scared him half to death."

"Him? What about me? Look that beast scratched my cheek. I'm bleeding!" Draco pointed to a reddish scratch on his cheek. Hermione ignored his protests.

Hermione crawled up onto her bed, past Draco who yielded, crawling to the foot of the bed. There he squatted hidden under his wool cloak, dripping rainwater and giving Hermione the most piteous look he could muster.

Hermione wasted no time, already tears were streaming down her face. With great dismay she sputtered, "Godric Gryffindor's Garters, Draco.... You're soaking wet."

"Sure I'm soaking wet, what with you crying like that."

"You annoying Slytherin boy. Why would you go outside on a night like tonight?" Hermione was in full fuss mode. She rubbed her eyes with a sleeve. "Did you go to the hideaway across the field first? Take that sopping wet cloak off. Why didn't you put a warming spell on your cloak? A rain shedding spell?"

"I didn't think."

"I should say that is obvious. But how did you get into Gryffindor Commons?" Hermione asked curiously between snivels. "Who gave you the Gryffindor password? Perhaps Neville?"

"Beg Neville for a password? What for? I just flew in your damned window."

"How did you know which window was mine?"

"Easy. Looked for the Gryffindor tower window that used to have Lavender Brown standing naked in it."

"I already told you, Lavender was not... Oh! You evil Slytherin,"

Draco was shivering so badly that Hermione's bed looked as if there was an earthquake in progress. Hermione slipped out of her robe and under her covers.

"Are you pleased to see me at all Petals?"

"Pleased to have a spoiled evil Slytherin brat show up in my bed, scare my cat half out of his wits, and risk losing my Prefect standing for me? Yes, I'm just thrilled to pieces to have you here." The last part was actually the truth.

"So... then... do you want me to leave?" Draco shook involuntarily which made him look all the more like a half drowned cat, his pale fringe dangling wet over his eyes. "I was almost killed getting here," he purposefully batted his whitish lashes, just to improve his chances of getting on Hermione's sympathetic side.

"What do you want Draco?"

Draco said nothing. He just sat staring forlornly at Hermione, shivering. Hermione sighed, pulled a handkerchief out from under her pillow and blew her nose. "Thank you for saving me from the Marsh Soupeel yesterday."

"S'nothing."

"Oh, all right," Hermione said finally. She flipped back the bed covers.

Draco shot under the covers. "I bet if your Potty or Rags had to come in here, they'd have spent three weeks planning an assault digging up from the dungeons." Draco scooted further under the covers. He made sure the duvet and sheets covered him to the waist. Only then did he pull his cloak off over his head, flinging it to the foot of the bed where it landed on top of Crookshanks who had only just come back onto the bed. The cat screeched again and leapt off the bed.

Draco!" Hermione fussed, but not about Crookshanks. The girl stared disbelievingly at Draco, who, as far as she could tell seemed to be bare, at least from the waist up. She stretched her arm under the cover and finding Draco's bare bum, pinched him for all she was worth.

"OOOWWWWW! Don't do that...please, don't do that again." Draco squealed, his voice sounding unaccountably frightened. "Why did you pinch me?" he whinged.

"Because you are insane! " Hermione scolded. "You flew all the way here to Gryffindor tower like that? Naked with only a stupid cloak to keep you from freezing to death? Your feet are like blocks of ice!"

Hermione shot Draco an annoyed look, just to show she was not falling for his foolishness. She pulled her wand from under her pillow. "Sicco-caleo!" she called out and flicked her wand at him.

Draco's cloak made a loud sucking noise and was instantly bone dry. Draco became aware of warmth spreading through him, and he sighed happily and ceased shivering. "Thanks. How the hell do you learn all these damned spells like that Petals? You're like a bloody lexicon of spells. It's very off putting you know."

Hermione said nothing more. She faced Draco, who was only two feet away. Draco sat nervously scratching his rear, feeling like an intruder. An intruder about to be ousted from his only haven. And the Hermione and opened her arms towards him. Neither of the two could really believe their senses. For all her scolding, Hermione couldn't believe that Draco had answered her wildest dreams by seeking her out after their tiff in the Forbidden Forest. Draco couldn't believe he was in Hermione 's bed and the girl was opening up her arms to him. He'd convinced himself that comfort was gone from his life forever.

Draco threw himself at Hermione, and they hugged so tightly that the two could scarcely draw breath. Draco thrilled to the feel of Hermione so close to his heart again.

"This is rather romantic, don't you think?" Draco wheedled.

"Oh shut up my evil, evil Slytherin boy."

Draco shifted himself a few inches away from Hermione, he was uncertain of Hermione's mood and his cheek was still stinging from her slap.

"Can you keep a secret?" Draco asked.

Hermione didn't respond. She stared at Draco unblinking for what seemed a long, long time.

"No need for me to make any promises to you. Draco I've already figured out your 'problem'." Hermione said at last.

"Oh, really?" said Draco with great curiosity. "Fine. Let's hear it." Draco nodded gravely

"You are a Malfoy, heir to a powerful wizarding family line. I take it that you must marry the witch of your family's choice. And," Hermione added dramatically. "You are expected to be a virgin when you marry."

Draco opened his eyes wide. "I'm shocked, my sweet, you are so intelligent. Which is why it's so puzzling to me that you are so totally, absolutely, hopelessly clueless. Now, tell me, will you keep my secret?"

Hermione sat silent. Keeping a secret of Draco Malfoy was enough to give anyone pause.

"Ah ha! The bloody shoe is on the other foot now isn't it my girl? You have to make a promise to me." Draco pitched his voice to imitate Hermione in scold mode. "Say it! Say it!" He dropped his pitch to normal. "Now, go on, say it - 'I promise to keep your secrets Draco Malfoy.'"

"I, Hermione Granger, promise to keep the your secrets Draco Malfoy, so help me Salazar Slytherin." Adding 'so help me Salazar Slytherin' to her statement was the wizarding equivalent of crossing one's fingers behind the back while making a promise.

"So. I taught my little Gryffindor too well, then?" Draco sighed. His face took on a look that was unusual for him - shyness.

"Can I lie closer to you Petals? I'll behave. More or less."

"You have to ask?"

Draco inched across to Hermione and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. Gryffindors, unlike Slytherin, wore nightclothes for which Draco was grateful. Quietly, and gently Draco pushed Hermione back on her pillow and made himself comfortable, snuggling against Hermione. He pressed his ear against her flannel and lace nightgown covered heart. He wanted to listen to Hermione's heartbeat as she heard his secret. Draco trembled, which caused Hermione to made a soft noise like a gasp and drape her arms over him. She smoothed and patted the duvet around the boy. Hermione seemed to realize that Draco's shivering had nothing to do with cold. Draco shivered from tension and fear.

Hermione's heartbeat begin to race and to Draco it sounded like a bird trying to escape from a cloth sack. He knew that Hermione was a little frightened about what she was going to hear.

Draco began, "I can't remember when I didn't know about my family obligations. I was not just born, I was planned. The Dark Lord was at the height of his power."

"Draco..." I, I don't know if I can keep secrets that involve the Dark Lord."

"Shush. Just listen." At long last the secret Draco had kept from when he was too young to understand what 'secret' meant, was going to be shared. He suddenly felt there was nothing to be lost, even if Hermione shouted his secret from the tallest Hogwarts tower. He knew Hermione would never willingly betray his trust.

Draco began again. "The Dark Lord - was at the height of his power. As a sign of my father's allegiance to Dark Lord, my parents agreed to have a baby for the use of the Dark Lord's purposes."

Hermione was so stunned that her muscles jerked. Draco had expected as much. He continued telling his 'history'.

"My parents conceived me so that I was born on Halloween, when the ancient and dark magics are at their zenith. I was born in the first minutes of Halloween early in the morning of October 31, 1981."

Hermione gasped, and Draco could actually hear the girl's heart skip a beat as the significance of the date hit her.

Merlin's breath, the girl's mind works fast; like a steel trap.

Hermione didn't know what that date had to do with... everything, but she knew of the date's horrors. Draco snuggled his ear tighter to Hermione's nightgown, so comforting against his bare skin. He was fine, as long as he blotted out from his mind what lay beneath the soft flannel.

Draco had to struggle to control and conceal the emotion in his voice. "...An hour or so after I was born, of their own free will my parents gave me, gifted me... to the Dark Lord for his purposes. My parents gave me birth, but I don't 'belong' to them really. I'm only a Malfoy ward. I belong to Voldemort - like a house-elf."

"What? Belong? Draco, what did you say?"

"Shush." Draco listened to Hermione's heart thumping rapidly. Draco took a deep breath. He had now revealed enough information to Hermione that if his father found out, Draco's life would not be worth a wooden Knut. The two lay quiet for several minutes before Draco began speaking again.

"The Dark Lord took me, and performed a ceremony - himself and 13 Death Eaters, including my father, 'investing' me with ancient dark magic - the very darkest of the ancient magical powers. I'll explain it the way my mother used to tell me at bedtime.

Hermione felt her heart grow cold within her breast. How it would feel to be tucked in bed at night by your 'parents', knowing they had given you away like a new puppy or kitten? Did Draco understand that concept when he was a child? Perhaps his parents convinced him to think it was some sort of an honor to be given away at birth?

Draco continued. "I was born an empty vessel, a jar, a box. The Dark Lord and his 13 most loyal followers exposed me to a small amount of highly potent dark magical energy. As I grow, the magic in me increases, doubling, then tripling, and on and on. Some day the Dark Lord will require what I have stored within me, and he will summon me. The Dark Lord and his thirteen most loyal Death Eaters will perform the 'releasing' ceremony. The Dark Lord will claim for his exclusive use, the powers stored within me."

The words Draco spoke were simple and he used simple words. The power of the words Draco spoke were complex, and evoked powerful imagery to both the Draco and Hermione. So powerful that he frequently stopped speaking as frightening images washed through both of their minds, like a wash of black ink over a formerly snow white parchment.

Draco said, "The day that the Dark Lord claims the swollen powers that fermented and grew within me, is the day the Dark Lord shall become more power; more powerful than any wizard or witch, living or dead can possibly imagine.

Tears of fear streamed down Hermione's face. She was now breathing in gasps. It occurred to her that a font of gravely dark magic was taking comfort resting on her soft cloth covered breast. It was not Draco's fault, but the boy was a reservoir of concentrated, congealed ancient magic. Words such as necromancy, black magic, foul and evil flowed through Hermione's mind. She began to stroke Draco's head.

"Hermione," Draco said using her actual name for the first time Hermione could remember since the night they stood on the shore of the Hogwarts lake. "These aren't my words. Honest. I'm only repeating what they taught me. What they forced me to learn. Really, I," he sounded ten years younger when he pleaded so.

"It's all right Dray, I understand." Hermione stroked his cheek.

The boy gratefully shut his eyes and continued speaking. "With the magics 'invested' in me and absorbed by the Dark Lord, he will assume his rightful place of power over the wizarding world. The Dark Lord will purify the world, removing the weak, the base-born, the unworthy and the... Hermione these aren't my words, I swear."

"Yes dear, I understand. They forced you to memorize their dogma," she kissed Draco's brow gently and with compassion.

"Yes. The Dark Lord will purify the world, removing the weak, the base-born, the unworthy and the... mudbloods and the muggles. The Dark Lord will then rule all - as he was meant to."

The boy's words were the most terrifying Hermione had ever heard. As Draco spoke she could imagine Narcissus Malfoy telling the horrifying story to her tiny son. No, telling the story to her 'ward', the Dark Lord's slave. Narcissus encouraging and coaxing her young towheaded son to learn a story that could have meant nothing more to him than a fanciful fairy tale.

Finally Hermione began to speak. "Draco, after the ceremony, after the dark magic is removed from you, what will happen to you then?"

"After the ceremony I will be released from any obligations. I will be free."

"How would it be if you just release the magic then? Just release the power. Drain yourself of the power, now?"

Hermione knew her solution was too easy, too ridiculously easy to be possible.

Draco gave a small laugh, "More tempting than you can ever imagine Petals. But I haven't told you the catch yet. Always a catch. If I 'release the power', without the express direction of my parents and Dark Lord, I'll die. Instantaneously. Boom! I'll be dead, and anyone who has contact with me. See? So... Miss Know-It-All, here is the big question. Can you guess by what means is the magic will be released from me?"

"No," Hermione shook her head frantically. "No, Draco."

Draco understood perfectly well that Hermione was not saying 'No, I don't understand how the power will be released'. The girl was actually saying, 'No, you can't mean that?"

"Yes. Hermione. As I lose my virginity, as I experience that "'stupefyingly-stupendously-within-an-inch-of-my-life-orgasmically-satisfied' feeling, the magic will be released to the Dark Lord. I mean, I'm not going to screw him or anything so dramatic, but as I 'do it' the powers will leave me and be absorbed into the Dark Lord. He only had to be nearby. I like to imagine that they have a nice vestal virgin lined up for me to... release the powers with." Draco wondered why he never ever dreamt about that. "So Petals, now you understand most of my little 'problem', the source of my 'delicate condition'.

There are two spells guarding that I remain virgin and signifying that the magic within me is still intact. Check this out Petals." Draco spoke as though preparing to show off a card trick, he leaned his head back. He sucked in some air and then blew out, Bluish-green flames shot out of his nostrils, and then his mouth. The flames were accompanied by a loud cracks that sounded like snapped twigs. "The flames are a warning that the death curse is on me as a warning to me if I attempt to prematurely lose my virginity. The crackling noise spell means the powers vested in me are intact. Two different spells, one bitchin' way to light the fireplace"

Hermione gasped. "The flames! Dray, I thought the flames..."

"Yes, you thought I was sucking on Pepper Imps, didn't you? I hated when they invented those stupid sweets. Took all the fun out of my best party trick."

"Those are unusual spells aren't they?"

"Oh yes. Must have set my crib on fire once or twice a week. Amazing I survived at all really. Ok, guess how I got my name, Draco, 'the dragon'?"

Hermione looked down on Draco. "Well, DUH."

"Ok, you guessed already. Anyway, now there, Hermione. Now don't you feel just a little silly thinking I didn't want to shag you because I was being a twat? Understand now why I blew a gut when you made that incredible lunge to nab my huge.... enormous... absolutely staggeringly generously proportioned wee-wee?" Draco chuckled wryly.

"That isn't funny Draco." Hermione pushed Draco away and sat up against her pillow. "Not one jot amusing. You do realize there is more than one way for a boy to...lose his... lose his virginity. I don't suppose you ever saw the muggle cinema called Deliverance?"

Draco shook his head. "No. But when I visited my Uncle Virgil in Paris he took me to see two muggle cinema pictures. The only muggle cinema I've ever seen. Great stuff!" Draco shook his head. "Let's see... we saw 'Last Tango in Paris' and what was the other.... 'Caligula'? What twisted creatures muggles are. Anyway Petals, I know about how boys can lose their virginity. The thought only occurs to me about fifty times a day. So you understand now what I'm up against? Wouldn't that make you cranky?"

Hermione nodded but she looked about ready to break into a second round of tears.

Draco said, "Do you know, when I was, oh, maybe around 8 years old I was kind of precocious? So, one day my father rescued me before I killed myself and 'Twinkie'. Twink was one of our house-elves. Really cute she was, about my size, big golden eyes. Really fancied her. I wrapped us each up in cling film. Father caught us before I had a chance to do anything. Father saved my life because if I had done 'it', it would have killed me and Twink. The flame spell doesn't discriminate between types of touching, you know? Anyway, father found us." Draco's eyes looked thoughtful as he savored his memory of the little house-elf. "Oh well. Father almost killed me. Beat me with his serpent headed silver walking stick."

"You tried to...? With a HOUSE-ELF?" Hermione was appalled.

Draco fussed, "I lie here telling you I can blow up if I'm touched while I'm having it off and that when I was an adorable and inquisitive little tyke my father almost beat me to death, and your outburst of concern is for a flippin' house-elf? Petals, you really need to sort out your priorities."

"Sorry," said Hermione. "Draco, if the Dark Lord owns you, then...you are a slave, aren't you?"

Draco did not answer Hermione. There was pain beyond measure whenever Draco gave thought to that mind-numbing morsel of information.

Hermione put to Draco another question, just as bluntly. "So then your parents are loyal Death Eaters?"

"No, only Father. Mother doesn't carry the Death Mark - Father says that mother is too evil for the Dark Lord to mess with. Family joke." Draco snuggled back against Hermione's flannel draped breasts.

"Draco. How do you stand it all?"

Draco could not respond. For the first time in his life, someone really understood what he'd had to put up with all his life. The thought was not as comforting as he had expected. It was rather like being able to share the fact that someone dropped an anvil on your foot - it was nice to share the fact, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain.

"You know what really makes me angry Petals? I mean, you would think the blasted Dark Lord, or Death-Eaters who set up the spells could have at least allowed me a bit of 'light' entertainment. The occasional prospect of a some version of personal... contact?"

Draco winked at Hermione who turned crimson. The thought had only crossed her mind about 10 times during the evening.

"I suppose I was denied me that little pleasure solely so I wouldn't get to the point no return, know what I mean? See? That's why I couldn't let you get personal with the wedding tackle at all. Too risky. Total bastards. You'd have thought they'd have left me that much for me to enjoy.

So here I sit, naked as the day I was born, in bed with the witch of my dreams. Can I make wild, hot faun love to her until the Hippogryphs come home? No. Nothing like having Dark Magic hanging over your head to ruin a hot date. Petals, my life so sucks. And I'm a selfish git for having dragged you into it. I'm so sorry."

"The ability to snog to your full capacities is the least of your problems Draco."

"So, obviously you've never been a teenage wizard, huh?"

"What will happen if the Dark Lord claims the powers you hold?"

"If? You mean 'when.'" Draco said with helpless resignation.

"No, if. No need to be sorry Cocoa. Your problems are mine."

"And your problems are mine Petals. So what problems would that be then? What socks do you wear tomorrow? Will you feed your stupid cat the ocean fish or the liver kibble tomorrow for its breakfast? Somehow that doesn't quite seem like a fair exchange, does it?"

Draco, hugged Hermione closer, and nuzzled his head on her bosom again. Draco was relaxed, and he allowed nasty boy thoughts to blot out the ugliness and horror that controlled his life and that he had just explained to Hermione.

Draco's stoked the lace and flannel nightclothes over Hermione's breasts. His hand cupped the mound of softness nestled by his fingers. He unbuttoned a shimmering pearl button on Hermione's gown and stretched out his tongue towards a rosy nipple.

Before his tongue could reach its goal, Draco gasped and flung himself facing away from Hermione, rolling to the other side of the bed.

"I, I'm sorry Petals, my thoughts wandered for a bit. I have developed a... a rather pressing problem... You know. I, I can't be near you right now. If I could Petals, I'd hold you right this minute, I would lick... I would lick away those stupid and endless tears of yours."

"I'm not crying," Hermione lied.

"Petals, you sweet, chestnut-haired Gryffindor liar."

The two lay quietly apart for several minutes, neither daring to move or shift. Afraid the other would misunderstand. Finally, Hermione spoke. "Draco?"

"Yes Petals?"

"May I stroke your hair Draco?"

Draco fought against the kindness offered to him. He wanted comfort so desperately only it made him feel he was a pitiful creature and therefore unworthy of anyone's love, least of all Hermione's.

In a somewhat surly voice he muttered, "I suppose you could. I mean, if you'd enjoy doing so."

"Draco I'm on your side, honestly. You know you're still my Slytherin prince."

"Petals... that is so... totally sickening, I'm going to have to throw up." Of course Draco was covering because the tightness in his throat was back and the ache behind his eyes pounded.

Hermione gingerly reached over and stroked Draco's silky hair as though he was a large pale cat on her pillow. She massaged her hero's neck and stroked his upper back.

"Thank you Petals." Draco whispered. "That's really nice."

It would be even nicer to fall asleep now. It would be heavenly.

But he would not. He was afraid he would wake up screaming, terrified. And he could not stand the thought of doing so in Hermione's bed.

"Pleasant dreams Draco."

As if.

The trees surrounding the meadow were the sort associated with paintings by the impressionist masters - formed of dots of blues, greens and mauves. The full moon glowed down from overhead filling every bit of the meadow with dots of ethereal light and misty spots of luminous moonlight.

Draco sat in the sedan chair, his heart pounding so rapidly it was painful. He budged nervously from one side of his bum to the other, shifting on the soft silk of the sedan's carved chair. He wasn't sure if there was going to be much more to this scenario. Maybe things would begin with some tea and cakes? He was rather hungry. Would they take the time to praise him first for having avoided the obvious pitfalls of staying virginal while he had such a hot girlfriend, or did they think the ceremony would be reward enough for him? No matter. He pulled at the black silk collar of his shirt and adjusted the long deep green velvet cloak with its diamond adornment and platinum clasps. He raised himself briefly from the silk cushion to adjust his tight black leather trousers. There was some discomfort as the stupid tailors hadn't made adjustment for his massive wee-wee and he was feeling constricted. And it was warm, beastly warm. It was autumn of course, but how could a young wizard stay cool when there were six astoundingly beautiful and naked goddesses carrying his sedan?

Seeing motion, Draco turned around to see a long line of black robed and hooded figures.

At first he mistook them for waiters. No, the figures were Death Easters marching to the center of the meadow. The silent figures climbed up stone steps onto an immense and wheel-like platform large enough for the twelve hooded ones to stand along its perimeter, spaced and facing the center of the stone stage.

Shivering ferociously with anticipation, Draco's teeth chattered with nerves as he stared at the stage - a green quavering light flashed up from the stage center. A black stone altar appeared out of the air - a massive serpent with red eyes coiled around the altar base. Draco stared at a black hooded figure which disapparated by the altar. The figure pulled back his hood and Draco looked on with a great deal annoyance. The figure was unmistakably that of Lord Voldemort, which meant Draco would not be able to flirt with his sedan carriers for much longer. The face of the Dark Lord was vile; serpentine with two blood red openings that looked like knife slits in an overstuffed green leather sofa - like the Slytherin Common chairs. Voldemort raised his arm; a gnarled claw-like hand stretched out from the sleeve and beckoned Draco. Draco muttered, "Yes, yes, I'll be along you great..."

Do I have to do this?" Draco looked around desperately for his parents. They wouldn't allow this to happen if he didn't feel like it. His parents knew he only wanted Hermione, not some git vestal virgin, no matter how perfect and alabaster her arse. "Mother?" Draco called in the still air. "Father?" Draco begged desperately. "Father!"

Another movement caught Draco's eyes and he noticed a thirteenth hooded figure approaching the base of the stairs at the stone stage. The figure pulled back its hood - Lucius Malfoy - Draco's father. Lucius raised his arm towards his son and joined the Dark Lord in beckoning Draco to come forward.

'Yeah, right. I'm coming. Ha, ha, ha, ha!'

The naked goddesses proceeded forward, bearing the sedan magically, floating above their silvery sleek shoulders, their enormous bosoms bouncing gently with each step. They ceased their forward motion at the base of the altar steps. Draco stood and stepped down from the sedan. With some annoyance, he held up his arms and said, "All right girls, strip me. Take your time. I bruise easily." The goddesses began to squeal and giggle, racing to assist Draco, quickly unbuttoning his black silk shirt, slowly unzipping Draco's tight leather trousers. One unfortunate goddess fainted at the sight of his magnificence as the trousers revealed the prize.

"Help her up one of you," Draco commanded.

'Poor girl. I'm just too much for them.'

His clothing gone, Draco rubbed his palms down his sides and on his thighs. His skin felt dry. He could barely stand the non-silky feel of his skin. The goddesses, who were now joined by numerous other nubile young women, blocked his view of the altar steps. The goddesses stepped away from the middle leaving a clear path to the altar steps save for the presence of Lavender Brown, naked, carrying an elegantly carved ivory amphora. She blew a low appreciative whistle as she stepped towards Draco, and knelt at his feet. "They told me how magnificent... but how could I have believed them? Wow. Like just wow."

"Get on with it Lavender. And jiggle those pups a bit while you do. I like that."

Lavender poured perfumed lotion from the ivory decanter and smoothed it on Draco's dry skin. When she was done with the front, Draco turned and enjoyed the feel of Lavender's hands rubbing the lotion on the back of his legs, his back and bum. He turned and patted Lavender on her head. "Good girl. Amazing restraint."

Lavender refused to leave his feet and had to be dragged away in disgrace by the goddesses. The unfortunate girl called out, "No! I must be the sacrifice! Not that old cow they choose, ME! ONLY ME!"

Draco's father still standing at the base of the steps, grasped Draco gently by his hand and led the smirking boy up the stone steps towards the altar.

"You will do what you are told boy. What you are told," Draco's father said in a firm voice. "You lucky little shite."

Draco knew he was going to make his father proud. He wanted to brag, to show off, but the smirking words were lodged in his throat, like a sodding big sticky chunk of biscuit. They were going to do it. They were going to do it no matter what.

Lucius held back on Draco who was inclined to run the last six feet, his satin trainer clad feet bouncing gently on the granite, leaving rose petals in his wake. Lucius shoved Draco playfully toward Lord Voldemort. Draco fell against the robes of the Dark Lord. The icy cold claw-like hands of the Dark Lord grasped Draco and spun the boy around to face the altar. "Go on you lucky little shite. Go on," the gravely voice of the Dark Lord chuckled.

In pure joy, Draco's grey eyes shot back and forth over the hooded figures in his field of view, looking for additional praise for his magnificence, from someone - anyone. Then he saw his father, take a spot with the other Death Eaters to make up the complimentary sign of thirteen - the full number of Death Eaters necessary for the ceremony. Lucius Malfoy looked somewhat worried, but he calmly nodded at Draco and gave the boy the 'thumbs up'. Things were progressing well. Lucius called out - proudly - 'Good boy Draco. You go on with your bad self!'

Draco looked at the altar. Hermione disapparated, sprawled on the altar. Her beautiful bushy hair was sprinkled with orange blossoms and the delicate tantalizingly fragrance wafted over to Draco. He felt intoxicated by the temptingly scent of orange blossoms and tuna. Hermione's limbs were spread, but piles of petals, white and pink flower petals, enticingly hid all the 'fun bits'.

"Draco," called Hermione with great excitement. "Now we can do it! Get OVER here this very second before they change their minds! We must hurry! Millicent Bulstrode is waiting as reserve player in the wings. HURRY!"

Draco gasped at the site of Hermione. A stream of hot fiery liquid streamed down Draco's bare legs - he realized with dread that one of the goddesses behind him had spilled a cup of hot white cocoa 'all stirred up' on his bare legs. The chocolaty hot liquid felt like naked fingers pulsing down his bare white legs. Stupid goddesses!

Draco began to walk forward. But he worried, could he make it the last few steps unhindered by his absolutely staggeringly, generously proportioned...

Hermione sat on her knees by Draco watching him gently snoring. Drool pooled at the corner of his pink mouth. She thought he looked a bit like Crookshanks with a blonde fringe. She still couldn't believe the boy was actually in her four-poster. Crookshanks pressed up against Hermione's side, purring and also drooling.

"Oh Crookshanks, doesn't he look like an angel?" she whispered. "Draco, wake up, Get up! Here's your cloak, come on, get up! You can fly out now you lazy thing. My roommates are all in the toilets."

"Messy thing that," Draco muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes. "Ask Moaning Myrtle."

"Draco, you evil boy. What are you doing there under MY covers?"

Draco fumbled under the duvet. "Just checking crotch. Spilled sweet, hot, white cocoa on me. Sticky."

"Sticky? Oh Draco!" Hermione was appalled.

"No, no, it was white cocoa. A goddess. Never mind," He yawned widely, his eyes remaining unopened, reluctant to greet a new day after such a heavenly dream. "Say why don't you just leave me alone for a few minutes - two ought to do it. And don't touch me unless you've prepared a requiem mass for us."

"Oh no, don't you DARE you evil, horny Slytherin boy! Stop that!" Hermione almost reached out to hit him, but pulled back at the last second, realizing the danger. She fumed. "Boys!"

Several suspicious and strangely exciting noises later, a beatific and randy smile spread across Draco's face and his pale lashes began to flutter lazily open like a butterfly at dawn. He looked at Hermione and sighed. "I LOVE you Petals. You are my dream angel. Waking up in your bed with you. I have a new turn on... haven't had a new one in ages. That's uh... 276?"

"That's splendid dear, now get the hell out of here before Lavender gets back from her shower naked and all your dreams come true."