Shell of Darkness Broken

Shell of Darkness Broken

Chapter Two

It was approaching evening time. Hermione knew very well that if Draco had slipped into her locked home the previous night, he would try again. As she changed into skintight black tank top with low rising black silk pajamas, she noticed how thin she had gotten. Her stomach was perfectly flat, and her midriff was showing a good two inches due to the low rise pajamas.

On impluse, she brought her pillow to the living room couch in front of he fireplace with her writer's notebook. She tried to concentrate on the school curriculum book she was currently writing on Transfiguration, but felt drowsy.

Sighing, she tossed her notes aside and went to the kitchen for a sandwich.

A figure cloaked in black Apparated in her front hall. Swiftly he let his hood down and spied the kitchen light on. She's in there. Carefully he made his way into the room, praying she couldn't hear him.

Her back was to him as she stood at the counter, making herself a sandwich. He smirked at what she was wearing; Typical Hermione, always modest during the day, doesn't give a shit at night. She had also grown incredibly thin since he had left her. He mentally slapped himself. I will not fall in love with her again, he thought firmly. Hermione had made him feel so weak against the world.

His smirk dominating his facial features again, he stole up behind her. She still did not notice.

Hermione spread peanut butter over the toasted bread, feeling more awake than before. She tried to reassure herself that Lavender's prediction was codswallop. She didn't know what to think about the possibility of Draco coming. All I know is, if I look into his eyes one more time, they'll surely bring back my former feeings for him.

Unable to take it anymore, Hermione buried her face in her hands and cried. Cried for all of the magical moments she could only have with Draco. Cried for how he hurt her, betrayed her, destroyed her parents. Cried for how she still loved him, despite how he had ruined her life.

And then...

"Why do you cry, Hermione?" his voice hissed in her ear. Before she could react, his hands had slid around her thin waist and held her tightly.

Gasping, Hermione whirled around and caught sight of his silver blond hair before fainting in his arms.

***

Draco carried her to the couch where her pillow was. Gently easing her into a comfortable position, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her, not sure of what to do. Do I wake her up and explain, or do I leave? he asked himself.

"Malfoys never need to have the obligation to explain their actions," Lucius had always told him. "What you do is your business, and only your own." Draco did not feel like carrying out this command, not now, not when she was involved.

He ran his eyes over her body, trying to remember her touch, her taste, her heat. Draco licked his dry lips and ignored the increasing bump in his pants. Good thing this cloak is covering it.

There was no doubt about it; Hermione Granger was still the same Hermione Granger he had known in school. She was still the exquisite flower who had flourished in the dark world around her. Funny, considering how beautiful she still is, she isn't married. Draco didn't see an engagement ring on her finger as he took her left hand to check. Her hand was warm and dry, and he held it for a minute more, savoring her touch.

Frustrated of how uncomfortably warm he was getting from looking at her, Draco got up from the chair and walked around the room, his eyes resting on the photographs she had on the walls and on the mantel. Mostly photos of her with Potter and the Weasel, Draco noted. Weasley was now one of the governors, much to his disgust. And Potter was enjoying the publicity from the tabloids due to his position on the England Quidditch team.

Draco stopped at the next photograph, and stared. It was of him.

He would have missed it if he had not been looking carefully; it was partially hidden behind a picture of the trio in their graduation robes. Draco in the photo raised his eyebrows, then smirked. Draco turned a cold eye towards how he was back then, so inexperienced with the cruelty of his world, so unprepared.

But he still looked the same. At 6'2", with a finely toned body and ice-grey eyes, Draco would have given Harry Potter a run for his money if he had not been a Death Eater. Draco smirked once again and moved on to examine the other photographs.

Finally, he sat down beside Hermione again and sighed. Not tonight. He leaned closer to her, desperately wanting her desire, her passion, her fire. He was only capable of feeling vulnerable to her, and she knew it. He ran his lips over her neck, and went to her lips. Kissing her tenderly but briefly, he knew that this was all he could do tonight.

He pulled back, the fire of desire dancing in his pale grey eyes. Quickly he pulled his hood over his head, muttered 'Ennervate' to Hermione, then turned his wand upon himself and Disapparated.

When Hermione woke up in confusion, Draco was nowhere to be found.