Snowflakes in the Wind

It had started out simple enough, in third year with subtle remarks in the hallways as she passed him. The classic cat calls signaling a boy's ascent into manhood through puberty. The clue that he would now begin to think with his cock instead of his brain. She never paid any real attention to it, just another way for him to rattle her nerves. She never thought it would go any further, never thought he actually wanted to do the acts he subtly mentioned to her many a time.

It would be an understatement to say she was surprised that day in winter. She was in the owlery, attaching a letter for her parents to one of the school owls. And after the owl took off, she stood at the window admiring the beautiful scene that was Hogwarts covered in a fresh blanket of snow. It was then that she felt the hands on the sleeves of her coat, slowly stroking up and down, and then the tingle as the lips of the stranger behind her faintly grazed her neck. She'd spun around; her eyes immediately landing on the platinum blonde hair of her mysterious suitor and she instantly knew it was him. She looked into his eyes, her face twisted and asking why without her saying a word. But his eyes were soft, not completely lustful but desiring and he leaned in to kiss her, she kissed him back.

Of course all the expected questions ran through her head, the different reasoning she could use to explain his odd interest in her. He was claiming his mudblood prize, proving he was superior by courting her. He was gaining reputation, saying he was able to seduce even innocent third year Granger. He was hurting Harry and Ron in the worst way, by claiming their best friend. But none of those reasons stopped her. His kisses were warm and gentle not as hungry as she'd expected them to be. He was taking his time with her, exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue. She assumed they must have been kissing for a long time, because his hands had begun to roam over her body, and he'd started unbuttoning her coat.

It happened at a quicker rate after that, he still moved gently but it seemed to take a shorter time than she'd expected. Soon, both their coats and scarves were off, as were the sweaters both of them had worn. He'd backed her into the wall, away from the window where no one could see. He'd picked her up and she'd wrapped her legs around his, the wall holding her up. He broke away from her for a moment and looked her in the eyes as he removed his t-shirt so that his bare chest was shone. It hadn't been anything spectacular, not as chiseled as it would later be, but he'd only been thirteen at the time she reminded herself. He started to unbutton her oxford shirt. She'd known what was coming; she'd known what would happen after he removed that article of clothing from her body. He asked her with his eyes and when she didn't stop him, he knew it was the same as saying yes. The words were not needed.

He undressed her and then himself. He kissed the many parts of her body and slowly massaged them before he positioned himself on top of her and began to lower his body onto hers. He was slow, edging into her carefully until he met the barrier, the distinct proof of her innocence. He'd looked up at her and she'd nodded her head. Draco Malfoy would forever have the satisfaction of being the boy to deflower Hermione Granger. It had hurt at first, but he took his time, stroking slowly and kissing her so that in a matter of minutes, all she felt was the pleasure.

Not a word was spoken between the two of them the entire time. When it was over, not a kiss was shared. They dressed and gathered their things not sharing a glance at one another. She'd begun to walk out the door when he grabbed her wrist and brought her two him. "Don't forget about me," he whispered into her ear, and then took off.

They met again over they're years at Hogwarts. In broom cupboards during free periods, in the trophy room and empty classrooms late at night. In the forbidden forest while Harry and Ron were at quidditch practice and after it was discovered, the room of requirement. It wasn't a fairytale, wasn't the classic love story in movies and books. They never talked with each other, never revealed any startling personal truths to the other, he didn't ask her to the Yule ball in fourth year. And the love could not exist because it would be forbidden, and they both knew love was not worth so much trouble. Yet it wasn't pure instinctual lust. They shared a connection, one that can't be explained in words, or understood by anyone other than them.

It was a secret that no one noticed they shared. No one ever caught the stray looks or notes secretly passed in the hallways. And even if anyone did, it was too preposterous for him or her to expose, a rumor no one would believe. The archenemies that fought constantly everyday shagging in secret, bullocks. But it as the truth and they hid it well.

But everything had begun to change in sixth year. Harry was on his trail constantly. It got harder and harder for them to continue with their forbidden sessions. She'd seen every inch of his body from they were thirteen, so she knew Harry's claims were true. She'd seen the Dark Lord's mark etched into his pale skin. But she never paid it any attention. They were not Hermione and Draco when they were together, they weren't light and dark, or could and evil. They were just two people who craved the feel and taste of one another.

That's how they'd gotten there now she reveled as she sat at the edge of the bed fully clothed. She studied his face as he lay sleeping, his naked body tangled in the sheets, his arms flung out on the bed. Her eyes fell on the black mark on his arm that drastically contrasted his skin. She took his arm in her hand and traced her finger over it.

"It's how he marks us". She was surprised not by the powerful baritone slicing through the silence, but rather that he'd spoken at all. It was almost a rule they never did that. She turned her head to look at him. His blue eyes pierced through her as always. "I got it this summer. He wants me to do something, complete this dangerous task. I could die". She let go of his arm and stood up. "Wait," he called out as she began to walk away. She turned back to him, questioning him by her expression. "Stay with me, please, just for tonight?"

She thought about walking away but didn't. Instead she sat back on the bed beside him. She opened her arms; he laid his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. He started to cry and could not stop the tears from falling when he tried. She simply placed her chin on his head and stroked his back. He cried in her arms for the rest of the night.