Scattered on the Wind

"Scattered on the Wind"

By C.K. Blake

Whispers always at the edge,
Singing sweetly, but one more step,
Oh to jump into nothingness,
All for the chance of peaceful bliss.
The voices softly snigger,
A warning to build fear.

How the wind worries,
And the earth, she trembles.
The troubles, do they know,
And yet utter little hinderence?
To the sky mine eyes beseech,
Tears of pain, comfort me moon.

Sing softly of the garden,
Jasmines of the shadows bloom,
Hide mine soul from the blackened roses.
Quiet the voices lurking at the edges,
Hum so sweetly soft,
Sing to me a final lullaby.

--"Haunted" by C.K. Blake

The edge, it was always so close, especially at this time of night, midnight, the witching hour. The moon hung bright and full in the pitch dark sky, but his eyes were closed against it. He never wanted to look upon anything that she had loved, ever again. He swallowed thickly, his body shaking. He gritted his teeth and mentally scolded himself.

"A Malfoy never shows emotion. A Malfoy never loves, and a Malfoy would never allow himself to feel, especially for a filthy mudblood," he hissed at himself.

His delicate pale eyelids fluttered open, revealing silver storm clouds. He began to walk back toward the castle, but a familiar voice began to whisper, soft melodies, singing to him. It was her voice. Very few people knew that she could sing, but that was how they'd truly met for the first time. He'd heard her voice, and he'd been a moth to her flame. His knees buckled as he was brought back to the present and he found himself kneeling on the cool grassy ground. His back to the bright mocking moon as that voice whispered on the wind.

"Just let me ask of you one small thing, as we have shared so many tears with fervor of our dreams we planned a whole lifelong now are scattered in the wind..."

He covered his ears with his hands and screamed like a madman into the night, "Stop it! Never use her voice. Never use that power against me!"

--------- Three Months Earlier ---------

It was maddening how crowded the Gryffindor Common Room could be. There was simply no peace. She had finally had enough. She slammed her book closed, stood up, glared around the room, and shook her head.

Many of her fellow seventh year Gryffindors looked up at her, eyes wide in shock, wondering what was wrong with her. Finally a boy with messy black hair, burning green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, and a lightening bolt scar on his forehead spoke up.

"Hermione? Is something wrong?" he asked in concern.

She looked at him in contempt and then snapped, "Can't I have a bit of a tantrum without the entire common room seeming so shocked?! Honestly! This place is so loud that it is nearly impossible to get anything done. I've dealt with this for seven long years! I'm tired, I'm under appreciated, and beyond Viktor and Ron, I've never been on a date! Harry! How ruddy thick are you? Argh!"

With that she turned on her heal, and marched out of Gryffindor Tower, heedless of it being past curfew because she was a prefect. Harry watched the bushy haired girl leave and then turned bewildered eyes to the person next to him, Dean Thomas.

"Does that mean she likes me?" Harry asked with a nervous gulp.

Dean grinned and clapped the boy on the back as he laughingly answered, "Naw, mate. She's just a bit desperate. Girls get that way when they realize what they are missing out on with a good guy around. It's not you she's after. At least I wouldn't think so. You're her friend. She's too smart to make that get all complicated."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Good, because for a moment there I was worried that things were about to get awkward. Speaking of which, is Ron still up in the dorm sulking over me snogging Ginny? Because she practically manhandled me into that broom closet."

"You're on your own with the Weasley front, I'm afraid," Dean said and retreated across the room for a nice safe game of Exploding Snap, or however safe the game was when your oponent was one, Neville Longbottom.

---------

Hermione hurriedly passed through the corridors, not really paying much attention to her path, as she blindly went where her feet led her. And yet she felt as though she was being guided somewhere. Her ear perked up at the sound of the wind. She smiled as she pushed open a door and realized that she was in one of the gardens on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The moon was bright out tonight, and she could see everything clearly in the garden. She took in a deep breath and caught the scent of fresh jasmines, her favorite. She breathed the sweet scent in and out for a few moments, savoring the rich tease to her senses. She sighed and headed toward the back of the garden, where the jasmines were. She sat down on the stone bench by the lovely fragrant white blossoms of the jasmines.

She looked up at the moon, and felt a deep, almost forgotten, ache in her chest, and bit her bottom lip to suppress the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She blinked and the tears coursed from her eyes, down her cheeks. She let out a small breath of air and quickly brushed the tears away with her fingertips.

She shook her head. "I was foolish to think that I could actually join a muggle band. I am no singer, and I cannot abandon my friends at the beginning of a war for some foolish dream. How could I have even entertained the thought?"

She lost herself to the memories of the summer. She'd gone to a club with some muggle friends and had ended up going on stage. How they had managed to get her up there was a mystery, but there she had been, singing her heart out, and then she recalled the voice lessons, she requested of her parents. The hours she'd spent singing, when she wasn't reading. She remember how good it was to sing.

Soon her lips parted and her voice began to weave the lyrics of one of her favorite songs into the air, and the wind carried it back to the castle.

"It was a Monday, when my lover told me, 'Never pay the Reaper with love only.' What could I say to you, except 'I love you.' And, 'I'd give my life for yours.'"

---------

He was wandering the halls as his prefect duties required of him, when the strangest feeling came over him. He threw back his head, his silvery blond hair fluttering in a soft breeze, as his ears picked up on the strangest and most enchanting voice he'd ever heard. Someone was singing.

"...I know we are...We are the lucky ones..."

The voice hummed on the wind, beckoning him to find the source of such an enchanting and powerful voice. He soon found himself at the door of the garden. He raised a silvery blond eyebrow at the partially opened door and then slipped into the garden.

He looked around, and noticed how the garden appeared to glow in the moonlight. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, admiring the scent of the many fragrant flowers in the garden. The entire setting seemed composed of magic, the scent of jasmines hung most strongly in the air. He followed his ear and his nose to the end of the garden where the jasmines were and his mouth fell open in shock as he stared at a bushy haired girl sitting on the stone bench by the jasmines, her eyes closed, and her mouth forming the words of the song that filled the air.

He could hardly breathe as that voice passed from the girl's lips.

"We are the lucky ones, dear."

---------

The song ended. Hermione took in a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes and was surprised to note a shadow over her, she hadn't even felt the presence of another, hadn't even realized that she'd closed her eyes. Then she looked to see whom or what was making the shadow. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, as she stared mutely at the silvery eyed, silvery blond Slytherin that had made some of her time spent at Hogwarts a nightmare.

She then blinked when she noticed how he was looking at her. It was almost as if he were enchanted. Suddenly he blinked, shook himself, and the moment was lost. A sneer crawled upon his handsomely ethereal face, and he raised a mocking eyebrow at her.

"I never would have expected something so powerful from a mudblood. What sort of spell did you use to make your voice sound like that?" he asked arrogantly.

Hermione jumped to her feet, headed toward him, and stopped barely a foot away from him. She glared up at him and spoke harshly, "That was no spell. That was me."

Before she realized what was happening, his arms had slithered around her, and she was pulled hard against his chest. He held her tightly and she couldn't move against him as he had her arms effectively pinned at her sides. He looked down at her, a smirk alight on his face.

"Well, if you didn't use a spell, then whatever is the matter with me?" he challenged her.

She began to struggle and then licked her lips nervously. His silvery eyes watched as her tongue swept across her inviting mouth. He began to lean down and Hermione's eyes opened in terror as she snapped, "Malfoy! What are you do..."

She was unable to finish as he firmly assaulted her lips with his own, taking full advantage of how her mouth had been open due to her attempting to say something. His tongue slithered into her mouth, tasting her, honey and strawberries, and he swept her tongue into a battle that was more than just their wills.

She was close to fainting when he finally pulled back, and she was leaning against him fully, because her own legs had long betrayed her, and she knew that those same deceitful legs would be unable to hold her up.

Draco's eyes whipped open and then he looked upon the girl that he'd just kissed. He shook his head and blinked, but the girl was still Hermione Granger, the mudblood Gryffindor know-it-all. He quickly regained his senses after that realization and pushed her away roughly. She landed on her backside, with an indignant grunt, on the ground and he turned to head back to the castle.

She hurriedly got to her feet, hoping that her legs had regained their senses since the rest of her had not, and called out to him, "Wait, you can't just kiss me like that, push me away, and expect it all to be done with!"

He spun around and glared at her. "Yes I can! What in the bloody hell did you do to me? Filthy mudblood. It had to be a spell of some sort. I would never willingly touch you! Let alone put my mouth in such close proximity with yours!"

"But you did, Malfoy, and it was nothing to do with anything I did!"

"What about that voice? That was you!" he snarled.

She looked down shyly. "I didn't realize anyone could hear me."

"Well, someone did," he said coldly and then his eyes flashed. "And now you think I want you, because of some stupid kiss? Perhaps I should see it through then. After all a Malfoy always gets what he wants."

Hermione swallowed thickly. "What are you implying?" she asked and took a step back in nervousness as he drew nearer.

"Maybe I'm not the only one with wants, here," he spoke, his voice deeper, and his eyes growing darker.

The girl took another step back, fear treading up her spine and suddenly holding her in place, as he drew nearer, a predator aware that he had his prey captured.

He reached out a hand and delicately stroked her cheek. "You are such a unique beauty. It's a pity you have dirty blood. Still allowances can be made under certain circumstances."

Her eyes followed his every move as she said, "Take your hand away from me."

He chuckled and made a tsking sound. "Don't you like this game? You called me here, and now I make the rules."

"I did not call..." she began and was unable to finish as he pressed his index finger to her lips.

"But you did. It was a whisper on the wind, and I knew that someone had to be singing for me," his voice was deep, but still held its arrogance. He quickly grabbed her arm after noticing her looking around for a way to escape. "Tonight you are mine, and we are the lucky ones."

He then pulled her roughly against him and captured her protesting mouth in a kiss that demanded her submission. There was fire running hot in his veins and she had called upon him, so she would endure the consequences. He had every right to answer her call in any way he deemed fit. Served the mudblood right to get what she asked for.

Still she fought against him, struggling, wriggling, trying in vain to push against his chest so she could get away, but it was useless. He let her up for air and then raised an eyebrow, looking down into her wild and frightened eyes, his eyes sweeping across her swollen mouth.

"If you continue to struggle, then we shall continue the hard way. However, if you give in, then I promise to be as delicate as my need allows. You called me, whether you admit it or not, now finish the job, or allow me to take the lead as I see fit," he growled.

She tried to hold him back, but in the struggle he managed to wrestle her to the ground, and he had her pinned beneath him. He smirked at their position and ran his tongue cat-like across his lips. "Now this is interesting. You are finally getting the idea."

Hermione managed to free a hand and brought it sharply against his cheek. He quickly grabbed her wrist and had both her arms firmly held to the ground. He leaned down, his face bare inches from hers.

"Do that again, mudblood, and you will regret it. Now somehow you summoned me. I don't know how to get that through to you. I felt it, and I had to come to you. Now you have to satisfy me or I cannot leave you in peace," he spoke through clenched teeth, and Hermione gasped when she felt his arousal pressing against her. "Again I say this, either fight me or give in, but we will not part until I am satisfied."

"Get off of me you arrogant Slytherin git!"

"Fine, then a fight is fair play," he said with a wicked grin.

---------

His hands were warm as he managed to hold both her wrists down over her head with one hand and began to unbutton her blouse with the other. When her bra proved too bothersome for the frenzied movements of his one hand he muttered a binding charm on her hands, and she writhed beneath him as he continued with removing her clothes with much more success than before.

His hands cupped her flesh and she couldn't help the moan that built in her throat and escaped her parted lips as he leaned down and captured her mouth with his briefly, and then began to trail kisses down her chin and throat, across her collar bone, until his scorching moist lips found the peak of her left breast, taking it into his mouth and suckling it roughly. He nipped it and she whimpered. He looked up at her, delighting in having dominance over her.

He then pulled back and began to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his trousers. As she regained her senses she watched him in mute horror as he tossed her skirt up precariously, tore her panties, and lowered himself into her. Her back arched and she let out another whimper as he drove himself deep into her, taking her maidenhood in one brief moment.

She blinked, and closed her eyes, tears escaping the corners, as the realization of what was happening hit her. He had taken her, and there was no undoing it. Draco Malfoy had stolen a piece of her. She turned her head away and fought to muffle the moans that wanted to escape her throat. Eventually he spilled inside of her and pulled away. He muttered a cleaning charm on himself and casually refastened his trousers and buckled his belt. He looked down at her, and suddenly guilt filled him.

What had he done? He tugged her skirt back down and said, "Finite Incantatum." Once her arms were released she shakily tried to refasten her bra, but her fingers didn't seem to be working properly. He moved to help her, but she quickly shied away from him, trying to avoid touching him. He turned, grabbed her by the shoulders, and looked her in the eyes, noticing the shame and fear, and the wild look there. He quickly refastened her bra for her and then hurriedly button up her blouse.

Then he felt the need to fill the silence. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey in the morning about a potion. We don't want to worry ourselves over any consequences. I also expect you back here, tomorrow night, midnight. We should discuss this as the adults that we are. Do not tell anyone that this has happened. We will decide amongst ourselves tomorrow before any action is to be taken, and keep in mind, if you work against me you will lose, and you have your parents to consider."

She looked at him finally, meeting his eyes and spat in his face. Then she spoke, "You are a monster. You stole something precious from me tonight, and then you threaten my family if I tell anyone. Fine. I will see you here tomorrow, but never touch me again. You only think there is the one consequence of me trapping you into a marriage for the sake of honor. I assure you, I can do worse damage than that. This is the only time I will ever be weak before you."

He gingerly wiped the spit from his face and looked at the girl in contempt. "Tomorrow, midnight, and I abhor tardiness, mudblood."

Draco then began to walk away, through the garden door, and into the corridors of the school. Hermione was left in the garden. She felt like curling into herself and sinking deep into the earth where no one could possibly find her, but she was stronger than that. Slowly she got shakily to her feet and taking a deep breath, she ran an immaculate hand over her rumpled clothing, and hoped that nothing looked amiss as she left the garden and headed toward Gryffindor Tower, and ultimately a shower.

---------

He watched with cool silvery grey eyes as she eventually emerged from behind the door that led to the garden. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, as he recalled how soft and radiant her skin was in the moonlight. He wanted to touch her again, but most of all he wanted to hear her voice again. He felt something in his blood, whispering to him, drawing him to her.

How could he resist something that called to him from his very veins? How had she, of all people, gotten to him? His expression grew dark as he remembered the terror and hate in her soft brown eyes. She'd called him a monster. And maybe, just maybe, he really was.

---------

As soon as she reached the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress, she quickly muttered the password, and hurried inside. Still there was no escape as a set of arms wrapped around her waist and swung her around the room. It was meant to be a friendly gesture, but now she was afraid of touch. She screamed bloody murder, and was instantly put back on her feet. A wide-eyed redhead looked down at her and saw something in her eyes. He then took a step back, wondering what he had done wrong.

The few still present in the common room watched in stunned silence, wondering what Ron Weasley had done to make Hermione Granger react in such a way. Harry quickly joined the pair and looked at Hermione, his eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what could be wrong.

Harry slowly reached out to squeeze her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but she took a step back and looked down at the floor. Both Harry and Ron were bewildered by her behavior, and then Ginny Weasley bounded up, to see if anything was the matter with her older friend. She took one look at Hermione and seeing the swollen condition of the older girl's mouth, her kind brown eyes widened in concern.

"Hermione, what happened?" Ginny asked gently.

The older girl shook her head. "Nothing. I just need to go clean up and go to bed."

The youngest Weasley nodded and slowly approached the girl, gently putting her arm across Hermione's shoulder. Ginny then led Hermione upstairs, as the older girl seemed barely aware of her surroundings, and Ginny noticed how Hermione shied away when a male presence drew near. Ginny bit her bottom lip and blinked, hoping that her suspicions were wrong.

Once they were in Hermione's prefect room, Ginny gathered the girl's pajamas and then began to run a nice hot bath for her. Once the bath was prepared, Ginny walked back into Hermione's room, and her breath caught as she saw the tears running down the older girl's face.

Ginny took a deep breath. "Hermione, I know something happened, that much is obvious. Can you at least tell me who it was?"

The older girl shook her head firmly, and then headed toward the bathroom. Once she was in the doorway of the bathroom, she looked at the youngest Weasley and tried her best to smile. "Everything will be fine again in the morning. Tell Harry and Ron not to worry. I don't want you to worry, either."

"Damn it!" Ginny snapped, much to the older girl's amazement. "You don't just come from you patrolling looking and acting the way you did. I know something happened! You wouldn't let Harry or Ron touch you. So who did this to you?"

"Nothing happened," Hermione screamed and then she turned her back to the concerned redhead, and her voice was ice when she spoke again, "Now go. I want to be alone. And as I said before, everything will be fine in the morning."

---------

He managed to get to Great Hall early for breakfast. He needed desperately to see her, to assure himself that she hadn't told Potter or Weasley, at least that was what he was telling himself. In truth he longed to see her, but he was unsure of how to explain this even to himself. She was after all a mudblood, but even that held little sway in how he saw her now. He had been unable to sleep throughout the night, but one could hardly tell by his appearance.

Almost all of the Gryffindors were present in the Great Hall, all except for two Weasleys, Potter, and her. Draco sighed as Crabbe and Goyle took the seats beside him, flanking him. He hated when they did this. It made him appear weak, as though he needed the protection. He was more than capable of handling himself.

The two large double doors swung open and suddenly the four missing Gryffindors walked in. All looking the worse for the wear, even Hermione. Hermione had always been a cheery morning person, but today was different, she was subdued, quiet, and kept her gaze to the floor. Potter and Weasley were trying to talk to her, but she barely responded with more than one or two word phrases. The youngest Weasley just looked at the two boys and shook her head, indicating to them to just leave the girl alone.

And almost as though she could feel his eyes on her, she suddenly looked up, her brown eyes burning with an inner fire as she met his cool silver stare. Her eyes held a challenge. Draco smirked, raised his goblet in salute, and raised his left eyebrow. He had always enjoyed a good challenge.

Breakfast passed by slowly for Hermione, she barely touched any of her food, and every time she looked up she was met with a silver penetrating gaze. She could feel his eyes on her, and much to her horror she felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine. She groaned when she realized that her next class was Advanced Transfiguration, and she knew that was a class she shared with Malfoy as well as Ron and Harry. How was she expected to survive?

She turned to Harry and Ron, trying to get in on the conversation, like she did every morning, but things had changed. They were the same, and she was different. She was very different. She felt a sudden chill, like glacier water running through her veins. She looked up and watched as Draco Malfoy left the Great Hall. She watched him leave, and much to her surprise and disgust, she wanted to go after him.

---------

He was the first to arrive in the Transfiguration classroom. He took his usual seat in the back and prepared for another day of Professor McGonagall praising her precious Gryffindors and scolding Slytherins. The classroom began to fill up and he looked up as he felt her presence enter the room. She was surrounded by Potter and Weasley, but the two boys were careful not to touch her, as apparently she did not want to be touched. Suddenly her head shot up and she looked at Draco Malfoy directly, their eyes locked, and the challenge sparked between them once again.

He watched as she took her usual seat up front by Potter. Ice streaked up his spine as he watched her sit down next to Gryffindor's Heedless Hero. He slowly let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It was not possible. How could he, Draco Malfoy, be jealous of Potter because of Granger?

Then it hit him. He had taken her last night, so she was his. That was the game. He had to make her realize that after calling him, when he claimed her, she belonged to him. He owned her.

McGonagall suddenly appeared at the front of the class. Everyone turned their focus to the teacher, everyone except Draco. His eyes remained on Hermione, although he did make sure to at least listen to the teacher. Then something caught his ear and he turned to face Professor McGonagall.

"As you know, each of you are required to successfully complete all theory work before you are allowed to begin the practical portion of the Animagus transformation. Theory work includes research and the discovery of your animal self through meditation," the professor said, and when the class nodded as one, she went on, "To make the theory work as simple as possible on each of you, I have devised a theory study project, that you are to do with a partner. Understand that only when both partners have successfully completed the theory work, will either of you be allowed to work on the practical portion. I already have you partnered as I see fit, so when I call your names I want you to take a seat next to your partner and get acquainted as your grades will not
only be measured individually, but according to the partnership as well."

Most of the class groaned at the idea of McGonagall having partnered them up, and Draco was curious about who he would be working with. A smile spread across his face when McGonagall called out Granger's name followed by his. He sauntered up to the front of the classroom where Potter moved, and Draco smirked as he took the seat Potter had just vacated. He then turned to see Hermione who was burning with disbelief and anger.

He leaned in close and spoke softly so that only she could hear him, "My, my, Granger, it would appear that we will have a few more midnight rendez vous beyond tonight. How strange that fate would keep us together. I also assume that you went to see Madam Pomfrey this morning?"

She turned her head slightly and glared at him before the words dropped like ice from her lips. "Not that it is any of your concern, I did see her. Keep in mind, if what happened has affected me in any way, this is my body, and I will choose what is done or not done to it from this point on."

"You're wrong," he hissed. "You are mine now, I've taken you fairly after answering your call."

"You have no power over me," she answered back.

He raised his eyebrow in her direction. "Is that so? Then why are you shaking? Are you so afraid to admit that you might want a piece of perfection. You belong to me, and I have every right to claim you whenever I wish, even now. We have a lot to discuss in the garden tonight," he whispered and then gingerly swept his fingers across her cheek. "My shadowed jasmine."

Hermione's eyes slid shut, and a shiver coursed up her spine. She tried to fight the sensations, but found herself unable to. She took a shaky breath and slowly opened her eyes to find both Ron and Harry staring at her and glaring at Malfoy respectively. The Slytherin simply smirked at Potter and Weasley, and then turned fierce silver eyes on the curly haired girl, and she knew that he had her trapped. How could she fight against something that made passion race with fire through her blood? Even if he had taken her in the beginning, she had eventually given in...

---------

He wasn't sure what had drawn him to the garden before midnight, but shortly after finishing his nightly rounds, he'd found himself wandering about the garden, breathing in the various scents of the flowers, taking into special account the jasmines. He'd called her his shadowed jasmine. She bloomed before him in the night, and the smell of jasmines was always the strongest in her presence.

He began to walk throught he garden, feeling the need to do something while he waited. He noticed several rose blooms and gingerly plucked from the bush a single white rose. He was careful of its thorns and then returned to the stone bench by the jasmines to await her arrival, and as he waited he looked at the inward spiral of the delicate, but dangerous bloom he'd plucked.

---------

She had just finished her rounds and knew that it was drawing close to midnight. Her feet began to head toward the direction of the garden. She sighed, wondering why she was going to see him, especially after he'd forced himself upon her the night before, and had been watching her ever since.

She pushed open the door, and headed toward the jasmines, thinking that she may have time to herself before being confronted by his overbearing presence, however this was not to be as she froze, when she saw him seated on the bench, obviously awaiting her arrival. He stood as she slowly approached, and she noticed something strange pass across his face. She then looked at the white rose he held in his hand.

He held it out to her, an offering. She took it and looked from the flower to him suspiciously, to which he replied, "I frightened you last night."

It was a simple statement.

Her eyes narrowed as she examined closely his every move. "What is it you wish to discuss? I know it's too much to hope for it being about our project. Especially since this little rendez vous was arranged before we knew about that project."

"I want to know how your voice called to me. I want to know why I can feel you singing in my blood," he answered, and she noticed how the light of the moon shone in his eyes.

"I have always sung. I just never sang in front of anyone other than my family, except over the summer. Not even Harry and Ron know that I like to sing. As for calling you, I never meant for that to happen, Malfoy," she snapped and then hissed as she drew in a sharp breath and dropped the rose.

She'd been twirling the rose in her hands when her fingertip caught on a thorn. Malfoy took her hand and held it up, examining the blood that was welling up on her fingertip. He then leaned down and took her finger in his mouth sucking on the wound. She watched him in bewilderment when he pulled back and then staunched the bleeding with a handkerchief he'd summoned.

She pulled back from him, but she couldn't help missing his touch, he'd been almost kind. She looked into his eyes, trying to read something in him, some motivation for his actions, but he was a mystery, a closed book. How could he seem so gentle and aloof after everything that had happened the night before?

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"It's only a cut, I'm sure you didn't mean for the rose to..." she paused when he shook his head, and then she realized what he was asking. "What do you think, Malfoy? It was my first time, so what do you think?"

"I wish it had been my first time," he offered and then ran his fingers lightly across her cheek, not sure of how to continue. "If I hurt you last night, then why are you here now? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I..." she hesitated and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're attracted to me. That's good actually. It's best when a possession admires its owner," he said with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the arrogant Slytherin. "I am no one's possession!"

"You are mine, and you will never escape that," he stated matter-of-factly, and then his expression softened. "Now sing for me."

"I'm not your canary!" she snapped.

He drew closer to her and his arms wrapped around her as he pulled her tight against him. "Sing for me," he repeated.

She looked up into his face, and her resolve broke as she realized that he did have power over her, immense power. Fear swept through her and she felt like a bird cornered by a cat. He's going to eat me alive, she thought, and then, Perhaps it's all for the best. I need someone and he is here.

She swallowed slowly and then began to sing.

"Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide, voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time, the night is my companion and solitude my guide. Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied? And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away..."

He soon broke off her singing as he captured her lips in a tender kiss of fervor and worship. She responded immediately and as she closed her eyes tears trailed from her eyes and down her cheeks. She realized that she was going to lose herself, and that didn't really matter anymore.

--------- Three Months Later ---------

He was found curled into a ball on the grounds of Hogwarts. He was cold to the touch, and he'd been shaking. They tried to help him, but every time they drew close he shied away from them, and then suddenly he uncurled from his fetal position and stood up, his silvery blond hair whipping in the wind, as he howled to the slowly lightening sky:

"Give her back or take me as well!"

The man who had sought to help the silver blond youth, stared at the boy in shock, wondering what the boy was talking about. The boy suddenly turned to face the man with long greasy black hair and dark billowing robes, the man the boy knew as a teacher, the Potions Master. He clawed desperately at the man's black robes and fell to his knees, begging, "Give her back to me, or deliver me to her. I thought she was mine, but I was wrong. She could call me because I was hers. I need her voice... I need her. Help me, please. Help me."

The Potion Master grabbed the boy's shoulder and helped the youth up. "Have you gone mad? Who are you talking about? And get inside before you catch your death out here!"

The boy turned wild silvery eyes on the man. "But I want death. It would take me to her, to Hermione. It wasn't a game. I was too ashamed to admit it. She owned me! A Mudblood owned a Malfoy. Damn it Snape! I know you carry a poison with you. Give it to me and no one will ever know!"

Snape looked wide-eyed at the boy, appalled at the youth's desperate plea for death. He'd never seen such a wild look in anyone's eye before. Snape escorted the young Draco Malfoy into the school, and then up to the headmaster's office.

--------- Two Years Later ---------

Harry Potter was the hero of the wizarding world. He'd defeated Voldemort and was about to marry Ginny Weasley. Still there was always something that haunted him. He'd saved so many lives, but there was one life that had meant the world to him, one important person that he'd failed. Hermione had been gone for over two years. Yes, she'd died in his arms after drinking a tainted bottle of Butterbeer while on a Hogsmeade trip.

It had been a slow poison, taking three days to begin its final work in killing her. She'd been fine the first two days and then her health began to deteriorate. And as she'd taken her last few breaths she'd made a strange request.

"Harry, watch after Draco. He won't understand. Tell him my voice is scattered in the wind. Tell him..." she stopped as a cough shook her body and blood began to trickle from the corner of her mouth, she closed her eyes and then finished what she had to say, "Tell him that I will always sing for him."

Harry blinked and sighed, as he remembered her last words. Ron had gone nearly mad with fury, as her last words had been for Malfoy instead of him. However the most surprising thing was that night at dinner, when Hermione's death had been announced to the school. Draco had stood up from where he sat and walked out of Great Hall. Harry had gone after him and delivered Hermione's message. Draco then drew back his fist and knocked Harry out, and then the Slytherin had disappeared, until Snape found him the next morning, huddled in a ball on the school grounds.

Harry sighed and then shuddered as he got a look at his surroundings. The corridors were white and sterile, and his footsteps echoed as he walked to the familiar ward. He nodded his head in greeting at the nurse behind the desk, handed her his wand, and then continued on his way. He looked down and shook his head, feeling foolish for carrying a bouquet of white roses and jasmines, but he'd been doing it every week for the past two years.

He finally came to the door at the end of the hall. He opened it and walked into the room. It was a private room, almost bare of personal possessions, and glaring white. Harry winced at the sterility of the room and then he noticed the room's sole occupant sitting huddled on the bed, arms wrapped around his folded up legs, with his chin resting on his knees.

Harry sat in the chair next to the bed and looked at the silvery haired young man on the bed. He took the vase from the table by the bed and replaced the old flowers with the new ones and looked at the broken man crouching on the bed, the man that Draco Malfoy had become.

He shook his head and wondered what had happened between Malfoy and Hermione. It must have been intense, he'd gathered that much. Still how could her death have driven the once proud Slytherin prince to madness? Harry wondered if Malfoy was even aware that his father had been responsible for Hermione's death. Harry looked at Malfoy, feeling pity for him, and wondering what his friend ever could have seen in him.

Harry was about to leave when a he heard something that sent a chill up his spine. He turned and saw Draco, he'd unclasped his arms and was sitting on the edge of his bed now. He looked at Harry and then spoke in a voice hoarse from disuse, "Sometimes she sings to me. Her voice is always carried on the wind. How long will it be before you deliver me to her, Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Malfoy? What are talking about?"

"Her voice, it calls to me, scattered in the wind, and I need to go to her," Malfoy said desperately. "Be done with me and let me go to her, I belong to her."

Harry backed out of the room and then shut the door. Suddenly the slight silvery blond young man rushed the door and began screaming, "She's calling me! Can't you here her singing! Let me go to her! She's singing for me! It's my final lullaby!"

End.