Rating:
15
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Hermione Granger
Genres:
Drama Angst
Era:
Harry and Classmates During Book Seven
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 11/28/2006
Updated: 03/15/2007
Words: 148,035
Chapters: 51
Hits: 126,771

Draco: Phoenix Rising

Cheryl Dyson

Story Summary:
Dumbledore is dead, Snape is a traitor and Draco is a Death Eater, but is he really cut out for a position on Voldemort's team?

Chapter 38 - Wedding Plans

Chapter Summary:
Draco and Bill Weasley have a chat.
Posted:
02/07/2007
Hits:
2,210


Chapter Thirty Eight - Wedding Plans

Hermione woke slowly to the delightful sensation of being wrapped in Draco's arms. She pondered leaving for all of five seconds, but realized she couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Her head was lying over Draco's left arm and her hair was trapped quite firmly beneath him. His chin rested against the top of her head and his right arm was flung carelessly over her chest. His right leg lay across her hips, effectively trapping her beneath his delicious warmth. The room was dreadfully cold, she realized.

Her right arm was between them, though her palm lay upon her waist and the edge of her hand touched Draco's bare thigh. Her other hand sat familiarly on his bicep.

She had nearly left him the night before--had gotten out of bed quite late without stirring him, but she had paused to look at him and that had been her undoing. His silver hair had glinted in the candlelight and his features had looked so beautiful and guileless... She had sent Harry a quick Patronus message and transfigured her clothing into pajamas--demure, warm, modest pajamas--and gotten back into bed with Draco.

Now she listened to the even sound of his breathing and felt the steady movement of his chest against her shoulder. She wondered what time it was--the darkness of the dungeon made it bloody difficult to determine that simple fact. She released Draco's arm and raised her wrist to look at the glowing numbers on her watch face. 6:42.

The tiny movement was enough to wake him. The rhythm of his breathing changed slightly and he tensed minutely, most likely in surprise.

"You didn't leave," he murmured.

"Apparently not. Did you want me to?"

He chuckled. "Definitely not."

"How do you feel?"

"You tell me."

She giggled. "You feel nice and warm."

"I feel wonderful. Would you like me to show you?"

Without waiting for her response, Draco levered himself downward in a lithe motion and twisted himself about. The movement ended with him lying half-atop her. His face hovered over hers for a moment and her heartbeat responded instantly to the look in his silvery eyes. She felt like a foolish damsel that had wandered into the dragon's lair. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she found that she didn't care.

After several soul-stirring kisses, he asked, "Do you think it was wise to stay here with me?" Hermione could barely breathe.

"No," she admitted. "It was probably the exact opposite of wise."

He made a noncommittal sound of agreement and proceeded to prove her words true beyond the shadow of a doubt.

An hour later, Hermione's body alternated between icy cold and blisteringly hot. Tremors of mindless desire enveloped her with a nearly physical pain; and all Draco had done was kiss her. She would never have imagined the variety of things one could do with lips, tongue, and teeth, but Draco could have written volumes on the subject. His hands had remained clamped firmly on either side of her waist--she marveled at his self-control and cursed him for toying with her. Hermione's restraint was completely gone. Her hands alternately twisted in his silken hair or gripped the smooth skin of his back and shoulders.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it any more, when she was nearing the point of begging--for what, she wasn't sure--he drew a ragged breath and kissed his way down her neck. Her relief was short-lived.

She didn't stop him when his hands slipped up to undo the first few buttons of her top. She didn't want to stop him. He followed his hands with his lips, button by button, until he reached her navel. His tongue plunged into the hollow and she gasped sharply and arched against him as a new form of desire flooded her senses.

Incredibly, he raised his head. His eyes looked like dusky pools in the near-darkness.

"So," he asked casually, "What shall we do today?"

The incongruous question couldn't quite penetrate Hermione's fogged mind.

"I imagine we can either go search for Horcruxes, or stay here where I can spend a few hours driving you half-mad with indescribable ecstacy."

Hermione thought her heart would stop for a moment and she struggled to find her voice.

"Hours?" was all she managed in a hoarse tone.

She could make out the twist of his incredible, talented lips as he smiled wickedly.

"Of course. You should know I'm not the type to pleasure myself, roll over, and light up a cigar while giving you a dismissive pat on the fanny... It's far more satisfying to bring you to the pinnacle of delight over... and over... and over." With each repetition, his tongue dipped into her navel and she shuddered, having no difficulty believing his words. He chuckled.

"I..." She couldn't seem to form a coherent thought. She knew she should choose the sensible route. Stop him from... hours of driving her half-mad with indescribable ecstacy. Although she really couldn't think of a valid reason why, at the moment.

He laid his cheek against her belly for a moment and her hand touched his sleek hair tenderly. She felt a sudden rush of something that wasn't desire. Something stronger and even more terrifying. She swallowed hard and refused to acknowledge it. Draco sighed.

Hermione held her breath when he raised his head again. His tongue touched her skin once more, sliding upward over the hill of her ribcage, caressing her breastbone, and followed the links of the chain around her neck. His breath was hot in her ear as he nibbled it with his teeth, sending shivers down her spine again.

"You're not quite ready for this, are you?" he asked. His voice wasn't amused or accusatory or disappointed--it was simply matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so," she managed shakily.

"All right, Granger. I'll let you escape with your virtue intact. This time." The words were tinged with amusement.

He pushed himself away from her and rested his head on the pillow. He left one hand on her stomach and his fingertips brushed her ribcage in a teasing caress. She began to fasten her buttons; glad he couldn't see the color of her cheeks in the dim light. She tried to convince herself that she was relieved.

"As I was asking, since you snuffed my first choice--what shall we do today?"

She forced herself not to think of his first choice.

"I do have one idea where we might find a Horcrux, but I don't think we should tell Harry," she said in as normal a voice as possible.

Draco gasped in mock astonishment.

"You? Keeping a secret from The Chosen One? Won't you have to turn in your Gryffindor robes for such an offense?"

She smacked him lightly on the bare chest.

"I have a good reason. But, I've been thinking--"

"When are you not thinking?"

She ignored that.

"I've been thinking about your parents."

Draco's hand on her skin ceased its motion.

"What about them?"

"How safe do you think they are? You've had some very close calls. What if Wormtail or Greyback had escaped to Voldemort with the news that you were alive? What do you think would happen to them?"

"I try not to think about it," he admitted. "But I don't know where they are. Which reminds me--how did you find me when I was in the forest?"

"I used a Scrying pool. Well, Firenze did, actually."

Draco's features twisted. "The bloody centaur?"

She scowled. "Yes, the bloody centaur. If not for Firenze, you would have been a werewolf's dinner."

"No, Fenrir had other plans for me," Draco said absently.

"What do you have against centaurs, anyway? They are intelligent living beings."

"So are Cornish Pixies, but that doesn't make them any less revolting."

"Centaurs are not revolting!"

Draco sneered. "Half-man, half-horse? Think about it! It's a perversion of nature."

Hermione sat up in annoyance and climbed out of his bed. She was almost grateful that they had returned to the comfortable state of continual disagreement.

"Your bigotry knows no bounds," she snapped and transfigured her clothing back into jeans and a T-shirt. She sat down and tugged her shoes on. Draco hadn't moved. She didn't need to look at him to know he was watching her with his patented annoying smirk.

She grabbed her wand and lit several candles before she walked to the dressing table and snatched up his comb. She yanked it through her tangled locks.

"Nice of you to return my comb," he commented.

"I didn't want you to have a panic attack when you noticed it missing."

Her eyes touched his in the mirror and she laughed at his expression. She carefully pulled the accumulated hair from the silver comb and vanished it before dropping the comb back onto the table.

"I'm going to get some breakfast. Are you coming?" she asked.

"I'll be along."

She shrugged and started out.

"Hey, Granger?"

She paused and looked back at him.

"Your shirt--what does it mean?"

Hermione blinked at him. She had unthinkingly turned her shirt into a duplicate of one of her favorites. It said ADIDAS. Almost, she told him the truth--that it was a Muggle company that made shoes. Instead, she grinned wickedly.

"It's an acronym. It stands for All Day I Dream About Sex."

She went out and Draco's incredible laugh followed her. She smiled. He was maddening, but so utterly damned attractive. She began to think virtue was overrated. Hours. God.

* * * * *

Draco watched Hermione leave and the bemused smiled stayed on his lips. He still couldn't quite resolve his astonishment at finding her in his bed. She was braver than he'd thought. His smile vanished at the memory of her warm and willing beneath him. She'd tested his control to its very limit. He wasn't quite sure why he'd stopped. After all, it had been Hermione's decision to stay. She probably wouldn't even have blamed him--afterward.

He realized he didn't want to take the chance. Hermione Granger would never be anyone's casual shag. Draco wasn't quite certain he wanted to sign on for the alternative: Commitment. Relationship. All that crap. He shuddered.

He swung his feet to the floor and sat up, pleased to note that a wave of dizziness did not accompany the motion. Pomfrey's potions seemed to be working. Draco rose and rifled through his new clothing. He spread several outfits out on the bed, admitting that Granger had some bloody good taste where he was concerned. She was even right about the yellow--it would probably look fabulous on him.

Draco wasn't quite ready to dispense with his brooding image, so he chose a silk shirt of charcoal grey and black trousers. He added a black cashmere jumper just because he liked the feel of it. He wet his hair from the nearby pitcher and carefully combed his golden locks back into place, trying not to think about Hermione tangling it in a mindless frenzy.

Damn. He'd probably have to go find Weasley and make some sort of amends. He'd not only broken his promise, he'd drop-kicked it off the parapet and watched it smash into smithereens. Draco grinned. Well, it had been worth it.

He walked into the Great Hall, ignored everyone gathered within, and sat down at his usual spot. A huge array of food magically appeared before him and he ate while casting a glance about the room. No one seemed to have noticed him, as they were all gathered near the teachers' table. Fleur Delacour was the current center of attention as she held up a lacy and sequin-bedecked white gown. Draco noticed the group was mainly female--Fleur, Molly Weasley, Hermione, the redheaded stick girl that Harry liked, and Luna Lovegood. He assumed Susan Bones was off practicing her petulant scowl.

The only other males present were Ron and Bill Weasley, and Bill was sidling away as if trying to make an escape. Bill spotted Draco and--to Malfoy's surprise--quickly strode in his direction. Draco watched him suspiciously and sipped his tea, wondering if he would have to suffer yet another Weasley tirade.

Bill sat down next to him and poured himself a cup.

"Wedding plans," he commented and sighed. "If a man has a brain, he just sits back, smiles, and says, 'That sounds fabulous, dear.' No matter the subject."

Draco didn't comment, deciding he'd rather be back in Fenrir's cluches than stand before an altar and willingly attach a permanent ball and chain to his ankle. Hermione caught his eye at that moment and beamed at him, causing Draco to break out in something of a cold sweat. He pushed his plate away.

"We're going to have the wedding here," Bill continued. "We planned to have it at the Burrow, but... that's not an option any longer. McGonagall says plenty of people have married here during the summer. Popular location, apparently. Fleur can't decide whether to have the ceremony in the courtyard, near the forest, near the lake, or God knows what other location. She wasn't too pleased when I mentioned we could have it in the Slytherin dungeon for all I care. That's when I knew it was time to retreat."

Draco said nothing, wondering why Weasley was talking to him at all. He noticed Ron standing near the women, clearing wishing he could escape, also, but not at all thrilled with the option Bill had chosen--Draco's company. Malfoy returned his gaze to Bill, who was clearly the handsomest of the Weasley clan, even with the jagged group of scars that marred one side of his face. His hair was coppery and pulled back into a lengthy ponytail. His blue eyes slanted to meet Draco's.

"If you're finished, will you take a walk with me?"

Draco shrugged and nodded. Bill rose and Malfoy followed, cocking a brow when they headed for the entrance to the Hufflepuff dungeon. The corridors were dark, but not nearly as mazelike as on the Slytherin side. Cressets flared into light ahead of them as they walked. Before long, they stood before a barred gate. The walls glowed magically with a bluish light and Draco watched as Fenrir Greyback got to his feet and walked to the bars to peer out at them.

"Visitors, eh? Why, if it isn't little Malfoy and a Weasley." Greyback's eyes narrowed at Bill in recognition. Draco felt a sudden odd kinship with the tall Weasley. He realized that he and Bill might be the only two of Fenrir's victims that hadn't been killed or turned into werewolves. "Back for more?"

Bill didn't speak, but the look in his eyes was cold. He turned and continued up the corridor. Draco looked at Fenrir for a moment longer. Captivity didn't seem to have affected the werewolf much. Greyback's fangs showed in a horrible smile.

"Just a few more days, Draco. A few more days and these bars won't hold me. Then, I'll be looking for you and your new little friends. Your tasty flesh will be mine, Malfoy. All mine." A hand snatched through the bars, grabbing at Draco, who wasn't the least surprised at the action. The sharp nails clawed the air a few inches from Draco's chest. He glared at the werewolf.

"I don't think so," he said and followed Bill, who had stopped at another cell four doors down. Bill entered and Draco looked inside curiously. A sturdy table had been placed in the room and Draco's iron cage rested atop it. Wormtail still scrabbled around inside. Bill bent down to look through the bars at the squeaking rat.

"Nice job on the lock," Bill commented. Draco remembered that this Weasley worked at Gringotts and likely had a passable knowledge of locks.

"I'm glad to see no one has let him out."

Bill shook his head. "He spent years and years as a rat. As far as I'm concerned, he can stay that way. Some of the others think he could lead us to Voldemort."

"No. Even if they let him out and kept him from bolting through a rathole, I'm sure the Dark Lord has placed enough safeguard spells on him that he'd be a gibbering mound of flesh before he could spill any secrets."

"Look, he's been scraping at the bars."

Draco bent close and spied a dusting of iron shavings on the table. Wormtail had been using his silver paw to try and cut through the bars. Draco grinned.

"Magic hand on iron bars? Bet that hurts, eh Pettigrew?"

The rat leaped at him and bared its teeth. Draco waggled a finger at him temptingly, just near enough so Wormtail couldn't reach him.

"Temper, temper," Draco cautioned. He straightened up and looked at Bill. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I don't know. Ron is always talking about you like you're evil incarnate. I figured he was either terribly jealous, or in madly love with you."

Draco choked for a moment and had to cough a few times to get his breathing back to normal.

"What?"

Bill laughed. "Well, you never know. Don't worry; I think its simple jealousy. We would have seen signs of the other thing by now."

"Let's bloody well hope so!"

Weasley laughed again. "You're all right in my book, Malfoy. Want to come to the wedding?"

"When is it?"

Bill's laugh was contagious this time.

"Damned if I can remember."