Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Genres:
Romance Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 06/26/2005
Updated: 11/03/2006
Words: 3,829
Chapters: 4
Hits: 1,522

The Cloak

DMissofineandallmine

Story Summary:
'She left behind her the only man she would ever love for the man she could ever love.' A cloak is the only link between four people whose relationships and realities we cannot possibly fathom.

Chapter 02 - Chapter 2

Chapter Summary:
Late night rendez-vous
Posted:
08/27/2006
Hits:
141


Chapter 2

Not all that glitters is gold. Not all who wander are lost.

~J.R.R. Tolkein

"I didn't think you were going to come," she said when the door swung open.

He grinned. "I wanted to see you."

She slid off the desk she had been sitting on for the past twenty minutes. He clicked the door closed behind him and started towards her. Her hands were folded across her chest, but she didn't seem cross, even though he was late. Her slender frame glowed in the moonlight. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled tightly into a bun and she was wearing only her silk nightgown, her shoulders and knees exposed.

"It would've been better if you hadn't come."

"Why's that?" he asked, finally reaching her. He reached out and ran his fingers down her bare arm. She shivered and pulled away.

She closed her eyes briefly. "It's becoming too dangerous. Us. This."

He smirked. "Don't tell me you're frightened, Parkinson."

She scoffed. "Of course not. But, we would both be murdered if anybody found out."

He stepped back a little. "Is that why you sent me the owl?"

She reached out a frail hand to him, but he was just out of her grasp. "We knew from day one, Harry...."

He nodded, not daring to meet her fierce blue eyes. "Fine." He turned, tossing his midnight locks into his eyes, and headed for the door without one more word.

"Potter!" she called out, causing him to pause a few feet from the heavy wooden door, but he didn't turn. She took a few desperate steps towards him. "Please. Don't leave. Not like this."

"Then tell me how I shall leave, Pansy."

She finished her trek towards him and placed her hand gently on his upper arm. He turned his head slightly so he could see her, but still stayed facing the door.

She sighed heavily. Why did she want him to stay so badly? She knew, logically, it would just be best if he left now and never looked back. For both of them. It was dangerous for them to keep carrying on this affair. It was just flirting and snogging; she didn't need him. But something in her kept her hand on his shoulder.

"Kiss me," she commanded quietly.

Harry turned to face her and cupped her chin in his hand, leaning in to obey. Their lips crashed into each other's heatedly. Harry pushed her back against the nearest desk and put his other hand on the small of her back, crushing her into him. Her hands were up around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

He finally pulled away, allowing them each a much-needed breath. "What happened to we shouldn't be doing this?"

She shrugged, a smirk adorning her lips. "What can I say? You're a good kisser."

He grinned. "So I've been told."

She smacked him on the arm playfully. He grimaced like it had hurt, causing a small smile to cross her lips. "Prat."

"Yes, but a rather good looking one, if I do say so myself."

She pulled him to her again and placed her lips against his, but only briefly. "You're worse than Malfoy."

Harry's green pools darkened and his grin faded. "Don't."

Pansy knew she had crossed a line. Without apology, she pulled him to her again and, like they always settled disagreements, soon all was forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The common room was bathed with the moonlight. A single light was shining near the couch, a cool breeze licking at the flame as it entered from the open window, where the curtain blew hesitantly. The figure near the flame was resting his forehead between his thumb and forefinger, concentrating deeply on a small, red-leathered book in his other hand. His robe had been discarded on the adjacent chair, his tie loosened, and his shoes kicked off and discarded at the foot of the couch.

His face was shadowed, but his blonde hair was glowing. He frowned at something on the page before gently turning it. The portrait slid open and he looked up, his smirk immediately settling on his lips as the occupant, a bit ragged, staggered in.

"Late night rendezvous, Granger?" he asked, closing his book and setting it on the dark cherry table.

She glared at him as she made her way to an armchair. She fell into it, sighing heavily. Lifting her feet, she stacked them on the coffee table and rose her eyes to meet his.

"Yes, Malfoy, that's exactly where I was. Taking a moonlit stroll with my secret lover."

He scoffed and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "You only wish your life was that exciting, Granger. What were you looking for tonight? Your hands are empty." He nodded towards his room at the top of the staircase. "You can have a look at my collection, but I highly doubt you and I have the same interests."

"I wasn't looking for anything particular tonight, but I'll keep the offer in mind." She closed her eyes. Slowly, she reached into her pocket and flicked her wand at the fire, muttering something incoherent to the other occupant. A few seconds later, however, flames sputtered to life in the fireplace.

"Cold?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really, I just like to hear the pop. Its soothing."

"Whatever, Granger."

She opened his eyes just as he made to stand. "What were you reading?" she asked, nodding towards the book.

He picked it up and held it tight to him. "You wouldn't like it."

She smiled. "Try me."

Malfoy shook his head and turned. He made his way towards the staircase. He had one food on the bottom step when he turned back around. "MacBeth," he answered.

"I've never read it. It's by Shakespeare, right?" She paused for a moment. "Isn't he a muggle writer?"

Draco smirked. "It's a story about greed and getting everything you wanted."

"Your kind of tale," she commented.

His smirked widened. "Here,"--he tossed the book to her, landing it in her lap--"you can keep it. It's a bit dull anyway." Turning, he finished the last few steps and entered his bedroom, the door settling noiselessly into the frame behind him.

Hermione picked up the book and examined its rich, red cover, feeling the leather binding with her fingers. Yawning, she shifted and stood. She made her way past the discarded shoes and robe, still lying where he had left them, and up the other flight of stairs, extinguishing the fire with another flick of her wand before she pulled her bedroom door closed.


I know it's been a while. WHen I started this story I had a lot of good ideas...unfortunately they only consisted of a beginning and an end. The middle is finally starting to come to me, and as it comes I give it to you, my wonderful fans. Thank you for being so patient. I hope you enjoyed this chap. Sneak peak at next time: “I may have to marry you, Parkinson, but I don’t have to like you. And I’d like to remind you of just one small fact.” He forced her face towards his, holding her chin tightly in his bony fingers. “Though my parents would desperately agree of our union, I assure you, there are many other pureblood, child-bearing girls that would be more than happy to be in your place.” Always, Als (Dm.)