Thrill of the Hunt

I'll come to thee by moonlight...

Tonight was the night. With his invisibility cloak, the whole school was open to him during the night. For his birthday, his mother had sewn him an invisibility cloak. The cloth was particularly hard to come by and he knew what his mother must have suffered in order to get some from the bolt in the dungeons. One of his ancestors had been an excellent weaver and she had woven several magical cloths with such excellence that had yet to be challenged. The family kept several bolts of the remaining cloth in their vault and yet another set in their dungeon. It certainly paid to be a Malfoy.

He slid beneath the cloak with ease and slithered with equal ease out of the dormitories and through the common room. The freedom and danger gave him such a rush; he nearly voiced his joy. But it would never do to get caught, particularly not on his first night of freedom. He made his way through the castle to the astronomy tower; he had an appointment to meet. A lovely appointment too, she was known very well as the Ravenclaw Raven, "wanton sex goddess" he added in his mind. Ah, what lovely places he would visit tonight.

He stumbled. Blast it. He whirled around to melt the offending obstruction with his eyes when he found it to be a quickly retreating foot.

"Who-who's there?" A female voice. This could be interesting. As he walked silently to where he had just been the Weasley girl, Ginny, revealed herself hidden in the doorway of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She was leaning against the door and from the shining of her cheeks, it looked like she had been crying. No tears were leaking from her eyes now; she was scared out of her wits. He decided to have some fun. He quickly did a voice altering charm and sat down next to her, pinning her body to the wall.

"Don't scream." Her mouth stopped, half open. "I'm not particularly partial to the inside of your mouth." Her mouth snapped shut. He grinned with malice. Her tears had begun to leak again, and this time it was he who had caused them. "Being out, alone, in a dark corner of a very vast castle is very dangerous for a young girl." He pressed himself against her more, letting her feel the weight of him just a little. "You never know what could happen." He found the front of her cloak and then the hem of her skirt, he tickled the inside of her thigh. "Do you get my meaning?" The tears of fear flowed freely now, and she trembled slightly under his touch. Fear, again, no doubt.

He moved to get up and go to his meeting, the Raven's trembling was much more fascinating, but Ginny circled her arms around his waist and buried her head where she instinctively knew the crook of his neck would be. She continued to cry, exhaling her self-pity and inhaling the scent of expensive cologne. It seemed to stick to his-this was definitely a him, although it could be Millicent Bulstrode-skin, only to be drawn out when she breathed in. It smelled, well as wealth should smell. She looked up into the invisible face and felt an invisible hand on her cheek. Half of her was invisible, the cloak concealing her. She knew that in this state of vulnerability, of his confusion and of hers, she could find out who he was. She felt full of power for an instant, forgetting to cry and hugging him to her.

The hand on her cheek had moved to stroked her hair, eerily moving the hair in patterns that the human hand would make, but he had never seen. He didn't know what he was doing; he had never been in any sort of situation like this. She was clinging to him with a bit of desperation and he was...what the hell was he doing? He had an appointment to meet! Violently he shoved her away and stormed down the corridor, and finding that when he turned the corner the crying had resumed.

He arrived at the astronomy tower, only to find it empty. He checked his watch. 15 minutes after 10. Blast it! She had left. In the rules of the astronomy tower sexcapades if one partner was 10 minutes late, the other could leave assuming that partner would not show up. The female Weasley was going to pay for this. He nearly ran the whole way down to where she had been. There she was, her face pale in contrast to the flaming mess that she called hair, her cheeks damp and probably soft from the salt of her tears. Her green eyes wide and worried, her knees drawn up to her chest, slender wrists keeping slender ankles from moving. He debated his next move. He could wedge her in again or merely poke and prod her until she left. As if she knew he was there, she turned her eyes on him expectantly. He moved cautiously towards her, his hidden intent in his mind, then stepped out of the direction she looked and crushed her body with his, jerking her knees apart and settling between her legs.

"You're back." She reached into his cloak with her hand and put her hand on his cheek. He froze. Her thumb traced his cheek bone with undiscovered certainty. How was it that she was making him uncomfortable? She was supposed to be the one trembling with fear. He raised his hand, carelessly allowing it exposed from the cloak. He shut her eyes with his fingers and raised his wand.

"No Verum."

Her eyelids wouldn't open. She wondered briefly why she didn't struggle before she felt his lips on hers. She stiffened; this wasn't what she expected. The romance novels always described kissing filled with need and a drive. Here was his mouth, warm and...what? Yes it was seeking something, it was seeking her mouth to answer his, answer his questions. Yes it was comforting, strangely familiar. Yes it was connecting her with this unknown body filled with the confusion that filtered her fingertips.

She became aware of their hands then, they were exploring each other. While their lips met and pressed against each other, her hands sought the invisible form before her closed eyes. Her lips were becoming wet as they parted and she was vaguely aware of his hands pushing her cloak off her shoulders (Had he undone the buttons?) and hers doing the same to him (What about his buttons?) Her hands moved on their own, free of their master who was too preoccupied with the newness of it all, unbuttoning and removing clothing from what felt like a very well sculpted body. His tongue had joined hers in her mouth and she fought with him, forcing him back into his own mouth and conquering the cavern she found there. She knew no hunting, no seeking, but lazy exploration of his now naked form (How had that happened?) while he explored hers.

She had slid under him, noting his skin touching hers everywhere. He was gentle, stroking his hands down her body, igniting a warm, natural burning within her. She sought to do the same, to provide the same warmth he gave to her. She wasn't cold. No, if anything she was too hot. His hands were doing things, wonderful things to her. She couldn't keep still, confused at her sudden desperation to cool the heat. She knew not how, and yet he guided her, guided himself into her, hurting her with a blissful hurt. She would always remember this pain. There was no danger in him, she decided, he was helping ease everything with his rocking, kissing, cradling. He was trying to help her rid herself of the heat, just as he had helped her banish the cold before. Sounds she didn't know ignited such a strange new reaction from her. She was hotter than ever now. Too hot. Too much warmth. Soon, it would be over. He would help. She tried to do what he did. Tried to help him too. He must be dying of heat. The sounds grew louder. Soon. Soon. Their mouths parted, and his head rested on her shoulder. He was sweating. She was sweating. Together they would get rid of the heat. Together. Yes, together. The heat swelled and finally burst. It became too much for itself and exploded. It was bliss, the heat was leaving and she was returning. Sweaty and sleepy.

Draco didn't allow himself the luxury of lying on her after he had regained his senses. He sought, found, and placed his clothing on his body. How on earth had she managed that? That had to have been the best sex he'd ever had. He looked at the clock before getting into bed. It was around one. Who knew Weasley had it in her. A few minutes ago she'd had him in her. He smiled, remembering.

"Verum."

He looked down at her as she opened her eyes, looking like a fawn finding sight for the first time. She looked beautiful in the flush of after-sex. He smiled as he turned to walk away. She had been surprisingly non-resistant, almost willing to let him have her. She had been tight, oh yes she had been tight, and a virgin, no doubt. The way she had whimpered...he had forgotten what it was like to have a virgin. Her touches had been so innocent yet skilled. Well there had to be some reason why there were so many Weasleys in that family. It was probably hereditary. Such a wonderful gift, and such a pity he had to acquire his skill. But that was no matter, he had his skill now, and it was quite useful. He loved being able to wrap girls around his little finger, to torture and tease them and make them beg for him. It was much better than simply over powering them. To be desired was all he wanted, and desire him they did.

The Common Room was empty, as was to be expected when he returned. He crept noiselessly around the black, leather couch and brushed gently against the green tapestry, embroidered with a silver cobra on his way to the dormitories. No one was awake when he entered, but he wouldn't have been questioned if they were. No ever questioned a Malfoy's actions in his circle and they were probably too accustomed to this anyways.

The sheets held no comfort for him, the satin slithering over his skin like snakes. His arms folded behind his head, the curtains didn't ripple like they would have the manor when his windows were open. Through them, the hum of Crabbe's snoring came in, drilling at his brain like his owl would nip at his ears. He wasn't tired; his body felt as though he had been swimming in the lake with a pound of lead tied to his legs, but his mind couldn't have been more alert. The alertness wasn't frightening, but oddly calming, as if he had returned to a pleasant dream after violently being awoken from it. He watched the ceiling, memorizing the veins in the wood as it became lighter and lighter and finally he could hear the telltale snorts and shuffles of boys waking up. Sliding out of bed, he noticed the invisibility cloak pooled on the floor where he had left it. When he returned it to the trunk, he faintly smelled honeysuckle before it was drowned in his trunk by the scent he called his own.

Today's breakfast seemed to taste better than it ever had. A danish and an apple scone on his plate, he knew if he were any other boy he would be teased for his fondness of fruit. He had sat himself facing the Gryfindor table, watching for Ginny out of the corner of his eye. He felt as if he needed to thank her, but Malfoys never thanked anyone. Determined, he drove his subconscious to the corner of his mind where he guarded it with a whip and strode off to History of Magic, Crabbe and Goyle having left their meals abruptly to follow him.

He was early and he knew it, but he made his silent excuse by adding a few more sentences to his essay.

"Late night, huh, Draco?" Crabbe asked as he finished writing. Being perverted and incapable of getting people to sleep with them, they always liked to hear about his latest sexcapade.

"You could say that," he murmured, closing his book, leaning back, and putting his feet on the desk. "She was good."

"Pansy won't be happy if she finds out."

"Goyle, Pansy's never happy." His two friends sniggered. Vaguely, he wondered how such large persons were able to snigger, he had always imagined thin, pointy-nosed henchmen curling up and laughing behind their hands sniggering, but Crabbe and Goyle were doing precisely that. As if she knew they were talking about her, she walked in, chatting animatedly to Millicent Bulstrode.

"Oh you must see them. They've got this dainty strap that ties just below the ankle and clasps with little butterfly and the heel makes me, maybe 3 inches taller." Pansy sat in the seat just in front of Draco and Millicent followed.

"I thought you weren't allowed to buy any more shoes?" said Millicent, straitening the feather quill so that it was smooth.

"Oh, but I didn't buy them, someone gave them to me." Pansy raised her voice slightly. "Do you have any idea who that someone could be?" she asked, looking pointedly at Draco. Crabbe shifted in his seat.

"No."

His tone said it all, it was so flat that it crushed her hopes and she colored slightly, almost embarrassed to expect that it was him. Other students came in, filtering around them as they settled into their desks. Pansy and Millicent went back to discussing clothing, joined by Blaise who settled herself next to Goyle, who didn't seem to notice. They sat to his left, Blaise leaning across the aisle to talk to the other two Slytherin females in his year. He studied her; she was pretty enough with long black hair and sparkling amber eyes. She would be very good for the man who claimed her; he almost wished he were attracted to her, but he was the only one who knew her secret that he had found out the only night he had attempted to date a girl for a romantic inclination. He supposed her reaction was why he had never tried again.

Catching his pondering stare, Blaise winked before turning to the head of the classroom. Professor Binns glided through his desk to the bookshelf where he pulled musty old book off the shelf, cracked it open, and began his lecture. His voice crackled through the air like wind carrying dry leaves and Draco fought to stay awake and pay attention. A sleepless night and a boring hour almost took away his ability to take notes but he fought on, trying to make sense of the wind-like tones emitted from the ghost until the magical bell rang, signaling the end of the hour and Draco gratefully stood up. Blaise fell into step beside him as they made their way to Arithmancy.

"Boring as ever," she remarked, clutching her books to her breast.

"Well he's had a couple hundred years to improve his technique. Maybe he wants us all to fail and not pay attention." She laughed.

"I hear you had a late night."

"Yeah."

"I also hear you didn't meet her."

"Yeah."

"Then why the late night."

"I got sidetracked."

"Really? Since when do you get sidetracked Mr.OneTrackMind-Penis."

"Still with that hyphenated, fictitious last name? I thought you gave that up ages ago."

"Well, I did. I had forgotten about it. But when I was unpacking I found your letter again."

"Ugh. Don't embarrass me."

"All you needed was to write odes to my eyes and it would have been perfect."

"Blaise..."

"Ok, fine. But seriously, why the late night?"

"I didn't think this would be a big deal last night. In fact I thought it would never be mentioned again."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Yes, I am."

"C'mon, penis man."

"I met someone along the way and did it with her instead, happy?"

"Ooh, this is much better than what I thought. Who was it?"

"You. You were sleepwalking in your birthday suit and horny as hell, so horny that you forgot I had a-"

"Draco!"

"Did I say something wrong?" He spread his lips in an angelic smile. They had reached the Arithmancy classroom and sat at a desk in the back. "It's times like this that make me wish I were betrothed to you instead of Pansy."

She looked down. "You wouldn't want that."

"At least you make me laugh, and you'd be up for a three-some." She smiled.

"Yes. Yes, I would. Just make sure I choose the girl because, quite honestly, you have horrible taste. I mean, you had a crush on me!"

He thought sixth year was supposed to be fun, it was the year after his OWLs and the year before his NEWTs, but the amount of homework he had left him stunned nonetheless. In past years, he had done his homework in the Common Room surrounded by noise where all he would have was to memorize potions ingredients and practice wand movements. When the noise became too distracting, he moved up to the dormitory accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle who needed all the help they could get with their homework. Now, he didn't have enough time to help them at all and after the first week, spent his time in the library alone. Crabbe and Goyle never came to the library, perhaps it was because there were so many books that they struggled with when reading that the amount in the library was terrifying, or maybe it was Madame Pince who after having caught one of them eating and spilling crumbs all over her precious book had screamed at them like a very articulate banshee and kept a nastily close watch on them whenever they entered the library. Tired of having to lug all the books from the library to the dungeons (which were on opposite sides of the castle), he had camped out every evening after the first week until it closed.

He had come to know the usual crowd that came here; there was Granger of course, and a few younger Ravenclaws. Nearly all of the seventh years spent their evenings here as well writing scroll after scroll of parchment for various classes. It was a wonder that after seeing the amount of work they did that he wasn't afraid of seventh year. It was the last year he would be single; the last year that he would not serve the Dark Lord. Perhaps because it would be his last year of freedom he thought of it with affection. Some of the younger students came and went, and a few fifth years always sat huddled together. Luna Lovegood, Colin Creevey, and Ginny Weasley occupied the table just beyond his. He couldn't see them without turning, but he had no need to turn. He had homework.

Sometimes he would turn and see the candlelight glinting off of the Weasley girl's hair. Usually, she sat crosslegged on the chair with her face propped on her elbow, her cheek smushed to the side with her fist. There were inkstains on her hands and she always handled the books with care, as if the were the most valuable things in the world. Snidely, he thought they were probably the most valuable things she had ever handled and it was lucky her robes were black for the number of times she wiped the ink from her hands onto them.

The three of them often worked in silence, and he was grateful not to be distracted. As he observed over the weeks, he noticed that they would sometimes go, leaving Ginny alone. Sometimes one would leave, sometimes the other, and sometimes both of them would go off together and he would catch her staring at their empty chairs for minutes at a time.

Sometimes Blaise would come and find him and they would work together. Out of all the Slytherins, he shared the most classes with her and it was nice to have someone to share the frustration with. She would sit across from him, the candles sending shards of light through her eyes and still Ginny would work on, whether or not she was alone. Ginny was like clock work, always there from right after dinner until closing time like she was meant to be there and he doubted the library would feel the same without her.