Safety in the Storm

THE PLACE THAT YOU HAVE COME TO FEAR THE MOST

"The grave that you refuse to leave,

The refuge that you built to flee,

Is the place that you have come to fear the most."

--Dashboard Confessional

"Pick your jaw up off the floor, Hermione. It's really not a good look for you."

Her throat worked and her lips mouthed out words of protest, yet all that she managed to audibly get out was a feeble squeak.

The corners of his mouth twitched enough to hint of a smile before he continued. "Am I making you nervous?"

Humiliation was not something that Hermione was not used to or particularly liked and without the guarantee that her voice would be making an appearance, she had no intention of standing there gawking any longer. So she turned and sped down the hall.

When in doubt, flee.

Of course, once she was on the stairs she felt even more humiliated than she would've if she'd simply held her ground and embarrassment quickly flooded into her body making it hard to stay upright.

She couldn't remember ever losing her composure so completely before, well, over a guy that is. She was always calm and levelheaded. And it wasn't as if she'd never seen a half-naked man before. Hell, it wasn't as if she'd never see *him* half-naked before either.

She was determined to be an adult about the entire situation.

With a brief breath to sooth her nerves, she began to climb the stairs once again but found herself hesitating. It suddenly seemed safer to wait until he was dry and fully dressed before she attempted being mature with him. Her insides were all squishy.

Yes, definitely the smart thing to do, she decided, noticing the slight tremor in her hands.

Damn him.

* * * * *

They took dinner upstairs to the library (which Jonathan had the foresight to clean while they both were showering) along with a blanket and a few cushions. As he followed the two onto the landing, Draco couldn't help but pause as a shiver tickled the back of his neck. Glancing down the darkened hall opposite the library a moment, he was unable to shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Night was quickly descending, leaving deep shadows throughout the house that flickered in the candlelight and played tricks on his eyes. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw the glint of eyes up on the landing above them but they were gone so quickly, it had to be his imagination.

But once they were settled in the library on their cushions, eating the steaming soup and freshly baked bread, his worries were eased aside. The fire was cozy and warm and they talked softly among themselves as the last of the sunlight faded and the room seemed to darken and close in around them.

"And we weren't able to break the charm on Jonathan for four hours. I had the hardest time trying to explain why a penguin was following me around," Draco finished his elaborately concocted tale depicting one of Jonathan's many transformations into members of the animal kingdom. They were all lies, of course, done only to poke fun at his friend but throughout the first two stories, Hermione looked as though she actually believed him. She even went so far as to ask about the subsequent charms or whatnot that had caused or cured the poor man. This of course egged him on further.

Hermione cleared her throat and peeked at him over her mug before setting the ceramic cup down. "You know, I'm beginning to think you're a compulsive liar."

Maybe she wasn't so gullible after all. "Well, I guess it depends on what you define compulsive as. If you think that compulsive means that I *want* to lie, take *pleasure* in lying--"

"Don't even try to deny it, buddy. I'm on to you."

Draco grinned. "You're tight. I'm not fooling anyone. I am a closet compulsive liar. Is this an intervention? If it is, don't you think all my friends should be here?"

Jonathan snickered into his bottle of ale. "Don't kid yourself. You don't have any other friends."

"Oh yeah." He looked to Hermione who was biting her lip in an effort not to laugh. When she noticed him glaring, she went back to drinking her coffee like it was a lifeline, holding it cupped in her small hands.

He'd never met anyone quite like her. She could remain perfectly quiet and still yet she lured his eyes to her, distracting him. She exuded a captivating quality that he could not turn away from. They were big men, Jonathan and him, tall and imposing, but somehow from the moment she entered the library, her small body seemed to fill up the room. She wasn't formidable like them, no she was deadlier than that; she was charismatic.

He watched as she stood and stretched, looking quite adorable in a pair of Jonathan's navy blue boxers, white undershirt and plain socks pulled up over her calves.

"I'm going to take this downstairs," she said, gesturing to the tray of uneaten food and dirty dishes. "I need a refill. Do either of you want anything?"

Shaking his head, Jonathan tossed her his wand and stretched back on the floor, patting his stomach contentedly. "Nah, I'm good."

After Draco shook his head as well, she levitated the tray in front of her and floated it out the room. The minute she was gone, Jonathan pounced.

"So, I noticed that you didn't deny the fact that she was your friend."

Draco sighed. "Men and women can be friends, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's you and women being friends that I question. I like her, don't go breaking her heart."

Growling in frustration, Draco called a random book off a shelf to him with his wand and smirked as it flew remarkably close to Jonathan's head. "Then I have no chance with her at all. My life is too unpredictable, too cold for lo--a relationship. Besides, it's too hard, too much work. I have enough to worry about right now." He lay back against the floor letting his head thump painfully.

"That's the way *love* works," Jonathan said, stressing the word Draco hadn't been able to say. "People that are meant to be together... well, they have to fight. You don't just meet someone and then life is peachy. It doesn't work that way."

"I can't believe you just said 'peachy.'"

"Don't change the subject."

Truthfully, the word love had left Draco feeling squeamish but not because of the emotion itself. No, he was afraid of ruining her innocence, corrupting her, or making her guilty.

He *wanted* to love her. He wanted to know that she wanted him like he wanted her. He just wasn't sure if it was the smart thing to do. If anything, he needed to keep her safe.

And he would.

* * * * *

The blackness was closing in on her again, brushing its curling tendrils against her exposed arms and face. She wanted to brush them off, swipe them away, but her hands remained tightly bound to the pole behind her.

Her breath hitched as a wave of dizziness swept over her and Ron's strong fingers clumsily fumbled around hers, struggling to reassure her despite his own restraints. They couldn't speak, not out of fear of being heard or for lack of words, but because when they bestirred they found that a silencing charm had been cast.

As terrified as Hermione was, she wished that Harry wouldn't take the bait and try to rescue them. Just as the hope passed through her, the darkness was pierced by the lighted tip of a wand, shining like a confident blue beacon in the dense, tangible shadows. Harry's grim face shone brightly and she jerked against her shackles, attempting to warn him off, to thwart his hopeless rescue endeavor. But it was no use. He paid her silent objections no mind and freed her from her binds quickly before turning to Ron to do the same.

Without notice, an icy cold arm snaked around her waist and jerked her noiselessly away, away from Harry and away from the inviolable brilliant circle of light she so longed to be in, her mouth forming a silent 'oh' of terror. She was consumed by the darkness again and she was afraid it would be the last thing she'd see.

The raucously grating voice by her ear was nasally sardonic and it echoed through the chamber.

"Harry, Harry," it hissed. "You haven't learned a bit, have you." The light, now distant at the other end of the chamber of secrets arched around, as if searching. How did they come to be so far so fast? She couldn't remember moving all that way. "You never turn your back on someone you cherish when they're all alone in the dark."

She struggled to get away but the black ice that was holding her tightened around her, piercing into her, her body becoming numb by it.

"Hermione!" she heard Harry call, his voice anguished in despair. She knew what he was thinking. He had failed her. 'Oh, but you didn't,' she longed to yell. She failed him. If only she had been more observant, more attentive to her surroundings, then she wouldn't have been abducted in the first place and he would've had no need to be down there at all.

"You cannot win, Harry. Not in the realm of the dark. I rule here, I am King... and you are all but pawns in my game." Harry and Ron were closer now. Hermione could just make out their faces as they searched the blackness for the owner of the echoing voice. "Now, say goodbye to your beloved hero, mudblood. The hero who could not save you."

Suddenly, the dull pressure of off, the spell dissolved, and her voice vibrated wonderfully in her throat as her scream stabbed at the night.

"Not exactly a goodbye but it'll have to do," the voice rasped and Hermione froze, tears trickling down her cheeks, as a smooth steel knife was drug along the curve of her neck. She knew it wasn't deep but her legs gave way anyway and a quiet sob escaped her lips as she crumbled to the floor. Then the blade was to her throat again, this time slicing deeper, keener into her before a flash of red from Harry sent the knife clattering across the stone floor.

She was so cold.

* * * * *

Gasping for breath, she scrambled up out of bed before realizing where she was. But the darkness, the creepy feel of the place, the muted echoes of her dream; it all came crushing in on her.

It was a dream, she told herself, trying to will her heart to slow its racing and to still her shaking hands.

But it didn't work. Her mind was still back in that chamber and she threw her arm in from of her eyes, trying to blind herself to the images, but the visions persisted. She could not close her eyes against it, for the visions became all the more realistic when her eyes shut. Nor could she turn away, for the images followed her.

Emitting a strangled scream of frustration, she stepped out onto the balcony, letting the freezing air shock some sense into her. It worked; gradually the images faded away until they were once again only memories of past horrors. But the fear and panic were still coursing through her body leaving her shaking and breathless and it was only a matter of time before the tears began to streak down her cheeks.

* * * * *

Draco startled awake, utterly disoriented. Blinking into the darkened stillness of the bedroom yielded no clues as to what had awakened him. He held his breath, listening carefully to the night sounds: crickets chirping in the gardens down below, an owl hooting off in the distance, a hushed sobbing--

Sobbing? He quickly slipped out of bed and pulled on his robe without making a sound, something he did with a practiced ease. The muted crying was obviously Hermione and a million scenarios flitted through his head as he adjusted his grip on his wand. Opting to use the balcony door rather than taking the hallway in case Damien really had found them, Draco turned the knob soundlessly and took a preparatory breath before easing the door open. Much to his surprise, Hermione was curled up in the corner of the double balcony alone. Making sure that there really wasn't a threat lurking around, he took a tentative step towards her form and whispered her name.

When she made no response, gave no sign she even heard, he became concerned and moved toward her.

"You okay?" he whispered, crouching down beside her and running a finger over her cheek, trying to get her attention.

She mumbled something incoherent through her arms, hair and tears.

In that instant, he made up his mind and slipped an arm underneath hers, circling it around her waist and lifting her up off the stone balcony. Her body was cold, freezing really, and as his warmth seeped into her body, she melted into him. A small sound, something akin to a whimper, escaped her lips and she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Draco wrapped his arms tightly around her as he rocked her gently. His lips softly caressed the curve of her neck of their own accord as he tried desperately to calm her.

* * * * *

She wasn't sure how long he'd held her, stroking her hair and whispering soft, soothing reassurances but slowly her body began to relax and the sobs turned into dry hiccups. Sniffling, she pulled back; suddenly she was afraid of the questions he would ask.

"Hermione," he began and he reached out a hand towards her. Unconsciously, she took a step back and he flinched and dropped his hand back down to his side to fiddle nervously with his wand. He made the tip glow a soft orange reminding her of a flame of a candle. "You're not going to tell me what's wrong, are you..."

Sighing, she hung her head and rubbed her arms, trying to get feeling back into them. Silence took over as they both avoided the others' gaze until she could take it no longer and she turned, facing out into the dark night and gripped the strong railing.

He did not say any more, did not pry, but his tone spoke of his frustration, demanded an answer, an answer that she did not want to give.

She relaxed her hands, resting them lightly on the cool stone railing surrounding the small terrace and her breath became ragged as Draco stepped up beside her and covered her left hand with his right one. Without thinking, Hermione turned her hand so their palms were touching and she closed her eyes.

She wanted to tell him. The thought struck her suddenly and she turned it over in her mind a few times, enjoying the weight and warmth of his hand on hers.

"I have dreams," she began softly, keeping her eyes shut. "Nightmares really... about Voldemort... the night Colin died... the night *I* almost died. You know, I'd always thought that I would gladly sacrifice myself for Harry or Ton, but that night--I was scared. I--" She blinked back tears and looked over at him as he stared out into the night, his expression blank. "I realized that the sorting hat had been wrong when he placed me. I was anything but brave, I was anything but a Gryfindor."

Sucking in a breath, she waited, waited for any comment he might make but he remained silent, choosing to instead lace his fingers through hers and give her hand a brief squeeze. They both looked up at the starry night sky and after a few moments, a shooting star streaked right across the middle.

"Did you see that?" Hermione asked. When he didn't answer, she looked up at him. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was parted slightly, curving gently in a peaceful smile, accentuated by the deep shadows of the night.

"Shh," he said lightly, his smile spreading wider. He was making a wish. Why did it surprise her that Draco Malfoy would wish on a falling star after everything else she had recently learned about him?

"What did you wish for?" she asked when his eyes opened and sought out hers.

"If I tell you, it won't come true."

Warmth spread through her and she knew without a doubt that her nightmares would not be plaguing her again that night.

"Fair enough," she replied, stifling a yawn. Mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, everything seemed to catch up to her all at once.

He inched closer, his face creeping into the circle of illumination emitted by his wand on the railing between them. All of his features were alight with a misty glow of the imitation flame... and something else.

Something bitter, wistful. Something yearning.

His thumb began to softly trace the back of her hand leaving tingles in its wake. She felt his presence like she felt her own heartbeat; strong and steady, coursing through her veins like molten lava. Heat rose between them, surrounding and saturating them with an undeniable need that had been building since that first kiss a mere two days before.

"You should go to bed soon," she whispered, lost in the swirling blue and grey of his eyes. "You have a big day tomorrow."

The moment she finished speaking she wished she could smack herself. His eyes closed off to her once again, his body visibly flinched, and he recoiled back a step. Oh, why did she have to open her big mouth? It had always been a nervous habit of hers, babbling incoherently during the most inopportune times.

"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled. "Good night."

And with that, he was gone.

With a heavy heart, Hermione rushed to her own bed and hid under the heavy blankets.

* * * * *

Her eyesight was still unfocused as she stumbled into the kitchen the next morning.

"Morning princess. My, what a hair statement you are making today." Jonathan was perched on top of one of the counters, The Daily Prophet in his hands.

Hermione blew him a kiss, and then politely gave him the finger. Peering around, she sighed in relief as she spotted the percolator full of coffee.

"You sure are lovely in the morning," Jonathan continued sweetly. "Or is it just the fact that you didn't wake up next to me again? Because that can be arranged--" He wisely cut off as she tossed a dish towel at him. "You're mentioned, by the way."

Gulping down her first cup, she stared at his face blankly then pointed to her forehead. "See this headache, yeah, you're not helping it. Speak sense!"

"Testy, testy." He held up the paper. "The Prophet. There's a story on your disappearance today."

"What? Why?" Crossing over to him, she looked at the page. Suddenly she realized it was open to page three. Page three! What, she wasn't what they deemed front-page news? Thoroughly depressed, she nursed her second cup and pouted.

"It doesn't say much besides the fact that you are missing which is to be expected. The Ministry wouldn't have been able to hush up everything. It makes it sound as though you just up and left on a spur of the moment vacation with a lover, though."

"You'd think Harry Potter's best friend and roommate would be at least on the front-page," she grumbled.

Jonathan laughed. "Is that what you're upset about? The page number? If I were you, I would be more disturbed by this picture of you, but, hey, that's just me." He shrugged in a nonchalant manner and leaned down to examine it further. "Are you drunk?"

At that, Hermione snatched the paper from his hands, looked at the picture and shrieked. "Where did they get this?!" she asked, on the verge of hyperventilation.

"What is that in your hand?" He chuckled as picture Hermione leaned to the side tipsily and only remained standing due to Harry's hand on her arm. "You *are* drunk!"

Groaning, Hermione realized that no doubt the incriminating picture was the work of Fred or George because she could have sworn she had destroyed all the remaining copies. Only they would be daring enough to stow some away. "It's called a microphone. It's a muggle thing. See, you get up in front of the bar and sing a song of your choice--"

"Karaoke? You and the great Harry Potter got drunk and sang karaoke?" Jonathan's mouth dropped open for a moment.

"It wasn't just us..."

"Come on. Not that I'm passing judgment on you, but really. No, actually, I am passing judgment. I think it's disturbing and, quite frankly, terrifying. There are some things you just don't do."

"On that note, I'm going back upstairs to shower."

Quickly pouring herself another cup, she ignored Jonathan's chuckling until he called her back. "Wake up sleeping beauty while you're up there, will you? We need to get going."

After climbing the stairs, Hermione turned to the left towards the bedrooms feeling as though someone were watching her. Glancing around, she saw nothing but shadows and empty halls so she continued down the hallway, knocking softly on Draco's bedroom door. When he didn't answer, she pushed it open and slipped up next to the bed trying to discern exactly where he was in the tangle of bedding.

"Draco, wake up." She poked at the sheet tentatively, not wanting to prod anything that could get her in trouble. "Draco," she tried again, finding his shoulder and giving it a shake. "Jonathan says you need to get up now."

A low groan erupted from the mass of blankets and they moved, exposing his head. She stifled a giggle. His hair was messy and his eyes were blurry with sleep.

"No," he said simply and rolled over onto his stomach, burying himself in the blankets once again.

"Hmm. Fine then," she said, crossing to the door. "It's your cover being blown, not mine." He didn't answer. No doubt, he was already fast asleep and couldn't hear her.

But as she crossed to the door, she grinned as he let out an exasperated sigh and threw off the blankets. Pausing in the open doorway, she listened to the man behind her waking up. He made little sighs and moans as he stretched some wakefulness into his body.

And suddenly she felt his eyes on her, stalled in the doorway and, flushed, she hurried out shutting the door behind her.

* * * * *

If you would like an update on how the chapters are coming along, I suggest you go to my livejournal at http://www.livejournal.com/users/jadedfrenzy/