Dance with the One that Brought You

Chapter 11: Riddles



No one could strut like Draco Malfoy. He had made it an art form. His arms swayed as his shoulders slowly moved to and fro, and his chin was hiked up a few inches. When that was combined with his trademark Malfoy pompous grin and silvery-grey, hooded eyes, he could part the waves of students in a hallway the way the Muggle Moses parted the sea. It wasn’t just that he looked like the very essence of scintillating seduction, he knew he looked like sex on legs. And that’s what probably kept the future Old Matrons Club, led by none other than Hermione Granger, at bay. That had to be the reason she was avoiding him. Odd though---he had noticed he wasn’t the only male in Hogwarts that wasn’t graced with Her Ladyship’s presence. Krum, Potter, and Weasley all seemed to be short one Gryffindor as well. No matter, he would be seeing her soon enough, and he couldn’t help but smile as he mentally reviewed his plans for the unsuspecting Muggle-born.

A group of giggling Slytherin third-year girls whispered and wiggled their fingers in waves as he passed them. “Good Morning, Draco!” They were nearly singing his name! He merely nodded in their direction, and they spontaneously combusted into a fit of more giggles.

It had to be the new rumors set afire by the lads of Slytherin, he reflected as he walked down the hallway, suddenly bored with the continued whispers and stares, and the gaggle of giggling girls. Melanie Payne usually was quick about her conquests, but it seemed that she had decided to deflower Draco one petal at a time. “Obviously the girl has great taste, going for quality above quantity,” he mused.

His lower abdomen warmed at memory of her languishing slow kisses. She had told him that he was possibly the best kisser she had come across in her seven years at Hogwarts. He unconsciously puffed his chest out just a bit further, rolling his shoulders back. What he liked most about Melanie was her creativity. She always came prepared with visual aids during her lessons. When she first heaved a huge carpetbag onto the table he thought of Granger for a moment, with her stack of endless books that she lugged around in her messenger’s bag. But then when Melanie started to hum as she pulled out a long phoenix feather and satin ties, all thoughts of the saintly know-it-all dissipated like the pop after an apparition. Thank the powers that be for the Head Girl’s private quarters!

It wasn’t the first time his father had been wrong. If Lucius Malfoy had gotten his way, Draco would have been attending the all-boys school at Durmstrang! Luckily Draco’s mother had won that argument, and now Draco was basking in the glorious aftermath of the best decision his family had ever made for him! It was great being Draco Malfoy!

“Oi! Pale One!”

Draco paused to let his best friend catch up to him. The girls around him seemed utterly disappointed that his morning catwalk strut had been interrupted. They soon were rewarded when the tall, dark Italian joined the milky, flaxen-haired Seeker, and both sauntered off, deep in conversation. In addition to a certain emerald-eyed, raven-haired Gryffindor resident hero, Blaise and Draco were the girls favorite eye candy. The Slytherins beat Potter overall in the fantasy Dream Boy list because they had the added allure of being naughty. Everyone knew that girls didn’t melt like butter in the hands of the good boys---it was the naughty ones they all wanted. Almost all. Draco couldn’t help but recall the nagging reminder of one particular girl that was not affected. But that would soon change!

“So, what news? Any luck?” Draco asked.

“I’m lucky to be alive!”

“Now, now. It couldn’t have been that bad! Krum doesn’t seem that dark!”

Blaise was ready to clobber his friend over his fair head. “That’s because it wasn’t your arse on the line! The bleeding ape thought I was volunteering my closet to house his broomstick, you great peacock!”

Draco guffawed at the revelation, and put his arm around Blaise.

“All for the cause, boy-o. All for the cause.”

Blaise shrugged Draco’s arm off of him and pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket, stuffing it into Draco’s robe. “It’s his razor. It still has bits of whiskers and even a few drops of blood this morning. He tossed it away and got a new razor out.” He paused and then added, “You know, he appeared overly perturbed today. I don’t think your Miss Granger has been very forthcoming to our Durmstrang guest. He seemed a bit... bothered.”

“She’s not mine.” Not yet. “This could work in our favor,” Draco slowly deduced.

“Since this is the last ingredient needed, we should be ready to go tonight. What about Granger. What’s the plan on getting her to meet him?”

Draco had the habit of rubbing his chin as he thought. He needed this to be flawless. One slip and it wouldn’t work; they would be found out.

“Right.“ He went into leadership mode. “The healing potion is ready. I purchased a special bottle for it. We need to keep Krum busy so he doesn’t go and hunt Granger down.”

Blaise conspired with his friend. “Pansy?”

“Right track, wrong pony ,“ Draco explained. “If Krum is as... bothered... as you say, I think the poor lad needs a bit of comfort. And there is only one girl I know of that can handle the likes of him. She carries a big bag of tricks with her.”

“What if he doesn’t go for her?”

“Blaise, Blaise, Blaise...” Draco shook his head in disappointment. “You obviously haven’t had the pleasure of being introduced to Miss Melanie’s ...assets. If you had, you wouldn’t ask that question.”

The boasting put off his friend. “Yeah, well, that’s because I’ve been busy dodging massive Bulgarian threats to my person! In the meantime, you have been playing parlor boy to the Virgin Fairy! She’ll tire of you soon enough.”

“Jealous, are we?” Draco drawled.

“Bite me!” Blaise responded with a scowl.

“I would, but you might like it ... and I’m straight as a board, mate.”

“Just remember, Draco,” Blaise countered, “the higher you are, the greater the fall!”

Draco fast-forwarded the remainder of his plan in his mind. Thinking of a pristine priss high on her pedestal, he responded, “That’s what I’m counting on!”

0----0----0----0

Hermione hadn’t brought any books with her. She had plans to relax. While most of the students were at Hogsmeade, she would spend the day at her leisure. If only the gnawing sensation would let her be. She hadn’t slept well for two nights---not since Harry had kissed her. She had managed to avoid him the next morning, and for the greater part of the following day. Unfortunately, he had cornered her last night and asked her to meet him at the lake so they could gather the last ingredient they needed for their potion.

She looked out over the lake, remembering the awkward silence that had ensued between them as he came and sat next to her in the common room. For one of the few times in her life, Hermione was speechless. She wasn’t sure what she should say to the boy whom she had always considered to be her favorite person in the entire world. He was only a boy, after all; yet he carried the weight of the wizarding and Muggle worlds on his shoulders. No one allowed him to forget who he was. No one let him forget he was the “Boy Who did this and that.” Just let him be “a boy.” Full stop. Her heart ached for him. She knew he regretted kissing her. He had probably done it on some crazy impulse. But now, knowing noble Harry, he would try and follow through and make it right.

That was one thing she couldn’t accept. She couldn’t accept a pity date. She didn’t want Harry to feel obligated to try and pretend he wanted more from her than just a trial kiss between friends. She would set him straight today.

“Which do you prefer?” he asked.

She jumped at the voice as he came up behind her. She quickly turned to face the lanky teen. His hair had grown unusually long this year, she noticed, as it blew around his face in the high noon breeze. He held out a long, slender, black velvet cloth in one hand and his black Gryffindor robe emblazoned with the lion’s crest in the other.

She quirked her head to the side, noticing that he leaned on his broomstick in an appealing kind of way. Harry Potter was a handsome boy! She had always thought he looked striking in his Quidditch robes and uniform. She especially liked his leather gloves, for some odd reason. Today he had on a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt ,and a dark grey hoodie. Yet he looked... magically delicious. Her face turned scarlet, and she quickly looked down at her feet.

“Mione?” he asked softly

“What are those for?” She gestured with her hand, not mustering the courage to look up yet.

“What were you thinking about right now?” He edged toward her.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Mione,” he said a bit more seriously. “What were you thinking about? Just before you looked away?”

“Cereal,” Hermione deadpanned.

He edged closer, until he was inches away from her. She had to look up to him to meet his eyes and wondered when he had gotten so tall. Harry didn’t say a word. He merely looked deep into her eyes, as if he wanted to perform Legilimancy on her. He didn’t move to touch her; he just swam luxuriously in slow motion, bathing in the dark chocolate pools of her eyes.

“Right.” He swallowed deeply and then said softly, “We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, Miss Granger. Which do you prefer?”

Hermione had no idea what he was talking about, but she couldn’t breathe with him standing so near. She was becoming lightheaded.

“What?” was all she managed to ask.

He held up the robe first. “You can wear my robe, pull it over your head, and hold me from behind or” ---he held up the black velvet strip--- “I can blindfold you and place you on my lap.”

She felt her chest rise and fall quickly. Dear Merlin, she was going to hyperventilate! Please don’t faint! Please don’t faint!

“Or, “ Harry leaned in closer now and whispered in her ear, "you can take it like the Gryffindor you are and keep your eyes open the entire time.”

Sweet. Holy. Mother. of. Merlin!

Say something Hermione! But all she could manage was to make some sort of puffing noise. “Wha... Wha....Wh...”

Who in the name of Mordred’s Ghost was this new bold and brazen boy in front of her? And what had he done with her shy, kind, and sometimes annoying friend.

“Harry?” It was almost a plea.

“My guess is the blindfold,” he said silkily, “because I have my knapsack to carry on my back with our lunches and a few tools of the trade.”

She shook her head as if to clear out the cobwebs. Why was throat so dry?

“What?” she finally questioned.

He held out his Firebolt horizontally and bowed. “Your air carriage, madam.”

He circled behind her and reached under her hair to the nape of her neck; after lightly stroking it, he began gathering her mass of curls by combing his fingers through it, and holding it in a loose ponytail.

“This could be hazardous.” He lowered his mouth to her earlobe. “Let’s keep it tied back so I don’t get blinded, shall we?”

He then held out his free hand to her, silently requesting a hair tie. Something was wrong with her central nervous system. It had worked fine this morning. But for some reason, her brain was unable to communicate what she wanted to her limbs and the rest of her body. All she had to do was reach down into her pocket and grab the hair rubber. It wasn’t that big of a task. But with her hair pulled up, she could feel his hot breath on the nape of her neck every time he exhaled. She leaned back on to his chest to keep upright. He was content to let her lean into him for stability.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she mutely handed him the hair tie and he wrestled the mass into a ponytail. “It’s probably not the most fashionable,” he said as he struggled to pull in the last of the curls, “but it’s the best I can do. Honestly, I don’t know how you keep your head up with all that hair, Hermione!”

She recognized that teasing. That was her friend Harry! He was back!

Quickly, before she lost the courage, she spun around to face him.

“What’s with the robe and the blindfold?”

He shrugged matter-of-factly. “You’re afraid of flying.”

“So?” She was feeling more and more like herself now. Her mouth worked again!

“So, I’ll just blindfold you, and you won’t have to watch as we fly over the lake.”

She mulled it over. True enough, she did hate flying. But which was worse? Flying in darkness, not having any idea where she was going, having to completely trust Harry to get them safely to the other side of the lake, or seeing every inch of space that came between them and the lake, watching as they hurled through the sky, seeing the space quickly evaporate before she plunged to her death. She swallowed.

She hiked her chin up and stuffed her hands in her jean pockets. “I’ll take it like a Gryffindor!” She repeated his words.

Instead of feeling like the victor though, she wavered after seeing him give her a lopsided grin.

“Bravo.” He hitched an eyebrow up. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Something was indeed different about Harry since they had kissed. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt that some of his softness was gone, and replaced by something more feral. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re able to battle dragons.

Harry tucked the blindfold and robe into his knapsack and placed the sack on his back. He lowered the broom between his legs and then cocked his head toward her, motioning her to him. As she warily approached, he held out his right arm, gripping the broom with his left.

“Come stand against this leg.” He tapped his right thigh.

She did as he requested and he pulled her up against him as he raised the broom under her bum. She was side saddling the broom as they slowly lifted off the ground. She automatically placed one hand under his left arm, hugging his waist.

He pulled her flush up against him, leaning into her.

“I’ll take it nice and slow Mione... I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

She ribbed him with her free elbow and he chuckled. As they ascended, he couldn’t help but feel the blood race through his veins. He was born to fly. It took every inch of willpower not to spiral into the sky, leaning full-throttle forward into the wind, and then dive down recklessly toward the lake and pull up within moments before reaching its glassy surface. He couldn’t help the feeling that urged him with the need for speed, but he squelched it with all the self-control he could muster. He had precious cargo onboard, and he wouldn’t endanger her. As much Harry loved flying, Hermione loathed it. He knew she was afraid of heights, so he kept their flight patterns low, and close to the lake. He flew slowly, easily, so that he could actually see where he was going without goggles on.

She let out a mewling sound and buried her head into his chest, creeping her free arm up his chest and around his neck.

“I’ve got you Hermione. I won’t let go.”

0----0----0----0

Draco lithely jumped down from the tree branch on which he was perched. So Potter actually had the bollocks to do something about his long-time infatuation with the Mudblood. He must think quite a bit of himself to risk the wrath of an angry Bulgarian. Then again, after showing off in front of all of Hogwarts with the Hungarian Horntail, perhaps the famous Seeker from Durmstrang wasn’t a threat in his eyes. If only he hadn’t had to witness that revolting display of hormones by those two Gryffindorks!

When he had overheard the littlest of Weasleys talking to Granger in the hallway, he thought she was meeting Krum, not Potter. He was hoping to get on the same page with Krum, so he didn’t botch things up tonight. Now he would just have to improvise.

As he marched back to the castle, he wondered how he could possibly let this little tidbit slip in front of the Bulgarian. Surely Krum would put a final end to the Boy Who Wouldn’t Die!

And what about Granger? Granger was a tease. He was certain of that now. She may not have knowingly been aware of her attraction to Potty, but it was there! She nearly popped on the spot when he whispered in her ear. He was positively annoying! He deserved every minute of pain that the blasted Triwizard Tourney gave him!

The best thing that could happen to Hogwarts would be to separate the Brain from the Scar.

0----0----0----0

Harry circled the broom slowly over the shore. He loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to point down with his finger. She nodded, and he eased the Firebolt into a slow descent. He was glad the ride had taken longer than it would have if he had flown at his own speed because he was able to enjoy having Hermione pressed up against him. Although he was certain there would be finger imprints on his shoulder and waist, he relished the feeling of being in complete control of her. Something about having her cling to him made him feel more important than before.

“So are you ready to join the Quidditch team now?” he jested.

“Funny, Harry. How very glib of you!”

“Come on, Hermione, that wasn’t all bad, was it?” He eased next to her.

Hermione wasn’t sure when she had become so indecisive. Hadn’t she made up her mind earlier this morning, that she was to set Harry straight and explain to him that he didn’t have to pretend with her? But when he showed up, so cavalier, all the planning and logic flew right out of her head.

“Hermione, we need to head through those trees. I spoke with Firenze about a week ago, and he said we will need our wands at the ready in order to enter.”

“He didn’t tell you anything more helpful than that?”

“He’s not supposed to give away the secrets of the forest. The other centaurs would exile him if they knew he even met with me.”

The interior of the forest was much different from the lake shore. It was not only darker, but it was much more dense. The foliage crept up trees and spread across the ground. Vines hung low from dead limbs, and Hermione could have sworn she saw things moving under the shadows of fallen logs.

The temperature had also notably dropped by several degrees and Hermione absentmindedly ran her hands up and down her arms. Harry turned to her; noticing her chills, he stopped and withdrew the Gryffindor robe from his knapsack.

He swung it around her shoulders and began to fasten it from the top. She silently watched him as his eyes moved from the robe up to her mouth. He noticed how naturally full her lips were as he moved his eyes up to the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t see your freckles.”

What an odd thing for him to say, she thought. Harry was silently observing her facial features. Green eyes met her amber ones as he bunched the lapels of the robe into his hands and pulled her up against him. She knew she had to be the one to put this to rights. If she didn’t stop it, they would bend the rules of friendship beyond the point of no return.

She put her hands on his chest; feeling his hold tighten, she tried to push away from him.

“Harry, we can’t.”

“Why can’t we, Hermione?” He hadn’t let go of the robe.

“Because I’m with Viktor. Because you’re my best friend. Because you don’t really want this.”

“Don’t presume that you know what I do and don’t want.” His eyes had turned a much darker shade of green---hunter green

She tugged on his wrists, until he released her and walked toward the direction Harry had previously indicated.

“It’s better if we just forget that kiss, Harry.”

He felt the calm slipping away. This wasn’t how he had worked things out in his mind. This wasn’t what he and Sirius had discussed. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react.

He watched the back of her march ahead of him before picking up the broomstick and following her. He would just need to try another tactic. He had gone over several of them with his godfather. He needed to let her know how he felt about her and not just with words. She needed to feel what he wanted.

Just as they neared a clearing, he heard a dreadful gasp come from Hermione.

In a second he was in front of her, pushing her behind him.

There in front of him paced an adult full-sized sphinx. It wasn’t as large as a dragon, but it was larger than a Hippogriff. It had the body of an oversized lion and the dark-bearded head of a man. Neither Hermione nor Harry had ever set eyes on such a magical beast before.

Harry had instinctually withdrawn his wand and extended an arm out in front of Hermione, as if to ward the creature away from her.

The sphinx merely paced predatorily in front of the pair. It was the first to speak. “You have no business on this end of the forest young wizard. You may not enter. You must leave now.”

Hermione immediately took in the size of its giant paws, with claws that had extended out now as it paced. One swipe of a claw, and they’d both be Sphinx food.

“We can’t leave,” Harry answered. “We must enter the colony.”

“I cannot allow that,” growled the Sphinx. “Not unless each of you can answer a riddle.”

“Hermione,” Harry spoke to her over his shoulder, “take the Firebolt and leave now.”

She shook her head frantically. “No, Harry. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Hermione!” Harry clenched his teeth together. “Take. the. Firebolt. Now.”

“Both of you answer a riddle or leave together!” threatened the sphinx. With incredible speed it pounced forward, directly at them, making its point clear.

“The female first.” He paused in front of Hermione, observing her obvious state of trepidation. “You are allowed to make a final statement, Witch. You must choose the method of your death: If the statement is true, you will be killed by my claws. If the statement is false then you will be killed by my teeth. Make your statement.”

Hermione looked nervously at Harry. Her brain raced for a response but saw his wand still extended. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I will be killed by your teeth."

Harry shook his head in warning, but the sphinx merely nodded at his prey. “Clever witch. You may pass.”

Harry was confused and looked at her questioningly. She didn’t have to explain; the sphinx did so for her. “If this statement was true, she would have been clawed and thus not be killed by my teeth. But then her statement would be false, which implies that she should be killed by my teeth, making the statement true again. In other words: She cannot be killed at all and will be released.”

The Sphinx continued its pacing, looking at Harry now.

“Silent Unseen, small cousin of death
Born this instant, closer than breath
Killer of thoughts, assassin of dreams
I am the end of all of your schemes
What am I?”**

Harry looked quickly at Hermione. But before she could help him, the Sphinx roared at him. “You must answer on your own!”

After several panicked seconds, Harry knew what he must do.

Hermione screamed as Harry pushed her to the side. Tumbling on top of her, he rolled her quickly several feet away, barely missing a rake of the sphinx’s immense claw.

Harry had tried to cast the Immobulus spell on the sphinx, but it bounced past the creature and into an already immobile tree. Once again the half-lion beast pounced, this time angry, and with a mighty roar it attacked.

Harry shielded Hermione with his body. But he did not move swiflty enough as the claws slashed open his back as it swiped downward.

Harry let out an ear-piercing cry of pain and Hermione instinctively grabbed at her wand and pushed Harry off of her to the side as she pointed the wand directly at the beast. She yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” just as the creature was about to rake its claw across them again.

The magical beast froze into a pose not unlike the embroidered lion crest on her Gryffindor robe. She was panting, not realizing that her eyes were now filled with tears. She had never imagined that the guardian of the faerie colony would ever be so brutal.

She threw herself down next to her best friend and hiccupped a sob away when she saw his back, an open wound freely spilling his blood down onto the forest floor.

“Harry, we must get you to Madame Pomfrey immediately!” She tried to ease him up into a sitting position. “Can you walk?”

Harry was near shock; no longer feeling the painful gashes in his back, he nodded to Hermione as he allowed her to help him up into a semi-standing position. “I can... walk.” He gritted through his teeth. “But I can’t fly.”

She let loose a racked sob and tried to breathe in deeply to control her frustration.

“Harry, you must! You must get us back to the castle.”

He shook his head and was bent over, trying not to stretch out to his full height, which would open the wound even more. He stumbled forward into the clearing and got as far as the petrified sphinx before he fell back onto his knees.

“Harry!” She was by his side trying to help him up.

“Mione... get me past this clearing. Please.” He leaned on her shoulder for support. “Just get me to the Nirvae, and I’ll be fine.”

“Of course!” She rebuked herself for not thinking of it first.

She wiped her nose against her sleeve, she took his arm, draped it across her shoulder, and helped him back on his feet.

All they had to do was get across the clearing.

A/N: **The riddle from the Sphinx came from the book, “The Iron Dragon’s Daughter” by Michael Swanwick. :-)