Sometimes the Dragon Wins

CHAPTER 8 - DRACO CREDERIS (In Draco We Believe)

He was actually going to tell her why they were here.

Hermione listened intently. Her wrists were chaffed. Couldn't they have made decent handcuffs?

She couldn't feel her hands. She moved her fingers a little to restore the blood flow and looked over at Draco again.

He was gazing at the window, probably staring at the stalactites that seemed to fascinate him so much.

Her nose itched. She wished she could scratch it.

"It's going to sound really stupid," he muttered. "Do you remember that book I read on the Dragon in the library?"

"The Dragon's Journey? That book? That fictional book? The one that isn't real?"

He nodded moodily. "Well, the Dragon in the book had to go to the city of the giants to fulfil his destiny."

She waited for more. It didn't seem that any other explanations were forthcoming. "Any other reasons we're here?"

"No. Well, we needed a place to hide," he said sullenly, as if he knew he was going to get bitch-slapped, and that he possibly deserved it.

"Draco, that was fiction. You do know that, don't you?" She managed not to sound angry yet. They were being held captive because Draco Malfoy had read fiction.

She took a deep calming breath.

Funny, the anger coursing through her veins made her fingers feel less numb. She estimated that she could at least manage to strangle him if she weren't tied to the wall.

"I know its fiction," he said irritably. "But we needed a place to hide, and I know where the city of the giants is, so I thought..."

His thought trailed off into murky chasms of uncertainty.

She hoped he couldn't hear her teeth grinding. He was expecting her to get angry and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Let me get this straight. You deny that you're the Dragon up to the point where you lead more than a hundred people into the Lost City of the Giants on the off-chance that a fictional book would be correct?"

"That's it in a nutshell; and I don't think I 'm the Dragon."

"That's really unbelievable Malfoy. You led us here and you don't even think you're the Dragon?"

"I have to find out," he mumbled. "I have to find out if I'm the Dragon."

She relaxed slightly. It felt rather good that he didn't seem to know what he was doing either.

"How did the Dragon in the book fulfil his destiny in the city of the giants?"

He finally looked over towards her. "He went to the centre of the city, where there was a big stone being guarded by the giants."

"And..."

"He defeated the giants and pulled a staff out of the stone. The staff that would make him rule the world. It's called the Staff of Ainesley. Apparently." He cringed. "I realise, that on hindsight, it might have been a bit impulsive."

Was that an apology? Hermione combed through the words thoughtfully.

No. It hadn't been an apology. But he'd almost managed to say that he'd been wrong.

She sagged against the wall. "It's okay Malfoy. At least you followed your heart."

"I thought I didn't have one."

"Oh yes. At least you followed your instincts."

"Well, my instincts are normally pretty damn good."

"Well, then you followed your... kidneys."

"Perhaps my liver?"

"No, I think I followed my liver," she joked. Her mouth still felt horrible. She was never getting drunk again.

He didn't laugh.

"The giants in the book were really primitive," he sighed. "They all wore leather jerkins. What's a leather jerkin?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you should know. You always know everything. And normally it's damn annoying, but right now I need to know what a leather jerkin is. You have to know your enemy, and I don't." He looked resentful. "This isn't one of my best moments."

God forbid. Draco Malfoy doubting himself? She'd thought she'd never see the day. It was actually rather irritating.

"Stop having such a defeatist attitude," she said spiritedly.

"I'm sorry Granger, its not like you're reinforcing my belief in myself."

"That's not my job Malfoy, it's yours. You've always managed to overdo the job on yourself. Maybe this stupid Staff of Ainesley exists. After all, the City of the Giants exists. Jack and his bloody beanstalk exist."

"Maybe," he said, as if he'd rather not think of it. "It would be all right if it doesn't. I don't want to be the Dragon. I have enough issues."

At that point the door swung open.

The giant who'd captured them stepped through. He looked less irritable. The dark circles under his eyes were less in evidence than it had been a few hours ago.

"I've had my coffee," he announced. "The world looks a lot better on the other side of caffeine, doesn't it?"

Hermione, whose parents subscribed to the thread of thinking that coffee stained the teeth, didn't know.

"My name is Alfonz," he said. "Alfonz Ribero of clan Ribero. What are your little maggoty names?"

"We're not maggots," Draco said tiredly. "We're human beings. Or at least I am. And my name's Draco. This is Mud... I mean Hermione."

"Draco?" the giant said thoughtfully. "That translates as Dragon in the old tongue."

"Don't remind me," Draco glowered at the giant.

Hermione decided to take the initiative, seeing that Draco wasn't being very cooperative.

"We'd really appreciate it if you'd free us," she said brightly. "We just want to get out of here and..."

She became increasingly aware that the hulking giant was smiling at her rather rakishly.

Alfonz let out a wolfish whistle between his teeth. He howled for extra effect. "Hermione?" he said, leering. "That's your name? Damn, if only you were a few acres taller. That can be arranged, of course. And then we can get down to some swe-e-e-e-et loving. What are you doing here, babeee?"

Draco grinned for the first time in three hours.

Typical that he would be amused that a thirty-foot leather clad lout was making an advance on her.

She wished she could cross her hands over her breasts. His eye-pupils were about the size of her breasts. It was decidedly uncomfortable.

Her initial perception that he was a lot like Draco Malfoy was vanishing. He was a lot like Draco without coffee, true, but she almost preferred his irritable swaggering to this invading, sexual animal-persona.

"We're here to find the Staff of Ainesley," she said primly. "I don't suppose it exists."

Alfonz winked. "It exists as surely as the chemistry between us exists, my lovely."

Did that mean it existed? Draco looked just as baffled.

"It exists," Alfonz said again.

Draco's mouth dropped. "What?"

Alfonz fixed a seductive gaze on Hermione again.

"Dumb, useless bit of wood planted into the stone. Nobody can get it out. I'll take you there if you want," he said. "It's really secluded. We can have some fun, but I'm only taking you Honeypie."

"That is not the point. He has to get the staff." She moved her head towards Draco.

"Sweetie, you weren't blessed with intellect, were you? I don't mind that; you're cute enough to make up for that, but only the Dragon can take that staff out of there."

And now he was insulting her intelligence. She was about to tell him off, but then she caught Draco's gaze.

'Play along,' he mouthed. 'Please.'

He looked so desperate and so sweet, begging her to help him. She'd always been a sucker for submissive men.

"He is the Dragon," she said, trying to smile thinly.

"And mad as well!" Alfonz let out a peal of rumbling laughter. "But you're still pretty. My darling, the Dragon is supposed to have ex-ray eyes that can cut through me..."

"Just give me time to get really angry," Draco grumbled.

"And he's supposed to make me quiver in my boots..."

"That can be arranged..." His muttering was making it hard to pay attention.

"And if he lifts his arm in anger we should all drop dead."

"You should be dead, dammit, I haven't bathed in days. My armpits are positively reeking."

"And he's supposed to have a mark of a Dragon on his shoulder," Alfonz concluded, as if this were really just a side-thought.

"Have a look," she said. "He does have the mark."

For the first time the giant listened. "He does?"

"Yep."

Alfonz swallowed. "Well, I'd rather be undressing you, Hermione, but I suppose I should take a look."

Draco cringed as large fingers fumbled at his shirt. "This is undignified," he growled.

The shirt was disposed of, and Alfonz and Hermione had the privilege to see the red marking on Draco's shoulder.

Her gaze didn't stay on his shoulder for long. It was a malignant red. It was in the shape of a Dragon. She didn't feel she could describe it much further. The rest of him though...Her eyes ran over the taut stomach and the muscled arms as if they were small mountains that had to be worshipped.

For a seventeen-year old boy, Draco Malfoy was...a god. It was her turn to swallow.

"How?" she asked softly.

"I don't know how the bloody mark got there," he said agitatedly.

If only she could forget his personality. This could be love.

He noticed the staring and, vaguely, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirking. "You're wondering how I got this body?" he said incredulously.

It sounded so stupid. But..

"Yes," she said.

"I work out Granger. Jog every morning. Play lots of quidditch. Eat lots of red meat. But I'm thinner now, because we had a vegetarian guest at the mansion in the holidays."

Thinner? Oh dear, he couldn't have been better looking than this.

Stop it! She screamed at herself.

She couldn't help it. It didn't help that he was chained to a wall. It made her feel so powerful. If only she could forget that she was also chained to the wall.

Just as well. It would have been very embarrassing if her hands had been free.

Alfonz's big, shrewd eyes were contemplating the situation.

"All right," he said. "You're the Dragon."

"Not necessarily," Draco said.

"We'll see in a few hours," Alfonz said. He was staring at Draco as if he were calculating his power. Hermione wished he would stare at her with as much as a semblance of respect.

"I'll let you free," he said. "And I'll give you your wand back. But I'm not going to help you. If you are the Dragon you will find the stone, battle the defenders and draw the staff of Ainesley. And then, if you've done that, I will help you. I will do more than help you."

"Why?" It was Hermione who asked the question.

Alfonz looked at Draco with something approaching reverence. "If he is the Dragon, he will save us and lead us. Otherwise, we will all die."

*****

"I will let you go now," Alfonz said.

Draco wasn't sure he wanted to be let loose. Who wanted to fight a lot of bloody giants for a piece of wood?

Potter, maybe. Not him.

Why had he come here?

It was ridiculous. All right, he could perhaps see the attraction in being a hero. It certainly sounded good in books. And Potter made it living proof that it was good being a hero. People adored him. Most of the women at Hogwarts would give their innocence to Potter in one fell swoop. He lived the good life.

That was Potter though.

So far, Draco hadn't been seeing any benefits to fame that were different to his own life. No money, no booze, no lustful women fawning over him...

He backtracked a little. No wait, Granger's eyes were still glued to his abdomen.

He had a knack of letting his stomach muscles ripple at will, and he clenched his ribs one more time to allow her lustful eyes to settle on him again.

Bloody hell. Not that he wanted Granger as his lustful, fawning woman. She was a pain. He didn't think she wanted it either. She kept shaking her head rather angrily and then, regardless of this, focused on his chest greedily.

He shifted, allowing his arm muscles to bulge, just to torture her. There were reasons for working out.

"Hermione," Alfonz cooed suddenly. "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

With that unbelievable unoriginal line he untied the shackles from their wrists.

Draco massaged his wrists immediately. "This feels so much better," he crooned.

"Hmm," she said grouchily, having forced her eyes away from Draco's chest.

Draco glanced up at the giant.

He was looking at Hermione with pure unadulterated lust. 'Sick arse,' Draco thought.

It wasn't that wrong to feel lustful about Granger - if you were human - except that she was a Mudblood and all. The Mudblood crucification- system was wearing a little thin on Draco after all the years, and he didn't really think that Muggle-born wizards were inferior to - say, Neville Longbottom. They were all inferior to Draco Malfoy, but that, he privately thought, was not because they were Muggles. It was just because he was so darn good.

Granger was all right looking, although she somehow managed to convey a bossiness that was unbecoming. She was just too haughty to drive him mad with lust. In contrast with the haughtiness, her lips were all pouty and curvy and intensely kissable, amongst other things. Her eyes also hinted at something more mischievous. But her nose. That god awful haughty nose.

He was probably imagining it - her nose was pretty normal - but over the years it had simply elevated itself above other noses.

Malfoy didn't like any noses that elevated themselves above his own.

Alfonz licked his lips and Hermione's nose, if possible, became even more self-righteously straight.

"Hermione, we shall see each other soon," Alfonz said, winking. Draco stared, transfixed, as an enormous finger zoomed past his nose towards Hermione. It teasingly pulled up her shirt slightly, exposing a pleasantly tanned stomach and a flat belly button for a moment.

Malfoy leered for all he was worth. He was definitely going to get her back for her intruding gazes on his stomach.

She wasn't noticing though. Her rage was all concentrated on the unlucky Alfonz.

"What are you doing?" she snarled. Alfonz withdrew his hand almost fearfully.

"He's just having his fun," Draco said casually.

She glared at Draco.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you with me when I get violated by men!"

"You lie. You'd probably want me to do all the violating," Draco said. This was voluntary suicide, but she looked so good when she was angry. The nose forgot to be haughty and it scrunched up - like it was doing now.

"You bastard!"

"Oh shut up Granger. Say goodbye to the big pervert. Let's just go and bloody be heroic."

*********

Something, Hermione felt, was missing. It was gnawing at her.

They were off to seize the Staff of Ainesley. Draco was probably going to battle giants. She was probably going to watch him battle giants. He would probably succeed. He was probably going to claim his destiny and all that.

So why were they both frowning dully and trudging along as if they were walking to a History of Magic class?

"I don't feel a spark," Draco announced. "I should feel a spark."

That was it. They were missing a spark.

"What spark?" Hermione asked, simply because she had been blessed with the gift of speech.

"A spark of excitement. A spark of daring! Of recklessness! Of passion!"

When he mentioned the p-word, she found herself glancing at his chest and attempting to pry off his clothes with her eyes. What a body.

She wrenched her gaze away guiltily.

He wasn't paying attention - he was brooding sulkily.

Since Alfonz had ripped off Draco's shirt she'd been unable to think of anything else in a coherent manner.

It was horrible.

Why did he have to be that good looking? She could control herself when he had his shirt back on but she would either faint or attack him if he dared show one inch of that taut, muscled stomach...

Whooo. She waved at her face a little. She felt rather hot. And flustered. Englishmen weren't supposed to look that sinful, were they?

The sad thing was that she really wanted to kiss him. Against all rational thoughts she wanted to. There were plausible reasons for her lust. First of all, he was gorgeous. And secondly...

Well, all right, his only redeeming quality was his look, but they were very redeeming indeed.

"Granger, I have an idea," he said abruptly.

"Well, spit it out," she said.

He stopped walking. "I've been thinking about it for a while. First I thought there was no way because of..."

"What?"

"That's not important right now," he said. "I've never told you how I get psyched up for quidditch, have I?"

"I don't believe we're in the habit of conversing like normal human beings, so no."

He looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I'm not promising anything Malfoy."

"Well, I normally..."

Her pulse was rushing. He was going to say sex, she knew it.

"I normally," this was very difficult for him.

She stared at him rather keenly, and then tried not to.

"I normally do three cartwheels," he said stoutly.

"What?"

"Yes, that's the only way I get very excited."

"You animal, you."

She felt rather disappointed. And then she suddenly felt rather amused.

Draco Malfoy got the adrenaline pumping for quidditch by doing cartwheels? She couldn't wait to tell the rest of the school. Most of the quidditch players had sex, according to Parvati, who had claimed to be Malfoy's good luck charm herself once or twice.

"So, I want to get psyched up for this thing I'm expected to do," he continued, rubbing his hands and looking around.

She couldn't resist. "Don't you have sex before a quidditch match? Everyone says you do."

He frowned. "No. That's not sensible. I'm not going to play quidditch if I'm all weak and spent, am I?"

"Maybe you should try it. It's not like you're winning matches."

Draco eyed her sourly. "What, does precious innocent Potter hump like a rabbit before every quidditch match?"

"He didn't when I was with him."

"Well, I can't imagine why. You'd definitely keep me awake."

He said it rather sarcastically, but she chose to hear the leering undertone.

She doused her grin with a façade of icy sobriety.

"Allright then," Malfoy said, rather unnecessarily. He rubbed his hands again and Hermione watched as he promptly did three rather un-Olympian cartwheels, towards her. He lengthened the last one, probably in an attempt to scare her, and his foot almost hit her nose. All he managed to do was get off balance. He fell against Hermione. The impact made her fall on top of him, although her fall had probably been slightly engineered.

She stared down at Malfoy, who was staring at her in surprise.

"Guess that didn't work, huh?" she said quite unsteadily. His eyes were rather mesmerising.

"I don't know," Draco breathed. "I feel quite excited. I don't know why."

Hermione grinned self-consciously and attempted to move off him.

"Urgh, you move like an elephant," he groaned. "Stop wriggling."

She scowled at him. "You don't want to do this Malfoy."

He looked her over slowly, appraising her hair and her eyes, frowning at her nose, and then swiftly moving his eyes down to her mouth, where they lingered for a while. His observation of her body was thankfully quick. His stainless steel gaze settled back to her eyes. "I rather think I do, Granger," he murmured.

"What if I don't?" Hermione said, unconvincingly.

"It's nothing emotional, Granger. It's not as if this is your first kiss. We're doing this just to get psyched up."

If only he'd been a decently plain man.

"All right," she agreed softly. She just wanted to feel his stomach. His fingers were suddenly on her back, lifting the sweatshirt slightly and running his cold fingers up her warm back very gently.

She shivered.
The other hand suddenly came into play. He pulled her head towards him rather roughly. He didn't have to; she still had a rather vivid mental image of the muscular cubes on his stomach.

The kiss wasn't a fairytale one. It was rather harsh and quick. Hermione winced as Malfoy munched at her lower lip as if it were a pastrami sandwich. She opened her mouth and immediately allowed space for his tongue, which was threatening to suck out her intestines. She was trying to lick his lungs and hoping that he would suffocate. And all the way her hands were rubbing up that abdomen, manhandling every muscle.

It seemed they were trying to give each other pain. She grazed his tongue with her teeth ever so slightly and felt him wince in return.

She pulled away slightly and nibbled up his jaw line until she came to his ear, which she knew was a particularly sensitive part of the skin. 'This is for every time you've called me a Mudblood,' she thought vengefully. She sunk her teeth into it.

"Aaaaaaaaah!" Draco screamed.

She let go after a while. He rubbed his ear. "Shit," he muttered. "Why did you go and do that? I'll have to put tissue oil on it now."

"I was just getting started," she snarled.

He smirked. "Oh, you want to hurt me? Kinky. But no thanks. You've done enough damage for the day, Granger."

"Do you feel psyched up yet?" she asked sarcastically.

"Definitely," he said sincerely. "I see you took the emotional baggage warning to heart. Nobody would hurt someone she likes that much."

"Love is pain Malfoy," Hermione said wisely. "But in your case, I was just hurting you because I want to give you hell."

He smiled faintly. "Same. Well, pleasant and sweet as that was, I have some fighting to do."

She moved off him easily and he got up.

"It's been interesting Granger, but I hope that never happens again."

He looked quite serious.

He held out a hand. "Enemies?"

She took it and shook it. "Enemies. Let's go and vaporise Giants."

******************************************************

It was eerily quiet in the draughty corridors.

Hermione was very aware of the fact that they were probably lost.

That wasn't the biggest problem though. Why had she bitten Draco Malfoy's ear? What had that been?

She felt mortified.

Her ears were a deep color of crimson.

His looked worse though, thanks to her teeth. She grinned inwardly.

"Do you think that there are a lot of giants?" she asked nervously.

Malfoy didn't even answer. He was still rubbing his ear and looking irritated.

"Did Alfonz happen to mention where this staff is while he was crooning into your ears?" Draco snapped.

"He didn't croon into my ears," she said coldly.

"He tried to. His bloody mouth is as big as your bloody head though. Which way should we take now?"

They'd arrived at yet another intersection. The one hallway was narrow, and gloomy and dark. The other was light and airy and inviting.

"That one," Hermione said, pointing left to the beautiful, ornately decorated airy corridor.

"No," Draco said. "We take that one." He pointed right. Hermione wrinkled her nose as she stared at the dark depths. It smelled of damp.

"Why?"

"Because it's logic. You don't hand adventurers the object of their conquest easily. You make it difficult for them. You make them walk through dark uncomfortable places. You hide the valuables in unthinkable areas."

"Read a lot of comic books, don't you?" she said sourly.

"No I don't."

"I don't want to go that way," she said irritably.

"Neither do I," he said darkly. "It reeks of destiny."

"It reeks of slightly stale bread," she said.

"I'm afraid that's what destiny smells like," he observed.

"You're good at this hero-thing, aren't you?"

That had to hurt.

He merely looked mildly insulted. "Come on Granger. You're supposed to be brave and courageous and noble and devoid of character and imagination."

"And I'm supposed to be stubborn," she added.

"Yes. That's your only good quality, but its not appropriate right now. I'm supposed to be the hero. I think I know in which direction my bloody destiny lies."

"Fine," she snapped. "Why did you even ask me then?"

"I asked you because you're intelligent," he said with alarming frankness.

"Why Malfoy, was that a compliment?"

"No, it was a fact."

They started walking down the corridor. Hermione wrinkled her nose. It wasn't a bad smell, it was just a smell that reminded her of visiting her great grandma. It was a musty, old smell - the smell of old lace - without the lavender scent.

Hermione noticed that her sneakers were leaving an Adidas-shoe pattern on the dust-covered floor, which was as depressingly black as the rest of the corridor. It really was as if whoever had built this corridor had gone out of their way to make it depressing and bleak. This dismal, gothic look had not been achieved naturally.

"Malfoy," she asked casually, "Are you in love with Pansy?"

"Don't go there," he grumbled. "Why?"

"I was just thinking about attraction," she said reflectively.

"Why, because of me?"

"No," she snapped. "Because of Alfonz. That was ridiculous. He's four times my size and yet he's attracted to me."

"Yes, that was ridiculous," Draco said sincerely. Ignoring her glower, he continued thoughtfully. "You're not really a very attractive person. Don't look at me like that. You're pretty enough for a Mudblood, but you're not attractive."

"I don't understand."

"Attractive means," Malfoy interjected reflectively, "That I want to touch that person. That I get driven mad with sexual desire when I see that person. That I want to rip that person's clothes off. That my heart actually feels alive when I kiss that person. It's something else Granger."

She listened silently.

"Attraction doesn't mean high cheekbones and a dental masterpiece of a smile to me. It's not an hourglass figure or a good butt, really. It's just something, some quirk or attribute that drives me to want that person with my body and my heartless heart." He smiled deprecatingly. "And you Granger, don't have that. You're too perfect."

She swallowed. "I'm not that perfect. You said so yourself."

He had a wry edge to his eyes. "Oh, I'll snog you and all those flawless girls at Hogwarts anytime Granger. Well, I must admit I never really wanted to snog you, but when in a desert, do not complain when you find a small oasis. But it's not really in my heart when I do it."

"Your heart is a morgue, Malfoy," she said, trying hard to keep the hurt out of her voice. A small oasis?

His lips curved into a positively evil smile. "Feel ugly and unwanted now, do you Granger? Because you are."

"Thank you Malfoy. That just enriched my life. My opinion of you is that you're a slimy bastard."

"Nothing's changed then," he said pleasantly. "I like these open conversations we have Granger. So honest."

"Yep." She sighed, feeling troubled. "I'm very honest, but you're not."

"I pride myself on honesty," he said mockingly.

"Well, your well-honed sense of honesty has let you down Malfoy."

He groaned. "You smarting because I don't find you attractive? You're just like Potter. You can't stand someone not admiring you. I tell you what. Just to soothe that inferiority complex, we'll kiss again. If you don't bite me, I'll try and gauge how attracted I am to you."

"That's not what I was going to say, Malfoy. I'm a better person than that. I'm not that superficial. Frankly, I won't care if I have a beard."

He smiled over at her, eyes crinkling in amusement. "You're rather sexy when you stand up for yourself," he said. "Come on Granger. Let's kiss each other properly one time and then the both of us can say that we've properly snogged every breathing thing at Hogwarts."

"No," she said coldly.

"Oh, you haven't done Crabbe and Goyle yet, have you?" he said. "It's not worth it, I assure you. They're terrible fags."

"Crabbe and Goyle are fags?" What a horrible mental image. She couldn't help letting her guard down and chuckling at the thought.

He smiled. "You have no idea." He moved towards her very suddenly, and for the first time in her life, she could see why some of the imbecilic females at Hogwarts actually dared to use the words "charming" and "Draco Malfoy" in the same sentence. His eyes were positively smoking, his lips were curving, and a stray dimple had the cheek to appear in his cheek.

"All right Malfoy, just this once," she murmured.

She moved over to him, very conscious of every awkward shuffle towards him. Her cheeks were blazing already. He was looking at her with some interest and some amusement, and there was no malice or cruelty in his gaze. It was rather frightening.

She felt like a nervous 14-year old about to receive her first kiss from the school hunk.

He lifted her chin with his finger.

"Now look at me Granger," he said softly.

He moved towards her carefully and pushed his face against her. Their noses collided. He grinned, and she took the time to see the shadows dancing under his eyelashes. He tilted his head slightly and his mouth met hers.

This time[,] there was no malice.

He kissed her carefully. She kissed him back, just as tentatively. She tightened her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to allow his tongue to enter.

Suddenly all the tentativeness was gone. Draco's hands slid down her back, as the kiss became deeper and wilder. She was very conscious that neither of them had brushed their teeth in the space of about two days, but even that was enticing. The taste was interesting. His tongue was rough and it moved around in her mouth as if he wanted to feel every one of her taste buds. She was pushing her own tongue to the floor of his mouth, pushing the little bumps under his tongue down.

He was pushing her towards him as if he couldn't get enough. It felt good. Had she ever kissed Harry with such passion? She ran her fingers through his hair.

They continued kissing. They were moving slightly - he was pushing too much. There was air on her back when she pulled her head away.

She looked up at him and grinned. "It seems you are attracted to me after all."

He didn't look embarrassed. "Maybe I was all along."

Before they could continue he looked over her shoulder. His eyes widened.

Hermione looked backwards.

They were standing at the entrance of an enormous room with a domed ceiling. Staring at them were six rather surprised giants. In the middle of them, strategically placed under the dome, was a large, bulbous rock. Protruding out of the rock was a rather unremarkable staff of wood. But Hermione could feel the power pulsing out of it even from where she stood. She was a witch, after all. She couldn't miss it.

Draco released her. "The Staff of Ainesley," he whispered.

********************************************************

Those eyes. They were so honest.

It didn't seem as if there were any lies of obscurities hidden in those marvelously innocent bright green eyes.

Pansy shivered, mostly out of bewilderment. Why did Harry Potter seem so attractive suddenly?

She allowed herself another long look at the eyes and then lowered her gaze.

"What happened Pansy?" Harry asked.

Damn him. She desperately wanted to be honest. She wanted to tell him about the City of Giants and the underground tunnel.

But she couldn't. She was a Slytherin, and Draco had sworn them all to silence about the hideout.

Slytherin's honour. That had gotten a few laughs.

Her heart wrenched at the thought of Draco. Had he ever looked at her with such open, bright green eyes?

Well, no, obviously not, his eyes were dark and gray, like thunderclouds obscuring the sun.

And Harry (she hesitated to use his name so informally, even in her thoughts) Harry's eyes were like the sun filtering through the trees.

Much as she wanted to trust him, there was the fact that he's come hurtling out of the sky from Hogwarts, which was Voldemort's current hotel.

The man really had to get his own place. He'd monopolised the Parkinson residence for a few weeks last year and as a result Pansy did not want to be a Death Eater anymore.

A life consisting of destruction, bad manners and truckloads of chicken seemed suddenly unappealing.

Harry was frowning, probably wondering why a simple question had sent her into silence..

She had to lie to him. She had to be devious. She did not want to live on chicken for the rest of her life.

"I don't know what happened," she said, not looking at him. Perhaps he would see the lie in her eyes. "We were walking along and suddenly I fell and when I came to, everyone had disappeared."

That was close enough to the truth anyway, as long as she didn't mention that aforementioned falling had happened underground.

"How could they leave you?" Harry asked, sounding angry.

She looked at him in bewilderment. How could he sound so concerned? He couldn't be real.

"I, uh, was angry at Draco and I walking behind a little, so they probably didn't see."

"Hmm," Harry mused. Pansy could practically see the thoughts filtering into his head slowly.

And he wasn't intelligent either! It was too good to be true!

She could twirl every little thought fiber in his head around her pinkie finger and he wouldn't even know. It was fantastic.

"Hmm," he said again. The thought was taking a long time to materialize.

"I don't see footprints leading further," he said.

Drat. He wasn't that stupid if he'd cottoned onto that.

She thought furiously.

It turned out that she didn't have to.

"Maybe they used magic," he said. "Maybe Draco has discovered how to apparate."

Draco did actually know how to apparate. But the rest of them didn't, as far as she knew.

She had to encourage that line of thought though.

"Maybe they used a portkey," she offered, thinking quickly.

Harry brightened. "That could be it."

Thank god for small minds.

"You don't have any idea where they went?" he inquired.

Time for a big lie. "I think I heard Draco say something about erm..."

Now what would sound logical? Where would Draco have led them to hide except for this stupid place?

His house, maybe? She dismissed that immediately. That would mean that Narcissa Malfoy would see them coming, and Draco did not have a good relationship with his mother.

The Malfoys had a holiday home though. It was a grand, unplottable estate near Brighton Beach. She'd been there once with her father, who'd deemed it an architectural masterpiece.

And she wouldn't mind going there again in spite of that.

"Erm... he mentioned Brighton," she said deviously.

"Why would he want to go to Brighton?"

"I have no idea... Oh wait! They have a holiday home there," she said slowly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

"Will there be Death Eaters there?" Harry asked.

"Nope." At least, she hoped not. The last time she'd been there, there had only been a few house elves.

"Do you know where it is?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

Ha! A lonely beach manor with a few house elves and a Harry Potter who was becoming rapidly attractive to her. Vacation was coming early this year.

"Well then, let's go and find them," Harry said.

She didn't need a second invitation.

"You're okay with flying on a broomstick, aren't you?"

Dolt. Of course she was. She was a Chaser for the Slytherin quidditch team, in case he hadn't noticed.

And in spite of that, when she was sitting behind him on that gleaming broomstick with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, she felt an absolute thrill when the broom rocketed into the air.

He did know how to fly, there was no denying it. She would never get her own Nimbus to move so easily and so fluidly and at such a pace.

They hovered in the air for a few seconds. Pansy surveyed the landscape. The solitary cow was a speck on the ground.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"Of course," she said. And she meant it.

She let out a shriek of pleasure as they shot forward. Everything was a blur. She fought hard against the impulse to throw her hands into the air and yell "I'm the queen of the world!" at the top of her lungs.

Silly notion. Why would she do that? She would fall to her death if she did that.

She could shriek though, or scream, or hold her breath when they hurtled through wet clouds.

And she did. She did.

Harry chuckled in delight in front of her.

This was better than chocolate.

[***I had to fight very hard not to let Harry start singing "I can show you the world" a la Aladdin. That would have been a bit too much. Would have been funny though.***]

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It seemed the giants were just as surprised as he was. He could take advantage of that. But how?

"How do I fight them?" Draco whispered urgently.

Hermione sounded as if she had several large bullfrogs in her throat.

"I don't know," she croaked.

"Well, you'll have to distract them. I have to think."

"What, should I strip?" she snapped.

"That'll work," he said vaguely, desperately wondering what to do.

Oh. She was still glaring at him.

"Do something Granger," he said irritably.

"Not unless you ask nicely." Her eyes were narrowed. Her arms were crossed. One renegade foot was tapping angrily. She was a girl on the edge. He had no choice, it seemed.

He tried to sound nice. Oh, how he hated the n-word. Nice. Blergh.

"Please Granger," he said, allowing the desperation he was feeling to blend in with the niceness. It was a perfect mix.

She let her arms sag. The foot stopped its agitated tap-dance. "Okay," she said softly. "But you owe me. Big time."

It was not a moment too soon. The collective surprise that had prevented the giants from stepping on them immediately was diminishing.

Draco left it to Hermione. She would surprise them. She was good at that.

He continued thinking. Magic was out. Even the killing curse only gave giants pins and needles, Voldemort had said that in an attempt to further the pointless and polite conversation at the dinner table with useless bits of information. It wasn't as if he could attack them either. They had the advantage of being giants. Outwitting them was the only way. He'd have to use his brain.

Dimly he heard Hermione call out, "Oh bo-o-oys! Take a look down here, won't you?"

Aha! He had a plan! It was neither infallible, nor brilliant, and it fell short of being foolproof. In fact, it wasn't even good.

But it was all he had.

He looked up. And his mouth fell open.

Hermione Granger, the all-brain-no-wits-Mudblood had removed her sweatshirt and was stripping. Said sweatshirt was being twirled around in her hands artfully.

She nimbly shimmied over to the Staff of Ainesley and threw the sweatshirt around it in abandon.

And then she proceeded to gyrate around the staff sexily.

That stomach.

Those lines on that stomach.

Those breasts in that demure cotton bra.

The way she was moving made him feel dizzy, but in a good way.

He tore his eyes away for a few seconds to gauge the giants' reaction.

The first five were great. They were practically drooling as they watched the tiny, beautiful stripper.

The sixth giant was frowning. Perhaps this was a giant with morals who did not approve of strip-shows. Or it might have been because she was a woman, who obviously had no lesbian tendencies in spite of the butch leather outfit.

The plan. The plan. What was the plan again?

Hermione was wiggling her butt and kicking off her shoes.

He just couldn't remember.

Oh well. He ripped off his shirt hurriedly. There was only on thing to do.

The giantess looked at him in some interest.

He'd have to spark.

He took a breath and cartwheeled over to the Staff of Ainesley.

"Ooh," the giantess crooned.

He grabbed the staff and grinned at Hermione, who winked at him.

Damn woman. All right, she was definitely attractive. And he was definitely attracted to her.

He turned around and wiggled his ass.

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"I had no idea stripping was so tiring," Draco panted fifteen minutes later.

They were both prolonging the inevitable - the removal of their pants - by performing alarming acrobatic maneuvers.

There'd been the part where he'd flipped her into the air. And the part where he'd slid around the pole like a mad monkey on drugs. And the part where she'd danced on his shoulders. And the part where he'd performed a stunning series of back flips.

But he was running out of ideas now.

He looked at Hermione helplessly, thrusting his pelvis tiredly.

The giants were sitting around them, clapping and whistling. One of them had produced a flask and was getting rather tipsy.

Hermione pulled herself towards the staff in a very sexual manner.

"Read the plaque," she hissed.

He stared at her cleavage. When she'd jerked like that it..."

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"Read the plaque under your feet," she hissed.

He looked down. Sure enough, there was a bronze plaque under his feet.

"But read it sexily," she hissed again.

All right. He dived between her legs and performed a few sexy push-ups whilst he read.

'Herein lies the power that shall cause the nations' division. Animals, humans, dwarves and giants wilst bow to the wielder of the Staff of Ainesley. Its noble proprietor shalt be named the Dragon, for he shalt be more feared than any other. Only the marked one shalt be able to free the staff. And when he does, the earth shall tremble mightily.'

Draco frowned. Did these things always have to sound so melodramatic?

And would giants really bow to the wielder of the staff?

Well, it seemed as if his destiny was the only solution to the problem.

He wiggled out under Hermione's legs.

"I'm going to do a little pole dance," he murmured to her. "Hold their attention:

He lightly took hold of the staff as she shimmied around him.

Bloody hell. She was unbuttoning her jeans slowly.

He shook his head and focused on the staff. He tightened his grip.

This was it. This was the moment of truth. The moment he'd rather have prolonged.

His legs were trembling. So were his arms.

Dammit.

He pulled... and felt the staff coming out of the ground slowly.

Oh no.

He pulled some more and it slid out of the rock completely.

Oh no.

The ground shook. Hermione left the last button and turned to stare at him. The giants' eyes were even more saucer-like than usual. The power in the piece of wood quaked through him.

Oh no.

He hoisted it up into the air and the world went dark. The staff flared. Green light shone around him. He shuddered. He wanted to cry out at the atomic waves of magic racking his body. He'd never thought such pain, or such power existed.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

And suddenly it all stopped. Light returned to the great room.

Draco's body stopped shaking. He felt nauseous.

He reluctantly looked around.

The six giants were all kneeling, prostate on the floor.

Hermione was as pale as his white satin hankies were.

Then the giantess spoke whilst still on her knees. "All hail the Dragon."

The other giants didn't hesitate to take up the chant. "All hail the Dragon," they rumbled. "All hail the Dragon."

Draco looked at Hermione pleadingly.

She swallowed. "All hail the Dragon," she whispered.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh bloody bloody no.

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