Perfection

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."

~Fredrich Nietzsche

Perfection

Chapter 13: Passion

"Mum, stop fussing, I know my way around the house! I've only lived there my entire life!"

"Now, be careful with the floo powder, dear, and don't break anything..."

"Mum!" Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes. "It's fine! I can look after myself!"

"And bring me back some hyacinths from the garden, this house could do with some colour..."

No kidding, Ginny though, glancing around the dim sitting room while replying, "Yes, Mum, I think that I can manage that..."

"Are you sure that you don't want Ron or Harry to--"

"No!" She practically shrieked the word. It would ruin everything.

"BLOOD TRAITORS!" the portrait chose that moment to shriek.

"Shut up!" they both bellowed back over their shoulders, almost carelessly.

"Mum, can I please just go?" Ginny begged, inching towards the fireplace.

"Yes, just a minute... Say good-bye to your father..."

"He's at work... You know, the place where he goes everyday to make money..." she reminded Molly.

"But it's a Sat... yes, of course he is. Never mind that, then, and have a lovely day."

Her mother finally held out the Floo Powder, and Ginny took a fistful, then tossed it into the flames, stepping in.

*

Agrippa sat in the café where she had met her daughter for lunch just a few days before, quietly sipping a cup of coffee and eating her customary lunch. There had been a change in Hermione since the last time she had seen her. Thinking back, Agrippa couldn't remember the last time that her daughter had really smiled.

The other day not only had she laughed, but seemed to sparkle, as if another person was shining through. Surprisingly, this thought worried her. She knew nothing about Hermione. Her dreams, her fears, her accomplishments, her downfalls. Agrippa shared in none of it.

The sound of a familiar voice ringing out across the room made her freeze before she could dwell on this any longer. For a moment, she couldn't place it. It had been over five months. But when she twisted in her seat to look, there could be no mistake.

Steve.

She only took a brief glance, long enough to ascertain that the younger brunette who had also entered was indeed with him. Trying to ignore his presence, she turned back to her meal, but it was impossible. When they sat at a table just within her field of view, it was all she could do not to stare. She forced herself to finish the soup, then stood to pay, making sure that she passed close to that table as she went. She wasn't sure why, but for some reason or the other she wanted him to recognize her.

As she strode by, he flicked a disinterested glance up at her, shortly followed by another, more startled one. She kept her expression cool and empty, even though inside she was trembling, feeling a flash of triumph at the shade of red his face turned. It was more than she had hoped for.

When she slumped into the driver's seat of her car, not wanting to put the key in the ignition and have to concentrate on driving, she felt something like relief wash over her. There had been no pain at the sight of him, no flash of longing for what had been. Only a brief flash of horror. She was free.

Straightening, she smiled to herself. A little gift to herself was in order. She was, after all, no longer painfully needy. That deserved something, didn't it? Perhaps a new wardrobe...

In a surge of energy, she started up the car and sped off down the road well over the speed limit. Once work was over, she would treat herself. Maybe even skip out early.

*

"How can you not be packed?"

Severus stood over the almost-empty suitcase, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"I don't know what to bring," Hermione moaned, tossing in a pair of jeans. "Is it formal?"

He heaved a sigh. "You couldn't have thought of this sooner?"

"I'm sorry... But it just occurred to me..."

"Bring regular robes and a dress robe. Do you have a dress robe?"

"None that fit... I have a dress at home that might work, I wore it over Christmas. Do you think that Mum would have time to send it to me?"

He massaged his temples and sank down onto a bed. "She could send it to you in Leipzig, but do you really want to be wearing muggle clothing at a wizard's convention?"

She chewed on a thumbnail, thinking hard. "If it's a dress, it shouldn't matter too much, and I'm sure it can be altered. It's black with a halter top..." She trailed off to stare at him for a moment. "In fact, I think you've seen it..."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped.

"No, honestly... That night at the hotel..."

"You weren't wearing a dress," he reminded her, beginning to worry that she had run mad.

"Not that time, the other time, when I was with my family... You ran into me..."

Now he remembered. That evening felt like eternities ago.

"You were wearing the heels," he added, squinting. "And I believe that it was you who ran into me."

She arched her eyebrows. "Really, now. Well, at any rate, do you remember the dress?"

Only too well... In fact, he was more than grateful that she wasn't able to see what his reaction to the memory was from her vantage point.

"Yes," he replied, wincing inwardly. Think of nice things, he told himself. Like puppies and flowers and...

"Well, do you think that it will work?"

To his relief, the erection was beginning to subside, although he had a feeling that there would be a series of cold showers later in the day.

"I'm sure it will be fine, and if not you can work something out."

She smiled in relief, before observing, "It's almost time for lunch. Shall we go down?"

He helped her up from her kneeling position on the floor, and she grinned in thanks. He acutely felt each place she had brushed his body and tried--unsuccessfully--to ignore it. When she didn't let go of his hand immediately, he felt himself stiffen a second time and glanced down at her in time to see an intense expression on her face that filled him with heat and made him inhale sharply.

"Severus?" she asked, her look becoming puzzled. "Is something wrong?"

She dropped his hand, and he made a half-hearted attempt at smiling.

"Of course not," he assured her. "Lunch?"

He sounded like an imbecile, even to his own ears.

She nodded slowly in reply, still looking somewhat questioning.

"Let's go," she prompted.

*

Ginny shot through the fireplace, landing painfully on her back at the feet of the one and only Draco Malfoy.

"Languish there, darling," he told her, grinning mischievously. "I can think of many things to do in that position."

"Nice to see you too, Draco," she snapped, hoisting herself up stiffly.

"Aren't we cheerful today?" he teased, and she had to laugh at his injured expression.

"So what are your plans?" she asked, making motions that they should move into the kitchen.

"Plans?" he repeated innocently.

"You must have some sort of plan," she told him, smiling over his shoulder.

"I just told you, but you didn't seem to like it," he joked, reclining in a wooden chair at the table.

"Very funny, Malfoy."

"I thought so."

She sat down opposite him and they sat in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought. Finally, Ginny suggested, "What about a walk?"

"Pardon?" he asked, jerking up. "Oh... A walk. Yeah, sounds good."

She led the way out the front door and down through the apple orchard. When they had walked a few minutes, he grabbed her by the waist, making her shriek, then took off down the path leaving her laughing in his wake.

When she recovered her breath, she chased after him, pumping her arms faster as she grew closer. He was aware of her only at the last moment, giving him enough time to duck out of her way when she tried to fling herself on his back and she landed hard on the grass. He jumped, landing dog-pile style on top, knocking the wind out of her.

"Draco!" she tried to yell, but it came out as a wheeze. "Get off!"

He rolled off, and lay beside her laughing.

"Bastard," she muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his mouth turning up. "You'd do better to remember which one of us is ticklish the next time you decide to insult me."

"Stop it!" she shrieked as he attacked her stomach and neck mercilessly. "Don't!" Her protests were soon drowned out by laughter as he showed no signs of relenting.

When she could no longer breathe, he stopped and she pushed him off of her, desperately trying to recover.

"I still think you're a bastard," she informed him once she had regained her ability to speak.

"I'd be worried if you didn't," he replied, flicking a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, and she grinned at him.

"You shouldn't have such a low opinion of yourself..."

He laughed softly and propped himself up to look at her properly, murmuring in her ear, "It's only because of you that I have it. Before you came along, I had too high an opinion of myself..."

"I'm glad that I did something," she replied, grinning up at him innocently.

In a grandmotherly voice, he asked, "Are you a virgin, Ginny dear? Because the way you're looking at me right now, I could rob you of that very quickly..."

"Very much so," she slurred, feeling almost drunk. "And you? Because I'm feeling the same thing just now..."

"Think about the question," he teased, lowering his mouth to hers. "Who would I have fucked? Pansy Parkinson?"

"Perhaps," she replied, more than a little breathless.

He drew away, shuddering. "Merlin, she's possibly the ugliest girl to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts... Now look what you've done, bringing her up... You've gone and spoiled the moment--we'll have to go through it all over again now."

"Nothing wrong with that," Ginny whispered in reply as his hands began roaming.

"I thought you might enjoy it..."

She twined her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers, exploring it hungrily with her tongue as he began pulling her shirt off, pausing to admire.

"Nice bra," he commented, eyes glinting with humour. "Although I must say it looks much better off..."

"How come you get to see me shirtless?" she complained, half-laughing.

"We can remedy that..."

"Thank you," she said, and Draco began his striptease.

*

Hermione put the stopper in the last vial of The Golden Shield, before turning to Severus.

"Yes?" he asked, raising the trademark eyebrow.

"I haven't said anything yet," she replied with a tone that implied she was laughing at him.

"You only get that look when you want something, so what is it?"

"A bit testy tonight, aren't you?" she commented. "But yes, I did want something."

He shot her an I told you so look.

"A walk."

"It's getting a bit late, isn't it?" he reminded her skeptically. "Don't forget that we leave tomorrow before dawn."

"I know, but it's so nice out and it's a full moon--"

She ended the sentence as soon as the meaning sank in, looking at him with alarm.

He shook his head. "Don't worry, I managed to talk my way out of it. Everything's all right."

"But..."

She remembered the last time he had returned from a meeting, worse off than usual. She knew that nothing was all right and she knew better than to argue.

Better than believing a lie, a part of her said, but she ignored it. She was not the silly little girl he had once accused her of being. She knew that the war was about sacrifices, whether she liked them or not.

"A walk?" she reminded him, wanting to think of anything but Voldemort, anything but the frighteningly possible.

He nodded, betraying no emotion, and with a space that felt like oceans between them, they headed out the door in unison. They remained carefully apart most of the way through the halls, barely speaking although Hermione felt as if there was something that needed to be said, something in the back of her mind, but no words came.

The air outside was warm, the breeze nothing more than a whisper on her bare arms, hardly enough to send his robes billowing, and the sun had set, leaving a dark tapestry of stars stretched above them. Unconsciously, she picked out the constellations, craning her neck.

"When I was little, I used to pretend that the stars were castles and the people who lived in them would come down and take me away to live there," Hermione murmured dreamily.

He looked at her sharply, and she could see the question in his eyes.

"It wasn't always so bad," she assured him. "What girl doesn't dream of being spirited away to a fairyland of some sort? That was back before I knew what hell meant."

"From my bedroom window every night, I would watch the sun setting and wait for the first star," he whispered, as if only just remembering. "Downstairs, I knew what was happening, but the only thing I could feel was relief that it wasn't me."

The bitterness in his voice was strong enough that she could feel it in her bones.

"It wasn't your fault," she told him with conviction. "You were afraid. You had every right to be."

He had paced a few steps away from her while speaking. She now reached forward and brushed him on the arm. He began to stiffen, then relaxed as she drew alongside of him and leaned against him, clasping his hand.

"It's a beautiful night," she whispered, allowing his arms to slide around her.

"That it is," he agreed.

She tilted her head back so she could meet his gaze and her mouth curved into a half-smile.

"You aren't always a bastard," she told him affectionately. "Just mostly."

"Well, that's an improvement," he replied wryly.

"One step at a time..."

He laughed softly, and she could feel it rumbling up from deep in his throat. The moonlight illuminated his face, emphasizing the shadows and making his eyes glint out in the darkness. Hogwarts stood behind them, a silent statue with no light shining from a single window.

"Are you excited?" she asked him.

"Excited?" he repeated.

"Yeah... you know, that feeling when butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach and you can't stop bouncing because you can't wait for something to happen," she teased, laughing at his expression.

"Quite possibly," he replied with a hint of a smile in the twist of his mouth.

"Wow... I was wondering if you were capable."

She grinned impishly up at him and pressed her head into his chest.

He twined a strand of her hair around his finger absently, then unwrapped it, using the same hand to tilt her face up to his and lowered his head. She raised herself up on her toes the rest of the way, letting her lips brush his gently.

"We should head in soon," she told him, lowering herself so that she was standing flat-footed again. "It's an early morning tomorrow."

*

All concept of reality was gone. He was reality. White-blond, sweat-soaked hair, pale chest and shoulders, sea blue eyes above her. On top, beneath, inside, encircling. He was everywhere, he was the entire world. Whatever fear, whatever reservations she might have had had vanished with the ground that had once lay beneath her and been replaced with pure ecstasy, a blinding rush that made her feel as though she were soaring.

Some part of her mind that had remained sane reminded her that they were lying in an apple orchard for anyone to find. Then that brief moment of clarity disappeared, sponged up into oblivion with everything else.

She arched her back, throwing back her head, craving more and the pulses came harder, faster than before as he reached the peak, then slid out of her, rolled off of her, and Ginny was back on the ground again, Draco lying beside her.

"I told you that you'd get to see me shirtless," he commented, eyes glazed over as though slightly bewildered as he flopped onto his back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Don't start with the apologizing," she warned, positioning herself so that she was resting her head on his chest. "Don't take all the credit for the idea."

"I won't, if only because you won't let me."

She mock-glared at him before saying, "We should put something on. Imagine if someone were to walk by... People know me here."

He laughed. "You're right, as always. You'll need to get off of me first, though."

*

Ginny was sitting on her bed, staring thoughtfully out the window. She wondered if anyone in her family had noticed that she was different from that morning. She wasn't upset or filled with regret, just... changed. And yet at the same time, she hadn't. It was all rather confusing.

She wondered if what was between her and Draco had changed. It didn't seem to have. He wasn't treating her as if she were made of glass, and they had still managed to laugh over the same things, talk without feeling as though there was a wall between them. If anything, she felt much closer to him now.

She reached underneath her pillow for the last letter he had sent her, half amused, half cringing at the way she was behaving. It was ridiculous, yet she couldn't help it.

Her fingers brushed the bedspread, missing the letter, so she tried again, still finding nothing. Bewildered, she tore the pillow off to find it, but it wasn't there. A thought occurred to her that made her blood run cold.

What if Mum found it when she did the laundry?

A voice behind her made her spin around in shock.

"Missing something?"

Harry was standing in the doorway, holding a folded piece of paper in his hands, and by the looks of things, he'd been there for a while.

"Give me the letter, Harry," Ginny ordered coldly.

"What if I don't want to?"

He began to advance towards her, and she tried to ignore the knot of fear growing in her stomach.

"Get the hell away from me!" she hissed at him desperately. "Do you want the entire house to hear? Just give me the letter and go."

"I don't think I will..."

The slow, languidly dangerous tone in his voice made her shudder. Her eyes darted frantically, trying to find a way to escape, but he had backed her into a corner.

"Now," he said easily. "Let's talk. What were you doing today?"

"That's none of you fucking business!" she snapped at him.

"Because you know that I won't let Malfoy get the best of me..."

Moving in closer, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, yanking her in violently for a kiss that more a violation of her mouth than anything else. For a moment, his face was replaced with that of Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle standing over her, telling her that she would die. She blinked, and it was Harry again, only now she wasn't afraid. What could be worse than Voldemort? She brought her knee up between his legs hard, then before he could recover, pushed him over, grabbing the letter as he fell.

"Get out," she repeated, ripping the lamp off of the nightstand and waving it at him.

This time he obeyed, not fancying having bits of glass lodged into his head.

"Ginny?" her mother asked, voice floating up the stairs. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing!" she called back, trying to keep the shaking from her voice as she sank down onto the bed.

She knew that she couldn't tell. Harry wouldn't hesitate to spill the beans on her then. The only reason that he wasn't downstairs talking to Molly that very second was because Ginny had something on him. Not to mention that if she let anyone know, she had no idea what Harry would do. Massaging her temples, she got ready for bed and crawled beneath the covers, but not before she shut her door firmly, checking and double-checking to make sure that it was locked.

*

Hermione rolled over, rubbing open her eyes.

"Next time, try something more effective than poking me a few times," she mumbled, crawling out of bed. "I'll meet you in the entranceway."

He nodded once, then swept out of the room, leaving Hermione pulling on the one set of clothes that had not been packed. She took a few moments to tame her hair and apply the barest hint of make-up, before dropping the eyeliner and lip gloss into her purse and hurrying down to the front doors, where Severus was leaning, looking impatient.

"Where is the luggage?" she asked, looking around.

"They're in the carriage. We're taking it to Hogsmeade and then using a portkey to get to Leipzig."

"You've mentioned that before," she told him, leading the way out. "Let's go."

"Someone's a little excited," he commented, following her.

"You're very brilliant sometimes."

"Of course I am," he smirked, climbing into the carriage, Hermione close behind. "Make sure the door is shut."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How stupid do you think I am?"

He raised an eyebrow, and she barely contained a giggle.

"Please don't answer that," she added.

"Just as well."

She smirked at him as the carriage jerked into action, and found herself flying forward in his direction from the sudden movement. Staring up at him from the uncomfortable position that was half on the floor, she realized that he was laughing at her. No, not laughing--howling.

"Don't laugh too hard--you might fall out," she muttered at him, attempting to look dignified.

Still sniggering, he lifted her up and helped her back into position.

"It wasn't that funny," she told him, looking bewildered.

"No," he agreed. "It wasn't."

"You'll never let me forget this, will you?"

"It doesn't look like I will any time in the near future."

"Leave the predictions to Trelawny," she advised him, "and stick with your creepy dungeons. Forecasts don't suit you."