Immoral In Devotion Skies

CHAPTER FIVE: Point of No Return

Past the point

of no return

the final threshold -

the bridge

is crossed, so stand

and watch it burn . . .

We've passed the point

of no return . . .

The Phantom of the Opera "The Point of No Return"

I've never been one to regret anything. I believe it to be a sign of weakness. Everything that happens is an experience and I am not one to turn away from experiences. I've always been told that everything happens for a reason, and no matter how bad something seems there is always a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Every experience has its lesson. Life is a road of learning before it takes you to the next stage to the unknown. What happens when there is no reason behind something that has happened? No reason and no lesson - just guilt, the inside conscience knowing what has happened is wrong and...regret.

*

Hermione stared in awe at the towering mansion before her. Statues of dangerous creatures and beasts lined the front of the house between the ground and first floor of the mansion. The mansion was made out of dark grey bricks that looked almost black. Hermione could perfectly see that it used to belong to a Dark Wizard. The mansion looked even more sinister than 12 Grimmauld Place. However, its ugliness could not convey the beauty of the temptation of the dark, and the power within the walls of the house seemed to radiate throughout.

Draco grimaced at the sight of the house, mistaking Hermione's expression of awe for disgust. "It's ugly, I know. Believe me: if I had a choice, I wouldn't live here."

Hermione turned her gaze away from the beautiful yet threatening mansion and looked at Draco. "I don't think it's ugly. It's magnificent...in a different way. It would never be a place I would choose for a home, but it's beautiful in its own way. It doesn't fail to portray a strong energy inside the mansion." Hermione cocked her head to one side. "I can see it was a dark, dark house once, but there seems to be a new light that sheds on it." Hermione paused. "Perhaps, a light of hope, good, and all that is wonderful. Maybe, it's a light that shows that good always prevails over evil." Hermione shrugged.

Draco stared at his home, the place he had lived for all his life - with the exception of Hogwarts. He now looked upon it more fondly after hearing Hermione's speech. For someone like her to think the place was not ugly seemed to make all the difference. She was the light of all goodness, innocence and pureness, the pristine waters untouched, and the beauty of serenity.

If Hermione had heard the thoughts inside Draco's mind, she would have laughed out loud. She was anything but the innocent and good girl she once portrayed. As said before: - the War changed everything. Hermione became a drunkard for a time after the War - not exactly Miss Good-Girl material. She also came to realise that life was too short to be spent buried in the crisp papers of books. Life had more to offer than knowledge. Life was a journey - a time for experience. However, Hermione believed she might have taken the experimenting a little too far. Much of which ended up with feelings of regret and resentment, and beating herself up over how careless she had been to act upon certain situations, leading to stupid mistakes and dire consequences. Nonetheless, what is done is done and Hermione could not change the past, however much she wanted to. Namely, Harry would still be alive.

Hermione shivered due to the brisk, cold air. This movement caused Draco to break away from his thoughts. He enquired mainly out of politeness, though he was getting cold himself, "Do you want to go inside?"

Hermione smiled. "I never thought you'd ask!"

Together, they strode across the field that was sprawled in front of the Malfoy Mansion and stepped onto the massively grand porch that was supported by pillars and decorated with pretty, flowery engraved patterning.

The wide doors opened, and they both walked inside. Hermione was surprised to see that she was greeted by two house-elves, though she shouldn't have been since Draco had just told her that he still had house-elves working for him.

Draco smiled at them. "I thought you were supposed to be in the kitchen?"

The house-elf on his right was covered in a soft, pale green, luxurious-looking towel whilst the house-elf to his left was covered in a dark blue pillowcase emblazoned with the Malfoy family crest. The house-elf on the right, nearest to Hermione, bowed before his master and squeaked, "Sir, Twinkle is in the kitchen tending to the dinner and Dopsy is with her. But, we are sorry if we have defied master's rules. We'll go back in at once!" The two house-elves bowed quickly.

Draco merely nodded. "Very well. It doesn't matter. Tell Twinkle and Dopsy to come here."

The two house-elves rushed off, their feet pattering towards the oak door at the end of the long, dark hallway.

Draco smiled fondly at the retreating pattering feet. "The one who spoke was Pixie and the other one on my left was Wicker. The others are in the kitchen."

Hermione frowned. "Wait - you have more house-elves?"

"Of course...weren't you listening? I have four house-elves, I -" said Draco.

"What?" Hermione interrupted. "I thought two was a lot, but four!"

Draco looked amused. "I used to have sixteen if I count correctly - that was, of course, before the War, when my parents were still here. Whenever any meetings were held here, Voldemort liked to use the house-elves as an example of what he could do to the Death Eaters. We lost quite a few that way, and when other witches and wizards came trashing into the mansion at random intervals, they killed the house-elves because they got in their way." Draco paused. "I lost my nanny too."

Hermione creased her eyebrows with a sad expression on her face. "That's awful! But...you use to have sixteen house-elves? How many jobs do you need sixteen house-elves to do?"

"Well, three each for the four jobs: cooking, cleaning, tidying and laundry," replied Draco.

"So, what do you do now?"

"Well, I have four jobs and four house-elves, so one for each job," Draco explained.

"What?" Hermione shrieked. "One house-elf has to do the jobs of three? How could you?"

Draco looked amused again. "I've cut down their workload if it makes you feel any better. I do quite a lot of the jobs around here now; they're like my teachers more than anything - like I said previously."

Hermione gave him a wiry smile. That answer seemed to satisfy her for the time being as she made no comment. She was still deeply concerned for the welfare of house-elves, but Draco seemed to treat them reasonably well. After all, she would be here for the evening so she would be able to witness how he truly treated his house-elves. He would be in for a great scolding if he she saw him mistreating them because not only would he be a slave-driver, but a liar too!

Draco looked up as he heard the sounds of feet tapping on the cold, wooden floor. Each of his four house-elves stood behind the other bowing before him. He grinned; he had told his house-elves the other day that it was no longer necessary for them to bow to him, but they seemed to regard this with nearly as much as shock if he had offered them clothes.

The house-elves viewed it as a sign of respect and their duties to their master. They thought their master was saying in subtle words that they were not doing their job properly to their full potential, and they had set out to work even harder the next day. They didn't stop until Draco had enquired why they were exhausting themselves so; tentatively, Pixie had told him how they had viewed his comment on their respect of bowing before their master. Draco had seen how Pixie shook when he told him his view because house-elves were not supposed to speak up, but Draco had merely laughed. He told them that if it made them feel better to bow before him then they could carry on doing so; otherwise there was absolutely no need. The house-elves, of course, had decided they would carry on bowing.

Hermione beamed at them as they stood in a line, their hands clasped behind their backs. "Who's who?"

The head of the house-elves, Twinkle looked apprehensively at her master, a look to ask permission whether she could speak up or not. Draco simply gave a wave of the hand. Twinkle looked up at his master's lady-friend and said in a high squeaky voice, "I'm Twinkle, Miss. I'm in charge of the cooking."

The house-elf next to her, dressed in a flowery pillowcase decorated with the Malfoy family crest similar to Wicker, said, "I'm Dopsy, Miss. I'm in charge of the laundry."

Pixie was about to speak up next to introduce himself but Draco cut in with a pleasant voice, "It's okay, Pixie. I've already introduced you, and Wicker, too. Twinkle, Dopsy, Pixie, and Wicker - this is Hermione Granger. She is an old Hogwarts student, too."

Their eyes widened when Hermione's name was mentioned, but it was Pixie who spoke up. "Sir, wasn't she a friend of Harry Potter?" He then realised he should not have spoken and clasped his hands over his mouth. He bowed quickly to Hermione as well as his master.

Draco grinned sheepishly. "Yes, she is. I know you house-elves end up listening in on our conversations when you're doing your duties, but I no longer hate Miss Granger. That was many years ago. The past has been put behind us and the air is cleared." He glanced at Hermione. "That's correct, isn't it? I'm sorry to say that I used to have quite an amount of pent up anger for you. Noting that you beat me nearly every year for the top place in exams! By the way...you are a Miss? Figuring you haven't got a boyfriend and all - unless there's something else..." Draco trailed off.

Hermione smiled. "I am indeed a Miss, and there is nothing else. All is forgiven, too."

Draco smiled and offered Hermione his arm. "Shall we proceed to the kitchen to check on the dinner?"

Hermione giggled and blushed like a teenager as she took his arm. "That would be very nice indeed. I would love to help."

"Oh no, there will be no need! This meal is a surprise," said Draco. He turned to his house-elves. "All duties for the day are dismissed. Go and have a rest. Duties will be resumed in the morning, and Twinkle, there will be no need for you to make breakfast tomorrow. Just some for yourselves."

The house-elves whooped with joy as they rushed down the hallway and turned down a corridor towards their den.

*

Hermione giggled as she sipped her wine. Draco was making ridiculous imitations of the Hogwarts teachers that had taught them during their time there. The meal had been delicious; Hermione was surprised that Draco was such a good cook. She had always assumed that he was a pampered prince but he obviously wasn't. He had changed, much to his good. If he was still the horrible, conceited, foul boy he used to be, she would have never stepped a foot into his home. But here she was now.

Hermione laughed loudly, spraying the wine that was in her mouth all over the floor. Currently, Draco was sprouting frizzy, grey, uncontrollable hair and was covered in dirt. He was trying to do an impression of Professor Sprout. Wiping her mouth, Hermione chuckled again as he mimicked the excited way the teacher talked with hands all over the place. Hermione placed her wine glass down. "Neville's the new Herbology teacher now at Hogwarts," she said, slurring her words slightly.

Draco stopped waving his hands in the air. "Excuse me? That fat, stupid boy is a teacher?" he exclaimed. "Shall I do an impression of him?"

"No!" Hermione said giggling. Though she knew it wasn't a funny topic, she just couldn't stop laughing. "Enough impressions! You're making me laugh so hard I can't breathe!"

Draco flicked his wand, and his appearance returned to normal. His eyes gleamed as a mischievous grin was plastered on his face. "Laughing too much? Can't breath? Are you ticklish then, Hermione?" he said whilst wiggling his fingers in the air as he crept towards Hermione.

Realising what he was about to do, Hermione shrieked and leapt off the soft, dark velvet green sofa. She ran out of the living room and up the stairs with Draco at her heels issuing tickling threats. She yelped as Draco caught her. They skidded on the wooden floor of the corridor, and Draco fell on top of her. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the once again glittering silver eyes that were boring into hers.

Draco searched Hermione's face as he stared down at the girl he once hated. She was gone and no longer existed. Instead what had replaced her was a young, kind, forgiving, exquisite woman with eyes that were haunted of the past. Draco shook his head as if to rid the new impressions that were forming about this young woman. What ever happened to bushy-haired, buck-toothed, know-it-all Granger? He didn't understand; when had everything changed so suddenly? Regaining his composure, he stood up and held out a hand to help Hermione up.

Hermione took his hand without once taking her eyes of him. Memories of Hogwarts came flooding back and hit her so hard that she staggered with the force. She would have fallen over if Draco hadn't still been clutching her hand.

Draco looked curiously at Hermione. An idea came into his head and he whispered, without knowing why, "Do you want to dance?"

Hermione gave him a small smile. The atmosphere was tense, as if ready to explode with the newfound information that they had just both discovered. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be happening. They were friends and that's all they could ever be. However, no matter what Hermione thought, it didn't suppress the sensation that was stirring in the pit of her stomach. She held out her hand to Draco.

Draco took Hermione's hand and pulled her close to him. He gently placed her hand on his shoulder and encircled his own around her delicate waste. Then he took her other hand in his own and inhaled the scent of her hair: vanilla, roses and coconut.

"There's no music," Hermione whispered.

Draco muttered an incantation under his breath, and suddenly music, only present to them, filled their senses. The music was not coming out of a stereo or the walls, but inside them. Beautiful, gentle, peaceful music was dancing in their minds, speaking to them of the new love they had just found within each other. Whether Draco and Hermione listened that closely to the music was a different subject, but right now they were swaying together rhythmically. Their bodies were touching, their skin was in close contact, and the heat of their bodies mingling was with the each other's. Their passion swelled, on the verge of explosion with their newfound discovery of emotions, as their bodies fitted together like a perfect jigsaw puzzle, pieces that have fitted a thousand life times, and will continue to match together for the thousand years to come.

Draco lifted Hermione's head until he was staring into those familiar brown eyes again. Without thinking, he brushed his lips across hers. He deepened the kiss as Hermione responded until their hands were grasping one another as their kiss intensified. Their mouths fused together, and their breaths became each other's as they joined as one. They were both out of breath before their mouths parted.

Hermione blushed under Draco's gaze. "We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered. But the thought flew away as her lips parted, and Draco brought his lips onto hers again. The alcohol she had drunk earlier disregarded any reasoning that what they were doing was wrong. She grabbed Draco's soft, pale blonde hair as she kissed him, hungrily pressing her mouth into his.

Draco responded with the same amount of passion, nibbling Hermione's soft, creamy flesh on her neck as they fell against a door. Their bodies were now sweeping together like a fire - flaming and roaring with frenzied ardour. He pushed Hermione back a little as he lifted himself off the door in his attempt to open it behind him. Draco continued to fumble with knob as his hands kept slipping on the shiny surface because of the fresh sweat that had formed due to the heated temperature of their bodies. Finally, he managed to push upon his bedroom door, and both he and Hermione fell through the doorway.