Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>22 Explanations

"The reason I have called you in again, is because I knew that all four of you would like answers to all the questions you are asking about what happened. With some investigation and with much appreciated research from Ms. Granger," Dumbledore turned to smile at Hermione, who smiled back, blushing. Dumbledore continued, "I have found these answers. Now then, ask all the questions you can think of about Voldemort's failed plan."

Jumping in his seat, barely controlling his mouth, words rushed out of Ron's mouth; "Professor, er, Headmaster, why did the Malfoy Gate injure my arm?"

Dumbledore smiled, saying, "Why, you'd better ask that one to Mister Malfoy; he'd know the full answer." Ron frowned, and then turned, glaring, towards Malfoy.

"Well?"

"Well what, Weasley? I might not feel like divulging that information."

Ron glared harder, and Dumbledore gave Draco a stern look. Giving a glare to Dumbledore, Draco turned towards Ron, saying, "Well, Weasley, all doors and gates on Malfoy property cannot be opened unless by a Malfoy, or Lord Voldemort himself." Ron flinched at the name Voldemort, making Draco snicker. Continuing, Draco said, "The Malfoy who built Malfoy Manor, Nepsur Malfoy, bonded his blood with the ingredients of the iron before the blacksmith even began to make the rods that the Malfoy gate and fences are made of."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly at Draco, and then asked, "Any more questions?"

Harry raised a hand, asking, "Well, sir, why did the key that Wormtail must have pretended was sent to me by Si-my god father, why did the key Portkey Malfoy and I to that...place, where we fought with swords?"

"It's called fencing, Potter, fencing. Too bad if you can't comprehend the difference, Potter, but this isn't the same thing." Harry murmured a grumbly "Shut up" towards Malfoy, and then turned back towards Dumbledore.

"Well, Harry, the key is a special artifact called the Key of Salamdibane, which is a fortress that used to be located in the Forbidden Forest. This key was said to be able to lock and unlock the Chamber of Wishes. Located in the Chamber of Wishes was the Wishing Well, which still stands, and which is the same well that, at the bottom is a set of tunnels leading in many directions, one of which goes to Crossbury Filston in which is Polly's Putrid Pot."

Draco kept his face masked as, inside, he felt nervous. The fortress was obviously the ancient bits of walls that stood here and there in the forest, and the Chamber of Wishes the bits of walls around the well he'd dropped the Malfoy ring into, the well that was obviously the Wishing Well.

Suddenly Hermione piped up, asking, "Sir, where exactly was the place Harry and Draco were Portkeyed to?"

Dumbledore smiled, saying, "An excellent question, Ms. Granger. The place Harry and Draco were Portkeyed to was the past; they were Portkeyed to the Chamber of Wishes the way it was many centuries ago. The fortress was built by Salazar Slytherin, and used in his last days before he left Hogwarts forever. And the reason the Portkey felt different from most to you two, Harry and Draco, is because it was a Portkey to the past."

"But whatabout the Well? Why wasn't there the Wishing Well in the Chamber of Wishes? Harry didn't say he saw one."

Dumbledore smiled, saying, "Well, Mister Weasley, if either of them had stopped fighting for a second and walked around the corner the Wishing Well would have been right there. But as it was, it was barred by a gate that could only be unlocked with magic--not a key."

And so the questions went on and on, Draco never voicing the one that he knew everyone else wanted to know the answer, to, but that no one dared ask: How had he come back alive after dying from Harry's fatal sword thrust?

~~*~~

Hermione sat, leaning against a tree, having saved a muffin from breakfast and now reading a book. She'd decided to read for an hour before going in to study for a test on Monday. She could spare an hour; after all, it was Saturday, so she wasn't too busy.

Still staring at her book, she reached out a hand towards the top of her lain down bookbag where she'd placed the muffin, not yet eaten. Her hand met with air. Momentarily she continued reading, and then looked. The muffin was gone! What on earth?!

Hermione searched for it everywhere. Under her bookbag, all around her bookbag, in her bookbag, by the tree roots, underneath herself; she searched everywhere possible, and even backtracked her steps before to check if she'd dropped it. Nothing. Not even a crumb.

She stood angrily, now back at her original spot. "Oh, and I do so love blueberry flavored muffins, too. So soft to bite into, so sweet and perfect...I wonder if a bird took it?"

Only moments after she said, she heard a strange "Ee ee, ee ee" sound. It was coming from above. She lifted her head up, eyes frantically searching for the odd noise. Finally, she caught sight of a wisp of silvery hair. "Draco!"

He laughed loudly, head poking out from a bunch of leaves, saying, "Did I sound like a bird?"

Amused, Hermione couldn't stay angry for long, and began to laugh, sputtering through her laughter, "No! No, not at all! You sounded more like a dog trying to bark while being strangled!" She began to laugh harder, and he glared at her.

Then he climbed into full view, sliding gracefully onto a branch closer to her, so that his feet dangled on either side of her head. He held out a piece of muffin in front of her nose, saying, "Bird or not, I took your blueberry flavored soft-to-bite-into, sweet, and perfect muffin!" With a cry of indignation, Hermione grabbed for the small piece desperately. But Draco's Seeker reflexes easily evaded her hand, and laughing victoriously, he popped it into his mouth. Hermione moved so that she stood where she could see him better. Hands on her hips, mouth turned down in a frown, bushy hair flying every which way, she glared at him, saying, "Draco Malfoy, get down from that tree right now so I can slap you for your evil deed. Thief!"

He laughed and urged her closer. Curious yet wary, Hermione moved close again, so that one foot of his was in front of her face. Suddenly, he leant down, grasping her around the waist with his hands, and bodily heaved her up and placed her, like a toy onto a shelf, to sit facing him on the tree branch. Hermione huffed, blowing some hair from her face, and then, grinning, said, "Now I can slap you!" A look of terror flashed in Draco's eyes, and Hermione snapped her wrist forward quickly in what should have hit him with a hard smack. Her hand silently met air. Hermione blinked, and then realized that Draco now dangled upside down, his ankles and hands holding him to the branch. She looked down, laughing at his face, red as the blood rushed to his head.

Hermione couldn't help feeling a flicker of lust as his shirt slipped even further down to reveal his chest more. Tugging at his leg, she demanded, "Get back here, Draco!" Complying, yet avoiding being anywhere near her hands, Draco swung himself back up onto the tree branch. Then he scooted back so that he leaned against the tree trunk, leaving space for Hermione to scoot closer to him on a thicker, more sturdy part of the branch.

She placed her hand on his shoulders; he blinked at her questioningly. Unable to resist the impulse anymore, Hermione leaned forward, planting her lips over his, simultaneously sliding her cold hands, unmittened against the biting spring wind, up his shirt. Pushing his mouth hard against hers, Draco gave a little moan as Hermione dared to use her tongue, and placed his hands over hers as she ran her fingers along his soft, pale skin, reveling at the muscles gained from years of Quidditch. As Hermione's hands slid up to his shoulders, she ended the kiss, tugging his sweater over his head and throwing it to the ground. Then she leant back in for another kiss.

Suddenly, Hermione's hands slid to his back, and both froze, lips still touching, as her hands encountered the many scars of cuts, bruises, and scraped skin of his back that she was sure were reddish. He shivered as her finger followed the trail of a particularly deeply gouged cut; it was more like a slice of skin taken out than a cut, though. Her fingers fearfully now only grazing the skin of his back, she took her lips away from his, and, refusing to meet his gaze, asked, "Does it hurt...my touching them?" Draco's feelings were mixed; still partly horny, yet also unliking her touch on his back, the most hurting part of it was the memories it brought flooding back to him.

Shaking his head, he said hoarsely, "No, it doesn't cause me physical pain. Although...no hands other than my own have ever touched that skin. And no pair of eyes except mine own, yours and...his...have ever seen them."

Voice trembling, Hermione tentatively squeaked, "Who, other then us, Draco? Who?"

He pulled away from her, head turned back, and said, "The only person who dares to rule me, and the only person who dares to demand that I bow at another's feet; and surprisingly enough, he doesn't mean his own feet."

Knowing that he meant Lucius Malfoy, Hermione bit her lip, and whispered, "He can't hurt you here at Hogwarts," before pulling him into another kiss, this one even more passionate. Eventually, Draco forgot the memories and focused wholly on the present. Draco's eyes were closed, his passion rising as her hands further caressed his body, her lips making his hormonal hunger all the more harder to bear.

Finally, when their kiss ended and he could tolerate the feeling no longer, he said to Hermione, "Remember the last time my hormones went wild? On that boat of mine, on the day before the last exam, remember? You protested; it wasn't nice. Unless you want that to happen again, I advise that you..." he choked out the word, now despising it, "Leave." Hermione stared up at him, sweeping back a strand of silver hair from his forehead.

"Leave? I don't want to, though."

"But you don't want my hormones going crazy either, do you?"

Draco now let his uncomfortableness be shown, squirming from side to side on the treebranch, his breathing heavy. Hermione felt swarmed by compassion. She hadn't known it was this hard for him; she supposed, now, though, that he would have a lot of libido; he was sixteen, after all, and a boy. But a part of her couldn't help secretly liking the way he was squirming, helpless. He was totally at her mercy. Hiding her cruel glee and her compassion--she knew he hated being pitied--she gave him a fierce hug, whispering, "Your hormones are a part of you, Draco, and I want to be with you, no matter what."

This, however, did not make Draco feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse. Much worse. Hermione, inexperienced in things like this, didn't know how it felt to be hot with passion, every touch burning his skin, every rub making him sweat profusely with lust. The worst of it was that first of all, hugging was close contact, making it harder for him to endure. Two, she didn't realize it, and thought her hug comforted him when it actually didn't. And lastly, he knew one more rub of her against him would make his tight clothing all the more torturous.

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't know any of this, and in her movement sideways to flick a leaf from Draco's hair, let flood the hormones raging inside Draco. She felt his hand suddenly clutch her side, and then he grabbed her hands, placing them on his shoulders. Then he slid down to a half-lying down half sitting position against the tree, his head and shoulderblades against the trunk of it. She lay her head on his shoulder, barely hearing him whisper, "You've done it now, Hermione. You've done it now."

But Draco did not break out in furious passion, snogging her wildly. He thought up other ways to satiate his lust, without her protesting and without making her nervous or frightened, like last time. Instead, he tried to find a way that was peaceful, and of course it wouldn't be totally satisfactory, but it would be something.

She began to feel sleepy, as Draco rocked back and forth, barely moving, rubbing against her. He sung a lullaby, and with both the rocking motion and his feathery-light, quiet voice, Hermione was eventually half asleep. Meanwhile, Draco broke out in a cold sweat, knowing the motions were making it worse for them both, him now fully aroused and her almost sound asleep. But he continued the movement nevertheless, attempting to satiate his desire, closing his eyes as he felt her curves rub back and forth...

Time seemed to stop for awhile, and he wasn't aware if he was awake or not. He felt the lust pounding through him with each beat of his heart. He dreamed of her cool skin against his, and her mouth on his lips, and...shaking himself out of it, Draco awoke from his daze, and groaned loudly. He now felt an intense urge to shed the tight pants. Resisting these urges, he gently shook Hermione to awake her, and then sat up.

"I need a distraction, Hermione. Prepare to be kissed, alright?"

Before she had a chance to ask what it was he wanted to be distracted from, Hermione found herself being kissed, and viciously.

~~*~~

"Malfoy and Granger sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g; first comes love, and then comes marraige, and then co-"

"What the bloody hell are you babbling, Peeves?! Get your sorry arse outta your mouth! Stop spittin' lies!" Peeves smirked. "Why, i'm not lying, Weasley. Go look out the window and see for yourself." Ron, face redder than his hair, glared at Peeves before looking out the window.

His eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock.

~~*~~

Hermione was really enjoyed the kiss; it had seemed so long, and this one was gentle yet passionate, yet not so hard as to bruise her mouth. And Draco was really into it; he had needed a distraction, of course, so he was making sure she enjoyed it so that it wouldn't stop for a long time.

In reality, however, Draco was not that much distracted. He knew nothing could really distract him, other than a miracle. The kissing didn't make it any better; if anything, it made it worse. Again.

He had just slid his tongue into her mouth when suddenly an outraged voice met his ears: "Hermione! What the bloody hell is going on here? Give me an explanation! I'll kick his arse to the sky if he's up to nastiness of any sort!"

The kiss ended so abruptly that Draco almost fell forward into Hermione in momentum with her pulling away. Wow. He was surprised to feel his arousal slowly ebbing away; the one time he could thank Weasley--what a turn off! He felt normal again, thank god. Her cheeks a dark red color, Hermione looked down to see the one person she wished wasn't there just now. His eyes fiercely blazing with anger, Ron glared at Draco, saying, "You slimy git! How dare you-"

"Shut up, Weasley. Your friend may get hurt if you insult her lover."

Ron's eyes widened with surprise and rage. "LOVER?"

Hermione turned to glare at Draco, and then said to Ron, "That's not true, he's lying, Ron! All we did was snog!...and almost a tiny bit further than snog. Almost!"

Ron stared. "A-Almost? Snog? What is with you, Hermione?! Are you going mad? This is Malfoy we're talking about here, Malfoy for crying out loud!"

Hermione then realized what she'd said, and blushed, saying shyly, "I know, Ron, I know. It may seem like something is wrong with me, or I've been hexed, or gone insane, but I haven't. Draco is very special to me, and you'll never understand why, I don't think. So just don't ask why or how, and accept it. Please."

Hermione looked back at Draco, and he nodded approvingly, whispering, "Well said." He didn't voice his thoughts that, of course, Weasley never accepted anything he didn't like. She smiled, embarassed for many reasons, and looked back at Ron, who was staring at the both of them like they were gigantic beetles wearing yellow bonnets and singing "Jingle Bells, Santa smells..." Then, slowly, he asked, "H-How long has this been going on? The s-snogging and...?"

Hermione blushed harder, and regardless of Draco's protests, told him everything--that is, how much time had passed in between their kisses, not anything else such as what her and Draco had talked about, or any of his emotional or physical problems. Afterward, Ron stared at them in shock a bit more, and then said, "So, your second kiss wasn't until in that cave right after the thing with You-Know-Who's Plan and Harry sword fighting Malfoy and all that?"

Draco nodded, saying, "Right, our second came a long time later, unfortunately." Ron directed a look of hatred and disgust at Draco, as if losing his surprise upon realizing that Draco, who also involved in the entire fiasco, was actually present.

Finally bowing his head, greatly surprising both Hermione and Draco, Ron said, "I just can't believe this. I'm not sure if I'll be able to accept it soon, Hermione, if ever. But I won't argue."

As Ron walked away, he knew that the one person he hated most in the world was Draco Malfoy. But that was in the long run, all around, forever. In the short run, as in right now, today, and not any other time, the one he hated most was Peeves.