Wilted Celandine

Chapter Four

Third person, Hermione's POV

Hermione was furious. He had skipped out on the lesson! It had been yesterday night when it had happened, yet the thought of it still made anger boil inside of her. That slimy git...How dare he! After all we've been through, all those essays and questions and notes taken and...Hermione sighed. How could he do this to me?

She was about to round a corner, when she saw it: blood. A shiver of fear running down her spine, Hermione backpedaled, and peering down the corridor, she saw no movement at all. But...wait. Was that a HAND?!

Throwing down her belongings and rushing down the corridor, Hermione slipped, and fell to the floor, sliding against the wet surface. Eyes wide in horror, she stared at the scene before her. Blood. Everywhere. All over the floor. Tons of it. And...Draco! He and a girl Hermione didn't recognize lay on the floor, unmoving. Feeling her eyes brim with tears, Hermione bent over Draco in concern.

His face and neck had a few smears of blood on them. The contrast between the crimson colour and Draco's pale skin frightened Hermione. He looked so terrifying and simultaneously beautiful, his long lashes lying angelically against his cheeks, mouth smeared with blood, his flaxen hair glowing like a beacon. He was extremely pale. So very, very white.

Sobbing, Hermione gently lay Draco's head on her lap, and, palms lightly resting on his head, her fingers rested against his temples. Emerald velvet and black silk complimenting his slender figure, surrounded by blood, it was as if the young woman who shed tears for him was mourning the death of a loved one.

But her sobs didn't meet the ears of a single soul.

-----*-----

Hermione felt more than disappointed when she was told that she couldn't visit Draco. She now stood behind a pillar, feeling guilty and sad about the situation, as she eavesdropped on Dumbledore and Draco's conversation. She needed to find out what had happened and how it had happened. And she was willing to do anything to listen to Draco's voice. When Dumbledore had entered the hospital wing, he had marched straight past Hermione and Madam Pomfrey and went to Draco's bedside, pulling the curtain shut for privacy without a single word.

Hermione had realized that she had become attached to Draco. Regardless of the occasional insult and disagreement with her, he was much more respectful and less arrogant than ever before. He acted like a gentleman upon her arrival and departure, but was willing to express his opinion straightforwardly during lessons, no matter how much it opposed Hermione's. That was one thing Hermione had grown to like about him: he was stubborn in his opinions and not afraid to speak his thoughts. He was honest and, truth be told, quite a good listener when he wanted to be.

Of course, there was the way he would sometimes give her that eerie smile of his, and the sinister glint in his eyes sometimes when they met gazes. But Hermione still cared for him regardless. He was her enemy no more than she was enemy to herself. She accepted him for who he was, and made her time spent with him an enjoyable experience by remaining calm and optimistic as much as possible. There was one thing Hermione hated about Draco, though: he only respected her because of her knowledge. And he tried his best to get her angry all the time. She didn't understand what it was he got out of making her frustrated, but the fact that he found it appealing at all angered Hermione even more.

Hermione tuned in and her personal thoughts slid to the distance as she focused all her attention and listening skills on the Headmaster's conversation with her student.

"Draco, please tell me what it was that happened a few hours ago in that corridor. Why were you with Annika Mumbik the Hufflepuff, and how did the blood come to be there? Please be honest."

Hermione could sense the uneasiness in Draco's voice. Only someone who had been time with him and had studied him as much as she had could tell he was nervous. "I didn't know she was a Hufflepuff. She got herself into it; it's her problem, her fault she got hurt. The blood is hers; all hers."

Repressing a gasp, questions flew into Hermione's mind. How could the blood have been all hers? How could she have lost so much? There was so much blood! She could die from all that blood loss!

"You didn't tell me what happened, Draco, or why you were with her."

His voice was now hard as steel. "I'm not going to tell you. With all due respect, Headmaster, you're going to have to find out for yourself."

Curiousity stabbed at Hermione's mind ferociously. She couldn't help it; the urge to know was sizzling inside her. "Alright then, Draco. I will find out. Before I leave though, tell me, Draco...do you know what your father is?"

A jolt of shock and fear shot through Hermione.

The viciousness in Draco's voice made Hermione shiver, as he said, "If you're referring to my father and the Dark Arts, my answer is no. But if you're referring to the dark creature that my father is, then yes, I know."

The tension was so palatable Hermione could almost taste it. "Are you, Draco, also a--"

"DON'T SAY IT!!!"

Hermione stayed for a few moments longer, but there was simply silence. She quickly and quietly slipped away, Draco's yell, his words enigmatic and intriguing, echoing in her ears.

-----*-----

For the next week and a half, Hermione saw and heard no sign of Draco, and knew him to be still in the hospital, for an upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin was canceled. But on Thursday night, she had come up to the Astronomy Tower for some peace and reminiscing, and a look at the stars, when he returned.

She was leaning against the stone rail, looking up at the luminescent beauty of the moon, when the scrape of something moving made Hermione jump suddenly. Turning around in surprise at the disruptive noise, she found Draco sitting in his usual position on his chair, booted feet and coat on the table. It was a sight Hermione welcomed. But he was laughing at her.

Feeling her cheeks flush pink in embarrassment and annoyance, Hermione smiled, saying, "Why, if it isn't my favorite and most troublesome student." For a moment, simple, chocolate eyes locked with mysterious silvery ones, and silence reigned. Hermione felt herself sucked into his gaze, willing to jump into it, join with it; anything to be closer to the mystery and magnetic calm and power that was Draco Malfoy. The tornado of questions about him that swirled in her mind, waiting for answers, was too strong for Hermione to deny his tight hold over her.

Giving her that haunting smile, Draco stood up, and with a whirl of his cloak and steady stride or two he was at her side. Staring up at him, Hermione's heart beat so fast it was almost unbearable, and the intensity of his gaze made her feel weak in the knees. She wished he would stop looking at her so intently, and yet she wanted his eyes to stay on her for as long as possible, for that meant that his attention was focused on her, and her alone. Hermione felt that if she was worthy of his gaze, though, then surely having him a tad closer wouldn't be too much of an honor to ask for, right?

It seemed almost as if he heard her thoughts, for, indeed, he did step closer. The world seemed to stop as Hermione smelt the many scents that had first drawn her to Draco Malfoy, as he leant forward, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Then all comprehension of her breath, skin, body, and mind were lost as she drowned inside his kiss.

Humanity was shed, and Hermione seemed to gain the wings of a creature so great and terrible that even as she seemed to fly, her heart fell into the depths of a dark chasm, and the pain mixed with glory seemed to continue endlessly. His mouth against hers, the warmth and moistness bringing an immense pleasure, was the ultimate rapture, the gentleness and steady devotion filling Hermione with an awed elation.

She felt she could give herself to him, that forever was not too much if it was related to the gift that was his lips on hers. Then he teased her, hinting of many more possibilities as his tongue probed at her lips. Leaning to rest her body against him, the lovely sensations continued, allowing Hermione to adapt to the tingle underneath her skin, as mouths opened, and passion increased. She wasn't aware of pain as his teeth dug into her soft bottom lip and drew blood, wasn't aware of sounds as the tingling pleasure made her moan quietly. His tongue's touch was bliss and the scent of Draco that filled Hermione's nose was what had been the appetizer for their current bond.

Then it all ended with he simply pulling away, and Hermione was left bereft and wobbly as her flight was stopped abruptly with a disappointing halt. She hadn't the heart or the alertness to stop Draco leaving as she remained still as stone, eyes wet and skin still pleasantly tingling.

Finally she moved, stopping to press his coat to her face before quickly tucking it away and trying to escape her heart's insistency with a speedy runaway. She had let herself open to falling apart. She had not busied herself enough. She had let Draco Malfoy weave a spell around her and then hook it around her neck. Hermione promised herself he would never be able to make her doubt and question herself again.