There was a bolt of lightning that flashed dangerously close to her. It was close enough to scare her, but not close enough to illuminate the shades of black that were etched around her. There was no moon, no stars, no fog, nothing to guide her through the darkness. There was a definite spray of seawater that splashed across her face, and the wetness filled her shoes, making the base she stood on slick with water. She’d been here a thousand times before at this hour, but tonight was the only night she truly felt terrified. It was the shadows that scared her. They moved about her, dancing around her as she held her wand out in a shaky manner at them, some mocking her as she did so. Another spray of water and a lightning bolt later, the scene changed.
She was burrow in the open grass field. She was staring up at the sky. She desperately tried to move but she couldn’t. She did not know how she had gotten there, or why she wasn’t able to move, what day it was, or even what hour of the day it was. She screamed and screamed, trying desperately to move and sit up, but she couldn’t. Her face became thick with sweat as she lay there, what was happening?
And then came the voice. The voice that came at this moment every dream she had. She listened for the deep sound of Ron’s comforting voice this time, as he called out her name in the caring manner he had about him, and he would find her, but she wouldn’t be able to answer him, and he would cry and kiss her before standing up and then he would leave and she would wake up in a sweat.
But the voice that came tonight was not Ron’s honey thick voice. It was a deep husky voice that she hadn’t heard before in her life. She called out to the voice, the voice calling back as she struggled against the ground, her whole body not being able to move. The voice called again and got closer, closer, until she heard the rustling of the grass near her head.
“Hermione,” the voice breathed shakily. She had never heard anyone say her name like that, she had never heard the way the voice caress her name, every letter, making it sound like a soothing lullaby that made her want to sleep. She looked for the persons’ head, but what she was scared her.
She saw the voice stand up, his feet in her view only now, his dragon hide black shoes covered with mud and dirt, like he had been running, searching for her. She saw another set of feet and voices. The voices were arguing now, and she could see the persons advance on her savior. She called out to them to stop, but as always, they did not hear.
And then came the resounding shots that echoed into the night sky.
The gun stopped then, and she saw the person standing in front of her stagger forward, then backwards. Another set of words were exchanged, followed by the terrifying sound of the shooter emptying the rest of their clip into the man. The man, her savior staggered backwards.
“Hermione, I’m sorry,” the voice said before falling to the ground. The man fell onto her and she screamed, and screamed and screamed….
“Granger!” came a rough voice, “Granger, I’m coming in!”
There was a loud crash and a flash of light as the door to her room was flown open from the bathroom, light filling her room. She sat up with a start, her honey brown eyes staring wildly at the black wall in front of her. Her eyes began to focus and she looked for the source of her waking. She saw him, draped in a black silk sheet hanging dangerously low on his hips, his wand in one hand and his hair in crazy directions. There was glitter of sweat across his body and she felt her stomach lurch.
“I’m going to be sick,” she said, clutching her stomach. His eyes widened as she untangled herself from her sheets and stood. Her shirt was bunched up by her chest, exposing her stomach and the sweat that stuck to it and being held up by tiny straps cross over her shoulders. Her long expanse of legs where bare, except for the very top of her thigh, hidden from his view as she passed him and ran to the sink. She clutched the sink and turned on the cold water. He watched, mouth a gape and drooling as she looked in the mirror-if someone where to ask him a very important question right now, there would be no coherent response. A splash to her face and she looked in the mirror. His door to his room was open, and she could see a blonde sixth year wrapped in his sheets.
“Granger?” his heavy voice came out, watching her as she looked into his room and went pale. Her knuckles clutched the sink tighter and she looked back at the mirror. Her eyes were wide and her skin was a wrong shade of pale.
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, passing him as she went to her room. He looked at her for a moment losing his composure before sneering to her retreating form
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He dreamt of it that night.
Hermione avoided him that morning like the plaque. He’d never seen the head girl in such a state of paranoid, and it set an unsettling feeling in his stomach, that had latched itself onto the walls of it. He watched as she came flying down the stairs, grabbing her bag and sidestepping him quickly, before darting out the door.
She made her way to the great hall in a flash. She left her hair down to hide the marks on her neck-a charm could only do so much- and she wore a tight long-sleeve shirt to hide the bruise on her wrist. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she entered the hall, and she rustled over to Harry and Ron who were busy chowing down on their morning eggs.
“’Morn’n ‘M’one,” Came Ron from between bites of food. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
“Malfoy’s back,” she whispered. Ron stopped chewing and Harry looked at her worriedly.
“I’m fine,” she answered the unspoken question. Ron snorted and swallowed his bite.
“I bet his face looks just fine,” he answered, “Perfectly normal again.”
“Yeah,” Harry muttered, “Everything can go back to normal now that the Prince has returned.”
There was an awkward silence between the friends before Hermione burst out laughing. Harry looked at her quizzically before bursting into his own laughs. Ron joined in a few moments later. The silence had made them laugh, and now tears were rolling freely from Hermione’s face as she returned to their eyes. Harry spoke next.
“There’s a match this Saturday,” he said to Hermione, “Please tell me you’re coming to watch.”
“Of course I’ll be there!” she answered quickly, “Who are you playing?”
Hermione let out a breath of relief. She did not understand why, she wanted them to play Ravenclaw though, why she was relieved it wasn’t Syltherin.
And then, as if almost on cue walked in the reasons she wanted to throw back up her food. In strode the steel eyes of Draco Malfoy and his Veela buddy Blaise Zabini. Her eyes narrowed at the pair as they entered, ice filling every inch of the Great Hall. Call her crazy, but she swore that the talking in the hall got quieter as the infamous death eater pair entered.
Hermione’s hands clenched into fists unconsciously as the pair sat down. She followed their movements with hate filled eyes as they sat down, not noticing the looks the hall gave them. She could have sworn she heard Ron growl next to her as Malfoy’s steel eyes met her brown ones. She stared openly at him, waiting for the ice blue eyes next to his stare at her.
And then Blaise Zabini’s eyes met hers and she lost it. Standing up viciously, she left the great hall, a bewildered Ron and Harry sitting in her wake. Ron made a move to go find her but the sight that Zabini and Malfoy got up just then made his already boiling temper spill over.
“What do they want with ‘Mione,” he growled, standing. Harry looked as the pair left, his eyes narrowing as he watched them.
“I don’t know,” Harry answered, “But I don’t like it.”
Hermione walked quickly down the hall. She walked as quick down the hall as her legs would allow her. She ducked into the library within a few seconds and hid against the wall, making sure no one was following her in. When she felt the coast was clear, she headed to her favorite spot in the library by the window.
It was ridiculously unfair the way the pair effected her. Unlike Ron or Viktor, Malfoy and Zabini had this air about them, an animalistic feeling that drove her insane. It was the feeling that any second she was going to lose her mind and attack them, beg for them-the feeling in itself terrified her. After placing her bag in the corner of her table, she wandered down the shelves of books, looking for one book in paticular.
The noise coming from the next shelf stopped her. There was a whimper and the sound of skin hitting bone, a sickening snap that rang in her ears. She stopped, frozen in place by the noise. If the person were to turn the corner she’d be dead.
“I’m sorry,” came a husky voice. There was another sickening sound of skin hitting skin and a loud crash that came from the person stumbling backwards.
“You’re sorry?” came a dangerous hiss. She’d heard these voices before, but she couldn’t place them.
“Yes,” came the other voice, “Now dammit, stop beating my nose in.”
There was another sound of crunching and smashing before it stopped.
“Tell me Blaise,” came the infamous Malfoy sneer, “Was it worth it? Risking everything for a silly little Mudblood Bitch you can’t have?”
Hermione stood there, but the motion came back into her legs. She could turn the corner and hex them both away, but she wanted to hear more.
“Draco, I said I was sorry for going after her,” Blaise said, “But I’m not sorry that I want her. Face it, you do too, that’s why you’re beating my face in. You want her just as bad as I do.”
There were more bone crunching snaps and horrible sounds, followed by a gasp and a thud on the ground. Hermione felt it vibrating through her feet.
There was the sound of rustling and Hermione knew Blaise had grabbed him. She moved into the bookshelf behind that one, hiding with her back plastered to it.
“You are,” she heard the voice hissed, “And Draco? How did she tasted you ask? She tasted better than every flavor of chocolate bon bon money can buy. She smelled better than every flower in the world. She was the sweetest poison I’ve ever had the luxury of tasting-“
There was a shout and a jet of light erupting from the other side of the shelves. Hermione ducked, avoiding the falling books around her.
“Keep away from her,” hissed Draco, “If you ever attack her like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”
Hermione could picture those words coming from his mouth. She could picture Draco towering over the still form of Blaise Zabini on the ground, his cold steel eyes staring down with distain written in his eyes. She could picture him towering over the boy, straightening his robes and running a hand through his slicked hair, sneering at the form. Hermione almost smiled, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was scared.
She crawled out from underneath the case and scurried back to her window and grabbed her things. She needed to tell Ginny about this, now! What could it possibly mean? A jealous Draco Malfoy, defending her honour against his best friend, it had to mean something. She shuddered at the mental image of a jealous Draco, those dangerous flames in his eyes, the way his mouth twisted downward, it cast a wave of heat through her body.
But she shook her head. Could this be his Veela powers working on her? Could he be using them to charm her into thinking he was chivalrous, rather than the nasty death eater he was? He was a death eater after all, a nasty son of a bitch with a different shag in his bed every night-surely he could want someone like her. Hermione Granger, the bookworm, she wasn’t even his type.
She gathered up her things and headed to the library door, when a lean figure leaning against the wall stopped her. There stood Draco Malfoy in all his glory.
“Zabini gave you a run for your money huh Granger?” he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. She glared, remembering exactly why she wasn’t his biggest fan.
“Sod off Malfoy,” she hissed, “Go shag a fifth year or something.”
“Tell me something,” He called as she walked down the hall to her class. He followed her down the hall and stopped when she did. She did not turn around, but from the good distance between them, she could feel the smirk on his lips.
“How was it, from your side of things, was he really that good?”
“Go to hell,” she hissed dangerously, approaching him closely. She looked at his steel eyes, her face dangerously close to his.
“Oh, I plan to,” he answered nonchalantly. He smirked at her from his stance, “But I need to know, was he really that great?”
Hermione’s face flushed and she looked at the floor.
“Don’t you have to be going to class?” she mumbled. He chuckled.
“Yes,” she answered, turning down the hallway to her next classroom. She had almost reached the corner when he called out for her again.
The silence between them sparked with electricity and anticipation as she waited for him to speak.
The next few words told her that he knew she had heard what had transpired between the pair. He knew that she knew what had happened, and she knew that he knew it now. She gulped down a breath of hysterics, the question filling the air with his deep voice.
“Was he right?”
I want to thank everyone that's been following the story, sorry the last chpter took so long to post, i had to re-submit three times! Anyway thank you for sticking with these and please review! Love you all!