Fallen: A Thwarted Love Story, 7/12

[bleedingangel84]

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Chapter 7: Secret Lovers

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The weeks following Draco’s reconciliation with Hermione were some of the happiest ever in the Slytherin’s short life. Finding time to spend with one another was difficult for the newly reunited couple as the term progressed. Harry and Ron had quickly become suspicious of Hermione’s claims that she was simply asking Professor Snape questions about the days’ lessons. Everyone in Gryffindor knew that the bitter Professor loathed anyone who wore Gryffindor colours, and had to wonder what Hermione was really doing. Thanking Hermione would confide in them when she was ready to, Harry and Ron promised within themselves to stay out of Hermione’s business. Whatever it was she had been doing did not seem to be hurting her, and she seemed almost to glow as time went on.

 

And so, life went on more or less uninterrupted in Gryffindor House, with Harry and Ron attempting for Hermione’s sake to squelch their increasing curiosity about their friend’s clandestine activities. Harry’s obsession with finding out the truth about Draco was growing worse as the months wore on, forcing the couple to find new and more inventive ways to hide their budding relationship, and putting Hermione in constant worry that their secret would be found out.

 

Gryffindor’s thrice weekly Quidditch practices became a much needed relief for the pair, as Harry’s position of team captain forced him to keep his mind on training and not on the youngest Malfoy’s supposed alliance with the Dark Lord. The pair was taking advantage of one such occasion by making use of the empty Slytherin common room to spend some coveted time alone together, which the circumstances of their relationship did not often allow.

 

“Draco, if one of your mates comes in and sees the two of us like this,” Hermione wondered, “won’t they take offense to it?” The couple was curled together on one of three reptilian green couches strategically placed in front of the blazing fireplace to protect the occupants from the chill of the drafty dungeons. “They won’t see us if they come in, love, I promise. I put a Cloaking Spell on the furniture.” He winked at her, giving a seductive smirk.

 

“Well, aren’t you satisfied with yourself?” Hermione teased. There was a smile in her golden brown orbs that almost made Draco want to purr with contentment, Slytherin code of honor be damned. He almost swore he turned into a Hufflepuff when he was around Hermione, and gladly. He wanted to grab at the happiness she was offering with both hands and never let it go. Every day, he felt more pressure to complete his mission to kill Voldemort, and it was getting increasing difficult to maintain his charade of support for the half-blood madman. Consciously dragging his thoughts away from dark forebodings, he pulled Hermione close, kissing her until they were both breathless.

 

Pulling her arms from about his neck, Hermione slowly began to unbutton Draco’s shirt, using her hands to massage his chest softly as she went. Lost in the pleasurable sensations her ministrations created in him, it wasn’t until Hermione almost had his shirt completely off that the thought of his Dark Mark entered his mind, forcing him to halt her motions. A look of hurt was apparent on her face as he wrenched away from her in reaction.  “Draco, what’s wrong? Is it something I did?” she asked.

 

Anxious to calm her worries, as well as avoid her inevitable look of betrayal and disgust that would result from seeing his Dark Mark, Draco quickly concocted a plausible explanation for the violence of his involuntary response.  “No, Hermione. I assure you, it was nothing you did. I loved every minute that you’ve ever touched me,” he said sincerely. He noted with relief that the nervous anxiety was disappearing from her eyes at his words. “I’m sorry. A few days ago in Care of Magical Creatures, we were working with those disgusting Blast-Ended Skrewts again, and I happened to get burned. Madame Pomfrey healed it straight away, but she said the skin might be a bit sensitive if someone were to touch it, or if clothes rubbed against it. When you moved to take my shirt off, it started to burn, that’s all.”  He punctuated his explanation with nibbling kisses to her lips, relieved that she did not seem inclined to question him. Ecstatically, he felt her beginning to melt once again into his kisses. “Now,” he breathed heavily, “where were we?”

 

*      *       *

 

Harry Potter woke from his bed that night with his scar throbbing heavily, pounding in counterpoint to the rapid thudding of his heart. As his obsession with Malfoy had grown, nightmares and visions from Voldemort had increased tenfold.  He knew, deep in his gut that there was something Malfoy was hiding. He might lay no claim to an association with the Death Eaters, but the dreams and visions showed him differently. The question was: why was he bothering to hide it? He had always been a braggart concerning his family’s position with the Dark lord in the past. What had changed to make him so closed-mouthed now? What did he have to lose? Almost aching with heightened interest, Harry quickly donned his Invisibility Cloak, intending to make his way toward the Room of Requirement. He had to know.

                                   

*       *       *

 

 

Hermione and Draco made their way back from the Slytherin dungeons as quickly as they could, neither of them having any desire to be caught and punished by Filch and his creepy cat. “You are a bad influence on me, Draco Malfoy,” Hermione teased laughingly, “I don’t think I’ve ever stayed out of bounds this late before.” Her hair and clothing was disheveled as it had never been before, and there was a satisfied sigh at the end of her words. “It was worth it though, wasn’t it, Granger?” Draco rejoined, “I certainly didn’t hear you complaining.” Draco wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her snugly against his body, allowing his lips to trail a hot path down her neck to her pulse point. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, “this was more than worth it.”  The couple standing outside the Gryffindor portrait hole was so caught up in one another that neither registered  Harry’s choked gasp as his Invisibility Cloak fell to the ground.