ACA: Chapter 27 and 28

Chapter 27

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."
~Alfred Lord Tennyson

After returning to Hogwarts, the weeks that followed were extremely busy. All the professors seemed determined to make them exercise their brains in preparation for the coming exams. Even Hermione, much as she loved to learn, was feeling stressed by the amount of pressure.  It didn’t help that she was taking three extra classes.

There wasn’t a moment when Draco didn’t see her with her nose buried in some textbook or muttering spells under her breath as she briskly walked to class. It was stressful just being around her these days and Harry and Ron, who were all too aware of her moods, made sure to give her a wide berth whenever they ventured in her company.

Draco tried to give her space as well-she didn’t take notice of him these days anyways. Their dorm common room was littered with open textbooks and pieces of parchment blotted with ink. Her notes were everywhere when she wasn’t pouring over them.

Draco couldn’t wait till the exams were over. He wanted to pull her into his arms again and kiss her till she melted. He had never been the physical sort, hating it when other people touched him, but he wanted to feel her soft lips and hands roaming over him. He wanted to taste her and smell her hair.

Draco shook his head out of the clouds and blinked at his Transfigurations notes. He was in the library, trying to get some studying done till lunch. The library was packed with NEWT students cramming, grumbling, and whispering spells.

Draco leaned back in his seat and momentarily closed his weary eyes. Professor Snape had told him not to become too stressed, but his nerves were shaky at best. He wasn’t too worried about his exams really. He wondered what good they would do him in the long run anyways.

Given his past, Draco’s job prospects looked bleak and even if he did decided to study, he doubted he would get the chance to finish whatever he chose to start before the disease consumed him.

He sighed and pulled his notes closer, ignoring the fatigue that made his limbs feel weak as he leaned over on his elbows and frowned in concentration.

“Mind if I sit here?” Draco looked up, startled to find Weasley towering over him.

“Everywhere else is full,” the tall boy sheepishly explained and Draco mutely nodded, making room on the table as Weasley slid into the seat across from him.

“Where’s Potter?” Draco asked, having noticed the two were inseparable.

“Hermione’s helping him with a Charm’s spell. They’re in the Gryffindor Common Room.”

“Oh.”

They both fell silent. Weasley pulled out his Potions work and sat frowning at the textbook, occasionally blotting something down and muttering things. Draco tried to concentrate on his own work, but it was hard. He didn’t feel like studying and his mind felt numb. It was an unfortunate side effect of all the pain potions, this lack of concentration. The professors, who had been informed of his predicament, had generously granted him a half hours extra time on each exam, but Draco wondered if it would help.

“What in Godric’s name does this mean?” Weasley suddenly cried, turning the book and thrusting it in Draco’s direction.

Draco debated for a fraction of a second whether to sneer or not, but then he thought better of it and leaned over to examine the problem. It was the chapter on potions that tampered with a person’s dream and mental states.

After skimming the chapter, Draco looked up. “What don’t you get?”

Weasley, who was scowling either at his own lack of understanding or Draco’s casual acceptance, replied, “Everything. I don’t bloody understand how to study for this subject. There aren’t any spells to memorize-only a hundred thousand recipes. How does he expect us to remember everything, that bloody Snake!”

Draco smiled, amused. “You don’t have to memorize everything. Just understand what things are used for and know what the properties are. If you get that, then it’s not hard to know what goes in a certain potion. Bit like cooking, you know?”

Weasley gave him a half mortified, half bemused look. “I can’t believe you gave me a straight answer and talked about something as normal as cooking in one sentence, Malfoy. I reckon ‘Mione’s rubbing off on you.”

Draco merely inclined his head. “Have you finished the other subjects then?”

“Sort off. I’m not that worried about them-only this and Transfigurations really. You?”

He sighed. “I’m getting along.”

Weasley scrutinized him for a second and Draco dropped his gaze to his book, not wanting to see pity or concern in Weasley’s eyes for him.

“You know, ‘Mione’s great help when it comes to studying. I can’t believe you two haven’t holed up together.”

He shook his head. “She makes me nervous.”

Weasley snorted. “I get that-she’s a ball of stress isn’t she?” And there was a fondness in his voice that clenched at Draco’s heart. He bit his lips.

They returned to their books and studied in silence till it came time for lunch. Weasley actually waited for him till he finished packing and they headed down to the Great Hall together, parting ways at the entrance with a simple nod that confirmed the silent truce at long last.

**

Draco wiped his mouth with a shaky hand as he threw up for the fourth time that day. It was getting worse and with the exams looming, the tense atmosphere was grating on his thin nerves.

“Draco!” He heard Hermione come in.

“In here,” he weakly called back, washing his mouth over the sink.

“Are you alright?”

He looked at her reflection in the mirror, noting how her brown eyes sported just a dot of fear.

He nodded, giving her a thin smile. “Taking a break?” he asked, changing the subject as he led her out of the room.

She sighed. “For a bit-Ginny dragged me out of the library and Harry hid my books so I’ve got no choice.”

Draco laughed. “You must be the first person in history who enjoys studying so much.” He took her hand in his, tracing her knuckle with thin fingers. She reached out and played with the strands of blonde tresses that fell on his lapel.

“I have to. If I want to become something-someone-I have to study,” she replied.

“Why do you try so much?” he softly asked. What are you trying to prove?

She looked into his eyes, her own unsure, before leaning into his chest. “I never thought I would survive the war,” she whispered. “Every day, there were new fears to face. We were constantly on the run, but now that it’s over, I feel like I can finally breathe.” She looked up, her lips hovering below his.

“I’ve learned to cherish my time from this, Draco. I don’t want to waste anything I’ve been given-not this opportunity to learn or to be with you or to hang out with the others. I’m not going to squander any of this.”

He smiled and pecked her lips. “You’re doing a mighty good job, you know that? I bet the Minister’s going to come to our coronation with your test scores.”

She huffed, but didn’t mind his teasing. She knew she had been neglecting him, but she was glad he understood, although a little surprised at his meek acceptance. Standing on her tip-toes, she kissed him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pressed her against him.

He was warm, his breath minty. She bit his lip lightly before taking his wrist and pulling him to the bed. He followed her without question, reclining down on his back as she straddled him and their lips reconnected.

He ran his hands up and down her slender arms, feeling the soft skin, smelling the flowery scent of her hair as it cascaded around them in a brown curtain. He arched into her kiss and heard her moan as their lips intertwined.

She broke away abruptly only to pull her jumper over her head and toss it to the ground before resuming the kiss. Draco clutched her petite waist to steady her as he sat up, deepening their kiss and pushing her onto her back so that he was on top.

Leaning down, he attacked her neck, smothering it with his lips and tongue, teeth. She threw her head back, her fingers fumbling impatiently with his shirt buttons. Draco let it slide off his shoulders before throwing it next to her jumper.

Before long, the carpet was littered with their discarded clothes and the bed creaked lightly under their weight. Her moans and needy whimpers filled the room.

“Draco,” she whispered, cradling his face in her hands and looking at his hooded eyes. “I want you.”

He stilled above her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“But what about-“ But she pressed her fingers against his swollen lips.

“I took care of it. Ginny…”

He nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He was as nervous as she was and his shallow pants joined her nervous breaths.

She lay still beneath him, waiting with abated breath. When he pressed against her heat, she gasped, and closed her eyes. Draco, for his part, was watching her every expression, concentrating hard to be gentle and not rush. She had never done this before.

Her hands grasped his biceps at the first intrusion, her nails clawing his skin. Draco leaned down and gently teased her neck to distract her from the pain, but the tears followed nevertheless.

He bit back his own urge as he forced himself to move slowly. Soon enough, her legs snaked around his waist, pushing him further until she demanded more. He complied easily enough.

By the time it was done, both were panting as though they had run a marathon. Draco slid next to her, utterly spent, his breath ragged. She turned on her side to rest her head on his chest, listening to his mad heart beat as it raced in time with her own.

“Are you alright?” he asked when he had caught his breath.

She smiled at him and nodded. “More than ever.”

Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her warmth seeping into him and her soft body pressed against his. He felt her fingers trace his lips lightly.

“Tired?” she softly asked.

“Mmm…” Her fingers were soothing. He turned towards her touch and felt her laugh lightly.

As his mind drifted, he heard the rustle of blankets before they enveloped him and he pulled her close, pressing his face against her chest before giving in to Sleep.

Chapter 28

“One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.”

~Steven Deitz (American Playwright)

The exams came sooner than anyone would have liked. Hermione, who had spent the whole day before worrying, muttering, and rereading notes was still worried that she had missed something. Harry and Ron told her she was delusional, and Draco secretly agreed. He, like the rest of the school, had no doubt she would pass with flying colors and more.

For his part, Draco wasn’t so worried. He had done what he could and given his circumstances, that was all anyone could ask of him. They arrived for their first exam at 7 o’clock Monday morning and were done with the last around noon on Friday.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief after it was over, but none more so than Hermione who was smiling for the first time in weeks. Draco found he missed her smile.

It was a beautiful afternoon as well, winter having thawed and spring blooming its way towards summer. The odd group spent the rest of the day lazing about by the lake, eating cakes and throwing bits to the giant squid rumored in the waters.

With their exams done, they had nothing to do the last weeks, but the professors had career meetings planned. They had scheduled times with their Head of House to possible explore options they had after graduating.

Hermione was brimming with prospects and Harry and Ron had their hearts set on becoming Aurors. Draco smiled outwardly, but inside he stirred with disappointment. He dreaded the meeting with Snape.

Since his diagnosis, the professor had been strangely accepting of him, although he still looked at him with some form of wariness. There was a softness in his eyes that Draco hadn’t seen since he was a boy.

“Hello Professor,” he greeted as he stepped into the dingy office, pulling a chair.

Snape, who was pouring over rolls of parchment, looked up and gave him a nod. He stared at Draco down his crooked nose until the blonde squirmed in his seat.

“Well? What options do I have?” he asked at last, giving the man a tight smile that conveyed his discomfort nevertheless.

Never a man to beat around the bush, Severus decidedly replied, “Not many, though it mustn’t come as a surprise to you.”

Draco sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyways. Even if someone is delusional enough to hire me, I doubt I’ll be able to work.”

He fingered the arm of the chair, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. “It’s getting worse. I…I’m sure I’ll have to go to the hospital soon.”

“Have you told your mother?” and Snape’s voice was so quiet-almost gentle- that Draco met the man’s eyes, which blatantly betrayed concern and for him nevertheless! For a moment, Draco wondered if he should ask why the man cared, but he held his tongue, knowing how short-tempered his Head of House was.

“I plan to-before I return home.”

“I think it’s best if you tell her in person.” There was no telling what state the woman would work herself into given her delicate disposition.

Draco knew that much, but he didn’t want to see her expression when he broke the news. He had had enough of her tears and hysterics during the war. He didn’t want to be the cause of it again now.

Snape, who seemingly understood his dilemma, asked, “Would you like me to inform her?”

Draco didn’t reply immediately, wondering again why the man was being so nice. When Draco didn’t answer, Snape pressed, “It’s not your fault, Draco.”

And Draco wondered whether the man referred to the disease or what had happened during the war. “I-I know you’re busy-“

“I am your Head of House. It’s my duty to correspond with the parents should the need arise.”

He nodded then, licking his lips. “Well, thank you then. I’d like that.”

Severus gave him a tight nod. Draco rose to go. He was almost at the door when Severus stopped him.

“Draco, should you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

A little surprised, but grateful nevertheless, Draco gave him a thin smile and a quick nod. He was out the door before his nerves betrayed any more emotion.

**

“Are you going to see your mum?” Hermione asked as they lay side by side late in the evening.

“Hm…I’ll have to,” Draco replied, tracing the faint lights in the ceiling which were vaguely spinning.

She turned on her side and propped herself on her elbow, smiling down at him, her brown hair seeming to glow in the golden light. She trailed soft fingers up his naked torso, stopping to trace his lips, red from their recent ravishing.

“You’re not tired?” he asked, snapping his jaw. She giggled, withdrawing her fingers only to card them through his tousled hair.

“Insatiable nymph,” he murmured when she leaned down for a kiss. He kissed back hungrily and soon they were once again entwined in each other’s arms, the bed groaning under their antics.

Draco was a silent lover, only gasping occasionally, but Hermione made up for him with her breathy moans and pleas for more. She really was insatiable, something Draco found quite amusing, if not a bit apprehensive.  

“Oh, Draco,” she whispered when he slid atop her, panting hard, their bodies gleaming with sweat.

She held his head against her chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart in time with her own. She couldn’t remember how many times they had made love in the weeks following the exams. It was as though, after the first time, there was an invisible magnet that seemed to always pull them together, craving more each time.

She couldn’t get enough of him and he was equally eager to devour her. They had both been in bed since yesterday and hadn’t left the room save for a quick snack in the dorm kitchen. He had been unusually attentive in the past weeks and more than once, she had caught him staring at her wistfully, almost sadly.

She knew he was hiding something from her, but she was loathed to press him. He wouldn’t let her ask questions anyway, choosing instead to silence her with his lips. So they tip-toed around the issue and distracted themselves with each other.

Draco idly traced her rosy neck with his eyes. He was exhausted. She spoke softly to him-no…she was humming some far off melody that he couldn’t quite make out because of the invisible muffs on his ears. Her touch was very light as she chaffed his arms, holding him close. He could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck.

Draco closed his eyes, blocking out the dizziness, and concentrated on her sweet voice. He wanted to curl around her, mold her pliant body to his, but his limbs felt heavy. She gently turned him on his back instead and he saw her hovering over him, looking worried.

He smiled and her lips twitched into a faint smile as well. I’m alright, he mouthed because he couldn’t seem to get his voice to work. She read his lips and gave him a small nod, brushing back his damp hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We should take it slow…”

But he shook his head. He needed this- he needed her. Reaching out a trembling arm, he brushed her rosy cheeks and tugged her hair so that she leaned down. Closing the small gap between them, he crushed his lips to hers and pulled her down with him.

They hardly slept that night. They hardly even spoke, too busy exploring each other over and over again. Draco’s hands worshipped every inch of her body, his eyes dark with lust, intent on mapping her every contour.

She couldn’t understand his sudden hunger, but she hardly complained. She let her hands roam his flat planes, trace the angles in his face, and cradle his strong jaw.

When Dawn found them, they were tangled in a single sheet, limbs intertwined and their bodies molded as though one. You couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

**

He knew what he had to do. He had made up his mind after his stay at the Weasleys. Draco hated suffering-he had seen too much of it-and the last thing he wanted was to inflict it again on someone he held dear.

Those around him seemed to suffer. It was true during the war he had seen it in his parents’ haunted faces and it was true now that the disease was consuming him. He loved her without a doubt and that’s why-that’s why he had to do it.

He had to leave.

**

Hermione remembered that day vividly. She remembered coming too from a sleep deeper than any she had had since the war. She remembered smiling when she thought of yesterday and the feel of the hard, pale limbs and surprisingly soft lips. She remembered reaching out in blind sleep and fumbling for his form, but her fingers grabbed air.

She remembered sitting and searching for him groggily, calling his name, walking around in all her naked glory down the sunlit stairs. She remembered panicking when he was nowhere to be found. Her breath caught in her throat when she failed to find his shoes, books, trunk…Everything was gone…He was gone.

She couldn’t remember anything after. Her own cries still echo dimly in her ears. Voices she can’t place float in and out of her consciousness, begging, crying, coaxing…but she doesn’t understand.

At times, there are arms around, but she is all too aware of their unusual strength. They aren’t bony-not slender. And the smell is different. He smelled like warm coffee and cream and chocolate…

She knows she is crying-the tears are never ending, but there is always someone to support her, cradling her in their arms, brushing back her hair, wiping her nose…She tries to push them away, but they refuse to budge. The arms tighten around her, the voice drops to a soothing murmur, and she listen as they rock her.

“It’ll be alright, ‘Mione. We’ll find him-he can’t have gone too far. We’ll bring him back, you’ll see. It’ll be alright-you’ll be alright…” She vaguely recognizes the voice and she trembles. He had always been there when she most needed him-through the war and now, after. She clung to him for dear life, feeling guilty for using him, but knowing that she would fall without his embrace. And he let her.

Ron Weasley cradled her as she wept.