Monthly Archives: February 2020

Dramione, fan fic, Love Is The Darkest Art

Love Is The Darkest Art 30

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Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 49:

Draco Malfoy awoke as if coming out of a long, deep sleep. His grey eyes fluttered open to be looking into the face of a girl with long blonde hair and eyes that seemed nearly haunted as his own. “Daphne? Daphne Greengrass?”

The girl smirked. Another fifth year Slytherin, Daphne was friends with Pansy Parkinson, one of her pureblood girl gang. “Welcome back, Draco. Boy, do you have some explaining to do?”

Shaking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked around the Slytherin common room. Luckily for him, no one else was there except for he, Daphne, and another girl several years younger than them both. “How did I get here?”

“We carried you,” Daphne explained. “Fortunate for us you are much lighter than some of your friends.”

“And we levitated you part of the way,” the other girl added. Draco couldn’t recall if he’d met her before. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and was wearing Slytherin colors.

“Do I know you?”

“This is my sister Astoria,” Daphne explained. “She’s third year. We found you in the floor of the library. In the dark.”

“With a girl on top of you,” Astoria added with a snide tone to her voice. If she were someone he knew, say like Pansy Parkinson, the tone would have been considered jealousy.

“Hermione Granger,” Daphne snickered. “Now that’s embarassing.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “We rolled her off you and left her there.”

“She made a thud,” Astoria said matter-of-factly.

“Was she…alive?”

“Of course she was. Did you think you killed her?”

“No, no. We were attacked. She was in the library. And um, so was I.”

They both looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Not together or anything.”

“Oh,” replied Daphne. “Good. For a moment we thought…”

“No, no, no,” Draco grunted, holding his head. He glanced around the room. “Where is everyone?”

“In the great hall. Umbridge called a meeting of students.”

He frowned. “What for?”

“I heard it was something about banning student gatherings. You know like clubs and stuff like that. We were on the way there when Astoria remembered a book she wanted to check out. Good thing for you. If anyone else would have seen you, they would have thought the wrong thing. But I know there’s no way you would have been hanging out with Granger.”

“No way,” echoed Astoria. “She’s poop.”

Draco laughed. Anything less and it would truly look suspicious. “Yeah, and that hair…”

The sisters laughed at this too, but then a look of concern crossed Daphne’s face. “Who attacked you?”

“I don’t know,” He lied. “I was too busy trying to aggravate the mudblood. Got me from behind with a sleep charm or something.”

“Should we report it?”

“No, I’m going to get this one. No one charms a Malfoy.”

“Except Granger,” Astoria giggled, to which Draco shot her a baleful look.

God, how I hate this girl, he thought. Good thing that about the time I graduate she’ll still be stuck in school and I won’t have to look at her nauseating face every day.

“Funny, ha-ha,” he replied sarcastically, dismissing her. Then he looked at Daphne. “Have you reported that you found me?”

“No,” she said. “Whatever happened is secret and safe with me. With us. We havent seen you. Hope that helps you catch the guy.”

“Yes, helps a lot. Thanks.” He slowly got to his feet, his head still spinning. “Well, we better get to that meeting, shouldn’t we?”

Scene 50:

Hermione sat in the great hall, listening to Dolores Umbridge issuing her amended educational decrees. Her head was still groggy, but she wondered what all this would mean for the future of Dumbledore’s army. Umbridge screwed up everything so much, she wondered if she were in the employ of Voldemort, that perhaps she was the dark lord’s way into the school. He had tried other ways before. Was this just another way to get to Harry and all those on the side of peace and good? And what was with all the attacks on her her lately? I’m no one important, she thought. Not like Harry anyway. Was she just another pawn in this escalating war? A means to get to Potter, or perhaps something not quite as sinister. What had Draco said in the library? Something about Lucius being the one who sent the death eater? How would he have known that anyway? She looked around the room at the various pockets of Slytherins. Draco wasn’t here. Where had he fled to? He just left her laying there in the library to wake up alone. Whatever happened to I’ll protect you forever?

“Well that was pretty redundant,” Ron Weasley whispered next to her as Umbridge dismissed the assembly a few minutes later. “She’d already banned the clubs. Which is why we started…”

“Hush Ron,” Hermione quickly said. “We’re in public. The only thing started is your mouth.”

“Whoa, hey, what did i do? Jeez, Granger…”

“I’m sorry Ron. I’m a little on edge here.”

“Why,” asked Harry, who had been seated beside Ron.

“I dont know,” she replied. “I feel like something big is going to happen.”

“Yeah it will,” Ron replied with a smirk. “If only Harry here works up the nerve to kiss Cho before he turns forty.”

“Shut up, Ron,” Harry muttered.

Hermione looked at Harry and smiled. “Well, I think you should. The opportunity for a good long kiss is a terrible thing to waste.”

Now both boys looked at her, mouths open enough to let houseflies in.

“I mean, that’s what I’ve heard,” she quickly added.

She didn’t see if they ever closed their slack jaws, because at the moment she saw Draco close to the entrance of the hall. With two girls. One had hair almost the same color as Draco’s. She could almost have been his sister. Or soulmate. The other girl was younger with jet black hair, and even from this distance Hermione could see her doe eyed look turned upward to Malfoy. She knew who these girls were of course. They were the Greengrass sisters. Purebloods of famed ancestry. Their family was nearly as self important as the Malfoys. Hermione scowled. Draco had given her a fit for cheek kissing Ron, and here he was just an hour or two after she had fought for her life, cozying up to two bitches….

“Hey Hermione, you okay?”

She swirled to the voice. It was Ron Weasley. For a moment she had a mad, fleeting thought of kissing him on the mouth. No, she told herself. I’ll never do that. No matter how angry or happy I am.

“Yes I’m fine,” she said. She looked away from him and back towards where Draco and his floozies had been. Except Draco wasn’t there anymore. The Greengrass girls looked bewildered too, trying to figure out where he’d gone. She began to look around the room, standing on tiptoe to look over heads taller than she.

“Who you looking for?”

At first she thought it was Potter. But in her heart, as upset as she was, she knew it was Draco, breezing by her in his invisibility cloak, running his long fingers through her hair.

Dramione, fan fic, Love Is The Darkest Art

Love Is The Darkest Art 29

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Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 47:

“Damn, that had to hurt,” a voice said from behind her in the darkness. Hermione spun, already taking aim with her wand when she realized it was Draco. “Looks like I’m a little late to this party,” he added. He shook his head. “Good thing, too.”

She wanted to fling herself in his arms, but she held her ground, waiting to see what his move was going to be. And then the thought came to her. He hadn’t spoken to her in awhile because of the Ron thing, and now suddenly when she’s under attack, he shows up. Why exactly is that, the suspicious side of her wondered. “What brings you here, Malfoy? Here to lend your friend a hand in paying me back?”

She didn’t mean to sound so angry, but in essence she was. Draco had given her hell for pecking Ron on the cheek. He had gotten her boys in trouble, abandoned her, and hadn’t given a care whether she had cried over him constantly since.

“Oh come on, Hermione. You actually think I would attack you, or help someone else to do it? It ticks me off you kissed Ron, but….hey, where’d he go?”

Hermione looked at where her assailant lay on the floor. Except he was no longer there. “Oh no,” she said. “He’s getting away. We have to tell…”

Draco drew his wand and pointed it high in the darkened room. For a moment Hermione thought he was going to put a spell on the ceiling, or more likely restore the lights. Instead he mumbled an incantation that didn’t even sound familiar to her. Where did he learn that, she thought, though she wasn’t even sure what “that” even was. Sparks flew across the top of the ceiling, scattering in all directions. Draco grinned. “There. Let’s see him get through that,” Draco gloated.

Her anger momentarily forgotten, she couldn’t help her curiosity, though she certainly wasn’t ready to forgive him. “What is it?” she asked.

“It seals off all entrances and exits in the room. He can’t get out.”

Suddenly there was a furious sound, like that of a gathering wind, from the front of the library. “Well crap,” Draco muttered. “I think he knows that one. I guess that tells us who sent the eater this time.”

“Who?”

He looked at her with a sorrow in his eyes. “My dad.” And with that declaration, he took off down the aisle towards the entrance.

“Your dad? Draco, wait!”

Hermione took off after him, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. She tried to think of a charm that would help either herself or Draco defeat an experienced death eater. Sure, she had fought back and stopped his attack mere seconds ago, but then she’d had the element of suprise. Now, the villian would be ready.

It was still dark in the room, and she lost sight of Draco within moments. But she could hear the enchanted wind ahead as it built up in its fury. She ran down the aisle and came out in the library atrium to find Draco confronting the death eater. At first it seemed Malfoy had the best of him, holding him nearly immoble with a conjured lasso at least six inches thick. But then the wind threw Draco aside, and the Slytherin crashed on top of a table that cracked beneath him.

“No!” Hermione screamed, and then looked up. The sparks that Draco had sent across the ceiling to trap the death eater in the room were fading. Twinkling out as if the hands of an invisible giant was snuffing out each one like candle. And with that came the same effect on Draco. Pinned to the table top as if a giant foot was crushing him there, Draco coughed and thrashed, the diminishing sparks reflecting in his terrified eyes.

She drew her wand, but the death eater disarmed her easily. She had been right. Now he was prepared. And this time as her wand skidded across the floor, he didn’t grab her from behind. Instead he pointed his own wand, his face distorted in anger. His hand shook as if he were having trouble containing his fury.

“Stupid little girl,” he hissed. He glanced at Draco who now seemed barely conscious. “And little boy.” Another wand materialized in his other hand. “If you were anyone else, you both would be food for the Dark Lord. But as it is, my instructions are simply to deliver a message.”

Draco groaned and tried to sit up.

“Do not move, young Malfoy. Just because you are who you are doesn’t mean I’m forbidden to hurt you.” A quick glare at Hermione. “I am not forbidden to hurt you however. What is forbidden is this. Your little secret rendezvous days are over.”

“You..” Draco started to say, before a flash erupted from the tip of the Death Eater’s wand and sent him into fits of writhing discomfort and pain.

“Shut up and listen, for I will not repeat myself. You have already been told once by those who rule over you. Don’t make them turn to more drastic measures for you to heed their instruction. You will cease from your little trysts with this mudblood.” He looked at Hermione. “And you, little firecat, when you see Draco coming, you best just go the other way. You are not friends. you are not…” He snickered. “Lovers.” With a threatening jab of his wand at Hermione he added, “You are not anything.”

In a quick movement, Draco rolled off the table and attempted to get up. A shower of flame shot from the Death Eater’s wand and his body contorted and twisted, as if an unseen puppeteer were jerking his limbs one way and the other. Draco screamed.

“If I am sent to deal with either of you again, the visit will be fatal. Your instructions are simple. Stay away from each other. Hate each other again as you once did. Anything else is forbidden and will end painfully for both of you if you persist.”

He released Draco from his mad fits and the Slytherin boy collapsed on the ground, still and unmoving. The man turned to take in Hermione with his intense, darkened eyes. “Remember, I can read your thoughts when I am near.” He took a step towards her and she backed away. He kept coming. It was obvious he loved the fear. “There is no way out of this, Miss Granger. You either obey…or you face worse consequences than watching Draco…sleep.”

He directed a wand at Malfoy and there was a quiet hiss that passed from the tip to Draco’s lips. A look of quiet peace passed across the boy’s face. “He truly cant save you now.” He licked his lips. “Another time and I would show you the rewards for those who serve the right side. But as it is, everyone knows you will not change. And so here we are just watching Draco sleep. Sweet dreams.” And with that, he jabbed the wand. It hissed and within seconds she eased to the floor unconscious. The last thing she saw before succumbing to the spell was Draco’s still form, and for a second she wanted to try and crawl to him as they do in the movies when lovers wish to die together.

Scene 48:

Hermione came to with the sensation of someone shaking her. Fighting the grogginess, she opened her eyes to the sight of Cho Chang kneeling over her. The pretty Asian student had a look of fear and worry in her eyes.

“Hermione, please wake up, please,” she was pleading. Another shake helped dislodge the dreary after effects of the spell.

She sat up. “Oh my God,” she muttered, holding her head. She looked around the room, her gaze now becoming desperate. “Where is…” she began, but stopped herself. No one could know she and Draco had been in the library together.

Luckily, Cho didn’t catch it. But the Patil sisters did. They were both standing behind Cho and looking on the scene with horror. “Someone attacked you,” they simultaneously asked.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, with a dizzying nod of her head. “I think it was a Death Eater.”

The three girls looked on her with shock. “A Death Eater?” Cho helped Hermione to her feet. “We have to tell someone.”

Granger shook her head quickly enough. “No,” she said.

“Why not?”

“It will endanger too many people,” she lied. She knew the only ones threatened were she and Draco. Death Eaters would never dream of attacking the whole school. But where was Draco now? Did the Death Eater take him? Or had Malfoy awakened and taken the first step of carrying out the villain’s instructions that he abandon her?
Oh Draco, she thought. Please dont leave me.

Dramione, fan fic, Love Is The Darkest Art

Love Is The Darkest Art 28

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Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 45:

Draco Malfoy passed the dark man on his way to Umbridge’s office. He was already nervous over what he wanted to ask of her. Seeing the tall stranger just made it worse. It was quite obvious he was a death eater. He could see an edge of the identifying tattoo on his forearm, and when he spared a brief look towards Draco, there was a knowing sneer, as if he were gloating over something. Malfoy turned and watched him go around a corner, thinking that despite the changes at Hogwarts, death eaters shouldn’t be here. Your dad is a death eater, a little voice inside his head said. Exactly, Draco replied, before shrugging it off and continuing on his way to see Umbridge.

“You want me to what???” Dolores wasn’t just suprised, she was also offended. And angry.

Draco swallowed hard. “Yes Mrs. Umbridge. Kicking them off the team was awesome punishment, and a stroke of your genius, but if they could have their brooms back, at least they could…”

“Do I need to punish you too? Just whose side are you on? Is your loyalty in question?”

“No mam. I am on the ministry’s…I mean your side.”

She looked at him hard. “I don’t know why you are behaving differently, and more dissapointing I might add, but perhaps you just have too much time on your hands. Maybe you need an extra task or two.”

“Whatever you need me to do,” he replied, hoping at least it would be something to make others fear his position as prefect and Umbridge’s enforcer. He might have changed feelings and attitudes here lately, but inside he was still Draco Malfoy. Troublemaker.

Suddenly the woman’s face lit up, as she turned a note over and over in her hand. “I have just the thing,” she nearly cackled, thinking she could damage two little dragons in one fell swoop. She smiled at Draco. “Go to the library and fetch me this book.” She took the note, folded it, and handed it to him. “Now excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Umbridge.” Draco got up to leave, but she stopped him with a wave of her finger. “I may consider the brooms. Well maybe not Potters. But the others.”

“Thank you. I think Weasley could benefit from having his returned. He’s a terrible player.”

Out in the hall, he thought it could have went worse. Maybe she’d return Ron his broom and help Draco get back in Granger’s good graces. Perhaps he could salvage this after all. Now, what stupid book could the old biddy want?

Draco unfolded the note she had handed him. He noticed right away it wasn’t Umbridge’s writing. It was his father’s. On it were written two words: Hermione Granger.

“Oh no,” he cried, and took off down the hall, thinking of the dark man he had passed earlier. Thats why a death eater was here. For Hermione. Draco wished it were possible to disapparate within the school, but the builders of Hogwarts had chosen to make this one of the spells you couldn’t do inside the halls of education. Instead, he had to rely on speed and hope that he wasn’t too late.

Scene 46:

Hermione was still sitting on the floor in the library, her back against the bookshelf. Luna had left, and now she was alone with her thoghts. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to work it out in her head, how to get Draco to understand the kiss she’d planted on Ron’s cheek meant nothing. Suddenly there was the sound of a door slamming and her eyes shot open. She was in darkness now. Someone had flipped off the lights. Before she could rise to her feet, she heard a clacking sound as if someone were walking in the library with metal tipped shoes. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She withdrew her wand and stood stock still. Whomever it was, she didn’t want them to hear her moving. Something told her this was not right. Someone wanted her at a disadvantage in the darkness. Either that, or they just wanted to scare her. Regardless, it was working. She was frightened. For a moment, she entertained the notion of lighting the room with her wand, but she thought better of it.

The tap, tap, tap continued. Hermione was pretty astute at determing sounds, and so she knew the shoe was a boot worn by someone with a heavy step. Someone who was not a student. The stride between steps signified the stalker was tall, perhaps six foot or more. Could it be Snape? He was tall and older. But why would he be lurking in the library in the dark?

Another rhythmic sound came to her. Snap. Snap. Snap. Someone was snapping their fingers. It sounded in sync with the tap of the boots. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Who’s there?”

Her voice caused the boots to stop, but the finger snapping continued. Rhythmic, sharp, nearly echoing off the rows and rows of books. Oh no, they are in one of the aisles. And then she felt it, a chill through her hair on the back of her neck. That’s why the snapping sounded so sharp. It was right behind her.

She spun, bringing her wand up, but a hand grasped her wrist, squeezing it so hard she dropped her weapon. Now there was no tap, tap, tap. Nor a snap, snap, snap. No, there was a towering man in black before her, his long coat nearly dragging the floor. His eyes were malevolent in the darkness as he held her wrist in his vice like grip. Before she could scream, he covered her mouth with his other hand.

“Hermione Granger,” he hissed, and it sounded almost like question, as if he wasnt sure who she was. She shook her head urgently, and he laughed low in his throat. “Of course you are.” He drew a long fingernail across her brow. “I can hear you in there. All your thoughts, fears, desires.” He chuckled. “I wish someone would save me,” he mimicked in a high girly voice. “Oh Draco my love, where are you?”

Hermione struggled against him, but he only held her tighter. His hand over her mouth kept any scream from being heard. He had read her thoughts as if she were an open book. She hated the intrusion. What kind of defense could you have against this kind of enemy?

“None,” he whispered, hearing it all as if she’d spoken it aloud. “You are a weak, defenseless little child next me. I love that.” A snicker. “It’s funny how your mind goes in hundreds of directions when you are scared. Always expecting, no, always needing someone to intervene and rescue you. So weak is a girl’s will. What would you do without boys?”

A laugh. A snort, then his high girly imitation again. “Oh Draco, I need a man because I’m too worthless to take up for myself.” He leaned close and whispered, “Perhaps you should think like a man. Go for the sex right off the bat to distract your opponent. Use your body as the weapon.”

It was almost sickening. He ws nearly drooling in her ear. Not only was he the enemy, but a freaking pervert to boot. One hand slid dangerously close to her breast. “Come on darling, let me have a squeeze.”

Hermione closed her eyes in a long sigh of seeming surrender. “Okay,” she breathed, and her voice sounded inviting with the promise of…

A scream. Long and anguished, like a beast caught in a trap. Yet it wasn’t hers. She was silent, teeth gritted in determination, her hand squeezing his manhood through his clothes, so hard that it was as if a steel trap had snapped on his lower parts and locked. Hermione twisted her wrist, wrenching him forward in anguish, then slammed her head backwards into his face. There was a crack, but she wasnt sure if it was his nose breaking, or teeth being dislodged from his mouth. All she knew is he was letting go of her.

She dropped to the floor, rolled, and retrieved her wand. “Girls aren’t weak,” she said, as the tip of her wand exploded a shower of sparks towards the man. Any other time and the death eater may have been prepared, but he had underestimated his prey. He’d thought her weak. Defenseless. A girl who would cry in the face of fear. Wrong on all counts. She was Hermione Granger, and she had just hit him with a defensive spell she’d learned last week in lessons with Dumbledore’s army. He dropped like a sack of wet sand and was still.

Dramione, fan fic, Love Is The Darkest Art, Uncategorized

Love Is The Darkest Art 27 v.2

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Paul’s note: Had to re-upload this from yesterday. For some reason, stats and comments weren’t working. But hey, if you read this yesterday, there’s nothing new added to this one, but I sure would like your like again 😉

Love Is The Darkest Art

A Dramione fanfic serial

Scene 42:

Hagrid returned to school, and with him came the snow. With the snow came bitter winds, signaling Christmas was on its way. Hermione had been waiting for the holidays so she could buy Draco a present to show her undying affection, but their last fight seemed to have changed all that. They’d had disagreements before, as all couples do, but until now it had only affected them. This time though, friends had been caught in the middle. Not only had Harry, Fred, and George been kicked off the Quidditch team, they’d had their brooms taken also. She felt so bad about that. They were her friends and because she’d given Ron a good luck cheek kiss, Draco’s jealousy had kicked in full swing and caused her world to fall apart.

It was a few days after Hagrid’s return when Luna found Hermione in the library, crying in the spot where Draco had first kissed her. It seemed like years ago rather than…just how long had it been now? Hermione couldn’t even remember. It was as if once she started to fall in love, all sense of time had ceased. And when she looked up from where she sat in the floor, her back against the towering bookshelf, legs drawn beneath her, time began again.

Luna looked down at her and apologized. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I truly am.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Casting the silencio spell on you. I just wanted you to be quiet before you said too much. I know you want to keep your secret.”

Hermione nodded. “For what it’s worth, thanks. But I don’t think it matters so much anymore. We’re over.”

Luna smirked and shook her head. “Magic has no end. Some spells you just never get over.”

“This one is especially bad.”

“I know. I got it too.” When Hermione looked at her, Luna added, “Not with Draco, of course. He doesn’t really do it for me.”

Granger smiled. “I thought the same thing once. But now…”

“He really does it for you,” Luna finished. “Bad.”

Hermione, realizing she was so close to giving her most secret thoughts a voice, stammered, “Not that bad.”

“Yeah right,” Luna agreed, kneeling in front of her. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell a soul. Even if you forget, I won’t tell.”

Forget? How could she ever forget what she and Draco had been through? The things they’d experienced, the times they’d shared. How could they be lost to memory, save an obliviate spell? Even if she wanted to forget Draco, such a spell would erase far more than that. Professor Gilderoy Lockheart was living proof of that outcome.

“I could never forget,” she said, more to herself than Luna.

“I know I’m not supposed to know, but I can talk to him if you want.”

Hermione shook her head sadly. “No, just leave him alone. It’s obvious that’s what he wants.”

Lovegood shrugged. “It’s your choice. But I don’t care who you are, no one wants to be alone.” She offered a reassuring smile. “He still wants you, you know. Look at you. How could he not? You’re Hermione Granger, Gryffindor dream.”

Coming from anyone else, Hermione would have thought it to be sarcastic, but from Luna it was a genuine statement. And it made Hermione feel better knowing her peers thought she was pretty. Still, what really mattered were not the thoughts of other girls, but the thoughts of her beloved, lost Draco.

Scene 43:

Draco was lost. But not in the way Hermione imagined. No, Draco Malfoy was lost in a dream. Right in the middle of the day. In the Slytherin common room, there was some activity, but not enough to keep him awake. Stuck in a funk he couldn’t get out of (thanks a lot, Hermione), he’d fallen asleep in a cushioned high back chair and slipped off into the world of dreams. For Draco, this was usually a wonderful place, where he picked on those beneath him, or ruled his own island, or was a powerful, and famous, wizard of great importance. But not today. Not here. Instead his dreams were the stuff of nightmares. Death Eaters chased him through his own house, yelling “traitor!” His mother scowled, preparing to send an owl to him, carrying not delicious sweets, but curses for forsaking the family for a mudblood. And then, the worse dream terror of all: Hermione in a passionate embrace with Ron, her tongue shoved halfway down his throat, clutching his bare back with beautifully painted fingernails…

“Hey,” a girl’s voice interrupted. At first he thought it was Hermione within dream, but when the voice spoke again, this time a little more loudly, there was no mistaking the irritating tone of Pansy Parkinson.

His eyes fluttered open, and sure enough, her face was looking down into his. Pansy Parkinson smiled, as if to be this close to him was her every dream. “You have an owl,” she breathed softly, as if what she was really saying had something to do with lust, rather than messages from home.

“No,” Draco said, leading her to wonder if he meant her thoughts or the news. He got up from the chair and brushed past to her where the Malfoy family owl awaited, a tiny rolled parchment attached to its back. He didn’t greet the creature, but removed the scroll and began to unroll it, noticing his father’s perfectly coiled script right away.

Before reading it, he glanced around the room. Nearly every Slytherin was watching. Even his peers knew he rarely got owls from home. He scowled and retreated to his room to read the message, thankful that it wasn’t a howler.

“Draco,” the missive demanded, “as per our previous discussion I thought it was made clear that you would stay away from Mudbloods, in particular one of the female persuasion whose name I will not bother to put in print for the distaste it leaves in my mouth. It has come to my attention that despite your mother’s request, as well as mine, you have continued to be seen in the girl’s company, sometimes in an attempt to do so in secret. Nothing is secret, boy.”

Draco stopped reading for a moment, suddenly aware that his father or his agents may have been spying on him, cataloguing moments that Draco believed had been hidden from prying eyes. Had his father known of the moments shared within the Malfoy mansion, as well as without? He returned to the letter, fearing it’s outcome.

“I will not let a girl, let alone a mudblood, destroy our house or bring our name to ruin. And that’s what will happen if we alow this to continue. She will tear this house in two. She is not a friend, girlfriend, or whatever. Remember she is not pureblood, and as such, she is on the side of the enemy.
Because you have refused to believe this and have repeatedly disobeyed direct orders, it pains me to have to punish you this forcibly, but if YOU will not remove her from your presence, then I will find someone who will.”

Draco thought on this a moment, trying to figure out what this meant. His father’s threat was there and Draco knew he meant what he said. But what did the threat imply? Remove her from my presence? That could mean a great number of things, none of which would be good for Hermione. Draco pulled his wand, uttered words under his breath and watched the message light afire. It burned up in his hand, its edges crumpling inward until it was just ashes in his palm. He rose to his feet, tall and resolute. No one was taking Hermione from him.

He walked back into the main room of Slytherin. Once again, all eyes were upon him. Crabbe and Goyle stood up. The pair seemed to be ready to offer support in whatever news his Owl had delivered. But they couldn’t help in this, thought Draco. “Sit down,” he told them. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He passed by Pansy Parkinson, and lay a hand on her shoulder. “Thank You,” he said, and before she could ask a bewildered question, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed, and he laughed a little under his breath. Hermione was right. It didn’t mean nothing. He didn’t feel a thing for Pansy, just as she didn’t feel a thing for Ron. He had made a mistake, several in fact. And now he was going to fix them. Hopefully before his father found out the real truth that all the spies in the world couldn’t tell him. He was helplessly in love with the enemy.

Scene 44:

The man stood in front of Umbridge’s desk, silent and somehat menacing. Dolores had nothing to fear from any of Hogwart’s students, but this visitor wasn’t a child. He was a messenger. A death eater. And as she read the note he handed her, she didnt know whether to smile or be fearful. Finally she looked up into the man’s cool eyes and said in a grim tone, “You have fifteen minutes.”

The man nodded, his face almost blank, as if he were no longer there, but seeking out his prey in his mind.