Summary: Enjoying the snow at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger runs into an unwanted visitor. But what he has to say may save her life--and his soul.
Due to disagreements with the moderators about how Draco is portrayed in this story, I will not be completing this story. I apologize.
Categories: Hermione/Draco Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: No
Word count: 3421
Read: 8160
Published: 12/15/05
Updated: 07/07/06
1. A Christmas Kiss by badonkadonk
2. Bloody Hell by badonkadonk
3. Phoenix Flames by badonkadonk
A Christmas Kiss by badonkadonk
Author's Notes:
One winter's day, Hermione is confronted by Draco.
Snow had fallen on Hogwarts, creating a white blanket of wonder. Ice crystals hung from the castle turrets, glistening like glittered ice-cream cones. Birds chirped on occasion, as if creating their own form of Christmas music. For Hermione Granger, it was bliss. Freedomâ”from everything. Silence.
Hermione had awoken that Christmas day to find the castle blanketed, slumbering in peace. Arising from her bed, she threw off her red and gold covers-Gryffindor colors, of course-and immediately bundled up. Opportunities of peace and comfort rarely came in these days of war. Grabbing a quick bite from the Great Hall, she wandered outside. Ahhh, she thought, finally, a moment for me.
Suddenly, a snowball plummeted through the air. With a graceful arc, the snow reacted to gravity and thundered down, landing itself in Hermioneâs hair.
âOw!â Hermione exclaimed in shock. Her hands automatically went to her hair, brushing the snow out of it. âWho did that?â Turning around slowly, her heart plummeted. So much for peace. A young man leaned on a tree insolently, smirking as he brushed the snow off his hands.
âWhat do you want, Malfoy? If you canât see, I`m busy.â
âNow, now, Granger. Where are your manners? Oh, yes, I forgot, you donât have manners. Well, I suppose I could hardly expect muggles to raise their offspring in the proper ways of decorum,â were the words that came from the beautiful aristocratâs mouth. The mouth arced gracefully, forming a perfected smirk-from years of use and practice, no doubt.
Hermione watched his pink mouth, fascinated. Such a perfect mouth, ruined by ugly words. âWell, I hate to inform you, Draco,â she spat, âBut you were the one to start this tĂȘte-Ă -tĂȘte. So unless you have a reason for this conversation, I suggest you sod off.â
The boy smiled, a real smile. Hermione frowned in confusion. She had never seen the boy smile before, really smile. Yes, smirks, and yes, snarls, but a real smile, no. The boy saw the direction her eyes were looking at, and his gray eyes twinkled, turning an ice-silver, matching the icicles on the castle turrets perfectly. âWell, Granger, to be honest, I have a little⊠information, I suppose, that may help out Pothead. But if you really feel that my presence is too painful for you to bear, I suppose I could just leave and let the Death Eaters have their fun with himâŠâ Turning around gracefully, Draco shrugged his shoulders. Hermione watched the boyâs silver hair move towards the castle doors.
âWait!â Hermione shouted, running towards him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him around and looked directly into his eyes. âWhat is it that you have to tell me?â
Dracoâs eyes looked intently at Hermione- so much that she almost felt the heat between them. Grabbing her arm, he began speaking rapidly. âThe Dark Lord has figured out Potterâs been going after the Horcruxes. Heâs set up an ambush for the next horcrux Potter will be going for--tonight. Most of the Death Eaters will be there-you have to tell him, Hermione. Or elseâŠThe Boy Who Lived wonât be alive for much longer. Which would be dreadfully ironic.â
Hermioneâs lips formed a perfect âOâ. Now, it was the boyâs turn to look at her lips in fascination. So pinkâŠso beautifulâŠso much like the girl in front of him. Suddenly, his brain snapped back into attention, focused on the girlâs reply.
âWhy are you telling me this?â was the reply from the girlâs mouth.
Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course the Gryffindor Princess wasnât about to take the advice of the boy who helped kill Dumbledore.
âHermione,â the boy paused, surprised at how easily her name came out of his mouth, âIâve killed before. Thereâs no glory in it, no purpose. Murderers- thatâs all the Death Eaters are. This Christmas,â he paused again, considering his words, âI was left here to lure you into a trap. One third of the trio, left all alone at Hogwarts because her parents are dead and her friends are off fighting! But I`m sick of this war. Thereâs no point. I read muggle literature--big surprise, I`m sure, but I do, and Iâve read about this man named Hitler. He was just like Lord Voldemort. He wanted to eliminate all people except one type- a type he wasnât. And he ended up miserable, so much that he committed suicide. All his followers had been tricked. Just like Iâve been tricked. And I hate being fooled.â
âSo do I. Thank you,â she hesitated, unsure of whether to say the word she wanted to. âDraco.â
âYouâre welcome,â the boy replied. Taking her head softly between his hands, he bent his head and kissed her forehead. âHappy Christmas, Granger.â
With a twirl of his robes, he was gone, leaving a stunned Hermione Granger staring after him.
---------
Author Note: Yay! I just love happy//cliffy endings. What did you think? Review pretty please...the more you review, the faster I`ll update!
Bloody Hell by badonkadonk
Author's Notes:
Hermione reveals Draco's proposal to Ron and Harry.
Spring had slowly crept into Hogwarts, bringing with it blue jays and robins twittering about, bringing songs of hope into the hearts of the remaining Hogwarts students. Trees opened up their leaves, embracing the heavens, and flowers of an array of colors had scattered the lawns. Students were seen more commonly outside, although certainly not too far away from the main entrance. The schoolâs population had dwindled, of course, but most students had stayed, knowing that knowledge was the sharpest sword of the battle.
Winter passed without any more interaction between Hermione and Draco. Hermione had hoped to talk to him more after their conversation, but it seemed as if Draco was avoiding her. He shot out of Ancient Runes each day seemingly quicker than if he was one his broomstick. He always sat facing away from Gryffindor table, and he never, ever walked down the corridors without someone walking with him, making it seemingly impossible for Hermione to communicate with him without drawing attention. However, Hermione still felt his presence. Sometimes, if she was walking down a corridor alone, she would sense that someone was watching her. Whenever she would whip around quickly to catch the person, no one would be there, but she knew it was Draco. It was as if Hermione had a new guardian angel, one that never showed its face.
One day in early March, Hermione strolled purposefully towards her haven, the library. Harry had sent her a letter requesting information on Banshees and how to avoid their deadly screams, and Hermione had dutifully grabbed her quill and rolls of parchment to begin her research. Harry had survived his December horcrux ambush, while managing to stun two Death Eaters in the process and throw them into Azkaban. He and Ron had wanted to know where Hermione had gotten her information on the attack, but she adamantly refused- no one in the Order trusted Draco Malfoy, and Hermione didnât want anyone turning down perfectly good information because of a supposedly ârottenâ source. Hermione was walking and pondering Draco Malfoy when a hulking shadow stepped in her way. Startled, Hermione stopped in her tracks. âDraco?â She tried to stop her mouth from twisting into a smile; speak of the devil.
âHello, Hermione. First name basis still?â Draco Malfoy smiled slightly, obviously pleased Hermione hadnât reverted back to surname basis. Grabbing her elbow slightly, he guided her into an empty classroom, setting her into a chair. Locking the door with a series of spells, he too took a seat and looked at her silently.
Hermione felt a slight blush color her cheeks; she wasnât use to such scrutiny. Dracoâs gaze seemed much more piercing than anyone elseâs. Ronâs always seemed like a puppy dogâs, admiring her as if she was a dog bone with sprinkles on top. And Harryâs gaze was always tinged with sadness, seemingly weighed down with the weight of the world. Hermioneâs thoughts began to wander, thinking of all of her acquaintanceâs gazes, until Dracoâs voice broke her thoughts.
âI have a new assignment.â
Hermione looked up, startled. She knew Draco was a Death Eater, not as prominent as some, but certainly powerful. And if Draco had an assignment, it meant Voldemort was plotting again. Her ears strained to hear every word.
âEver since Snape was found to be a traitor to the Dark Lord-â
Hermione winced. Anyone who referred to Voldemort as the Dark Lord was instinctively bad. And yet she knew Draco would not be telling her anything if he was.
â-The Dark Lord has been desperate for information on the Orderâs activities. We have nothing. We donât know where your headquarters are, we donât know how much you know- nothing. And seeing as most of our Death Eaters have been declared Enemies of the Ministry for years and they canât show their faces, let alone befriend the Order, new recruits are the only options as spies.â Here he paused, apparently savoring the words. âHermione Granger, meet the new Order of the Phoenix hopeful.â
Jaw dropping, Hermione threw him an incredulous look. âYou? Trying to be a member of the Order? Impossible. Theyâll never accept you! Most likely theyâll try to kill you the moment one of them sees you!â
âThatâs where you come in, my dear. Seeing as Iâve already proven myself a follower of the light, whatever that rubbish phrasing implies, I donât think your morals will be too shaken trying to help me. See, you will tell the Order that Iâve approached you, asking your help. Youâll simply explain to the Order that the Dark Lord had tricked me. He threatened to kill my mum and dad if I didnât attempt to kill Dumbledore. Since then, Iâve been filled with grief, and am willing to spy for the Order. And the brilliant part about the plan is that I really will be spying for the Order! Itâs You-Know-Who that will be tricked, thinking I`m spying for him!â
Hermione attempted to absorb all the information at once. It was a brilliant plan, really, and the Order was always desperate for more information on Voldemortâs whereabouts. The only obstacle would be to convince everyone that Malfoy was truly good, and surely they would accept him if Hermione did.
âOkay, Malfoy. Youâve got a deal.â
---
âNo. Bloody. Way!â Ron Weasley was pacing number twelve Grimmauldâs place, his fiery hair matching his mood. âMalfoyâs the prick whoâs been torturing us all these years! Heâs been born to follow You-Know-Who! Thatâs his entire purpose of life, Hermione! Are you bloody insane?â
Hermione drew herself up, offended by Ronâs crude phrasing. âNo, I`m not insane, Ron. In fact, I`m being perfectly logical, and youâd realize that if youâd simply put aside your bitter past for a moment.â
Ronâs face burst into a lovely shade of magenta. Harry, on the other hand, had been staring into his lemonade pensively, occasionally stirring his drink.
âHarry? What do you think of my plan?â
âWellâŠâ here Harry looked remorsefully at Ron, as if apologizing, âI do remember Malfoy hesitating on the tower that night. I really donât think he would have killed Dumbledore if he had the chance. And we are desperate for information,â here Harry looked at Ron as if to say, âsorry mateâ.
âButâŠ. but Hermione, how do we know if heâs trustworthy? Every good lie does have a thread of truth! He could just be feeding this to you!â
âTrue, Ron, but I know we can trust him. Do you remember the tip I gave you last December that your Horcrux mission was compromised? Well, Malfoy told me that.â Here she bit her lip, hoping a complete outburst could be avoided. She sighed inwardly with relief that she hadnât said âDracoâ; she didnât think either boy could handle the first name transition with grace.
Two shocked faces stared at her. Awkward, heavy silence filled the room. Finally, Harry spoke slowly.
âHermione. You could have gotten us killed then.â
âBut you werenât! Thatâs the brilliant part; weâve already gotten proof that heâs on our side! Heâs already been initiated!â
Ron managed to shut his mouth. âFine, Hermione. Even though I still think heâs a nasty little ferret-â both boys snickered at the phrasing â-weâll take him. But even one minor slip-up, one tiny indication heâs still dark at heart, heâs out of here. In pieces.â
Hermione nodded. She would take the compromise; it was worth it in her opinion. At least the boys were threatening to kill Draco after he messed up instead of before.
âGreat. I`ll tell him. You can tell the rest of the Order.â Sitting up, she kissed both boys on the cheek (Ron turned an even brighter magenta), and taking a pinch of Floo powder, she shouted, âHogwarts, Headsâ common place!â and she was gone.
âBloody hell.â
Phoenix Flames by badonkadonk
Author's Notes:
Draco is initiated.
Scotland summers always came late; spring was its favorite season. This year, however, it seemed as if the earth was punishing mankind of disrupting its peace. Scorching weather assailed London and Scotland alike, pushing all wizards and Muggles to eagerly congregate indoors, relieved at the cooler temperatures. Flowers wilted; birds spent their time swimming or laying in the shade. For Hermione, the weather was a welcome change. It meant that the Hogwarts school year was over.
Normally, Hermione felt remorse at another year past. Three months of not learning was quite a depressing thought to her. This year, however, she was eager to finish the term, and the entire schooling process (for now, at least); the Order needed her, and she didnât need exams muddling her thoughts in these times of strategizing and intelligence collecting. Her future after graduation was something that could wait until Voldemort was defeated.
Dracoâs initiation into the Order had been set for the twenty-fourth of June. There was a bit of irony to this date, as two years before, Voldemort had came to full power again. Hermione noticed that, and hoped that the coincidence wasnât a bad omen. After all, Draco needed as much luck as he could get, with half the Order thinking he was a spy for the Death Eaters. She and Harry had been trying to control the gossip and explain the logic of having Draco on their side. Most members scoffed and decided that Hermione was simply deceived by Dracoâs devastatingly handsome looks, and that Harry really was addled in the mind, that the gossip was finally right.
---
The evening of June 24 dawned cool and ominous. Draco had just finished dressing in his âfrivolous, ridiculous- Granger, are you trying to make me look like a pansy?â initiation costume, a long white tunic that seemed to glitter from within that had long, sweeping sleeves, along with very loose, fluid pants that grazed simple sandals which wrapped around Dracoâs ankles. The outfit could be considered frivolous, especially in times where material to making clothing was hard to come by, but it had important significance to the Order. Though those that wore it knew nothing about it, the cloth was woven with enchantments to protect the wearer from dangerous enchantments by turning into a thick armor, in case of an unexpected raid, and also hexes to poison the skin of enemies that touched the material. This made putting on the costume the first part of the initiation- those with a vendetta against the Order would suffer mild poisoning, although just enough to warn the Order and let them deal with the matter accordingly.
Draco was blindfolded that evening as soon as he finished putting on his robes. He was led blindly through the forests, tripping over roots and cursing with each tumble. After one particularly nasty spill, he spat out, âWhen are we bloody going to get there? I thought this would be quick!â
âWeâre here!â a deep voice suddenly announced. Harry, Draco realized. Slowly, Dracoâs blindfold was taken off and he took in his surroundings. He was at the edge of a large, expansive lake. Ten prominent members of the Order were in a circle around him, all wearing snow-white robes. Frowning, Draco realized they were all chanting something, moving their lips faster and faster until the sound turned into a slow buzz. Just as Draco was ready to run away screaming (although he wasnât scared, he simply needed to⊠use the loos, of course), a fantastic red phoenix came soaring out of the woods towards the clearing, singing along with the tune of the Orderâs chant. Draco stared at it, fascinated, when suddenly, the bird began flying rapidly in Dracoâs direction. Eyes widening, Draco ducked, but too late- the bird had flown right into him, bursting into flames. Too shocked at the dramatic death of the phoenix, Draco failed to realize that his robes had suddenly caught fire. Deep crimson, stormy black and fiery orange flames licked at his body, caressing him. Looking down, Dracoâs eyes grew wide, and everything grew dark.
---
âWake up, Draco! Wake up!â An insistent arm pushed on Dracoâs arm, irritating him.
âBloody hell! Ten more minutes!â He heard someone giggle. Prying open one eye slowly, he saw Granger sitting on the edge of his bed, looking amused.
âBlaise told me you were grumpy in the morning,â she stated, suppressing a grin.
Draco threw off the covers and got up, outraged. âI am not!â
âGrumpy.â
Rolling his eyes, Draco went to his wardrobe and began selecting his outfit for the day. Glancing at Hermione, who was still sitting on his bed, he smiled evilly, noticing her gaze. âLike what you see, Granger?â Although the two were still on first-name basis, he still liked to throw in her surname for good measure.
Hermione tried to suppress the blush creeping along her face. âNo! I was justâŠâ Her eyes looked around, searching for something else to look at. âI was simply looking at the elaborate woodwork on your armoire.â
âRight, Hermione. The woodwork.â
Hermione rolled her eyes. âEnough. I came up here to tell you that you are now officially a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and with that privilege comes your first assignment.â
Dracoâs eyes brightened. He had been wondering if he would ever be able to do something. He was sick of just sitting around headquarters all day- although he was fascinated with the apparent tradition of beheading house elves. Shaking his head, he thought of the questions he had been eager to be answered. âHow the hell did I survive those flames? Were you trying to kill me?â
Hermione smiled, eager to discuss the initiation. âThe fire was the entire initiation. Fawkes- that was Dumbledoreâs phoenix, although now Harry owns him- set you on fire in addition to himself. He was regenerating. And we werenât trying to kill you. Those flames, along with our chanting, tested out the possible outcomes of your loyalty to the Light. Black flames would have meant betrayal; yellow would have meant betrayal under pressure, while orange means intense loyalty, though confusion. Red flames of course mean an intense, unfailing loyalty. You passed.â
Draco remembered his flames were both orange and red, and felt himself swell with pride. Then he realized the presence of the black flames, and felt his heart sink. But still, Hermione had said possible outcomes. It didnât mean the flames predicted the future. âWhat color flames did you have?â
Hermione hesitated. âRed and orange. But Draco, the color of your flames is knowledge only for you and people you entirely trust. We couldnât see what colors your flames were. We only saw Fawkes. Although,â here she smiled, âif your flames had only been black or yellow, you would have been burned. But thatâs never happened before,â Hermione added hastily, seeing Dracoâs look of horror.
Draco nodded, understanding. He decided to keep that fact that the flames burned black a secret. âSo what was that you were telling me about having an assignment?â
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