A/N: Gratuitous smut forthcoming . . . you have been warned.

Chapter 8:

Do You Believe In Magic?

Hermione didn't know where she was going and honestly, she didn't care. She just knew that she was fleeing—running from the Gryffindor Common Room, her feet guiding her quickly downstairs. The adrenaline that she had experienced with the Weasley brothers was quickly wearing off, and now she was left with only tears, anger, and confusion.

She couldn't believe that they had done that to her—she thought that they were her friends—but no . . . instead they treated her like she was a possession that could be claimed. And what was worse, they dragged another innocent into the equation.

She stopped short, a sarcastic thought entering her head: Draco—innocent? Yeah, right. But, innocent or not, he was still dragged into the situation without any say of his own.

She felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach as the last thought echoed around her mind: Without any say of his own.

Draco didn't want her—he never had wanted her. His actions were fueled solely by Fred and George's magic and, although the same could be said for her, she found herself in a sense of despair . . . suddenly feeling awful that her feelings for Draco were not real (and vice versa).

She became aware that her face was once more wet with tears and she wiped them from her cheeks hastily.

Why did it hurt so badly? It was Draco Malfoy, for goodness sake! She didn't want him . . . he didn't want her, so what was the problem?

She stopped short, her chest suddenly tight with emotion. Leaning against the wall, she pressed her hand to her breastbone and tried to focus on breathing evenly.

It wasn't fair. How she was treated wasn't fair . . . how she felt wasn't fair . . . and it wasn't fair to Draco, either. They had used her—used her for their own fun and games.

It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

The thought came to her mind and she laughed cynically. Yeah, well someone did get hurt. She had gotten hurt.

She had gotten hurt.

The realization was too much to bear—the pain reopening deep within her. Sick of fighting it, she slid down the wall, finally letting the tears come—tears of hurt, tears of anger, and tears of confusion slid in rivulets down her cheeks, saturating her cheeks. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buried her face into her hands and sobbed.

So wrapped up in her emotions, she didn't hear the soft footsteps that were originating from down the hall. The footsteps neared, slowed, and eventually came to rest in front of her.


Hermione's head jerked up and she immediately gasped in surprise when she was met with slate gray eyes. Swearing under her breath, she sniffed loudly and wiped the tears from her face.

"Are you okay?" Draco was crouched before her, his eyes filled with worry.

Averting his gaze, Hermione nodded.

"You sure?" Draco's fingers found a stray tear on Hermione's cheek and brushed it away.

Hermione flinched from his touch, as if she'd been burned.

Eyebrows furrowed, Draco recoiled. A look of hurt darkened his features. "What's wrong?"

Unable to speak, Hermione only shook her head back and forth, fighting back her tears, her fingers covering her mouth.

"Hey . . . ." Lowering himself gently on to one hip, Draco sat on the ground next to Hermione, his eyes searching her face in concern. "Hey . . . you can tell me." His voice was soft and soothing and Hermione silently hated him for that.

Inhaling deeply, Hermione could feel the battle beginning in her head—the battle of her inner demons. Should she tell him, or shouldn't she? Holding her breath momentarily, she made a rash decision, pushing all other thought from her head as she released the air in a long sigh. "This isn't real." Her voice coming out as a whisper, she couldn't' bring herself to look at him.

Draco leaned forward. "What?"

There's no turning back now.

"This—" She waved her hand absently, indicating the empty space before her. "It isn't real."

Draco smirked. "Of course this is real."

Hermione turned her eyes toward him. They were red-rimmed and wet. "No, it's not."

"How can it not be real? You seem pretty real to me." Reaching out, Draco tucked a stray strand of Hermione's hair behind her ear.

Shutting her eyes to his touch, Hermione had to force herself to focus on the words that she knew had to come. Licking her lips, she swallowed thickly. "It's magic."

"It feels like magic to me, too."

"No, you don't understand." Fresh tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. "It was caused by magic."

Draco frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Sighing, Hermione pushed herself to her feet and began to pace. "This . . . you and me . . . everything that's happened between us . . . it wasn't our choice."

Draco's head snapped up. "What?"

Stopping, Hermione splayed her hands. "It's true."

Draco stood and, crossing a short distance, planted himself directly in front of Hermione. Fixing his gaze, his eyes searched her face, his silvery orbs mixing deeply with her brown ones. After a moment, he shook his head. "I don't believe you."

With Draco standing so close, Hermione could feel heat building, moving slowly up her neck until it settled in her cheeks. She swallowed thickly. "Why would I lie about something like this?"

Draco crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "I don't know. Maybe you're just scared about these new feelings that have surfaced for me."

"Maybe I am." Hermione sighed in exasperation. "No, I know I am . . . but I'm not lying about this. These emotions that we're feeling are fabricated."

Draco's jaw set. "By who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"No, it does matter."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it doesn't. The only thing that matters is that everything that you are feeling for me isn't real."

Draco thought about this. When he finally spoke, it was carefully. "The night of the ball . . . in the hallway?"

Hermione nodded uncomfortably. "You were influenced."


Hermione shifted her eyes from his piercing glare. "There was a potion in the drink that I threw at you."

The muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. "And tonight?"

Hermione cleared her throat uneasily. "The mistletoe."

Draco mulled this over, drawing in a deep breath before exhaling. He lifted his eyes to her. "Why me?" He didn't wait for a response before his face abruptly hardened in anger. "Why now?"

Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. "It wasn't meant for you."

Draco's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Who was it meant for?"

Hermione dropped her eyes to the ground, new tears falling down her cheeks. Unable to speak, she merely shook her head.

Draco gripped her tightly by the biceps. "Who was it meant for?"

Hermione looked into his eyes, her face wet with tears. "Please, Draco . . . . Don't."

Jealously flashed in his light orbs. "Tell me."

Hermione pressed her lips together, refusing to speak. Her silence, however, was all that Draco needed. "It was Weasley, wasn't it?"

Hermione inhaled sharply. "Draco, please. It's not worth it."

"Says who?"

"Don't you understand? It was all just a stupid spell. Everything you're feeling right now is going to wear off."

Draco's face softened. "What if I don't want it to wear off?"

Hermione's mouth fell open as goosebumps rose on her skin. "What?"

Licking his lips, Draco shrugged. "What if I don't want these feelings to go away?"

Hermione sighed. "Draco . . . ."

"What?" Draco cut her off. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's not that it's hard to believe . . .it's just that . . . well . . . how can you even be sure that it's you who's talking right now. How do you know that tomorrow you won't wake up and wonder where the hell these words came from?"

"I won't."

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "I don't think you really have a choice in the matter."

"Would you say that I have any choice in this matter?" Without waiting for an answer, Draco took a step forward, his hands snaking behind Hermione's neck as he pulled her lips to his in a searing kiss.

Hermione gave a squeak of surprise, but as soon as Draco's tongue found the warm cavern of her mouth, she melted into his embrace. Wrapping her arms tightly around his torso, she pressed herself against his body, their kiss deepening.

Draco moaned against her mouth, his hands twisting in her hair.

Hermione wasn't even aware that they were moving, until her back hit the wall. Draco's mouth was needy, his teeth nipping lightly, as he pressed against her. Spreading her legs with his knee, Draco slid his leg between her thighs and rubbed her most intimate spot.

Breaking their kiss, Hermione's head fell back in a groan. Panting, she could feel heat and moisture building.

Draco continued to nibble at her flesh, his lips moving along her jaw line, sucking an earlobe deep into the recesses of his mouth before traveling down her throat, biting gently.

Hermione's eyes were shut, her hands running trails up and down Draco's strong back. Exposing her neck to him, she arched her back and pressed her aching breasts into his chest.

Disentangling one hand from her hair, Draco's hand was suddenly sliding up her shirt, along her smooth, flat belly, until it came to rest on her breast. Squeezing, his thumb ran over her extended nipple through the thin material and Hermione sighed.

Bending a leg, Hermione lifted her hips—shifting them until her heated core was pressed against him. Draco reciprocated and she could feel his erection pressing into her through their clothes.

"I need you," Draco whispered against the sensitive skin of her throat, his tongue smoothing where the heat of his breath had been.

Hermione's eyes snapped open. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she suddenly pushed him away. "No."

Draco's lips were swollen, his eyes stormy with lust. With his mouth parted, he panted as he stared at her. "What?"

Hermione shook her head. "No . . . you don't want me. It's the magic, remember?"

Draco licked his lips, silently thinking this over. Finally, he raised his eyes to hers. "Would you agree that there is no magical influence around us right now?"

Hermione lifted a hand in exasperation. "Yes, but—"

Draco held out his hand to silence her.

"So how do you know that my actions are being influenced by magic?"

"I don't, but—"

"And how do you know that any magic that has influenced any of my actions before hasn't already gone from my system?"

"I don't, but—"

"Tell me you don't want me, too . . . regardless of the circumstances." Draco's eyes searched Hermione's face.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't tell you that."

"Then," Draco took a step closer, his body heat radiating, "what more do you need?"

Dipping his head, his mouth found hers again. But this time, the kiss was gentle—sensual—the urgency diminished.

Hermione hesitated, her mind still reeling, but soon found that she was countering his actions. Her mouth moved against his slowly, her tongue tangoing erotically within his moist grotto.

Draco's hands slid into hers. Palm to palm, their fingers intertwining, Draco forced her hands against the wall, pinning them on either side of her head. Pressing his body against her, Hermione writhed beneath him, her hips rolling as she tried to get closer to him.

Pausing, Draco broke away with a sigh. "If you don't stop that," his mouth found her earlobe and sucked gently, "I'm going to fuck you in this hallway again."

A purr formed in Hermione's throat and she bit at Draco's jaw. She was beyond caring—her libido was running the show now. "So?"

Draco groaned, his hands tightening against hers. "I want tonight to be slow. I want it to be about you."

"What do you suggest?"

Draco glanced around the corridor. A sudden smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as his silvery eyes danced. "Come with me."

Keeping her hand tightly in his, Draco pulled her from the wall and led her quickly from the hallway corridor and to the staircase.

Hermione laughed as she was dragged up the stairs two at a time.

Moments later, she was looking up a grand spiraling staircase. Without even getting her bearings, she knew where Draco was taking her and she dug her heels, stopping him.

"We can't."

Draco lifted an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Why not?"

Hermione shook her head, a loss for words. "W-we just can't."

"There's nobody there, I promise. It will be perfect." Pulling her close, Draco kissed her once more.

When their kiss ended, Hermione felt lightheaded. She swayed slightly on the landing, her eyes traveling up the large staircase, and she gripped Draco's hand tightly. "Okay."

Draco smiled genuinely, the expression softening his sharp features. Keeping her hand in his, he started up the stairs again, leading her gently.

When they finally reached the top, Draco ascended the ladder first, disappearing through a circular trapdoor.

Hermione watched him go and sighed. Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest, and she inhaled deeply to calm her nerves. Finally, exhaling lengthily, she placed her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and began her climb.

When her head finally cleared the trapdoor, she was hit with nostalgia. She hadn't been in this room since her third year at Hogwarts, but it all came flooding back to her as if it were just yesterday—the soft red lighting, the billowing drapes, the festering heat, the sickeningly sweet smell . . . .

The Divination classroom loomed before her, small round tables still scattered aimlessly about, covered in rich colored table clothes and surrounded by plush velvety pouffes. Crystal balls and tea cups provided the centerpieces for the tables, and almost seemed to glow in the dim lighting.

Pulling herself the rest of the way through the trapdoor, she stood uneasily, her eyes darting around the darkened room. Finally, she shook her head. "We shouldn't be in here."

Stepping closer, Draco touched her face, his hand gently caressing her cheek. "Why not?"

Hermione shut her eyes and leaned into his touch. The aroma of the room was making her light-headed. Or, perhaps it was simply Draco's presence.

"Wha-what if we get caught?"

She could still hear Professor Trelawney's voice in her mind on the day she had walked out class—the only class she had ever quit at Hogwarts. And, the longer she stood in the empty classroom, the more fearful she was that Professor Trelawney would suddenly appear.

"Then, they can watch."

Draco's mouth was suddenly on her mouth—his lips moving anguishingly slow against hers as he cupped her face gently.

Fueled by his boldness, Hermione's fears slipped away.

Melting into his body, her hands wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling messily in his hair. Parting her lips, Hermione teased him with just the tip of her tongue. Tracing the contour of his lips, she tormented him for a moment before she allowed her tongue to fully slide into Draco's mouth.

Draco groaned as the smooth surface of their tongues slipped sensually together. Pulling her closer, he pressed his body against hers in need, his knee parting her legs, rubbing her slowly through her clothes.

Hermione's head fell back with a moan. Immediately, Draco dipped his head and attached his mouth to the sensitive skin of her throat. Sucking lower, his hands went to work on unbuttoning her blouse. Each inch of skin that was exposed was given attention—his teeth nipping at her collarbone, his lips nibbling down her sternum, his tongue finding her cleavage, dipping low into the cleft.

Hermione was wild with desire—her nerves were on fire, sending shocks of electricity throughout her entire system. Draco's hot breath fell on her flushed flesh, and her loins began to pulsate with need.

Draco's fingers unhooked the last button and the material fell open, exposing her lacy bra. In one smooth movement, Hermione shrugged her shirt off and reached behind her to unhook the encumbering undergarment.

Reaching out, Draco gripped Hermione's wrists lightly, stopping her. "No . . . slow. I want to see all of you."

Licking her lips, Hermione's hands fell to her sides, her chest rising and falling heavily, heaving with each breath. Her mouth went dry as eyes, the color of an approaching storm, traced every inch of her body. She felt exposed, on display for the world, but she didn't care. All she cared about was that Draco was now touching her abdomen lightly, running his hands along the smooth flesh. It took all of her will power to keep her hands to herself—she longed to reach out and touch him, to feel him, to taste him.

Draco's hands moved higher and Hermione shivered as he found one of her breasts and began to palm it through the material of her bra. Her nipples stood at attention, so erect it was almost painful, and she began to whimper lightly.

Draco's mouth tipped into a smile, a chuckle forming in his throat. "Do you want it?"

Her throat too dry to speak, Hermione could only nod.

"Tell me." Draco pinched her nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger. He leaned agonizingly close, his breath falling lightly on the flesh of her face. "Tell me you want me."

"I—" Hermione gasped for breath as Draco twisted her nipple lightly, sending a shot of energy straight to her groin. "I want you."

Her words came out a jagged whisper.

Forcing her backwards with animalistic force, Hermione took only three steps before she suddenly hit one of the small round tables, the edge striking her lower back.

Removing his hand from her aching breast, Draco leaned around her and brushed the table clean with a violent sweep of his arm. The crystal ball that was in the center of the tablecloth fell to the floor with a crash and rolled across the room noisily.

Gripping her waist, Draco lifted Hermione and set her heavily on top of the table. As he stepped closer, Hermione wrapped her legs tightly around him. She could feel his hardened erection pressing against her moist center and she tried to tilt her hips toward him.

He kissed her briefly on the mouth, his tongue swirling quickly along hers before he turned his attention to her chest again. Bending, he mouthed her nipple through her bra, his teeth nipping lightly. Hermione's back arched and she held his head in place, her fingers twisting in his hair.

Reaching around her, Draco's fingers nimbly unhooked her bra. Letting the straps fall from her shoulders, his eyes feasted on her naked breasts—the swollen unmarked flesh accentuated with rigid soft pink nipples—before lowering his mouth to her left globe.

Hermione's eyes rolled back into her head as he suckled on the sensitive swells. His tongue swirled around her nipple, before he sucked it deep within the warm cavern of his mouth.

Without removing his mouth, his fingers were suddenly between her legs, exploring as they trailed up her skirt. Hermione's head tipped back, her legs spreading for him allowing his fingertips to touch her gently through the soaked core of her panties. Without warning, his hand slipped beneath the elastic, his fingers stroking her velvety folds. She was wet for him, dripping with need, and her juices coat his digits.

He stroked her slowly, pausing only as his fingers found her extended clit. He flicked the sensitive bud once . . . twice . . . and Hermione cried out hoarsely. Abruptly, Draco slipped a finger into her. Hermione bucked against his hand, wanting to feel him deeper, wanting him to fill her more. Complying, Draco slid in a second digit, his fingers sliding slowly in and out of her wet channel.

His hand continued to move, his fingers curling deep within her, as his mouth trailed back up to her lips. Weakly, Hermione kissed him, her hands involuntarily shaking as they began to unbutton his shirt.

His shirt falling open, Hermione broke their kiss so she could admire his body. Running her hands along his smooth chest and around his slim waist, she gripped his back and pulled him tightly into her body. His bare chest rubbed sensually against hers and she pulled him to her, her legs wrapping even tighter around him, which caused his fingers to sink even deeper.

Draco licked at her neck as Hermione's nails dug into his flesh with need.

Reaching between them, she found his throbbing cock and squeezed him through his slacks, her hands rubbing up and down his length.

Draco growled against her throat.

Without hesitation, her hands reached for his belt, needing to free him—needing to feel him inside of her.

Removing his fingers abruptly, Draco's hand were suddenly on hers, stopping her. Breathing heavily, he shook his head slowly. "No."

Panting, Hermione looked into his face, her eyes shrouded with disappointment. "Draco . . . please . . . ."

"That will come. But, tonight," he kissed her lightly, "is about you." His mouth still on hers, Draco began to guide her backwards until she was lying supine. Pinning her hands above her head, Draco's lips trailed down her neck, licking down her chest, her stomach—his fingers following, tracing over her flesh softly. He paused, paying special attention to her navel before continuing down her body.

When he reached the waistband of her skirt, Hermione lifted her hips, granting him access to remove the material. Placing his hands on her knees, Draco spread her legs slowly before bending and planting a soft kiss on her inner thigh.

Hermione shuddered, her breath hitching in her throat as Draco began to mouth her swollen mound through her panties. Writhing against him, she began to pant, begging Draco not to stop. Slipping the offending undergarment off, Draco used his shoulders to spread her legs wider, before he dipped his head between her thighs.

As soon as his tongue touched her sensitive folds, Hermione cried out, her head falling back against the table.

Slowly, Draco paid homage to her slit, his tongue delving deep within the recesses of her most precious parts, moving masterfully against her. Finding her delicate hooded pearl, he flicked the tip of his tongue over it—once, twice—before sucking it deep into his mouth.

Clutching the tablecloth in a tight fist, Hermione could feel her orgasm building. Leveraging her feet on Draco's shoulders, she opened as wide as she could for him, her hips lifting off of the table. Moments later, she was brought over the edge, wave after wave of pleasure rolling over her entire body.

Collapsing, Hermione lay panting, her head having fallen to one side. She could vaguely feel Draco sliding back up the length of her body, but she couldn't focus on anything other than the climax that was still washing over her in subdued ripples.

Draco kissed her softly and she could taste herself on his tongue. Splaying her hands on his bare chest, she ran her fingers over his flesh and helped him to shrug out of his shirt. It fell noiselessly to the floor by his feet.

Locking her ankles tightly around his hips, she pulled him close. "Please . . . ."

Draco smirked, his hands reaching for his belt and undoing it. Lowering the zipper, he allowed his pants to fall next to his shirt, his erection springing free. Kicking the material from his feet, he stepped forward. Hermione could feel the heat that was radiating from his groin pulsing against her as his hardened rod rubbed against the apex of her thighs, lightly hitting her lower abdomen.

She whimpered.

Gripping his thickened manhood, Draco slowly stroked the head of his cock against her, running it up and down her slit before pressing it against her throbbing center.

Sighing, Hermione rolled her hips against him, urging him to proceed.

With a groan, Draco adjusted his hips and entered her.

Hermione gasped as he slowly filled her. Her heels dug into the back of his thighs, pulling him deeper, holding him in place.

Draco paused for a moment, allowing her to get used to his girth before he started a painstakingly slow pace. With delicious torture, he moved, stroking the inner most parts of her walls.

Her mouth falling open, Hermione rolled her hips and met him thrust for thrust. Moaning, her head tossed back and forth, sweat building on her flesh. Arching her back, her hands groped at her breasts, squeezing and pulling at her nipples, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

Gripping her waist, Draco suddenly pulled her forcefully toward the edge of the table. Pushing her thighs open and back, he increased his pace.

Crying out, Hermione's hands left her heaving chest and curled into the material of the tablecloth. Swearing, she gasped for breath, her eyes locking with Draco's. His gaze was steely—clouded with lust—but he remained fixated on her face, his jaw tightening. Reaching out, he touched her face gently, his fingertips tracing her jaw line until his thumb came to rest on Hermione's lips.

Hermione kissed his thumb lightly before sucking it deeply into her mouth.

A bead of sweat dripped down Draco's chest, rolling slowly down his chiseled abdomen before dripping onto Hermione's body.

She could feel heat building in her lower abdomen, her muscles beginning to tense and contract—milking Draco's engorged member. She was close, and she arched her back, trying to help him reach the deepest part within her.

Draco pushed to fill her more completely.

Screaming his name, Hermione fell over the edge, swallowed by ecstasy. Her body reacting, she went rigid, her back arching almost unnaturally against the tabletop.

With a guttural cry, Draco quickly followed her into rapture as his orgasm ripped through his body.

Together, they rode the wave down.

Relaxing, Draco slumped forward as if his body didn't have any bones, his damp form covering Hermione. As their breathing calmed, their heartbeats returning to normal, Hermione's fingers lazily traced the sensitive skin where Draco's hair met his neck, while Draco planted soft kisses next to Hermione's earlobe.

Her eyes fluttering shut, she sighed contently, lost in a world where only she and Draco existed.