"Love is a secret between two hearts, a mystery between two souls." Henri-Frédéric Amiel
It was almost one o'clock when Theodore explained the rules of their game. According to him, their small group was experts in this style of party. If you refused to play, you drank, it was simple. Yet, judging by their amused glances, Hermione understood that there was something fishy going on. With her muscles tense to the maximum from stress, the young Gryffindor took the time to swirl the contents of her glass, an anxious expression crossing her face. She had the feeling of being trapped among wolves and that they would soon devour her. Nott, sitting to her left, had just stretched his arm over the sofa, brushing against her in the process. She shivered with apprehension. She wasn't a coward. However, Hermione was known to have a brilliant mind and good intuition. And her mind was screaming at her to run away and not look back.
Malfoy, positioned to her right, was taking long swigs of his mead. If Hermione thought she was tense, it seemed like Draco had a broomstick stuck up his backside. He didn't dare to make any movements. Several times, he had tried to shift to reduce the contact between their bodies, but in vain. He always ended up falling back against her, their shoulders colliding. Swearing under his breath, he took another gulp, a clenched fist on his thigh. Hermione should have found it amusing, but the blond's reaction only accelerated her heartbeat. What was the secret behind the famous Slytherin parties?
"Well," began Pansy Parkinson, capturing the gaze of the whole assembly. "Since we have a newcomer with us, I think it would be interesting to give a demonstration. Theo?"
Nodding at her command, he straightened up, brushing his arm against Hermione's hip in the process.
"I'm ready," he affirmed, a smug smile on his face.
That didn't bode well.
"Truth or Dare?" retorted Pansy, in a sultry voice dripping with challenge.
He seemed to ponder, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.
"Dare."
"What heroism, Theo! I was so ready to ask you a question. Too bad."
He offered her a predatory smile, as if he sensed that the black-haired woman was going to put him in a tough spot.
"Cut to the chase, Pans. We all know how much you love giving crappy dares."
"I thought you wanted to play?" the Slytherin attacked mischievously.
"Well," she continued. "Kiss Granger."
There was silence, then a few laughs erupted in the assembly. Hermione couldn't move a muscle, she was so horrified. Not that she had never played this type of game before, but she should have known that Pansy would target her more than anyone else. What a nightmare, she thought as she fidgeted with her fingers. She didn't want to make a spectacle of herself, especially not after her conversation with Malfoy. The blond had just taken another gulp and deliberately avoided her gaze, his lips twisted in irritation. Theo made no comment, and after a good minute of silence, blushing cheeks, he turned back to Hermione and clinked his cup against hers. He swallowed it in one gulp, and Pansy expressed her disappointment out loud. Hermione followed suit and furrowed her brows as the taste of alcohol hit her nose. What had the young woman given her again?
"Now that the game seems clear, it's your turn, Golden Girl," the man to her left whispered, suddenly as straight as a rod.
Hermione suspected that she wasn't the only one stressed by the oppressive atmosphere of the evening, and summoning her courage, she observed the individuals standing in the living room. Blaise was whispering in Daphne's ear, and she seemed to radiate happiness under their conversation. She could hear thin laughter under their words. One of the two Ravenclaw girls was eyeing her with envy and disdain, for reasons unknown to her.
Tilting her head, she fixed her eyes on the tall woman with red hair and glasses dangling against her upturned nose. She didn't know her and her aura seemed more welcoming than the rest of the group. Offering her a thin smile, she caught her gaze.
"Truth or Dare ?" she asked.
The Ravenclaw gave her a amused smirk and breathed out, "Truth."
"Did you dread returning to Hogwarts?"
Hermione was curious, and her question hit the mark, as the conversations suddenly came to an end. Some, eager to learn more, looked at their friend with interest. She didn't seem disturbed by the question, on the contrary. Satisfied, she declared casually:
"My little sister was afraid to start her first year at the wizarding school after the events, so I accompanied her."
"Bianca, right?"
She had just remembered her identity. Loretta Cornhill. She was a studious student who had kept a low profile in recent years. Hermione didn't know how she had experienced the war, but judging by her grateful look and gentle aura, the young Gryffindor thought she would get along well with her.
"Exactly. She couldn't stop talking about classes and you. I think she would like to meet you."
Hermione let out a small exclamation of surprise at her words, and Pansy hissed through her teeth.
"If you want to exchange pleasantries, you have plenty of time to do so tomorrow. We're playing here, for heaven's sake!"
Hermione burst out laughing at her expression, and Pansy seemed to observe her for the first time with wide-eyed amazement. Then, regaining her composure, the rounds between the participants continued. The young Gryffindor continued to sip her drink absentmindedly, with a vacant gaze, even when Draco passionately kissed the second Ravenclaw girl, and the spectacle was grotesque. She made no comment, even when Malfoy, returning to her side, glanced at her again. She royally ignored him. He wanted to act as if it was just a passing fling between them, a futile game, and Hermione gave him the proof he wanted, a damn disinterest in him. If he seemed affected by her silence, he showed nothing, contenting himself with openly drinking from his bottle. When Blaise spoke up and uttered her name, Hermione felt the hairs on her arms stand up as he passed.
She chose the safest option.
"Truth."
"I thought Gryffindors were brave."
She rolled her eyes, and he laughed at her reaction.
"Alright, alright, Granger."
With mocking eyes, she glared at him, suddenly agitated. Pansy was biting her lips, excited. Hermione remained stoic, feigning indifference to the situation, while her heart pounded heavily against her temples. With sweaty palms, she took another sip to calm herself down. The bitter taste continued to rise to her head, relieving the pain in her forearm.
"What is your worst memory of the war?"
"You can't be serious, Blaise," reproached Malfoy with acidity, suddenly enraged.
Hermione was livid. She didn't think he would ask her that question. And above all, she didn't think her tongue would loosen so easily. But the drink seemed to take over. Or perhaps it was something else? The silence in the room was all-encompassing, suffocating. Theodore didn't move, seeming irritated by the interrogation he was subjected to.
"You don't have to answer," he said.
"We all know she doesn't really have a choice, right?" someone interjected.
Hermione groaned. Her throat felt thick, and she had this need to answer truthfully, as if this sudden feeling was pulling at her guts. Oppressed by the discomfort of her body, she understood.
"There's Veritaserum in my drink, isn't there?"
She immediately shut her mouth, to prevent any truths from plunging into the group's atmosphere with darkness. She wasn't ready to address this kind of topic. Pansy simply nodded, as if she had just realized the phenomenon happening within her. She seemed almost regretful.
"Change the question, Blaise," the young woman finally muttered.
"Why? She's perfectly capable of asking me," he retorted.
Hermione ignored why Zabini's tone was so encouraging, almost pleading. What exactly was he expecting from her? She had no cheerful memories to share, and answering his question would take hours. She pursed her lips, suddenly weary. Eluding his inquiry, she hastily asked:
"Have you ever been tortured?"
Her retort created a chill in the group. No one dared to utter a word. Draco was rigid beside her, as if holding his breath. And Zabini stared at her, seeming to understand what lay beneath her words. He held his breath for a moment before answering honestly:
"My father was a horrible man, but he never laid a hand on me. And you didn't fulfill your dare; you have to drink."
Theodore exchanged a glance with his friend and quickly looked away. Nott had a difficult childhood, she had heard. And the guilt of asking such a question squeezed her throat. Clearing her throat, and keeping her gaze fixed on her glass, she opted for the truth, her hands trembling and tense.
"I don't have good memories of the war, like all of you, I assume. Both sides were affected."
Draco Malfoy's friends held their breath as she continued:
"I have two that come to mind."
It was only a whisper, but she was certain that all the students present had heard it. The blond beside her was breathing heavily, as if he dreaded her future words as much as she did.
"It was before the confrontation. Harry, Ron, and I spent our time trying to find a way to neutralize Voldemort."
Several shivers spread through the group. No one dared to meet her gaze, and Hermione was grateful for that; she didn't have the strength to face anyone's judgment or pity.
"We spent our time protecting each other and we were doing pretty well at first. But while aparating after a disastrous visit with a wizard who betrayed us... I didn't have time to cast protective spells and they found us."
Hermione didn't try to explain the identities of their assailants. She didn't have the courage.
"Everything happened very quickly, we fled, separated, and I knew very well that we wouldn't make it, so I... I cast a spell on Harry. So that he wouldn't be recognized."
Draco tensed at her words and averted his gaze. He seemed to relive the events along with her. And with everyone's attention on her lips, Hermione continued her story. She didn't know why, but discussing it with people who wouldn't provide any moral support felt good to her. Apart from Ron and Harry, no one knew this story.
"I wanted to protect them as best as I could, and... I failed."
She let out a weak laugh and, lowering her face to her cup, she toyed with it, making the liquid sway. The calm within the four walls of her dormitory seemed almost aggressive.
"You did what you could, didn't you?" Daphne asked, who had been silent until then.
"I guess," she replied with a shrug.
Yet her heart screamed, "Lie!"
"You've been protecting them all these years. But who protected you that night?" Draco said softly.
"No one," the conscience of the Gryffindor replied, and tears welled up in the corners of her lashes. She quickly brushed them away, her throat tight.
Draco didn't dare set his eyes on her. Hair hanging against his face, hiding the sparkle in his eyes, Hermione could only see his lips tremble with emotion. Zabini's eyes were wide, as if he were realizing a detail. And he voiced it aloud, agitated.
"You were tortured, weren't you?"
Hermione shuddered in response, and Theo cursed at his friend, rising with anger.
"That's enough, we've heard enough! The game is over. Thanks for the immense pleasure you brought once again today, Blaise. Now, let's get out of here!" Nott clapped his hands, following up on his words, and everyone straightened up, almost frightened. Giving Draco a brief glance, his eyes shining with empathy and his mouth pinched, the young man with brown hair ushered the remaining students towards the exit. Only Draco and she remained, still sunk into one of the plush armchairs.
"Well, that was..." Hermione couldn't find the words to finish her sentence. She was lost and exhausted. She needed a good night's sleep and to forget what had just happened. She couldn't believe she had blurted out such secrets. She felt ashamed.
Looking disapprovingly, almost accusingly, at her drink, she slammed the cup against the table.
"You should never have participated. Why did you have to be so stubborn? You have nothing to prove, damn it!" Malfoy had risen and was glaring at her, fiery with anger.
"I didn't do it to prove anything!" she suddenly exclaimed bitterly.
"Then why throw yourself into the lion's den? It was so obvious they were going to ask you disgusting questions. Can't you think, or what? Where did that brilliant brain of yours go? Does alcohol make you so stupid?"
He erupted with anger, a furious spark dancing in his gray eyes. Hermione, under the impulsiveness, retorted fiercely:
"After our conversation, I needed you to see me! To keep seeing me! And not just ignore me like I'm some damn rag!"
Malfoy held his breath, and Hermione cursed the damn drink that made her blurt out everything on her mind. She hated Pansy for passing it to her, she loathed Blaise for interrogating her so intensely, and she hated herself above all for still thinking about that damn Slytherin. She wanted him out of her mind, to leave her alone.
"For heaven's sake, Granger. Do you really think I'm going to stop analyzing you after a stupid little conversation? Can't you see how I'm always looking for you in a room? How I ask my friends horribly repetitive questions to find out your damn schedule, which annoys them unimaginably? How do you think I knew about your dormitory party? I observe you with a completely elusive madness. So, don't venture into dangerous discussions to spark some kind of fire in my eyes. It's already there, damn it! And that feeling remains like a poison, whether I want it or not!"
Hermione wanted to laugh, but the emotions remained stuck in her throat. She had this sudden urge to cry, and she didn't understand why. Why did he say he only thought of her if he constantly pushed her away afterwards? Should she let go? It was no longer a game between them. It was their reality, their feelings. Sweet and bitter. And with her breathing heavy, she bent her knees, rising to face him.
"Malfoy," she breathed.
"Stop," he pleaded. "I'm not in a state to confront you."
"I just want to understand."
"There's nothing to understand, okay? Go to your room, sleep, that's all."
"Don't give me orders!"
"If I don't, who else could possibly change your mind and protect you, huh?"
"What are you talking about? I'm not in danger."
Malfoy approached her in two strides, seizing her hair with skilled hands, dangerously bringing their faces closer together. Their breaths mingled with a passion saved from restraint. Wide-eyed, Hermione held her breath. Draco seemed to be in an internal dilemma. Brushing her nose in a gentle dance, the Slytherin closed his eyes briefly, as if intoxicated with desire. His grip became gentler, and the circular movements against her hair awakened a torrent of flames in the Gryffindor's belly. It was insane to want so much. Always more. But clutching his shirt, as if deprived of oxygen, Hermione watched him through her lashes, their lips brushing past each other. It only took a small effort to bridge the gap between their bodies, just a passionate moment to break the cord of their respective fears. And she was sure Draco was struggling like her to find a plausible reason not to succumb to this excessive desire.
Hermione found no excuse, no reason. She wanted him, that was all. And it was intolerable for her to once again miss out on this palpable temptation. Malfoy seemed to think so too. With wide eyes and ragged breath, he was on the brink. A precipice of new, exhilarating sensations. She whispered his name for the first time, and he groaned in return.
In a flash, Draco crushed his lips against hers, sealing them in a devouring intoxication. The moan that escaped Hermione's lips should have made her ashamed. It was quite the opposite. Losing all sense of reality, she grabbed his neck with her long fingers and pressed her body against his. Groaning in unison with her movement, Malfoy slid his hand against her neck to hold her in place, as if she would escape.
With frenzy, he lifted her off the ground, and by instinct, she wrapped her arms around his waist, moaning his name.
"Say it again," Malfoy urged against her lips. "I want to hear you say it."
"Draco," she whimpered, responding to his request.
He cursed against her mouth, not giving them a moment to breathe. Hermione trembled in every limb. She felt like she was on fire under the sensations of his fingers against her back and her hips rubbing against his crotch. Malfoy ran his tongue along her lower lip, and she surrendered to him in a final leap. He could take everything. Everything.
Hermione couldn't remember how they ended up against the door leading to the kitchen. There was only the echo of their erratic breaths and the heat of their desire. With her hands buried in his platinum hair, she pulled it enough to make him tilt his head and bit his lip hard. Draco seemed to enjoy it, as he pushed her back against the wall in a sudden move, cursing softly between kisses.
She felt herself melting, radiating with happiness. Malfoy initiated a movement against her hips, and she moaned in harmony, unable to hold back. She undulated, again and again. She wanted more. Her skirt had ridden up in their haste, and Hermione could feel the full length of the Slytherin against her. Good God. He was big.
"For God's sake, Hermione," he growled.
Her name rolled sensually off his full lips, and she tensed against him, matching each of his movements.
"More," she moaned repeatedly. "Don't stop."
"You're going to kill me," he growled back, gripping her hips hard so she could feel his hardness against her soaking crotch.
Sliding his hands against her rounded buttocks, unable to control himself, he pinned her back against the wall.
"You don't want any of this, Hermione. You shouldn't want me."
His voice was urgent, agitated, against her lips. Feeling his anxiety resurfacing, Hermione kissed him to silence him, but he quickly pulled away, his forehead pressed against her. He seemed petrified with fear. With swollen lips, he analyzed her with a lump in his throat.
"Draco," she whispered, suddenly lost.
He no longer made any movement, as if paralyzed. Then, coming back to life, he slid her body off in mechanical movements, adjusting her skirt in the process and touching a few strands of her chocolate hair with nervousness. He avoided her gaze, his breathing still as wheezy. She knew he was worried, but she didn't understand this resistance.
"I've already started to ruin your perfection."
It was only a whisper, but his overwhelmed tone squeezed her heart.
"Draco. I've never been perfect."
"Stop it, don't let me change you, poison you with my damn presence. You don't deserve that, Granger."
They were back to using last names, and Hermione bit her lip, suddenly heartbroken.
"I'm out of control with you. I could have... I was going to..."
He couldn't formulate his words anymore, his eyes suddenly brimming with sadness.
"I wanted it too."
The truth of her words didn't reach Malfoy's pupils at all; he continued to avoid her gaze.
"Do you understand how dangerous I am?"
He seemed desperate to keep her away, to create a wall between their now extinguished passion.
"Go back to your room and forget what just happened."
He turned his back on her and hurried up the stairs without giving her a glance.
"Goodnight, Granger," were his final words before he closed the door to his room.