by Incitata
 
 

Chapter 4
Pax
 

"He sang as if he knew me
In all my dark despair
And then he looked right through me
as if I wasn't there"
Killing Me Softly
Sung by Roberta Flack, 1973.
 

"Where will you be tomorrow night?" enquired Draco. They were sharing lunch for the fifth day
in a row in the empty classroom. The room, at first so cold and dusty had acquired a warmth and
familiarity entirely of their own creation. Fragile and forbidden. "With your dear, dear friends? Or
are you still not speaking?"

Hermione shook her head. "New Year is likely to be about as much fun as Christmas."

"Why Hermione, I’m crushed, " he grasped her hand and held it fleetingly to his chest. "Can you
ever forgive me for being such dreadful company?"

"Never," she lay facing him with her back to the fire, Hermione's head rested on his right arm.
Draco's other hand trailed over her hip, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.

"What ever do you think they would say if they could see you now?" he asked, with idle curiosity,
"Do you think they'd be surprised that Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Prefect, born of Muggles was
lying in front of a fire entwined in the arms of a Malfoy."

"What would your family say?" Hermione asked; she picked at an imaginary piece of fluff on his
shoulder. "I bet that would be something to see."

"Hmm. Let me see," Draco leaned toward Hermione and began to twist a strand of hair gently
around one finger. He spoke very slowly. "I imagine that several aged aunts would drop dead,
followed closely by a random assortment of strokes and a healthy bout of apoplexy all round;
Father would have a fit," his finger reached Hermione's scalp and when he gently tugged the knot
of hair she had no choice but to follow. He brushed her lips with his. "And following that fifteen
generations past would spin in their graves …just an average day really!"

"I don't think Harry and Ron would ever speak to me again."

"Seems like you're half way there already," remarked Draco. He was so close that she could feel
his hot breath damp against her cheek. He smelled spicy sweet, cinnamon and ginger. Intense and
intoxicating. "Say, why don't we complete the process? Isn't it time you got some new friends anyway,
surely you must have outgrown them by now!" Hermione couldn't see his lips move but she could
feel him, warm at her side and suddenly menacing.

Carefully he uncoiled the long strand of hair from about his finger. Hermione felt it drop against her
cheek.

Hermione drew back, wary. She never could tell when he was joking. The dancing firelight sent
shadows, fleeting and interesting across his face. They deepened the wryly twisted corners of his mouth.
She thought him was too worldly and too dangerous to be beautiful. "You wouldn't do that."

"I might if you gave me reason to," Draco said. Hermione couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.
Was that what this was all about? Blackmail. Then she caught the glint in his eye and he burst into soft
gurgling laughter. "I've no intention of doing any such thing. You really are delightfully stupid sometimes."

It was in this way that Draco exercised a subtle authority over Hermione. Though she would not have
cared to admit it he was adept at playing her emotions, at exploiting each weakness he had identified at
their first encounter after the Christmas dance. It fed the part of her that found it refreshing not to be the
one with all the answers, to succumb to the other part of her nature, that part which did not want to be
in control.

She sighed and poked the end of his nose, "And you are unpleasantly patronising Malfoy."

He ignored that comment. "I do think that you should start speaking to them again. Can you imagine
what fun it would be, knowing that you were coming here to me and that they knew nothing of it …"
Draco raised his head, he seemed to peer deep into the darkest, dustiest corners of the room. "Did
you hear that noise?"

Hermione shook her head and got to her knees; she listened carefully, "It's the door."

"Stay here," Draco got to his feet followed closely by Hermione. They tiptoed cautiously over to
the door. It was a solid door, and bolted, but over here the scratching was unmistakably louder.
Something was out there.

"Open it," Hermione watched as he undid the bolt. It couldn't be Filch. The old caretaker would
have hammered on the door and yelled at the top of his thin reedy voice if he was outside. Why the
scratching? Rats? Peeves?

"It's Mrs Norris," said Hermione, flatly.

Draco nodded in acknowledgement. He pulled open the door. The glowing lantern eyes of the
caretakers cat stared up at them, but only for a moment. The animal blinked once and seemed to
grin before darting off down the corridor.

Hermione looked up at Draco who stared after the cat.

"Lets get out of here shall we," she suggested. Dashing back into the room she doused the flame
and grabbed her bag. "Quick!" No time to clear up the remains of their lunch or to hide the heat
from the fire; she could only hope that the little House Elf could clear up before Filch arrived, but
the caretakers speed was legendary …

The pair pelted down the corridor and turned left at the bottom. Third floor. Where to go. No time
to get to the library. They would pass Filch on the way down to the entrance hall. Where?

"Upstairs!" said Draco grabbing her hand. He ran, dragging Hermione behind him up a narrow
staircase. They paused and heard the pounding of quickly moving feet rising from the corridor below.

"Where now?" she cried, as he led her round another corner, down another hallway. They turned
corner after corner and all the while Hermione had the feeling that Filch was gaining on them. "Stop
for one second Draco." Hermione clutched her side. "I can't run, cramp."
 

"It's no time to start whinging now/." Draco scolded. "Get a move on or I'll leave you here! That
man would love to get me for something. Now, where the hell are we?"

"You led us here. You tell me …" she glanced round, "Fourth floor."

Footsteps growing closer. "This way, and watch the step." Hermione pushed back a tapestry and
led the way up another staircase, a short cut that the Gryffindors used everyday. They climbed,
tripping in their haste. "Down here."

Draco and Hermione found themselves in an empty corridor, the eyes of the portraits peering at
them with interest, startled by the unusually loud clatter of feet. They dashed straight past the statue
of Boris the Bewildered and skidded to a halt.

"Prefects bathroom!" they said in unison both grinning like idiots as they scurried back, one, two,
three … fourth door. "Parallax." gasped Hermione and Draco fighting for breath.

The door swung smoothly open and the pair plunged into the bathroom.

Hermione slammed the door closed and bolted the door. Safe.

The Gryffindor bent double, resting her hands on her knees and sucked in deep gaping breathes as
she tried not to laugh. Her sides hurt. She looked over at Draco who leaned with his back against
the door, face flushed from the exercise.

"That was close!" he laughed. "I thought he had us."

"Wouldn't it look good," said Hermione, with relief. She swung her legs over the side of the deep
rectangular bath to sit between two of the many golden taps. "Two prefects caught out of bounds.
I suppose we'd better sit it out here."

There were worse places to hide than the cool white marble bathroom, softly lit by candlelight.
Maybe grab a few of those towels to sit on, pull open the windows and look out onto the grounds.
Hermione looked at the mermaid who swished her tail and looked down on the newcomers with
interest from her gilt framed portrait. Hermione thought that the look the mermaid cast at Draco
from beneath her swathe of golden hair was more appropriate for a succubus than a mermaid,
though she said nothing.

"Why don't we …"

Someone hammered hard on the door.

"Open up, I know you're in there," it was Filch. "Breaking into bathrooms isn't going to save you."

"Turn on the taps," said Hermione, "And pass me a bath robe."

"Great plan Hermione!" Draco stared at her as if she had gone mad.

"just do it!" she said as the banging continued. "And hide somewhere."

Hermione pulled off her boots and socks and stuffed them behind one of the long linen curtains.
She rolled up the legs of her jeans as she listened to the shouts and threats of Filch growing ever
louder above the roar of the water now pouring into the marble bathtub. Quickly she pulled her
arms into the fluffy white bathrobe and tied the front so that it hid her clothes. The room was
beginning to fill with steam and the scent of bubblebath as she arranged her features into what
she hoped was the right statement for someone about to take a bath.

Hermione signalled for Draco to turn off the taps.

As she unlocked the door she heard a great splash somewhere behind.

Argus Filch stood there, jowls red and eyes bulging. Mrs Norris weaved in and out of his legs
emitting a broken rasping purr. Hermione could have sworn the cat looked smug.

"Mister Filch?" she said in surprise. "Can I help you?"

"That's the prefects bathroom," Filch snarled. "Trespassing, breaking an entry …"
 

"I am a prefect!" interrupted Hermione, furious, wishing that she could reach her badge and
stick it in front of his large, bulging nose. "Can I help you?"

"There's students canoodlin' and lighting fires and leaving food about this place. If I catch them
there'll be trouble. I'll string them up by the …"

"Well, there's only me in here Mister Filch. You're welcome to check for canoodlers if you wish,"
said Hermione cheerfully. She stood back from the door so that he could see into the mist of scented
steam that hung over the rippling water of a newly drawn bath.

"No miss, I'll not but woe betide them if they cross my path," Filch flicked his grizzled hair off his
shoulder irritably. "You're that Potters friend aren't you …?" he said slowly, as if that were enough
to convict. Hermione was glad that she had stayed out of trouble, she had the feeling that if she
had been Ron or Harry nothing would have stopped him from calling for a full investigation.

"Yes Mister Filch." Hermione adopted the strained polite tone of someone who had been
unreasonably disturbed.

"I'll be watching you …" he said, pointing. "Watching all of you!" Mrs Norris somehow contrived
to look disappointed as Filch turned away muttering to himself. After a second she followed, thin
moth eaten tail held high in the air.

"Well if you don't mind I'll get back to my bath!" said Hermione in a low voice. "Horrible little man,
fancy not knowing I'm a prefect!"

"Draco. Its clear," she called as she bolted the door. "Draco?" Where was he? There was no tell
tale bulge behind the curtain, he hadn't had time to slip out of the window. Aah!

Hermione pulled back the chunky sleeves of the bathrobe and knelt down by the edge of the bath.
Steadying herself against a tap she extended an arm and swished it through the deep, warm water.
Nothing!

A hand clamped itself round her wrist and pulled her sharply forward. Hermione plunged headfirst
into the bath and emerged spluttering near a very damp Draco.

"What did you do that for?" she shrieked wiping a mass of bubbles from her nose.

"I thought he was coming in to look," Draco coughed, struggling to regain his breath, his silver hair
slick and dark from the water. "This was the only place I wouldn't be seen. You make a surprisingly
good liar, Hermione."

"I don't feel good about it," Hermione struggled to free herself of the bathrobe which sank heavily
below the bubbles. "I'm a prefect, I'm not meant to go around lying to school staff, for any reason."

"Well don't worry about it. We got away with it," Draco hooked his arm over the edge of the bath
to save himself the effort of swimming. "You take responsibility far too seriously."

"You sound just like Ron!"

"That badge Hermione," he pointed at he prefect badge pinned to her sodden sweater. "Why do
you wear that badge Hermione?" he asked. "To remind yourself that you are a prefect, or to remind
everyone else?"

"You're a prefect too Malfoy,"

"Do you see me wearing a badge out of term time?"

Hermione looked down at her badge treading water all the while. It was tiring work with all her
clothes on. Did he have a point?

"Why not forget it for once," with deft fingers Draco unclipped the badge and raised it above his
head. Hermione watched as he let it fall with a plip into the water and sink down to the bottom of
the enormous bath. "Now you're a mere mortal like the rest of us."

Draco pushed away from the side and embraced Hermione, his body was hard against hers and
though she resisted slightly she found herself being pulled below the foamy surface. Drowned by
a kiss. What away to celebrate their escape.
 

~0~

Clambering from the bath weighed down by waterlogged clothes was not easy. Hermione sat on
the edge and peeled off her sweater.

"I'll be dripping all the way back to the common room. What a mess."

"You don't look so bad from where I'm sitting." Draco remarked. He sat on the diving board
emptying water out of his shoes but his eyes were fixed on Hermione. "Only I think half of the
professors will have heart attacks if you don't cover up that shirt."

Hermione looked down. It was soaked and sticking to her skin in a most revealing manner.

"Draco!" she flushed then scowled at Draco. He smirked.

Hermione took her wand and pointed it at herself. "Arescere," she said, and thousands of tiny
droplets of water were sucked into the tip of her wand. "Better?" she asked slyly.

"Hmmm." he said, thoughtfully. "I think I preferred it the other way."

Hermione tutted loudly and continued to dry her clothes.

"You're leaving?" asked Draco as she laced up her boots.

"I have work to do. I'll be in the library if you need me."

"Stay here." Draco suggested flashing her a winning smile, "We could have a proper swim …"

"I don't think so." Hermione hopped to her feet. "I didn't bring my cossie. Bolt the door after I've
gone. Filch is probably still sniffing around."

He chuckled. "Do something for me Hermione, come down to breakfast tomorrow morning."

What an odd thing for him to suggest. Harry and Ron would be there. Why could he possibly
want her there?

"I don't know, I'm not promising anything."

"I guarantee it you'll enjoy it."

She wasn't sure she liked that idea. Draco's sense of humour varied between shrewdly witty,
bitingly sarcastic and down right malicious. Hermione did not understand it.

"No guarantees."
 

~0~

Harry came into the girls dormitory each morning to try and persuade Hermione to come to breakfast.
Each morning Hermione made an excuse for eating in her dorm.

Now was the sixth morning since Christmas and Hermione thought that she heard Harry sigh as the
door closed.

Maybe it was time to stop being an idiot and forget about the last term; she could behave like an adult
as long as Ron could.

Ron had been right, there wasn't much of their friendship left; they'd been growing apart since the
beginning of term. Even before they'd returned after the summer holidays Ron had become more distant
than ever before, more ready to take offence. It seemed increasingly likely that it wouldn't survive the
blows of the future. Without Ron she'd see less of Harry and …

Hermione decided that she should make the effort for her friends … and Draco wanted her to be
at breakfast. It was this thought more than anything that made her pull on her clothes and dash down
the stairs after Harry.

As she walked through the double doors into the great hall Hermione took a deep breath. Odd how
even few days absence can make something so familiar feel strange, the buzz of chatting students, the
mumbling of the professors on the distant high table, the crisp ice blue of the enchanted ceiling. Beautiful,
yet chilling. As Hermione passed the Slytherin table. She cast her glance to the left.

Draco was seated at the far end, alone and aloof in splendid isolation. Nearer to the door were four
girls Hermione didn't know. They must be the first years Draco mentioned. A scattering of Ravenclaws
and Hufflepuffs filled the next two tables but none who Hermione knew. As she approached the
Gryffindor table Hermione saw Ginny holding court with her first year friends and a short distance
away were Harry and Ron.

Hermione continued round to the far side of the table from where she could see the entire room.
From here she could keep an eye on Draco. Harry and Ron stopped talking as she approached.

She gave a little smile. "Do you mind if I join you?" Hermione asked.

"Glad to see you're feeling better!" said Harry. "We've been worried about you."

"Thanks." Said Hermione. Just what had he been telling Ron to account for her absence, "I feel a
lot better. How've you been?"

"Great,"

"What about you Ron?"

"Yeah, great." Ron did not look up.

"I loved the scarf. Thank you." Hermione smiled as pleasantly as possible.

"S'nothing."

This is going well, she thought "Have you two finished your transfiguration assignment yet? I've
managed five feet but I'm really stuck for what to write for the last twelve inches," is it my imagination
or are they bored stiff? Why can't they just tell me? Draco would tell me if I were boring him.
Unperturbed, she continued to talk about the work she had been doing over Christmas. She couldn't
exactly tell them what else she'd been up to.

A flurry of wings at the south window announced the arrival of the post. One particularly fine tawny
owl circled twice around the hall before swooping down toward Hermione. It dropped a wide flat
box on her plate and swept away. She looked at Ron and Harry. Their eyes were fixed on the box.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"No idea," replied Hermione. The box, covered in soft cream coloured leather was tied with a black
ribbon. There was no name or card or any indication of who it was from. She picked it up and with
fumbling fingers untied the bow. The ribbon fell to the table and she flipped open the hinged lid. "Wha …"

Harry and Ron craned forward to see what was concealed within.

After staring for at least a minute Hermione drew out a short flat linked chain. Each link was
etched with silver scales and the clasp was a tiny snakes head set with flashing green eyes. Its
mouth bit down with sharp little teeth on the narrowed tail end of the chain to secure it. Hermione
was uncomfortably aware of the boys staring at her.

"I thought you and Krum split up," said Harry, glancing strangely at Ron. Hermione wanted to drape
it over her wrist to see what it looked like against her skin. She wanted to tell them that the gift was
not from Viktor Krum.

"We still write," said Hermione quietly, she tried not to look over at the Slytherin table where Draco
was leaning against the back of his chair leering in their direction. Hermione resisted the temptation
to leave as she saw him stand and amble toward the Gryffindor table.

"Well, well, well," said Draco said looming behind Harry and Ron; he placed a hand on the back
of either chair and leaned forward. They did not see his wink as he continued. "Mudblood has an
admirer! You get that from a Christmas cracker Weasley?"

Hermione could see Ron simmering, any minute now he would start to boil; she didn't know what
to say.

"Shut up Malfoy!" she snapped. This whole thing was unfair, and typical of his warped sense of fun.
Did her discomfort really amuse him that much?

"It's not from me, it's from Krum," Ron leapt to his feet knocking Draco aside. "Not that it's any of
your business. Why don't you go back to your friends Malfoy," he spat, looking over to the Slytherin
table. "Oh yeah, because you don't have any!"

"I'll leave you with your … friends, Weasley," said Draco sweeping the trio with a look of disdain.
His eyes lingered on Hermione for a moment and she itched to wipe the smirk right off his face.

Inside her conscience screamed You can't live this way forever, sort out your priorities but with
practise she had learned to ignore her nagging voice of reason. Yet doubts lingered. Soon the holidays
would be over and the tower would be crowded once again. How far would she get if she continued
to isolate herself from her fellows. She'd contracted an alliance with an enemy and sooner or later they
would find out.

"Thanks Ron," she said as Draco stalked away. She didn't want a repeat of his last performance.
 

~0~

Hermione confronted Draco soon after breakfast; she caught him on his way down the marble
staircase. "What do you think you're playing at?"

He at least had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Don't you like it?"

"It's beautiful, but that doesn't mean you can come and abuse my friends."

"You said yourself they wouldn't understand. I'm just trying to make things easy for you Hermione,"
Draco's tone became suspicious. "Anyway, I thought you and Krum split up."

"Easy?" she ignored his last comment. "You call that easy?"

"I thought you handled yourself very well. Actually I …"

"And calling me names!"

"Well, you are a Mudblood, if an extraordinarily gifted and beautiful one," Draco cupped Hermione's
cheek in the palm of his hand and tilted her head upwards. "Now, be sensible Hermione. What would
they have thought if I hadn't said that? You asked me to keep this secret and I am merely complying
with your wishes. If you're ready to tell them then be my guest. If not, I suggest that you continue to
play along."

It was no use arguing with him when he was in this sort of mood. He would ruthlessly twist every word
she said and convince her that she was wrong in the first place. Why am I letting him get away with
this? her voice of reason cried in vain.

She felt his hand slip on to her shoulder.

"Meet me tonight at the bottom of that staircase," he pointed vaguely down the stairs. "The one that
leads down to my common room. There's something I want to show you."

"Tonight, I …" began Hermione.

"Eight o'clock." he kissed her on the forehead and swept down the stairs before she could protest.

Hermione watched as he disappeared down toward the dungeons.

She listened until the click of his feet could be heard no more.
 
 
 

In Part Five Hermione faces a choice between love and friendship.

Author's Notes
Could this really happen to Hermione? Well, I've seen a friend reduced from a highly independent
intelligent young lady to a virtual puppet of he boyfriend within less than a week. There wasn't a thing
we could say that would make her see what she was doing, oh well. That was several years ago.

Don't give up on Ron just yet. My other half imposed certain restrictions when I told him I was writing
this fic on pain of having my laptop chucked out of the fourth floor window. He said (and I quote)
"You can't do that! Hermione's a sweety! She belongs with …"

Updates
11th December: The usual minor changes. Two missing comma’s, a slight rewording of one sentence. There is a stray ‘/’ somewhere but I can’t seem to find it. Heck, I need a beta.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.
 

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Chapter 5