A Forbidden Birthright

Chapter Thirty Nine

"Do you have any plans on gifting my clothing back to me?" Hermione asked through a smile as the two of them stood at the side of the room, surveying the crowd of dancing students and handful of teachers.

"Back to you? No, Professor Granger, I think not. In fact, I find myself more interested in you losing the rest of them."

"Draco Malfoy." Hermione voice was low and stern. "You will give me back my- my- you know what! We are in a room full of students. This is hardly appropriate."

"And how would you like me to give them to you? Balled in my hand and passed to you like an illegal drug? Dance with me and you can have them back."

"I-"

"One more dance, Granger. Or you despise me so much that you'd refuse such a gentlemanly ask?" His eyes were sparkling with laughter.

"There's nothing gentlemanly about this," she grumbled as she accepted his hand and he led her back to the dance floor.

With their little excursion interrupted, the tension between Draco and Hermione had climbed to an almost unbearable level. Being so close to him again after their shared heat had her inner thighs aching. She was so caught up in the heady scent of him, in their witty banter and tension that she did not notice a familiar masked face appear over his shoulder.

When the song concluded, Draco's eyes were caught by a group of students, a mix of Slytherin and Hufflepuff, attempting to discreetly spike the punch. He excused himself, and not a minute after he walked away did Hermione find herself swept across the floor in the arms of a fully masked man. 

His attire, although extravagant, was no more opulent than the costumes around them, and he blended in with the golds and the deep blues, the rich greens and oily blacks. But Hermione stiffened in his embrace, her spine tightening. His mask, a crow, was the one she'd thought herself to imagine in the library. And his eyes. She knew those eyes. 

"Tell me," purred Caspian. "Is Draco Malfoy truly so skilled that those delectable faces of pleasure you made were genuine?" 

The rush from the evening, the joy and tension, fizzled out. Shock replaced it, and then fear. She felt as though ice water was in her veins. Hermione's skin paled with fury and she tried to pry herself away from him but his grip was iron, immovable. 

"Now, now, Hermione. No need to be shy." 

"I'll kill you," she spat through grit teeth. 

"Perhaps." He shrugged nonchalantly. "But not tonight." 

"Why are you here?" 

Caspian ignored her question and instead, made a gesture so similar to Draco that it caught her off guard. His sigh was a fully body one, and even though she couldn't see his face, only his eyes, she knew his mouth was open beneath his mask. She could almost feel his tongue wetting his lips. 

"I've come to a recent conclusion, my sweet little devil. About you." 

She pursed her lips together. "And what conclusion is that?" She asked tightly. 

"I think I'd like to tell you everything. That is, if you don't already know. You strike me as incredibly clever, so clever, in fact, it's more likely to get you killed than to do you any good," he replied. "Tell me something, Hermione Granger- why is it that you dress as the Morrigan tonight?" 

This caught Hermione's attention. "The- the Morrigan?" She stuttered. "You misunderstand. I am- I'm a black swan. Not a crow." 

"Whether that is true or not is something I find to be... hmm... irrelevant. You are her. You always have been. I'm not sure how I could have missed it." She could hear him inhale deeply, as though drinking in the scent of her perfume. It made her shudder. "How clear it was that you were chosen, and I was too blinded to see it, but now, you have been revealed to me."