Love Is The Darkest Art

Part 8: Rain & Breathe

Scene 12:

The afternoon skies were producing dark clouds. Rain was building up but had yet to let loose its torrent. Draco carried Hermione across the field next to Hagrid's hut and into the woods. He had to get her to someplace secluded where she could breathe again and they could relax. He hoped the trees and their thick leaves would keep the coming storm off of them. The wind was picking up way too fast and he felt the first few sprinkles of rain.

Cradling her with one arm, he reached out with his other. "Accio parasol," he commanded and an umbrella appeared in his hand. He hoped his mother Narcissa didn't mind, as it was hers, but it was the only one he could conjure in his mind at the moment. He flicked the umbrella open, but before he could get it over their heads, the wind caught it and carried it off into the sky. After a moment,  watching the umbrella change direction in the air he realized his mother had enchanted it to return to her in the event it was lost.

Draco readjusted carrying Hermione in his arms and she looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed red from her tears and there was a look of fear in her pupils. It wasn't a fear of him, but of losing him. She could have swore that before he had picked her up he had said he must let her go. She opened her mouth to say something about it, but then the skies opened sending the storm down upon them with fury.

He set her down. "Come on, run," he said and he led her deeper into the dark wood. He took her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers as they sought some form of shelter under the canopy of trees. Unfortunately, they were already drenched, hair wet and matted against their faces, clothes soaked through and shoes filled up with rain as if they were teacups.

"Accio tent!" Hermione shouted with a wave of her wand, and a small tent appeared. It was one she had seen in the window of a shop in Diagon Alley. Normally she would have considered this an act of theft, and therefore wrong, but perhaps her association with Malfoy was wearing off on her too. It's only borrowing, she told herself, as Draco used his own wand to draw the tree branches closer to conceal it.

They scrambled inside and landed on the mossy ground, as the tent had no floor, just sides and its sharply angled roof.

"Where in the world did that come from?" Draco exclaimed, crawling towards the tent's open flap to get a better view of the storm.

"I dont know," Hermione sighed. "But I'm drenched."

He turned to look at her. "So am I,  but you have a way of looking beautiful in any sort of weather."

She blushed. 'Draco, I...."

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. She froze. "This may be uncomfortable, but necessary," he said. Before she could pull out her own wand to defend herself he uttered a few words low in his voice and a rush of hot air hit her. It wasn't enough to knock her back, but the heat that emanated in a stream from the tip of his wand was still intrusive. Waving it just inches away from her, he traced the lines of her body as if he were a sculptor trying to capture every curve to memory. And though it was mildly erotic, the slow meticulous motion of his hand, he never touched her, but instead let the warmth of the charm dry her wet clothes while she wore them.

Down her body he allowed his wand to work, moving over her stomach, down her legs, and ending at her shoes.

"Turn," he commanded,and as she did he dried her back and hood, moving up to her head to dry her hair just as easily as if he were Hogwarts personal hairdresser.

"Close your eyes" he said, and waved the wand over her face, gently drying cheeks, chin, eyebrows, and nose. After he moved it over her lips, he placed his own mouth softly against hers, letting it linger for a few moments. "Don't want your lips getting too dry," he explained with a sly smile.

Hermione finally relaxed and looked at his wand as he moved it across his own body in the same sort of fashion. "I thought you were going to hurt me," she said with a heavy sigh.
"I thought maybe Umbridge..."

"Don't worry about her. We are still a secret for now."

"Just what is our secret, Draco? I don't understand what is happening to us...I don't think anyone could understand this..."

He smiled. "No one has to. Not even us. Sometimes you just want what you want.  And you hope the rest just falls into place."

"But I'm so confused. I don't know what I want."

He reached out his hand and touched her cheek. "It's okay. We're not supposed to know. All I know in all this is I can't stay away from you. I can't bear the thought of not getting lost in your eyes anymore."

"Draco, Umbridge saw us. Neville almost saw us. If we continue this ..."

"If? There is no if for me, Hermione. There is only you, me, and to hell with anyone else."

She shook her head. "But why? For years you have hated me."

"Is that what you think? I never hated you, Granger. Jealous, envious maybe. Hell I was a kid when we met. I didn't know how to express the fact I liked you. All I knew how to do was pick on you. But now I know how to express my strange, new emotions. Maybe I'm growing up, or just growing into you. Either way, I never hated you. In fact, quite the opposite. Hermione, I..."

She put her open hand over his mouth. "Don't Draco, dont you say it. If you say it, I will .."
She let her unfinished sentence hang in the air, as Draco gently removed her hand from his mouth.

"Okay, I won't say it. But that doesn't mean I won't feel it."

Hermione blinked back the tears that were starting to form around her eyes again. "We shouldn't feel this way. We shouldn't be here...not together like..."

He kissed her. Perhaps it was his way of telling her to stop rambling and shut up. Or maybe it was because he did feel something.  That all those years he had picked on her was like a boy on a playground pulling the little girl's pigtails because he liked her. No matter the reason, his lips were warm against hers, causing Hermione to forget her confusions and uncertainties.

She allowed herself to sink into his arms and he pulled her close. His mouth opened against hers and she responded with the very longings she would deny, wrapping herself around him and letting their kiss carry them far from the storm, the cold, the very impossibility of this moment.

They remained like that for awhile, so close if one had seen them they would have thought them one entity, instead of two. Lips melted hot against the other, tongues twisted pleasantly, exchanging breath for breath. Eyes opened and closed with their competing heartbeats. When both managed to open at once, they caught the adoring gaze of the other and renewed their amorous fervor. The real world, such as it was, swam around their heads, while within their intimate kisses all that existed was this fantasy, breathing life into them like never before.

Eventually however, it was breath they needed and their lips parted so that he could whisper her name, "Hermione Jean..."

She looked at him surprised. "You know my middle name?"

He smiled. "Always." Though it had never been revealed in his presence, nor had anyone spoke it before like that, it was apparent he'd paid more interest in her than she ever imagined.

"Say it again."

"Hermione Jean."

"To hell with breathing," she said and kissed him again. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, so that she were slightly above him, kissing down to him and his upturned face. She put both palms against his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands, as his own held her aloft from her bottom. She either didn't notice or didn't care.

A crack of thunder erupted in the distance, but it didn't startle or concern them. The resounding echo of the rain against the tent sounded out the time that escaped them. And yet, if they'd been listening to anything other than their own sighs and whispers, they would have heard voices calling from somewhere out in the wood, "Hermione, Hermione!"