Shock and Burn 17
Title: Shock and Burn Part 17
Author: penelope78
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: R
Prompt Set: 100.4
Prompt: Stories
Word Count: 814
Summary: Draco takes Hermione on a walk and tells her stories from his past.
Warnings: language
Notes: Written for my 100quills prompt of Draco/Hermione. My
prompt table can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16
Shock and Burn 17
A Walk on the Estate
Hermione knew the air was freezing, but she could not feel the cold. She simply walked silently beside Draco, feeling his strong hand holding hers. She wanted to be happy, wanted to feel that giggly, overly-girly feeling she had always complained that Lavender Brown exuded. But Hermione was afraid. She felt as though it was not safe to let down her defenses. Not yet.
They walked across the estate. Occasionally Draco would stop, and she would pause beside him, not knowing why they were stopping and too afraid to ask why. There was something comforting about the lingering silence, the blanketing of their words by the winter snow.
Finally, Draco led Hermione into a rose garden, which had obviously been enchanted. The roses still bloomed, bright red and gentle pink. There were even white roses, which stood out in stark contrast against their dark green leaves. There must have been thousands and thousands of blooms with rose bushes stretching far into the distance. Stone paths wove in and out of the blooms, creating a maze of roses and scents.
“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said, breaking the silence before she could stop herself. Draco stood silent beside her. They stood side by side for quite some time, long enough for Hermione’s legs to begin to ache and for her mind to begin to wonder. Finally, Draco broke the stillness, and the sound of his voice startled her.
“My mother wanted roses,” he said. “I always thought they were overrated and pretentious. A complete lack of imagination. Can’t anyone ever pick a different fucking flower? Why roses? They’re so…mundane.”
Hermione wanted to speak, but she felt Draco was not finished. He exhaled audibly beside her. She could see his breath hang in the air before disappearing.
“We had a rose garden at the Manor,” Draco continued. “When I knew they were going to raid the house, I dug them up. Brought them here. Sometimes I think I should have let them burn up, too.”
“I hated to see the house burn,” Hermione said in a whisper. Draco squeezed her hand though she was almost sure it was an unconscious thing on his part.
“It was just stone. Just an outward sign to show others we had money and power,” Draco said with a half shrug. “I loved it. I loved how people would gasp when they stepped into the foyer. I never got tired of people admiring me because of my wealth. In fact, I craved it. I hated poor people-the way they dressed, looked, acted. I thought the world would be better if we were not exposed to their pathetic poverty.”
Hermione felt her shoulders tense. There he is, she thought. There’s the Draco I know.
“Though power and money were seductive and enticing-like a lover who never satisfies you, so you crave more and more and more-it led my family into places of darkness. Places I felt were the right ones to follow. My father was a brilliant, cunning man. And he was powerful…”
Hermione had to bite her tongue in order not to say anything nasty about Lucius Malfoy. Draco squeezed her hand again. She concentrated on the red petal of a rose nearest her.
“But seeing him cower before the Dark Lord,” Draco said, his voice tight and still wounded, “made me nauseous.” Draco dropped Hermione’s hand. He stepped forward and grabbed a rose by the stem and snapped it off near the head. “My mother must have known they were going to kill her.” Draco plucked the petals and dropped them from his fingers. They fell to the snowy ground like drops of blood, and they pooled at his feet. “She asked me to save the roses.” Draco turned to look at Hermione. “The roses. That’s what she was thinking about. That’s how much she loved them. The fucking roses were what she wanted me to take care of when she was gone.” Draco looked away. “Here they are. Safe and sound with no one to look at them.”
“They’re beautiful,” Hermione said again. She stared at the petals strewn about Draco’s feet. “She would be…thankful.”
“Figures you would love such a boring flower, too” Draco said sarcastically, speaking to her from a wounded, haunted place.
Hermione started to protest, but before she could set her expression in one of anger, Draco strode over to her and pulled her into a kiss. Hermione gasped into his mouth, surprised by his advance.
Draco deepened the kiss and slid his hands down Hermione’s trembling body. He pulled away only long enough to say, “I knew you’d love them.” Then, he kissed her again, reaching up to unbutton her coat.
The last rational thought Hermione had was about the Warming Charm. She knew she had cast it on her body, but she didn’t know what would happen if Draco undressed her and pulled her down into the snow…would they freeze? Would she even care?
Author: penelope78
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: R
Prompt Set: 100.4
Prompt: Stories
Word Count: 814
Summary: Draco takes Hermione on a walk and tells her stories from his past.
Warnings: language
Notes: Written for my 100quills prompt of Draco/Hermione. My
prompt table can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16
Shock and Burn 17
A Walk on the Estate
Hermione knew the air was freezing, but she could not feel the cold. She simply walked silently beside Draco, feeling his strong hand holding hers. She wanted to be happy, wanted to feel that giggly, overly-girly feeling she had always complained that Lavender Brown exuded. But Hermione was afraid. She felt as though it was not safe to let down her defenses. Not yet.
They walked across the estate. Occasionally Draco would stop, and she would pause beside him, not knowing why they were stopping and too afraid to ask why. There was something comforting about the lingering silence, the blanketing of their words by the winter snow.
Finally, Draco led Hermione into a rose garden, which had obviously been enchanted. The roses still bloomed, bright red and gentle pink. There were even white roses, which stood out in stark contrast against their dark green leaves. There must have been thousands and thousands of blooms with rose bushes stretching far into the distance. Stone paths wove in and out of the blooms, creating a maze of roses and scents.
“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said, breaking the silence before she could stop herself. Draco stood silent beside her. They stood side by side for quite some time, long enough for Hermione’s legs to begin to ache and for her mind to begin to wonder. Finally, Draco broke the stillness, and the sound of his voice startled her.
“My mother wanted roses,” he said. “I always thought they were overrated and pretentious. A complete lack of imagination. Can’t anyone ever pick a different fucking flower? Why roses? They’re so…mundane.”
Hermione wanted to speak, but she felt Draco was not finished. He exhaled audibly beside her. She could see his breath hang in the air before disappearing.
“We had a rose garden at the Manor,” Draco continued. “When I knew they were going to raid the house, I dug them up. Brought them here. Sometimes I think I should have let them burn up, too.”
“I hated to see the house burn,” Hermione said in a whisper. Draco squeezed her hand though she was almost sure it was an unconscious thing on his part.
“It was just stone. Just an outward sign to show others we had money and power,” Draco said with a half shrug. “I loved it. I loved how people would gasp when they stepped into the foyer. I never got tired of people admiring me because of my wealth. In fact, I craved it. I hated poor people-the way they dressed, looked, acted. I thought the world would be better if we were not exposed to their pathetic poverty.”
Hermione felt her shoulders tense. There he is, she thought. There’s the Draco I know.
“Though power and money were seductive and enticing-like a lover who never satisfies you, so you crave more and more and more-it led my family into places of darkness. Places I felt were the right ones to follow. My father was a brilliant, cunning man. And he was powerful…”
Hermione had to bite her tongue in order not to say anything nasty about Lucius Malfoy. Draco squeezed her hand again. She concentrated on the red petal of a rose nearest her.
“But seeing him cower before the Dark Lord,” Draco said, his voice tight and still wounded, “made me nauseous.” Draco dropped Hermione’s hand. He stepped forward and grabbed a rose by the stem and snapped it off near the head. “My mother must have known they were going to kill her.” Draco plucked the petals and dropped them from his fingers. They fell to the snowy ground like drops of blood, and they pooled at his feet. “She asked me to save the roses.” Draco turned to look at Hermione. “The roses. That’s what she was thinking about. That’s how much she loved them. The fucking roses were what she wanted me to take care of when she was gone.” Draco looked away. “Here they are. Safe and sound with no one to look at them.”
“They’re beautiful,” Hermione said again. She stared at the petals strewn about Draco’s feet. “She would be…thankful.”
“Figures you would love such a boring flower, too” Draco said sarcastically, speaking to her from a wounded, haunted place.
Hermione started to protest, but before she could set her expression in one of anger, Draco strode over to her and pulled her into a kiss. Hermione gasped into his mouth, surprised by his advance.
Draco deepened the kiss and slid his hands down Hermione’s trembling body. He pulled away only long enough to say, “I knew you’d love them.” Then, he kissed her again, reaching up to unbutton her coat.
The last rational thought Hermione had was about the Warming Charm. She knew she had cast it on her body, but she didn’t know what would happen if Draco undressed her and pulled her down into the snow…would they freeze? Would she even care?