Flew And Flown

"Are you feeling suicidal, Draco?" Rang the voice of Blaise, as they sat in the Manor's, like everything else, elaborate, garden.

Draco leant back on the stone bench, tearing his disdainful glare away from a marble cherubic angel that sat eyeless-ly staring back at him from the lawn.

"Only in the morning." He replied, a smirk lighting one side of his mouth, several buttons of his dress robes undone down the front and hair askew.

"You and Granger, snogging? Bloody hell..." Blaise trailed off and because cursing in his native tongue, until the blond young man let out a pointed cough.

"You really ought to teach me some Italian," Draco said, his head to one side, smirk not lifted, surveying his friend, "it's really quite sexual."

Blaise didn't bother replying, and instead watched the hiss of blue smoke from Draco's only Muggle habit - of smoking - trail away into the diminishing night sky. "So you spent the night snogging her, whisking her around you're ballroom and now you're in a relationship?"

"Of sorts."

"So this is just a temporary right? You're sick of being the Evil Heir of Malfoy and want to date a Muggleborn, who happens to be in the inner circle of you're enemy? Have you completely lost all characteristic qualities?"

"By characteristic qualities you mean torturing Hippogriffs, killing Muggles and not washing my hands after the bathroom, Zabini? There are obstacles, you're right, but since when has that ever stopped me?"

"Touche, Draco, but you're risking your life here with Hermione Granger. Hermione bloody Granger."

"She's... different than everyone else. Perfection in paisley pyjamas." Draco said, throwing a last dirty look towards the cherub. "Sort of angelic."

Blaise paused. "Amazing legs too."

Draco shot him a glare that any heir of Malfoy would have been proud of.

"I mean, she must mean something to you, after all your last dalliance wasn't going to cost you your inheritance." Blaise considered this for a moment. "Or worse. So what are you doing to do about this, this forbidden romance, after all, you are well versed in the chronicles of Romeo and Juliet, no?"

Draco exhaled in an angry breath. "Believe me, Zabini, when I say what is happening between Granger and I will not result in the tragic and heartbreaking deaths of us both, and Potter and Our Lord will not kiss and make up in wake of what has befallen us star-crossed-lovers." Draco paused and let out another puff of smoke. "For one thing, Granger is much to clever to not check for a pulse."

"Sure, compagno, but how is it going to work out between the two of you, whilst she calls 'Our Lord' 'Mortal Enemy?'"

- - -

Several miles from Wiltshire, the certain 'Granger' was sick of wondering the same thing.

"Potter, Weasley!" She called, in a frankly far too good of Professor Snape, as she clamoured out of the fire place in the living room. "Granger reporting for duty-" She slammed open the kitchen door, leaving her heels in her. "-Whoa." Only to find her two best friends slumped over one another, and the large bottle of that very same Professors Emergency Vodka on the table. Right next to they're entwined hands.

Blinking slowly, Hermione wasn't quite sure which part was more shocking.

"Hermione," Harry said, very slowly. "Why is it so bright in here?"

"Nox." Hermione whispered softly and the candle light above them, hung on a medieval looking chandelier died. "What are you two doing?"

Harry began to untangle himself from Ron, starting embarrassedly with their hands, which in turn woke up the red head.

"Well," Ron explained, "we were mad that you had to go to that Malfoy party of Death-"

"Annual Ball." Hermione corrected automatically.

"Right, but anyway, we took it out on the alcohol."

The girl sat across from them on the heavily burned and stained, but none the less characteristic oak table, and wide eyed asked, "how much did you drink?"

"Er," started Harry, "we only had the one of these little cups- before falling asleep."

Hermione's eyes widened a little more, and she was having great difficultly in suppressing the urge to roll them.

"Obviously you were so very worried."

"But how was it?" Ron asked.

The girl darkened slightly, but fearlessly kept looking at her friends. "Uneventful. A whole lot of propaganda - nothing that would stand up in a trial though."

"The Order told us Parvati and Lavender lost you for a while."

A grin not unlike the one's Hermione usually gave when she was breaking a rule appeared on her face, a little apprehensive but a whole lot mischievous.

"I thought I would do a little snooping - Trio style."

Both her friends returned her beam now.

"How was the food?" Harry asked.

"Poisoned?" Ron injected.

"Urm-"

"Was there alcohol?"

"Did you spill it on anyone?"

And then together: "Did you dance?"

Hermione let her gaze drop until it reached a patch of candle wax on the table. "Yeah, I had to dance with Malfoy."

A silence matched her confession.

"That git," said Ron with some venom.

"But I did find out something, something important," Hermione implored, honesty matching her wide eyes, " that he didn't kill Tonks."

Harry's fist slammed down on the table. "How do you know that?"

"I heard Pansy Parkinson talking in the lavatory." She replied, slightly taken a back at Harry's sudden swing.

"Surprise, surprise once again Hermione jumps to Malfoy's defence." Snapped the black haired boy.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione said, standing up.

"You always were the first to say he wasn't involved at school, weren't you, Hermione?" Harry said, rising to his full height.

"Cheating at Quidditch doesn't make anyone a killer."

"No, but that mark on his left arm practically declares it, doesn't it?"

"I told you exactly what I saw that night, and I never saw him hex her, I was mistaken-"

Harry laughed bitterly.

"So he's a good Death Eater, Hermione? He's been neutered?"

"He came here that night to tell us something, something important."

"Right, I see, so Malfoy - who has always hated us shows up, in a house guarded by God knows how many spells, and escapes, kills our friend and you reckon he wants to tell us something important. You've always had this thing for bad boys haven't you?"

Hermione bit her lip in outrage, and then said softly. "I know he's on they're side, Harry, but it's not always as black and white as you make it seem."

There was a pause for a moment, before Harry turned on his heel and walked away. Then the dull, and familiar to both Hermione and Ron, thud of Harry's door slamming.

"Why doesn't he ever listen to me?" Hermione questioned herself.

"Hermione," Ron said gently, his cornflower blue eyes willing her to understand, "he feels so helpless, you know?"

The girl shook her head from side to side softly.

"Somewhere deep inside of him he just holds this picture of how he wants everything to be, of before the war, and the something clouds that - the smallest thing, the wrong brand of tea, Malfoy on the blink, and it's like he's working towards nothing."

"It's the same for all of us." Hermione muttered, dropping back into her seat.

Ron pushed his chair back with a scrap on the tiles, and stood next to his childhood friend. "You're right, but he's the Bloke Who Lived." Ron kissed her on the forehead. "Harry was really worried about you going tonight. We both were."

Hermione curled, cat like, in her chair. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

Ron smiled. "I'm sure that's what you'll say next time you want rescuing from a giant troll."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, quite aware that it was going to ruin her point.

"We're both scared of what Malfoy wants with you," Ron said, turning serious and not at all like the carefree, brussel sprout spitting boy he once was, "I'm not the brightest broom in the shed, Hermione, but I know - so does Harry, that something's going on. Just be careful, you promise? Don't bite off more dragon than you can chew."

Hermione frowned she and Ron went off to bed, the thunder crackling over head an ominous sign.

- - -

And there it was, in between number 10 and 14 was number 12 Grimmaldi Place, a place he had never seen from the outside before – just like the many people that passed by it everyday not knowing that a haunted house of Black lived beside them.

Perhaps it was better those Muggles didn't know it was there.

Perhaps it would have been better for everyone concerned that he didn't know it was there.

Perhaps he thought too much.

But as Draco flew closer, his invisible form unable to be detected by its inhabitants, (Courtesy to one of the many dark objects that resided in the Manor), he felt like he had just swallowed something sharp, pointy and possibly made of bats.

He was going to see her again.

Draco flew silently despite the conditions, of rain, sleet and what he expected an minute to be thunder, an expert after his school days, to the other side of the hidden house. Crammed into a secluded high walled area between it's neighbours equally as small, but much more cared for lawns lay a tiny garden that was home only to a single washing line and a bit of ill looking grass. Hovering closely to the house a window, on the third floor next to the room with hideous moth eaten (and thankfully closed) orange curtains a large window caught his attention. The rain-splattered glass was suddenly flung upward, and the muslin cream drapes flew outwards, and a single hand brushed back the thin material.

It was Hermione.

The single most peculiar, extraordinary and most lovely of all the thorns in his life.

He watched her peer out into the night, as though looking for a sound which had disturbed her. For a moment, her wide almost melancholic eyes paused on him, and then she moved away from the window.

Draco flew higher. He was now level with the dimly lit room. To his amusement, but not exactly his surprise the room was crimson red. It was lit by Christmas lights, and housed only three pieces of furniture – a double bed, the white sheets screwed up, a wardrobe and a desk. All around the room there was books, which confirmed, if her presence had not, the owner of the room.

The door of the red hole in the wall was closed and Hermione, to him a vision in stripy pyjamas, sat facing the mirror on a small dresser, removing the remnants of the party's requisite make-up.

Draco flew closer still. If so inclined he could have touched the open window sill with his hand.

"There is a doorbell, Malfoy." Came the humourless tone of Hermione.

"Because everyone was so hospitable last time."

And the invisibility spell shrouding him fell away.

The daring and all at once villainous face of Draco Malfoy wearing what one could only describe as a bad, bad smirk and a half damp cloak appeared.

Hermione gulped.

"Hello Hermione." He said

Hermione turned and faced him.

"We're on first name basis?" She asked, crookedly and added, "Draco."

The said boy nearly fell off his broom.

"Can I come in?"

The girl nodded and in an instant Draco was standing in her wooden floors, holding his broom tentatively, looking like an expensive doll on a shabby teddy bear shelf. A crisp black contrast to the warm red.

A fact that Draco didn't miss.

"I take it you brought the Gryffindor common room with you?"

Hermione looked as though she was going to laugh, for a moment, but muttered, somewhat sheepishly, "Well... I came back from the Burrow one day, Harry and Ron had painted it... I thought since they'd gone to all that effort it wouldn't be very nice to mention my room now resembles a brothel."

Draco smiled a very real smile, as if someone had lifted a weight from him.

"Why is it - Hermione - that whenever I'm around you suddenly everything is going to be alright." Draco, whom had hardly suspected his slightly impish - if anyone could describe a Malfoy as such - remark to be as moving as a Shakespeare line was most surprised when he suddenly found Hermione's arms around his neck and cheek against his collarbone. Not that it wasn't entirely enjoyable.

While Draco was pondering this, Hermione had never before realized Draco Malfoy capable of butterfly kisses.

Breaking away from her far enough to feel his lips moving against her skin he asked, deepening his voice playfully, "Now that you have me in your Gryffindor brothel, Miss Granger, what are you going to do with me?"

There was a brief pause as Draco and Hermione regarded each other. Hermione's part was of slight embarrassment and slight longing. Draco, however, was continuingly staring at Hermione's lips.

"Can we take it slow, Malfoy?"

Hermione placed her hands on Draco's hips, damp material clutched between her fingers.

The blond's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "We can do anything you want."

"Good." Hermione said, sliding her hands along to Draco's collar, where his cloak came undone.

Draco opened his eyes, pupils slightly dilated as Hermione pulled apart his shirt, lightly, and began to push it down his arms. She ran a hand across his bare shoulders, all while chocolate eyes focused on his.

"Not slowly, then Granger?" Draco breathed.

"No. Not slow."

- - -

"I have a question."

"You always have many."

"Can I ask it anyway?"

"Why not?"

"Did you mean what you said?"

A pause. "That doesn't really narrow much down."

"When I asked you, at the Ball, if you believed in angels. Did you really mean it when you said yes?"

"I did."

Another pause. "I won't hold it against you."

"Why is it important?"

Hermione sat up, clutching the sheet to her bare chest and shaking her hair out of her face. The moonlight danced across her cheeks, nose and played along side her freckles. Her eyes still cast in the darkness so he was unable to see her widened pupils and the importance of her questions.

"Muggles have a thing called God."

"I've heard of it." Draco replied, moving forward so he was entirely out of the moonlight that bathed them, window still open since Draco had flown in, rain still pouring down. Hermione's room a mess of books and clothes.

"This last year, since it's all started, since we're not school children anymore, I've seen things - death. I want to know we're not alone."

She can no longer see his eyes, he cannot see hers. It's a stale mate.

"I believe in angels, Granger. Furthermore, I think I know they exist."

It was perhaps a sign of how desperate things had got since the year she left school. The girl that had once relied on facts, figures and cold written words now wished for nothing more than a ray of hope, of guardian angels, of tamed dragons.

Which was why, in a quiet voice she asked next, "why?"

"Because in the end we all fly - and who else do we steal wings from?" Replied Draco, easing back against the pillows, contrasting with his mused hair.

"I have another question."

"And I'm what, surprised?"

"Are we together?"

"Granger, it is you, me, us, together against the universe."

"While as romantic as that sounds, Draco, there's a lot of obstacles -"

Draco cut her off pressing a finger to her lips. "I don't see anyone between us right now."

Dedicated to the very wonderful, the very brilliant, Xia.

Breath-Holding Authors Note: It's scary to think I began this story at the beginning of the year. THE YEAR. And now it's nearly over. How time flies. I felt for sure when I started, that it wouldn't take more than the rest of the summer to finish - I used to look at fics that spanned years and shake my head, and now it is 11 months since I began and by the looks of things, it won't be finished until 2005. And I haven't changed the original story line. Hopefully by the time Tea and Angels is, indeed, finished that the sixth Potter book will be out. But I'm not holding my breath. Anyway, as you can probably tell - this chapter was awful to write. It was meant to be somewhat wistful, mysterious, and romantic, and in the end, it just came off as stupid. sigh The bedroom part is meant to be left up to your own imagination. As I can't write sex. In theory, I can, but only because I read a lot of slash. Which wouldn't really work here.

Breath-Holding The Next Episode: Alls not well in Paradise. Expect a twist, and witness the first few days of Draco and Hermione's relationship.

Breath-Holding Reviewers:

Elizabeth Tears - its always more, more, more with you isn't it? :P Love yah darhling. Thanks for reviewing.

RedAndGold4LeafClovers - yay! welcome new reader :D please tell all you friends.

RedAndGold4LeafClovers - just like romeo and juliet... ahahaha. no! ahem the whole point of rj in the play was to trivialise the tragic tormented forbidden-ness of their love. clearly it didnt work so hermione and draco just pounced on each other. coughs but i love romeo and juliet. i dont care what anyone says. it is romantic, and it is lovely. yes, no doubt i'll slap harry and ron in there somewhere. seriously though, there shall be a plot. and harry's a whiner.

Thallion - my favourite reviewer! glomps (i've always wanted to use that word!)

Xia Sarrasri - wow, you are acutally online! alert the press! :P thank you dearie, coming from you it means an awful lot :D

PinkTribeChick - yes they did. and they shall again! once i remove mr. malfoy from my closet o' love. whistles

Xia - snerf better than you?!!

citcat299 - thank you indeed :D alas, I am horrible at grammar. beta, beta, anyone?

Xia Sarrasri my dear, I'm glad you like it and I shall continue! just for you :)

potts - they seemed pretty cosy to me ;)

Medea Callous - thank you

Medea Callous - a bit of both really, but I'll be damned if I'm going to write a Draco-loo scene.