Lonely Reign, Part 6

Friday, 10.14 pm, Great Hall

The feast was delicious, and Draco was an exceptional dancer. He was in a good mood, and in top form—Laura couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed so hard.

“Are you having a good time?” Hannah asked when she, Susan, and Laura managed to find a moment to speak together.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Laura admitted.

“Is it true that Crabbe and Goyle are each other’s dates?” Susan asked, sending the three girls into a flurry of giggles.

“Of course not,” Laura replied, but couldn’t prevent a grin. “They just couldn’t get anyone to go with them, so they came alone… together.”

“Like Harry and Ron and Hermione,” Hannah said, and they looked across the room to regard Gryffindor’s ‘dream team’ as Draco scathingly called them. Ron’s swooping arm movements showed him to be demonstrating some elaborate Quidditch move to Harry, who was watching carefully and nodding. Hermione stood beside them sipping a cup of punch and looking distinctly out of sorts.

“Let’s go over there and rescue Hermione before she damages them,” Susan suggested. “Wouldn’t want the poor boys to be bruised.”

“Heavens, no,” Hannah agreed, and they started over but were impeded by the arrival of Roger Davies.

“Hi, Laura,” he said to her, smiling. “You look spiffing.”

“Thanks, Roger. You look very good, too.”

“Care for a stroll in the rose garden?”

It was a bit stuffy in the hall, and she still felt bad about turning down his invitation. “I’d love to,” she accepted, and took his arm. “Let’s leave quickly,” she whispered as they made their way to the doors. “Draco might stop us if he sees.”

Roger shot her a grin and sped them outside.

“Oh, it’s lovely here,” Laura exclaimed. The area had been enchanted to be warm, and the perfume from the roses wafted around them in a heady cloud while fairy lights sparkled through the bushes. Roger steered her around a corner to a darker area with a bench, sitting and patted the seat beside him.

She smiled shyly as she sat, looking down, and he kissed her hand. ““Not as lovely as you.” He reached an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest, and kissed her.

At first he was gentle, his lips merely moving over hers, but quickly became more enthusiastic, forcing her mouth open to plunge his tongue inside.

“Uh, Roger…” Laura protested weakly. “That’s enough.”

“Never enough,” he said thickly, covering her body with his and pressing her back against the bench while his hand roughly grabbed at her lace-covered breast.

“Ow! Roger, stop!” Laura said as he squeezed her quite hard.

His fingers found her nipple and pinched it viciously. “You taste so good, Laura,” he muttered, trailing kisses down her throat before shoving his hand up her skirts. “Oh, and you feel good too,” he groaned, and shoving his hand into her knickers.

“Roger! Stop!” she shrieked as his clumsy fingers mauled her, then screaming in pain when he jammed a finger roughly into her.

Then he was gone, flying through the air to land in a heap on the crushed gravel path, and Draco was standing over her like an avenging angel. His hair was mussed, and his face… his face was a terrible, beautiful sight to behold.

“Cover yourself,” he said, his voice tight, and Laura scrambled to obey, smoothing her skirt with trembling fingers.

Draco swept cold, cold eyes over Roger’s rumpled form before bending to sweep Laura into his arms and striding away. Ignoring the curious glances of those around them, he carried her all the way to the dungeons, through the Slytherin common room, to Millicent’s dorm.

Laura shivered in his arms, her face buried against his neck until he deposited her on Pansy’s bed.

“Do you want to see Pomfrey?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Too embarrassed,” she mumbled.

He cocked his head to the side. “Are you hurt?” Laura nodded slowly. “Show me.” His face showed nothing but remote concern, and she slowly peeled the shoulder of her gown away to reveal her right breast. It was mottled with bruises, and the nipple was very swollen. Draco flicked his wand over her and the bruises disappeared. Laura sighed in relief as the swelling reduced dramatically.

“Anywhere else?” he asked calmly.

Laura felt her cheeks burn furiously, and she studied the pattern of her lace dress, tracing it with her fingertip while nodding. “I think… I may be bleeding,” she ventured.

“Will you let me look?”

She looked at him, looked into his eyes, and saw nothing there but cool, almost clinical interest. “All right,” she murmured.

He lifted her skirts and pulled away the remaining shred of her knickers. Bruises were already showing, like ugly blue flowers, on the tender skin of her thighs. “I have to… look more,” he told her. She nodded, and he carefully parted her.

Her flesh was enflamed and red, there was at least one crescent-shaped wound where Roger’s fingernail had bitten into her, and there was a tiny, jagged flap of skin that oozed a trickle of blood. With a wave of his wand and some whispered words, he healed her carefully.

Sitting back on his heels, satisfied she was in no more pain, he looked up at her pale, strained face and then bent close to her again.

“Draco!” she exclaimed at the first touch of his mouth on her. “What are you doing?”

He slid his tongue sinuously over her clitoris, making her gasp, before glancing up. “Giving you a good memory to replace the bad,” he replied, and fluttered his tongue between her fragile inner lips.

“Oh, Merlin,” Laura groaned, falling back on the bed as waves of pleasure assaulted her. It took almost no time at all before she was undulating her pelvis to meet his talented mouth, soft cries escaping her until she peaked with a sharp, strangled cry.

Draco sat back again, licking his lips and arranging her skirts neatly over her legs once more. “Feeling better?”

Laura smiled lazily at him. “Oh, yes, indeed.”

He smirked. “Excellent.” Then he became serious again. “You realize that you are no longer, officially at least, a virgin.”

She sobered, the post-orgasmic euphoria leaving her abruptly, and looked away. “I know.”

His hand dropped to her shoulder briefly. “Not as bad as it seems, Madley,” he told her. “Could have been worse.”

“I know,” she replied softly, and covered his hand with hers, squeezing it in gratitude. “Thank you so much, Draco. If you hadn’t come when you had…”

“There was a reason I didn’t want you go with Davies,” he interrupted her. “I did a little research. He’s been a naughty boy, he has.” Draco was glaring at her fiercely, his eyes blazing. “I refused him so you wouldn’t have to endure his unwanted attentions.”

“I should have listened to you,” Laura whispered. “I thought you were only doing it because…”

“Because I’m an imperious bastard who likes to play with the lives of those around me?” She nodded dumbly, and he smirked. “Well, I am, so it’s no surprise that you’d think that.” Then he leaned forward, so close she could smell the faint scent of herself on his breath, and shivered. “But whatever my motives, you are to obey me. Is that clear?”

It galled her, but she agreed.

The door thumped open then, and Millicent stood there, eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“Madley’s staying here tonight,” Draco informed his housemate. “Get her settled, then join me in the common room. Are the others here?” She nodded. “Very good.” He left.

Millicent provided Laura with pajamas that were vastly too big for her and a new toothbrush before going downstairs, not saying a word. Laura was content to leave it that way, too, and sank with relief into Pansy’s bed. She was asleep almost immediately.


On Monday after the Yule Ball, the school was abuzz with the news that Blaise Zabini had beat the stuffing out of Roger Davies. Both boys were interrogated, but Blaise protested his innocence (he had, after all, four witnesses to attest to his continued presence) and Roger refused to name his assailant so there was nothing to be done but send him to the infirmary to be healed.

On Tuesday word got around that Vincent Crabbe had pummeled Roger Davies into the ground, but it couldn’t be proven and Roger wasn’t talking.

Wednesday, everyone was whispering about how Gregory Goyle had broken both of Roger Davies’ arms and smashed his face in. No witnesses stepped forward, and this time, Roger couldn’t talk, so the perpetrator remained a mystery.

On Thursday, Millicent Bulstrode was observed favoring her right hand and rubbing her knee around the same time that Roger Davies was being treated for a broken nose and ruptured testicle by Madam Pomfrey.

Friday morning, Roger was carried to the infirmary with blood soaking through his shirt. Apparently, someone had carved something into his chest, but exactly what it was remained a mystery. Also a mystery was the reason behind Draco Malfoy’s light step and happy smile the rest of the day.

Laura Madley, who everyone had believed to be associating with the Slytherins only under duress, cried and hugged them all goodbye with great enthusiasm at King’s Cross Station. Blaise, Vincent, and Gregory submitted with patient humour, Millicent surprised everyone by hugging the Hufflepuff back and sniffling a little herself, and Draco held himself quite stiffly and peeled her away as soon as possible.

In all, a very peculiar week.