The Tragedy of Chemistry (DM/HG)

The Things I Want to Do to You

Hermione recognized the leather couch in his living room, surrounded by books with the most enticing old covers. She loved this room – if she'd had the time she would pry through titles and genres just to discover what kind of books would be in his possession. It would quite easily be on the top of her priority list if he hadn't poisoned her pure mind with his mouth and body.

Right now, all she could focus on was the throbbing of her own heartbeat in her ears from the adrenaline rushing through her veins. The promise of another night with him. Would he be sweet and longing with the occasional use of lewd words? Would he be rougher, now that she wasn't a virgin anymore? She shivered in untouched anticipation.

She had no idea what she really liked yet, how could she? All she knew was that his experience and his words made her crave more of him.

However, Draco wasn't in the living room. She had waited a couple of minutes in the narrow hallway of The Three Broomsticks just to make sure nobody was lurking and listening to where she was headed. The last thing she wanted was for people to know who she was spending the night with.

After drawing a painful deep breath, she slowly walked past the sofa with her fingertips faintly brushing the leather surface of the backrest.

She barely remembered the way to his bedroom or anything else than the toilet where she had spent hours with him holding and stroking her hair. Something in her stomach fluttered at the blurred memory of his gentle touch.

Her pinky finger was about to slip from the surface of the sofa when she heard slow steps approaching from behind. She stopped in her tracks, held her breath and closed her eyes. Yes, she was nervous but also excited for what was to come. After what had happened between them last week, she felt this invisible, very keen string towards him pull behind her navel.

His stride was unhurried, agonizingly slow – as if he intended to torture her. She stood and waited until his hands brushed her hips and pulled her back into him with a soft thud as her backside hit his front. She pushed against him in an instinct, in the promise of being held and cherished.

He didn't speak until his cheek touched her ear and he pulled back to have his lips touch the shell of it.

"Did he touch you?" Draco's voice was not more than a low rumble, the vibration from it washing over her like a suffocating wave of longing.

The question just confirmed what he had feared; that he disliked the fact that she had spent time with one of his closest friends.

She shook her head, her eyes slowly opening when his fingers dug into her hips. He held her so tight, and she didn't want him to let go. She was losing or maybe finding herself – she wasn't sure.

"Did you want him to?" This time his words were softer, and his grip loosened. She turned her head to the side, his lips nibbing at her earlobe. His breath left shivers running up and down her spine. She wanted to face him, but his body didn't waver at the attempt. She blinked when his fingers held her in place, his thumbs hooked between her bare skin and the hem of her sweater. The pressure from it made her blink in utter consumption of his presence.

"No." She didn't have to think about her answer, she was as honest as she could be.

A long, tension filled silence surrounded them. Deep down she knew that he wasn't jealous, but the illusion of him developing a fictive possessiveness over her person aroused her.

"Good. I've been fucking hard since hours, and I would have hated to kick you out now." As if he wanted to proof his point, he bucked his hips into her harshly and pulled her impossibly close. His hard length was pressed against her lower back, and she couldn't do anything else but bite her lower lip and relax against his frame.