Chapter 20

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Maybe it's just the two who walk with a head of denial. Denial that the others touch felt good, relieving, needed, new. They haven't felt it before, not once.

It's the thrill that rushes through their veins, as the other's body is ever so close. It's the repelling thoughts they carry for the other, slightly drifting away as they feel each others breath hit them dangerously close. It's the fact that Hermione hadn't felt that good since acing her potions test, and Malfoy hadn't had a breath of relief since his lips touch the bottle of firewhiskey, or the drugs that kept his peace.

Yet the second their lips come into that needed contact, it feels like they push their morals to a immense extent. The moment their skin grazes against one another its bliss in the best and worst way. 

They didn't know a touch could do such a thing.

They never liked touch. Hermione never felt any different with or without another's hand, and Malfoy never trusted anyone enough for such a thing. 

Yet his tongue still grazed against her skin, and his teeth left their imrpint on her necks highpoint  with unfathomable desire. At the same time his hands trailed along her legs warmth, and it was nothing but cold against her skins heat. And their bodies physically gravitated towards the other leaving not a single space for breath, no they shared the same capacity.

And what did it feel like to him?

Ecstacy.

Pure and dripping.

All of it.

The second his thumb ran along her dampened bottom lip he let loose, his teeth were rampid, his hand touched all the right places. Her panted breath was bliss to his ears, he could play it on repeat and never get tired of the sound. They're heads raged with retaliation, they know it's wrong, but they still let the other touch their skin like it was the last. 

And they'd do It again.

That was one of the worst parts. 

They might be opposites, but they fell under the others touch like it was inevitable.

Yet after it all it feels as if they cant look the others way. They cant exchange a word, and their piercing stares are staggering. They couldn't pin why. 

Regret? How could it be when they know they'd do it again? 

Yet when he looks her way he needs to remove his glance quick before he stares a second too long. It hurt Hermione to see him walk past with a lack of a glance.

But he did in fact look her way whilst given a chance, just when she wasn't looking.

She questions why he turns the other way, when their touch told a different story. 

She feels the drop in her stomach when the thought of regret passes her mind. But when it came to Malfoy she wasn't too surprised. 

Malfoy had to keep his head high and eyes away from hers, because that was merely in his nature. It was who he was. Yet something in her wanted to believe otherwise. 

It's as if his hands still graze against her skin, and his lips still enclose around hers, and it's as if he's still there. Yet thats days back.

But their words haven't exchanged for hours upon hours. 

Fuck Hermione...stop thinking about it.

She wishes It were that simple.

She spends time around the manor more than in her actual room. She sees him occasionally walk along the halls, but he's not slow in his stride when he eyes her.

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