On Tuesday evening, she stepped through the fireplace to arrive in the tea room. She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if this was the right decision, but ultimately knew that if she could secure the next three installments of the inheritance, then it would all go away.
She took a seat at one of the nearby tables and waited until 7:59PM when the door to Madame Michele's office opened.
The small woman examined her through her glasses. Hermione stood.
"Mz Granger. I waz told you would not be taking anymore classes."
Hermione swallowed. "There was a misunderstanding, I'm afraid. I intend to finish these classes, and continue the deal I had with Lucius Malfoy. I would appreciate if you would relay that to him."
Madame Michele raised a wiry brow at her. "Very well, Mz Granger. I will do my best."
~*~
Hermione had owled Monsieur DuBois on Monday to reschedule the interior design class Draco had crashed, and Madame Bernard, whose hosting class Hermione had postponed on Sunday morning.
Madame Bernard had agreed to meet at 9PM on Tuesday directly after Madame Michele, and Monsieur DuBois had said only Wednesday at 7AM would work for him.
She had a feeling that they all planned this.
She arrived to work on Wednesday morning at five past eight, yawning. Draco was there when the lift opened, and he raised a brow at her as he handed her a cup of coffee.
"Rough night?"
"Yes." She didn't bother coming up with any kind of excuse. She sipped the coffee as they walked to her office, like every morning. As she pulled the cup away from her lips, she saw Kelsey, Mockridge's Associate, look at the two of them and smile down at her desk.
Hermione blinked. Were they too obvious?
"I've decided on a plan for lunch," Draco said, and Hermione focused on him. "Something to get our privacy back," he whispered to her.
Cornelia Waterstone had crashed lunch yesterday as well. And yesterday, Waterstone had accepted when Draco offered for her to have lunch with them. They hadn't had sex since Monday, or even touched each other. Which was suddenly very apparent to Hermione as Draco guided her to her own doorway, hand low on her back.
Draco continued, "I've booked a meeting on the Muggle-born Integration Program for this afternoon. We won't be needing any Wizengamot council on that." He raised a brow at her. "And, I guess, we could actually talk about it." He winked at her, and because his back was to the office floor, she was the only one to see.
She killed the smile on her lips. "I have the lunch meeting with Viktor today, remember?"
She watched the dream die on his face. "Ah, yes. Viktor." His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"I have a meeting tomorrow at lunch. And then I'm out of town on Friday." He frowned at her. "Are you free tomorrow night?"
She blinked at him. Tomorrow night? As in... a real date? And not just hanky-panky during the lunch hour?
"Er... I guess so." Dance class! "I mean, er, no. I'm not, actually." She looked away from him. "But I am free tonight." She looked back at him. She had no idea what it was he had planned, but she if he wanted to see her in any official capacity, she would do it.
He pouted. "Tonight is no good for me." He glared at the door frame. "I'll figure something out." He looked back at her, and touched her hip lightly before he walked away. She was sure no one could see, but she still melted a bit.
A few hours later she was headed out to her lunch with Viktor. They met at the same café she and Katya had gone to, and Hermione wondered if it was a Bulgarian thing.
He was already waiting for her, and he stood from the table when she entered.
"Hermyowne," he said, and she thought that was pretty darn close. He pulled her to him and kissed her on each cheek, brushing close to her lips.
They sat and chatted and laughed, and she found the perfect timing to bring up the Golden Snidget campaign. Luckily for her, having Viktor's support on this cost both Viktor and M.C.G. very little. He would need to be interviewed for The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet during their media campaign next week, and as they got closer to the court date, he would need to do a few ads against Golden Snidget hunting.
Viktor was very open to discussing it. He was attentive to everything she had to say, even if he did interrupt her every few minutes to tell her how beautiful she looked, or how her skin glowed when she was fired up about Snidget rights.
She tried to push down what Draco had said about Viktor only being interested in her and not the Snidgets.
At the end of the lunch, she offered to show him the new M.C.G. offices, and let him meet some of her coworkers, including Walter, who had tried his hardest to suppress his Viktor Krum fanaticism that morning.
Viktor walked with her across the street, and they took the service elevator up. Melody's eyes grew wide and greedy, and several girls in the cubicles did a double-take on Viktor Krum. Walter appeared out of nowhere and began shaking Viktor's hand, discussing some Quidditch-related thing. Hermione smiled politely as Wentworth poked his head out of his office and the three of them started in on some old World Cup story.
She stood at the front, watching as Melody tried to keep her eyes off of Viktor a few feet away, and sorted her mail.
Blaise almost knocked her over in the rush to get to Viktor Krum. As she righted herself, Draco appeared on her shoulder.
"How was your date?"
She ignored the phrasing and said, "Excellent. He'll be joining us next week for the media coverage. And he's very interested in the project, thank you very much." She lowered her voice and continued, "I didn't have to show him my tits or anything."
She felt Draco still next to her, and she smiled up at him innocently.
"Great news, Granger."
Viktor was making his way back to Hermione.
"Hermah-nee, I must be going." Viktor looked up at Draco and gave him a tight smile. "Hello, Malfoy."
"Krum," Draco said, extending his hand to shake. "We're so glad to have your support."
"Yes," Viktor said, pulling his hand away from Draco. "Anything for Harmany." Despite the mispronunciation, Viktor managed to very confidently take Hermione's hand and give her knuckles a kiss.
She smiled at him and offered to take him downstairs. She walked him out, past the deliveries door, and onto the street.
She promised to follow up with more details about the media day next week, and he let her know with deep eyes that she could contact him for anything she needed.
Hermione blushed and went to hug him. Viktor kissed her left cheek, then her right, and just as Hermione was pulling away to say farewell, he kissed her lips, soft and insistent.
She blinked at him as he pulled back. He gave her a dashing smile and walked away.
Hermione wandered back inside, stood with buzzing lips in the lifts, and when the doors opened and Draco was still there, pretending to sort mail, she tried to pass him.
"I don't like your Bulgarian," he said.
She looked up and Melody was preoccupied with something. No one could hear him. He looked up at her, checking her reaction. She steeled her eyes on him.
"I had to put up with yours. I lived," she said.
She raised a brow at him, and flounced away, into her office and out of sight.
~*~
The picture of Viktor kissing her on the lips was in Skeeter's society section on Thursday. Someone had followed them from the café, getting shots of them sitting together over croissants.
Ginny was very confused, but Hermione reassured her that it was nothing. Just a European thing.
Ginny pointed at the picture just as Viktor pressed his lips against hers, more than a peck, and said, "Yes, looks positively 'French' to me."
Hermione frowned at her and headed out the door.
When the lift doors opened, and Draco was not there with coffee, Hermione realized how many people read Skeeter's society section. She headed to her office, ignoring the stare from Kelsey, the intuitive associate, and closed her door behind her.
"'Old Flames Burn Brighter.'" A voice from her desk, and she looked over to see the Daily Prophet hovering in front of Draco's face as he read the title of the Skeeter section. He folded the paper over itself, and eyed her over the top. She noticed a cup of coffee placed on her desk next to her ink.
"What can I help you with, Mr. Malfoy?" She gave him a smarmy grin, as she hung up her coat and scarf on the coatrack.
She looked back at him and he was still leaning on the edge of her desk, reading the paper. He was smirking down at the words, but his eyes weren't moving and his lips were tight.
She walked over to him slowly, pulled down the paper from his face, and leaned up to kiss him. She pressed her lips over his, and he relaxed, bringing one arm to wrap around her waist. She moved her lips across his, lightly, coaxing him until he kissed her back firmly. He brought his hand to her cheek, dipping his tongue into her mouth.
She pulled back, and smiled against his lips. "I like our flame better."
He looked over her shoulder, trying to fight his smile. "I have a meeting in five minutes, or else I'd offer to pound you into this desk."
"Hmm." She blushed. "That's a shame." She reached around him, pressing against him on purpose, and grabbed her coffee cup. She smirked at him as she sipped.
"This week's installment of the inheritance transferred yesterday," he said, and she let the smile melt off her face. "It's usually on Tuesday evenings, but it was yesterday, at 8AM." He searched her face. "You don't know anything about that, though, do you Granger?"
She swallowed her coffee, and shook her head. "Maybe your father wants to give it to you after all?"
"Maybe," he hummed, searching her eyes. He moved her hair over her ear, and then kissed her on the cheek, then moved to the other cheek, and she was smiling before he could finish the same path Viktor had displayed in the papers. He kissed her lips.
He slid out from between her and the desk, and gave her a flirty grin as he left. She wandered to the door when she heard him greet someone at the elevators.
She leaned against her doorframe, and found Draco shaking hands with the same man from the governor's ball – the one Slughorn had introduced him to. She watched as Draco led him back to his office, and shut the door behind them.
~*~
Saturday couldn't come soon enough. Hermione wrapped up the books she'd previously borrowed and placed them next to her bag.
She checked her hair, dress, and makeup in the mirror again. It was very difficult to find something that was appropriate to wear to dinner with Narcissa Malfoy, and yet flirty enough to drive her whatever-he-was wild with desire. She'd settled for a Narcissa Malfoy approved dress, with some recently purchased Draco Malfoy approved undergarments.
She hadn't seen Draco since Thursday morning. He'd been swamped at work and then out of town on Friday. So that was now a total of five days since they'd had sex.
To put it mildly, she was ready to spend time with Draco tonight.
She took one last look in the mirror and stepped through her Floo to the Malfoy fireplace, into the entrance hall. At the base of the marble staircase, Narcissa Malfoy stood in long robes with her hands folded. Hermione took a moment to smile at her, feeling like she'd come home after a very long trip.
Before she could even get out a greeting, Mippy appeared in front of her.
"Miss! Mippy is happy to see you! Mippy has made an excellent soup for tonight, but Mippy could not find pumpkins! They're not in season! Mippy wanted to give you pumpkin soup!"
The elf's bright, round eyes shone up at her. Hermione smiled and said, "Thank you, Mippy. I'm sure whatever you've made is wonderful.
Mippy beamed. Narcissa coughed behind her, and Mippy nodded at her and moved to the side. Narcissa was there with a welcoming hug.
"Hermione, dear. I'm so happy to have you here."
She felt arms around her shoulders holding her close. She didn't realize that she missed Narcissa's smell.
"Thank you, Narcissa. I'm so happy to be here."
The older woman pulled back to smile at her, and said, "Let's get you set up in the library for a bit, should we?"
Mippy took the old books in Hermione's hands and popped away with them, as Hermione turned to follow Narcissa down the hallway, passing the busts. She kept her eyes off Lucius's stone face peering at her, and focused on where Draco's bust would one day stand, just to the side of the library doors.
Narcissa opened the library doors. It smelled just like she remembered it.
"Shall we sit for a bit?" Narcissa asked. "I don't want to take up too much of your browsing time."
"No, not at all. I would love to catch up."
Mippy, as if she had been waiting for those magic words, appeared holding a tray.
"Coffee, dear," Narcissa asked. "Or we have decaf as well?"
Though it was a bit late in the evening for caffeine, Hermione thought of the small amount of sleep she planned to get this evening, and hid her blush as she asked for caffeine.
Mippy poured, and she and Narcissa sat. So many things had changed and shifted since their first date in the library. Hermione wondered what Narcissa's grand scheme had been then.
They talked books. They talked Malfoy Consulting. They talked charity balls and the Chimaera that now resided in Gringotts and small anecdotes of Draco as a child. Every time Hermione brought her saucer below her cup, she caught Narcissa staring, lips pursed, and Hermione wondered if there were things she needed to un-learn.
Narcissa kept finding delicate ways to bring the conversation around to Draco – her biggest talent. Hermione was desperate to know if she knew about the two of them, but she was also sure that Narcissa's powers of perception were more impressive than she could have imagined.
"Narcissa," Hermione began, "I know this probably goes without saying, but I was sorry to hear about the divorce proceedings." Hermione looked down at her coffee. "Draco assured me that this was a good thing, but still, I wanted to express my sympathy for what you're going through."
She looked up, checking in with Narcissa and found a delicate smile on her lips.
"That's very kind of you, but yes, Draco is right. Everything is just as it should be." Narcissa replaced her cup on her saucer, and set it on the side table. "Lucius broke a deal with me. So I, in turn, am cashing in my chips." Narcissa turned back to her. "It's nothing Lucius didn't see coming."
Hermione nodded at her coffee cup, trying to understand the complexities of the Malfoy family drama.
"Well, dear," Narcissa said, "you have about an hour before dinner is served. Let me leave you to browse." Narcissa stood and Hermione followed suit. Narcissa pointed a finger at her. "And don't let me catch you leaving here with less than ten new books!"
Hermione laughed and thanked her. Narcissa produced the same basket that Draco had brought for her the last time she'd looked for books, and said, "Draco should be home in time for dinner."
She left her, standing in the middle of the library. Hermione smiled at the books, determined to discover something new today while she wandered. She forced herself to pass the instructional texts and old spellbooks, moving deeper into the stacks. She hadn't seen the back wall of the library before, so she started to feel a bit overwhelmed at the sheer size of the room.
Hermione had a passing, innocent thought that she would give anything to have free reign of the Malfoy library, to have amassed this collection, to be able to add to it, to be able to read every book in it.
And just as she found the back wall, complete with a window seat overlooking the gardens, Hermione realized that Draco Malfoy's wife would. Lady Malfoy would get not only control of the library and its contents and care, but the whole house. The renovations, the design, the gardens.
The interior design lessons with Monseiur DuBois. The hosting classes with Madame Bernard.
Hermione swallowed, searching out the window, and finding the gazebo.
She shook her head, turning away and focusing on the stacks. Focusing on the books. Solid and uncomplicated.
She took her time, examining the shelves, looking through old texts for hidden secrets. She placed a few that she wanted to take with her on the window seat, but again, she needed to consolidate. Her fingers had just ghosted over a book on Nicolas Flamel, one that she was almost positive would have aided the three of them in their first year, when she felt the air shift in her corner.
She looked over her shoulder, and Draco was there, leaning casually. Watching her. He smirked.
Her blood warmed in her veins as she grinned back at him. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it isn't polite to stare?" She raised a brow at him.
"She tried." He crossed his arms. "But she also told me to enjoy the beautiful things in life, so I find it a very difficult contradiction."
She blinked at him, and felt herself blush. She looked back down to the Nicolas Flamel book, flipping open the cover.
"Interesting finds?"
"Mm-hmm. In fact, I'm almost positive that if I'd had access to the Malfoy library over the past ten years, Voldemort wouldn't have had a chance." She grinned down at the table of contents.
She heard him stand tall, and move closer to her. "Well, the next time a dark wizard comes along, I'll make sure you have everything you need."
Hermione gave a small smile, her mind wandering to her earlier thoughts about who might have access to this library in the future.
"What are you reading now?" She felt his voice over her shoulder, felt the heat of his chest behind her as she stood facing the stacks.
"Nicolas Flamel. Alchemist. Philosopher's stone." One of his hands moved her hair off of her neck. "This book was written in the 1800s, before much was known about him." His left hand rested on her hip, over the light dress she'd worn. "So – so it mainly has conspiracy theories and possible sightings."
She felt his face near her own, his cheek brushing her ear. He looked over her shoulder at the book and hummed, "Mm-hmm." The sound sent shivers through her, and she knew he noticed.
"Probably not all that factual," she said, and the hand on her hip started rubbing small circles, his thumb just below her ribs, his fingers splayed across her hipbone. "But – but that's always a very interesting place to start... with research." She was regretting now how thin her dress was. She could feel the heat of his hand on her like there was no fabric at all. "Starting with the things that had been disqualified or proven wrong."
He hummed in her ear again, and her fingers squeezed on the book. She pressed her lips together, as he lowered his head to her neck, brushing his lips across her skin. She leaned back against his chest, and his right hand ran down her arm, leaving goosebumps along the way. She closed her eyes, thinking that the last time they'd truly been together was when he'd thrown her across his desk, her fingers squeezing the stone as he pounded his hips against her own, sucking on her skin.
His right hand finally reached her hand, holding the book. "Why don't you read me the Preface?" He flipped the page for her. She swallowed.
She took a deep breath, and tried to focus her glazing eyes on the pages in front of her.
"'Not much is known of Nicolas Flamel. I have tracked him over my fifty-four years, and I have made discoveries that I wish for the modern world to know of.'"
Hermione paused when Draco's hand left the book and joined his other on her waist, both now rubbing circles against her dress.
"Go on," he whispered. And his lips dropped to her neck again.
"'I have been to France, at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I have—'" His kisses were so light on her skin, that she almost wished for him to press harder. "'I have spoken with the remaining portraits who may know of Flamel and his wife Perenelle. They have told me many tales of young Nicolas...'"
Hermione's eyes closed for a moment. Draco's hand moved up the left side of her ribs, counting them as he travelled. His hand stopped before reaching her breast, letting each finger fit between a rib, and his thumb round the swell of her. She waited for him to touch her, eyelids fluttering, with his right hand still drawing circles on her hip and his lips painting patterns on her shoulder.
"What did the portraits have to say, Granger?" he mumbled against her skin, and a shock pulled through her stomach, squeezing her thighs together, and pulling at the skin on her chest until she knew her nipples were poking through the fabric.
She whimpered. "Um..." She opened her eyes, blinking to clear them. "'...tales of young Nicolas and his adventures at school. But some of them had seen him since. Some of them...'" She focused on the book as Draco's thumb started whispering across her breast, inching closer. His fingers lifted, cupping her, and his right hand slid down, down, gathering the fabric of her dress to get underneath. "'Some of them had seen Nicolas Flamel and his w-wife as recently as 1798, putting the Fl-flamels at around four-hundred-years-old.'"
Draco brought his right hand under the dress, and she felt the fabric flutter back down, ghosting across her knees as his fingers danced across her thighs. She knew she'd already made a mess of her new knickers. The knickers that Draco would see her in tonight, and she smiled, biting her lip as he brushed his hand against her. He bit down on her neck and she moaned. His left hand finally gave her what she wanted, moving over her breast, and then plucking at her, pulling and teasing through her dress, through her bra.
"Four-hundred-years-old is very old, isn't it, Granger?"
"Mm-hmm." She gasped. "Yes." She hissed.
The hand touching her over her knickers, moved up to her belly, and dipped under the elastic, running over and down, slipping through her.
She leaned into him, almost dropping the book.
"What else does it say," he whispered, then kissing against her jaw, sucking on her.
"I – I can't, Draco. Please."
He slipped a finger inside of her, slowly pushing in, and she gasped. He pushed his hips against her firmly, holding her up between his hips and the hand inside her knickers, and she felt him hard against her backside. The hand at her chest ran across to her other breast, trying to fight the fabric of her dress to let him under and inside. He pushed his hips against her again, and he flicked his thumb over her bud.
"Oh, god. Draco."
He added another finger inside of her and she could feel him huffing against her jaw, kissing her forgotten as he pushed in and out, pumping a slow rhythm while he moved his thumb against her quickly, his hips starting to grind.
She dropped the book. She ran her hands over his arms, trying to find something to hold onto.
"Put your hands on the shelves." His voice was gruff against her jaw. And her hands shot forward, leaning slightly, changing the angle of her hips that made the both of them moan. She felt him moving his hips quickly, faster as he rubbed at her, faster as she clenched around his fingers as they thrusted into her.
"Fuck," he hissed against her, straining. "I've wanted this..." He gasped against her ear. "Wanted this every time I saw you in the Hogwarts library."
She groaned, started to squeeze him. "Please, Draco."
The hand in her bra snapped down to her hips, holding her still as he rutted against her, the fingers inside of her slowed, but his thumb kept moving on her. She began to ride his hand, hearing him gasp as she moved against him.
A crack from behind them. A squeaky voice.
"Mippy is telling you that dinner is ready."
Hermione's hand slapped over her mouth, as Draco stilled behind her, one hand still inside her knickers. Her eyes were wide as Draco carefully slipped his fingers from her, moving his hand to her thigh.
He cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Mippy. We'll be there shortly."
A crack.
They were still.
Hermione laughed. She felt his forehead drop onto her neck and a curse whisper against her back. That made her laugh harder.
~*~
Dinner was lovely. In comparison to the first time she'd had dinner with Narcissa and Draco, it was a walk in the park.
When she said her goodbyes to Narcissa, thanking her and promising to see each other more often, Draco was already standing, waiting to "escort her out."
He walked her down the hall, passing the library, and out into the entrance hall. He turned at the bottom of the stairs and started to climb. He took her hand in his, and lead her up. Once on the third floor, they twisted through a few hallways, passing tapestries and statues. Hermione was ashamed to realize that Monsieur DuBois would be quite proud of her as she recognized many famous paintings and styles.
The moonlight shone in through a window they were approaching. Draco's fingers were warm on her skin. The window overlooked a small pond, and the white peacocks could just be seen in the dusk light. She stopped dead, looking out the large window, and Draco's hand was pulled from hers.
"Wow," she murmured.
She came to the window practically pressing her nose against it. She turned back to look at Draco and he was watching her. She smiled and let him lead her down the hall.
They passed a few doors, and stopped in front of an ornate wooden one. There was a dragon carved into the surface.
He looked at her, then took a steady breath and opened the door, pushing it aside so she could enter before him. She stepped inside.
It looked exactly how one would expect Draco Malfoy's bedroom to look. Canopy bed. Green curtains. Book shelves and armchairs. Fireplace. Plush carpeting. Doors leading out to a balcony.
Hermione giggled.
"What?"
She looked up at him, smiling, and saw he was watching her closely.
"It's just all very predictable. I love it." She laughed. He rolled his eyes and closed the door behind them.
She strolled around the room, twice the size of her bedroom at home, possibly the size of her entire apartment with Ginny, if you count the closet, ensuite bathroom, and balcony.
She went to the bookshelf, documenting the titles that Draco liked to have close to him. She let her fingers trail across the shelves.
She poked her head into the bathroom, finding a huge marble tub. She touched the curtains, let her eyes pass over a picture of Draco with Crabbe and Goyle, taken about fourth year.
He followed her as she explored, giving her a few feet of space, and she could feel his eyes on her.
She approached the closet door, and turned to ask permission. He nodded. She opened the walk-in closet and found mostly black and grey. She laughed again. She wandered in, and felt him come to lean in the doorway. She ran her hands over his clothes.
"We need to get you into some oranges and pinks." She winked at him.
His lips twitched, but he was still watching her. Nervous almost.
There was a set of drawers in the corner, and she almost asked permission to shuffle through them. She let her fingers run over the wood, and Draco shifted in the doorway. She turned to him and found that tense expression on his face again.
Hermione moved to him, wound her hands up his chest and into his hair, and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her to him. She parted his lips and tasted the wine from dinner on him, smiling against his mouth as he let his hands wander down and grab her backside. He pulled her close to him and sighed into her mouth.
"I like your bedroom, Draco."
His eyes fluttered open, dark and heady. He smiled down at her and kissed her again. She pulled back and looked down at his chest, shy suddenly.
"I have a surprise for you."
"Oh, really." His voice teased her.
"Yes, I think... I think you'll like it."
"When do I get my surprise." His hands were still cupping her backside, and he squeezed, then massaged, rubbing figures into her flesh. She felt a hot pulse of pleasure move through her, and she thought of how ready she had been to have him inside of her when they were in the library earlier.
"You'll need to, um... give me some space," she stuttered. He smiled down at her, and exited the closet, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. He smirked at her, and she felt a shiver go through her.
She stood in front of him, and reached back for the zipper on her dress. She got it down, and looked up at him as she pulled off one shoulder, then the other. When the fabric pulled past her bra, his eyes flashed at her.
It was a deep green color, with black lace on the edges. It was very thin, so thin that she knew he could see her nipples through it.
She pushed the dress down her waist, and let it slide down her hips, where she revealed green knickers to match.
He swallowed.
She stepped out of the dress, and stood there in only her bra, knickers, and heels. She pressed her lips closed, trying not to cover herself.
"Get on the bed."
She looked up at him and he was standing, moving to the side of the bed so she could get on it. His eyes were running over her body, up to her face, and then back down.
She smiled. Hermione moved to the bed, feeling the cool air against her skin, and feeling his eyes on her. She heard the smallest intake of air when she passed him, and he saw for the first time that her knickers were thong style. She saw his hand reach up and grasp the post of his bed.
She bit her lip, and decided to tease him. If she could.
She leaned down, bringing one knee to the bottom of the bed, and began to crawl to the center. She knew her barely covered ass was on display for him, and she tried to push her hips out even higher. She could hear him breathing.
She reached the center of his giant bed, and twisted her head to look at him.
"Like this?"
His eyes were on her backside. He swallowed and looked up at her face with hot eyes. "Lay down."
She smiled and twisted around so she was laying with her head on his pillows. She stared up at his canopy bed, and grinned. She brought her knees together demurely, as he moved to the foot of the bed, and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it somewhere, and began to crawl up the bed, like she had. She raised up on her elbows to watch him.
When his head reached her knees, he kissed each of them, over and over until they parted against her will. She could feel her breathing coming quicker now, and as his eyes watched her face, he kissed a path up her thigh, toward her pretty green underwear.
She bit her lip. He'd only put his mouth there the once, in his office, when she'd rambled about the giant squid to him. It was good. Very good. But he had distracted her then, and she knew she was already wet, and his eyes were devouring her green underwear as his lips got closer and closer.
She was about to maybe grab his head, pull him away from... down there, when he planted his mouth right on her, over her fancy green knickers.
She gasped, and found his sheets in her fists, her head landed on his pillows, and her knees tried to close, tried to keep him out, but he pushed her open with his hand on her thigh.
He kissed her over the fabric twice, once close to her entrance, and again just on top of her clit, and she growled something. She felt his tongue, swiping from bottom to top, over the fabric, pressing firm at the top, and the fabric and his tongue and the pressure –
"Fuck... Draco."
He lifted his head. She looked down at him and his eyes were glazed over and hot. His mouth was open and panting over her, she could feel the air hit her every time he breathed.
"Say it again."
She looked down at him, panting, and felt the words hit her panties.
"Draco..."
He shook his head at her, smirking. She felt the muscles inside of her flutter around nothing. She wanted him inside, something to clench down on. He still held her open, his hand on her thigh, starting to squeeze her.
"Fuck," she tried.
Draco smiled at her, and lowered his head, kissing her again. She moaned.
"Oh, fuck."
He laughed against her, and the sound and the air hit her right where she wanted him. He moved the hand off her thigh, and pulled her knickers to the side. Her eyes widened when she realized he wouldn't just take them off of her. He dipped his head, eyes watching her eyes, and let his tongue swirl down on her. He slipped inside, licking and pushing, then out again.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she gasped.
He groaned, with his tongue inside of her, and she grabbed his hair, pushing him down, forcing him closer. He lowered down on the bed on his elbow, and wrapped his arm under her thigh, opening her more, pushing her leg higher, her knee up and open.
She raised her hips. It was a sudden movement. And it brought him further inside. He moved his tongue faster against her. Quick lapping motions against her entrance. She raised her hips again.
"Oh, fuck, Draco."
Draco dragged his lips to her clit, moving the fabric aside with his hand, and moved quickly against her. She bucked against him again, pushing his face into her with her hands at the back of his head.
This was heaven. This was bliss. To feel him devouring her, not being able to breath and not caring.
Not being able to breath.
She released his head, moving her hands to the sheets again, and moaned. He came up for air quickly, sucking it in. He looked up at her.
"Let me know when you're close."
She watched as he pressed into her again, his tongue dancing across her. She didn't know how she would know when she was close. It happened so suddenly sometimes.
She brought her hands up to her breasts as he lapped at her. She moaned as she played with herself through the thin bra. She imagined his hands, tweaking and pulling.
She felt her muscles move inside of her. She wanted to close her legs on something. He had her wide open, and she wanted to clench down and ride something.
He groaned against her again and the sound sent waves through her. She grabbed at her breasts, pulling and pulling and another fluttering in her abdomen.
"I think... I think I'm ... Draco."
He looked up at her, and his eyes landed on her hands on her breasts. He made a sound against her again, and it moved through her.
"Fuck," she whispered.
The hand holding her knickers open, quickly moved to her entrance. He kept his eyes on her as he flicked her with his tongue, quicker and quicker, and she started to pull in different directions.
Two of his fingers finally entered her, pushing all the way in, and she clenched around them, and started to whine. He held them there, not moving, just pushed up inside, and sucked hard on her clit.
She felt her muscles clamp down, pleased to have something to hold onto. And she screamed as she flew over the edge.
On the way down, she could feel his fingers, pumping slowly, lazy. And his tongue working small listless circles. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, tongue on her.
"Fuck," she said again.
He laughed against her. He raised up onto his hands and crawled up her body, kissing her stomach along the way. He dropped light kisses onto each of her breasts through the sheer bra, and she smiled and bit her lip.
She could feel him hard against her hip as he hovered over her mouth and asked, "Can I kiss you like this?"
She blinked at him, not knowing what he meant, and then realized where his mouth had just been, and how her orgasm was still all over his lips.
"Um," she stuttered. "I guess so."
He smiled at her and shook his head. He grabbed a tissue from his side table and wiped his mouth. He kissed her jaw, her neck.
She was so happy. And almost sleepy. But he pressed against her stomach, firmly, grinding.
Should she... Should she return the favor?
She'd never... done that before.
She was suddenly wide awake.
Maybe he would talk her through it?
She reached down for his pants and started to unbuckle him. He sighed against her neck.
He pulled back and helped her, sitting back on his knees, and staring down at her, licking his lips.
Well, that didn't take long. She was hot again.
She pushed at his shoulders until he was on his back. He laughed at her, and she crawled on top of him. Her hair was around her shoulders and she pressed her lips against his, forgetting that he tasted like her. She gasped as he pushed into her mouth.
She pulled back and kissed down his chest. One of his hands came to her head, moving through her hair. She looked up at him and his eyes were dark. She kissed one of his nipples and his lips quirked at her.
Alright, not so sensitive there.
She dipped her head, continuing down, and he gasped when he figured out her intentions. She looked up and his eyes were wide and watching her. She kissed him again, lower, and his jaw opened. She watched as his breath came out heavier the lower she got.
She started pulling at his trousers and he sat up, grabbing her arms.
"You don't have to."
She sat up and looked at him. "You don't want me to?"
His mouth opened. And closed. And he didn't say anything. She looked down at his waist again, and saw how ready he was. She kissed his stomach, and Draco laid back.
"Oh, Merlin," he whispered.
She pulled his trousers over his hips, and swallowed as she stared at the front of his boxers. She didn't know what to do. She saw his stomach muscles clench, and she looked up at his face, eyes on her.
"We don't – " He reached for her, sitting up again. "There's so many things I want to do tonight. Every night. We can try that later."
His hands slid down her arms, and he kissed her, pressing his tongue inside and she tasted herself.
"Can we do something else instead?" he asked.
She tried not to feel ashamed, and inexperienced. So, she just nodded.
He moved her off of him, and took off his trousers completely, followed by his boxers. She was so glad they didn't go with plan A, as she truly got a look at him.
He pulled her knickers down to her knees and she finished taking them off along with her heels. She reached for her bra, and he stopped her. "No, I never want you to take that off." He smiled against her lips and she smiled back. He pressed over her, him completely naked now and her still in her bra.
He opened her knees wide, pressing against her, and kissed her on the mouth again. Once she pulled her knees up, pressing alongside of him, he turned them, flipping onto his back. Her hair fell around them as she pulled up.
"Can we try like this?" he asked, looking up from the pillows.
Plan A might have been easier. She didn't know how to... move like he did.
"I... don't know how to..."
He smiled up at her and licked his lips. "Let's figure it out."
He brought his hands up to her hips, and pulled her gently down on top of him, sliding against her. She pressed her lips together, her bottom half still very wet from earlier.
She brought her hands to his chest, pressing against him as she raised up, and let him guide himself into her. He slipped in easily, and she tried to relax, closing her eyes, and lowered down onto his hips. She thought he was all the way inside, but he was still stretching into her. Her muscles clenched on him, trying to accommodate him, and he moaned.
She opened her eyes and found his squeezed closed, breath coming quickly.
She didn't know what to do next. She tried reversing the motion, and lifted up again, letting him slide almost all the way out of her and then coming back down again. His eyes snapped open to watch her.
She pushed her hair out of the way, over her shoulder, and he must have liked that because his hands squeezed her hips.
She raised up again, trying to go faster, but knowing that this pace was going to be difficult. She could feel her thighs shaking already.
She was just about to ask him to take over. She looked up at his face and found him panting, devouring her with his eyes, licking his lips, and squeezing his fingers on her hips.
She tried a few more strokes. He reached up and pulled at her breast. She gasped, and found one more stroke in her. She leaned her arms on his chest again, putting her weight on him, and the angle changed. She caught her breath as both his hands came up to her chest. Squeezing and lifting and tugging at her through the bra. Her hips bucked against him, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
She tried it again, and he groaned.
Well, this she could do. And it was starting to feel okay for her too. She slammed her hips forward. Short, sharp movements, and he panted, grabbing at her ribs.
She came down again, placing her hands beside his head. Her hair fell over her shoulder again and she left it there as his eyes darkened. She thrust her hips in this angle and she could feel the base of him on her sensitive bud. She did it again, and bucked again. And she picked up the pace.
"Yes," he hissed.
She looked up at his face and it was tight, and eyes pressed closed. She rode him again, forward, and forward, and down, down, down. And his hips rose up to meet hers. He groaned.
"Granger, yes. Oh, fuck yes." He moved one hand to her hip, pulling her forward as his hips snapped up, and his other hand moved between their bodies, and the extra pressure made her gasp.
She watched his face, hovering over him, as he started to take over the pace. She didn't care. His hips rose to meet her as his hand pulled her down on him. She spread her knees wider, and it brought her closer, opening more, and she held her breath as he started moving his fingers fast on her. Over and over and she didn't know she was able to come again. She thought this was for him. But she felt herself getting lighter and lighter. She kissed him, and he growled into her mouth, her hair tangling between their lips.
Her hips were barely moving now, just rutting quickly, pushing against his hand that was on her clit. She was clenching against him, and he was panting in her mouth. She pulled up, raising back up, tall on his hips. She felt like she could do this now.
She moved her hips quickly from here, forward, forward, forward. His eyes watched her, and his hips found a rhythm again. Up against her, up, up, up.
She brought her hands to her breasts again. He groaned deep in his throat and he started pounding upwards, quicker. She watched him, his eyes rolling in his head and his lip between his teeth. He was sweating hard, and she knew her chest was damp too.
She tried to move up and down again instead of forward. She bounced on him twice before he let out an "oh, yes."
She clenched her thighs, trying to keep a rhythm of up and down and up and down. His fingers started moving on her clit again. She gasped and bounced two more times before she started clenching around him, her muscles fluttering and grabbing him, she couldn't bounce anymore. Couldn't do anything.
She was falling. Her back hit the mattress and she realized he had flipped them. She was still clenching him, moaning and screaming and grabbing his shoulders, and pushing her nails into his back, but he started pounding her into the mattress. His hips moved aggressively but she didn't care. He was groaning in her ears. He was panting, and cursing and she was still clenching inside and she didn't know when it would stop. She ran her hands into his hair and he bit down on her neck as he stuttered, rhythm failing. He yelled something against her skin and snapped his hips four more times before pressing forward and holding himself against her, straining. She found another ledge to fall over.
She screamed and felt her inside muscles massaging him, pulling him closer and closer. She felt the stars behind her eyelids and felt his skin breaking under her nails.
She panted against him. He was heavy on her and she couldn't catch her breath.
"I can't... oh, my god. I can't breathe."
He lifted up, and looked into her eyes. He stayed inside of her as she caught her breath. Every few seconds her muscles would hold him again. And she had no idea what it felt like for him but for her it was like never ending agony. Perfect agony.
He finally pulled out of her, and she felt another wave hit her without him inside.
"Ugh, no. Please come back." She grabbed at his shoulders. He laughed. She bit her lip, still trying to figure out if she was still in the middle of an orgasm.
He pressed his head against her chest. He kissed each of her breasts over and over, alternating kisses. She just watched him, waiting for another wave that never came.
"You're the most perfect thing in the world," he whispered against her breast. She felt the air pass the fabric and if he asked her, she would go again. Right now.
He turned over to lay on his back, and dragged her body with him. She laid her head on his chest, and was struck by how much better a sleepover was than an office tryst or a chaise lounge in a governor's ball. She got to lay here. With him.
And he had invited her to stay the night, so there was no need for any awkward gathering of clothes and "see you next time."
He pulled the duvet up around them. She sat up and took off the bra, tossing it in a random direction. As she laid back down, his eyes were taking in her bare chest. She pressed against his side, laying on one hip, draping her leg across his.
"I'm coming back. For the bed," she announced. She smiled and closed her eyes.
His chest rumbled. "Just the bed?"
"And your mother, of course. The bed. And your mother."
"And the library."
"And the library. The bed, your mother, and the library."
He ran a hand up and down her arm lightly.
"My mother was very glad to have you over," he said.
She smiled against his chest. "I'm very glad to be friends with her again. I missed her."
Draco sighed. "That was my fault, I'm afraid." She lifted her head and looked up at him. He stared at the ceiling. "I told her to stay away from you. After your visit to Azkaban. After she miscalculated her control over my father." He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I told her not to contact you again."
She blinked at his face. "Oh." She thought of Narcissa and her last conversation before the estrangement. The way she'd frosted at her when Hermione said she would not be marrying Draco. She wondered if that was something Narcissa told him... "I'm actually quite glad to hear that. She's the closest thing I feel I have to a mother. So, I'm glad to hear she hadn't given up on me."
He squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry."
She turned and kissed his arm where she lay on it. She felt lazy and exhausted for the first time, and the hand rubbing down her arm was delicious.
"Have you ever gone down to Australia?"
And she was wide awake again. "To... to see my parents?" He nodded. "No. No, I don't... I don't really think I'd want to see them if they didn't remember me." She let her eyes drift across the room. "If I had to pretend to be someone else."
He continued his strokes on her arm. She counted them as they lay in silence. On the fourth one he said, "Have you looked into counter-curses?"
She felt her eyes drifting closed. "A little bit. There's not been any success with reversing memory charms that deep. Removing an event is easy. You can recover it over time. But removing a person..." She swallowed and opened her eyes, not knowing they were closed. "It's too many events."
He nodded. She could feel it. He waited six strokes of his arm this time, before saying "I'm sorry you had to do that."
Her eyes couldn't open. But she nodded a bit. "I know."
"And I'm sorry I was on that mission. The one at your house."
"It's fine," she hummed. "You wouldn't have hurt them." She heard her voice drifting. "I saw it on your face."
She counted nine more strokes against her arm before she fell asleep for good. After another three, his arm stilled.
~*~
She woke up in the dark. She turned to cuddle into Draco's side, and fall back asleep again, but he wasn't there.
She sat up. And looked around the dim room. Was he in the bathroom?
As her eyes adjusted, she found his form, sitting on the edge of the bed, at the foot. His back was to her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice groggy.
She watched as his back moved with every breath, slow and steady.
"Did Potter help you?"
She blinked. She pulled the duvet up around her chest. "What?"
"Potter helped you get to the memories?"
The room was cold. She was very awake. And he was very far away.
"I... I don't know what you—"
"It's just like Hogwarts, isn't it? You and Potter running around under an Invisibility Cloak, doing whatever the fuck you want, while the rest of us have to play by the rules."
Her throat was tight. She'd said something. As she was falling asleep. It was so clear now that it was the wrong thing to say.
"Draco. I'm ... I'm sorry –"
"Do you know how difficult it was for me to release those memories to the Wizengamot, Granger?" His back was still to her. His voice was cold but quiet. "You know how hard I work to keep people out of my mind."
She squeezed her eyes shut, begging to go back to sleep. This was so much worse now that she knew about his Occlumency.
"I wanted to know you," she said. "I wanted to understand you." She knew she should have better explanations than this. "I needed to know why your blood was on my living room walls."
"I told you why," he hissed. "You asked and I told you."
"Never the whole truth. You always leave something out."
He stood, very suddenly and whipped around to look at her. "Who says you're entitled to the whole truth?"
His eyes were bright and hot. He'd put his boxers back on, and she was still naked in his bed, clutching the sheets to her. She pressed her lips together.
"I don't know how to apologize for this," she said, and her voice broke.
"Which ones," he said.
"What?"
"Which ones did you watch? Or did you grab some popcorn and play them all?"
She took a deep breath. "No. Just two. The one at my house. And the night the Snatchers brought us to Malfoy Manor."
His face twisted. "Why?"
She felt the tears blinding her. "I needed to know why you saved us. I needed to understand—"
He prowled to her. "Why do you keep using that word!" He came around the side of the bed. "I didn't save you, Granger," he snarled. "I did nothing." His eyes flickered. "You were screaming on my drawing room floor and I stood there."
She took a shaky breath. "That's not how I saw it."
"Oh, I'm so glad we both have seen these memories so now we can debate them," he snapped.
She clenched her jaw. "You did your best, Draco. You tried to help us then, and you would have helped me if there was an Auction. That's all I wanted to know about." She edged to the end of the bed, holding the sheets to her. "When you told me about the Auction for the first time, you told me you'd sell me for a profit. But your father told me something completely different."
Draco clenched his hands into fists and paced away from her.
"So, I had to know!" she called after him as he moved through the room. "And I could tell he was right. You would have saved me."
"There's that word again," he spat. He turned back to her and stalked to the bed. "You think I would have saved you at that Auction, Granger? You think I gathered all available funds, reached out to all relatives and contacts, so that I could set you free? Sent you running with a stolen wand?"
The breath heaved in her chest as she watched him, his eyes glinting at her.
"The room we passed on the way to mine? The first door? That was your room." He stopped in front of her, sneering. "You were never getting out of here." He smirked, shaking his head. "I don't know why I bothered lying about recognizing you that night. You were always going to end up a prisoner in Malfoy Manor."
Her neck was hot. "So, you're telling me that belonging to you would have been the same as any other Death Eater?" His eye twitched and she pressed on. "I would have served your dinner and been your entertainment at parties. Crucio'd when I disobeyed – at best. Passed around like a whore?"
His eye twitched again and he had to look away from her.
"I've had plenty of time to think on this, Draco, so let me know when to stop –"
"Stop."
She shook her head at him. "You would have saved me. It wouldn't have been freedom, but it would have been the best you could have done. You would have saved me from that life—"
"Do you think I would have been able to keep away from you?" He glared at her. "That you would have lived out your days here and remained untouched."
"Yes," she said. "Don't try to scare me, Draco. I know what kind of person you truly are."
"Ah, yes. You've seen the worst of me, haven't you, Granger." He sneered at her. He prowled to the doors to the balcony. "Just needed to tip a memory into a basin and it's like we've known each other forever."
She pounded her fists into the bed. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry. I didn't think I had another choice. I wanted to know you. I wanted to understand you—"
He spun around. "Then ASK, Hermione. Don't take!"
She felt the syllables of her given name hit her across the face, as if he'd actually slapped her. Practically the same words she'd used against him a few weeks ago, about not assuming things about her. And asking permission.
She felt the first tear fall.
"I'd like for you to leave." He whispered it into the ground. She heard it bounce around the room. "Get out."
She didn't have anything else to say. She had no leg to stand on.
Draco turned, and headed into his washroom. He shut the door.
She sat there in his bed for two breaths. She stood, naked, and grabbed her dress from in front of his closet. She slipped her panties on, pulled the dress over her head, and grabbed her shoes.
She wanted to knock on the door. To beg him. To sit with her back against the wall until he came out and forgave her.
She left his room.
She had no idea where she was. She looked at the tapestries and walked to the end of the hall, looking both ways, wishing she already knew the layout of his wing. She turned and found a door, the room next to his.
Her room.
She swallowed. "Mippy."
A crack.
"Miss!"
"Can you help me get out of here? Find me a fireplace?"
"What is Miss doing here so late!"
The little girl elf stared up at her with wide, sleepy eyes. Hermione felt more tears on her cheeks, and didn't bother stopping them.
"Just..." She shook her head, closing her eyes. "...ruining everything."
And for the second time in a handful of months, she found herself making a dramatic exit from Malfoy Manor, and the boy inside of it.