A fire in the chest
Tears. Sobs. Short breaths. That was all she could hear, all she could make.
The door of the Room of Requirement had opened to Hermione half an hour before she sat down and cried. It had taken the shape of a bedroom with windows filled of light, stone walls with ancient portraits on them, an old painted ceiling. It was a medieval chamber.
She didn't know why it had taken that shape, but it felt warm and comforting to her. The events at the Department of Mysteries had completely changed her. HE was back. And all his Deatheaters with him. And Sirius. Sirius died.
Harry didn't even bother to speak, being in total shock. And Ron was thinking of asking Lavender Brown out. Thinking of this last thought, she burst into tears again. She didn't hear the noise of an opening door.
Her logical mind didn't even make her think that someone would come in. It was impossible. It was her room for the moment. Eyes still closed, she listened to her sharp and irregular breaths.
Draco hadn't heard the sobbing before coming in. The door suddenly appeared in front of him, and he had just gotten in. He had prepared himself to leave, deranged by the noise of sorrow, but he was also curious to see who was in such pain.
He took a few quiet steps into the room. It reminded him his own room, in an old medieval style... But he still couldn't identify the source of the sobbing. He stepped aside of the bed, and discovered her in the corner.
He saw the tears roll down her red cheeks, her messy hair covering her face, her hands shaking in despair over her hunched body. He knew who she was. Deep inside of him, he knew why she had come here. Because maybe he came for the same reasons.
Hesitating on what to do, seeing she still hadn't noticed him, he slowly sat in front of her, facing her. He waited for her to realise that she was not alone any more.
Hermione slowly lifted her head as she heard a sharp breath. She couldn't dare to look higher, because she saw by his tie that the person squatting in front of her was no other than Draco Malfoy. She hardly swallowed and felt sweaty.
"If you came here to mock me, there's nothing left you can use, it's all out and far away, by now."
Shocked by her bitterness, he replied:
" I didn't even know you were here. The door appeared and I came in, that's all. By the way, you're too miserable to mock, Mudblo-"
"Don't say this!" She screamed.
"Don't deny what you are! You prefer me to call you Muggleborn? That's the same to me, and I must say it's much softer to my ears. The "Mud" in Mudblood reminds me too much of your kind..."
Furious, broken, she tried to hit him with her fist but ended punching the air.
"You think that's funny, do you?" she muttered angrily, feeling the tears coming back. It was his turn to use an angry tone.
"Of course, I love it! My father is in Askaban, maybe he will receive the Dementor's Kiss, The Dark Lord is back, and he will probably torture my whole family before killing us for failing at the Ministry of Magic!" He had shouted louder than he had wanted to, and Hermione broke again in tears.
A small warmth began to burn in him. He didn't know what it was. He had never felt such a thing, except when he was in the arms of his mother. He wanted it to grow, but also wanted it to stop.
He hoped that it wasn't created by the sobs of Hermione, because nothing would be worse than feel pleasure from others' suffering.
Of course he liked to make people cry, but not because of this. And it was not even his fault there, it was Voldemort's. The small flame slowly set his chest on fire as he looked closely to Hermione. He wanted to touch her, to make her feel better.
Wait, what?!
He swore to himself a long time ago that he wouldn't feel this any more by looking at this girl. He had felt this small warmth in him since the first day he saw her, at the train station. But he swore. He swore that never he would feel it again.
Instead of putting his hands on her shivering body, his eyes traced her features, her shapes, her curves behind her robes. He mentally undressed her. He pictured her in his arms, moaning of pain and pleasure at the same time.
The nasty mask behind which he was defending himself crumbled and faded as these thoughts invaded his mind. Insults were slowly chased from his brain, replaced by not much appropriate thoughts.
He shivered at these.
She had slowly reduced her crying, and he thanked God. He hated hearing people crying. It reminded him of his mother, when she locked herself in her room and let it all out, thinking nobody was there to hear.
Her head was on her knees, and she simply breathed, trying to calm herself, not even looking at the Slytherin sitting with her. He never thought we would have done that. He had made an oath. But apparently, oaths are made to be broken. And oh, he broke that one so well.
He was in fact very close to her. His hand slowly reached her face and pushed away the curtains of wild hair that hid it. Her eyes suddenly locked on his, he could read in them panic and excitement.
And then, he placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her on his lips.
He thought she would've pushed away, but she did not. Instead, she grabbed his hair and pushed him even harder on her own mouth. He could feel her lips slowly opening, letting him in. He slipped into her mouth and tasted her. He was heavily breathing on her skin, which made her quiver of excitement.
She felt furious against herself for doing this, but it felt so good... He was just delicious. She felt his warm hands slipping under her shirt, caressing her lower back. Her skin responded with soft shaking. His hands climbed her slowly, and reached her breasts. They slipped under the bra and began to gently rub them. She wanted to moan into his mouth but instead, she unclipped her underwear.
Then, she started to unbutton his own shirt. He was doing the same with hers, and she felt afraid. Thrilled, right, but afraid. Afraid to be betrayed, or afraid to be used. But she didn't speak and trusted his mouth. Like if she hadn't learnt from the past.
He carried her and gently deposed her on the bed, still lost into her delicious mouth. He climbed over her, and offered soft little kisses on her neck, slowly going down.
"One button left," he smirked, as his mouth reached the last button of her shirt that hadn't been opened.
He quickly undid it, and revealed her breasts to the day light. She was a bit anxious. He was the first man to catch more than a glance...
His hands climbed her shapes from her hips to her stomach, then slowly came to her breasts, and softly grabbed them. Then began to rub. That time, she couldn't help a soft moan coming from the roof of her mouth.
He began to undo her skirt, in a kind of hurried and excited way. As he was doing it, she took off his shirt and put it on a small table under the bed.
Her fingers traced his back as he finished to take her black school skirt away. She was there, lying on a bed, at his mercy and only in a small and tight pair of panties. Thinking about this made her interiorly laugh. Who would have guessed things had changed this way. He had also undone his own trousers, and was left in his boxers, on top of her, still buried in her neck. Her legs began convulsing as she felt a hard warmth against her lower stomach.
Her hips had begun to rock slightly by themselves. She clutched his back, looking for an answer as he was killing her with his soft kisses, now on her jaw. She felt him stop, and found herself craving for more.
"It's all up to you now," he whispered in her ear.
She knew what he was talking about. She couldn't help it. She couldn't wait. With some apprehension though, she slowly slid her hands down to his pelvis. She rubbed the peculiarly tight area between his legs, then pulled his head on her, looking for his wet and demanding lips. He understood the message, but made sure he didn't hurt her by mistake. His hands slowly made their way down to her lower lips, but before trying anything, he painstakingly pulled her underwear away. As she was completely naked, she felt so vulnerable, but also so excited.
His eyes were locked on hers as his hand slowly caressed her most sensible place. On top of her, his other hand was brushing her hair and he whispered: "it's going to be okay." He found it strange, that he had never pronounced these words before.
He was rubbing her entry, pressing a bit harder at each passage. She felt her hips rock slightly by themselves, pushing against his hand. With a worried face, he took his own pants away. His member, to the eyes of Hermione, was rather long and thick. She was feeling like it was going to hurt, and she swallowed hardly.
His hands hesitatingly grabbed her hips and pulled her under his pelvis. He put his tip on her lips, waiting for her to make the final decision. He leaned against her, and his skin having so much contact with hers made her shiver of pleasure. She grabbed his shoulders and locked her eyes on his.
"You can begin..."
He slowly pulled her on his member. Her delicious tightness was crushing him. He wanted to make her cry, he wanted to make her moan, to make her wail his name out of her whimpering mouth.
These thoughts had filled his mind before he saw she was in pain. Her legs had placed themselves circled around his back, he could feel every muscle of her body twitching. She had her eyes closed and her mouth shut, but he knew she wanted to cry.
He slowly slid into her, feeling her whole body tense. At the moment when she let out a whimper of pain, he caught her lower lip into his mouth, then sucked both. While advancing his jaw to deepen the kiss, she let out a cry into his mouth. Then another one. Then another one.
The tears slowly transformed into demanding moans. He quickened the pace as he saw her become even more tense, but not from pain. Her hips were desperately rubbing and pressing against his, visibly asking for him to go harder.
She couldn't help but slid a finger into her, trying to get the maximum level of pleasure she could have. Her breasts were dangling at the rhythm of the pace. Her pelvis now had convulsions she couldn't control : it was begging for mercy against Draco's hips.
He silently groaned as she was crushing his member. He had never felt someone being so tight, and he felt like he was going to explode. Each contact on her skin after each thrusting felt wild and delicious, and the noise it made only made him want to come back to it.
As her orgasm came, convulsions made her body shake. In a final pleading, her hips rocked so hard against Draco's that he came too. She released into a whimper that didn't seem to end. A hand of Draco grabbed one of her boobs and slowly rubbed the nipple, as his other hand was gently caressing her hip and her lower back.
Her legs were aching in pain when he got out of her. Her crotch was streaming of his semen and her juices. She couldn't close them yet.
She could hear him breathing next to her. Apparently, it was good sport. He stared at her, worried she might be hurt.
"It hurts a bit down there..." She whispered, out of breath, as an answer to his thoughts. "But it was so good."
He turned on her side of the bed and rubbed his hands in her lower back. "I promise that next time, it won't hurt a bit, Granger." He smirked, trying to lighten the mood. He didn't like to feel her hurt in that way.
She was melting into his eyes. She just had discovered a new person, and wanted to make sure she would always know him in that way.
He watched her painfully stand up, legs apart, trying to dress herself. She wiped the semen off her thighs. Her vagina was still convulsing, as if it didn't want to forget about that day. She simply put her underwear on and returned into the bed.
"I forgot it was week end tonight, maybe I can sleep a bit here before gowing to my common room..."
She curled in his arms, and the smile that was on the lips of the Slytherin had never been so warm.
~o~
My first real Dramione oneshot ever written. Tell me about it! I'm glad if you enjoyed! :3 xxx
