Disclaimer: This fanfic is being written with the utmost respect for JK Rowling and the incredible universe she has created, with no copyright infringements intended whatsoever.
I'm writing this fic for siriuslymrsmalfoy7's challenge (in response to Chapter 8 in Baby the Stars Shine Bright).
So, here are the details of her Challenge:
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Type: Romance/Angst and a splash of fluff
Rating: M
Setting/Timeline: AU Post-Hogwarts, during a prolonged war. A few years after they would have left Hogwarts but the Wizarding war against Voldemort is still happening. Draco and Hermione are both Order members. Draco can be a spy like Snape.
Must include: The quote - "Our hearts beat so loud the neighbours think we're *fudging* when I'm really just trying to find the nerve to touch your face" - Andrea Gibson. A theme and feeling similar to the song One More Night by Maroon Five (not the actual song playing).
Other Details: A pair of lovers who, at first, don't want to admit they're in love. Must contain Lime.
Prompts: velvet, scars, father, Slytherin, angelic.
I thought this was a really interesting concept to explore, so here it is! My attempt at making this prompt a reality :) hope you like it!
Thank you, to my boyfriend and my friends krystalMage and siriuslymrsmalfoy7 for your criticism on this chapter and all the improvements your opinions contributed to the writing of this one shot. =3 It is deeply appreciated.
A Sin for Draco Malfoy
During the battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort should have been defeated. Harry Potter should have been able to destroy the last Horcrux, and erase all existence of the Dark Lord and the world should have been rid of his darkness. After all the deaths, pain and sacrifice, Wizarding Britain shouldn't still be plagued by the darkness lurking in every corner: wizards and witches untrusting of their own shadows, even their homes were no longer a safe shelter to the dangers of this new world order.
Harry Potter had valiantly tried to defeat Lord Voldemort, risking his life to achieve such a goal, but even that hadn't been enough. In the end, if Narcissa Malfoy hadn't rescued the boy, he would have died in vain.
It had been a difficult decision for the witch to make, one which would put her life, and her family's well fare in danger, but she simply couldn't leave the boy. A boy whose age was the same as her own son, who had already suffered so much at the hands of fate, to have his life taken by the Dark Lord. Narcissa had to cunningly deceive a vast amount of wizards and witches, to be able to pull off such a stunt. A stunt which, Narcissa Malfoy herself, to this day wasn't quite sure how she had pulled off. She supposed the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix had helped her cover her tracks, eager to add her cooperation and alliance to their efforts, especially when so many had already been lost and few were the members they could still count on.
The wake of her actions, however, had a domino effect that nobody could have predicted. Several Death Eaters had seen reason to her defiance, most of them no longer caring for the false ideals proclaimed and promised by the Dark Lord, knowing that they were simply aiding him in his demented quest for endless power and immortality, and deciding to fight instead, for a safe future for their offspring and wizarding kind, away from the blood thirsty tyranny that was Lord Voldemort's reign.
As such, a rebellious force rose from within the Death Eater fraction, they were a group of witches and wizards who'd had a change of heart, who had been inspired by Narcissa's brave actions and unwavering beliefs of the young bespectacled wizard and his courageous attempt to change the future, who wanted to follow in his lead, in any way they could.
That was how Draco Malfoy currently found himself cursed with the same role his former mentor, Severus Snape, had embodied before him. Draco Malfoy had been, for a five years now, a double-agent. Never to be entirely trusted by either parties, neither by the Order of the Phoenix, nor by the Death Eater fraction. His role was severely different from that of most of the rebels, led by his mother. While the Death Eater rebels worked from the inside to boycott missions and orders given directly by Voldemort, without being traced, Draco Malfoy had to work from within the Dark Lord's direct inner circle, carrying out missions that could endanger the Order's efforts, all the while remaining faithful to them without being caught by Lord Voldemort, who believed him to be a Severus Snape's successor.
The tremendous loneliness he felt, however, while enduring this double life couldn't be shared with anyone. Not with his mother, nor his father; not even with any of the Order Members who seemed to keep a distance from him in wariness. They could never understand the pain caused by their cold gazes, the briefness in which they spoke to him, the hushed whispers that followed his every step and, above all, the prison he was caged in. No longer was Draco allowed to the simple pleasures he had experienced during his Hogwarts years, of asking a girl out for a drink, of a pleasant talk with a friend, of a fun night out getting pissed as a Black.
There had no freedom for Draco in this new life he'd chosen. Recently, however, he'd found one way to escape, even if only briefly, for a few moments or hours at a time, this escapade had come in circumstances he would have never even dreamed of becoming reality. If somebody had told him seven months ago, that Hermione Granger would have given him any kind of freedom, though little as it was, Draco would have laughed and questioned their sanity. Things had changed, however during the past six months that built up to this moment, when he'd first been assigned to work with the brightest witch of their time, Hermione Granger. Until then, she'd been just another agent of the Order and someone who he simply would have never wanted to work with, someone he would have never guessed would become his current obsession. Hermione Granger was Draco Malfoy's very own dirty little secret, one he would have to lock under seven keys if he wished for their survival. Yet, despite the danger in which he placed both their lives in, he still went to her every night, promising himself it would be the last time and breaking the same promise the following night, in a vicious cycle that didn't want to end.
With a deep breath Draco Malfoy knocked on the rough, faded wooden door he had grown to know so well, feeling its cool smoothness under his knuckles, and lavishing on the suspense of the way that same breath always caught in his throat as he waited impatiently for the woman standing on the other side, to open the door. Draco could feel his heart racing in his chest, pumping hot lava through his veins, until the door finally opened and he was able to release the breath he'd been holding.
Tonight, her hair fell in shiny, romantic chestnut waves down her shoulders, framing a petite, heart shaped face, high cheekbones and feminine chin. Her black lined hazel eyes seemed to gleam in the dim light that came from behind her, whispering sweet seduction and delight through her amused gaze. She let him in her home, following after him, clad in only a red silk kimono, matching her rose red lips, mesmerizing him with the sensual sway of her hips, her fair skin tempting him against the black of her lace lingerie, the sheer black thigh-high stockings hugging her legs, in a hypnotizing fashion, that he wasn't quite sure how she could muster.
Draco was a hopeless witness to Hermione Granger's seduction, she was sin personified, a vision of all he couldn't have. She was the forbidden fruit, one he'd never even known he'd wanted to taste until had taken that first, delectable bite. She was the 'mudblood' who he had never been meant to touch. Through his short life, however, he'd been given no real reasons why he couldn't have her and when he'd looked for them, all he'd found was treason, so as payback he'd be claiming her as his, he would not suffer for the Dark Lord's misery.
And as simple as it was, his mind had lost all rational thought, giving into his carnal instincts once more, the only thing important being the soft frame wrapped in his arms, as his lips crashed violently into her red ones, soft and inviting, warm and forbidden, the freedom he'd been denied. She was bare for him to take, their ragged breaths mingled in the air, her sweet scent intoxicating him, like an addict who'd been given a fresh dose of his favourite drug. She was his drug, and no other could satisfy him. Not the way she did.
He revelled in the way her soft body trembled under his touch, the caged animal inside him releasing himself in ecstasy, in a trance that made her gasp and moan with the touch of his fingertips, Draco yearned to repeat the powerful sensation he felt every time her eyes lost focus when he tasted her, knowing it had been because of him. He loved the way all form of reason left him, when he smelt their scent mingled, how their bodies connected in perfect harmony when he buried himself in her, how she accompanied the rhythm of his thrusts instinctively, how her heat made him lose sight of all conscious thoughts and remained imprinted on his skin even hours after he'd left her, the feel of her flesh against his marked him like the Dark Mark. And as his body moved in hers, creating the perfect tension in the most beautiful tragic drama, they both finally shook in their climax with a cry to the moon.
No words needed to be spoken between them anymore. Not at this point. Draco knew as well as she did that this was nothing but lust… the satisfaction of carnal needs, the yearning for release. She was his escape and he was hers. They were each other's forbidden fruit, their platonic ticket to freedom, even if just for a few moments at a time. That was what he repeated to himself every time she entered his thoughts.
"It's the last time." His words were velvet whisper, as he lay next to her, cherishing the delicate weight of her head on his arm. He heard her smooth sigh, not quite sure if it meant in exasperation or content, feeling the way her chest heaved as she lay down beside him. He felt her nod into him as she softly fell into slumber.
He was still unsure why he would always let her fall into sleep before he left, but he always did. He imagined it was the illusion of companionship, or maybe it was her warmth. Whatever it was, he couldn't physically leave her until she fell into a deep slumber. Only then would Draco gently raise himself from her bed, and retreat to his own, cold reality.
A very tedious reality, where he could only show the mask of ice he'd so carefully constructed, hiding the burning feelings of passion, the obsession that made him feel alive, the need to sin again, to lose himself to his addiction.
And like that, he left her home, knowing fully well he'd break his word as soon as an opportunity stroke.
xXx
Six months earlier, Hermione Granger paced in her small apartment floor. The Order had assigned her to work with double-agent Draco Malfoy. They would have to collaborate in acquiring intelligence off the enemy and interpreting it, in a way that wouldn't cause suspicion to the enemy and have them lose their double agent, and still be able to work in time against Lord Voldemort.
Hermione had been selected as interpreter for this particular task, due to her high level of intelligence, her cunning ability to decipher enigmas and the trust the Order had on her judgement and strategic plans, to ensure all their hard work had achieved wouldn't go to waste, by losing a double agent, or worse, to alert Lord Voldemort of their secret activities.
She sighed nervously, pinning her hair up into a messy bun and retreating to her kitchen for a bite of…anything that could keep her mind busy. She'd have to work with her long-time nemesis, let him into her home and spend time with him. She really wasn't sure what made her more nervous, if it was the prospect of working with that tosser or the mission itself.
She grabbed a striking red apple, taking a bite off it, and paced around her kitchen floor thinking of how she would have to act. Hermione Granger wasn't in the best stage in her life to work with that idiot. Not after having found out her father had cancer. Not when she knew that she couldn't even give him her support, or so much as send him her love and wishes that he would get better. She'd have to keep her false pretence of not having ever existed in her parent's lives. She needed to protect them, those two sweet muggles who had loved and cherished her for the better part of her life, to ensure nobody would find out who they were or where they were. Today was not a good day to get taunted by that sodding snob Malfoy. She'd just lose her temper as always, instead of concentrating on the task she's been given, which was already hard enough to focus on, given her present predicament.
A heavy, frustrated sigh escaped her lips, as she finally headed over to the living room and sat down, taking another bite off the succulent apple. She just wanted to use everything she had, every second of every moment in her life to end this war. To be back with her parents and support them, to reverse the obliviation, to love them back as they had loved her. She dropped her forehead onto her right palm, foreseeing a headache arising. She'd have to get some painkillers and caffeine to get her going. It was too late to brew a potion that would alleviate headaches and relief her fatigue.
Just as she was about to stand up one more time, there was a soft knock on the door. The sound wasn't like the harsh one Ron always made when he came to visit, nor the hard and short one typical of Harry's visits, or even the slightly more melodic one announcing Ginny's arrival. This sound was soft as velvet, almost as if apologising for being there. She sighed anew, rising up, from the comfort of her couch, to open said door.
She murmured the enchants that guarded the flat, while flicking her wand, and manually opened the cherry wood door, exposing a ragged looking wizard, with long silver locks tied romantically at the nape of his neck, a few loose strands falling to frame his beautifully chiselled face. It had been a few years since Hermione had last seen Draco Malfoy, yet the wizard presented before her was nothing like the one she'd met years ago.
Even though he retained his handsome, aristocratic grace, the arrogance was gone from his manner. His dark, stormy grey eyes told her the story of a painful fight, and his body seemed to be holding itself by little. He looked drained and overworked. Definitely not the proud, arrogant wizard she'd once met.
"Well, are you going to let me in, or just stand there looking at me as if I'm a cross-dressing Shacklebolt?" he snapped curtly, delicate eyebrow raised and smirk in place. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as Hermione had first thought. She pursed her lips together, sending him a warning look. She led him in her living room, letting him sit near her working table, with all sorts of maps spread over it, each tinted with specific markings and notes sprawled across it, strategically planning any and every sort of attack they could receive, zones in high danger of attack, and weak spots.
Draco was silently impressed with the detailed knowledge these maps would provide to someone who knew what to look for. He looked over at the witch, to find her moving away from him, into a closed door, which he presumed was her room, and coming back with two small blue boxes, and conjured a glass of water in front of her. He curiously saw her remove a small silvery tablet out of each of the boxes and snap two white round pills from each; he frowned slightly, not understanding their purpose, when he saw her pop them into her mouth and drink the water to swallow them.
She wiped her mouth and left the two boxes on a coffee table, enchanting the glass away, while sitting next to him. "What was that?" Draco couldn't help but ask her, letting his curiously take over.
She looked up at him in surprise, "Muggle medicine. One alleviates headaches, the other gives you a caffeine boost, erasing fatigue and tiredness." She explained calmly, "Would you like some?" she offered, knowing he'd refuse her offer flat out, even if he needed it.
"Thank you, but I just don't trust anything muggle made." He replied unsurprisingly. Some things would never change, she let a small smile play on her lips as she thought of this. "Well, let's get cracking then. Shacklebolt told me you had information that could be crucial to defeating the Dark Lord in the following months, as well as intelligence on strategy, numbers and attacks planned by the Death Eater fraction. Shall we start by that?"
Both of them were quite surprised by how smoothly their time together had gone. Hermione would have thought their meeting would have been a subtle insult fest, with each attacking the other, while Draco thought he wouldn't bear the witch's 'know it all attitude'. But, while both had been pleasantly surprised, neither would ever concede to telling the other how they had actually enjoyed working together.
xXx
A few days had passed since that first meeting, and Draco Malfoy knew it was time to plan the next visit already. While something inside him stirred at the prospect of seeing the young witch once more, another part of him rationalised it, by explaining it was all because of the attack they were planning, that all his years of hard work, deceit and danger would finally meet their purpose and that he would be able to put them to an end.
Images of the night replayed in the young wizard's head, as he recalled the night spent at her place. The cosy feeling that her living room had, the startlingly feminine decoration of her house, with flower pots in almost every corner, the soft smell of orchids filling the room, mixed with the scent of cherry wood furniture, the soft cushions filling every couch, the wide windows letting in the soft light of the moon into the room, and he couldn't help but feel that it made him know her better. Hermione Granger, that was.
He'd never known, or cared to know much about the witch. He'd always felt a secret envy to her academic brilliance, corrupted by pure-blood ideals that taught him no muggle born was allowed to know more than a wizard that came from an all wizarding family. He'd always felt inferior to the witch due to her intellect, and that alone had made him hate her for many years. Undoubtedly his father's attitude towards the girl had definitely affected his own judgment at the time, clouding his mind from the analytical perception that was now his most revered attribute.
From that night he'd learned that, although a genius, Hermione Granger was somewhat aloof to many aspects of personal contact, her expressions were always genuine, with nothing guarded from sight. What you saw was what you got with the witch, and he supposed he could see a certain charm in that, a naïveté Draco hadn't seen on anyone since his Hogwarts years. Even Potter and Weasley were always guarded around him, especially around him, he'd corrected himself. But not Granger.
He smiled softly thinking of the way her eyes had shined and face brightened to any new piece of information he would give her, any ideas or thoughts he'd present her with, how she'd been grateful for his help, how she'd appreciated him. Appreciation was something Draco was seldom rewarded with, as everyone regarded him with too much distrust. Even his own parents were far too consumed with fear, for him, for themselves, for their lives, to appreciate the wizard Draco had sculpted himself into.
Yet, quite simply, that witch had given him that same feeling throughout the entire night they had worked together, while brewing tea, which he'd ended up reluctantly accepting, and enthusiastically planning strategies to overcome Voldemort's reign of terror. At first he'd thought the witch's plan was simply a ploy to have him trust her, while she hid her own motives, but it wasn't soon after that he realised she was pure in all her words and efforts.
He almost smirked as a sudden thought entered his mind, as the need to maybe…tease her during the following occasion they would be together overtook him. He could almost see it happening, the way his words would cause a soft tint to reach her cheeks, her eyes growing in surprise, soft lips forming a perfect 'o'…
By then, he knew his thoughts had gone too far, and shook himself off those ideas. They had work to do, and Draco couldn't let his selfish, sinful impulses take over, no matter how delightful they might be to imagine. As long as he didn't act on his thoughts, Draco Malfoy would be fine. He could restrain himself.
xXx
Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and each week Draco and Hermione would see each other in a meeting. Even when Draco didn't have anything new from his spying work to share with Hermione, he would still drop by her place. He supposed he enjoyed her company, the fact that in this witch alone, he found no restraints or judgement against him.
Just the company and simplicity of, dare he think, a friend. He sat on the couch next to her, as she went over diaries and schedules, analysing each last detail of all the information she had been given by him until then. He looked at the witch, surprised to find himself entranced by her smooth gestures, the way she chewed on her thumb every time she was mulling over a difficult problem, how her delicate white fingers would twist her hair over to one side of her shoulder, exposing the tempting silky skin of her neck.
Draco Malfoy was stunned to find himself surprised by his own actions. Since when had bookish Hermione Granger become worth of being observed in that fashion? In the way he would regard a very attractive woman? She didn't care much for her looks, nor did she care to dress fashionably. She never really took time to style her hair, or apply make-up. She was far too natural to attract someone like him, who had always gone for obvious beauties.
However, he thought to himself, he supposed that after having spent so much time in the witch's company, it was inevitable that he would obviously had more time to look at her, than he had during Hogwarts years, or any other time for that matter. And while Hermione Granger would never stop traffic with her looks, nor ever be regarded as a beauty, she had a certain sensuality that was unique to her alone.
Her sensuality surfaced in the way she would hold her fingers to her lips when in deep thought, how she would delicately caress her neck whenever she was tired, over the way she lay over her couch, belly down and book in hand, while analysing any written pieces of information. It was also in the way she would look towards him like a lazy cat who couldn't be bothered, when he asked her a question and she was concentrated on her reading. Or in the secretive smile she would display when she had found out something new, which she would only share when she thought was the right time.
Her sensuality as a woman, Draco realised, came from her power and intellect. But Hermione Granger, Draco reminded himself, was definitely not his type.
"Didn't you use to have a cat-kneazle?" Draco asked, absently playing with a lock of his own hair, as he reclined on her couch. She momentarily stopped her reading, to look at him, giving him his favourite lazy cat look. How had he become so accustomed to her, he wondered? How had she become someone who he had the need to see every single week, considering that only a month ago, she was someone he wouldn't ever think he would be seeing again?
She finally sighed, shifting from her lying down position, to sitting on the couch, hands folded over her lap. "Crookshanks… He's currently residing with the Weasley's…" another sigh. "He'll have to stay there until I find a place that allows pets." Her gaze was sad when she said it, continuing on the subject. "You see, I tend to move around a lot…" She was now looking at him, talking to him as someone she trusted. "Because of my work in the Order, and my importance, I have to move my location constantly, to avoid any attacks. As many spells as I know, I can't guard myself all the time, and unfortunately, we don't have enough people on our side to dispense any for defend someone like myself." She finished silently.
He nodded, understanding her cause for sadness. He imagined she would have felt quite lonely with a life such as this, where even her own pet had to be taken away every once in a while. He supposed she could not always be allowed to have a home which allowed pets, when moving from place to place so often. "Do you have any tea?" He asked, eager to change the subject, which made him feel awkward. How could he deal with a sad woman he wasn't close enough to comfort?
Hermione nodded, with a brief smile "If you go in the kitchen, you'll find the herbs on the top counter, the kettle is already on the stove, so you only need to heat it up." She finished. Draco smiled back, making his way into the kitchen. Their familiarity was so new to him, yet seemed to be so right. It was as if all those years of rivalry between them had only brought them closer together, knowing exactly which boundaries should be crossed, and witch shouldn't.
He found himself enjoying her company more and more every day, he smiled to himself while heating the stove, and opening the cupboard. He selected mint, apple and cinnamon herbs which he placed into the teapot, pouring the water in once it had been boiled and leaving it to brew. A few minutes later, he filled both cups with the tea and took them over to the table.
He noted her cheeks were wet, and her eyes were quite puffy, and frowned. Why would she have been crying? "Is everything alright, Granger?" He asked, voice filled with genuine concern.
She sniffed and smiled back, and even though he knew what left her mouth was a complete lie, he let it be. "Yes, everything's fine. And I think it's time you start calling me by my first name, don't you?" She changed subject, which he knew, was only to distract him and keep him from asking any more questions. Never the less, Draco was nothing if not brought up as one of the finest breeds of gentlemen, and so he smiled back charmingly.
"Why of course miss Granger. You may call me, Lord Malfoy yourself!" he retorted in amusement, receiving a slap on his arm, and a pout from the short witch. He still wondered what had caused the witch to cry however. He'd heard murmurs not long ago about that Weasley she'd been dating since Hogwarts being engaged to someone else, and wondered if that was the reason for her tears.
It seemed quite probable that it would be the reason. In any case, she was alone now, and if nothing else, he would enjoy her company.
xXx
"Who is he?" Ginny Weasley asked, over a cup of tea at a local muggle café. Her eyes scrutinized her, fiercely analysing her face, for any signs of weakness.
Hermione innocently gazed away, asking back in innocence, knowing fully well it would drive her friend mad with curiosity. "Who is who, I'm sorry?" Any other person would have believed the witch to be the image of honesty.
Still, she couldn't fool the younger witch, as a terrifying scowl formed in the ginger's face. She replied back, in a vicious tone, a typical attack strategy known to all members of the Weasley clan. "Whoever you've been seeing, that's who."
If Hermione had chosen to take her words seriously, they could easily have been confused with two rangers in a muggle western movie. However, she was having far too much fun tormenting her friend for that. For the first time in years, Hermione Granger knew something Ginny Weasley didn't, and she was going to have her fun hiding it from her. As such, she widened her eyes, feigning innocence, and asked back, "Whatever do you mean by that?"
Ginny's lips pursed into a thin, dangerous line. She was starting to lose her patience, and Hermione wasn't quite sure how far she could go with this little game of hide and seek. "I smelled men's cologne last time I went to your place." She started, causing Hermione to desperately hide her growing smile of amusement, "And I found this!" she slammed a pocket watch on the table. Hermione had seen that pocket watch many times, she knew better than anyone it was the property of none other than her most recurring guest, as of late, Draco Malfoy.
However, she knew Ginny too well to tell her the truth. She loved the witch to pieces, but really couldn't reveal she'd actually been spending time with Draco Malfoy, that wasn't spent working. Ginny simply wouldn't accept it, and Hermione felt she needed this part of her life to be private. She secretly enjoyed his company, his sense of humour, she admired his wits and intelligence, and even more secretly adored that conniving Slytherin part of him.
He entertained her, kept her company, challenged her mind, helped her solve problems… and kept her mind off other, more disruptive matters, when he was with her. After all the time they had spent together, she felt closer to him, than she currently felt to Ron, Ginny, or even Harry, who'd always been the friend she had gotten along the best with out of everyone.
Hermione simply couldn't accept that she could lose Draco's company so easily, if she bared her secret to Ginny. However, it wasn't easy to make the witch change her mind, so maybe a little white lie might help for now. "Well, he's not exactly someone I'm dating if that's what you're implying…" she drawled like a cat, watching her friend's eyes gleam with the little piece of gossip. "All I can tell you is that… We have great conversations and…" she whispered conspiratorially, "…a lot of tea." She grinned almost maliciously at the disappointed look Ginny Weasley responded with.
She looked ready to murder Hermione, but the witch didn't care. She was more interested in wondering when the dashing wizard would make his next appearance. Draco was Hermione's precious, forbidden secret.
xXx
Before either of them had realised it, it had been over three months since they had first been given this mission. Hermione sat, side by side with Draco Malfoy, they'd been hovering over the map for hours, discussing weak spots, and points where they could attack without raising much suspicion from the dark lord, that Draco had given them information, to slowly take the Death Eater fraction down, one by one.
The dilemmas seemed to never end, however, and the night just seemed to drag on. Both witch and wizard were exhausted, their heads consumed with a searing pain that seemed to block their vision, yet neither seemed keen on stopping their work. Not when they had so much left to do, not when they were this close… if all went well, in four months the Order of the Phoenix would win this war.
Once and for all…all the pain would be gone, along with the lies and secrets, and the fear and sorrow that consumed Wizarding England in its suffocating grasp. Draco was holding his head down, going over a problem he'd already discussed with Hermione so many times it had started to lose its meaning, unwilling to let go of it before it was solved. The more problems were solved that night, the sooner they could move on to the next.
"Would you like some tea?" He asked, finally deciding to take a short break before returning to solve the problem at hand. She turned her big, hazel eyes to his and nodded, with a slight, polite smile taking form on her lips. He got up, walking towards the kitchen, and summoned a kettle. He lay it on the stove, filling it with water, and put it to boil.
As he waited he thought to himself how much the short time he'd spent with the witch had seemed like an eternity. Never in a million years would Draco Malfoy have thought that he would be spending so much time with the smartarse muggle-born witch. He smirked as he thought this, shaking his head in amusement. Finally, the kettle announced the water was ready to be brewed.
He summoned a teapot, some herbs, and poured water into it, letting the relaxing smell of lemongrass and honey fill his senses when he heard a sound that surprised him: a sob. Startled, he went into the living room to ensure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.
As he looked at the couch, it was confirmed the sound was indeed real. Like sparkling diamonds, tears ran down the witch's face, in a silent whine. And Draco couldn't help but feel as if he'd been intruding on a very intimate moment, a moment he shouldn't have ever witnessed, however couldn't pull away from. He stood fascinated, captivated by the sorrow in her face, so like a statue of an angel in a cemetery, so pure was her expression, so truthful.
And a movement inside his chest caught his attention. It drummed against his ribcage, so forcefully, the feeling was almost alien to him. It was as if he was sinning, against all that his family had taught him, Draco found himself hypnotized by the 'mudblood' in front of him. Her honey looks falling in a dishevelled mess over her eyes, her lips puffy, and cheeks painted with tears, he felt as if he should touch her.
He didn't know what to say, what to do. He'd never really been in this position before, when a woman would simply start crying without any obvious reason. And sure, he'd caught her crying once, even though she had denied it at the time, but it was a completely different situation. Had it been something he had done? If so, what had it been? With little to no rest clouding his better judgement, Draco finally decided to voice his fears, to solve this issue, which confused him so. "Hermione...What's the matter?" He asked, as softly as he could with his husky voice, after spending so much time in silence.
She didn't look at him, as she inhaled loudly, trying to contain another muffled sob, and then said, while whipping her tears, "It's nothing Malfoy. Really."
But Draco Malfoy would not be satisfied by such an unsatisfactory answer. He raised his eyebrow delicately, dangerously. It was as if she had just awoken a predator from his slumber, and he would not stop until he caught his prey. "Then why are you crying?" His Slytherin tongue was faster than his mind, and before he knew it, he was using his taunting ways to get what he wanted. "Is it a muggle-born custom to simply start crying for no reason at all?"
He saw her startled eyes on him, finally directed at him, and filling with an angry fire, a fire that could consume anything it touched. And, secretly, Draco loved it. He had always loved riling up the witch, taunting her, getting a reaction off the normally composed witch. And finally, her words left her mouth, like only a true Gryffindor would answer, "It's none of your damn business, Malfoy." So, they were back to surnames.
He smirked wider, knowing he would get her to spill whatever she was hiding, sooner than she could even understand what was happening. "Why…" he cooed, "…Was it naughty Weasel who made you cry Granger? What did he do this time? Traded you for the boy-who-won't-die?" like velvet, his words left his lips, his eyes languidly going over her figure, unsure why he was even taking interest at all, but lavishing in the reaction he could get from her anyway.
She grit her teeth, "Ron is happily engaged to Lavender Brown, and has nothing to do with this." She started, making his smirk take a distinctively more malicious crook, and she immediately scowled at the wizard, who no doubt thought he had been right in his assumption. "And he didn't trade me, as you so kindly put it. I ended our relationship years ago, because I simply didn't think we were meant to be… And he realised that his heart belonged to Lavender, despite the friendship towards me he had confused with love." She finished, voice soft as snow, low as a whisper.
But Draco was still not satisfied. If it wasn't that idiot Weasel, what else could have made this beautiful witch break down in front of him? Again, the Slytherin tongue took over, seductively luring her into his trap, oh so subtly causing her to give in to him. "Are you crying because you're lonely, then, my little 'mudblood'?"
He hadn't even realised he'd said the word aloud before it had left his mouth, and for a split second, his heart had stopped. He knew how much he had come to think of the whole idea of the word 'mudblood' as utter crap, but she most probably didn't. She probably thought him an idiot supremacist dickhead for saying that.
And in his moment of surprise, he hadn't noticed the way her face had gotten oh so closer to his, hazel eyes so wide in front of him, so pure, luscious lips just begging to be touched, and her breath, it stilled his own respiratory tract, when it brushed his neck. And then she whispered, and her words were nothing that he could have ever expected. "How did you guess I was lonely?" And then he realised: Hermione Granger was not the 'little' witch he'd met so many years ago in Hogwarts.
And his heart drummed against his ribcage once more, dancing against it, trapped in a daze of what was forbidden to him. For Hermione Granger, he now realised, was a full grown woman. His eyes trailed the line from her neck, down to the hem of her shirt, tracing it down to the swell on her chest, the little curve visible to him making his imagination run a little wilder than it should have. Making him yearn for things he would have never thought he'd ever want. And then they went back to her lips, and he smirked, accepting her challenge, the deadly dance of power of who would succumb to the other first. A contest he hadn't once lost before.
And they were both so close, so near to each other, their hearts beat so loud, the neighbours probably thought they were fucking, when he was really just trying to find the nerve to touch her face. He saw the way her eyes widened, as his lips neared hers, almost closing the distance between them, breath tickling her face, eyes sensuously inviting her to give in to him.
"You are? That makes two of us then…" His smirk was elegant, sensual on his chiselled face, eyes sparkling with mischief. This was a Draco Malfoy, Hermione hadn't been acquainted with. And he scared her for the things he was making her feel, for the wild beating heart, excited with whatever was happening, even though the witch wasn't really sure herself, and slightly ashamed that her knickers hadn't stood a chance again this night.
Hermione was enraptured in feelings she hadn't known before, with a carnal lust she'd never felt for anyone she hadn't loved, with an excitement that made her skin prickle, and her stomach fill with fluttering wings, the need to give in and be taken by those lips. But she took a deep breath and contained herself. And before she realised it, she was pouring her heart out to him, to this strange wizard, who was for once honest with her, when he admitted he was lonely. And if Hermione Granger wanted to maintain her dignity that night, she would have to let him know what was going on with her, before her knickers were drenched beyond repair.
She inhaled a deep breath, "My father…" she started, moving away from him, reclining into the chair, closing her lids to prepare her words. How could she explain to a pure blood wizard, who knew absolutely naught about the Muggle world, what cancer was? "He has a muggle illness, called cancer." She managed to say, curiously to the very first person since she had found out. She saw the confusion in his eyes, sighed, and proceeded to explain. "Cancer is a deadly illness, where the body develops malignant tumours that invade parts of the body. They destroy the body from the inside, and the treatments for it are very scarce and expensive, with not a lot of odds in favour of being treated." She started, looking into his eyes, feeling the tears form in her eyes again. He was listening attentively, carefully.
She looked down, unable to continue looking at him, "The worst part is not being able to help him at all…not to see him, or even send him a card with my best wishes…" The tears were once again streaming down her cheeks, as she continued mustering up as much braveness as she could, "And I can't tell anyone… because if I do, he will kill them. If he knows they're related to me and alive, they will certainly die." Both of them knew the name of the wizard she'd mentioned; Voldemort. Draco knew that feeling all too well. Another hick-up escaped her lips. "And I can't tell anyone…Nobody, because they already have so much to deal with… Harry and Ginny, they're dealing with so much already, and Ron as well… How can I burden them with this, so selfishly?" She asked herself.
The answer she received surprised her as much as it did him though, as she felt herself being pulled into a warm, wordless embrace. An embrace from the least likely of people, a comfort from a wizard she hardly knew, yet understood her loneliness so well. She let herself fall into him, give into his spell of temporary escape, of momentary security, the illusion of someone who cared. And for a few moments, both witch and wizard stood in silence, content with the contact they shared, with a piece of humanity and warmth.
xXx
Hermione wondered why Malfoy hadn't scheduled a meeting with her ever since that night. He'd left in such a rush as well…Had she been a fool in revealing so much to him? She sighed, remembering her actions, how she'd tried to counter him with seduction and felt her cheeks burn. She felt like a little girl trying to out-do a master by having done that to him.
Her blush deepened when she remembered the way his eyes had wondered down her body, how hungry they had looked, how naughty she had felt, and worst of all, how she'd loved it all. How she had wanted even more from him than she had experienced, how incredibly turned on she'd been, even after he had left her place.
She sighed, getting up and sitting in front of her newly bought television set. Hermione had figured that it couldn't hurt knowing what muggles thought of the strange events sprouting all over England. At least that was the lie she'd told herself to buy it; in reality she really just missed watching films, the romances, and thrillers, how they made her dream of a normal life, transporting her away from her detestable reality.
She thought back to the way she'd burst into tears that night with Draco, how she'd spotted the place where she'd grown up with her parents, and how she missed those times. The innocence in that time, when magic was wonderful, and new and exciting, and how special she'd felt in having become a witch. How excited she'd been to discover all about this new world she was a part of, how she could have never guessed at that time that words such as 'mudblood' would have ever even existed.
A sigh escaped her lips, as she switched on the telly, lying sideways on her couch, and flicked through the channels. Just what did Malfoy think of her anyway? No sooner was he calling her a mudblood, than he was bringing his lips oh so close to her. A blush formed on her cheeks again, as she thought of the way his chest had felt against her. The smooth, strong, hardness, so male against her petite frame, which made her feel so sheltered, so secure, so…hot. The blush deepened further, as a love scene came across her on one of the channels, and her mind took her to wonder how it would feel like to be in that situation with him.
She breathed in, deciding she needed a nice cup of tea if she was ever to calm down.
xXx
It had been over a week since he'd last seen her. He needed to see her. He paced around his room in Malfoy Manor, thinking about all that had been shared between them that last night. How she'd surprisingly carried as many secrets as he did, how lonely she was, even though she was surrounded by people every day. People who needed her help, who wanted her intellect, who cared for nothing if not themselves, without giving her the care of day. And how very Slytherin it was of her to keep her feelings to herself, and carry on with her days as if everything was well. Draco couldn't help but admire the witch for her strong will, for her thirst to defeat the wizard, for her passion, intelligence, her attention to detail, her observations, even her strange sense of humour. He didn't know when it had started, or how, though he suspected it had been that night, but he found himself thinking more, and more about the witch.
He found himself feeling the need to be with her, when he least expected it. Found himself remembering her in a cup of tea, or in the smell of flowers. He didn't really know what to do anymore. This situation was a deep threat and danger to their mission, if the Dark Lord had read his mind and found her lingering there, not only him, but all their effort, all the years he'd given to this cause would be wasted. Gone in a matter of seconds.
He stopped pacing to lay on his bed, and thoughts of her lips invaded his mind, and he imagined how her lips would feel against his, how she would taste in his mouth, he thought of the way her full breasts clung to her shirt, how he'd wanted to feel them in his hands, how he wanted to run his hands down her curves, and explore what lay beneath her clothes.
He groaned, knowing full well that this was not the direction his thoughts should be going. After all, she was muggle born. And even though she may be an attractive woman, he should never even think of going there. He would disgrace his family if he ever acted on his carnal need alone. But in the back of his mind, a question made his way into his consciousness…What if…?
xXx
"What exactly is this black shiny rectangle, Hermione?" Draco asked, looking at the television set in Hermione's living room. It was the first time he'd come to visit the witch since the incident from the last time he'd been there. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. How could someone his age not know what a television set was? Even if he was a wizard.
"It's called a television, it shows the news, as well as television programs and films." She replied smoothly, picking up the remote and turning it on, startling him with the sudden sound and pictures moving. "See, that's the way muggles view the news, Draco." Her tone was distinctively patronising, Draco decided with a pout.
"Well, why do you need it? Can't you just read the paper?" He asked distrustful of the device. The witch shrugged, sitting on the couch next to him, and flicking to another channel. Maybe she would relax for a few hours today… just while he was there with her, she thought with a smile.
"Why yes, I can. But I find a telly to be so much more fun!" she grinned at him, changing into a channel that would show films all day long. She smiled when she saw the title of the movie announced to start next, it was a film based on books she had read so many times during her childhood and youth: 'The Lord of the Rings'.
She smiled again, noting the wizard sat beside her had his attention completely tuned to the television set, as the movie started. Hermione turned down all the lights, leaving only two lit candles behind them so it wouldn't become completely dark, letting her body, subconsciously, move closer to his. Half an hour had past, and her head now rested on his shoulder, and his hand was holding hers.
Her heart raced faster once she noted exactly how intimate their position was, hoping against hope that he wouldn't notice and push her away. She found herself enjoying the warmth of his body next to hers, the way his finger stroked her hand gently, and his chest would rise and fall so peacefully. She loved the little oasis they had created with the time they had spent with the other.
Once the film ended, Hermione was fast asleep on his shoulder, and oddly enough, Draco found it endearing. She was so much like a little kitten in her sleep, her head cuddled against him, hand holding his arm. He let himself stay still against her, enjoying the contact and warmth that came from her company, letting his attention be captured by another one of these muggle 'films'.
He felt himself wonder, if he could feel himself enjoying something brought on by the muggle world such as a 'television', what difference exactly was there to enjoying the company of Hermione Granger, also a product of the muggle world? He felt his heart tighten with an emotion he had yet to find the name for, staying still with her. Alas, their moment was taken by the sting of the dark mark in his arm, calling him to appear to Lord Voldemort and leave behind anything he cared for. His eyes sharpened. Voldemort could never know about this. He wouldn't let him take this away from him, not after all that he'd already taken.
His eyes softened when he looked beside him at the witch laying on his shoulder, mumbling protests when he shifted his position, so that he could carry her in his arms into the door that led, he supposed, to her room. He opened it, once again surprised with the femininity of her boudoir. All white and pink, with a soft cherry blossom motif, little pink lights were sprinkled on the wall on top of her bed, each dot was the centre of a cherry blossom that hung like ivy behind her bedpost. He smiled to himself, realising how adequate it was that her room was decorated in such fashion. It really reflected her sensitive nature.
He left her in her bed, covering her up and, without knowing why, planted a kiss on her forehead before he left. As he reached the door out of her room, he couldn't resist one last glance at the little sleeping beauty in the bed. He fumbled with the remote control the way he'd seen the witch do, pressing an array of buttons, until finding out which one would switch it off, and finally left, feeling a pang of loss squeeze his heart as he did so.
xXx
He knocked on the door, so cool and smooth beneath his fingers. The wood was worn out, unlike the inside which was newly waxed cherry wood, with a vibrant colour that reflected the care the witch took with her house and all her possessions. His heart was beating against his chest, drumming wildly, as he waited in suspense for her to open the door. The last few times he had seen her, they had both been reserved, even though he knew the longing in her eyes was reflected in his own.
They had both been containing themselves, trying to focus on the task at hand, the task which put so many lives at stake, the one which dictated the future of wizard kind. Only after they were done will all their plans, could they share it with everyone else, so that it could be decided on which course of action to go with.
And yet, none of that seemed to matter whenever he was with her, his mind was distracted by everything related to her. From her smell, to the furniture, her tastes, her interests, her voice, her body and her… everything. She lured him, like a soft rose to a raven, like a wicked temptation that seemed to entice him into committing the most dreadful and lovely of sins. Draco couldn't stop himself from falling into this obsession surrounding everything related to the witch.
When she opened the door, his breath caught in his throat, eyes widening slightly and heart furiously drumming against his chest, as thoughts of lustful desire filled his mind, for he'd never seen her this way. Like a tempting siren from the Grecian myths, her figure was almost bare to him, clad in a single satin black dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, enhancing her feminine shapes, hair styled in retro glamour waves, a side parting concealed her face partially, enhancing the sensuality of her smoky, black lined eyes, it fell in brilliant waves over the soft pale skin of her shoulder, which he so much wished to press his lips onto, her luscious lips, red as a rose, parted in an 'o'. She was sin personified, and all he wanted to do was to take her then, entwine his body into hers, and make her scream in lustful hunger into the night. It had been so simple the way he'd been defeated, feeling like a ruin at her feet.
"Draco?" She asked in confusion, breaking his trance, "I didn't know you were coming in…" she said, sounding startled, and opening the door wider to let him in. He observed the way her hips swayed sensuously, clinging to that much too revealing dress, in a hypnotising trance. And his breath finally returned to him, with an overwhelming force that announced reality in all its tedious and forbidden glory. For Hermione Granger was something out of limits to him. She was a wicked, beautiful sin.
"Didn't Shacklebolt tell you we have a mission?" He raised his brow expectantly, inhaling deeply to maintain his farce of a calm exterior, drowning the lust filled thoughts, bottling them deep within him. But even as he did that, as masterful as he was concealing his emotions, he wasn't immune to doubt and a terrifying thought sneaked its way into his head: why was she dressed in such a provocative manner, especially when she thought he wasn't around? He didn't notice the possessive string tainting his thoughts, denying the secret desire that she had dressed like that for him.
"Well…" she started, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, "…He said that I was meant to be seduced…by a wizard. To ensure the Death Eaters would think I would tell them everything I knew…" she explained, and he nodded back in understanding. She gasped in realisation, "So…so that wizard, it's you? You're the one who's going to pretend to seduce me to get all my information?"
Draco nodded. It made every bit of sense that he would be awarded such a task, he had information on both sides, more than any of the Death Eaters in the rebel fraction could ever dream of having. It made perfect sense that he would take that job, the role of the seducer, to enchant poor, brainy, unattractive, bookworm, Hermione Granger. Unknown to her and denied by himself, he had a motive of his own to take the role, as he wouldn't simply let any other wizard near the intelligent witch.
Hermione, however, twisted her nose at the notion everyone seemed to have of her. That she thought so low of herself, that the first attractive wizard who came around with a promise of love and the moon would make her fall head over heels, just like that. She sighed in resignation, supposing that it only worked to her favour in the end. She smiled, taking his hand. "Well then, what are we waiting for? I'm more than ready to be seduced!" she laughed, making Draco's heart swell in his chest, and his blood run cold. How ironic it was, that he was the one who felt seduced by this tempting witch, wanting nothing but to ravish her, and ensure she would be his from then on.
He wondered how she did it, lately, with every smile she would present him, he would smile back like an idiot. He took her to one of the most prestigious muggle restaurants, knowing a few Death Eaters would be there, their plan being to 'deceive' the witch into thinking that he was pro-muggle, and make her trust him. To the Death Eater fraction the plan was brilliant. To Draco Malfoy, it was a chance he hadn't ever thought he would have, to go on an actual date, even as he was being watched, with a beautiful girl, and play cat and mouse with her.
And what seemed to the Death Eaters as a brilliant act from Draco Malfoy, who dazzled the muggle-born witch with every word, every stare and serve her as he would a princess, to Hermione and Draco it was every bit real. And even though neither would reveal that to the other, they genuinely were flirting with each other.
He would send her a playful look, to which she would answer by seductively taking the food off her fork with her lips, and he would counter by offering a play on words, with a delicious innuendo that made her squirm with the dirtiest of thoughts, and all the while, their hearts were beating louder, as both stomachs started to fill with butterflies.
After it was over, he ensured the Death Eaters knew he would be taking her home, and taking her petite, soft hand in his he disapparated the both of them to her front door. His heart beat in his chest as he gazed into the seductive hazel eyes staring back at him. His breath quickly becoming ragged and fast, as he focused on her rose red lips, wanting to kiss them, to fall into her sinful grace, to lose himself for the first time in years, to do what he wanted to do. After all, why should he succumb to rules made by so many idiots who'd lived before him in all their restricting unhappiness?
And with that thought, he took her soft lips for the first time, the first bite into the forbidden apple which, he was sure, would be the cause of his doom, the bite he'd never known he'd wanted to give until he'd done it. Their lips entwined, she revelled in the feel of his lips, hungrily devouring hers, their tongues dancing seductively against each other, soft gasps escaping her lips, as his hand softly found his way to small curve over her hip, as his other hand caught her hair so possessively deepening their kiss, seducing her into forbidden thoughts of wanting to be his, filling her eyes with lustful desire for him and all that was his.
It was ironic that after all the nights they'd spent over the table, filled with maps, it would be chosen as the place they would consummate their passion, as she sat there, pulling him closer to her, needing to feel his body against hers, his lips lustfully consuming hers, hot lava running through her veins, as she lost herself into her desire, her secret lust for the wizard, how she'd let all let the wind take away the last remains of her mind, as his fingers removed her straps from her shoulders, planting soft, hot kisses on them, trailing up her neck and causing her to lose her consciousness for a few moments, until they left it and trailed up to her jaw, and finally smothered her mouth once again.
She didn't understand where all this passion had come from, Draco had always seemed so reserved with her; never had he tried to kiss her or touch her, seeming afraid to do so. However, her thoughts were cut short, as his hands found her inner thighs, drawing soft circles in them, making her gasp and pant in an insatiable desire that took over her body and mind, and as the zip on her back became undone, she had no objections in discarding herself of the obstructive garment, as her own hands rid him of his, revelling in the realisation that his breath was as ragged as hers, a smug smirk in her lips confirmed that she was able to cause him to feel this way.
But the smirk didn't last, as she felt his hands unclasp her bra, and rip it off her body, hands caressing them, lips meeting her nipples, she threw her head back in lustful ecstasy, wanting nothing more than to connect her body with his. Subconsciously she let her hands undo his trousers and underwear, and he obliged, drawling his body closer to hers, causing her to gasp in delight at the contact, her mind still in blissful haze as his lips met hers again, and then she felt him entering her, as both of them cried out, fulfilled by the contact, feeling as if everything that had ever missed from their lives, had been filled. Feeling each other fill the gap in their hearts, as their bodies entwined, over her, under him, as soft shudders, gasps and moans built up delightful tension that needed to be released.
Eyes filled with lust, as they finally reached their release together, their flesh telling them they had found their missing half; that they were meant to be. Exhausted and confused, Draco carried the witch into her room, feeling her ragged breath slow down into peaceful sighs, as he lay her on the bed. Both were exhausted, and still Draco didn't know what to make of what had happened. How could he have lost his control so easily, he silently wondered, absently stroking the hair off the witch's face.
What if the Voldemort found out about this? His eyes sharpened, as his heart seemed to squeeze with worry in his chest. He looked to her face, bathed in the cool night light, as it peacefully rested against his, and silently promised himself that this was the last night he would do this with her.
xXx
Seven months had past, since the beginning of their mission, and Draco was unable to keep away from his little wicked sin, as the witch deviously found new ways to make him succumb to her. Yet every time he would promise her, once more, that it would be the last time. It was far too dangerous to continue this blissful sin, the only thing that gave his life hope and meaning, the only thing that had kept him sane in these last few months.
But even as he thought of all the reasons why he shouldn't see her, especially after their work had been completed, he couldn't keep himself from her. She was a wicked temptress, and he could do nothing but humbly succumb to his desire for her. Even as they both knew that if the Dark Lord found out, they would both be dead, their plan wasted to naught, even as he lied to Lord Voldemort, telling him that he kept meeting the witch to extract information and made suspicions rise.
Tonight would be the night where their carefully composed plan would be executed, and he was the central key to making it all work. He looked into her tear filled hazel eyes, eyes that told him she hated the fact that he had to do this, eyes that told him she'd rather he stay, eyes that understood the importance of this mission, even though she wasn't fit to participate in the action.
And with a parting kiss, he told her the same thing he would always tell her, "It's our last night together…tomorrow this won't happen again." And both understood how true those words could become, if Draco died in this war.
As he made to leave her flat, Hermione rushed to him, turning him around and planting a deep kiss onto his lips. "Draco…I lo…" But she couldn't finish it, as his finger was placed over her lips and he gently shook his head. He smiled sadly back at her, for he knew well what she was going to say and couldn't bear hearing it without knowing the outcome of this last battle.
He planted another kiss on her forehead and whispered against it, "If I come back, you can tell me those words."
She silently understood his plea, his pain and his love for her. And quietly nodded in understanding, kissing him one last time, cherishing the last few moments before he left, and wondering what the outcome of this fight would be. Until then, Hermione would have to content herself with the painful knowledge that even though they loved each other, their love simply couldn't be until the war was won…
AN: I know this is a one-shot, and I tried to keep it as cannon as possible despite the AU-ness of the prompt…so I know many of you will be put off from writing a review, but any criticism would mean the world to me as a writer =) so please, if you find any mistakes or anything that can be improved, let me know so that I can rectify it and keep from repeating the same mistakes again. Thank you to everyone who had made it this far in reading, past 11k! =)
With love,
Cat