A/N I cannot apologize more. This has taken far too long. 1/3 of it is the need to work on school, since I'm now in high school. 1/3 of it was personal problems/procrastination, and 1/3 of it is the fact that this chapter was really, really hard to write. This is my first time at smut, and I tried to keep it still technically PG-13. I'll get into more smuttysmut later. I hope you enjoy this one!
The last day of moderate happiness passed very slowly. It seemed like a movie, of sorts. Neither of them spoke. An occasional cough or mumble, but nothing specific, or especially audible. Draco spent his day shifting between several different positions on the two open seats, or wandering aimlessly between the rooms. He settled a few times, reading a book, fiddling with the furniture, or just tossing a ball at the ceiling. The air conditioner's white noise fills the silence, but by noon the humming feels like a woodpecker has landed in the ducts.
Nine rolls around after an excruciating day or boredom. Hermione finishes the pasta she prepared and sets the bowl down. It's a louder clink than usual, maybe because of the suffocating silence. Draco looks up from his crouched position, and their eyes connect for a fraction. She breaks the quiet, but only barely. It's not more than a whisper, but it sounds like a scream.
"We should get ready."
Draco moves slowly into his bedroom and pushes the door almost shut. He slides off his shirt and lay down on the bed. His heart is beating out his chest as the seconds tick by. He knows what's about to happen. It doesn't matter much about the person. Girls back at school were all over him, and before long, they blurred together. This one is just another girl. Just like the others.
It's hard for Hermione to slip out of her sweatpants. Goosebumps had risen over her skin as she undressed, and putting on the oversized tee-shirt didn't help any. It lands right above her legs, and as she walks it brushes lightly on her skin. She pushes open the door and her breath catches in her chest. Draco sits up slightly, letting his eyes graze over her skin. She clasps her hands in front of herself and steps slightly closer to him. He starts to scoot over some on the bed, but she shakes her head slightly. It's a queen bed, more than enough room, but she chooses to lay right next to him. Her hands lay splayed, and Draco grabs the one closest to him gently. His movements are cold. Everything he does has a slightly robotic tint to it. Hermione lays there, just a flat slab. Her breath catches as he turns and climbs on top of her, but he still refuses to even look at her. Her hands nervously start to unbutton his jeans, but he breaths out a "no". He slides them off of his legs and pushes his hands under the hem of her shirt. He's not being crude, however, he moves his hands down and around her back and traces a line up her spine slowly, laughing a little when her back arches up. She inhales through her teeth and catches his eye.
"Draco." She pauses as he traces small circles on her arm. "Kiss me."
The shock is evident in his eyes. He licks his lips nervously and dips his head down. Their lips connect for barely a second, and both of their eyes widen. It's chemistry. Chemistry forged out of the most heated anger. He slides a hand through the back of her hair and pulls her up closer. Their faces crash together and they turn around on the bed. Draco shifts up her shirt over her head, and for the first time since the law, she doesn't care that he's looking at her.
He wraps his other hand around the small of her back and pulls her closer to him. Their bodies meld and curve together while rolling and thrashing on the bed. The sheets have slid off the bed and the pillows are scattered. Neither of them are conscious of this, nor do they care.
She can feel the heat starting to build up in the pit of her stomach as he hooks an arm around her leg and slides two fingers around the hem of her knickers. He's not being pushy though, despite all expectations
He disconnects and leans slightly back. They're both breathing heavily, and it takes some time for him to choke out words.
"Are you ready?" He asks. It's little more than a husky whisper.
"Yes." She breathes the word out as his lips collide again with hers.
She showers first, careful to not scrub too hard. A part of her wants to rid herself of every scrap of his scent, and the other part wants to turn around and curl up next to him again. All tension dissolved after they finished, and they both laughed over the carnage of the room. Too much time was spent in harmony, though, and Hermione rushed off to the bathroom to try and regain some of her dignity, it's a scalding fifteen minutes of internal battles before the water starts to cool down. She pulls her hair into a tight bun and wraps a robe around herself, trying to summon the courage to open the door.
Draco half-dressed himself, pants on, shirt discarded on the dresser. He turns around quickly with a pillow hanging from his hand. He cleaned up the room, at least partially, and he's not smirking every time he looks at her anymore. She stands awkwardly outside of the bathroom door for a few seconds before turning and going back to her room, leaving him completely alone.
Her hands are shaking as she unpacks a clean pair of pajamas. The heat in her stomach hadn't gone away, even from the blistering shower. Her entire body is wobbling to the point of making her sit down to get changed. Across the apartment, you can hear Draco taking a shower. His is much shorter though, and before long it's silent again.
It's almost an hour of anxious insomnia before she decides on taking the leap. Her room is impeccable, but somehow she trips over at least three things on her way out of the dark bedroom. The wall of windows captures a breathtaking London skyline, all lit up. It makes it easier to get across the wide sitting room, but not any easier to turn the doorknob and venture into the other room.
Draco is stretched out across the bed and snoring lightly. His face caught a ray of moonlight from the open window. He had changed the sheets, a dark red that sharply contrasts his pale features. She moved over to the open side of the bed and gingerly climbed in, careful not to disturb him.
Their breathing evens as they lay together. For the first time in three days of marriage, they made a step past civil. Maybe a step towards happiness.
