CHAPTER FOUR: Seeing Stars
June 4, 2004 (Friday)
After a delicious wake-up the next morning – was it really only Friday? - filled with warm kisses and sweet touches, Hermione returned to her hotel room to check out, agreeing to meet up with Draco at their favorite café spot within two hours. They were going to play around Paris for one more day, then stay at his chateaux in Libourne overnight (so she wouldn't have to keep paying for a hotel room in Paris), and tomorrow, he agreed to take her to Italy, to a nice villa in Positano, just south of Napolia and to the west of Salerno on the Amalfi Coast. He promised her that once there, she would see sunsets over a brilliant azure ocean, enjoy a private cove for swimming, have luxury villa accommodations with a master chef in the kitchen, receive a relaxing massage with scented oils, and could indulge in hot, wet sex at any opportunity she desired. She intended on holding Malfoy to all of it, and then some.
Humming happily to herself down the streets as she strolled, she approached the rendezvous point, and easily caught the back of her lover's unique platinum-blonde head sitting at the same table they'd previously met twice before. To her surprise, a very attractive brunette wearing a pair of very dark, celebrity-styled Christian Dior sunglasses was sitting across from him, and the two were deep in conversation. The stunningly gorgeous, twenty-something woman was dressed in a well-tailored double-breasted, pagoda-styled shoulder matching jacket pant suit in camel beige with a smart pair of very expensive, snow white Salvatore Ferragamo pumps (oh, how the fashion-conscious Ginny would drool to own such a femininely flattering, business sharp outfit!... and come to think of it, so would she). Hermione slowed to a stop well outside of their sphere of privacy and watched for a good minute, trying to make up her mind as to whether it would be appropriate or not to interject herself into their conversation.
The body language between Draco and his guest seemed perfectly harmless, on the more serious side even. Perhaps their meeting was in regards to his company, then – investments or banking advice, solicitor's counsel, a management power brunch, or an outside consultant interview? The young woman could easily pass for any such position (the expense of her outfit gave her away as being more than just a common salary worker, and the Bond Street executive briefcase decked out in rich dragon-hide resting at her petite crossed ankles, abutting the chair legs, was also a big clue that this Doris was someone important and high-ranking). Then again, she also might be from one of the various Ministry Law Offices on the continent (although she wasn't wearing any indicator – robes or a badge), or she could just as easily be a news reporter for some society witch rag (although there didn't appear to be a notepad or Quick Quotes Quill anywhere about, she noted).
Interrupting a business meeting didn't sit well with Hermione. Having worked in M.L.E. for the last six years, grinding her way up the ladder of success (having started out as an arbitrator for Magical Creature's rights), she knew that anyinterruption of negotiations could tip the momentum of a discussion, altering the political mood and feel. She'd hated it when people had disrupted her flow as she'd pitched her ideas in the past; it always threw her off and made it difficult to recapture the magic of the moment, so she didn't like doing the same to others, if it could be helped.
Checking her Muggle wristwatch to see if there was time for a walk around the block, she realized with a start that she had arrived on scene more than fifty minutes early! That made up her mind for her; she would leave Draco to conclude his business and return on time in a bit.
As she turned to walk back the way she came, out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement: the brunette had placed one delicate, well-manicured hand on Draco's forearm and rubbed back and forth in a rather intimate manner, as if she knew him a little too personally. Hermione stopped on a knut, all of her attention now riveted to that small, pale skin massaging Malfoy's light blue, silken sleeve. She waited a ten count for him to react, to pull his arm away or indicate in some manner that he was unreceptive to the unwanted touch, but he didn't. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed with this other woman's caress upon his person.
Had she been a lover of his, too? Worse, was she still? Maybe, Hermione thought, she wasn't Draco's only interest at the moment. They hadn't actually spoken of such things in their short time together, nor precisely made any sort of commitment to exclusivity; she'd just been taking it on face value that she was, currently, the only woman sharing his bed. What if that wasn't the case, though? A sudden, sick twisting in her stomach simultaneously matched the one in her chest, causing her to wrap her arms about herself protectively even as her breath caught as a lump in her throat. Against her will, she was unexpectedly one large bundle of jealous, seething pain. The hurt was not just emotional, but manifested itself physically, too, making her break out in a cold sweat.
Before she could blink, Draco was on his feet, the other woman's arm forcibly pushed from him as he took in his surroundings and the nearby crowd anxiously, searching for something. He turned slowly in an arc as if narrowing the angle down, and froze when his gaze finally connected with hers across the three or so meters separating them.
It was an awkward half a minute, as neither spoke, neither moved. His emotions were carefully hidden beneath those impassive, grey eyes. Her heart in her throat, Hermione marveled how this moment felt just like the first time she'd caught Ron cheating; that knowing of what the other had seen slicing between them, only in Draco's face, there was no guilt. The pain intensified at the comparison.
He broke the stalemate first and took a step towards her. Instinctually, with no thought to the repercussions, she took a step back in response. Both of them paused for a few seconds, watching the other warily, before she cautiously took another slow step back, feeling a creeping kind of suffocation taking over. Who was that woman? Why did Draco let her touch him? And why did it bother her so very much – to the point where actual tears prickled her vision? It wasn't like she was his girlfriend or anything. He hadn't offered for her in such a manner - not that she would say 'no' if he did. But why?
Malfoy's eyes narrowed in contemplation as he stepped forward again, hand outstretched. He didn't say anything, merely watched, waited, palm up, fingers outstretched – totally open. It was just like the other day, in this exact spot - he was silently asking her to trust him, to give him a chance to explain things to her. He was pleading with her in the only way his pride would allow that she not run from him.
After everything Ron had done to her, Hermione had lost faith in men. Coupled with the fact that Draco's reputation preceded him loud and clear… How could she trust anyone again with her emotional well-being? How could she trust him, especially after their past history? Why hadn't she considered any of this before today, preferably before she'd let him seduce her that afternoon in her hotel room?
"I don't care about that blood purity shite anymore. I learned my lesson from the war… Granger, you've always fascinated me, even when you made me angry enough to curse or hex you… I only hated you because I knew I couldn't have you… I like what's going on between us too much to walk away without giving it a chance. Don't you?"
His voice was a ghost in her mind, haunting her with memories of their last few days together.
Why was she dredging up doubts? She'd already resolved to leave the past aside the other day, because she knew that people weren't necessarily doomed to become awful in adulthood simply because they'd been rotten as kids (or vice-versa, as she'd discovered during her divorce proceedings when the Patil twins - girls she'd considered herself on good terms with - had written some pretty nasty, completely untrue insinuations for their tabloid paper regarding her relationship with Ron's older brothers). No, it simply wasn't fair to hold someone's childhood against them, especially if they were trying to turn over a new leaf and begin again. She knew she wasn't exactly the same as she'd been back at Hogwarts, and Draco had very obviously changed over the last six years as well. They were different people now that they'd matured and settled down some, she reminded herself, and they were both starting over in their own ways.
He'd asked her sincerely to give them a try. She'd promised them both that she would make an honest effort of that request – and she knew that began by giving the other person the opportunity to explain things before jumping off the deep end and inventing scenarios that may or may not hold any truth. There might be, after all, a perfectly logical, rational explanation for everything she'd just witnessed. She hoped, anyway.
With a shuddering breath, her resolve in place, Hermione crossed the distance between them and placed her hand in Malfoy's, shaking like a Snitch in a hurricane. She hadn't met his eyes, though, still a little shy. It had taken a lot of her courage to just get this far.
Draco's free hand slowly moved towards her jaw, cupped it and with a little applied pressure, managed to tilt her face up. "Look at me," he murmured, moving his body in and aligning them perfectly. "Please, Hermione."
Forcing herself to meet his request, their gazes connected and she was suddenly drowning in interminable molten silver. Gently, hesitantly, his magical aura caressed hers, making her breath catch and her heart flutter. Smoothing across her skin, their lips connected in a tremulous kiss that was soft and filled with promise.
"Thank you," he whispered so light as to almost not be heard as he pulled away. "For your trust."
Inside the cage of her ribs, Hermione's blood-pumping organ threatened to punch its way out as it began slamming against her skin, nearly choking her with the force. She exhaled slowly and nodded, trying to regain some semblance of control. He led her back to the table, offered her his vacant seat and commandeered a chair from nearby, scooting it to her right and sitting down so that their outer thighs touched. He took her hand in his, entwining their fingers as a means to reassure her.
Across the small café table, the brunette was coolly watching them behind those dark glasses. Hermione waited for an introduction. It came, surprisingly, from the woman herself.
"I never thought it would be you, Granger," a familiar voice sighed in resignation. "When Drake told me, I thought he was pulling one over on me, but now I see…" She turned her head slightly to Malfoy. "All right, all right, I get it."
Hermione's head swam as she connected the voice with her internal database of memories. "Pansy? Pansy Parkinson?"
The woman she hadn't seen since Sixth Year (as Pansy had never returned to Hogwarts to complete her NEWTs training after the war), smirked and removed her glasses. Brilliant green eyes with a wealth of worldly knowledge trained on her. "In the flesh."
The pug-face had matured over the years, the bones of her cheeks elongating as Pansy lost her baby fat, making her into a rather striking figure. Her once screeching, grating voice had mellowed in a husky-sultry way that had Hermione thinking that the tone was probably perfect for a phone sex operator. In a phrase, she wasn't model-beautiful, but she was definitely a very handsome woman.
Blinking in confusion, Hermione looked to Draco first for some sort of cue, then back at Parkinson when none was forthcoming. She opened her mouth and out tumbled the first thing to cross her mind. "You've slept together."
The woman's smirk was positively wicked. "Once upon a time, a long time ago," she teased, and held up her left hand, where a huge diamond-platinum ring shone brilliantly. "I'm married now. It's Zabini, by the way, not Parkinson."
"Oh. Congratulations." That sounded lame even to her ears, but all of this was coming too fast to process for Hermione's overtaxed mind. Lack of sleep for days, too much sex, being this close to Draco, coming down from a fit of jealousy… it was a little much, especially on an empty stomach. She turned to the waitress and flagged her down with a tiny wave. The woman came over, but had eyes only for Draco; she was sizing him up like a piece of prime steak. Hermione checked a growl. "Excuse me, but I'd like a cup of coffee and the house pastry du jour, if you please." She said the last a little huffily, but still restrained enough to sound civil.
As the waitress ran off to fill the order, Pansy chuckled. "So polite."
Even though she'd promised herself not to allow the past to prejudice her, the woman's tone and the awkwardness of the situation made Hermione's hackles rise. "Muggle or wizard, good manners should know no distinction."
Jade eyes glinted mischievously and the smile across the table twitched, as if Pansy were trying to hold back her amusement. "She hasn't changed all that much, Drake."
Hermione felt his stare before she turned her head to face him head-on, just waiting for him to say the wrong thing.
"In some ways, no. In others, definitely yes."
He was holding back his own mirth, she noted. Arching an eyebrow at him was what did him in; Draco broke out into low chuckles, the sound of which made Hermione's body tighten with need in an instant. She removed her hand from his, using the excuse of the coffee's arrival to put some distance between them. One thing hadn't changed about her and that was that she didn't like being the brunt of someone's joke.
"You're a total cad," she growled at the man by her side. "I don't know why I tolerate you. I'm cutting you off if you keep picking on me."
The two former Slytherins erupted into laughter, but she ignored them, taking a bite of her pastry and not caring how rude it may be, considering her two tablemates had no food or drink before them. She chased the mouthful down with a big gulp of her black-as-midnight espresso, letting out a contented sigh as it all smoothed down her throat. Starchy, sugary food and a high-octane caffeine drink – what better way to start the day?
Pansy's voice called her attention back across the table. "Still as stubborn as always, though."
"You've no idea," Draco half-joked.
Her mouth full, Hermione could do nothing polite except "humph" behind her closed lips in response and take another sip.
"I'm getting one," the brunette commented wryly, as she stood, gathering her briefcase.
Hermione glanced at the woman over the rim of her glasses, curious. "Don't leave on my account," she drawled, hoping for quite the opposite, in fact. Pansy had never made her comfortable – had been downright awful to her in school, in fact - and the new, improved model wasn't inspiring any change of heart.
Pansy's smarmy smirk could have rivaled Malfoy's on one of his best days. "Oh, I'm not, I just have to get back home. Blaise is going to laugh himself sick when he finds out about you two." She crossed to Draco and he stood to see her off. "You know my git husband predicted you two getting together three years ago while divining the stars. I told him he was off his grandmum's rocker at the time. Looks like I lost that bet."
Hermione snorted inelegantly. "Divination is a load of horse pucky."
"And yet here you are," Pansy mocked, placing her sun bands back on the bridge of her nose. "The two most unlikely people on the planet, all lovey-dovey."
"Pans," Draco warned. "Enough."
The dark-haired witch took a deep breath and sighed on the exhale. She seemed to be working on composing herself as she looked off into the crowd for a moment. "So, we can expect you both next week then?"
Draco nodded, which caused Hermione to almost spew her coffee all over the counter top. "We'll meet you for breakfast on Tuesday," he confirmed, as Hermione inwardly groaned. They were going to be seeing the Slytherin Bitch Queen and her equally offensive husband during their vacation. Say it wasn't so!
"The villa in Sicily," Pansy reminded him, leaning up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek (Hermione quelled another small jerk of jealousy in her stomach, taking out her anger on her pastry, devouring it in three short, snapping bites). "You know it's his favorite place this time of the year." She turned to Hermione with obvious effort. "See you then, Grang… er, Hermione. Drake." With that, she walked off towards that same alley nearby that had witnessed many a wizard and witch's Apparitions over the centuries. There was a small crack, like a metal garbage bin lid hitting the pavement, but no one seemed to even notice or care as it was conveniently just more of the same background noise to be found in big cities.
Draco resumed his seat next to her, resting his arm on the back of her chair and pulling at one of her loose curls. Hermione was trying very hard to reign in her temper. "Explain," she bit out, sipping her drink loudly, fighting hard to keep her toe from tapping in annoyance.
Her lover took a moment to mentally compose his story, or so she assumed. Needless to say, she was quite taken aback when she felt his lips curving seductively against her ear, his breath warm and enticing as it spilled over her neck. His magic flowed outward, entrapping her aura, caressing it. "Put the cup down."
Hermione's hands began shaking so badly that she had no choice but to obey or be sloshed by the contents of her drink. The cup hit the saucer with a loud clinking noise. She swallowed heavily and opened her mouth to protest his actions, when his finger on her lips silenced her.
"There's absolutely nothing between Pansy and I," he firmly stated. "We slept together a few times in Fourth and Fifth Year, and yes, she was my first, because I know you're going to ask. It was just experimenting. We haven't touched each other like that since." He turned her chin to look at him. "She's married now to one of my best friends, and they're completely in love, and I'm with you. And no, Granger, I'm not interested in looking at other women. I'm not sleeping with anyone but you. I told you that I want to try with you and see where it leads us. That means I'm committed. I thought I made that clear the other day."
Unexpectedly, and to her horror, tears flooded her eyes again. "Why me?" It was her low self-esteem talking, she knew – boy, Ron had really done a number on her, hadn't he? - but the words had simply come unbidden to her lips.
Draco's thumb rubbed lightly over her mouth, and his eyes were drawn to watch. Hermione was fixated firmly on his whole face though, looking for any signs of doubt. There was only lust and something deeper, indefinable in those platinum depths that made her shiver in a good way. "Because I like the fact that you're jealous of the waitress who flirts with me every time we come here," he grinned ridiculously, teasing. "It shows me how much you desire me."
Hermione bristled like a porcupine at the revelation that Draco was much more perceptive of her than she'd suspected. Before she could mount a protest to save her ego, however, he continued relentlessly making his case for why he'd chosen her. "And because no one's ever given me a pornographic art book before." He leaned in, pressing his lips to her pulse and murmured against her sensitive skin with a wide smirk. "I liked that you're trying to culture me at the same time as make me uncivilized."
She tried to argue that the book wasn't intended to do any such thing, but his lips trailed kisses down the column of her neck, distracting her momentarily, allowing him to continue. "And because you bought me a charm to enhance sex between us without even realizing you'd done so."
She jerked away, this time intending on telling him that he was mistaken, but in anticipation of the move, he nipped her over his favorite spot at her neck very lightly, causing her to flush with desire in an instant, all thoughts of disagreement flying out the window, leaving her little more than smooth molding clay in his expert hands. "The snake figure was enchanted with a lust spell, sweetheart," he purred as he continued licking and nipping her throat. "I knew it the second I touched it… and I also knew you didn't know that, which is what makes it the best gift ever." He licked a long trail up to her earlobe, grabbing it between his front teeth and biting very gently. "It meant you were already in-tune with the figurine's intentions. It didn't influence you. Your want for me is real and your own, not magically enhanced by… outside forces."
He smoothed around her jaw and chin, placing a soft kiss on her lips – barely a touch of flesh, his demeanor much more serious now, his smile tucking itself away. "There's more, though. More reasons why I want to be with you." He held her gaze earnestly. "You took my hand today. You didn't run, when I could tell that everything inside of you wanted to. You trusted this… us… enough to keep trying." He placed his forehead on hers and rubbed his nose against her cheek, pausing for a moment, clearly wanting to say more. "The real cherry on top though, baby, is that your scent drives me fucking wild," he breathed out a sigh of longing, and she could tell this wasn't really what he'd wanted to say, but it was a good enough diversion. Honestly, she was a little afraid of what he might have actually meant to confess, and thought this was better - for now.
Heedless of the crowd on the other side of the café wall, or of the waitress hovering in the background, or of the small gatherings of tourists sitting off to their left and behind at the other tables, Draco grabbed her hand and pressed it against the front of his trousers. He rubbed her tiny fingers over his very prominent erection and groaned. "You do this to me, Granger. I've never wanted anyone like this before - not with this much intensity."
Her heart was slamming in her throat suddenly, her insides quivering, her thighs damping with need. "I don't understand how that could be. You've got beautiful women throwing themselves at you all the time."
He continued to nuzzle, the corner of his lips touching hers, then drawing away. "I want you. Right now." His aura wrapped around hers again, blanketing her in a haze of excitement. "I have to have you again. Please say 'yes,' princess."
Gods knew she wanted him, too. With a nod, she drew them to their feet, while he threw some Euros on the table, and once more, they made for the alleyway to Apparate to his chateaux, where he proceeded to make delicious love to her tenderly, sweetly, exhaustively. As she slumbered lightly in Malfoy's arms afterward, she drowsily marveled at the irrefutable fact that this beautiful, intelligent, charming wizard really liked her… as much as she now was willing to admit she liked him. This clearly wasn't just a fling for either of them. He'd made that clear not ten minutes before, as he'd melded them together with slow, deep, gentle thrusts, latched onto her neck once more possessively, one hand caressing her cheek, waiting for her to find her pleasure before succumbing to his own.
It was the irony of the decade, she thought: the boy who had made her miserable for most of her childhood was now her full-time lover… and by Merlin, was he good at it!
X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X
That evening, they returned to Paris for late dining at the finest and most expensive restaurant in the city: Alain Ducasse au Plaza Athénée, known to cater to both Muggle and Wizarding-kind. They ate like a King and Queen, trying out the vegetables and fruits cooked in spicy tomato marmalade, steamed langoustines, duck liver and black truffle puff pastries, a selection of refined cheeses and for dessert shared a lemon and bergamot citrus ice cream. They sipped on the finest white and red wines in the world between courses, talking and laughing and sharing, and along with their dessert, they finished off a bottle of 1959 Dom Pérignon Moët & Chandon Champagne that cost a whole month's of Hermione's regular salary alone. Draco paid for it all, insisting that this was a second date and at his invitation. Hermione allowed herself ten seconds worth of prideful indignation before realizing that there was no way she could afford to pay the 1,275 galleon price tag for their evening's indulgence (her date didn't even blink an eye). Besides, it seemed to make him happy, and he was the one who had insisted on the restaurant.
As they exited the fine dining establishment onto Avenue Montaigne, Draco stopped and rounded on her suddenly, interrupting the usual Friday night flow of pedestrian traffic around them. "It's eleven now. Are you tired?"
Hermione shook her head. "I took a nap this afternoon, you forgot," she teased, enjoying the feel of his fingers intimately stroking the inside of her palm.
"I've been wanting to show you something really spectacular since the day I came back into town, and now seems the perfect chance, since it's our last night in Paris," he offered with a boyish grin. "You up for it, sweetheart?"
The endearment made Hermione's stomach clench with need every time he used it. "A surprise? Always!" she sassed back and his grin widened. Gripping her hand tightly in his, he turned and took off back up the sidewalk at a slow jog, pulling her along behind him. She whooped and giggled as he led them through the thinning throngs of people and across the street. They passed by shops for Prada, Bottega Veneta France, and Manoush, and ducked into a less busy, dimmer courtyard between buildings. Grabbing her up close, he pulled his wand. "Hold tight, baby," he whispered in her ear and Hermione slammed shut her eyes, and threw her arms about his neck tightly, knowing what was coming next.
That queer fish-hook pull behind her navel always made her slightly off-balance, but thankfully, it lasted only a few seconds after the Side-Along Apparation completed. She blinked to find them outside, on some sort of observation deck, very high in the sky. Below, the city lights lit up the night, highlighting the carpet of concrete, glass, stone, and metal structures all about them in reds, whites, and blues primarily (no doubt to reflect the French national flag's color schema). Instantly, she guessed where they were, as it was the tallest structure in Paris.
"The Eiffel Tower."
Draco nodded. "Third floor deck. Usually muggles don't come up here at this time of the night because it's too cold." He waved a warming charm over them, then replaced his wand inside his interior jacket pocket. "Good thing we don't have to worry about that."
Hermione hummed in approval. Oh, how she loved magic and being a witch!
He turned her about slowly. "There's the Palais de Chaillot, also known as the Trocadero," he pointed past her face, snuggling up behind her, wrapping his free arm around her waist, offering her security and extra heat. He went on to tell her the building's cultural significance and the details of the museum's architectural design. "It's an intentional slight against the commons, you know," he smirked and shook his head. "The liberal rebels who wanted to depose the Spanish monarchy lost the Battle of Trocadero on the Iberian Peninsula to the French invading forces led by Louis-Antoine, the Duke of Angoulême, who was ever after referred to as the 'Prince of Trocadero.' This monument was named here in Paris, his home, to remind the world of the power of royalty – of purebloods, in essence - over the common man."
Hermione looked over her shoulder at him quickly in shock. "I thought none of that mattered to you anymore," she hesitantly inquired, feeling her heart pick up in trepidation.
He shrugged. "It doesn't. I only mentioned it because it seems we wizards have more than a thing or two in common with muggles, insofar as prejudice is concerned."
She considered that, phrasing her thoughts carefully. "Hubris is a part of human nature in general. No one's immune from selfish tendencies or arrogance."
He was quiet for a bit, holding her closer, wrapping his arms about her waist and resting his cheek against her hair. "No, no one is, are they?" It was murmured quietly, almost as an afterthought and stood as an obvious rhetorical question which did not require an answer, as the answer was obvious to both parties.
"Show me the rest," she requested, wanting to drag them away from possible bad memories or mood spoiler conversations. "I want the grand tour, Monsieur!"
Pressing a kiss to her temple, Draco's arms slipped from her waist, but his hand reached out for hers. They walked palms clasped together loosely and relaxed around the deck all the way to the opposite end, Draco pointing out important landmarks as they went. "Over there is the Parc du Champs de Mars, a tribute to the Roman God of War. The grounds were once used by the French military for practice marching and drilling." He explained the area's historical significance, including its gruesome past as a place for public executions. Hermione was fascinated by it all; she felt like a round-eyed child back in primary school, learning new things about a foreign land (this was her first trip to the continent, after all). Draco obviously spent a lot of time in Paris; he seemed to love this city, his silver gaze radiating affection as he spoke about the sights grandly spread out below them.
When they rounded the tower and ended up back where they began, the last call for the Tower to close was announced over the P.A. system. "We should go, I suppose," Hermione stated with a regretful sigh, but her date had other plans firmly in mind. He waited for the last of the tourists to board the elevator before waving his wand over the area, murmuring something under his breath. "What did you do?" she whispered in a hiss, not wanting to disturb the sudden silence around them.
"Just wait," he whispered back, and pulled her off to the side, against the wall. Wait they did - for another fifteen minutes, she sweating bullets as the guards came into view for their final sweep of the night. They were passed by without a glance, and Hermione knew then that he'd cast a Disillusionment Charm upon them. She wondered what he was up to, while the guards signaled the all-clear into their walkie-talkies and left. The interior lights of the tower shut off, and it was only the exterior coming through the windows that provided them any ability to see. Draco waited a few more minutes, and then waved his arm again, murmuring a string of things, flicking his wrist with a practiced ease.
"There, all set," he breathed out and then grabbed her hand and pulled her into a room marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY" in French, English and various other languages. No alarms went off, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with walking about the place even with the loud echo of their shoes on the flooring.
"Silencio and Disillusionment. Smart, but how do you trick the cameras?" she wondered aloud.
Malfoy's grin was as the Cheshire Cat's in Alice's wonderful adventure – all teeth and entirely too smug for one's own good. "A charm I made up called Aboculus. It blurs a person's form to outsiders, for privacy. When paired with a Disillusionment Charm, it renders a person completely unseen, like an Invisibility Cloak."
Hermione was floored. "You… make up your own spells?" Holy Anatolie! Such a level of skill was the mark of a Very Great Wizard, as few could actually accomplish the feat. She had invented only two on her own in all the years she'd been working diligently on solving some of her more difficult problems: the "Sneak" curse that she'd worked up for Dumbledore's Army back in Fifth Year, and a replicating spell ("Geminus Effingo") that could create exact copies of text instantly, like a photocopier (she'd used it often to cut down on library research work, especially books that weren't allowed to be removed from the premises and were for reference only). Tinkering with the actual laws of physics, though – the bending of light to create an illusion of null space, like what Draco had succeeded in doing - wasn't something she could even contemplate, as it would require a better knowledge of science than even she had under her belt. "That's… wow, that's amazing."
Draco grinned smugly, and led her up a small, metal helix stair to an open observation deck that contained a large telescopic device imbedded into the floor, its lens pointed up towards the heavens. "Aboculus is only a visual spell, though. It doesn't work against things that can smell you, like animals, Dementors, Weres, and other… such Beings. There's no magic in the world that can hide a person's scent completely, only mask it temporarily as something else."
Hermione grinned playfully. "Is that why you bought me the perfume then? To hide my smell?"
He stopped them at the telescope and turned to her, his eyes hot with a growing, dark desire. "I bought you the perfume because it enhances your unique scent." Moving in close, he pressed his nose into the bend of her neck and inhaled deeply. "French vanilla and jasmine and night-blooming rose... That's how you smell naturally to me." He continued sniffing her, pressing his face into her skin, licking and nibbling on her neck. "Makes me hard just being in the same room as you."
Enjoying the attentions thoroughly, Hermione gasped as he bit over her pulse, digging her nails into his upper arms at the same time. "What… what did you bring me up here for?"
He bit her lobe gently, and breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. "I'm going to show you the stars, princess."
With a final kiss on her jaw, he pulled away, putting a goodly amount of space between them as he moved over to the telescope and looked into the lens. Feeling bereft and wanting more, Hermione moaned in protest. He chuckled. She riposted by pouting. "You are a terrible tease."
"But you like it, oh-so-much," he arrogantly stated, not looking up.
Wisely, Hermione kept her mouth shut, not wanting to say anything that might incriminate her later, since Draco had proven to have an eidetic memory for conversations. Watching from the sidelines instead, she waited until all of the fiddling with focus and magnification knobs were done. Finally, he called her over to look through the telescope. She peeked into the eye piece. "Is that… Jupiter?" she asked, in awe.
Draco hummed in approval. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He sounded like he was unwrapping a Christmas gift – giddy and excited to be sharing this special view with her. "The University of Manchester was given permission by the city for use of this observation platform for Astrophysics student's demonstrations and projects. Blaise showed this to me earlier this year after getting his License."
Hermione tore her gaze away and looked over her shoulder at him. "Blaise Zabini studied muggle science?" Were pigs flying, too, she sarcastically wondered?
One of Malfoy's golden eyebrows arched up in surprise. "His father is an alumni of the same department, so it was practically a sure-thing when he applied."
She shook her head. "No, I meant that I'm just shocked that one of the poster boys for pureblood segregation went to amuggle school."
Her stunningly handsome date sniffed in amusement. "I told you, most of the pureblood families aren't what they pretend to be. Blaise's muggle-born dad came out of the woodwork just before the Final Battle to take him into hiding."
Hermione's metaphorical jaw on the floor, and she openly gaped at what Draco had just said. "Wait, wait, wait! Let me get this straight: pureblood snob, Blaise Zabini, is in actuality a half-blood with a muggle-born dad, and Pansy Parkinson married him anyway?" She laughed in amazement as her blonde lover nodded mutely. "Have I crossed over into some weird alternate dimension, like a 'Mirror, Mirror' or something?"
Her boyfriend looked confused. "A 'Mirror, Mirror'? What is that, some sort of spell?"
"No, it's Star Trek," Hermione explained, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "My dad used to watch syndicated re-runs on the telly when I was really little." Seeing his continued blank expression, she tried to explain it in fifty words or less. "It's a muggle television show. In one episode called, 'Mirror, Mirror,' the exploration crew accidentally ends up transported – a type of technological Apparition - to an alternate reality where everyone is acting the exact opposite of how they do normally. That's sort of how life feels right now to me."
With a shake of his head, Malfoy stroked one finger down her cheek. "Sometimes, Granger, I wonder if you're not a little touched in the head." He cupped her jaw and stared at her seriously. "Those muggle television shows aren't real, sweetheart. They're all make-believe entertainment."
She couldn't decide if she wanted to hit him or giggle at such an outrageous proclamation, said in such a sober manner. Did he honestly think she didn't know that, given her upbringing? Had he forgotten who she was?
I give up, she sighed to herself. Instead of trying to correct Draco's misunderstanding, she simply patted his hand. "Never mind, dear," she smiled humorlessly and turned back to star gazing, muttering under her breath about thick-witted wizards and fiddling with her glasses again. "So, this telescope must be fitted with filters to sift out high bands of the visible spectrum, otherwise the city lights would interfere with this clear and crisp an image, I assume," she commented, changing the topic. Honestly, she could care less about Blaise frumping Zabini.
Without proper warning, Hermione felt her boyfriend's roaming hand stroking over her arse. "I love it when you talk smart, you know," he joked, fondling her backside lasciviously, following the curves in slow, molding caresses, making her temperature jump ten degrees. "Yes, it does. It's also got filters to nullify the convection from temperature gradients caused by the heat of the city in the atmosphere." He suddenly pressed his erection – as hard as an iron bar, hidden behind his trousers - in between the divide of her cheeks and began rubbing up and down.
Hermione tried to play it coy, ignoring the slippery wetness gathering between her legs, liking this new game he had invented on the fly. "Uh-huh. I see. That's why the red spot – the planet's persistent anti-cyclonic storm – is so clear. It's just coming around the rotation now." Her silk-chiffon dress was being dragged slowly upwards, the soft, light pink fabric brushing against the back of her thighs as it moved. She bit her lip to keep a moan from escaping, continuing to play the game. "Its cloud formation bands are amazingly distinct. I'm shocked to see such detail." The skirt portion of her outfit was now bunched around her waist, her white, lacy thong exposed to Draco's sight. A deep groan was dragged from him, even as his warm fingers began smoothing the skin, slipping under the thong to follow its trail to her creamy opening, which was slick and ready for him. He rimmed the entrance to her channel teasingly, trying to get a reaction out of her, she knew. Hermione grit her teeth. "I wonder… what details you can… see… of the moon… through this thing." She was panting by the time she'd finished that sentence, as his fingertip tickled her clit. "Gods almighty, Malfoy, just put me out of my misery already!"
A dark, sensual chuckle purred across the back of her neck as he leaned in. "Do you want me, Hermione?"
Legs trembling now, she gripped the tripod of the telescope, which was thankfully bolted to the floor and sturdy enough to hold her weight. "You know I do," she hissed as electricity shot up her spine. "Don't tease."
His tongue licked along her shoulder, right over his favorite spot, right as his hands moved together around the front of her slip-knickers and darted downward, covering her mound, pushing up with the heel of one palm against her sensitive slit. "Do you accept that this feeling between us is a good thing, Granger?" he asked placing tender nips over that area that made her writhe. "Do you accept me as your lover finally, and not just as some one-off holiday fling?"
Wasn't that just what she was thinking about earlier today? It was strange really that they were becoming more and more in-tune as the days drifted by. "Yes," she sighed, tilting her head to give him full access.
"You have to say it," he teased, lapping over the bruised area delicately. "I want to hear you say, 'I accept you as my lover, Draco Malfoy.'"
Circe, Cliodna and Godric, she'd say anything if he would just stroke her a little harder right there. "I… I accept you as my lover, Draco Malfoy," she cried out as he rolled two fingers over her clit. "I. Accept. You. All right?"
"Freely?" he asked, pulling his fingers off of her, poised and waiting. "Would you still want me if we stopped right now? Not just for the sex, but for me? For the man I am today?"
"Merlin's soul, Malfoy, yes, okay?" she huffed in sexual frustration, wanting him to return to their business without any more delay. "Yes, I want you freely as my lover. I accept you, how you've changed, and I believe what you said to me today. All of it."
He was quiet for a moment. "Good," he rumbled, then bent down to her neck and pressed his mouth over his mark, biting down hard. At the same moment, he speared her with his fingers, the pad of his thumb stroking her nub of flesh at the top of her vulva, causing her to orgasm hard. She definitely saw stars then, just as he'd promised. He held her back against him as she trembled, lifting his mouth off of her sore flesh. "Like that?" he breathed into her ear. "Want more?"
Feeling like one prodigious collection of hyper-aware nerves, all Hermione could do was whimper in pleading and nod.
"Good," he seductively whispered again as he turned her to capture her lips in a searing kiss that rocked her soul. He tasted like the hot sizzle in the air just before lightning struck – wild, electric, coppery metallic. Something about that fact buzzed the back of her brain, but before she could delve deeper for answers, he'd dragged her down to the ancient, oak flooring, removed their clothes and her glasses in haste, and laid her out like a banquet, proceeding to feast upon her with a naughty mouth and sinful hands. She came twice, once when he bit her between the thighs, nipping her clit so hard that it stung, the second time when he laved away the hurt, expertly using his tongue to bring her to the very heights of bliss again. He moved up her body even as her lower lips continued to quiver, her insides still rippling with rolling waves of pleasure from this last climax, and mounted her, pressing his penis in between her soaking folds and rubbing gently up and down. "I accept you, too, Hermione Granger. Freely. All of you, just as you are," he murmured against her lips, his pale skin and silvery eyes practically glowing in the moonlight shining down upon them through the tall, picture windows. "Finally, I accept you."
In the next breath, he entered her and it was a hard, determined, and possessive taking, so unlike earlier this afternoon. He latched onto her left nipple immediately, pulling it into his mouth with a hard suck that was both pleasure and pain, refusing to let go as he took her deep and a little rough, slamming his body into hers in a sweaty, fast coupling that left her heart completely vulnerable, her lungs begging for air, and her throat sore from screaming loudly and lustily in ecstasy. His magical aura completely overwhelmed her as they orgasmed together, opening her up, forcing her mental shields to drop again and once more, that indeterminable need for each other rose up between them, touching her heart. It was a frightening and beautiful few moments, leaving Hermione emotionally exposed. Tears of joy co-mingling with fear slid down her cheeks once more.
In the rush of feelings after, Draco shushed her, kissed her, soothed her as he always did, holding her close to his pounding chest that was damp from perspiration. "Did you see the stars as I promised, princess?" he playfully teased, licking her lips like a cat with cream, raining light kisses down upon them.
With a tremulous smile, Hermione reached up and very gently placed her fingertips on his cheek. "Yes. I even touched them."
TO BE CONTINUED…
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Any guesses as to what's really going on now, dear readers? I'll let your mind consider all the possibilities...
Pictures that accompany this fic can be found on my Photobucket site. Just go to Photobucket and search for "RZZMG". "I'd Rather Be In Love" has its own folder.
1 galleon = approximately 5 British Pounds according to JKR's calculations. That makes Hermione & Draco's dinner cost 6,375 British Pounds or 7742 Euros or US$9,255.
M.L.E. = Magical Law Enforcement
Silencio = Charm to silence all sound; JKR's canon spell.
Disillusionment = Charm to make a person appear to blend into their surroundings, like a chameleon; JKR's canon spell.
Aboculus = Latin for "sightless." A spell I made up for my various fanfics.
Geminus Effingo = Latin for "double copy." A spell I made up for my various fanfics.
License = In Europe, a Bachelor's degree is also called a License. The term is interchangeable, and depends upon the school you attend.
Cliodna =(pronounced "CLEEV-nah") Celtic Irish goddess of beauty, the eldest daughter of the last Druid of Ireland. She appears on a Chocolate Frog card in JKR's world.