Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the books, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.
Chapter 7
Draco scratched his head irritably as he stood in the middle of his basement, staring at his lab which had been untouched for three days. He was no workaholic, but sometimes when there were no commissions and all his previous works were completely finished down to the paperwork, he just gets so bored out of his wits. Like now.
He almost wished someone somewhere in the wizarding world would fall horribly sick.
He let out a frustrated groan, tilted his head back in resignation, and climbed up his stairs with his eyes closed. He must have looked like an idiot, but the complete lack of anything worthwhile to do just turns him mental sometimes.
He slowly opened his eyes as he felt sunlight fall on his eyelids, knowing he was well out of that dark lab. From where he was standing, he could see his mother in the conservatory, or sunroom, if you will, down the hall. There were two other ladies with her, and tea and biscuits were distributed around the little table they were surrounding.
His father, Lucius, could never figure out why Narcissa would want an entire room of glass built, where everyone from the outside could see every single thing you were doing, when there was the indoor entertainment room or the study. Narcissa only huffed and told him that congregations in the study, as Lucius was used to, were made for people with dark dealings, and that for lighthearted conversation a bit of sunlight and fresh air were needed. Lucius had walked away muttering to himself about senility in old ladies, but had the conservatory built according to Narcissa's wishes anyway.
Personally, Draco thought both of them had valid points, and in his opinion a combination of the ideas of the two would have been better. He would have preferred to have a bit of solid, non-transparent panels inserted here and there in the conservatory. It was just too bright the way his mother had it made.
He climbed up the stairs to his wing of the manor and opened the door to his room. Bored out of his mind and with nothing to do, he was thinking that maybe sleeping might not be such a bad idea. Or getting a book to read. But he had read every book in his personal library, and he had gotten enough sleep the previous days to last him a week, so those ideas were instantly scratched out. He flopped on his bed belly-up and stared at the ceiling.
He must have stared for a good five minutes before realizing he was being unproductive yet again. He turned his head to the right and saw something sticking out from under his table. Curious, he stood up to pull it out and groaned in dismay when he saw what it was.
It was Hermione's umbrella, which had been left unused in his room ever since that night he went to try and give it back to her. How long has it been since then? Three weeks? A month? His last encounter with her two weeks ago had led him to a long, cold shower in his bathroom when he got home. He was annoyed at the fact that the simple thought of her could stir his inner animal from deep slumber, and that seeing her in person could lead him to a lonesome handsome.
He seriously had to get laid. Because of his work, he had been pretty much stuck in his lab the past year or so, and he felt that maybe this unusual attraction to the Gryffindor was a product of that. The first encounter with a hot female woke up something which had lain dormant for so long, something which was now itching to come out.
He just hated how, whenever he closed his eyes and thought of something remotely naughty, a certain brown-haired girl always came to mind.
A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts, for which he was thankful. As he was about to open his mouth to say, "Come in," his double doors flew open and his best friend, Blaise Zabini strode into the room.
"Oh, thank god you're here," Blaise greeted dramatically.
Draco sat back on his bed and leaned on the headboard. "Of course I'd be here," he replied. "There are no commissions coming in, and I am getting mental from the lack of anything to do." He watched as Blaise set his cloak on the backrest of one of the chairs in the room and proceeded to pace."Do you have any plans of telling me what you want?" Draco asked after about a minute of Blaise's pacing.
Blaise impatiently held up one finger and continued to pace. "I will, I'll tell you. But give me a minute here, Malfoy."
Draco rolled his eyes and contented himself with running his forefinger on the serpent ring he was wearing while Blaise tried to compose himself.
Blaise's head whipped around so suddenly, Draco was quite taken aback. He jerked and gave Blaise a half-glare, half-WTF look. "Okay," his dark-skinned friend finally said. "I need you to come to a ball with me."
Draco's instant reaction was a resounding "What?" The blonde rubbed his temples, confounded at how loud his own voice went. "You want me to go to a ball with you? A fucking ball? Are you gay, Blaise Zabini?"
Blaise threw at Draco the nearest piece of object he could get his hands on, which happened to be the paperweight on Draco's table. Draco, fortunately, ducked in time. "I said come with me, you bloody idiot, not go with me. Rose Bennett's presentation to society."
"Presentation?" Draco repeated offhandedly, immediately uninterested and proceeding to search for the paperweight which buried itself in between his pillows. "People still actually do that? I was under the impression that presentations were already considered obsolete."
Blaise took a seat on the couch in the room and threw his head back. "They are, but some old families just can't bear to let go of some archaic traditions, and the Bennett family's one of them." Blaise looked at Draco pleadingly. "I need you to come with me, Draco," he said. "I can't bear facing Rose's father on my own."
"Pfff," Draco said, carelessly waving a hand at him. "I don't care much for balls. Besides, it's not like there's anything going on between you and the Bennett girl for you to be intimidated by her father." Draco suddenly fixed Blaise with an intense stare. "Is there?" When Blaise could do nothing but shrug, Draco leapt to his feet. "There is! Blaise Zabini, you've been romping about with Rose Bennett and you didn't even care to tell me?"
Blaise gave him another shrug, as if that one action would explain everything. "It just sort of… Happened. Please, Draco, you have to come with me. I need all the morale support I could get. Do you know that her father actually purchased one of those Muggle handguns and keeps it always in his coat? He could shoot my head off if he wanted, though why he'd want a gun when he could just use Avada is beyond me."
Draco raised an eyebrow at his friend. "You're seriously asking me to go with you?"
"To accompany me," Blaise stressed.
Draco heaved a sigh of resignation and threw the paperweight which he had finally located back at Blaise. "Fine," he said. Blaise easily caught the paperweight in his hand and placed it back on the table, standing up at the same time.
"Thank you. I'll make it up to you, I promise." Blaise took his cloak and threw it over his shoulders, casting Draco one last look of gratitude. "It's tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at 6 in the evening. I swear, Draco Malfoy, if I don't die at the end of the ball, I'll be at your service forever." With another dramatic swish, Blaise exited Draco's room, and Draco was once again left to his own ruminations.
Ball, huh? he thought. Balls always attracted girls. It gave them a chance to prettify themselves and best one another in terms of beauty. He might just find someone just as bored and just as… Needy, as he was, if he was lucky. Maybe the ball would not be such a bad idea after all, if it would take his mind off the know-it-all Gryffindor who had been invading his dreams recently.
Hermione strode down the hall wearing an elegant silver strapless gown that went to her mid-calf, with matching silver heels and accessories. Her hair was up in a stylish loose bun, with tendrils of hair framing her face. To her right was Ginny, wearing a gold sequined dress that ran past her ankles, her hair down and straightened. Together, they caught the eyes of many as they arrived at the Bennett Manor, obviously the most attractive of the guests that have arrived so far.
Though invited, Hermione originally had no plans of going, as she was tired and wanted to take a break by staying at home with a tub of ice cream while watching cheesy movies on the telly, but Harry was unexpectedly called into work, and Ginny had begged her to come and be her company. Unable to say no, Hermione found herself going through her dresses and gowns, looking for something suitable to wear, and soon she and Ginny were off to the party.
Rose Bennett was three years her junior, so even though 70 percent of the faces were familiar, they were only that. Familiar names and faces. Very little of those people were those she had actually spoken to back at Hogwarts. After all, Hermione was not, and still is not, exactly the social butterfly back in school, so though she was not the type to keep to herself, she was not as forward as the others either. It sort of made her feel really old and anti-social, actually.
"Oh my god!" Ginny squealed from beside her, and Hermione turned her head to see what was happening. Two girls whom she remembered to have been in Ravenclaw and in Ginny's year were walking towards them, and Ginny was meeting them halfway. "I haven't seen you two in ages!" She reached out and the three of them engaged in a quick hug.
"It's been so long, Ginny!" the brunette—Alicia Dawson, if Hermione was not mistaken—of the two girls greeted. "How have you been? And how is life as Harry Potter's girlfriend for, what, four years?"
The other girl, Emile Winnipeg, clapped her hands together in glee. "Has it been that long? Oh, I'm so happy for you!"
Hermione watched from the sideline as the three updated each other with their lives, until she could not wait any longer. "Gin," she said softly. "I just need to find the loo, okay?"
"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed. "Hermione! I'm sorry, I was so caught up, I neglected you! Alicia, Emile, you both know Hermione." She gestured between the three. "Hermione, these are Alicia and Emile, from Ravenclaw."
Hermione smiled as she nodded in the direction of the two. "Pleasure to meet you," she said, to which they replied the same. "Anyway, Gin, I'll catch up with you later, alright? I'll just go look for the toilet." At Ginny's assent, Hermione turned her back to them and proceeded down the hallway, looking around.
The house was magnificent. It had a somewhat French Baroque architecture, which Hermione simply loved. She reached the Great Hall and gasped. Hogwarts had an enchanted ceiling, but in the Bennett Manor, it was one of the walls of the Great Hall which was enchanted, allowing those inside to see the field outside which faced a beautiful mountain range. Tables were set up on the grass outside, and many of Rose Bennett's guests were mingling out in the moonlight.
It truly was a beautiful sight to see: men and women in gowns and dress robes that gleamed under the pale light of the moon, magical lanterns flickering on the tables, and several children chasing each other gleefully around the bushes. The inside of the Great Hall was pretty much the same, only the lighting was brighter, as several chandeliers hung on the high ceiling.
Hermione scanned the hall and easily spotted Rose, wearing a beautiful white gown that glittered with her every move. Hermione did not quite remember Rose being as charming back at Hogwarts, but apparently she matured a lot over the past four years that Hermione hadn't seen her. She was about to walk over to the debutante to greet her and congratulate her for a successful coming out party, until she noticed the man standing beside Rose.
It was not really the sight of Blaise Zabini, standing beside Rose and fidgeting uneasily as Mr. Bennett addressed him, which stayed Hermione, but the shock of white blonde hair immediately behind Blaise that registered in her brain. Without looking at the face, she knew who owned that blonde head. Blaise should have been sign enough in the first place anyway.
Hermione whirled around and changed course before Draco could look in her direction. The last thing she needed was another face-to-face encounter with him when she was already doing oh-so-well. The last time the scene on her couch had played in her head was actually more than a week ago now. She could now sit there watching the telly without suddenly jerking as the tingling sensations overcame her again.
She spent a good one hour and more reacquainting with old Hogwarts faces. Sometime into the night, she finally found Ginny searching for her out in the gardens, and they both went to see Rose—now without the company of the two Slytherins, Hermione noted thankfully—to finally give her their compliments, before they went back out to the gardens to sit with Ginny's other girl friends. Once or twice a strapping young man walked over to their table and asked them to dance. They both politely declined both times, Ginny with loyalty to Harry in mind, and with Hermione just not trusting her two left feet.
Eventually, Hermione got tired of hearing the annoying prattle of voices from some of Ginny's friends. Somehow, they did not strike Hermione as the type of people Ginny would hang out with if given the choice. They seemed a bit too absentminded compared to Ginny's usual group. Alicia and Emile, the first two of Ginny's friends that Hermione met that night, seemed to be the only two exceptions.
Hermione excused herself from the table, saying she wanted to get another drink and take a short walk. She went back into the manor to where the buffet table was and refilled her wine glass. While more white wine was being poured, she noticed a balcony at the second story of the manor, visible from downstairs, and saw the moon shining through. Thinking the sight would be beautiful from up there, she got her wine glass back and walked up the stairs to get to the said balcony.
The first thing she did when she stepped out onto the ledge was gasp. The scenery was as beautiful as she had imagined. Below, the visitors in the gardens could be seen and heard faintly chatting with one another. Farther back was the expanse of grass that stretched until it came to a rest at the bank of a lake, before several mountains in the distance. Hermione could not see the lake from down there at the gardens, but now from up here she could clearly see how the moon was reflected in its calm waters.
She was drinking from her wine glass when her peripheral vision registered something shrinking into the shadows, and she looked sharply to her left, hand coming automatically to where her wand was hidden in her purse. She heard an exasperated sigh, and a few moments later, Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows.
"I was sort of hoping I could step out of here before you noticed," he said, "but I guess without your usually unruly hair blocking your face I wasn't quite as hidden as I had hoped."
Hermione lowered her hand from her purse and sighed. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"What do I want?" Draco frowned at her. "What makes you think I wanted anything? I've had this place to myself for about 15 minutes already when you suddenly came and proceeded to 'ooh' and 'aah' at the view. Now you could run along and go back to your friends, wherever the hell they may be. It's peaceful up here, and I want to keep it that way."
Hermione rolled her eyes and stayed in place, looking back at the lake. "It's noisy down there. At my table, at least. I went up here for some quiet." Hermione put her glass down on the ledge and looked at Draco. "Tell you what. We could both stay here and just ignore each other. We could also face opposite directions. That way, we could actually pretend that neither of us have any company tonight out here on this balcony."
Draco, glad at the idea of not having to be forced back into the mess of people mingling downstairs, immediately agreed, and they both took their positions on the opposite ends of the balcony. Hermione continued to observe their surrounding environment, noting the chirping of birds from a distance and trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. At the other end of the balcony, Draco sipped on his own glass of wine, trying to remind himself to think of Hermione not being out there with him.
He looked up at the night sky. Why? He asked whatever powers were working on his life from up there. I pray that we not see each other, and you give me just the opposite. WHY? He personally thought that whatever divine entity was up there was out to make his life miserable on purpose.
He stole a glance at Hermione from the corner of his eyes. Her silver gown suited her more than Draco would have imagined it would. Everything about the way she looked that night, from her dress, to the way her hair was made, to how she conducted herself with every motion, was elegant. Even the way she sipped her wine looked more sophisticated than he had ever seen on another woman other than his mother. He noticed that she shivered from time to time when a cold gust of air came their way, and even the way her shoulders shuddered was graceful.
Cursing himself for feeling the impulse to do what he was about to do, he set his wine glass down on the ledge long enough to pull his coat off, then walked to Hermione's side of the balcony. He felt her shoulders stiffen when he threw the coat over her icy shoulders, but she did not protest. Perhaps the cold was getting to her and muddling whatever brain activity she was capable of.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she said, accepting the coat and pulling it tighter around her.
Draco shushed her. "No talking."
For minutes they stayed there, standing beside one another and staring off at the far distance, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Hermione was wondering to herself what was different about her encounter with Draco tonight. Maybe it was the beautiful scenery, maybe it was the wine, but she found that being in the same place with Draco tonight was not only bearable, but was peaceful and… Secure.
She had not the faintest idea how many minutes she stood staring out at the open area in front of them, but Hermione found herself turning to face Draco Malfoy, as he did the same. The coat fell off her shoulders and lay on the ground, forgotten, as the two sworn enemies succumbed to the eyes of one another, pulled into something neither of them understood.
Whatever was happening at the balcony that night was to remain their secret, that much they both knew.
The kiss, when it came, as Draco's lips dropped to meet hers was tentative and unsure, as one would do when trying to gauge the water temperature in the tub before a hot bath. When their lips parted after that brief touch, Hermione felt as though her guts were pulled out with it, and she opened her eyes, which she had not noticed had been glued shut, with a gasp. She absently noted Draco's hands come up to her shoulders, and the feel of his warm hands on her cold, bare shoulders elicited another gasp from her slightly parted lips.
Draco swallowed as he felt another urge to kiss the brainy witch who was standing in front of him. A small part of his brain was screaming a warning of, "Mudblood! Mudblood! Mudblood!" at him, but he mentally waved it away as he swooped down for another kiss, this time firmer than the last, but just as calculating. He gripped her shoulders when he felt her hands slide up his back and clutch at him as she gave in helplessly to the sensations his kiss was stirring inside her. The pent-up energy he had accumulated with their every encounter prior to that night was slowly trying to make its way out of his pants, and he groaned when her hips accidentally grazed it.
Hermione's fingers tightened on Draco's back at the guttural sound that came from inside him. She gasped yet again as the urgency in the kiss heightened, Draco's need obviously mirroring her own, and she struggled for a breath of air before long. She pulled back and stared into Draco's eyes, and she saw in them his confusion about what was happening, as well as the raw need for contact with her. Unthinking, she brought her hands up to his face and pulled his head down for another kiss, one that was probing and at the same time questioning.
She had never before felt this much excitement from making out with anyone. Not that she had had a lot of opportunities for it, of course. More than 50% of her excitement, she was sure, stemmed from the fact that what was happening was the taboo of taboos. This was her and Draco Malfoy, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, a Muggle-born and a Pureblood, Harry Potter's best friend and Voldemort's most influential ex-minion's only son. The fact that they had managed to stand a few minutes together without anybody throwing hexes should have already thrown the world off-balance.
Her hands went to the back of his head, burying themselves in his hair and pulling him closer to her. To reciprocate, Draco slid his hands from her shoulders to her waist, then to her back. He heard her whimper as he bit on her lower lip, and memories of how her bare skin under her white tank top felt under his hands flushed over him.
He pushed her to the wall behind her, eliciting another moan from her as she came in contact with the stone. He let go of her lips and attacked her neck with his mouth, biting with just enough pressure so that she would get deliciously hurt. At the same time, his right hand was slowly skimming up and down her left side, coming closer and closer to her breast. Just as he cupped both breasts in his hands, she tugged softly at his hair, hurting him and feeding his lust.
He brought his lips down to her breasts and kissed both mounds that were peeking from the top of her dress. He distinctly heard Hermione whisper a breathy "Malfoy," and, unable to stop himself, focused on one breast and placed a hickey on it. As he watched the kiss mark slowly turn red right before his eyes, he felt an animalistic hunger from within himself. He wanted to take Granger. He wanted to take her so badly, he almost did not care if he did it right then and there. If this went any further, there would be no turning back.
Thankfully, whatever hold he had on himself prevailed. He stood up straight and faced Hermione square in the face, but kept his hands on her hips. Her own hands were on his shoulders and started to slide down as she noticed the change in the mood. Both were breathing heavily from the exercise that their lips and hands had engaged in.
"Granger," he said when he had finally found his voice. His hands involuntarily clamped down where they were on her hips as he watched Hermione's chest rise and fall with every breath. "I… Can't…"
Hermione was slightly surprised. She had always believed that Draco was the type to not back down when faced with the prospect of sex, so him saying he can't made for a surprising turn of events. Yet she was thankful they had not gone any further. She was pretty sure that if they had continued, it would be something she would regret for a long time, if not forever, no matter how much she could have, and probably would have, enjoyed it.
She nodded and brought her hands from his arms down to her sides. "I can't, either," she replied, looking downward as she talked. She did not want him to see in her eyes just how much she had liked and wanted what was happening despite the fact that, like him, she "can't."
Draco silently cursed as he kept his eyes on the young witch who now refused to look at him. Just when it was getting good, Malfoy, you had to stop it, he mentally scolded himself. Still, there were many factors to take into consideration before engaging in sex with your school rival. First of all was the situation they were in: a formal ball held by a friend, or acquaintance, at least. Anybody could walk up to the balcony and catch them any minute. Second… There was that tiny detail about them being incompatible considering their backgrounds, school-wise and family-wise.
Still… Draco did not doubt that the sex would have been good if they were in the right circumstances. Cursing himself for what felt like the fiftieth time that night, Draco reached out for Hermione's chin and tilted her face upward for another kiss. Her eyes enlarged at the sudden movement and eventually slowly started to shut.
Eyes closed, she savored the feel of his lips against her, of his tongue dueling with her own. She could still taste the wine they had both been drinking, as well as something else which she was sure was distinctly just Draco's. The kiss slowed to a stop, and she felt Draco lift his lips off of hers. Her eyes remained closed as she relished the remnants of that last kiss.
When she opened her eyes, Draco was no longer on the balcony with her. She was alone, with no sign left of Draco even being with her that night, except for a hickey and his coat, folded neatly beside her wine glass.
Author's Note: Well, just in case some of you didn't get something I wrote up there… The "lonesome handsome" part. Well, what do you call sex with a total of three people? Threesome, right? And with two people, it's a twosome. If it's with yourself? That's right. Handsome. Because you use your hand for it. Get it? Get it? I hope you do. :))
Well, here's chapter 7. I know, it took forever again. But at least this time it only took a month. Haha! I'm really sorry for whatever delay I always seem to bring. :)
I'm not really sure how "well" this chapter turned out to be. So… Just tell me what you think of it. :D
