Author's Note: Hello, hello! Sorry I didn't update yesterday, things have been rather hectic at home of late, mostly because I had to get up early for school. ANYWAY, I have had a REALLY BAD case of writer's block, and have written chapter 6 for Beneath the Darkness so many times its doing my head in. Each time I write it, it seems really crappy, so I delete the whole thing and start again, ending the same way every time. It sucks, so I'll tryyyyyy to get out a chapter of that for you guys, but I'll have to see how my writer's block is going when I get back from choir this afternoon. :l Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! :)
Disclaimer: Dude, I don't have enough hours in the day to own Harry Potter. :'(
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Draco lead her up to his impeccably neat room and motioned his arm through the doorway. "Here." He opened a drawer for her and laid out an old t-shirt of his and some boxer shorts. "I don't have any other pyjamas, so..."
"It's fine, Draco. Thank you."
He nodded stiffly and pivoted on his heel, striding out of the room, leaving Hermione alone. She sat on his large four poster, gathering his t-shirt to her face and inhaling deeply. It smelt so strongly of him, and she quickly took off her own shirt and bra and tugged on the replacement, closing her eyes and revelling in the smell, letting herself fall back into his soft quilt and pillows. She put on his boxers and smiled as a memory of her doing this years ago floated to the surface. Sudden curiosity gripped her and she got up off Draco's bed and looked around his room. It was sparsely decorated, telling her that he had planned to go back to England. It was painted in a deep mossy green with gold skirting boards. The picture frames were golden as well, containing pictures of his mother and pictures from back at Hogwarts, pictures of him smiling and laughing and so much younger. He looked so different now. So grown up, and so sad. Haunted by things that his mind could not erase. The War had aged him, had aged all of them. She remembered his story; he had to grow up quickly, from a boy into a man very fast. They all had had to.
She sighed and her gaze wandered over to a small but thick photo album poking out of his half-open bottom drawer. She tugged it out, frowning slightly. It was old and worn, its weathered red leather cover creased and faded with age. Hermione opened it curiously.
There were photos of her. So many photos of her, of them together. They filled up most of the album, though some pictures were of him and his mother in earlier, happier days. He had labelled most of them, his thin and slanting handwriting easily discernible. Hermione's birthday; trip to Paris with Mother; the place I'm going to propose to Hermione.
She saw tears dripping onto the black pages, and she quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. But she kept the album open, staring at a picture that must've been Draco's favourite because this page was very worn and dog-eared. It was a photo of them playing in the snow at Malfoy Manor, and her tears started falling like a waterfall, cascading down her face and dripping into her curly hair. He was smiling his disarmingly handsome smile, his gray eyes twinkling and content from underneath his matching gray woollen hat. He was grasping her around the waist as she leant forwards, and she was smiling too, her face completely exposed because her scarf was becoming unravelled and was wrapping itself around Draco's booted left foot. The camera had caught them at the perfect moment, captured a moment so pure and beautiful it almost hurt to look at.
It was also the only Muggle photo in the album, the only one that was forever still.
She stared at it for a while, and then made the decision. She hopped off the bed and padded to the door.
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Draco was lying on his sofa, stripped down to his boxers. His eyes were wide open, and he stared at the ceiling, his ankles crossed and his fingers laced over his stomach. He couldn't sleep with her here; it made him restless, it made him ache to sleep with his arms around her, to feel her warmth against him. But he couldn't, and he wouldn't do that to Weasley, no matter how much he hated the red-haired git. So he just lay there, staring and thinking. After a little longer of circling thoughts about Hermione, he got up and went to sit on the window seat. He opened the curtain and stared out at the inky black night sky dotted with stars, the full moon taking centre stage and glowing a glorious silvery gold and leeching the colour from everything; his lounge and garden were all varying shades of black and white, making everything look fantastical and surreal.
Suddenly he heard footsteps coming into the lounge, and willed himself not to give in and turn around.
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He was sitting on the window seat, facing his garden outside and he didn't see her come in. His body was bathed in the moonlight, and she noticed that he was only wearing a pair of boxers, so his torso was pale and bare. Everything was black and white, and he slowly turned to watch her over his shoulder, his eyes gray and stormy and his complexion pale and impassive. His hair gleamed a burning white, and the shadows on his face rippled and danced as his neck twisted gracefully. And he was beautiful.
She made her way over to him at the window, sitting down next to him. His eyes followed her the entire time, which was both unnerving and comforting. It was the same as they'd always been, him watching her every move with thoughtful and calculating interest. Once she sat down though, his attention snapped back to the garden outside, the branches of the black trees rustling their gray leaves in the light breeze. She watched him, but he made no indication that he noticed her; indeed, it seemed that he was so absorbed in the scene outside that she was invisible to him. He could've been a statue, were it not for his breathing and the occasional blink of his eyes.
They sat like that in silence for half an hour, Draco surveying the quiet street and Hermione studying him like a fresh new textbook, before she leaned against him. He froze even more, if that was possible, and his gaze was turned down to her head on his shoulder. They sat for another ten minutes before he tentatively wrapped one arm around her shoulder, the other stroking her hair soothingly. She could feel his hard muscles against her back, so she scooted into his lap. He seemed to give in to something he was trying to hold back, and he gathered her in his arms, his lips pressing gently to her temple. She turned her head to watch him, but his eyes remained impassive, watching the stars outside again. He was still so guarded, so tense; she could feel it in the hardness of his shoulders, the faraway look in his eyes. They sat like that for about an hour or so, Hermione absently stroking his side.
Suddenly Draco turned her around and pushed her down so she was lying down on the seat, facing Draco, who was above her. "What are you-"
"Shh." He whispered, his eyes roaming her face, sweeping stray curls away with gentle fingers. She leaned into his touch. "Shut your eyes."
She complied cautiously. His fingers began to trace her face, smoothing the crease between her eyebrows, tender fingertips ghosting over her lips, which she parted slightly. He traced her eyelids, to the tip of her nose, along her jaw... He lovingly peppered soft kisses all over her face, coming to rest on her lips. Now his kisses were slow and sensual, gathering warmth in the pit of her stomach as he travelled down to her jaw, and then her neck. He sucked her skin gently, then returned to her mouth.
"I love you, Draco."
He just intensified the kiss. But he couldn't say it. All these months he'd told her that he loved her, all this time and he couldn't say it to her watching eyes.
"Draco...?"
He sat up, watching her and frowning. "What?"
"Will you take me upstairs and sleep with me tonight?"
Draco almost smiled, but kept his impassive mask in place as he inclined his head.
He did as she asked, gathering her in his arms and walking up to his bedroom, his lips never leaving hers. Draco delicately placed her on his bed, but then stood next to it, watching her anxiously.
"Draco what's wrong?"
"I can't. You and Weasley-"
"Are finished, Draco. I... I never really loved anyone but you. You know that."
"No I don't."
"Now you do. I never really wanted Ron that way, but he was my best friend and I couldn't say no..."
"Learn to say no, Granger. I have. Countless times. But that was due to very unpleasant things."
A smile tugged at her lips when he used that nickname, a smile she tried to hide as she always pretended that she hated it. "I will. But I won't really need to now, because-"
"Are you sure you are completely finished with Weasley?"
"Yes."
"Did you... did you ever have..." It was the first time Draco had ever struggled for words.
"Hmm?"
"Nevermind." He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "And you're sure you want to get back with me? And you're sure you are absolutely done with Weasley? Because when you're mine, Granger, you're mine and no-one else's. No-one else can hold a piece of your heart if you give it completely to me."
"It's over between me and Ronald. And we've done this before, stop acting like it's such a big deal-"
"It is a big deal, Hermione."
"How?"
"We... we haven't been this close for nearly two years-"
"Yes we have, when you came to visit me we were close!" Argued Hermione, her eyebrows pulling down into a scowl.
"Granger! That doesn't fucking count! You were in a fucking coma-"
"I was conscious though! I knew it was you!"
"My point, Granger, is that we haven't been this close..." He paused. "We haven't been this close emotionally or physically for nearly two years, and I don't want to blow it again." He got into the bed and lay next to her, holding her and nuzzling her neck.
Hermione frowned, trying to roll over and face him, but his arms had trapped her facing away from him. "Draco I thought we were going to-"
"And I told you that I've learnt to say no. I'm saying no, Granger. I don't want anything tonight."
The warmth in the pit of her stomach didn't leave, and she whined at him, even though she knew exactly how childish she was being. "But Draco why not? What about what I want?"
"Because this time around, I want to make sure I make no mistakes. I'm never letting you go again. You're too good to let slip through my fingers, Granger. So we're going to take it slow and steady, because that's what wins the race."
Her surprise overpowered her annoyance and she nearly giggled in delight. He had obviously been reading Aesop's Fables. Muggle stories. She had never been able to persuade him to read Muggle books before.
"I won't ever leave you again then." Hermione said, pulling one of his hands up to her face and kissing it.
Draco fell asleep almost instantly, but Hermione lay awake for a long time, thinking.
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Author's Note: Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter (and that there weren't too many random editing errors)! Whenever I do a spellcheck on this thing, it always comes up with perfectly spelled words that are wrong. My guess is that this website (or, more likely, my web browser) is set to American English, whereas we Kiwis use U.K. English, which gets really confusing for some things. That was just a heads up on any 'spelling mistakes' you might come across, because I know most of the people who read these stories are Americans (or from America) :) They are right, but not in American English ;) Anyway, leave a review and follow and/or favourite if you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!
~Chongy
