Chapter 9 – Hermione and Draco go to a Restaurant:

(Present Day)

Hermione undressed quickly and picked up her hairbrush. She started to brush her hair and she said aloud, "My brush doesn't get caught in my hair!" She threw the brush across the room.

She should not blame Draco for what happened between them tonight, for she was as much at fault as he was. He probably didn't know the reporter was out there, but in the back of her mind, she still thought he was capable of something like that. She still didn't fully trust him.

Nevertheless, wow, that kiss was amazing.

She looked at her reflection, pointed at herself and said, "You've got it bad, girl."

She went to crawl into bed and she knew she was too keyed up to sleep. She had flooed Anthony as soon as she got home, but he was already gone for the weekend. There was a Wizard Summit in Northern England, which he had to go to for work. She had forgotten about his trip. She should have known he would have alerted the press that she would be at the theatre. She should have just come in the front entrance, given the photographers and the reporters some of her time and attention, and maybe this wouldn't have happened. In a way, it was all her fault.

She plumped up her pillow and decided to try to get some sleep.

(Flashback)

Hermione found herself sitting all alone, in a corner of the library, and she was coughing. She had a very bad cold, she felt like shite, but she also had a lot of work to do. This was her last year at school, and she had to do well. She wanted top spot. If she was to be number one, she had to work hard.

When she entered the library, she saw Draco Malfoy walk into one of the other buildings. She had not really seen him in two months, since the teashop. They did not have classes together, this being their last year and all. They both lived off campus. There was no reason to see each other.

She and Anthony had just broken up, again. She hated that it was a week before Christmas, her parents were overseas, and she would be alone. She thought she should be mourning the loss of a boyfriend, more than mourning the loss of a companion for Christmas, but there you are, she wasn't mourning the loss of Anthony because he wasn't the love of her life.

That made her think of what Draco Malfoy had told her. He said she was the type to fall in love forever. She thought so too, it's just that her 'forever' was not Anthony Goldstein. She really hoped that they would not get back together this time, because she had a funny feeling if they did, she would be 'stuck' with him forever.

She shivered and sniffled. She felt horrid. She couldn't believe she would be alone AND sick for Christmas. Her throat hurt and she had a headache, too. She closed her book and put her head down on the table. The next thing she knew, she felt a hand on her back.

"Are you okay?" Malfoy asked.

"No," she said in a weak, pitiful voice.

He sat down beside her, his hand rubbing her back. He had a bad habit of doing that, she thought, but once again, she was not going to ask him to stop. It felt good. It felt comforting. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sick and alone," she said. She always got a bit weepy and melodramatic when she was sick.

She heard him chuckle, so she looked up and said, "My illness makes you laugh? Thanks, Malfoy." She gathered up her books and stood to leave. He stood as well.

"Have you seen the school's Medi-witch?" he asked.

"No, it's just a cold," she said.

"Well, you do look pretty bad," he said. Hermione frowned at him and then turned to walk out of the library.

"Great, it's snowing. Now I'm sick, alone, I look bad, and it's snowing," she concluded to herself.

"Here, Granger, let me get your things," he offered. He took her book bag and swung it over his shoulder with his. "Why don't you go to the Medi-witch? I'll walk along with you to make sure you get there safely."

She looked up at him and said, "How tall are you?"

"Pretty tall, why, do you want to ride on my shoulders?" He didn't know what that had to do with anything, but he would humour her.

"I don't know, you look tall, that's all," she said with her hoarse voice. She started coughing as the wind and snow hit her in the face. She was convinced it hit her harder than it did anyone else. She turned to look at him again, her toe caught on a piece of uneven payment, and she tripped. He dropped their bags and reached down for her. She sat down on the ground and looked at her bloody knee.

"That will teach you to wear skirts in the winter," he said. "Here, shall I carry you? I won't put you on my shoulders."

"Are you insane?" she asked. "Hey Malfoy, why are you being so nice to me?"

"I thought you were going to ask my weight now or something. As to why I'm being so nice, well, am I being nice?" he asked. He pulled her up and picked up their bags.

"I think you are," she said softly. She turned and said, "May I have my bag. I'm going to apparate home and go to bed."

He handed her bag to her and she started coughing. She couldn't stop. She couldn't apparate. She looked back at him, and he had his head cocked to one side, and an amused look on his face. She pouted a bit. He said, "The Medi-witch is this way." He pointed down the sidewalk. He took her bag from her again, took her wrist, and led the way. She had no choice but to follow.

(Present Day)

Hermione had a terrible day at work. She could not concentrate, she had just given two interviews, she didn't get her point across in either, and she knew she was going to have to face Draco eventually, and knowing him, he would probably poke his head in her office right about now.

"Hey, Granger," Draco said, poking his head in her office.

She sat upright and shook her head. "My psychic ability amazes even me!" she exclaimed. Maybe she was a psychic now.

"Good to know," he answered back, puzzled.

"What do you want?" she asked. She realized if she were a psychic, she would already know the answer to that question, so she was not a psychic after all.

"I made a lunch meeting with that reporter, today. She wants to interview us today. She may be a bit earnest, but she said she doesn't want to ruin our reputations; she just really wants to interview us, together. She told me it would be an angle no one else would have," he explained, "you know, kind of like a debate on paper."

Hermione looked suspicious and said, "Come on, Malfoy, you bought that? Are you getting dense in your old age?"

"I'm younger than you are, grandmother. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. If she wanted to out us as a couple, we would have already seen the story on the front page this morning," he reminded, sitting on her desk.

She swatted his leg, and said, "Up, up." He got up from her desk and stood beside it. "We aren't a couple," she said.

"You know that, I know that, but if the story had come out in the papers, everyone would have thought we were. Come on, we have to meet her in a half an hour, at some Muggle restaurant. Apparently she's a Mudblood just like you," he said, looking down at his watch.

She threw her hands in the air and said, "How can you just throw that word around like it means nothing. Stop that right now!" She sat upright, took his arm, lifted his sleeve, and pinched him very hard.

"I love it when you tell me what to do. I also love it when you yell at me and cause me pain," he purred, rubbing his arm. He walked over and shut her office door. He walked up to her, almost predatory, and she moved her seat back from the desk, to stand up. He was quicker and he pushed her seat back against the wall before she could stand, and put his hands on the armrests, trapping her. She was biting her bottom lip. He put his nose right next to hers, and she held her breath.

"I apologize for calling you that horrible word. Would you like to punish me again? Shall I suggest a spanking?" he said.

"Pervert." She put her hands up to her face in frustration, and then down quickly. "Malfoy, what are you doing to me?"

"At the moment, I'm looking down your blouse. You have a pink, lacy bra on today," he said. She looked up at his face, down at her blouse, up at his face again and she pushed him away from her hard.

She grabbed her jacket and purse, and said, "Let's go, you sick, depraved, lost soul."

"I love when women call me pet names," he laughed.

Draco and Hermione entered the little restaurant, which Draco would call a dive, and looked around for the reporter. She was sitting in a booth in the corner. She waved over to them. They joined her, and Hermione scooted into the booth first, so that she was up against the wall, and he sat next to her.

"Fine, we're here, what can we do for you?" Draco asked, annoyed.

"Let's start with civility, Mr. Malfoy. You know, I did you a big favour when I gave you those pictures back," the young reporter said, "And your little escapade at the theatre was kept quiet too. I really am interested in real news."

"Yes well, I gave you a boatload of galleons, so let's not act as if you're so noble. I know 'noble' when I see it, because I am the antithesis of noble. Now, what do you want?" he asked again.

"An exclusive, how you met, when you started dating, the works, which, by the way, I won't run until after the election. I'll run the interview from today before the election. I am ambitious, but I'm also smart. I'm not about to get on the wrong side of the future Minister of Magic or with a powerful man like Draco Malfoy," she said.

Hermione laughed, "Ha, ha, ha." She smiled at Draco. "That means I'm the future Minister and you're Draco Malfoy," she said.

"Shut up," he said back.

Hermione leaned into the girl and said, "We will give you the exclusive, not that there's much to tell since we just started seeing each other, if you can even call it that, and in exchange, you will back off until that time, agreed?"

Draco looked at Hermione and asked, "We just started seeing each other?" That was pleasant news to him.

The girl held out her hand and Hermione shook it. Draco ordered them some food, and turned to Hermione and said, "Shake her hand for me, too."

Hermione shook her head, disgusted with him, and smiled at the girl. "Mr. Malfoy agrees, too. I promise to keep in touch with you. I think your request is quite reasonable."

"Thanks, Miss Granger, and seriously, you'll make a wonderful Minister of Magic. You have my vote," she said.

"Hello," Draco said exaggerated, "other candidate sitting right here. Feelings bound to be hurt."

Hermione leaned forward and said, "Don't worry, he really doesn't have feelings."

"Thank you to you, too, Mr. Malfoy," the girl said anyway and smiled. "Now, for the time being, however, I do have some questions for you, and this article will run now, but I won't mention anything about your dating. Okay?"

Hermione and Draco both agreed and the young girl asked her questions. Hermione rather liked her. She reminded her a bit of her when she was young. After about twenty minutes, she scooted across the booth and said, "I won't take up anymore of your time, but please, stay and enjoy your meal. The food is wonderful here." She left them alone, with their salads, bread and wine.

"Draco, let's go," Hermione said, trying to move him along.

"No, I ordered food and I intend to eat it," he said.

"Then let me out," she said.

"You can climb out, if you wish, but I'm not moving," he said. The waiter brought their first dish and some more drinks. Draco started to eat.

Hermione sat there, fuming. "Draco, please, I have a lot of work to do."

"I'm not stopping you," he said.

"I can't get out," she said.

"That's not my problem, sweetheart," he smiled.

She thought about climbing over the table, but didn't think that would look good. She also didn't think it looked good for the two candidates to be seated next to each other, even if this was a Muggle establishment.

"Malfoy, I'll stay, but will you move to the other side of the booth?" she asked. She took a long drink of her soda.

"I like it here, it's easier to do this," he said. Just then, as he was eating with his right hand, his left hand went to her thigh. He moved it up her bare thigh, under her skirt. She didn't wear stockings. He squeezed her thigh, and she squeezed her legs together.

"Malfoy!" she hissed.

"Roll, Granger?" he asked, as he popped some bread in his mouth.

"Draco, move your hand," she said.

"As you wish," he laughed. He let go of the roll.

"The other hand, moron," she said.

"Oh, okay," he said. He started to move the other hand up and down her thigh.

"That's not quite what I meant. I meant move it off my leg," she ordered.

"If you're going to be the future Minister of Magic, you need to learn to say what you mean, and mean what you say," he said hauntingly. He continued to eat as if groping someone in public was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

She looked around the restaurant. The way they were seated, the last table, their backs to the wall, her side to the other wall, he in the booth in front of her, tablecloth hanging low, no one could possibly see, but still, they were in public.

The waiter brought their entrees, and Draco took a fork, and continued to eat as if nothing was amiss. Hermione couldn't even concentrate, for at that moment, his hand moved higher, and then moved over to the other thigh.

Breathing hard, her head fell back. She looked over at him, her head on the back of the seat, and he looked at her. Her eyes seemed glazed over, and his looked dark and foreboding. She said, "Please." She meant, please, do not do anything else. Either he misread her 'please', or more likely chose to ignore it, for his hand went between her thighs. She shivered.

She could no longer look at him. She turned her head slightly toward the wall. He picked up his fork, and took another bite with his right hand, as his left hand applied pressure at her apex. She moaned softly and low in her throat. He pressed on the now wet silk with his middle finger. She said a very small, "oh, oh."

He pushed the silk aside with his fingers, and moved the middle finger inside her and moved it around, in small circles. She lifted her hips slightly off the hard wood of the booth, and leaned forward. She took short little breaths.

"Stop it," she whispered.

"Make me," he whispered back.

She leaned over farther, so that her head was almost touching the table. Her right leg was under the booth, and her left leg was straight out, foot flexed, on the seat in front of them. The waiter came over and said, "Is something wrong?"

Without looking up Hermione said, "Hmmm, no, sick." She couldn't talk.

Draco stopped moving his finger for a moment and said to the waiter, "Bring us some more wine."

He pressed his finger back inside her and her stomach started flexing, she leaned back again, and put both arms straight out, her hands on the table, where she clenched it tightly.

"Oh, god, oh, god," she said. She moaned very softly and very long, and as quietly as she could. She could not believe he would do this in public, and she couldn't believe she would allow it, but it felt so good.

He had started to become very hard and he turned to look at her. She looked at him and said, "Please, stop."

"No," he said. He knew he should, but he didn't want to, and he knew that she really didn't want him to either.

She finally had the forethought to put her hand on his wrist, her other clenched the booth seat beside her legs. She tried, she really did, to remove his hand, which he now had his middle and index finger inside her, and his thumb rubbing her nub.

Her feet were presently crossed in front of her, and she squeezed her legs together so tightly he thought she would break his hand.

Finally, she felt as if she was going to scream, out of frustration and something else altogether, so she took both hands and removed his hand. She pushed him out of the booth. Pushed. Him. Out. Hard. He was appalled, but for different reasons than she. She ran to the woman's room. Draco remained at the table for a moment, and then threw money down on the top. The waiter came over and said, "Did your date have to leave?"

"Yes, she was ill," he said. He smiled, stood up, with his jacket over his front to hide his erection, and he walked down the long narrow hall to the woman's room. He looked to his left and his right, and then he tapped the door with his wand. A sign appeared that said, "Out of order." He opened the door, and locked it.

She sat on the sink, looked up at him, and said, "How could you?"

She stood from the sink and pushed him with one hand. He pushed her back. She pushed him with two hands. He pushed her hard, still with only one. She fell back into the sink. She rubbed her backside, where it hit hard on the porcelain. He rushed her, grabbed her face, and kissed her so hard she thought her neck would snap off.

His warm lips traveled down her neck, and then back up. His hands grabbed her bum, and her neck. His tongue came up to lap her lips, and then it retreated. She closed her eyes, and thought that for a moment she had forgotten how to breathe. His tongue continued to stroke her lips, softly, in anticipation of what was to come.

When the kiss finally ended, the tide that was held back by her emotions broke free, and with it was released all the passion she had felt for so long, but had denied. She actually started to cry. He looked at her, hands still on her face. He said, "What? What do you want, I'll do it!"

His lips covered her again and seized her tongue. She felt like the losing army in a battle, and she was ready for defeat. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, and moaned and held his shoulders tight. She felt the rushing tide travel down her body, to her stomach, and her legs. She could no longer stand. She put her arms around his waist and held on tight.

He understood what she was feeling, and he lifted her to sit her on the sink. Her legs parted and he pressed himself up against her, as they continued to kiss. Her breasts had become hard against their covering. He had yet to touch or kiss her breasts, and yet, just minutes before, he had his finger inside her. If she were lucid at that moment, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

His hands were on her back, and went instinctively up and down. One hand finally came around and cupped one breast. He could feel the hard tip through her shirt and bra. He ripped her shirt open with both hands, pulled it off her arms, and unclasped her bra. Her breasts sprang out and he could not believe he was finally seeing what he had dreamt of seeing for so long.

Both hands came to her breasts, triggering waves of passion through her veins and nerve endings, making her legs and stomach tremble. She felt close to orgasm, and they had just started.

She said, "Please, take me somewhere else, not here." He could not comprehend what she was saying, and he really could not have stopped even if he wanted to. His mouth went down to her hard buds, her head fell backwards, and her back arched instinctively toward his body.

He stepped closer between her legs, to spread them wider. He covered her mouth with his once more. One of her hands went to his silky hair, and held him there, against her mouth. Her other hand stroked him on the outside of his trousers. He was so hard.

His hand began to stroke the inside of her thigh as they continued to kiss. His finger traced her slit on top of her knickers, and she whimpered. "Not, here, please, I don't want to do it here."

He finally realized what she had said, he really did, but he didn't want to stop. He looked up at her and said, "You're so beautiful. Will I be able to get past your wards?"

She shook her head no.

"My house," he said. He picked up her purse, her bra, and her ripped shirt. He put his arm around her. He took his wand and disapparated them both to his bedroom. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he let her go, and she fell backwards on the bed.

He lay beside her and traced a finger again against her opening. He pulled her panties down, and attached his lips to her nipple as his fingers reentered her. His thumb pressed on her clit, rubbing it in a circle, until she withered underneath him. She widened her legs, and he started to kiss down her body. He pulled her skirt down her body as he went, and threw it on the floor. With his mouth close to her and his fingers still deep inside, her breathing became shallower, and her skin glistened with sweat. He settled himself between her legs and his mouth glazed her opening. His hands came around and cupped her bottom, lifting it closer to his mouth, so he could have a better taste. He licked her folds, and her legs clenched in response.

She moaned again, too far gone to stop. His fingers stretched her open as his mouth found her pleasure point and sucked hard. Her fiery ache fired down deep in her soul, and demanded to be released. Her climax began, but he didn't stop. He continued his relentless work even as her waves and tremors began to shake her lithe body with the most intense, racking, orgasm she had ever had. He climbed up the bed next to her, still fully dressed. He undid his pants and lowered them just enough so that he could enter her quickly and effortlessly. He rocked his hips against hers, her hands on his back, guiding him harder, deeper. Who was he to go against her wishes?

After the final after wave traveled the length of her body, he also found his release, and it was better than he had imagine, and he had imagined it so many years, so many times, and in so many ways. He brought her against his hard chest and stroked her hair. She still had on her shoes, so she kicked them off. He was still fully dressed. He kissed the top of her head as she floated in the waves of her desire. She leaned her cheek against his chest, the feel of his shirt soft on her face, and as he stroked her back up and down with his hand, she went to sleep.

Draco didn't care. There was still plenty of time for them to seek additional pleasure and after all, this was what he had dreamt of all along. Not of his own gratification, but hers, and what he might do for her. This was his dream come true. All he thought was, she had better not mess it up.