A/N: Only one more chapter to go after this!
When he slid into his normal compartment on the train, Blaise was waiting for him with a huge grin. Draco scowled at him.
"Well, hello." He gestured to the bench across from him for Draco to sit. Reluctantly, he did. "Did she ever find you last night?"
Draco looked up at him and straightened his robes. "Yes. We clarified for each other that neither one of us wanted to have a threesome with you."
Blaise smirked. "I'll try not to be too offended by that—"
"The fuck is your problem, Blaise?" Draco snapped.
Blaise lifted a slow brow. "My problem," he said, "is that I've had to spend the last few years watching you deny your crush on Hermione Granger—"
"I don't have a crush on Hermione Granger!"
"—And I guess the denial phase isn't over."
"I mean…" Draco sputtered. "I do now. But not before. Not… Years, you claim? No."
Blaise sent him a dead look. Very bored with the conversation.
"Definitely… not." Draco finished.
Blaise rolled his eyes and said, "I'm just commenting on what I've observed. And if you weren't going to end the idiocy, it was time for me to step in."
"Well, thanks for trying to fuck her in front of me. That really helped," Draco hissed.
"I'm sure it did." Blaise smirked.
Draco pouted the whole way home.
He held out for two days before finally breaking and writing to her.
I hope your holidays are going well. I missed you at the platform—
He crumpled the parchment and tossed it over his shoulder.
I dreamt of you last night. You were sucking me off in the kitchens of Malfoy Manor. The house elves were making my favorite dish and—
He tossed that away, shaking his head at how strange that dream had truly been. Best not to be shared.
After a few more tries he landed on:
I was sorry to have missed you Saturday morning, but just know I'm thinking of you.
Every day.
He included the beginning of another Shakespeare sonnet.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate
Narcissa wanted to talk about what he planned to do after leaving school. Draco had very little interest in anything besides getting back to Hogwarts.
"I'm sure Professor Slughorn would be honored to write you a recommendation for the potion-making program in the states if you want to get out of Great Britain for a while." Narcissa sipped her wine and watched her son carefully over the glass. "You could get in on the ground floor of the Ministry as well."
"Yes, I'll think about it." He flipped through the post for a third time.
The morning of Christmas eve. And Draco had to restrain himself from writing her again. Maybe the owl had gotten lost? Maybe she was ill and not receiving any letters?
Maybe she didn't like how intimate their last time had been. It had been… perfect in his eyes. But for her, maybe she preferred the experiments with their differing positions, and their dirty talk, and their roleplay.
"Draco," his mother said, disturbing his thoughts. "You have a letter."
He jumped and snatched the letter from his mother, recognizing neat handwriting, and rushed from the room, searching for privacy.
He ripped the seal off the envelope and pulled the single page out with shaking fingers.
Draco,
I'm sorry I missed you at breakfast on Saturday. I hope you're having a lovely holiday at home.
Happy Christmas.
She hadn't signed it. Which was smart.
But she hadn't explained herself.
And she hadn't said whether she was thinking of him too.
On the train back, he sat stewing while Blaise and Mullally played Exploding Snap.
"Oi, Draco. Whaddya get Granger for Christmas?" Marquez asked after the smoke cleared from his latest play.
Draco stared out the window. "Nothing. We didn't do presents," he said flatly. "We're not exclusive."
"Oh, bloody hell!" Blaise moaned.
A few hours later, the train rumbled to a stop. Blaise and Moffat jumped up, grabbing their trunks and pushing out the door. Draco dragged himself to his feet, and followed. He was the last one off the train, and as he stepped down onto the platform, there she was.
She stood, shifting from one foot to the other, twisting the sleeve of her jumper. Waiting for him.
"Hi," he said dumbly.
"Hello." She smiled quickly, looking over his shoulder at the train.
He lugged his trunk off the train, and brushed his hair back, stepping closer to her. He watched her fingers pull at the threads at her sleeve, and even though she hadn't written him back, hadn't said goodbye to him, he still wanted to kiss her.
He stepped in to do just that when she spoke.
"How was your holiday?"
He stared at her like she was speaking Chinese. "Er, great. Thanks. And yours? Did Weasley and Potter spend Christmas with you."
She swallowed. "Yes. Yes, it was good to see them."
He nodded, and watched the wind whirl her hair around.
"I have good news." She swallowed. "It happened."
He stared at her, searching her face. "What? What happened?'
"It... my..." she stuttered. She took a deep breath, and stood tall, fingers dropping from her sleeve. "An orgasm. I had one," she said, and his heart stopped. "So, you—"
"With who?!" He cut her off and stepped closer.
She jumped, and he scowled at her, feeling like his ribs were breaking off one by one.
"With... with..." she sputtered, "myself. By myself." She blushed and looked away again. "I, um… I was alone and I just… It happened." She looked back at him.
She'd had an orgasm. She'd done the impossible. Without him.
Draco smiled weakly. "Congratulations, Granger." He watched her eyes blink rapidly at him, dropping to his lips, and felt something twisting in his gut, something dark worry. "How was it?"
"Great," she said quickly. "Really, really fantastic." She pulled her lip between her teeth and wrapped her arms around herself in the winter chill.
"You got over the wall?"
She looked at him and said, "No wall, actually. It wasn't even an issue."
"That's wonderful, Granger."
He stepped closer to her and pressed a kiss to her cold cheek. He shrugged off his coat and twisted it around to drape across her shoulders. She watched him, eyes growing bright, and he pulled the lapels together, brushing his thumbs across her jaw.
She took a quick breath.
"Right," she said. "So, you… Er, we don't have to… experiment anymore."
The wind whipped at his skin, sending icy shivers through his veins.
"Mission accomplished," she said, adding a shaky laugh.
He watched her breath mist in the air between them, the dark anxiety spreading across his chest like tar.
"Right."
Maybe she meant the experiments were over. Surely the two of them had more than the experiments tying them together by now.
"You can feel free to go back to… whatever you were focusing on before you decided to help a damsel in distress." She smiled, and then it slid off of her.
"Right."
She turned to look over her shoulder and said, "We better catch the last carriage before it leaves us behind." She nodded her head at the Thestral-drawn carriages and stepped back, leading the way.
He trudged behind her, watching his boots land in the snow. She hopped up into the carriage and he stared at her, drowning in his coat.
To be that close to her and not be allowed to touch her.
"I… I'm going to walk actually," he said. "Been sitting on the train for so long…"
Staring down at him, brows furrowing, she said, "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm sure."
He wasn't positive he could sit next to her like they were… friends? Exes?
"Here, take your coat, Draco." She pulled it off and he stopped her.
"No, no. It's cold. Keep it and I'll get it from you… tomorrow or something."
Her eye twitched, like tomorrow was out of the question.
"No. Here." She tossed the coat at him, the only reason he would have to see her again after this, and the Thestral yanked the carriage back, winding her away.
He walked back to the castle, following the hoof prints, coat tucked under his arm, hearing an echo in his head.
I only want to be with you.
It took nearly a week for him to gather the courage to approach her again. He saw her in the corridors, at meals, and in classes, but she kept her head down, looking at her book or her notes, and avoided him like Bubotuber pus.
On Friday evening, he headed to the library, knowing no one would likely be there. There were a few "welcome back" parties he'd been invited to that evening, but he'd declined, feeling like she would have as well.
A few Ravenclaws to the left. A few introverts in the corner. And one curly-haired sex kitten tucked into the back. A simple jumper and jeans.
His palms began to sweat. She had her quill between her teeth, flipping through the pages of a heavy 1000-word volume, standing near the shelf looking displeased with the Hogwarts library's selection.
"Hey," he said. Fuck. So dumb.
She spun to face him, eyes wide. She closed the book and pulled the quill from her teeth, ink smudging the corner of her mouth.
"Hi."
His eyes dropped to the stain on her lips and he gestured, stammering, "You have… the quill left ink."
"Oh." She blushed scarlet and rubbed at the wrong side of her mouth.
"Here." He pulled his handkerchief and stepped in to her, testing the unspoken boundaries she'd set when he returned to school. Her eyes watched him carefully as he dragged the cloth over her mouth, fingers resting lightly on her jaw.
When he was done, she looked down at the handkerchief to see his initials monogrammed into the corner. "Of course you have a monogrammed handkerchief." She rolled her eyes.
"You don't have one?" He teased.
"Do I have a linen handkerchief with your initials woven into the sides? No." She smiled.
"Now you do." He tucked the handkerchief into the pocket of her jeans and smirked at her.
Something deep darkened her eyes, and she let her gaze wander over his face, resting on his lips. She jumped.
"I can't," she said, drawing a shaky breath. "I can't take this." She tried to hand it back to him.
"I have hundreds more, Granger."
"Hundreds?" She raised a skeptical brow.
"You're right. Probably thousands," he said smiling. She scoffed.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted to her other foot. "Did you need something?"
He swallowed and started, "Er… Well, you know…" He looked up at her, adopting a playful tone. "You and I spent quite a few weeks working together, as scientific partners." He gestured between them. "And I was wondering if you wanted to discuss further your findings. For academic purposes, of course."
She looked back and forth between his eyes, and he watched her swallow.
"For academic purposes," she repeated.
"Right." He pushed his hand through his hair. "I was so curious about your… about what was going on with you, and you've now figured it out—and that's great—but maybe… if you wanted to… we could discuss… the successful experiment."
She blinked at him, and bit her lip. "What do you want to know?"
He gestured to the table near them, pulling out a chair for her. She moved slowly, landing on the edge of the seat, sitting straight as a rod. He sat next to her, pulling his chair close so their knees were touching. He pulled out the parchment they'd made over a month ago with her list of positions and her idea of a fantasy man. He grabbed her quill that had stained her mouth and sat studiously primed.
"You said you were alone? Were you in bed? In the shower?"
She looked down at the parchment. "You're going to write this down?"
He looked at their parchment. "Well, yeah."
She stared, and then crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Er, yes. I was alone. I was in bed."
"Your bed?"
"What?"
"You were in your bed? Or another bed?"
"What does that mean?" She glared at him.
"I meant the Room of Requirement," he said, watching her face burn pink. He found it strange how riled up that had her.
"No," she said, dropping back in the chair a bit. "My bed. In my dormitory."
"And you've masturbated there before?"
"Of course."
"And what was different this time?"
A pause. He looked up from the parchment and found her watching him. She looked away.
"I… I guess," she said. She looked down at the library carpets and swallowed. "Nothing was different. It didn't come down to a different pressure or a different stroke. No new toys. Same position..." She stared off. "Nothing different."
He made a small note of the very useless information she'd given him.
He dotted his "i" and looked up at her. "What were you thinking about? Any new fantasy? Any new person?" He swallowed before he choked on the words.
Her eyes raked over his face, and then her head snapped away. "Nothing. Nothing different."
He shifted closer, knee bumping hers and she jumped, pulling her leg away. He frowned and said, "I feel like you're not telling me something."
She looked at him, and guilt was scribbled all over her face, like the ink had spread.
"I'm not lying."
He blinked, jaw opening. "I… didn't say you were. I said you're holding something back." She chewed on her lip, and he said, "If you're embarrassed, don't be. Even if you have a strange new fantasy that gets you off, it's still getting you off—"
"I don't have a strange new fantasy, thank you very much—"
"I'm not saying you do—"
"Then what are you saying—"
"That you know exactly how you had an orgasm and you won't tell me!"
The words rang through the stacks, and her glare darkened on him.
"Who says you have a right to know? It's my body, Draco."
His mouth opened and closed, and he fought the impulse to let the irrational thoughts pour out of him, like Well, I spent probably a cumulative twelve hours going down on you for the past month, so I'd say I deserve something. Or – I thought we were partners in this. Or – You won't ever let me experience it, so the least you could do is talk to me about it.
He looked down at his lap, eyes drifting to her knee, so close to him.
She spoke again, quieter. "Why do you want to know this? Why are you writing this down and asking me questions?" Her voice cracked, and he looked up to see her eyes wet.
"Because I was supposed to be there," he murmured.
She nodded, looking down at the desk. She took a deep breath. "I was thinking… I was thinking about how wonderful it felt. How good it was."
He put the quill down and asked, "And the wall wasn't there, you said?"
"Didn't even think about it."
"Good," he said, and smiled. "And what did it feel like? The wave without a wall there?"
"Brilliant." She smiled. "Like crashing… or maybe it's electricity. Or fire. It was small. But that was definitely it."
He watched her lips, loving the smile in the corner of her mouth. "And the next time? Was it small then too?"
She met his eyes. "Next time?"
"Yes, the next time you came?" he asked, turning towards her fully, showing her he was forgetting the parchment.
She blinked at him, and looked down. "I… No, it wasn't like that."
He frowned. "How was it—"
"I haven't been able to come again."
His eyes flew wide open. "What? Why not?"
She blushed and looked over his shoulder. "I don't know."
"You need to—" He stopped himself, and scratched his jaw. "You should try again. Maybe recreate it or—"
"I have been trying." She sighed. "Been trying stupid things."
His lips formed silent words for a few seconds before he finally found what he wanted to say.
"If you ever need a partner again, Granger, I'm available." He looked down as he felt her eyes on him. "I enjoy having sex with you, even when we're not actively trying to make you orgasm. Though I very much like trying to make you orgasm." He pushed at the cuticle at his thumb. "So, if you want to get together again, all you need to do is ask."
He pressed his lips together and listened to the silence. That's all he really came here to say. Try to get her to tell him a bit about her climax and then offer himself to her whenever she felt randy.
He had just decided to roll the parchment up and walk away when her hand pressed on his knee. He looked up to see what she wanted to say to him, finding her face a breath away from him. She looked down to his lips, leaning towards him, and kissed him.
The smell of her this close to him again. The pressure of her lips. He let her keep it slow and sweet, and just placed his fingertips along her cheek. She pulled back for a moment, looking in his eyes, and then over his shoulder quickly, before moving both of her hands to his shoulders and climbing into his lap, legs on either side of him.
She pressed against his lips again before he could voice anything, and she opened his mouth and tasted him. She moaned.
He didn't want to press his luck. She'd said they were done. She'd said he was released, and here she was reeling him back in. He brought his hands to her hips, sitting low on his thighs instead of pressed up against his groin. The denim of her jeans against his school trousers scratching soft sounds.
He gasped when she nipped at his tongue, and she pulled him closer, arms wrapping around his shoulders, one hand pushing through his hair. Her chest brushed against his, and he shivered.
"Draco," she whispered. "Touch me."
He slid his hands around her hips, intending to glide up her back, keeping a safe distance, but then she groaned into his mouth. And he grabbed her backside, denim pulling tight. No room to press her flesh but he squeezed harder and she rolled her hips.
She tugged at his tie until she could pull his shirt buttons apart, dipping her head to kiss at his neck and his Adam's apple. Her mouth was hot and perfect, and he could probably live like this forever. If this was all she wanted to give him, he could live here.
Halfway down his chest with unbuttoning, she kissed his ear, and said, "Please."
He pulled her up to meet his hips, fingers digging into her as she gasped and pressed up against him. He trailed his hands up her torso, pressing between them to cup her breasts, over her jumper. She smiled against his jaw and pressed hot kisses back toward his mouth. He rubbed his thumbs over her breasts, focusing where he felt her nipples harden and poke through.
She let out a small sound and reattached to his lips, pressing her tongue against his, and rolling her hips.
His cock was starting to respond, even though he told it to calm down. We are taking what she gives us today.
But what she was giving them…
Her tongue was obscene. Her hands tugged his head back so she could delve into his mouth, and she dragged her tongue through him like she was parched.
He moved small circles around her nipples and he felt her shiver and moan into him. His hands trailed down and under her jumper, spreading across her stomach, dancing over her skin, and she shifted, pressing higher on his hips so she was right on his cock. He choked, and she started a quick thrusting against him, pressing the seam of her jeans between them.
"Yes…" she hissed against his lips. He was gasping for air before she kissed him again.
She was possessed, rutting against him like they weren't in an open corner of the library. He didn't want to remind her. Didn't want her to come to her senses. Didn't want her to stop this delicious pressure.
His hips jumped against hers and she laughed, gasping for air. He slid his hands up, finding her bra and her beautiful tits. He flicked and plucked and rubbed and she breathed into his mouth, hissing curse words against him.
Her hands dropped, suddenly at his belt. He froze as she ripped his belt open and unbuttoned him, unsure what she wanted to do while she was in jeans.
She dove into his trousers and maneuvered until he was hard in her hand, stroking up and down between them.
In the middle of the library.
"Fuck," he moaned into her neck. "Missed you."
She kissed his ear. He heard fumbling and looked down at where her hand squeezed him to find her other hand opening her jeans. She pressed a shaky hand between them, somehow finding space to dip into her jeans and touch herself.
"Granger," he wheezed. "I can—"
"Just don't stop touching me, Draco. Please don't stop."
He kissed her neck, and filled his hands with her breasts. She dropped her head on his shoulder, and managed to pull at his cock with an expert hand while rubbing herself.
"Dreamed of you," he whispered. "Dreamed of this."
"Don't stop."
He twisted her nipples and she jerked against him, squeezing him tight in her hand before continuing to stroke him, continuing to swirl her clit.
"Wanted you every day. No one, but you. Fuck."
She shivered. And went still. He looked up at her. Was it…?
She swallowed, and closed her eyes, shaking her head "no."
He pulled her bra cups down, and moaned when he felt the skin of her breasts again for the first time in weeks.
"Want to taste you again. Want your tits in my mouth."
She pumped him faster, twisting her hand at the end. She kissed his forehead, and he could feel his thighs shaking.
She had two hands on him now, one pumping him from the base and the other dancing softly around the head, thumb rubbing at the sensitive spots that she used her tongue on.
"Oh Merlin, Granger."
His thumbs flicked at her nipples, fingers pulling them, rolling them. He could hear her breath at his ear.
"I could spend forever here," he moaned against her neck. "Want you forever. Only you."
He moved to kiss her lips again, and she twisted away, turning to suck at his neck, pressing bruises into his skin and using her tongue perfectly.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hips started jumping. Her two hands stroking him, pulling at him, her tits in his hands.
Two hands?
He pulled back and looked down. She wasn't touching herself any longer.
"What happened?" he wheezed. "Your wall?"
She paused, then nodded in his shoulder.
He gasped when she twisted her hand so she could roll his balls between her fingers.
"Granger, stop. We can—"
"It's okay. Let's just finish," she choked out. She pushed her lips against his before he could argue, and her cheeks were wet.
"Don't—" He pulled his face from her, taking in the two tear tracks running down her face. He brought his hands down to her hips. "What's wrong? Don't continue if—"
"I want you to come, Draco," she whispered. She rolled his balls, squeezing just right, and he couldn't communicate to his cock any more when she looked behind him and quickly reached up to pull her jumper over her head, baring her chest to the library, bra cups tucked under her breasts.
Her hands returned to his cock, as she turned her dark eyes on him, pressing her tits together and pushing them toward his face. He groaned, forgetting what it was they were talking about.
She licked her palm, dragging it over her breast before pumping his cock again, both hands working him. His palms were sweating on her hips, as he watched her breasts rock with the rhythm of her arms. His stomach tightened, eyes glued to her tits. Those perfect tits he hadn't seen for weeks.
He leaned forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth, hips jerking under her as she moved faster on him, lifting her other hand to thread through his hair, keeping him pressed to her chest.
Her fist squeezed him, and he started mumbling against her breast, words falling against her skin.
"Please let me be inside of you again. Please, Hermione. Want to fuck you into a mattress and feel your mouth on me again. Want to taste your cunt. Want to live there for hours. I need to feel you. I need—ah! I need to feel you come around me. Need it. Please, Hermione."
She gripped his hair, twisted her fist around his cock, and said, "Okay."
And he came against her stomach, over her hand. He must have yelled, because her mouth was on his, swallowing his moans and his shaking breath.
He couldn't breathe, black spots dancing in his eyes. When she pulled away, breath hot on his lips, he wheezed against her, and looked down to memorize the image of her like this. Topless and straddling him in the library, her hand still tugging lazily at his cock, the mess between them.
I love you.
He almost said it.
She agreed to meet him the next night at the Room of Requirement after dinner.
He didn't bring any toys. Didn't make any plans. He just showed up.
She was already there. Watching the fire in the fireplace, sitting on their couches, leaning forward on her knees while the light danced on her face.
She didn't notice him come in, her mind working. So, he watched her.
He loved her. For a little while now. In the Astronomy Tower. While cuffed to the bedposts.
Probably from the moment she first put her mouth on him, which was so incredibly male that he rolled his eyes at himself.
He cleared his throat, and she jumped, turning to look at him. She stood from the couch, and he was surprised to see her in a dress. A knee-length cotton thing with short sleeves and a small waist.
He didn't know the names for any of it, but it looked…
It looked like a date dress.
"Hi," she said.
He swallowed. He was just in a lousy jumper. Something he anticipated taking off, so he hadn't thought…
"You look nice." Lame. Do better, Draco.
She blushed, the color rising to her eyes where he thought he found a bit of makeup. "Thank you. So do you."
He stood there, staring at her. The fire backlighting her curls and her long legs.
And something made him ask, "Are you hungry?" You were supposed to feed them on dates, yes?
She blinked at him. "Hungry? Er, no. I just ate dinner. You were there," she teased.
"Right. Yes." He ran his hand through his hair. "How are your classes so far?"
He still stood in the doorway, half a room between them.
"Fine," she said. She looked down, and he could just make out a small frown on her lips. Her arms crossed in front of her. He was making her uncomfortable by just standing there, so far away. Self-conscious about her dress.
"Sorry," he said, and crossed the room. "You're too pretty. I had to stare at you for a moment."
She blinked up at him, and he placed his hand on her face, pulling her to him, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. Her hand steadied herself on his chest.
He tilted his head, kissing her again, and she opened her mouth to him, her fingers curling in his jumper. He teased her tongue, barely stroking her, focusing on her lips.
Moving his hands down to her waist, sliding around her back, he pulled her closer, holding her tight to him.
He pressed her close and lifted her, toes grazing the ground, and walked her back to the bed. She gasped and giggled, and his chest warmed.
She dropped on the edge of the bed, bouncing and smiling up at him. He knelt in front of her and she brought her hands to his shoulders while he pulled off her shoes, hands lingering on the back of her knees. Her eyes darkened and she brushed his hair back.
He could see the makeup now. Something silly on her eyes to make her lashes long and black. Something she didn't need. Some light color on her lips making them look pink and delectable. Things he already knew.
And a silly little dress. Probably with some very silly lingerie.
None of which she had on at dinner.
All for him.
She sat on the edge of a large bed, looking down at his lips, her fingers resting on his jaw. And something in her eyes was anxious.
She took a breath.
"I have something to tell you—"
"I love you," he said. Whispering out of him like a summer breeze.
Her lips formed silent words, struggling to respond. Her eyes grew wide, blinking largely at him.
"Fuck, I'm sorry." He dropped his head, speaking into her lap. "I shouldn't have—"
And then she was pulling his face up to her, pressing kisses against him, tugging his hair. He pulled her waist closer, standing and moving her up the bed, crawling on top of her until her legs opened for him to slide between.
She tore at his jumper, dragging it up until he sat back and pulled it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. He looked down at her, panting on the bed, already reaching for his belt.
She was glad. She wanted him to love her.
He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed near her face, slithering down to kiss at her neck as her fingers laced with his.
"I love this dress," he hummed into her skin. She brought her leg up to hug his hips. "Will I love what's underneath it as much?"
She chuckled, breathing heavy on his ear and whispered, "Maybe. It's a pretty great dress."
He smiled into her neck and dropped his hips to hers. He kissed down her collarbone, down her chest to the top of her breasts. She squirmed under him, pushing against his hands.
He alternated between kissing each breast, trailing paths across her chest each time.
"Miss your skin," he mumbled. He kissed down her chest, over the cotton, lower and lower until he had to let go of her hands. They moved directly to his hair as he slid her dress up her thighs, revealing pale pink lace knickers. He stared down at her hips until she started pressing her thighs together.
He dropped off the edge of the bed, dragged her hips down to him and kissed her over the lace. She sighed.
He ran his tongue over her, pressing the material against her until it was soaking wet, concentrating on her clit. He opened her wider, pressing down on her thighs and pulling the lace to the side. She groaned, pressing her hands against her face as he lapped at her, sweeping through her folds and pressing down on her clit with each stroke.
"Missed you," he whispered to her cunt. And she laughed.
He dragged two fingers through her, circling her, swirling, and pressed inside. She trembled and tried to close her thighs but he held her open. He hips jumped when he dropped his mouth back to her, fingers pumping slowly.
Her hands dragged through his hair, and he paused, looking up at her. "I want… I want to be inside of you if you come. Is that okay?"
She nodded vigorously, and sat up, peeling her dress off over her shoulders. Matching pale pink lace bra. He leaned forward and kissed her breast, sucking her nipple through the lace. She gasped and held him close, letting him move to the other one before reaching down for his trousers again.
He helped her take them off, shimmied down her knickers, and peeled her bra off her shoulders once she'd unfastened it.
She scooted back on the bed, hair flying everywhere when she lay down. Draco crawled over her, kissing her, and running his hands wherever he could find. She stroked him a few times, and pressed him to her entrance. He looked down at her and held her eyes when he pressed inside, feeling her heat hold him like velvet. She brushed his hair out of his eyes and watched his face as he started to move.
She felt just like he remembered. Tight in all the right places. Skin slick. Eyes dark and haunting. And it was okay that he loved her. He'd said it, and she still wanted him.
He dropped his head against her shoulder, kissing at her neck as he pressed their bodies together, pumping his hips into her. Her legs wrapped around him, her hands running down his back.
"Love you," he hissed into her throat. "Love this." He sucked at her, listening to her breath catch. "Thought of you every day, like I said I would." He felt her walls squeeze him, and he gasped, babbling on. "Love your skin, and your little dress." Her hips jumping to meet him. "Fuck, never wanna be without you." Her nails scraped down his back, and he reached between them, circling her clit, and pressing his lips against her ear. "You'll be the death of me."
"Draco—" She moaned a choked sound.
"I'll make love to you every day," he wheezed, feeling her trembled beneath him. "No one else. I only want to be with you."
A sob next to his ear, and he pulled back to watch her—watch her tear at the seams for him.
But there were tears down her cheeks, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He felt ice in his veins.
"What's wrong?" His hips stopped. His hands moved to her face. "Are you hurt?"
"I can't—" She gasped. "I can't—"
He watched in horror as she cried, pressing her eyes closed, batting his hands away and turning on her side when he slipped out of her.
"Are you… Hermione, what's wrong?" he said to her back.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she gasped. He pressed his hand on her ribs, begging her to breathe. "I love you," she whimpered. "I love you so much."
He stared down at her, not trusting his ears. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.
"Granger, it's okay—"
"It's Ron…"
He frowned. Thinking about her ex was hardly the response he wanted right now. She was shaking. Afraid.
"Right," he said. "Right. There's a lot of pain from when you two were together. From the things he said to you—"
"No," she wheezed, ribs going still. "I was with Ron. When he was here for Christmas."