A/N - Fair warning, a little juice left in the lemon here right off the top.
Hermione wakes, delightfully spent, feeling the weight of Draco pushed against her own body, having taken the "little spoon" position sometime in the night. She smiles, remembering their first night together, still aching a little from her exertion. She snuggles into his frame with a contented sigh and wriggles her arse lightly against him.
"Don't start things you can't finish."
She hadn't known he would be awake, but feeling his length pressed against her bum, neither is she surprised.
She smiles, eyes still closed. "What makes you think I can't finish it?"
He chuckles softly into her hair then pulls her over onto her back. He has propped himself up on one elbow and looks down at her as she reaches up to trail her fingers across the cool skin of his shoulder, following the line down his arm.
She stops when she reaches his forearm and sees the faded ghost of a skull set as contrast to his alabaster skin. Immediately she jerks back and looks back at him, searching his eyes.
He looks intently at her face, frowning in confusion but she sees his eyes flicker to his own arm. He knows why she flinched. "Are you ok? It's… it's ugly, I know."
"I just forget that…" She stops, mesmerized by those familiar silver eyes and everything else falls away.
"Nothing. It's nothing. And good morning by the way." She reaches a hand to his face and pulls him down into her, immediately transforming the kiss into one of hunger, nibbling his lip and arching her back as she pulls him down.
She'd felt him hesitate at first then he answered her kiss in kind, tongue tasting her, breathing hot and fast against her and pushing her hard, down into the soft bedding.
He moves over her, positioning himself between her already bare thighs and enters her with no preamble, no hesitation. She is already so keyed, ready for him, there is little resistance and they both groan, breaking the kiss. "Merlin. Granger. So. Wet." Each word punctuated by a thrust.
Draco buries his face into her neck, uttering moans and growls that vibrates against her skin. She arches her back, tilting her head up and clawing his back in response.
When she feels the heat build, pooling with desperate tension, she digs her nails into his shoulders and bucks her own hips harder in response. She begs him with senseless pleas. "Don't stop. Gods, please, Draco, don't… stop."
As if he would.
When she reaches her crescendo she feels him tumble down after her, her body milking him. They collapse together, unmoving, as their shuddering subsides.
When they disentangle, Draco looks at her with what she would describe as concern at best but then says nothing. Instead he places an impossibly sweet kiss on her forehead and rises from the bed.
"Where are you going?" She can't hide the slight edge to her voice, worried by his solemn behavior after such an earth shattering climax.
"Shower." Then he smiles and she can't help but return it with her own. "Do you have plans today?" He asks as he picks up his shirt and boxers from the floor and pads, naked across the room.
He's bloody delicious.
"I hope so." She answers, trying her best to sound coy, confident, and alluring when in truth she could puddle into liquid watching the muscles in his back flex as he moves. His lithe frame and confident gait nearly render her speechless but she tries to recover. "As far as I'm concerned you can come right back here after that shower and we can spend the day getting you dirty again. And again."
He actually pauses his exit and looks back with his most delectable smirk. "Be careful, Granger, or you'll never be rid of me."
When he walks into his ensuite and closes the door with a wink, Hermione flops back onto the bed and puffs out a suspended exhale.
XXXXX
Draco stares at himself in the mirror for longer than he was actually in the shower, hoping she doesn't question why he's been away so long. The largest part of his mind and body wants nothing more than to return to his witch and take her up on her invitation. He could spend the entire day living from this room. Shag, shower, eat… rinse, repeat.
But he is staring now, trying to shake that feeling that over-takes him when her eyes flash and she moves from fear and sorrow far too quickly to being brilliantly sunny or worse, obtuse.
He steels himself to return to her and perhaps even brooch the subject of her odd shifts. After over a month together he always managed to hide his mark, not wanting any reminders of who he used to be; of how he used to treat her. Being with her for the first time, naked in both mind and body, he was ready to reveal everything. To give her everything of himself.
For a terrifying moment, he thought she would push him away. Draco still has trouble some days, not believing her absolution of him. Perhaps he should just ask if she wants to discuss it? To air any grievances. He opens the door to re-enter his bedroom and opens his mouth to speak.
At the sight of her, however, looking at him with a mixture of sweet affection and cat-who-got-the-cream satisfaction, he stows any concerns in the back of his mind for future reference.
"As much as I love the idea of ravaging you all day, and believe me when I say I'm going to try for at least one more go, let's get some breakfast." He holds out her hand to help her rise.
She takes it with a demure smile before dragging him down beside her and scrambling to straddle his waist.
"One more go first. Then breakfast."
He grins, placing his hands on her hips and running them down her velvet thighs.
"I find I have trouble denying you anything."
Even as he says it, he is struck that he's never spoken words more true.
XXXXXX
"Do you think you and Harry would ever agree to meet him? I mean meet him again, I guess. Meet with him…But with me… like a double date?" She has been a little nervous to ask this of her friend, if anyone couldn't tell. But after months with her beau, and especially after their relationship became intimate a few weeks ago, she knows he is going to be a feature in her life for at least some time.
Ginny Potter is cradling a small glass of red wine like a dying man nurturing a last meal. Once the second trimester began, her healer had allowed that she could have wine in very conservative amounts. Ginny has exactly one glass of red wine per week. Usually on Saturday night. And she nurses each glass for up to a full hour.
"'Mione, of course we would," she offers kindly. "You've been seeing him for what? A couple of months now?"
It was rhetorical but Hermione can't help but answer, a little giddy, "10 weeks… not that I'm counting." She rolls her eyes at herself but her smile is broad.
"10 weeks then. And I'm not about to judge anyone for counting weeks in my condition." She laughs a little at that and tips her wine in reference. "Anyway my point was, I think it's safe to assume it's a little serious at least. Just name the date and we'll be there." She takes another reverent sip and closes her eyes in ecstasy. "I can't wait to not be pregnant."
"I thought it was going great. No morning sickness and all that."
"Well it was. Then my body decided I should have heartburn for daring to consume anything. I think water is included in "anything"."
"Maybe red wine, then, not the best choice." She laughs a little but Ginny just frowns.
"It won't matter. I'd still have to deal with it regardless and I wouldn't get to enjoy my wine." She shrugs and takes another slow sip. "So when do you want to do this? With Malfoy?"
Hermione considers for a moment. "Next weekend?"
"Well," Ginny hesitates and looks away, "I'm not sure next weekend works for Harry."
"Ron?" She could tell by the guilty look on her friend's face.
"Yeah, sorry, it's a quidditch thing. They have tickets to see the Harpys."
"It's ok." And she smiles like she absolutely believes it. "You're not going with them?"
"Watching other people on a broom while I can't makes me angry. The boys said I should stay home." She laughs in spite of herself. "But Harry promised next year, I get season tickets."
"Another weekend then? I'll look at my calendar and owl you."
"Sure. Sounds great."
There is a short pause, only slightly awkward, when Ginny's curiosity gets the best of her and she asks a question she has been wondering. "So have you met his Mother yet? I mean since you've reconnected."
Hermione shakes her head "no". "He doesn't seem to want me to. I mean, it's not like I've not already met her. Not that she liked me much back then. She didn't really like anyone except Draco's friends. But really that was so long ago I barely remember. Surely she will be nice if I'm with her son."
Ginny looks like she almost wants to contest the point but snaps her mouth shut instead. "You'll have to speak to her eventually. I mean, if you keep seeing each other."
"Heh, you tell him that then. He doesn't seem to agree when I say it." She smiles sardonically.
"Don't think I won't. If I see him before you see her I absolutely will."
The friends finish their light dinner and Ginny takes her final sip of wine, tilting the glass straight up and waiting a full 20 seconds for any last drop to make its way down the glass.
"When this is over, when I'm done growing a person, you and I are going to make up for my lost time. Start counting, the cosmos owes me a bottle of wine per week."
Hermione laughs and follows her friend out of the restaurant, never noticing the redhead seated three tables away, glaring at their vacated table in thought.
XXXXXXX
"Mother, what are you doing home?" Draco maintains his cool demeanor but inside he is frantic. He has invited Hermione to join him for tea before they take in a muggle theater production. Narcissa was to have been indisposed, hosting a charity luncheon.
"Oh Draco, I didn't know you were home. My luncheon was really just an obligation to make an appearance. It is more a Parkinson function."
"That is not the impression I was given when you mentioned it yesterday." It's all he can do not to grit his teeth. "I believe your words were "I've an engagement that should have me out most of the day."
She continues fussing with a vase of fresh flowers as though oblivious to his aggravation. "Who can remember exactly what one said regarding such trivial matters? Why dear? Do you have plans today with which I might interfere?"
There it is. The sneaky she-snake. She somehow knew Granger would be here this afternoon. He has successfully avoided introducing the two witches in his life for many weeks and was enjoying the virtual calm in his life.
Draco lies as easily as breathes, wears deception like a comfortable old coat, can charm and convince and persuade nearly any witch or wizard to his whims. Except his mother.
He takes a breath and marches on into his undoing. "I had invited a lady friend to tea this afternoon and had simply hoped for a quiet and intimate setting."
"Oh yes? The witch you have been seeing? Well I certainly won't intrude on your privacy. I'll just introduce myself as the current lady of the house, as is proper of course, and then leave you two to enjoy each other's company." He smile is sweet, tone saccharine, but Narcissa is every bit as incapable of deception to her son as he is to her. Perhaps because she doesn't actually try that hard, daring him to confront her and knowing he will not.
"Well then, Mother, I suppose I may as well tell you that you are acquainted already."
"I thought you mentioned she doesn't move in our social circles?"
With just a hint a sarcasm, "Yes, well who can remember exactly what was said about trivial things."
"Watch the cheek, young man."
"Apologies. But regardless she doesn't move in our circles. You met her years ago, when we attended Hogwarts together."
"She was not in Slytherin then I wager? Gods, Draco, she isn't a Hufflepuff is she?"
They stare at each other a moment when they hear the floo.
Fifteen minutes early.
Of course she is. Bleeding Gryffindor. He could nearly roll his eyes.
"Draco? The floo was open. Are you here?"
"No, Mother, not a Hufflepuff, it's-"
The young witch turns the corner into the room and Narcissa, eyes wide, finishes for her son.
"Hermione Granger."