Previously on PS:
Hermione pushed her way through the crowds, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his back.
"Draco," she said, getting his attention, and the blonde turned around, looking immediately alarmed at the distressed look about his wife.
"Hermione... what happened, are you..." he began, ignoring Montanya completely and fussing over Hermione. She shook her head and cut him off.
"I want to go home," she admitted, eyes trained on his shiny black shoes, and Draco nodded, frowning.
"Alright... okay, whatever you want..." he said softly, as if speaking to a child. Normally, Hermione would have scolded him, but any sympathy she could get right now was good sympathy. "Let's just have Mum call the chauffeur, hm?" With no other apparent choice, Hermione nodded and allowed Draco to put an arm around her and lead her to wherever Narcissa was standing. As they started away, Hermione turned to view the table she had moments ago been seated at. Harry and Ron were gone, but the candle stood lit and upright.
~*~
CHAPTER TEN: Homecoming
After a quite tough time convincing Narcissa that Hermione's tears were because she was so happy, Draco was able to free her from the party and lead his wife to their waiting car. The chauffer was already sitting prim and proper in the front seat, as if it was his one and only ambition to drive them home. Truth be told, had Harry and Ron not showed up, the new Malfoy's wouldn't have left for nearly another hour... and it could be assumed he would have looked exactly the same had they waited.
Draco seemed genuinely concerned about Hermione, but she didn't look as if she wanted his condolence. Not once did she sob, but silent black tears continuously rolled down her trembling chin. She allowed Draco to lead her to their car, then open and shut her door, but, once he entered the other side, she paid him no attention. Hermione spent the entire hour and a half ride with her head pressed to the window and eyes shut tightly. She curled up as much as possible and ignored Draco, although she was sure he was watching her.
Interestingly, Hermione did not fall asleep on the way to their new home, nor did she wait for Draco to open her door. The second the car stopped she jumped out and started toward the front door without a second thought. Draco, without tipping the driver as he would normally have, bounded up the cobblestone path after his wife, who was momentarily paused at the locked door with no way of entering. Draco fished in his pocket as he came upon her, and Hermione rancorously let him unlock the door. She stepped right into the darkness as the slab swung forward and, forgoing any thought of a romantic arrival and appreciation of their home, Draco reached around the wall to the right of the door, searching for a switch. Narcissa had specified the right side.
When Draco found the toggle, he was met with three choices. Without thought, he simply clicked the first. Bright lights flickered on all around the circumference of the circular room, just where the ceiling met the wall. Hermione, who had stopped walking after only a few steps, let her eyes adjust to the light and momentarily forgot all her troubles as she looked up. Eyes wide with astonishment, Hermione gazed at the great dome ceiling, decorated with some sort of intricate painting. Unlike most ceilings of such elegance, it was not very high. In fact, the straight walls towered only two feet or so above her head, and the highest point of the dome was only at three.
Although Hermione was engrossed with the convoluted masterpiece above them, Draco held more concern for her. He had glanced and gawked at the piece for a whole of two seconds before returning his attention to the elegantly dressed woman before him. He approached her with immense caution.
"Hermione," Draco said with soft composure, reaching forward to place a hand on her arm. Hermione spun, all the night's events returning to her memory with just the sound of his voice and, for a moment, she felt angry with him for interrupting her meditation. The look on Draco's face, so different from the last she'd seen before her interlude with her best friends, made Hermione forget her petty illusion and focus on the more important matters for being angry with him. With a slight tremble of her chin, Hermione shook her head at the floor. Draco opened his mouth to say something no doubt along the lines of an apology, for what he didn't know, but Hermione saved him.
"I'm going upstairs," she announced. "It's late, and I'm tired." Hermione turned again to ascend the grand white marble staircase hat resided immediately opposite the door. As she was already half way across the entry hall, it wouldn't take long to make this journey. Draco, however, seemed not ready to let her leave.
"Hermione," he repeated, "wait..." Though she didn't wish to, something made Hermione turn back to him. And, when Draco pulled her into his arms, something made her let herself take comfort in his embrace. Perhaps it was pure habit that she would allow Draco to console her when something wasn't right inside... particularly if that something wrong had something to do with a certain pair of Gryffindor. There had been too many times to count on fingers and toes in which a Gryffindor and a Slytherin would meet at the top of the north (and highest) tower and Hermione would vent her frustrations. Then, they would share an embrace, and everything would seem perfectly better, if just for the time being. These were, of course, dangerous escapades, and were few and far between... but enough to make Draco Malfoy seem like a walking bucket of honey and warm milk. All he had to do was open his arms and the world became a bit brighter.
This time, however, Draco's honey wasn't enough. He gave this hug for two primary reasons; one, to comfort Hermione and two, to prove to himself that she had simply had a spat with her friends, and only needed a little love to bring her true self back to the surface. Unfortunately, it seemed to do neither to the extent he wished. Hermione pulled away and suffered him a forced smile, then turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Draco alone at the bottom.
He watched her until she disappeared from view, then debated going after her. Although he was overly concerned (it wasn't every day that a bride left her wedding in tears) Draco decided it best to give her some time alone and sat on the bottom most stair, placing his head in his hands. The honey hadn't worked.
~*~
When Draco finally did ascend the stairs, tie undone and hanging loosely, shirt untucked, and jacket missing, all was silent. There was a hallway at the top of the stairs, and each side was lined with four doors on each side. At the end of the hall was a set of grander slabs, decorated with gold trim. It didn't take an idiot to determine which was the master bedroom.
With caution, Draco approached the doors. They had been left only slightly ajar, but through the crack he could see the silhouette of a bed, with a very noticeable lump in the center. He heaved a heavy sigh and slowly opened the off set door.
Even from across the room, it was obvious that Hermione tensed as she heard her husband arrive. Even in her head, that didn't sound right. First off, Draco definitely did not feel like her husband, no matter how many white dresses she had to wear, and secondly, one does not fear their marriage partner... at least not on the wedding day. Draco was cautious of her painfully obvious discomfort, and slowly made his way toward the unoccupied side of the bed. At least sleeping alongside each other was nothing new to be installed.
Draco sank onto the mattress, his eyes locked on Hermione, although she was facing away from him.
"Hey," he said softly, but she ignored it, and pretended to be asleep. Draco sighed at this and stood back up, walking around the room as he down dressed himself. Once nothing remained of his attire but a very modest pair of shorts, he again tried to console Hermione. Draco climbed under the sheets and moved his body close, placing a hand gently on her upper arm. "Mina..."
"Why do you keep calling me that; you've never called me that before," Hermione pointed out in a weak voice, but didn't otherwise move. Draco perked up a bit at hearing her speak, but her tone and question quickly dampened his spirits.
"I... I guess because we're older now; we've gone through some pretty big changes... I thought it might... signify the changeover," he explained, but sounded as if the question took some thought. In truth, he had noticed himself picking up this habit, but had never analyzed it as she was asking him. His thoughts were complicated things to explain.
"Well, maybe I don't want things to change. Maybe I didn't want any of this," she countered and Draco frowned. He opened his mouth to say anything that would make her feel better, but Hermione wasn't finished. "I've tried, Draco... I have. I've tried to accept this, accept everything... keep my head high... but you PEOPLE make it so HARD." For a moment, all thoughts of consolement left Draco completely. He narrowed his eyes at Hermione's back.
"Us people?" he questioned, and Hermione turned onto her back, facing him. She was no longer crying, but looked decidedly unhappy nonetheless.
"Yes, YOU people. You're a part of it too, Draco..." She shook her head and tilted her it away from him. "And at the same time, I'm conflicted. I doubt any of you even realize..."
"Tell me," Draco prompted, and Hermione met his eyes once more. "Tell me what I've done, other than what I'm forced to do," he said, somewhat spitefully. "I'm sorry if I've ruined your entire being by marrying you, but, in case you haven't noticed, I didn't really have a choice." As Draco finished, he tilted his chin upward, extenuating his words. He fully expected Hermione to do as she had a thousand times before and fall to his feet, assuring he was wrong. This time, however, she didn't give in so easily.
"That's exactly what you did," she said, making Draco's glare soften into a look of pure confusion.
"What?"
"Draco, we may not have had a choice, but at least I know what my feelings are toward this... you're like a sick little puppy... anything anyone says is automatically registered as true to your mind, and you accept it. Tell me, do you spite our parents at ALL for what they've put us through?"
Draco paused. First of all, he was surprised at Hermione's sudden decision to speak her mind so harshly. For as long as he could remember, she'd never given him an ill word and meant it... she seemed to mean it tonight. Secondly, he honestly didn't know the answer to her question. He hadn't really thought about the 'what ifs'. He had to marry her, and he tried to make the best of it. End of story. Hermione sighed.
"See? You don't know... and in that you've contributed to the cesspool of disregard that I've been standing in ever since I came home from Ron's last summer. You've become the epitome of what our parents want us to be, they've decided that what I want means nothing and planned out my entire life for me... and now, I don't even have Harry and Ron. I just feel so... alone. Trapped. I hate everything and there's nothing I can do about it."
Draco let his mouth open and close freely for a moment as he tried to thing of something, anything, to defend himself with.
"Hermione... I don't know what to say, I... I'm sorry," he finally settled on stuttering, and Hermione gave him the weakest of smiles.
"See... I knew you didn't even realize. No one does. I know everyone only has the best intentions... I just can't help what I feel," she said, and all was silent for an extended moment. Draco just watched her as she stared teary-eyed at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. "I'm so sorry, Draco. This isn't fair for you; I know it isn't. I never planned to say anything... I don't know why I told you."
"Hermione..." Draco said, sighing. "As cliché as it sounds, I'm glad you told me. You've brought up a very good point and I can understand why you have these inner demons. And, whether we asked for it or not, I am your husband and you are my wife. It is my role in this family to be here for you, and I sure as bloody hell plan on doing it. You shouldn't feel alone, Mynee, because you're not." Although Draco's speech was demanding and chauvinistic, it made Hermione smile. He kept his chin tilted up and his face set in determination, even as his wife shifted and cuddled into him. He placed an arm around and held her close, but otherwise remained the stone soldier he thought she needed.
"Thank you," she whispered, then the room was basted again in a heavy silence. Draco did not want their night to end this way... there was quite a bit of talking he wanted to get through before her eyes grew too heavy to open.
"Hermione," he said, flooding the silent room with his deep and curious voice. She shifted slightly and mumbled a response into his chest. "What happened with Harry and Ron?" At this question, Hermione pulled back from her nest, smiling in spite of how her friends had made her feel. Draco was beginning to make all the pain seem worthwhile.
"They came to pick me up," she stated simply, and Draco lifted an eyebrow.
"Pick you up?" he asked and Hermione nodded, smirking.
"They wanted me to come with them to Italy and marry Ron."
"What?" Draco exclaimed, taken off guard. "And what did you say?" Hermione shrugged a shoulder.
"I asked if we could live in Venice."
Draco laughed at this and the funny little smirk on her face. It was obvious she hadn't agreed... if she had, would she have come running to him?
"And what were they planning on doing with me? Poison or lawn darts?"
Hermione laughed at this display of wit, and Draco smiled as he felt her body quake against his. She was acting a bit more like herself.
"I think we were just going to hope you didn't notice. Assume I went home with one of your drunk cousins," Hermione said, closing her eyes and settling herself back into the fetal arrangement she had favored just moments before. Again, Draco let the silence sit. It wasn't until she shifted, allowing a leg to brush his, that he started another conversation.
"Hermione," he said again and, although she sighed, Hermione seemed attentive and ready to answer any question he might have. "Are we going to... I mean, erm... do you really want to just go to sleep?" Hermione chuckled in her head; it was adorable how nervous this made him. She stifled a false yawn and shifted herself so that she could rest her head against a pillow.
"Well..." she began, eyes still closed. "What else would we do?"
"Oh, er... nothing, I suppose," he said, but sounded quite disappointed. "Goodnight, then."
"Mmhm..." Hermione agreed, playing the part of exhaustion much better than she felt it. Draco sighed, emitting the last of his hope, and made the best of his situation, settling down into his pillow and closing his eyes with a slight disenchantment. It wasn't a minute later that Hermione cracked open an eyelid. She nearly laughed; Draco looked as if he were sleeping (although she knew he wasn't) but held a look of frustration on his face; brows drawn and lips tilted downward. Hermione, however, decided it might be a good idea to rid him of this troublesome feeling. In one fluent motion, she pitched forward and pressed her lips to his. Draco became a bit more animated. He didn't waste any time trying to work out what was happening; it was an automatic reaction to simply kiss back.
When Hermione showed no resistance, it gave him even more confidence. He pushed himself to hover over her, lips still working quickly. Hermione brought her hands, from where they rested on his sides, to slide over his chest and stop at his broad shoulders. This, in his eyes, gave Draco permission to touch her. Touch her like he'd wanted to touch her for as long as he could remember.
He moved his hands to her waist, then inched them slowly upward. Hermione squirmed under his touch, tensing each time his fingers shifted. When they brushed the bottoms of her breasts, she broke from the kiss and gasped into his shoulder. Draco wasn't about to stop because she'd had a pleasant reaction, so he began kissing along her neck, still inching his fingers upward. Hermione, however, was trying to stop the room from spinning. They were moving very quickly and, in all honesty, it made her uncomfortable. Of course, sex with your best friend probably would be no matter the speed or situation. In this frame of mind, she let Draco do as he pleased and didn't stop him until she heard a loud crack from somewhere outside their room. She felt her heart pound even faster than it already was.
"Draco," she said, but either he hadn't heard, or misunderstood, as Draco did not discontinue working his hands upward. Hermione suppressed a shudder as more and more of her skin was exposed to his fingertips. "Draco, stop," she said, a bit louder, and with more conviction. Draco pulled back immediately at that, withdrawing his hands and pushing himself up on his arms.
"What is it?" he asked, out of breath. "Did I do something wrong?" Draco said this in a whisper, and Hermione (a little short of breath herself) shook her head.
"Did you hear that?" she asked him, her tone as low as his had been. Draco looked, although also a tad relieved, confused.
"Hear what?" he asked, but Hermione pressed a finger to her lips, asking him to be quiet. There was about five minutes of silence before she heard it again and, like the last time, her heart picked up speed. Hermione gave Draco a panicked look; he seemed to have heard it as well this time. "Stay here," he said, so quietly he barely spoke. Hermione, scared above all else, nodded her head in agreement and let Draco climb off her and out of bed. She covered herself in bedclothes as she watched his retreating back, and drew her knees to her chest in anticipation.
Draco cautiously approached the door, cursing his material free house. Where's a cricket stick when you need one? Or a wand, for that matter... As quietly as possible, Draco turned the gold colored knob and gently pushed open his bedroom door to peer in the surprisingly well-lit hallway.
Hermione heard him laugh from her nest in bed. She sat up a bit, trying to see whatever was so funny. After taking a step back into the room, Draco took hold of the other doorknob in his unoccupied hand and threw open both doors.
"Mum?" Hermione called in surprise, wrapping her arms tightly around her scarcely clad figure. "Cissa?" Crouching in the doorway, looking quite a bit embarrassed, were in fact, Narcissa and Madeline. Draco looked quite a bit amused by this, but Hermione was just baffled. Madeline laughed nervously and waved a bit before standing again.
"Erm... hello, love. Everything alright here?" she asked, backing slightly from the room. Narcissa stood as well, but seemed a bit ignorant to why her friend was so embarrassed. She was under the impression they'd just come to see how the children liked the house.
"Yes..." Hermione answered, sharing a look with Draco, who simply smirked and shook his head. "Mum, what are you doing here?"
"Oh! Well... I just came to er... dust the ceiling... yeah, that's it. The ceiling."
"The ceiling?" Hermione asked skeptically, lifting an eyebrow at her mother.
"Why yes of course!" Madeline exclaimed, but it was very unconvincing. "But it seems not to need it... so I'll be going now. Have a good night, kids, I'll see you in the morning," she finished, then was gone with a very familiar crack. Narcissa stared at the spot Madeline had left, then looked up at her son with a raised eyebrow. Draco smirked at her.
"Goodnight, Mum," he said suggestively, asking her to leave. Narcissa twisted her lips into a plastic smile and nodded.
"Sorry, love," she said, then was gone as quickly as her friend. Once the hall was again empty, Draco shook his head and closed the doors, then returned to bed. Hermione watched him cautiously as he circled round, a large smile plastered on his face, then crawled back in beside her.
"What do you think they were doing?" she asked softly, as if their mothers might hear. Draco chuckled and resumed his hover over her. He placed a feather-light kiss on her jawbone before leaning to whisper in her ear.
"I think they were listening in," he shared, and felt as Hermione inhaled sharply.
"What?" she asked and Draco laughed, then pressed his lips to hers once more. Hermione, however, was resistant, she pushed him away. Draco looked severely disappointed.
"What?" he asked softly, lips tilted into a frown.
"Maybe we shouldn't, then..." she suggested, shakily through conflicted feelings. On one hand, she was afraid of being caught... plus she was somewhat relieved to have an excuse for not going back to what they'd been doing before interrupted. On the other hand, she wanted to make Draco happy... and that meant sex. They'd have to do it at some point, anyway... "What if they come back?" she explained, and Draco's frown became an amused smile.
"We'll just have to give them something to spy on, then," he suggested, but she shook her head.
"I'm serious... I don't want them or anyone... listening. I'm paranoid now," she said, sounding defeated, and turned her eyes away from him. Draco shook his head.
"Then I'll just have to make you forget all about them," he said, but Hermione didn't look convinced. Draco sighed. "Look, if they come back and leave again empty handed... or minded... they'll be disappointed. And what happens when they're disappointed?" Hermione lifted an eyebrow, but Draco was quick to explain. "Remember when I came home with a 72 in transfiguration for Christmas and they made us spend a whole day locked in the drawing room so you could tutor me?" She smiled, and he continued. "Do you want them to lock us up until they DO get what they came to hear?"
"Ah! Draco, ew!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's bad enough that they might be outside the door... I don't want to KNOW that they are."
"So, let's not take a chance," Draco said, finalizing the conversation. Had Hermione wanted to retaliate, she would have needed the gift of speech through a French kiss.
She didn't resist this time. In the end, Draco's logic and her distant but strong need to return to the land of bliss she had visited for a few seconds before reality had dawned on her had Hermione kissing back. The kiss grew just as heavy as their last, and Draco quickly made up for lost time, covering her breasts with his hands. Hermione tried to keep up, but Draco was wild and persistent, and she finally had no choice but to give up.
"Draco..." she said, in that same urgent tone that sounded nothing like a lovelorn plea. Draco stopped and pulled away again, almost frustrated, and already breathing heavily. "I think maybe we're going a little too... fast?" For a moment, Draco looked absolutely terrified. He hadn't wanted to make her uncomfortable in the least. With a nervous little laugh, he tried to explain.
"I'm just trying to catch up," he said huskily, eyes trailing down the length of her body. Hermione shifted self-consciously and crossed her arms over her chest. She had forgotten her attire for a moment; in fact, she was merely dressed in her underclothes.
"Ginny filled my suitcase with socks," she explained, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I guess she was trying to be suggestive... it was either this or sleep in my dress." Draco chuckled to himself, glad to have covered up his complete lack of courtesy toward her.
"I think there might be one more option," he said, moving suggestively closer. Hermione giggled and embraced him, letting her fingertips massage his shoulder blades while he nuzzled her neck.
"Okay..." she agreed, "But go slow... please." Draco let a hot breath slowly onto her skin, and Hermione closed her eyes, basking in his gentle kisses.
I was originally planning on making this chapter longer... and a bit more detailed here at the end, but I've changed my mind. You guys get the point. They screw. We knew it was going to happen. What's the point of prolonging my torture and making me write all that stuff? Use your evaporated imaginations.
Hermione pushed her way through the crowds, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his back.
"Draco," she said, getting his attention, and the blonde turned around, looking immediately alarmed at the distressed look about his wife.
"Hermione... what happened, are you..." he began, ignoring Montanya completely and fussing over Hermione. She shook her head and cut him off.
"I want to go home," she admitted, eyes trained on his shiny black shoes, and Draco nodded, frowning.
"Alright... okay, whatever you want..." he said softly, as if speaking to a child. Normally, Hermione would have scolded him, but any sympathy she could get right now was good sympathy. "Let's just have Mum call the chauffeur, hm?" With no other apparent choice, Hermione nodded and allowed Draco to put an arm around her and lead her to wherever Narcissa was standing. As they started away, Hermione turned to view the table she had moments ago been seated at. Harry and Ron were gone, but the candle stood lit and upright.
~*~
CHAPTER TEN: Homecoming
After a quite tough time convincing Narcissa that Hermione's tears were because she was so happy, Draco was able to free her from the party and lead his wife to their waiting car. The chauffer was already sitting prim and proper in the front seat, as if it was his one and only ambition to drive them home. Truth be told, had Harry and Ron not showed up, the new Malfoy's wouldn't have left for nearly another hour... and it could be assumed he would have looked exactly the same had they waited.
Draco seemed genuinely concerned about Hermione, but she didn't look as if she wanted his condolence. Not once did she sob, but silent black tears continuously rolled down her trembling chin. She allowed Draco to lead her to their car, then open and shut her door, but, once he entered the other side, she paid him no attention. Hermione spent the entire hour and a half ride with her head pressed to the window and eyes shut tightly. She curled up as much as possible and ignored Draco, although she was sure he was watching her.
Interestingly, Hermione did not fall asleep on the way to their new home, nor did she wait for Draco to open her door. The second the car stopped she jumped out and started toward the front door without a second thought. Draco, without tipping the driver as he would normally have, bounded up the cobblestone path after his wife, who was momentarily paused at the locked door with no way of entering. Draco fished in his pocket as he came upon her, and Hermione rancorously let him unlock the door. She stepped right into the darkness as the slab swung forward and, forgoing any thought of a romantic arrival and appreciation of their home, Draco reached around the wall to the right of the door, searching for a switch. Narcissa had specified the right side.
When Draco found the toggle, he was met with three choices. Without thought, he simply clicked the first. Bright lights flickered on all around the circumference of the circular room, just where the ceiling met the wall. Hermione, who had stopped walking after only a few steps, let her eyes adjust to the light and momentarily forgot all her troubles as she looked up. Eyes wide with astonishment, Hermione gazed at the great dome ceiling, decorated with some sort of intricate painting. Unlike most ceilings of such elegance, it was not very high. In fact, the straight walls towered only two feet or so above her head, and the highest point of the dome was only at three.
Although Hermione was engrossed with the convoluted masterpiece above them, Draco held more concern for her. He had glanced and gawked at the piece for a whole of two seconds before returning his attention to the elegantly dressed woman before him. He approached her with immense caution.
"Hermione," Draco said with soft composure, reaching forward to place a hand on her arm. Hermione spun, all the night's events returning to her memory with just the sound of his voice and, for a moment, she felt angry with him for interrupting her meditation. The look on Draco's face, so different from the last she'd seen before her interlude with her best friends, made Hermione forget her petty illusion and focus on the more important matters for being angry with him. With a slight tremble of her chin, Hermione shook her head at the floor. Draco opened his mouth to say something no doubt along the lines of an apology, for what he didn't know, but Hermione saved him.
"I'm going upstairs," she announced. "It's late, and I'm tired." Hermione turned again to ascend the grand white marble staircase hat resided immediately opposite the door. As she was already half way across the entry hall, it wouldn't take long to make this journey. Draco, however, seemed not ready to let her leave.
"Hermione," he repeated, "wait..." Though she didn't wish to, something made Hermione turn back to him. And, when Draco pulled her into his arms, something made her let herself take comfort in his embrace. Perhaps it was pure habit that she would allow Draco to console her when something wasn't right inside... particularly if that something wrong had something to do with a certain pair of Gryffindor. There had been too many times to count on fingers and toes in which a Gryffindor and a Slytherin would meet at the top of the north (and highest) tower and Hermione would vent her frustrations. Then, they would share an embrace, and everything would seem perfectly better, if just for the time being. These were, of course, dangerous escapades, and were few and far between... but enough to make Draco Malfoy seem like a walking bucket of honey and warm milk. All he had to do was open his arms and the world became a bit brighter.
This time, however, Draco's honey wasn't enough. He gave this hug for two primary reasons; one, to comfort Hermione and two, to prove to himself that she had simply had a spat with her friends, and only needed a little love to bring her true self back to the surface. Unfortunately, it seemed to do neither to the extent he wished. Hermione pulled away and suffered him a forced smile, then turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Draco alone at the bottom.
He watched her until she disappeared from view, then debated going after her. Although he was overly concerned (it wasn't every day that a bride left her wedding in tears) Draco decided it best to give her some time alone and sat on the bottom most stair, placing his head in his hands. The honey hadn't worked.
~*~
When Draco finally did ascend the stairs, tie undone and hanging loosely, shirt untucked, and jacket missing, all was silent. There was a hallway at the top of the stairs, and each side was lined with four doors on each side. At the end of the hall was a set of grander slabs, decorated with gold trim. It didn't take an idiot to determine which was the master bedroom.
With caution, Draco approached the doors. They had been left only slightly ajar, but through the crack he could see the silhouette of a bed, with a very noticeable lump in the center. He heaved a heavy sigh and slowly opened the off set door.
Even from across the room, it was obvious that Hermione tensed as she heard her husband arrive. Even in her head, that didn't sound right. First off, Draco definitely did not feel like her husband, no matter how many white dresses she had to wear, and secondly, one does not fear their marriage partner... at least not on the wedding day. Draco was cautious of her painfully obvious discomfort, and slowly made his way toward the unoccupied side of the bed. At least sleeping alongside each other was nothing new to be installed.
Draco sank onto the mattress, his eyes locked on Hermione, although she was facing away from him.
"Hey," he said softly, but she ignored it, and pretended to be asleep. Draco sighed at this and stood back up, walking around the room as he down dressed himself. Once nothing remained of his attire but a very modest pair of shorts, he again tried to console Hermione. Draco climbed under the sheets and moved his body close, placing a hand gently on her upper arm. "Mina..."
"Why do you keep calling me that; you've never called me that before," Hermione pointed out in a weak voice, but didn't otherwise move. Draco perked up a bit at hearing her speak, but her tone and question quickly dampened his spirits.
"I... I guess because we're older now; we've gone through some pretty big changes... I thought it might... signify the changeover," he explained, but sounded as if the question took some thought. In truth, he had noticed himself picking up this habit, but had never analyzed it as she was asking him. His thoughts were complicated things to explain.
"Well, maybe I don't want things to change. Maybe I didn't want any of this," she countered and Draco frowned. He opened his mouth to say anything that would make her feel better, but Hermione wasn't finished. "I've tried, Draco... I have. I've tried to accept this, accept everything... keep my head high... but you PEOPLE make it so HARD." For a moment, all thoughts of consolement left Draco completely. He narrowed his eyes at Hermione's back.
"Us people?" he questioned, and Hermione turned onto her back, facing him. She was no longer crying, but looked decidedly unhappy nonetheless.
"Yes, YOU people. You're a part of it too, Draco..." She shook her head and tilted her it away from him. "And at the same time, I'm conflicted. I doubt any of you even realize..."
"Tell me," Draco prompted, and Hermione met his eyes once more. "Tell me what I've done, other than what I'm forced to do," he said, somewhat spitefully. "I'm sorry if I've ruined your entire being by marrying you, but, in case you haven't noticed, I didn't really have a choice." As Draco finished, he tilted his chin upward, extenuating his words. He fully expected Hermione to do as she had a thousand times before and fall to his feet, assuring he was wrong. This time, however, she didn't give in so easily.
"That's exactly what you did," she said, making Draco's glare soften into a look of pure confusion.
"What?"
"Draco, we may not have had a choice, but at least I know what my feelings are toward this... you're like a sick little puppy... anything anyone says is automatically registered as true to your mind, and you accept it. Tell me, do you spite our parents at ALL for what they've put us through?"
Draco paused. First of all, he was surprised at Hermione's sudden decision to speak her mind so harshly. For as long as he could remember, she'd never given him an ill word and meant it... she seemed to mean it tonight. Secondly, he honestly didn't know the answer to her question. He hadn't really thought about the 'what ifs'. He had to marry her, and he tried to make the best of it. End of story. Hermione sighed.
"See? You don't know... and in that you've contributed to the cesspool of disregard that I've been standing in ever since I came home from Ron's last summer. You've become the epitome of what our parents want us to be, they've decided that what I want means nothing and planned out my entire life for me... and now, I don't even have Harry and Ron. I just feel so... alone. Trapped. I hate everything and there's nothing I can do about it."
Draco let his mouth open and close freely for a moment as he tried to thing of something, anything, to defend himself with.
"Hermione... I don't know what to say, I... I'm sorry," he finally settled on stuttering, and Hermione gave him the weakest of smiles.
"See... I knew you didn't even realize. No one does. I know everyone only has the best intentions... I just can't help what I feel," she said, and all was silent for an extended moment. Draco just watched her as she stared teary-eyed at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. "I'm so sorry, Draco. This isn't fair for you; I know it isn't. I never planned to say anything... I don't know why I told you."
"Hermione..." Draco said, sighing. "As cliché as it sounds, I'm glad you told me. You've brought up a very good point and I can understand why you have these inner demons. And, whether we asked for it or not, I am your husband and you are my wife. It is my role in this family to be here for you, and I sure as bloody hell plan on doing it. You shouldn't feel alone, Mynee, because you're not." Although Draco's speech was demanding and chauvinistic, it made Hermione smile. He kept his chin tilted up and his face set in determination, even as his wife shifted and cuddled into him. He placed an arm around and held her close, but otherwise remained the stone soldier he thought she needed.
"Thank you," she whispered, then the room was basted again in a heavy silence. Draco did not want their night to end this way... there was quite a bit of talking he wanted to get through before her eyes grew too heavy to open.
"Hermione," he said, flooding the silent room with his deep and curious voice. She shifted slightly and mumbled a response into his chest. "What happened with Harry and Ron?" At this question, Hermione pulled back from her nest, smiling in spite of how her friends had made her feel. Draco was beginning to make all the pain seem worthwhile.
"They came to pick me up," she stated simply, and Draco lifted an eyebrow.
"Pick you up?" he asked and Hermione nodded, smirking.
"They wanted me to come with them to Italy and marry Ron."
"What?" Draco exclaimed, taken off guard. "And what did you say?" Hermione shrugged a shoulder.
"I asked if we could live in Venice."
Draco laughed at this and the funny little smirk on her face. It was obvious she hadn't agreed... if she had, would she have come running to him?
"And what were they planning on doing with me? Poison or lawn darts?"
Hermione laughed at this display of wit, and Draco smiled as he felt her body quake against his. She was acting a bit more like herself.
"I think we were just going to hope you didn't notice. Assume I went home with one of your drunk cousins," Hermione said, closing her eyes and settling herself back into the fetal arrangement she had favored just moments before. Again, Draco let the silence sit. It wasn't until she shifted, allowing a leg to brush his, that he started another conversation.
"Hermione," he said again and, although she sighed, Hermione seemed attentive and ready to answer any question he might have. "Are we going to... I mean, erm... do you really want to just go to sleep?" Hermione chuckled in her head; it was adorable how nervous this made him. She stifled a false yawn and shifted herself so that she could rest her head against a pillow.
"Well..." she began, eyes still closed. "What else would we do?"
"Oh, er... nothing, I suppose," he said, but sounded quite disappointed. "Goodnight, then."
"Mmhm..." Hermione agreed, playing the part of exhaustion much better than she felt it. Draco sighed, emitting the last of his hope, and made the best of his situation, settling down into his pillow and closing his eyes with a slight disenchantment. It wasn't a minute later that Hermione cracked open an eyelid. She nearly laughed; Draco looked as if he were sleeping (although she knew he wasn't) but held a look of frustration on his face; brows drawn and lips tilted downward. Hermione, however, decided it might be a good idea to rid him of this troublesome feeling. In one fluent motion, she pitched forward and pressed her lips to his. Draco became a bit more animated. He didn't waste any time trying to work out what was happening; it was an automatic reaction to simply kiss back.
When Hermione showed no resistance, it gave him even more confidence. He pushed himself to hover over her, lips still working quickly. Hermione brought her hands, from where they rested on his sides, to slide over his chest and stop at his broad shoulders. This, in his eyes, gave Draco permission to touch her. Touch her like he'd wanted to touch her for as long as he could remember.
He moved his hands to her waist, then inched them slowly upward. Hermione squirmed under his touch, tensing each time his fingers shifted. When they brushed the bottoms of her breasts, she broke from the kiss and gasped into his shoulder. Draco wasn't about to stop because she'd had a pleasant reaction, so he began kissing along her neck, still inching his fingers upward. Hermione, however, was trying to stop the room from spinning. They were moving very quickly and, in all honesty, it made her uncomfortable. Of course, sex with your best friend probably would be no matter the speed or situation. In this frame of mind, she let Draco do as he pleased and didn't stop him until she heard a loud crack from somewhere outside their room. She felt her heart pound even faster than it already was.
"Draco," she said, but either he hadn't heard, or misunderstood, as Draco did not discontinue working his hands upward. Hermione suppressed a shudder as more and more of her skin was exposed to his fingertips. "Draco, stop," she said, a bit louder, and with more conviction. Draco pulled back immediately at that, withdrawing his hands and pushing himself up on his arms.
"What is it?" he asked, out of breath. "Did I do something wrong?" Draco said this in a whisper, and Hermione (a little short of breath herself) shook her head.
"Did you hear that?" she asked him, her tone as low as his had been. Draco looked, although also a tad relieved, confused.
"Hear what?" he asked, but Hermione pressed a finger to her lips, asking him to be quiet. There was about five minutes of silence before she heard it again and, like the last time, her heart picked up speed. Hermione gave Draco a panicked look; he seemed to have heard it as well this time. "Stay here," he said, so quietly he barely spoke. Hermione, scared above all else, nodded her head in agreement and let Draco climb off her and out of bed. She covered herself in bedclothes as she watched his retreating back, and drew her knees to her chest in anticipation.
Draco cautiously approached the door, cursing his material free house. Where's a cricket stick when you need one? Or a wand, for that matter... As quietly as possible, Draco turned the gold colored knob and gently pushed open his bedroom door to peer in the surprisingly well-lit hallway.
Hermione heard him laugh from her nest in bed. She sat up a bit, trying to see whatever was so funny. After taking a step back into the room, Draco took hold of the other doorknob in his unoccupied hand and threw open both doors.
"Mum?" Hermione called in surprise, wrapping her arms tightly around her scarcely clad figure. "Cissa?" Crouching in the doorway, looking quite a bit embarrassed, were in fact, Narcissa and Madeline. Draco looked quite a bit amused by this, but Hermione was just baffled. Madeline laughed nervously and waved a bit before standing again.
"Erm... hello, love. Everything alright here?" she asked, backing slightly from the room. Narcissa stood as well, but seemed a bit ignorant to why her friend was so embarrassed. She was under the impression they'd just come to see how the children liked the house.
"Yes..." Hermione answered, sharing a look with Draco, who simply smirked and shook his head. "Mum, what are you doing here?"
"Oh! Well... I just came to er... dust the ceiling... yeah, that's it. The ceiling."
"The ceiling?" Hermione asked skeptically, lifting an eyebrow at her mother.
"Why yes of course!" Madeline exclaimed, but it was very unconvincing. "But it seems not to need it... so I'll be going now. Have a good night, kids, I'll see you in the morning," she finished, then was gone with a very familiar crack. Narcissa stared at the spot Madeline had left, then looked up at her son with a raised eyebrow. Draco smirked at her.
"Goodnight, Mum," he said suggestively, asking her to leave. Narcissa twisted her lips into a plastic smile and nodded.
"Sorry, love," she said, then was gone as quickly as her friend. Once the hall was again empty, Draco shook his head and closed the doors, then returned to bed. Hermione watched him cautiously as he circled round, a large smile plastered on his face, then crawled back in beside her.
"What do you think they were doing?" she asked softly, as if their mothers might hear. Draco chuckled and resumed his hover over her. He placed a feather-light kiss on her jawbone before leaning to whisper in her ear.
"I think they were listening in," he shared, and felt as Hermione inhaled sharply.
"What?" she asked and Draco laughed, then pressed his lips to hers once more. Hermione, however, was resistant, she pushed him away. Draco looked severely disappointed.
"What?" he asked softly, lips tilted into a frown.
"Maybe we shouldn't, then..." she suggested, shakily through conflicted feelings. On one hand, she was afraid of being caught... plus she was somewhat relieved to have an excuse for not going back to what they'd been doing before interrupted. On the other hand, she wanted to make Draco happy... and that meant sex. They'd have to do it at some point, anyway... "What if they come back?" she explained, and Draco's frown became an amused smile.
"We'll just have to give them something to spy on, then," he suggested, but she shook her head.
"I'm serious... I don't want them or anyone... listening. I'm paranoid now," she said, sounding defeated, and turned her eyes away from him. Draco shook his head.
"Then I'll just have to make you forget all about them," he said, but Hermione didn't look convinced. Draco sighed. "Look, if they come back and leave again empty handed... or minded... they'll be disappointed. And what happens when they're disappointed?" Hermione lifted an eyebrow, but Draco was quick to explain. "Remember when I came home with a 72 in transfiguration for Christmas and they made us spend a whole day locked in the drawing room so you could tutor me?" She smiled, and he continued. "Do you want them to lock us up until they DO get what they came to hear?"
"Ah! Draco, ew!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's bad enough that they might be outside the door... I don't want to KNOW that they are."
"So, let's not take a chance," Draco said, finalizing the conversation. Had Hermione wanted to retaliate, she would have needed the gift of speech through a French kiss.
She didn't resist this time. In the end, Draco's logic and her distant but strong need to return to the land of bliss she had visited for a few seconds before reality had dawned on her had Hermione kissing back. The kiss grew just as heavy as their last, and Draco quickly made up for lost time, covering her breasts with his hands. Hermione tried to keep up, but Draco was wild and persistent, and she finally had no choice but to give up.
"Draco..." she said, in that same urgent tone that sounded nothing like a lovelorn plea. Draco stopped and pulled away again, almost frustrated, and already breathing heavily. "I think maybe we're going a little too... fast?" For a moment, Draco looked absolutely terrified. He hadn't wanted to make her uncomfortable in the least. With a nervous little laugh, he tried to explain.
"I'm just trying to catch up," he said huskily, eyes trailing down the length of her body. Hermione shifted self-consciously and crossed her arms over her chest. She had forgotten her attire for a moment; in fact, she was merely dressed in her underclothes.
"Ginny filled my suitcase with socks," she explained, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I guess she was trying to be suggestive... it was either this or sleep in my dress." Draco chuckled to himself, glad to have covered up his complete lack of courtesy toward her.
"I think there might be one more option," he said, moving suggestively closer. Hermione giggled and embraced him, letting her fingertips massage his shoulder blades while he nuzzled her neck.
"Okay..." she agreed, "But go slow... please." Draco let a hot breath slowly onto her skin, and Hermione closed her eyes, basking in his gentle kisses.
I was originally planning on making this chapter longer... and a bit more detailed here at the end, but I've changed my mind. You guys get the point. They screw. We knew it was going to happen. What's the point of prolonging my torture and making me write all that stuff? Use your evaporated imaginations.