Sleeping With the Enemy

Chapter Twelve

"Ready?"

It was night. Draco was sitting, arms crossed, on their bed. Hermione had just walked in. "Ready?" was the first thing Draco said when he saw her.

Hermione knew what he meant. She threw off her long cloak. "I'm ready when you are."

Draco stood up and walked over to her. They gazed at each other for a moment.

"You might want to try picture someone else in the process," Draco suggested.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Hermione replied stiffly.

Draco hesitated. He was used to start the sex by kissing the woman. But it seemed ridiculous to kiss Hermione after everything that had happened today, including that last conversation, if you can call the short, impatient sentences they had said a 'conversation'.

"Well?" Hermione said. She seemed to enjoy taunting him. "Will you keep me waiting for a long time now? We don't have all night, you know. I also want to get some sleep, and I have plans for tomorrow."

"Plans?" Draco frowned. "What plans?"

"Usually I would say 'this is none of your damn business', but since you're my husband, I'll tell you. I've decided to spend every day, starting tomorrow, in Silver Books, until my training begins. I invited Harry and Ron to join me, and they might come sometimes as well."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You'd do anything to get away from spending time with me, wouldn't you?"

"I just think that since we don't get along that well, and we probably never will, there's no point in staying home and fighting with you all day. So yeah, I'm going to do my best to go out as much as I can. Now," she added, "will you finally get going? I told you, I need to get some sleep tonight."

Draco felt his face heat up in anger. There she was, Hermione Granger, her old self, just the same girl he had hated for seven years. Just as horrible as she used to be before he started to think he could like her.

"I guess I have no choice," Hermione sighed, "come here." And before Draco knew it, her hands had caught the front of his T-shirt; she pushed him backwards on the bed and pinned him down on his back. She leaned over him in a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing?" he breathed.

"If you still didn't get it, I'm not going to explain," Hermione replied. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his neck while sliding her hands into his shirt, roaming over his chest. Draco couldn't help but shiver. She rid him of the shirt and kissed her way down his body, from his neck, down his chest, to his stomach. She reached his belt and Draco let out a sigh as she began to unbuckle it...

"Didn't you... say you didn't want to... enjoy it?" Draco panted as her lips restarted their journey down his body...

"You think about yourself now," Hermione replied from somewhere below him. "You should only worry about whther you're enjoying it or not."

Draco didn't reply. He didn't trust himself to speak at that moment, because all he knew was that he was definitely enjoying it, way, way too much than he thought he should be allowed to.

Q

Hermione woke up next morning and immediately looked over to Draco's side of the bed to make sure he was still asleep. He sure was. She got up quietly, careful not to wake him up, and hurried to the bathroom.

Checking herself in the mirror, Hermione thought miserably: I'm not better than all those girls I used to despise. I've slept with someone I don't even like. I did something I've sworn I'd never do. I slept with a guy when I didn't want to sleep with him and I didn't enjoy it, but I made he sure he did. What kind of a slut have I become?

Hermione washed her face and started to change her clothes. At least I won't see him again until the night, she thought numbly. It's going to be like that until Monday. What a great week we're in for.

Q

She was gone.

Draco shut his eyes and shook his head hard. Of course she was gone. What had he expected? She had said she would go.

He knew she hadn't enjoyed the last night. She had practically done everything, and he just lay there and had fun. It was no wonder she didn't want to see him. Sex was supposed to involve two people. This meant both of them should have done something. He hadn't even tried to please her. So of course she went away.

We're in for a wonderful week, Draco thought bitterly, we sure are.

And they sure were.

Hermione spent every day at the bookstore, just reading the whole day. Draco just hung out. On Friday, he gave up and went to tell his mother everything.

As usual, she blamed him. And he had to sit there and listen to her screaming: "SHE IS THE BEST WIFE YOU COULD ASK FOR, DRACO! SO YOU'D BETTER START TREATING HER RIGHT!"

Narcissa was fuming. "You're NOT the only good-looking pureblood wizard out there," she shouted, jabbing a finger in his shoulder. "If Hermione's not happy with you, she may just as well go and look for another pureblood to marry her, and then you'll be sorry!"

"But I'm the only single pureblood wizard in England whom Dumbledore trusts," Draco dared to remind her.

"And tomorrow another pureblood will break up with his girlfriend and meet Hermione, and before you know it, they'll fall in love and she'll leave you. Then what will you do? You'll stay alone, Draco, because I'm not coming back to the Manor!"

"What?" Draco gazed at her. "Why not?"

"Too many memories," Narcissa replied, her eyes narrowed in anger. "Memories from your father. I don't want to live there ever again."

"But aren't you lonely here all alone?" Draco asked, looking around at his mother's new apartment.

"No. I meet friends and go out a lot, and I know how to keep myself busy, which is something you've never known how to do, I must say. If you stay alone at the Manor, you'll go crazy. So you'd better appreciate what you got and start making Hermione happy, do you hear me?"

"But I tried," Draco protested. "I was nice to her. She was the one who said she didn't want to be friends with me, that she couldn't allow herself to enjoy sleeping with me, that she couldn't let herself like me. She says there's too much history, and too much hatred in our past, and it's just not going to work out."

"See? So she does like you!" Narcissa raised her voice again. "Maybe she doesn't want to, but she does. She wants to stop herself, and that's why she doesn't spend time with you. She's afraid she might like you even more. And then she might start liking the fact she likes you. And then she'll really like it, and she'll like the sex with you and she'll like the fact that she likes it, and then she won't like herself, because – "

"I'm not following!" Draco screeched.

Narcissa sighed. "I'll try to explain more simply," she said sarcastically, "in simple words, for beginners, so that even you can understand. You see – Hermione is used to hate Draco Malfoy. She has hated him for seven years, and she had a reason. Now she realized she was beginning to like him; she saw he could actually be nice if he wanted. She saw he had really changed. And it scared her. She knew she wasn't supposed to like him."

"Why do you keep saying 'him'?" Draco asked impatiently. "I'm sitting right in front of you!"

"Shut up and let me finish!" his mother scolded. "As I was saying, Hermione knew she wasn't supposed to like you. She thought you two were too different. She thought it would be being nice to you meant betraying her friends, betraying all the Gryffindors and the Muggle-borns. And in addition, she wasn't sure if you had truly changed from the inside. So she decided she couldn't do that, and although she wanted to spend time with you, she decided not to."

"How do you know all that without even talking to Hermione once?" Draco demanded.

"It's a gift," Narcissa replied impatiently. "Anyway, what you have to do now is prove her she's wrong. Prove her you're changed, and then she'll be nice to you again."

"But she thinks I'm the world greatest scum!" Draco shrieked.

"THEN PROVE HER WRONG!" Narcissa screamed at him. "Prove her she's got it all wrong! Go there right now and talk to her. Let her fall for your natural charm. You have no choice!"

"What natural charm?" Draco blinked. "So far, my natural charm only caused her to tell me what a horrible, disgusting creature I was. How sorry she is about having to marry me. How she'd rather have ANYBODY else for a husband!"

"But at least she talks to you!" Narcissa claimed. "When you were in school, she wouldn't even do that. All she did was ignoring you most of the time, and throw insults at you once in a while. At least now she doesn't ignore you! Don't you see what a great improvement it is that she's having all those long conversations with you?"

"I do – and she probably sees it too, and that's why she doesn't want to do it anymore!"

"If you talk to her, she won't ignore you," Narcissa promised him. "We're wasting time. Go there right now and talk to her."

"Go where? To Silver Books?"

"Yes," Narcissa ordered. "You go there and look for her until you find her. Then you talk to her."

"But I'm not even sure I want to be friends with her!" Draco protested. "After all, she is Hermione Granger, the same girl I've hated for seven long years, a Gryffindor and Potter and Weasley's best friend."

Narcissa moved closer and narrowed her eyes. "She's not Hermione Granger anymore," she said in a low voice. "She's Hermione Malfoy. She's your wife. Does that mean anything to you?"

Draco closed his eyes and sighed loudly. She was right. Of course she was right. He had no choice. That woman was his wife; he couldn't spend the rest of his life ignoring her and fighting with her intermittently. Especially when she was going to have his baby soon. No, this was ridiculous.

"All right, Mom," he heard himself say. "I'll go."

Narcissa smiled and patted him on the arm. "Good boy. Now go, and good luck."

Q

A/N: I'm sorry this was short, but my summer vacation is over now and I'm starting to study tomorrow... I meant for this chapter to be longer, but I'll try to make the next one longer. I'm really enjoying your reviews. Thank you, everyone and have a good year, all of you who are starting to study soon as well!

Burgundyred: Well, about Lavender... I don't think I'll include her in the story anymore, I'll leave it to your imagination.