The kiss lingered for only a second before Hermione began to draw away, but she found that something was keeping her in place. Malfoy had one hand draped around the nape of her neck, the other gripping onto her dress as if letting go would cause him to plummet to his death. Hermione had intended for it to be a short kiss, but it seemed like Malfoy had different plans, and for the life her, she couldn't find a single objection.
His lips brushed up against hers, gently tugging each time he pulled back. The slower his kisses, the faster her heart beat and the bolder she felt. Her thumb traced the curvature of his cheek while her other hand ventured to the base of his neck, letting his hair fall through the spaces between her fingers. He pulled her in closer and she let out on instinctive moan.
At the sound of her pleasure, he rose from his seat and drew her up with him. He removed his grasp, only to immediately grab her around her waist and hoist her on top of the table between their long forgotten meals. Malfoy stood between her dangling legs, and as he leaned in closer to her, the space between them became near nonexistent, keeping both hands pressed to her cheeks, never breaking from his kiss.
Hermione was completely lost in the moment. It was as if all her hesitations from the last week became irrelevant when their tongues were too busy to start any more altercations. She leaned back, trying to stabilized herself on the table, but her hand collided with one of the wine glasses, accidentally pushing it off the table, causing it to shatter.
Hermione instantly pulled back from Malfoy, staring at the broken glass. "I'm so sorry!" she stammered, but Malfoy didn't seem the least bit concerned by her blunder.
While Hermione remained distracted by the mess on the ground, he moved his attention to other places on her body. "Forget about the stupid glass," he said between kisses along her neck.
She gently pushed him away with a hand against his chest, trying to ignore how firm it was under her touch. "But one of us could step on it."
Malfoy glared at her disapprovingly from under his eyelashes. Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him, determined that she would be the one to win the battle of their wills, and eventually, he begrudgingly tore himself away and conceded to her wishes.
He dug into his pocket, retrieving his wand, and began to usher the shards into the waste bin. As Hermione observed, she nervously bit on her already too short index finger nail. She didn't need a mirror to know that her cheeks were already blazing red, but there was hardly anything she could do to prevent Malfoy from noticing. She dropped her finger, shifting her attention to her bottom lip, watching as her feet swung from the edge of the table.
She had liked kissing Malfoy. When he let his guard down and wasn't a pompous prick, there was a part of her that didn't completely hate him. Well, she supposed it was a tad more than just a lack of hatred. In fact, she was quite nervous that she was starting to cross a line into uncharted territory. Anything other than unwavering animosity was still an entirely new concept, and all of it was happening too fast.
She pushed herself off the table and bent over to retrieve her bag. Just a quick pat on her cheeks confirmed that they were definitely burning hot. Hermione made sure to keep her head ducked as she spoke.
"I didn't realize how late it was," she muttered, although the clock barely read past six.
Malfoy looked up from the almost clean floor and scanned her over quickly, his eyes immediately drawn to her bag resting on her shoulder. "Hold up," he asserted, taken aback by her remark. "You're leaving?"
Hermione's stomach flipped once over. "I, um, need to feed Crookshanks."
"I've seen that thing you call a pet," Malfoy scoffed. "He can fend for himself."
Hermione didn't even bother to address his comment. "I need to go," she maintained. She readjusted her bag and tried to exit the kitchen before Malfoy made another attempt for her to stay. He was quicker than her, though, and latched onto her wrist, pulling her back towards him.
"You kissed me, dammit," he fumed.
His eyebrows were scrunched in close together and his lips were twisted into a scowl, but his eyes didn't hold nearly the same amount of anger as she expected. They just seemed wistful. For a slight second, she considered staying, but she ultimately couldn't risk what might happen if she did. She closed her eyes and yanked herself away, heading directly to the fireplace.
"Don't do this, Granger," he shouted after her. Hermione could just barely detect a slight crack of desperation in his plea as she was surrounded by the green flames and was transported away.
Her bag fell to the floor and she let out a sigh as she arrived back in her own flat. Crookshanks leapt off his perch on the cushion of the sofa and nuzzled between Hermione's legs, welcoming her home. He whimpered soft meows in greeting, but Hermione ignored him. She crashed face-first into the cushions of her sofa, burrowing herself into one of the pillows, releasing an exasperated groan.
Crookshanks wasn't at all disturbed by his owner's distress. The old cat just seemed pleased that she was home, pawing at her for attention. Hermione groaned again. "Give me a moment, Crookshanks."
She was away from his flat, and more importantly, away from him and the confusion that came with it, yet her stomach still felt about as steady as a ship in the middle of a summer storm. She didn't regret kissing him. She really didn't. But that was exactly the issue. She didn't regret kissing him. Her mind was racing and she desperately needed something to get her mind off of all of it. If she didn't think about him, then she didn't need to address what had happened and how she potentially felt.
Crookshanks traveled to on top of Hermione's back and started to knead into her spine. "Okay, okay," Hermione finally resigned, prying her head away from the cushion. "I suppose you actually are hungry." She pushed herself off of the sofa and Crookshanks happily followed her into the kitchen. Hermione poured him a fresh bowl of food and refilled his water, which he happily lapped up.
She looked around her flat and didn't know what to do next. It was a Saturday night and she had exactly nothing to do. Well, that wasn't entirely true. They weren't completely done with the addendum yet, but in her haste to leave, she hadn't considered retrieving it. She supposed she would have to get it back from him eventually, but now was obviously not the time. Hopefully Malfoy would be smart enough not to touch it without her. Regardless, she couldn't step foot back in his place tonight, even if she did want to continue working.
Trying to kill time, Hermione changed out of her dress and swapped it for her flannel pyjama bottoms and a long sleeve shirt. It was nowhere near time for bed, but there was no harm in putting on something more comfortable. Besides, for being such a nice day earlier, the night had returned and with it, the cool autumn air.
Finding nothing else to do, Hermione resorted to the only thing that had always entertained her regardless of the situation: reading. Slumping into her old arm chair, Hermione cracked open her book and resumed where she had last left off. After finishing his bowl of food, Crookshanks jumped up onto her lap and Hermione lazily pet him while immersing herself in another world, another time period, far away from anything Malfoy related.
After two hours of reading, her brain started to grow weak. She had been working hard all day on the addendum, and even her brain needed a bit of a rest from time to time. She tried her best to focus on the words printed on the page.
Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. "Lizzy ,'' said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?''
How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion, of her attachment to Mr. Darcy.
"Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?"
"Have you any other objection,'' said Elizabeth , "than your belief of my indifference?''
"None at all. We all know him to be a proud , unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him.''
"I do, I do like him,'' she replied, with tears in her eyes.
Hermione had to shut her book. The book was supposed to be her distraction, not cause her to think even more about Malfoy! And yet, as she read about Elizabeth's change in heart towards Mr. Darcy, she couldn't help but be reminded of her own situation. The smart, quick-witted girl hated the wealthy, haughty man, only to later realize that they were actually meant to be. Not that Hermione was saying at that she and Malfoy were meant to be! Dear Merlin, no! But if Elizabeth was able to see past that with Mr. Darcy, could she at least do that much with Malfoy?
She needed time to think, to process, and clearly, reading more of her book was only going to cause more issues. By now, it was only half past eight, but Hermione couldn't think of what else to do, so she brushed her teeth and slipped into bed, determined to call it a night.
She turned off the lights and settled underneath the sheets, ignoring the final remnants of sun that peeked through the bottom of her blinds. She closed her eyes and hoped that sleep would find her easily. All her energy was concentrated on clearing her mind, yet behind her eyelids, she could still vividly see his visage. His appearance was different than how she typically imagined him, though. Instead of his usual snobbish expression and air of superiority, she kept replaying the painful look in his eyes when she left.
She rolled over in bed and hoped a new position would bring better results. Her eyes were sealed shut as if that would somehow aid her mission, but once again, he popped back into her head. Reaching desperation, she covered her head with a pillow. Perhaps there was a chance she could literally squeeze them out of her brain. But it was all useless. Her mind kept wandering back to him.
She yanked off her sheets and headed to the bathroom, digging through the medicine cabinet for some potion that could help in any way. Hermione finally located her bottle of Sleeping Draught, but when she uncorked it, she grew very frustrated with herself when she realized it was empty. Even if she did have all the ingredients, brewing up a new batch would take at least an hour and a half, and she sincerely hoped it wouldn't take her that long to fall asleep.
Hermione rubbed her temples as she proceeded back to her room and hid herself under her sheets again. At this point, it was actually dark outside, but she didn't feel any closer to slumber. She dragged herself out of bed once more and located the most factual, mundane book she could think of and started to read. Luckily, within a few pages, her eyelids started to become heavy and she could feel herself finally starting to drift into a peaceful sleep.
She placed the book on her nightstand and pulled the sheets up over her shoulders, nestling into them. Her bed finally felt comfortable, a warm and welcome place for her to rest. She smiled as her mind started to wind down. At last, she was content.
The weight of the bed shifted as Crookshanks joined her. He pranced around in a circle a few times before settling into a ball next to her stomach. Hermione couldn't blame him. It was bound to be a cold night, and he probably just wanted a warm body to be next to. Someone to curl up beside him, someone to run fingers through his fur, someone to be there when he woke up. She let out a soft moan as she pictured all of those things. His body curled up behind hers, his fingers running through her hair, his warm embrace when they woke up…
Hermione's eyes darted open and she once again found herself out of bed, this time pacing back and forth, gripping the roots of her hair. This was insane! All she wanted was a pleasant night's sleep! Her throat was dry and her stomach felt completely empty. Granted, she really hadn't had that much to eat for dinner, but she knew that wasn't the cause for her easiness.
She reach into her closet and grabbed her cardigan and grasped it closed around her waist. Her mind shifted to autopilot as she retrieved her wand, slid into her slippers, and found herself back at the fireplace. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was in his flat.
The lights were all already off, and she stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. Usually she relied on heavily thought out plans, and surely this situation should have called for one, but her feet had somehow led her there, and now she was too nauseous to move.
The door to his bedroom burst open and Malfoy dashed out, his wand at the ready and pointed directly at her, pyjama pants laying low around his hips. The alarm on his face quickly vanished when he recognized her. Hermione sheepishly wrapped her arms around her still queasy stomach and looked down at her slippers. Malfoy crossed his arms as he paced towards her.
"I don't really know why I'm here," she stammered in a whisper when he was just a few steps away.
He looked like part of him wanted to say something cruel, something about how she had deserted him just a few hours prior, but he held his tongue. Slowly, his features began to soften, although he still kept a bit of distance between them. He looked at her own pyjama clad body and chuckled. "Couldn't sleep?"
Hermione smirked for a moment and shook her head. Her gaze returned to her feet, but only for an instant before Malfoy took another step forward and lifted her chin with a hooked finger. Their eyes only met for a moment before he closed his and kissed her. The tension in her shoulders immediately slacked and for the first time since she left his place earlier that evening, her mind was finally clear.
Malfoy pulled away and looked down at her again. Only this time, his eyes were wide, filled with doubt, as if he was questioning himself. But for Hermione, there were no more questions. She was done pretending she didn't want this. Cause, hell, she wanted this.
She reached up and pressed both palms against his cheeks and kissed him again, allowing herself to fully savor it. His lips were soft and felt smooth against her own. Malfoy's hand wandered to the back of her neck and grabbed a handful of her hair, locking her in place. He sunk in deeper with the kiss, and Hermione readily followed suit. Through their thin shirts, she could almost feel his beating heart jumping out of his chest as fast as hers.
He pulled away and rested his forehead against her own. "You better not be messing with me, Granger," he whispered softly. But she had absolutely no intention of stopping any time soon.
Malfoy went in for another kiss. It started off slow, but each time their lips connected, both of their desperation grew. He bit down on the edge of her lower lip and forced her mouth open, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Hermione resisted a moan as he moved his hands to her arse and her fingers entangled themselves in his hair, leaving nearly no space between them.
He clamped down on her bottom lip one final time before pulling himself away much too soon for her liking. She needed more. His finger traveled down her jaw and traced the length of her arm until it reached her hand. He latched onto it and looked down at her expectantly. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she nodded. He paused for a moment before he tightened his grip and led her into his room.
He closed the door behind him, and immediately they were back on each other, leaving all sensibility in the living room. In the dark shadows of his bedroom, there was no longer any doubt about what they both wanted, regardless of what the consequences would be.
Hermione's hands shook as she tugged the bottom of Malfoy's shirt and ushered it over his shoulder, revealing his bare chest that she had so carefully avoided looking at just earlier that day. Malfoy did likewise, hurriedly pulling off her cardigan and then her sleeping shirt. Hermione couldn't help but subtly blush when she recalled that she had already removed her bra for the evening, but she was sure that Malfoy would have no objections.
Their lips reconnected in an urgent kiss as he slammed her up against a wall and they both began to explore each other's bodies. Last time, Hermione had been so preoccupied with thoughts of whether or not she should or should not be with him, but all that hardly felt relevant this time. Her whole being was focused on the feel of his soft skin against her own and the crisp lines of his abs pressed against her stomach. He rocked his body against hers and she could already feel his hardness hitting between her thighs, making her moan in anticipation. She couldn't wait much longer.
Hermione took control and pushed Malfoy to his bed. He sat on the edge and kept his legs spread wide. She sank in between and slipped off his pyjama pants, leaving him completely naked. Without hesitation, she licked the length of his cock, and Malfoy let out a hiss in satisfaction, only causing Hermione to smile. She brought herself up and gripped him slowly.
"Get on with it, Granger," Malfoy moaned. She slowed her touch even further and Malfoy knocked his head back in a mixture of frustration and pleasure.
Hermione temporarily released her hold and and gently kissed Malfoy. She pulled back and traced the subtle scars that adorned his chest. She knew some of them were undoubtedly from Harry, others from the war, but how many of them were from since then? She kissed him on the lips once more before sinking back down to her knees, this time, taking all of him into her mouth.
Malfoy cussed under his breath as Hermione's lips wrapped around his length. Hermione closed her eyes and took him in as far as she could without needing to gag. "Fucking hell," Malfoy hissed, gripping her hair and pulling her away from him.
Hermione looked up him confused and slightly concerned. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"Not at all," he said with a smirk.
"But then why -"
"You first," he interrupted. "I do owe you after all."
He led Hermione onto the bed and crawled on top of her, leaving a trail of kisses up her neck. "You look absolutely incredible," he whispered in her ear as one of his hands snuck under the waistband of her pyjamas and the fabric of her knickers and tucked two fingers inside of her. They slipped inside easily and Hermione's back arched at their sudden intrusion. Malfoy smirked at her pleasure. "And you feel even better."
He pumped his fingers inside of her and Hermione writhed under his touch. "How does that feel?" Malfoy asked, but Hermione was way too consumed to muster a response. "Or do you prefer when I do this?" He added his thumb to on top of her clit and she absolutely lost it, moaning his name, no longer able to hold back.
He planted another short kiss on her lips before he lowered himself, yanking off the remainder of her clothes. Hermione tried to sit up and watch, but her head immediately fell back when Malfoy licked her entrance. He lapped lazy circles around her sensitive nub, keeping two fingers inside of her at all times. The heat in Hermione built until he pushed her over the edge, and she cried out his name in complete ecstasy.
Malfoy smiled up at her from between her legs with a sense of pure satisfaction and accomplishment. It was oddly satisfying to see the man who once bullied the hell out of her go to such lengths to please her. "Malfoy, I -," she began to say but he cut her off with another kiss, forcing her to taste herself along his tongue.
"We're not done yet, Granger."
He took her into his embrace again and kissed her until he was now the one with his back pressed against the bed. Hermione sat on top of him and they stared at one another for a handful of moments before he took his length into his own hands and guided it into her. Hermione lowered herself on top of him, feeling herself stretch out around him.
They stilled for a moment. Malfoy's eyes were closed and his face was twisted in deep concentration. Hermione slowly began to move her hips, raising herself up and down, the tension starting to rise up inside of her again. The first time, it hadn't lasted long enough for her to savor him inside of her, but she fully intended to soak in every moment this go around. He filled her up completely, almost to a point that it hurt, but the more that she moved, the more she became accustomed to his size, and the more she enjoyed it.
Malfoy grabbed her hips and directed her movement on top of him. It started slow at first, but they soon found a rhythm, her breasts bouncing each time she slammed down onto him. With each new motion, she felt herself slicken and he started to glide into her with ease. "Malfoy, I -" she started to whimper again, but Malfoy pulled her hair and kissed her again, her words lost in their connection.
"Don't talk," Malfoy whispered, coming off more as a desperate plea than as a command. "Just don't… say anything."
He flipped over and crashed his lips to hers, not waiting for her to reciprocate. The moment he pulled away, he slammed into her with a grunt, pulling himself out, and then slammed into her yet again. He kept a firm hand beside her on the bed and continued to thrust into her with full force. The fire grew between her legs, and she was so lost in the action that she couldn't even utter a sound. She could tell that she was right on the edge. If Malfoy kept this up much longer, he would more than compensate for his failures from last time.
His thrusts increased their speed, and Hermione began to whimper, but in an instant, without any warning, Malfoy tore himself away and pulled himself out of her. "Fuck!" he shouted, followed by an aggravated cry.
Hermione sat up in bed, confused and concerned. "Malfoy, what -" He punched into the bed beside her. She quickly sneaked a look down at him and immediately understood what had happened. Again. But he wasn't even drunk this time! "Malfoy," she stated more firmly. "What's wrong?"
Malfoy didn't bother to answer. He grabbed his pyjama pants from the floor and slipped them back on.
"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted. He was not going to do this to her again! She deserved a damn explanation!
Malfoy froze but kept his back to her. "Just go," he said, his voice full of resentment. "We both know you're just going to regret you let this happen again."
He made his way to his bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. It was like last weekend all over again! But no. Hermione wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. She needed an answer.
And for the record, no, she didn't regret that she let it happen again.