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Chapter 14 -
It was like heaven, dancing in Draco's arms. He held her so close; they almost melded into one. He took his hand and placed it above her heart, and told her she seemed flushed. She made a witty comment, but the whole time she was conscious of nothing but the fact that his hand was resting above her breasts, on her chest. He asked her what she thought everyone would think if he kissed her right there on the dance floor, and she told him to find out, so he did.
He teased her lips for many long moments, before opening her mouth under his, as he introduced his tongue. It was a glorious kiss. One of the best of her entire life. They were unaware of everyone around them, so much so that Draco put his right hand lightly on her left breast, cupping it without due consideration. That single act brought her back down to earth. Goodness, what if someone saw.
She pulled away, and it was as if there were a spotlight pointed right on Draco and Hermione, for it appeared that everyone in the back garden had turned his or her eyes to the pair. So that meant everyone saw him grope her like a common whore on the dance floor. She pushed away from him, said, "I'm so sorry," and she ran into the backdoor, and headed straight up to the third floor, to Ron's old room.
She shut the door quietly, and sat on Ron's bed. He still had the same disgusting Chudley Cannons blanket on his bed. She stood up for a minute and looked back down at the bed. Yuck, she wondered if Ron and Pansy had done anything in that bed. She moved over to a chair. She heard the door handle wiggle before she heard anything else. Hermione looked toward the door, and in walked Draco.
The first thing he asked was, "Is this Weasel's old room?" She meekly nodded. The second thing he asked, was, "What's wrong?"
She was embarrassed, so she looked down at the floor. She said quietly, "What were you doing down there?"
"Down where?" he asked confused.
She looked up in his eyes. "Outside, on the dance floor."
He came toward her, knelt by the chair, and he took one of her hands. She snatched it away.
"Please tell me what I've done," he said sincerely. "I thought you wanted me to kiss you." He leaned his elbow on her knees. She did not move it away.
She sighed and said, "I'm not upset about the kiss."
"Then what?" he asked.
"You touched my breast, right on the dance floor, right in front of everyone, like I'm some common whore, or something. It embarrassed me. Everyone saw," she said, standing quickly, and knocking him over on his rump.
He moved to his knees, and stood back up, to face her. She was now sitting on the bed. He looked at the bed, and wondered what disgusting things Weasel and Pansy the Pug had done in that bed, so instead of sitting next to her, he pulled her up by her shoulders and stood in front of her.
"I didn't even realize what I was doing, because I was so caught up in the moment, but I don't think anyone saw. It's not like we were flaunting anything out there," he explained.
"Everyone saw!"
"No they didn't."
"What are we doing here, Malfoy?" she asked.
"You mean in the Weasel's old room?" he asked back and he smiled.
She walked over to the window and looked out at the guests in the backyard. "You know that's not what I mean."
"Do you want to know my intentions, or something?" he joked.
"What if I do? Would that be so wrong?" She turned and looked at him.
"Wow, I wasn't expecting that," he said, honestly. He came up to her and said, "What do you want out of this? What would you like to happen tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that?"
"Why do I have to answer first?" she wondered aloud.
"Because, you're the one who started this line of questioning, anyway, you're supposed to be the brave one, so be courageous, Granger, and tell me what you want, and don't say that you don't know, or that you're not sure, or any such tripe. Just tell me what you want," he implored.
"What if what I want isn't what you want?" she reasoned.
"Then I'll laugh at you and make you regret the day you were born," he said, with a half smile.
He put his arms around her waist, and she couldn't help it, she put her head on his chest. She found the circle of his arms comforting. Without looking at him she said, "You said you loved me after one day, how is that possible?"
"I honestly don't know," he said.
She looked up at him and said, "If I can't answer with an 'I don't know', neither can you."
"Fine, Miss remembers everything I said, when I said that I loved you, I was just saying what I felt at that moment. I really felt at that moment that I loved you," he said.
"In that moment? Does that mean you aren't as sure now?" she asked.
He walked away from her and said, "For goodness sakes, Granger, I don't know. I don't think I would have said it if I didn't mean it, and I guess I mean it still. Now, answer my question, what do you want out of this?"
She looked at the floor. She suddenly found the pattern on the floorboards extremely interesting, for she did not want to look back up. When she did finally look up, he was still staring at her, waiting for her response. She said, "What if I said I want what Harry and Ginny have? I would even settle for what Ron and Pansy have. What if I said that I don't want that with just anyone, but I want it with you? Would you run and hide?"
"I guess not, since I'm still here," he answered back. Suddenly, he said, "Date 25."
"What?" she asked.
"We honestly just jumped up to date 25. We're asking the others intentions, and thinking of a possible future with each other. Date 25," he explained.
She could not help but smile. She said, "Do you want to go up on a hill, and watch the sunset?"
"Will it be all romantic and all that mush?" he asked.
"Probably," she answered.
"Will you try to kiss me?" he asked, smirking.
"Definitely," she answered.
"Will you try to touch my breasts?" he asked. He laughed before she could. She turned scarlet and he said, "Aye, how sweet, Granger is blushing."
"No, I'm not," she said.
"I know a blush when it crosses your cheeks, Miss Granger." He came up and touched her nose quickly with his index finger. Her hands went up to her cheeks, to hide her blush. He came up to her intimately, took her hands away from her face, and kept them in his.
"I know I think too much, and analyze things too much, and tend to talk things to death, but this is me, and this is who you get, okay?" she said. He pulled her so close to him, that her body was flush next to his. He kept his hands around her wrists and pulled her in for a kiss. He kissed her mouth fiercely. He kept her hands down to her sides.
He said, "Show me this lovely sunset, Hermione, but if it doesn't live up to my expectations, I guess you'll have to make it up to me, somehow."
He let go of one hand, and continued to hold the other. He dragged her downstairs, as she said, "We can just sneak out the front door."
"No, sneaking," he said, leading her downstairs. He added, "You aren't ashamed to be seen with me, are you?" He meant it as a joke, for he didn't really think that. She pulled him to a stop.
"I'm not ashamed!" she said, adamantly.
He knew that, but he wanted to play on her sympathies. He said, "I know that we are, what did Weasel say, an unlikely pair, and I know you're too good for me, but if you're in any way embarrassed to be seen with me, well, I understand."
She stopped walking and said, "I swear! I'm not ashamed, embarrassed, self-conscious, discomfited, or any thing else. If anything, I would think you would feel that way about me."
What did she say? "I was having a lark. I don't really think you feel that way." He wanted her to know that he really didn't, so he put his hands on her face and put his face close to hers, so that he could feel her warm breath on his skin. "I mean it. I know you're a good person, and sincere, and loyal. I think those are your best traits. And what a ninny you are, if you think I am too good for you."
"A ninny?" she smiled. "What, are you making up words now?"
"You've heard of ninny," he scolded.
"You're right, I have, I just didn't think anyone from this century would use a word like that," she said, smiling still.
"I shall ignore your cruel words," he said. He took her hand again, and walked out the front door and said, "Which way to this sunset?"
She pointed toward a hill, to the right of the house, past the field where she told him earlier that the Weasley family used to play Quidditch. They walked, hand in hand, up the hill. As soon as they walked up the hill, he said, "Where's the sunset?"
"It's too early," she plaintively said, "its summer, you know, so the sunset is probably another hour or so away."
"You brought me up to this hill under false pretenses," he pouted.
She sat down on the tall grass, and slipped off her shoes. He sat beside her. He put his hand on her knee. She slapped it off and said, "Fresh."
He smiled at her and said, "I can touch your breast on the dance floor, in front of a crowd, but up here on a hill, when we're alone, I can't touch your knee? Where's the reasoning in that?"
"Fine, touch my knee," she acted exasperated, and picked up his hand and put it back on her knee. He grinned, a wicked grin, and moved his hand upwards, bringing the hem of her dress with it. When his hand was on her bare upper thigh, she looked down at his hand, back up at his face, raised one eyebrow and said, "You really are pushing your luck."
"But, we've been dating almost a month now, and I haven't even seen you naked yet," he said lightly. "The least you can do is let me touch your bare thigh."
His hand stayed on her thigh, and she disregarded it for a moment, to say, "If we're on our 25th date, wouldn't that mean we've been dating for more than a month?" she asked.
"No, for with you and I, I figure we would probably want to see each other each and every day, so 25 dates would constitute dating for almost a month," he said, perfectly content with his reasoning. "We probably would even have more than one date a day, so that might equal a paltry three weeks."
"Wouldn't we get sick of each other?" she asked, no longer ignoring his hand, seeing that his thumb was moving back and forth against her skin, causing little goose pimples to raise upon her leg.
"Have you gotten sick of me yet today?" he asked, leaning in closer. He thought she smelled so sweet, like honey.
"No, I'm not sick of you, yet, that is," she said. She thought he smelled wonderful, like vanilla ice cream.
He put his free hand to his heart and said, "You wound me, Granger. To assume you would ever be sick of me cuts me to my very soul."
"You have a soul?" she joked.
He removed his hand from her thigh and without warning, pushed her to her back, leaning his entire body over hers. She used her arms mockingly to hold him back, as he used his to hold his body over her, not touching her, thus far. "I have a soul, Granger, and in that soul is a passion, which burns brightly, in its very depth, the likes of which you have never seen before. Shall I prove it to you?"
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