Chapter Twenty-one: The Bet

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

November 15, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)

At the library, Draco became impatient with Madam Pince, willing her to just go already. The old bat was hovering around them, reminding them of the library rules and special handling concerns for some of the Restricted Section books.

"And don't forget the charm for The Voynich Manuscript," she reminded them. "If you don't say the words just right, it will remain indecipherable to you."

Hermione made all of their arrangements, collecting two quills and ink pots from the librarian, and penning their names onto the sign-in sheet. Pince then guided them towards the door in the far corner of the room, the lighted indoor lantern in her hands casting her deep, severe shadow on the shelves and walls around them. She unlocked the room with a large brass key from her inside robe pocket, entered ahead of them and placed the lantern on a large, sturdy, wooden table nearby. Before turning to go, she once again stated emphatically to Hermione – a Prefect and trusted, regular visitor to the library – that she expected them both to properly behave in her absence. Hermione made her assurances and finally, Draco sighed, the librarian left for the evening.

In the ensuing, awkward silence, after the door shut behind Pince, he warily regarded Hermione, unsure of how make his approach. So far, she hadn't directly addressed him. Hell, she hadn't even looked at him. Should he start the conversation to break the ice? Maybe he should comment on her hair. Girls always liked being told they were beautiful. Or would that make her more uncomfortable than flattered? Hermione wasn't as sexually sophisticated as he was used to dealing with; she hadn't wanted to be teased or tamed by him. He was afraid of scaring her off. If only she'd give him a more obvious signal!

He sighed. He'd just have to let his witch establish the tone for what was to come tonight, and then roll with it. Not too aggressive, though, he consciously made the reminder, concerned about a repeat of past mistakes. He still didn't fully trust his responses anymore, not with that other side of his personality ambushing him when he was at his weakest. He'd have to try very hard to keep control around her from now on.

As he assessed his companion in silence, he cautiously leaned one hip against the table and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. Granger set the items she'd been carrying down next to the lantern, and then took up Slughorn's parchment, again reading it. She physically mouthed the contents of the list as she skimmed the writing, and Draco had a powerful, unbidden memory of sucking on those same lips. He shifted, trying to control his lower body's automatic reaction.

His gaze rested on her eyes, where it was safer… Wait, was she wearing make-up? He scrutinized her face in the soft yellow-white lamp light. Yes, she had on some sort of sheer gloss, there was a sparkle of color on her lids, and her lashes had been teased. That wasn't normal. The only time he could ever recall seeing her prettied up had been the night of the Yule Ball, two Christmases before. He couldn't recollect seeing her wear cosmetics since then. Did that mean something?

"What items do you want to tackle?" she asked, jarring him out of his thoughts and holding the paper out to him. "I was thinking of taking Channeling and Scrying items. But if you want those, then I'll take Petrification and Memory items instead."

That's right; he was here to serve a punishment. No matter what he might want to do for the next three and a half hours, all alone with the girl of his every wank fantasy in a semi-dark, very private locale – and that thought was seriously stimulating - he knew he had to produce some actual work, or else he'd be stuck with another detention next week.

He stepped towards Hermione, reached for the paper, gave it a cursory glance, shrugged, and handed it back to her. "Whatever you want," he tried for easygoing. "Your choice."

She stared up at him with big, doe-like eyes, blushed, bit her lip and quickly looked away. "Okay, then I-I-I'll take Channeling and Scrying items," she stammered. With list in hand, she circled a wide radius around to the other side of the table, careful not to step too close to him, determinedly headed for the tall wall of books.

Draco felt his smile flit to life.

Granger's reaction had been very telling: she was still attracted to him. That was something he could work with. Suddenly giddy and feeling rather playful, he stepped up behind her at the bookshelf, putting his hands in his pockets for safety's sake, and hovered so close that she wouldn't be able to not notice.

She was skimming the titles on spines, checking and rechecking against her list as he stepped into her. She froze between one breath and the next, but in the next beat, she straightened her spine. He almost chuckled when she primly cleared her throat, pulled out two books and brought them back to the table, again moving in a wide circle away from him. Draco moved with her, lingering over her shoulder the whole time, unable to contain his mischievous grin.

"Was there something you needed?"

Leaning his backside against the table, Draco rested his right hand against hers. It was a very slight touch, maneuvered to seem accidental, although he'd done it on purpose to test her. "I can't very well do my work if you have the only copy of the list," he reminded her with his warmest, least mocking smile.

She blushed crimson, but did not move her hand away - a good omen. He felt his stomach tighten in response.

"You're right," she murmured. Seemingly reluctant to break the skin-to-skin contact, Hermione reached for a fresh piece of parchment paper, dipped her quill in ink, and began scribbling down a list of the items he would be responsible for researching. He noted that her penmanship was beautifully done, the letters gracefully arching and looping, very feminine – much like his mother's.

When she'd finished, she handed him the copy. "If I remember correctly, references to Goofer Dust, Hyssop and Devil's Shoe Strings are ingredients used in the practice of Hoodoo. And I've seen Calamus Root and Indigo Licorice mentioned a few times under Native Muggle Medicinal texts."

He shook his head in amazement. "Your memory never fails to impress, Granger," he commended, flashing his most electric grin. He reached out and took the paper from her hand, and their fingers "accidentally" brushed in the transfer. He felt the jolt low in his gut, and by the way her eyes widened, he knew Hermione had been affected, too. Perhaps there was a chance for more after all.

Draco was suddenly struck with wicked inspiration. "I bet I can finish my research first."

She stared up at him, a challenging skepticism lighting her expression. "I doubt it. I spend a lot of time in here with these books."

"What, afraid of a little challenge, Granger?" he dared.

She scoffed. "Hardly."

"Well then… How about it? I bet I can finish my work before you."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and a playfully defiant glint came into her eye. "All right, it's a bet," she declared.

"And what do I get if I win?" he asked, dropping his voice into a sensuously low octave.

To his astonishment, her eyes traveled to his lips. As she narrowed in on them, she unconsciously licked her own.

With years of practice, Draco outwardly controlled his astonishment. Inside, he couldn't believe his dumb luck and was dancing a happy jig. It seemed as though Hermione had made a decision at some point in the last two days that she wanted to try again. Maybe that's what she'd been deliberating since Thursday morning even, and why she'd been ignoring him so spectacularly in the intervening hours in between? He'd taken her indifference to his presence as a brush-off, but maybe it had merely been her way of protecting herself while she mulled things over in her mind.

Still, he wanted her to say aloud that she wanted him to kiss her, so there could be absolutely no misunderstandings between them ever again. "Tell me what you're willing to give," he whispered, leaning down towards her upturned face.

Her breathing sped up. "What do you… want?"

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and held back repeating the reply that automatically leapt into his mind: I want you, he thought. I want to take you right here on this table and make you mine again. I want to hear you say my name as I make you come. I want you to want me this time – all the way. Instead, he settled on something a little more benign. "A kiss."

She dropped her gaze and licked her lips again as she considered his offer. The motion was so innocent and honest that it turned him on. Thank Christ he was wearing black pants and long robes, otherwise she'd see exactly how much she affected him - and that was the last thing he needed right then. Such blatant lust might just scare her away. Hell, he hoped he hadn't done so already with the mad idea of a bet.

He waited her out, and his patience paid off. The moment she looked back up at him, her face resolute, he knew he'd won her over. "Okay, I'll give you a kiss if you win," she agreed. "But if I win, I want something from you, too."

At this point, he'd give her anything she wanted, just so they could get to work. He was really looking forward to winning and collecting his reward. "What would you like?"

"I want you to go with me to Slughorn's Christmas party."

He blinked, surprised. "Didn't I already blackmail you with that obligation a few weeks ago?"

"So?" she bristled, defending her position. "It's what I want."

He chuckled and shook his head. The woman was mad. She was betting him a date that he'd already weaseled out of her fair and square. "Okay," he easily acquiesced, "it's a bet."

They shook on it. Her small hand curling around his was spine-tingling.

He turned and put that thrumming energy to work, determined to win this contest. As he reached the stack and grabbed the books he needed, he pulled a piece of strawberry gum out of its package, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing in earnest.

X~~~~~X

Two hours later, he was almost finished with his research.

Thank Merlin for Nott's cleverness! The gum his friend had given him had served as a strong motivator for him to quickly move through the work, reminding him of the juicy reward waiting at the end. The gum hadn't lost any of its potency in the last two hours, either. With each chew, the flavor of sweet strawberries flooded his mouth. He couldn't wait to share that with Hermione.

Last reference, he thought in triumph, furiously scratching down the final notation. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her start to close her own book. She seemed to do it in slow motion, as if wanting to prolong the moment. He finished scribbling the last of the information on Maidenhein petals, and with a flourish, he slammed his book at the same moment as the cover of her book closed, too. They glanced at each other.

"Finished," he triumphantly heralded.

"Me, too," she pronounced.

He grinned. "Guess we both win."

She licked her lips again, clearly nervous, and nodded. "So it would seem."

He tossed his quill down on the table and scooted down the bench until his hip connected with hers. Mere inches separated them. "Well, you win one date with me to Slughorn's party in December," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "That will set tongues wagging, yeah?"

To his disappointment, she didn't play back, as he'd expected. Instead, her expression reflected her concern. He watched her fingers twirl her quill back and forth as if it was suddenly the most important thing in the world. She'd done the same with the ribbon a few days ago, too. Apparently, she fidgeted with whatever was in her hands when she was distressed.

He knew a better use for those hands.

Turning, he flung his left leg over the bench, straddling it, and reached out with his right hand to stop her fiddling. "I'd like to take my reward now, Hermione," he softly murmured, his fingertips gliding down the quill to intimately brush against hers. "But only if you want to. I won't make you do anything you don't want."

Her breathing grew shallow, and she closed her eyes. "I… don't mind."

Draco lifted two fingers, and turned her face to him by applying pressure to the bottom of her jaw. She kept her eyes shut, and he felt a tremor flow through her. "Granger, look at me."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she coloured a dusky hue as their gazes locked.

"Tell me what you want me to do." He'd let her slide on admitting to wanting to kiss him, but this time, he was going to make her definitively admit that she wanted this. He wasn't going to be accused of taking this kiss from her without her permission.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his lips and eyes. Draco waited with the patience of a snake, not giving in to her reticent signal. Finally, her eyes became pleading. "I want you to kiss me, Malfoy," she breathed. "Please."

His heart squeezed in his chest at her brave supplication, and all of his good intentions simply dissolved away at the desperation in her tone. She wanted him. It was more than obvious now. And he wanted her… Christ, did he ever want her! With a reckless desire, he aggressively captured her lips, savouring her familiar taste around a soul-deep groan. As their tongues twined with a lush, fiery passion, Draco once more lost all rationality, giving his will over to the arousing feelings.

She tasted just as sweet as he remembered!

That strange compulsion to be as close to her as possible overtook him. Her kisses became an addicting drug, and he needed more, right now, without hesitation or doubt. I want you so much, he thought, his arms coming around her. For anything… for everything.

As if that strange and powerful magical connection that laced and knotted their hearts up each time they touched allowed her to hear his deepest desires, Hermione turned on the bench and threw her arms around his neck. Feathering her fingers through his hair, she latched on and kissed him back with a crazed enthusiasm. The feel of her nails raking across his skull… That darker part inside of Draco's heart came forward once more, directing his movements. With a growl, he intensified his hold on her as his mouth trailed down her throat. Nudging her collar with his nose, he bit the creamy skin over her pulse to mark her once again as his. She gasped, gripping him tighter, pulling him in - seducing him with her innocence.

Without thought or care to the consequences, he reached down and, tilting her thighs, moved his lover into a straddling position over his lap. With a quick shove, his hands bunched her skirt to her waist, and he cupped her backside, grinding her pelvis against his steely erection. Only a few layers of cloth separated them from each other now.

Take her again! the sinister presence in his head shouted. Fuck her hard! Make her scream!

Draco's spirit struggled against the forcible demands. No. NO! He didn't want to hurt Hermione again! Silently, he prayed to Salazar, Merlin and God for help while simultaneously seeking a physical anchor to keep his body in check. His hand moved of its own volition, reaching up and gripping Hermione's braid…

Red fire burst behind his closed eyelids.

The darkness inside flinched.

With an extreme force of will, Draco pushed back on the impulses that tore through him and shoved the malevolent side of his personality into the farthest reaches of his mind once more. He clamped down on his mental discipline, using the teachings his Aunt Bella had given him in Occlumency this past summer to restrain his devilish counterpart behind an imaginary barrier. It snarled at him, but remained at bay, wary of the red flame that seemed to flicker before his very eyes.

Control thusly restored, he forcibly slowed things down between he and Granger. He tenderly cupped her face, tapering off their hot blooded kiss with delicious, slow nips. When her zeal cooled and she began following his lead, he pulled his mouth away and hugged her to him instead, burying his face in her hairline, inhaling her wonderful scent. She burrowed into the crook of his neck, and he intuitively could sense her embarrassment over the loss of her restraint. For long moments, neither spoke, too overwhelmed by what they'd just experienced.

Eventually, her heart and breathing slowed to match his, and finally her body's trembling ceased altogether. As she lay passively in his arms, Draco nuzzled her soft, bound plait, noting the brilliant red fire that the interwoven magical ribbon gave off. I never want to let you go, he thought, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her skin against his where their cheeks touched. Can't we just stay like this?

Her fingertips idly stroked the hair at the back of his neckline, arousing him again by running over one of his erogenous zones. He shuddered and reached up and back to quickly, gently capture her hands. It was time to stop. He wasn't that much of an oak. He pulled her arms from around his neck and considerately removed her from his lap, feeling an empty, painful ache in his loins as she moved off of him. He kept a hold of her hands, stroking them with his thumbs to reassure her. "That was nice," he murmured.

Her eyes were glazed, insensible. She merely nodded in response.

"Perhaps we should bet more often," he teased, reaching up to stroke her bottom lip with his thumb.

She swallowed. "I'd… definitely like that."

His jaw nearly dropped into his lap. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? "Do you want to try again?" he asked her, hesitant in the assumption. "Us, I mean. Not just the kissing."

Draco could literally feel her spine stiffen and her muscles tense, even as she nodded.

"No misunderstandings this time, Granger," he warned. "If you want me, then just say it."

"Do you really love me?" she countered, gripping his hands in a fierce, sweaty hold.

Taken aback by the question, he hesitated. She'd walked out on him the only time he's said those three important words to her – the only time in his life he'd said them to anyone aside from his mother - and that had been quite painful. Truthfully, he was afraid of a repeat rejection. It wasn't in his nature to be so bold, or to recover so quickly from such a harsh rebuff as the one he'd received from her that afternoon, after they'd… well, after the incident between them.

He'd paused a little too long, apparently. Granger's face closed down, and she abruptly yanked her hands from his as if burned, pushing backwards on the bench.

In that same moment, they both heard the loud creak of the main library door open, and footsteps approach.

Shite, Sluggie's back!

Acting on some unspoken cue, they synchronized jumping away from each other, and began gathering up their parchments of research, books, quills and ink pots.

Draco knew he only had seconds to fix his mistake. "Yes," he whispered to her. "I really do."

He hadn't directly said the "L" word, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw his reply had been more than satisfactory. Hermione paused in her tidying up and smiled in pleasure. The tension in the room dropped by degrees, and Draco inwardly sighed in relief.

At least he'd done something right this week!

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:

The Voynich Manuscript = A handwritten book approx. 15th century in origin. Although many possible authors have been proposed, the author, script, andlanguageremain unknown. It has been described as "the world's most mysterious manuscript". Generally presumed to be some kind ofciphertext, the Voynich manuscript has been studied by many professional and amateurcryptographers, including AmericanandBritishcode breakersfrom bothWorld War IandWorld War II. Yet it has defied all decipherment attempts, becoming ahistorical cryptologycause célèbre. The mystery surrounding it has excited the popular imagination, making the manuscript a subject of both fanciful theories and novels. (Wikipedia reference)

Recommended Music selection for this chapter:

"What About Now?" by Chris Daughtry (Draco's thoughts about Hermione)