Hermione gasped into their kiss. She could feel each and every iota of self-control vanish into the night, with each second Draco devoted to her. It was nothing like their other kiss. It wasn't out of jealousy or anger or panic or an imbalance of all those things. This time was different. His kiss was gentle and kind, and the way in which his arms held her, with so much warmth and compassion, gave truth to all the things he'd been saying. There were no questions left unanswered.

Her lips trembled and then kissed back, igniting something between them. It was everything they had wanted, everything they had needed since being captured by enemy forces. Draco still couldn't remember a great deal of their time together, but the manner in which his lips and body and soul regarded her with such unyielding passion and sincerity offered a window into the things he couldn't see.

Their hurt was mutual. Their losses were parallel. Draco was damaged, and Hermione was no different. Their bond ran deep. It was embedded into the walls of their DNA and gave them a chance at something they had never thought possible.

Draco lowered her onto the bed, careful to hold his weight with his free arm, whilst curving the other around the small of her back. She sunk into the plush white pillows, giving in to her desires as they surfaced around every part Draco touched. He ran his hands along her sides, catching her blouse in his fingertips. Hermione pulled away, blinking and panting and feeling her chest rise and fall in quick succession.

"I – I'm scared," she breathed.

Draco brushed the hair from her forehead, nodding. "It's all right. I won't hurt you, not again." He gathered her in his arms and sat her up, making them level. "I'm sorry. I should never have kiss –"

"It's not that," Hermione interjected, solidifying her statement with the look in her eyes. "I want you," she uttered. "I've wanted you for a long time. I just – I can't do this with you and then lose you again. I can't go through that a second time. I know you don't remember but –"

"I don't need to remember," he said confidently. "I don't need to look back all the times I could have been honest with you, but chose not to be."

Hermione inhaled. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" Draco asked, staring between her eyes. "I know I don't have the memories you do, but what I do have is the outcome of all those petty arguments and stolen glances, all the back-and-forth and will-they-won't-they that consumed us for so bloody long. That's all the proof I need." He laced their fingers together. "I'm terrified of losing you, but I refuse to let that fear overshadow the only part of my existence that's worth a damn."

Her eyes widened. She had never seen or heard Draco Malfoy speak with so much faith. It seemed all faith had been lost after the Second Wizarding War, but there was new faith building in the least likely of places, between the least likely of people. Hermione reached along the back of his neck and drew him close, meeting him mouth-to-mouth and breath-to-breath.

She could not recall another time in her life, wherein the feeling of clothes on her skin proved to be such a nuisance. Draco shared this sentiment, and the pair of them quickly and clumsily tore off the remaining layers between their bodies and tossed their clothes to the side. She was down to her white undergarments, when his physique came into plain sight. Draco was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most fatally attractive specimen she had ever known. His arms and torso were riddled with muscles, and his legs were strong. Hermione's eyes wandered to the place that escaped underneath his black boxer briefs, and Draco cracked a smile. It was the first time she had seen him smile in a very, very long time.

"You're blushing," he teased.

Hermione frowned. "I'm not blushing. I'm just hot."

"True," Draco agreed, still smiling as he moved closer to her and kissed her neck and clavicle. "'Definitely one of the words that come to mind."

"What – What are the others?" she dared to ask, as she tilted her head back and tried to stifle the pleasure in each of her breaths.

Draco's fingertips slid beneath her bra straps, and he gently pushed them past her shoulders. "Confident. Sexy. Compassionate. Admirable. Strong. Smart." His eyes found hers. "Mind numbingly beautiful," he whispered onto her lips. "Every part of you."

"You certainly have a way with words," Hermione admitted, returning his kisses. "What's the secret behind them?"

"There are no secrets," Draco answered swiftly, waiting ample time before unhooking her bra.

She gasped in response. It was a mixture of surprise and relief, with notes of shyness. Hermione had never exposed herself like this to anyone, let alone her old school rival. She watched his eyes wander from hers to her lips to the place where her bra clung loosely to her breasts.

"I'll give you the honours," she winked, unbeknownst as to where this sudden burst of confidence came from.

Draco looked at her with uncertainty, trying his best to mask the desire that glazed over his eyes. He paused a moment, holding back for one passing second, before ultimately giving in and pulling the bra from her torso. The look in his eyes deepened, and his lips parted.

"You're blushing," she teased, echoing his previous sentiment.

He nodded. "How could I not be?" Draco asked, flicking his gaze in her direction, as she guided his hands to her bare breasts. His palms curved over them, in a perfect fit, and once he got over the initial shock, he massaged and kneaded them in soft, circular motions.

Hermione released one quivering breath after another. She scrunched her fingers into his hair and arched her back towards him, as his mouth drifted to her breasts. He kissed them, smoothly and delicately, sending vibrations through her body, down to her core. She could feel the place between her legs ache for him, and without a second thought, the brunette leaned back and pulled him down with her.

Draco continued kissing and exploring, coaxing several fluttery moans from the young woman before him. Each sound that escaped her lips drove him further and further over the edge of no return. The initial patience between them was wearing thin and their movements became faster and less restricted. Hermione held her legs up, pointing her toes to the ceiling, as Draco tugged off her white panties. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright.

He situated himself between her legs and groaned in response, as Hermione pushed his boxer briefs lower and lower and lower, until Draco was able to kick them off from around his ankles. He gave her one look – one long, deep, meaningful look that told her the choice was hers. There was only one answer to this question, and Hermione crafted it into a single, heated glance that seamlessly translated into four pivotal words.

Make love to me.