AN: Guess what, guys?
Four long years in the making….seriously….four years!
Yesterday I finished writing the final chapter!
I promise you; it's finished. Fin. Terminada.
Thank you all so much for sticking with me all these years. I will be updating regularly now until the final chapter is posted. : )
And a great big thank you to Bex for continuing to beta read for me. She's awesome sauce.
Okay…so this chapter is definitely rated M for lemony goodness. You have been warned.
The Journal
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hermione sat in the window seat of the library. Her legs were pulled up in front of her and her head was resting on her knees. She was watching the rain as it fell in sheets across the window.
Draco sighed from the doorway when he saw her sitting there like that. Again.
It had been nearly a week since he laid his mother to rest. It killed him to admit it, but a large part of him was relieved that she was gone. Yes, it had been a shock, even with the knowledge that she would soon be gone. And he knew there would always be an emptiness in his heart where she resided. He also realized that he had started mourning her months ago, if not longer. The ache in his heart would remain. But right now, he had more pressing issues.
Namely, the extraordinarily frustrating witch that had taken up residence in his libraries' window seat.
For five days now she had sat there. Watching the rain. Watching the clouds. Watching the sunshine. And not seeing a thing.
Lily brought her food, most of which did not get eaten.
Draco had tried talking to her, but she would not engage in conversation. At best he would get a nod here or there. Maybe a one- or two-word answer to a direct question.
It was so odd. He had no idea what was going on in her head. She was stuck in her own mind and it was starting to freak him out.
She hadn't even opened a single book since the day his mother had died.
He wasn't entirely sure that Hermione Granger had ever gone seven days without reading something before in her entire life.
To say he was worried about her was an understatement.
He hadn't pushed her all week, but he had enough. Obviously letting her sit there and stew, or whatever she was doing, was not accomplishing anything.
He sighed again as he walked across the room and sat down behind her. She started slightly, looked at his reflection in the window, and returned her gaze to the rain.
In his hands, he held her leather bound journal. He stared at it for a moment before slipping it into her hands. Then he turned his back to her, leaning his back against hers, and opened his matching journal.
He thought of the nights that he spent by his mother's bed, writing in the journal to a woman that was miles away. A woman that held his heart in her hands and didn't even know it. A woman that gave him a chance and trusted him when she had no reason to at all.
He hoped against hope that she would trust him once more. Then he put pen to parchment and started writing.
"For days now I have watched you withdraw into your own little world. I've tried to figure out how to reach you, but I haven't been successful. So, I just wanted to remind you that you are not alone. I notice you. I see you. And I am still here if you want to talk."
He closed the book and settled back against her. Then he waited. Several minutes passed before he felt her moving behind him. He heard the pages being turned. Then he felt her sigh deeply.
If he could have seen her face in that moment, he would have seen her roll her eyes right before her lips quirked into a small smile. A few moments later he felt her arm moving as she began to respond. He didn't look at the journal again until he felt her still behind him.
"Always the smooth talker. Ever since that first night when you wrote to me, I could never wait to see what you would say next. Your words have a way of comforting me. A way of making me feel cared for and special."
He smirked to himself as he read her reply, still amazed that she didn't seem to understand her own worth.
"You are," he replied. "I will remind you every day for the rest of time."
He could feel her move around as she read. She readjusted her legs so that one was curled beneath her and the other hung off the side of the bench. She leaned back against him and watched the rain for a long moment before she replied to him.
"It's hard to believe you used to make fun of my frizzy hair and big teeth in school."
"Well, to be fair, did you see what your hair looked like back then?"
He held his breath, not sure if she would be in the mood for teasing or not. When he heard her laugh softly, he allowed a small smile to tilt at his lips.
She didn't respond, though. Instead she leaned against him and he leaned against her, and they watched the rain together for a long moment.
There were many questions he wanted to ask her. How are you feeling? Are you okay? Why are you staring out the window instead of working? Have you given up?
Do you regret our time together?
Those questions and more were swirling through his mind, but he did not ask her any of them. Maybe he was afraid to spook her. Maybe he knew she wouldn't want to talk about those things. Maybe he was afraid of her answers.
So he stayed silent, and he watched the rain.
It was soothing. The rain. The pitter patter as it hit the window pane. The rivulets that made their way slowly down the glass were mesmerizing.
Several minutes passed before the book in his hands began to glow a soft blue. It surprised him because he hadn't felt her writing behind him that time.
"It's therapeutic, isn't it? I love the rain. Watching it. Listening to it. It's so cleansing. I forget my troubles and get lost in the beauty of it all."
"I never thought about it before, honestly. You have a different way of looking at the world that fascinates me. You see beauty where most people see ugliness. You see value where most see worthlessness. You see me where most people see my past."
The words flowed onto the parchment before he really thought about what he was saying. He shook his head as he watched the words disappear. He had wanted to keep the conversation light, to try to pull her away from her thoughts. He had buggered that up alright.
He waited as he felt her writing. Her words began coming through as he watched the page in front of him.
"When I look at you, I…"
Suddenly she slammed her journal shut, turned around and ripped his book out of his hands.
"What the hell?" he asked in surprise.
She threw his book across the room, where it landed face down on the floor by the table.
"What did you do that for?"
He looked back and forth from her to the journal and back again. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were bright red.
"Don't read that!" she stated.
He raised his eyebrows and looked at the book again. Now he was intrigued. What had she written that she didn't want him to see?
"You know I'm going to read it, Maya." He smirked and took two steps towards its resting place.
"No! Don't!" She ran ahead of him and picked the book up, holding it behind her back as he stalked closer to her.
"Either you don't want me to see it because it's embarrassing, or because it's something cruel. So, which is it?" He teased her, pretty sure that whatever she had written was the former rather than the latter.
She kept backing away from him until she backed into a bookshelf.
"It's not anything bad, I promise."
He stopped in front of her and placed his hands on the shelf to either side of her.
"Are you going to give me the book back? Or do I have to take it from you?"
She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through her eyelashes.
As curious as he was to see what she had written, in that moment he thought that she had never looked more beautiful. Suddenly he realized the compromising position they were in. She seemed to realize it as well as he heard her breath catch in her throat.
Her hair framed her face in unruly waves. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks still red, but a smile sat on her lips and a giggle escaped her throat.
His hands slowly moved down to her waist where they settled against her hips.
Then, without warning, he began tickling her.
She screamed with laughter and ducked away from him gracelessly. He followed her, tickling her every chance he got before she would duck away and flee once again.
They were both breathless with laughter when he cornered her against the secret door to the rooftop garden. The lighting in that corner of the room was dim, but he could still see her eyes dancing with mirth.
His hands once again settled on her hips and his forehead came to rest against hers. She giggled lightly but didn't move away. Instead she placed her hands on his chest and sighed deeply as the laughter drifted off and the smile remained.
They both seemed to move at the same time then. Their lips met in a searing kiss. The mood between them changed in an instant from playfulness to passion as her soft lips moved beneath his.
It had been nearly two weeks since they had been intimate. As the days wore on, Draco had worried that her feelings towards him had changed. That maybe she didn't want to be with him anymore. Maybe she never had.
But now, as she kissed him with just as much fervor as he; as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and hitched her leg up around his waist, he knew that it wasn't true at all. She still wanted him. She hadn't had a change of heart.
That knowledge only made him more frantic for her.
She finally got the last button open on his shirt and wasted no time pushing it off his shoulders and spreading her hands out against his bare chest. With surprising force, she pushed him until his back hit the bookcase.
"Draco," she breathed as her lips left his and traveled across his jaw and down his neck.
He reached for the hem of her shirt, but she stopped him, pushing both of his hands back against the bookshelves.
"Do you trust me?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes that swam with desire.
"Of course," he answered breathily.
"Then stay still." She smiled at him while she worked on first his belt, then his zipper.
He smirked down at her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her quickly.
"I'm yours, Minx. Do to me as you will."
Honestly, he had never been more turned on then he was in that moment.
She pushed his pants over his hips and slowly sank to her knees. Her eyes remained locked on his even as she wrapped her hand around his hard cock. As he watched, she licked her lips before opening her mouth and sliding his cock down her throat.
"Oh, fuck!" he gasped as she held him there as long as she could before pulling away and gasping for air.
Her eyes met his again. He thought he saw a look of uncertainty there.
"Do that again," he practically begged. He would have begged if she hadn't taken him in again. This time she swirled her tongue around the tip first before taking every inch of his cock down her throat.
He practically saw stars it felt so good. Over and over again she swallowed his cock until, with a groaned curse he came deep down her throat. She swallowed every drop.
He wanted to drop to the floor next to her, strip her of all her clothing, and take her right there on the floor. Instead, he stood still, waiting for her to make the next move.
She stood slowly, kissing his chest and moving up to his neck.
"Did you like that?" she asked, as if she didn't know it was the best damn blow job of his entire life.
"Fucking amazing."
She stepped back and lifted her shirt up over her head, discarding it on the floor.
"Can I tell you a secret?" She asked as she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her legs.
"You can tell me anything." He watched her kick her jeans off. "Can I move now?"
She mirrored his stance, leaning against the opposite bookcase in nothing but black lace panties and a matching bra.
"Not yet."
"Hermione," he practically growled.
"Draco." She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the ground.
"You're killing me here," he groaned.
She bit into her lip as she slid her last remaining garment to the ground.
"So, my secret," she said as she leaned back against the bookcase and nervously hooked her hair behind her ears. "I've had this fantasy for years."
He watched her cheeks flush and he contained his laughter, merely smirking at her instead.
"Hermione Granger, fantasizing about having sex in a library? I never would have guessed."
"No? Would you have guessed that I was fantasizing about having sex with you in a library?"
His eyebrows raised for the briefest of moments before he took two strides, placed his hands around her face and kissed her deeply.
"When?" he asked roughly.
"Sixth year." She pulled him in for another kiss.
He took his time then. Kissing, touching, tasting every inch of her body before he pressed her against the shelves and buried himself deep inside her.
"Did you really think about having sex with me in the library at Hogwarts?" he growled into her ear before he buried himself inside her again.
She groaned and threw her head back. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling his lips to her neck.
"I had a bad boy phase." She pulled him in for another searing kiss.
"I'm a bad boy then?"
"Hmm. The worst."
"Does that make you the innocent girl next door?"
"Of course."
He backed away from her. She moaned out loud at the sudden loss, then gasped in surprise when he turned her around to face the bookshelf.
"I hate to tell you this, Minx. But you aren't that innocent." He pushed her forward gently so that she was bent over at the waist with her hands on the book shelves. Then he drove himself into her core.
She screamed out. He stilled, worried that he had hurt her.
"Again, Draco! Don't stop!" She pressed back against him. He held her hips steady and drove into her again. And again. And again.
He didn't stop until after she screamed his name. After she came all over his cock. After he came deep inside her. Only then did he lower her down to the floor, where he kissed her gently, tenderly, lovingly.
They lay together, exhausted and completely spent for several long minutes. Suddenly, Hermione laughed and the sound rang through the room.
"I cannot believe we just did that," she laughed. "I have never done anything like that before."
"That makes it even better." Draco rubbed her back gently. "I like knowing I'm the only one that's seen this side of you."
"You're the only one that's ever bothered to look. Besides, I've wasted my whole life doing what I'm supposed to do, what's expected of me. And for what? I don't have much time left. I'm going to spend it doing what I want to do, and what I want is to be with you and to be happy while I can, when I can."
He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. To hear her talk about her life in such a way, as though, it would soon be over, made his heart clench.
"Maya," he started, but the word hung in the air between them.
She pushed herself up and propped her head up on her hand so she could look at him.
"I've been thinking about this all week. I'm not going to give up, but I can't spend every waking minute working on a solution. I can't do that anymore. I won't."
Draco reached up to push her hair back behind her ear, then pulled her down for a long, slow kiss.
"Fair enough," he told her, glad to hear that she wasn't giving up completely. "I think I need a shower."
He slowly stood up and helped her to stand beside him. She looked at him for a moment. He could practically see her thinking, trying to decide what to do next. She cocked her head to the side as she seemed to come to a decision. Then she turned and walked away from him.
He watched her go, amused when she stopped halfway down the aisle and bent to pick up the forgotten journal. She turned around and tossed the book at him. He wasn't expecting it and almost didn't catch it.
Curious, he opened the book and read the message she had written in it earlier.
"When I see you, I see the man that you are despite your past. I see the man that I'm falling in love with."
He stared at the message. His heart stopped, then pounded loud enough that he was sure she could hear it.
He looked up, wanting to say something to her. Anything.
But she was gone, and the door was closing slowly behind her.
AN: Okay. Please leave me a note to let me know ya'll are still reading. : )