Chapter Twenty-Five: The After Effect
For the third night in a row, Draco opened the window of his bedroom and grabbed his broom in his hand. He'd dressed warmly even though it was rather hot out on that night because he knew that the whipping wind would cool him down considerably. Without hesitating, he jumped up on the sill of his window and mounted the hovering broom as he began his flight.
It was like a dance for him, weaving through the night air, feeling the breeze on his face. He gained speed and then turned to fly straight up into the air. He shot up as far and fast as he dared before turning straight back around again to fly vertically towards the ground. He brought himself back up just before hitting the ground so that the tips of his expensive leather trainers almost hit the ground. He thought he could do better and tried again, this time allowing himself to get low enough to actually touch the ground with his hand before coming back up again.
Satisfied, he cut back up and zoomed through the night air, making his way to the towers. It was a fun game of his, flying at full speed and avoiding all of the towers as he maneuvered around them.
As he flew he reflected on his building confusion. Ever since the incident with Heather the fifth year he couldn't bring himself to go at it again. He'd let a couple girls relieve him, of course. I mean, it was necessary to his health still. But he couldn't find it in him to get intimate enough with them. Not only was he afraid of repeating the mistake (which he'd almost done again once), but he was afraid of what it would mean if he did.
Every time he saw the Gryffindor had become strenuous. He found himself eyeing her subconsciously during class periods. He even found it difficult to avoid "accidentally" bumping into her in the halls.
As the wind whipped through his platinum hair, he convinced himself that he was going crazy. He was just going through an awful lot at the moment, and he couldn't help but be a little interested in that memory of the past few months.
Again convincing himself that he was a little off, he ignored the glint of something shining in the corner of his eye. He continued to weave around the roofs of the castle for a few minutes, but then glanced back over to the Astronomy Tower and realized that he hadn't been fooling himself.
There she was, the very object of all his confusion, looking out across the grounds from the highest peak of the castle.
He swooped down stealthily and came up behind her.
"Well isn't this a lovely surprise?" he said when he was only a couple feet behind her. She gasped loudly and turned around to face him.
"Holy hell, Malfoy, what is your bloody problem, coming up on a person like that! I could've died! I could've fallen off the sodding tower!" she chided him.
"And wouldn't that have made me the luckiest boy alive?" he articulated smarmily.
"Ugh, you're so terrible. Forget it, I'm leaving." She turned to leave. He watched the fabric of her black silky night dress flow around her body enchantingly before bidding her to stop.
"What is it Malfoy?" she huffed, standing just in front of the stone archway that led to the staircase.
He stepped closer to her and let his eyes roam all over her body.
"Malfoy?" she demanded, but her voice held a hint of dreaminess to it.
A frantic sensation passed through his body, and before he knew what he was doing, he found himself pressing against her small frame as the soft wind blew wistfully through her hair.
"Ugh, Malfoy, what are you doing? Get off me," she said, trying to sound disgusted but not able to hide the hint of satisfaction in her voice.
"Granger, you're so bloody prudish, you know that?" he sneered as he shoved off her. What had he been thinking?
"No, Malfoy, you're an arrogant asshole," she bit back. Her honeyed eyes caught the moonlight sensuously and with a hint of fire that Draco was intrigued by.
"Maybe I am, but you love me," he pinned her against the column again, whispering in her ear. He felt a tremble come from her body, and he thought of how cold she must be with that nightgown on. His eyes glanced down subconsciously and he licked his lips lustfully when he saw the two ripe fleshes covered in small goose bumps. He ran a finger along the line of her bust, toying with the texture that her shivers provided.
"I hate you," she whispered back, somehow sounding convincing and unconvincing at the same time. Or maybe, he just wanted her to sound unconvincing.
"I hate you too, Granger," he said, letting his hot breath fill her left ear and cause even more goose bumps to form all along her whole left side.
"Then why are you – ahhhh – doing – mmmmmn – this?" she asked as he began to take her earlobe in between his teeth and nibble at it softly.
Why was he doing this? He tried to think of a logical reason, but the only thing coming to his head was 'Why hadn't he done this in so long?' He slid his tongue out a bit to tousle the soft flesh and received a moan of satisfaction. Accompanied, however, was a slap to the face.
"Ow! You fucking whore, what was that for!?" he yelped in pain and surprise. Pushing himself off her, she was now free to fold her arms in front of her (she didn't know it, but this caused Draco to notice even more intently the orbs of skin that were barely covered).
"I did it because you're trying to seduce me!" she accused.
"Trying to – what the bloody hell? I'm not trying to anything!" he sneered.
"Hah, right," she scoffed at him. "Then what was that?" she waved her hand to indicate the moment before.
"That was – I was," he began to search for an excuse. One didn't come in time.
"I've got a boyfriend, Malfoy. And I hate you because you're an arrogant bastard," she told him rather arrogantly herself.
"Boyfriend, right," he laughed. "Ron Weasley, tell me, how's he in bed?"
"Shut up you – you – "
"You insufferably sexy god?" Draco grinned.
"No, you insufferably cocky little – "
"Well Granger it's hard not to be cocky when I've such a big – "
"Ugh, you're disgusting!"
"You want me so badly," he brought his voice down to a hiss as he pressed her against the hard stone again.
"I – do – not," she struggled under him.
"Oh yeah?" he cocked his eye brow challengingly. Not that she could see this, because it was quite dark outside.
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly.
"Then why are you letting me do this?" he asked before sending his hand deftly up her skirt and pressing his fingers on her, with only her thin cotton underwear between his hand and herself. She moaned in pleasure and her head rolled back against the wall.
Draco noted fleetingly that he'd never done this to her before. Strangely, they'd skipped over the stepping stones. It didn't change anything, though, and as he pressed his fingers harder he breathed faster and faster. He could feel wetness through her thin panties and he was anxious to feel it without anything in between. He tried to steady his breathing, though. As he took a deep breath in, he inhaled the scent of her honey shampoo that lingered like a halo around her head.
"Malfoy," she moaned. Then she did it again. Then a third time, more sternly. The fourth time it was accompanied by a hand on his wrist.
She pulled him away from her and put his hand at his side. "Don't," she said vaguely.
He licked his lips in frustration and stepped back from her. "You're such a bloody tease," he said bitterly.
"No, Malfoy, I just have morals. I remember you once saying that there was nothing wrong with that."
"Well bloody hell, Hermione, I was under a love potion. I would say anything," he argued. He didn't even notice the use of her first name, something he hadn't done in months.
She scoffed at him again. It was ironic, because scoffing was supposed to be his thing. "Great to know that all of that was a farce."
"Of course it was a fucking farce, Granger. Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said. "You were under the same potion, nothing you did was real, either."
"I'd like to think that I meant some of it," she said indignantly.
"Yeah?" he asked. "Like which parts?"
"I don't know – " she looked down at her feet. He knew immediately what she was thinking, although he didn't know how. He realized just then how strange it must be for her to have lost her virginity to him, her sworn enemy, while under a love potion.
"I have to go," he said suddenly. He was feeling very sick all of the sudden. Without saying anything else, he picked up his broom and set it to flight, leaving her on a gust of wind.
Hermione'd had no real intentions for going up to the Astronomy Tower that night. She'd wanted to think, of course, but one as intelligent as her could argue that thinking could be accomplished in her own room just as well as it could up in the heights of the tower. Nevertheless, when she'd left her room that night instinctively, she didn't even bother to put on a coat or shoes. She let herself wander to the tower, thinking on her way there and thinking after she'd reached her destination.
Things with Ron were getting worse. Every time she kissed him, she felt a pang of guilt inside of her. Of course, this made absolutely no sense, because why should she feel guilty for doing the right thing? And being with Ron was most definitely the right thing.
They still argued. Not like before, but they did. Over little things. And every time they had a disagreement, Hermione felt like things were more and more corrupted between them. Like there was something there that really should not have been there at all.
She'd gotten to the point where she didn't even like to look at him anymore. Not that she'd particularly enjoyed it before, but now it was practically painful. With his freckles and his mop of red hair, and that goofy smile. He was such a child.
Hermione never felt secure with him. She couldn't find a place where she felt safe in his arms, or a comfort in his existence. He was just too immature, too… well, too inexperienced. He'd never had a relationship before, other than Lavender, which could hardly be called a relationship. He didn't understand the way things worked. He thought that it was just snogging all the time, and no talking or bonding or –
Well, with Malfoy, where was the bonding? she asked herself.
"Of course all we did was snog, we were under a potion for Merlin's sake," she ranted out loud.
But back then, you'd actually wanted to snog, the voice in her head brought up a good point. And don't blame it on the sodding potion, because you very well know that there's no difference.
"But there is a difference," she argued with herself. "Of course there's a difference between Ron's sloppy eel of a tongue and Malfoy's – wait," she stopped herself. "What am I saying?"
You're saying that you miss him, her brain told her.
Ugh, shut up Hermione, no you don't.
At that point, a particularly cold and strong gust of wind blew at her. She shivered and held her bare shoulders, trying to rub away the bumps that had formed on her skin.
That was when he came up behind her.
She didn't mean to let him control her like she had. She really didn't want him pressing his lean muscular body on hers, securely pinning her to the wall in a dominant, rather insinuatingly. Really. She didn't like it one bit when he kissed her ear so tenderly, causing her to shiver with delight and a small amount of pain that came from the light tickling. She definitely didn't feel like her whole universe was falling into place when he'd touched her in a place that he'd never been before. That no one had ever been before, as a matter of fact.
No, the whole experience had been very unlikable indeed. Very, very unlikable.
Why, then did she let him do it? Why did she melt at the press of his body against hers? Why did she turn to butter under his hands?
What bloody was it about him that made him so undeniably irresistible? Why was it that, no matter how wrong it was, she really didn't want him to stop. Not one bit.
She'd wanted him to argue with her. To insult her like he always did, in his usual way that she'd become accustomed to, and then to ravish her like he'd been doing before.
She wanted it, oh God, she wanted it badly.
And then he left, just like that.
What in Merlin's beard was the boy thinking?
Was he feeling the same way?
And what way would that be, Hermione? She asked herself.
"Oh sod off – fine," she gave in. "Does the slimy git miss me like I miss him?"