Chapter 29

On an exhale, Draco woke. For a moment, he didn't know where he was and the dream he'd just woken from still had a grip on him. It took a moment for him to clear his head.

Through closed eyes, he listened to the noise of someone pottering. Granger.

His body was on fire and he lifted the blankets off him, but not too much. After effects.

Cool air met his bare torso and he hoped it would calm things down.

The clink of a spoon. She was making tea. He grumbled, feeling it reverberate through his throat.

"Are you going to get up anytime soon?" she asked.

"Nope." Certainly not with what was going on under his blanket.

"Potions is on in ten minutes."

"You'd better get going then." Finally he opened his eyes. Granger was dressed in her uniform. The image of their kiss fleeted into his mind, but he pushed it away. But no, response down below. Wonderful. Because what he really, really, really wanted right now was for her to suck him off in the shower. Soft lips, total rush. She'd deck him if he said so.

Walking over, she stood with her hand on her hip, holding her mug to tea. "So what? You're going to lie on the sofa all day?"

Should he admit he was just about to go have a wank in the shower as soon as she was gone? At times his life felt like a series of thoughts and impulses he wondered if he should admit or not. Like, "Hey, I'd like to fuck you." Wouldn't go down well. But then, what lurked in Granger's head that she wouldn't admit to? It couldn't be prudish disapproval all the time.

At least she had through of him as a sexual being, at least once. The challenge had dragged that confession out of her, kicking and screaming.

"You'd better get out of here," he said and she raised one eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed. "Or you will see the state of me after a particularly riveting dream."

With a disgusted snort, she relented and walked away, grabbing her bag and heading out the door. Good, because this wasn't going to go away without being tended to.

You'd figure the state he was in, he couldn't be ready to be in class a mere five minutes after it started, but showering had literally not taken more than a minute. Not after his mind had replayed the scene it had concocted earlier.

"So wonderful you are still here to join us," Professor Slughorn said wryly, like he did every time Malfoy had any reason to call attention to himself, as if the man was still living in hope Draco would have the decency to remove himself from the school at the earliest opportunity. The man's opinion of him was never going to change.

Draco distinctly avoided looking in Granger's eyes. The last thing he wanted right now was her pity. She knew how people treated him. For a while, he'd forgotten, had been so wrapped up in the relationship between them that all others had been pushed out. In a way, they had been in a little bubble where their contentious pecking held an increasingly strong undercurrent—one she wouldn't admit.

Class was boring, but at least it was active and they quietly worked on brewing the potion of the day. Draco had some advantage over her here, because he'd done this stuff last year—she hadn't. But one never knew what she'd come across in her relentless quest for knowledge. Still, that relentlessness hadn't returned. She was still spurning the library. In a way, she had given up the person she had been, but hadn't quite decided who she was going to be. Was even considering giving up being a witch—although not enough to walk away. Deep down, she wasn't ready to walk away.

When potions was finally over, she grabbed her things and left, as did Draco so to avoid giving Slughorn further chance to depart his opinion. The man couldn't seem to help himself.

The halls were busy and along the way, he passed some fifth year with his tongue deep down the throat of a girl, completely lost to the rest of the world. Then he passed that Hufflepuff, Leanne, who gossips said was already pregnant. She didn't look at him as he walked past, instead had a long look in her eyes as if she was somewhere else, her hand resting on her belly. That rumour was probably true.

Around him, bodies moved and shifted, touched and flirted. Everywhere around him, thick and heavy energy. It was inescapable. Even in the library, where he sat down and just stared into space for a while. His focus was shot. With Granger not here, he finally noticed that he'd been aware of her the whole time they'd been in potions. He was aware of her all the time. And funnily, the library was the only place she wouldn't come.

He had another class, muggle studies, which was the only class that was mandatory for only certain people. Granger wasn't in it. In fact, seventh year muggle studies was a rather small class, made up mostly by unwilling Slytherins. It was its own form of torture. As unpleasant as most things were, the Slytherins were probably who he had to be most wary of—and Potter. Either situation could go off at any time.

After two hours of torture listening to the cultural implications of muggle veneration of musicians and celebrities, he'd had enough of people and of being wary. The apartment was a retreat, particularly as Granger wasn't there. He actually knew her schedule, and she wasn't in class, which meant she was probably hanging with her self-absorbed friends.

He tried to sleep for a while lying down on the sofa, but the heavy energy didn't leave him alone there either. Mostly he just ended up staring at the ceiling. Close his eyes and the energy surged. He just wanted to be touched. Although he refused to entertain it, that image of him and Granger kissing still lingered in the back of his mind.

A shushing sound as she walked in. "That stupid eagle has been pestering me," she said as she walked in. "I'm not your relay. Go sort your mail out. It obviously wants to give you something."

Draco found he didn't care. His father, mother, or whoever wanted to get in touch with him, he didn't care. There was nothing interesting or useful they could add.

"Stupid thing would probably just claw me anyway," she grumbled and dropped her bag. "You didn't come to dinner."

"Not hungry," he said.

"Seriously, I'm starting to wonder if you are growing roots to that sofa. You really seem to like it. Sure you don't want to sleep there permanently?" she asked. "I won't be offended."

No, he wanted the bed. Large bed, nice, crisp white sheets. So much… potential. Draco closed his eyes.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked. Stepping over, she shoved his foot with her knee. "You ill?"

"Don't touch me," he said.

Crossing her arms, she did that terse stare. "And why not?"

"I might like it." Way more than she bargained for. Because he still remembered the thrill of running his finger down inside her panties. That was the wrong thing to bring up right now, just as he was lying there, watching her.

Thick, choking terseness immediately flared and she stepped back. Maybe she had seen in his eyes where his mind had been.

Sitting up sharply, he drew his hands through his hair and let his head hang for a while. He was inescapably attracted to Granger right now. But somehow, he'd managed to shut her up, because she stood awkwardly and said nothing. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Silence again. "I am making a cup of tea. If you ask nicely, I would consider making you one."

For a moment, he couldn't formulate a response to this. Was she actually being nice? "Please." He said it partially just to break this awkwardness, but he ended up lying back again and watch her as she pottered around the kitchen, boiling water, getting the tea bags out of the cupboard, resolutely ignoring him. She knew better than to bait this bear.

He'd just won the war, he recognised. His desire had her in full retreat, because she feared it. Now wasn't that funny? Or had he lost? It did feel like loss. This felt powerful. He felt powerful. And also free, in a sense. Not sure how. Maybe that is an instinct he would study later.

Again, not really engaging with him, she brought the cup of tea over and handed it to him, her finger in the ear, exactly where his finger needed to go. "Here you go," she said overly brightly. His finger slid over hers in the ear of the cup and he trapped her there. She burned red. Oh, she was fully aware of the energy between them. There was no doubt.

Putting the cup to side, he rose suddenly. "My turn." With his hand at her cheek, his fingers at her neck, he drew her into a kiss. Contact felt like release. The energy flowed, through him into her. Soft lips molding to his, the warm, the taste, the luscious softness. Her half-sigh. All these things tingled along his nerves. Her body soft, now pressed to his. He dove deeper into her mouth, wanting more, his tongue stroking hers.

She tasted like heaven. Honey and sunshine. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire. His lungs burned for air, but he didn't care. This was more important than air.

As the kiss broke, he didn't let go of her. She was flush against him, her breasts pressed to him. Her eyes were both shocked and lost, and they were both simply still. She didn't know what to do—he could see the indecision in her eyes, because some part of her wanted this.

Leaning his head forward again, his lips stroked hers. She came to him this time and they submerged in the sticky, languid rush of a kiss yet again. The energy flowed freely and his arms pulled her even closer, then twisted them down onto the sofa. Her breath was heavy and deep as he broke the kiss, and just lingered on the feeling of lying with her, cradled by her body. His hand was on her thigh, feeling the warm solidness of her.

She was caught in this too, but the need was too strong, too driving for him to actually think about it. He needed to be inside her. If she said no now, it might actually do him harm. Tension was so severe, it hurt. Truthfully, he wasn't thinking, this was all instinct. Somehow in the fumbling urgency, he managed to free himself, and to clear whatever impediment was in the way. Might have torn it. Didn't know, didn't care.

A sharp stillness descended as he pushed into her. Her eyes were wide and searching his. Her mouth a soft circle as she gasped. Every muscle in his body shook with tension, but the sensation of drew him down, away from conscious thought into a state of simply feeling. Her around him. Her ground to her. Truthfully he had no control over this. It had simply claimed him and he was just being let by something that knew exactly what it wanted.

She groaned again and the sound reverberated through his entire existence. He ground into her again and again, driven by the pleasure and of hearing her. Her hips met him, they moved in unison.

It overtook him, the rush, the building tension, which culminated and then released. It was utterly exquisite, wave after wave, draining every ounce of the energy.

The intensity dissipated slowly and he lay heavily on her, completely unable to make any part of his languid body move. Truthfully, he couldn't make his brain move either. It refused to think.

"Fuck," she said and he smiled into her shoulder, where his ragged breath bounced off her skin. "Fuck," she repeated. She didn't push him away. They simply lay there, still entangled. If she didn't push him away, he was going to grow hard again, but he was going to leave it up to her to choose.

A/N Yep. So that happened. Just letting you know, that my book, Marbella Nights, under author name Shel Stone is free on Amazon this weekend. Download a copy if you wish.