The Canary.
AN: Part two, a little more exciting! I promise to build more to the plot next time. This will probably never have a very seriously involved plot, though I do know how it ends already. :) Thanks and happy reading!
"That one's horrendous, don't buy it," came a voice from behind him and Draco smirked without turning around. He hadn't seen her in two weeks, not since their evening at the manor, and he was beginning to think he'd imagined it all. But here she was, this time at the Marlborough Gallery, right behind him, staring at the photo realistic painting of a nude woman, bent over, arse cheeks carefully holding an apple. Draco took a sip of his vodka (on the rocks, lemon twist) and hummed thoughtfully.
"You know, I was just thinking how nice it'd look above the fireplace at the Manor. Replace the canary with it," he murmured, sparing her a glance of her shoulder. She grinned.
"By all means, you're much more of an esthete than I," Hermione held up her hands in defeat. "Why don't you take this one home and I'll take the canary? I've got the perfect spot for it."
Turning around, Draco took all of her in. Hermione wore a smart pair of leather trousers, cropped at the ankle, and a slim fitting black sweater. The same Louboutin pumps as last time, and damn if he wasn't beginning to have a bit of a shoe fetish. It had been a long two weeks, but Draco had been wrapped up in work and new clients and trying to wrap his head around how to proceed with her. It all seemed a little sudden, didn't it, and he couldn't help but wonder if there were some ulterior motive to her sudden interest in his art, in him? He was used to it at this point, women feigning interest only to get at his fortune, to pander to his every want and need until he denied them some trinket or other, usually resulting in a relationship-ending tantrum. Hermione certainly didn't seem the type, but then did he really know her that well at all? Maybe this was all part of some elaborate revenge plot - date the old enemy, make him fall in love and then break his heart in a very public and hurtful way. Well, Draco would never let it get that far if that were the case - he'd suss it out of her before he ever dared mutter those three revered words. Hell, why was he even thinking about saying it? They'd only just kissed, for gods' sake.
"Earth to Draco," Hermione cooed and he realized he was staring. "Penny for your thoughts?" He shook his head.
"Nothing worth a penny, that's for sure," he said with a wink and it was Hermione's turn to blush. "How have you been? I'm sorry I haven't reached out - " She brushed him off with a wave of her hand.
"No worries, Draco, we only just stopped hating each other," she returned his wink. "Your glass is empty, care for another?"
"My, my, Granger, I'd almost say you were trying to get me drunk," he teased, her words from the Manor echoing back at her.
"I am," she said with a lascivious smile, linking her arm in his and dragging him towards the bar. "Come, come. We have loads to discuss." Now Draco was intrigued.
"Oh, do we?" He grabbed her hand, moving it so it rested comfortably on his arm, keeping his larger one over it. "And what exactly do we have to discuss?" Hermione fixed her amber eyes on him and there was a dangerous glint there that made things long buried stir inside of him.
"There's something I want."
oOoOo
Draco motioned to the bartender for another round. They were at the same dark and inviting bar they had been that very first night, but this time Draco had sent his driver off long ago. Hermione looked at him dejectedly, pouting into her glass of red. He realized in that moment that he hated letting her down, and he'd do anything to not have to do it, ever again.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but that just isn't enough," Draco said, sliding his card to the bartender when he returned with two fresh drinks. "I know £35,000 seems like a lot, but in this world it's chump change, unfortunately." Hermione sighed, knocking back the remnants of her first glass before starting on the second.
"I figured," she resigned, "It's just that it's all I could even get together. I know it's Damien Hirst, but I figured maybe he's not as popular anymore, maybe it wouldn't go for as much as they're thinking." She chuckled sadly. "What would I know though? I've never been to an auction before."
"Never?" Draco's brow furrowed, and suddenly he was determined. "Fuck it, let's have a go at it. I'll talk to people I know, see if there's been any interest shown already. We'll go, and we'll see how we fare, and if anything you'll at least be able to say you've done an auction at Sotheby's." The smile that he was rewarded with was totally worth spending a losing evening at the auction.
"Really," Hermione said excitedly. "You'll take me?"
"I mean, calm down, they're really not even that fun, all stuffy rich bastards like me," Draco mused, even though her smile was contagious and suddenly he was looking forward to something for the first time in months.
"I can't wait. What should I wear?"
oOoOo
Hermione was dressed smartly in a baby pink cashmere sweater dress that clung to her curves and hit just below the knee and Draco nearly lost himself. He stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to her townhome and she looked down at him like an angel. Her brown curls fell loose past her shoulders and glittering diamond studs shone in her ears. His eyes traveled slowly down her body, those legs, and came to rest on a matching pair of baby pink Louboutin's, a more demure height than the black pumps, but just as aggravatingly sexy. Her laughter broke through to him and he knew he'd been caught.
"Come on, before I change my mind and drag you inside," Hermione teased, brushing past him and into the open door of the Phantom. Draco shook his head, a pathetic attempt at clearing the pervasive naughty thoughts, and followed her into the back seat of the car.
"You'd better be careful," he said seriously, looking her over slowly once more. "Dressed like that I might let you go for the next highest bid." She laughed again, shoving him playfully.
"Oh, fuck off," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "You hardly need any more money."
"Mm, how do you think I got rich? When someone presents a good deal, I take it," he nudged her with her elbow and she shook her head. Suddenly, that glint was in her eyes again and he was nervous.
"I have a deal for you," Hermione drawled, sliding closer to him in the back seat of the car. Draco swallowed, finding it hard to stare anywhere but her lips. Her proximity was making him dizzy; the lavender scent of her was heady and intoxicating. "If we manage to buy the Hirst, you come home with me and submit to my every will. And if we don't, I go to yours and do whatever you ask of me." He could feel the soft pant of her breath against his own lips and fought back a groan.
"Seems like no matter the outcome, we both win," Draco replied, more breathless than he realized. Hermione smiled, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and he couldn't stop his groan this time.
"That's the point," and she captured his lips with her own, and Draco scrambled to put up the driver's partition window.
oOoOo
"Next, we have a piece by Damien Hirst, household gloss on canvas, starting bid £10,000, do I have ten thousand?" Draco inhaled sharply. He didn't quite see the appeal in the piece, but someone must have to put the starting bid at £10,000. He nodded at the auctioneer, and the bid went higher. Hermione shot him a glance and excited smile, reaching over to take his hand in her own and squeeze it once, tightly. She had to know it was a lost cause, but, gods, he didn't want to disappoint her.
The bids climbed higher, quickly, and Draco kept pushing. Her small hand was still wrapped in his, resting on his thigh. She was jiggling a leg nervously, her eyes darting across the room as other spurred the bids on, closer to her maximum. Draco squeezed her hand again as the bids neared £30,000. Before they knew it, someone had bid £36,000 and Hermione inhaled sharply, her grip on his hand loosening, her shoulders sinking slightly. She offered a watery smile to Draco, and he could read the defeat in her eyes, and knew it had more to do with being wrong than the painting itsself. Though a longing glance towards it and another sigh ignited a spark in Draco that he loved to fuel. As the auctioneer asked £40,000, Draco nodded again. Hermione shot him a dangerous look, her eyes widening, a sharp squeeze to his hand. She didn't have forty thousand pounds to spend on a painting.
Draco smirked. £40,000. Play-money to him. And he couldn't imagine a better thing to spend it on, than her smile when that painting was hers. Draco rejoined the bidding war, going higher and higher boredly, until others began to glance around and see who was still in the running. A few spotted him and backed down, knowing their banks would be well spent before he was even close. He hadn't been to an auction in too long, and the fire building in his belly wouldn't let him stop until it was his. Hers. At £80,000, the bidding stopped and he was called the winner.
"Draco," Hermione hissed under her breath. "We'd agreed to stop at thirty-five, I hardly see how you think I have eighty just lying around. And it will be ages before I have that sort of money to pay you back." Draco raised an eyebrow at her, and she quieted.
"You realize, £80,000 is like… £50 to me, Hermione?" She still looked confused, and he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "Consider this our first date." Hermione scoffed.
"I'm not some expensive whore," she spat out, "that you can ply with trinkets and your deep pockets." She crossed her arms and Draco yawned.
"I know," he conceded with a shrug, "which is why I chose to buy it for you. Now, can we skip the theatrics and get to the part where I submit to your every will?" She blushed prettily though there was still fire in her eyes.
oOoOo
She was going to drive him mad. Her dainty feet were resting in his lap and he swore she wiggled her toes on purpose every couple of minutes just to get his attention. Draco took one small foot in his hands at a time, rubbing the tender arch and heel, trailing his fingers up her ankle and rubbing there too. She let out a small moan and her eyes fluttered closed and this was not what he'd had in mind when he'd agreed to be her ever loyal servant for the evening.
"Where did you say you got it from again," Hermione asked, breaking through his distracted thoughts of what would happen if he went further up her slender legs.
"What," he asked stupidly. He hadn't been paying attention to whatever she'd been saying for ten minutes now.
"The Canary," Hermione said with a soft chuckle. "Where did you get that piece from again?"
Draco exhaled. "It's a family heirloom. On my mother's side, the Black's. We're not sure when exactly it came into our possession, but I've had it appraised and it seems to be a Northern Renaissance piece. Probably around the 1450s, or so." She listened raptly. "The artist is also unknown, so I'm not quite sure if it's magical or muggle. I've never noticed anything peculiar about it so I'm thinking muggle. A part of me likes to dream that maybe one of my ancestors was its creator, but we've always been more of the type to appreciate the arts than partake." Hermione hummed her approval, pulling one foot from his hands and replacing it with the other. Draco laughed.
"Not exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to be your slave," he mused, shaking her ankle lightly.
"No?," Hermione asked. Her toes skimmed over the placket of his trousers with more intent than before and he shot her a heated look. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" She was toying with him and he bit back a growl of frustration.
"I'm not quite sure you want me to share that," he said, his voice low and tinged with something dangerous. He had been such a gentleman, had shown such restraint this entire time, but he was beginning to lose his composure at her teasing touches and playful kisses. A heavy silence weighed between them.
"I'd like to repay you," Hermione spoke after a long minute. "For the painting." She pulled her legs from his lap and stood.
"We've already discussed this," he murmured, unable to help himself from watching her hips as she came to stand in front of him. "It was a gift; that doesn't require any sort of repayment."
"Well, then," Hermione said quietly, kneeling before him, "I'd like to give you something as well." She settled between his parted legs, her long-fingered hands reaching for the buckle of his leather belt. Something in his brain snapped.
His larger hands grasped her own, and she looked up at him questioningly. "You don't have to do this."
Hermione smirked to rival his own, her fingers slipping from his grasp and sliding the belt from its clasp. She flicked the button of his trousers open easily and pushed his dress shirt a few inches up his stomach, revealing a faint trail of hair there. "But I want to."
The caress of her breath made his abdomen clench with anticipation and he watched as she lowered his zipper, lifting his hips so she could shove his pants and trousers down his hips in one go. He was half hard from her gaze alone, and she leaned forward, giving his length a slow lick with the flat of her tongue, before sucking the head into her mouth. His mouth fell open, his eyes shut. It had been longer than he'd like to admit. She bobbed up and down along his cock, his fingers tangling in her curls in an encouraging manner. She peered up at him through her lashes, admiring the handsome furrow of concentration in his brow. She could tell he was holding himself off.
She exhaled hard through her nose, sinking her mouth further on his cock until she reached its base, her throat clenching around it before pulling away entirely, an thin string of saliva between it and her bottom lip.
"Gods," Draco inhaled sharply, and she continued sucking him off enthusiastically. The pounding in his head became louder as she went down on him, gagging around him. The noises she was making were driving him insane. He watched her work her mouth over him in amazement, watched her hollowed cheeks and reddened lips. Her hands slid up on her own thighs, drawing her dress high on her hips until he could see black lace panties beneath her nude stockings. One of her hands found her core, rubbing anxiously at her clit through the layers.
"Do you like this, Granger," he spoke lowly, one hand tightening in her curls almost enough to cause pain. She looked up at him with questioning brown eyes, but didn't release him from her mouth. "Playing with yourself like the filthy little whore that you actually are. Look at you, on your knees for me, drooling all over my fat cock." Her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure at the the echo of her earlier words and Draco inhaled again, almost cursing his good luck. He shoved her down on his length and she moaned around him; he could feel the vibrations in his spine.
"You teased me all night, you slut," he whispered, thrustingslowly into her mouth, relishing in every contraction of her throat around him. "All I could think about was bending you over in those pink heels, in front of all of those rich, old toffs and showing them who you belonged too." She moaned again, her hand rubbing insistently, her hips grinding against her own fingers. He pulled her off of him with an audible pop, her breathing ragged. "You're mine."
"Yours," she breathed, almost trance-like as he pumped his cock with his free hand, once, twice, three times before he came in ropy spurts over her face. He sucked in deep breaths, watching as her tongue drew along her bottom lip, capturing his essence that had landed there. He was completely gone.
oOoOo