Chapter 32

Hermione wanted to feel this way forever.

The speedy beating of her heart. The feeling of blood rushing to every point in her body. The buzzing, fuzzy feeling in her brain that blocked out every feeling besides the good ones. It was like danger, but better. An adrenaline rush that couldn't be touched by any of her other experiences.

Kissing Draco, his hands cradling her face while doing so, was more exhilarating than riding a dragon, or facing a three-headed dog, or trekking through the blinding white of a blizzard. It was even better, because she never knew she could feel the way she did in that moment.

She put her arms around his neck, drawing herself chest to chest with him, and he moved his hands from her face to wrap his arms around her middle. He held her to him, his heart pounding alongside her own, and the witch noting the perfect feeling of his closeness. This, paired with the softness of his lips, caused the witch to moan, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

His tongue slid against her own, gliding along her lips, sending shivers down her arms and spine, and in no time flat the witch moved into his lap to ensure the kiss continued.

Lips found their way to chins and necks. Hands gripped hair, clothes, arms, and hips. Draco's own hands found their way to the roundness of Hermione's arse, pulling her closer to him, the witch grinding down onto him, only to find a stiffness growing where they met. Here he moaned loudly into her mouth, and he pulled away from her quickly. Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"We… we should probably stop, Hermione," he said, breathless.

She took a few quick breaths of her own, studying his face, gauging him by looking into his eyes where his pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Is this like the other night?" She asked. "When you found me in the blizzard? Where you didn't kiss me because I'd been drinking?" She hadn't confirmed this with him, but she knew she'd hit it on the head by the guilt that hit his face at her questions.

"Yes," he said. "I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you. Nor do I want you to regret anything, even a kiss, tomorrow."

"Is that your only aversion?" She asked. "Your fear of my regretting you?"

"Yes," he answered, eyes intense as he stared at her. It was if her words were more than just their surface meaning. And maybe she meant it like that, meant that she wouldn't regret him, because she knew that, just like her, there were ghosts in his past that made him feel less than what he was.

"Good," she said, putting a hand to his cheek, looking him deep in the eyes as she stated, promised, "Because I won't."

She kissed him again, with purpose, to show him that despite the whiskey on their lips, she did not regret what they were doing. She did not regret him, and she would not. Draco Malfoy felt so right to her, she couldn't imagine ever regretting their kissing, or their going further than that.

His hands went into her hair instantly, using it to hold her to him as he adjusted them to where she lay on her back on the soft cushions of the couch, he atop her, his own legs between hers. Once again she could feel the bulge in his pants, though even more so now, and she shivered at the thought of what that meant.

She wanted him, and he wanted her, and that thrilled her.

As they continued to kiss, Hermione began to push his blazer from his shoulders, and with her help he was able to discard it. Then they took care of her cardigan, throwing it somewhere on the long couch next to his blazer, and he moved his kisses, sucking and licking, across her chin and down her neck, to her collarbone where he bit her lightly, down to her chest and the mounds of the top of her breasts. He paid this part extra attention, the sensations shooting straight to her core. She put her hands into his mussed hair, holding him there while she ground herself against him.

His hand came up from where it had been resting on her hip, and he pulled down the top of her dress, to just below her newly exposed breasts. She was happy she hadn't worn a bra, and was grateful for the fire and the whiskey, for they kept her warm in the cool air of the library. His mouth, which began to switch from one nipple and then the other, was an extra level of warmth that pulled loud moans from her throat and mouth, and laved her body in goosebumps. He nipped and tongued the erect buds, eliciting more noises from her, and when he added teeth she shuddered, harder than before, in his arms.

Her reaction was an indication that she enjoyed his attention to detail, that she enjoyed his work, so he trailed his hand down her body and let it slip up her dress, bunching the green fabric as he pressed his thumb against her clit through her knickers.

She gasped loudly, moaning, "Draco."

Small, tight, circular motions, in a steady rhythm, was the pattern Draco drew on her sensitive bud, simple motions engorging the flesh under the pressure, the witch trembling harder and harder, moaning louder and louder, the longer he continued to worship her breasts and clit.

All too soon removed his hand and mouth, but only to pull her knickers down her legs and throw them to the floor. He replaced his mouth on her chest, and moved his fingers to the slick wetness just below where his thumb had been. Using what he found there to coat two of his fingers, he slipped them into her to the first knuckles, the sensation teasing her in its shallowness.

Hermione wiggled her hips, and made a whining noise that she meant to sound both objecting and pleading.

It worked, for Draco took his lips from her hardened nipples and moved his body down the couch to where he lay between her legs, setting his mouth, this time, to her hardened clit.

A/N: I'm gonna be straight up honest, my dudes. I just had my second child. Even with my new IUD, sex is basically at the bottom of my list of things to do. But I was once pretty good at writing smut, so I hope these smutty/lemony chaps don't disappoint.