Chapter Twelve

Want

Six days.

They hadn't spoke in six days.

Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

Today it was Saturday, exactly a week since their engagement party where they'd made front page news, their faces splattered on the cover. It appeared that the magical world couldn't get enough of them, the only couple officially out. Merlin, if they only knew how shattered they were at present.

Draco felt defeated. He felt dejected. Most importantly, he felt… confused. All he could remember from the night was her asking him to kiss her and before it even got good, she was freaking out. He was too stunned from the abrupt absence of her body under him to react. It was almost as if he blinked and she had vanished. He did what any warm blooded male would do, he promptly drowned his rejection in Firewhisky in hopes of blacking out and removing the events from memory. He vaguely remembered drunkenly making his way outside into the gardens and must've stripped himself of his shirt because he also remembered the feel of the dewy grass against his bare back as he tried to get lost in one of the only things that bought him any semblance of clarity. The stars. He assumed a house elf found him knocked out and apparated him to his room as, come morning, he found himself hungover in his bedroom, in nothing but his trouser from the previous night. Not exactly the expected end to his engagement celebrations.

Currently, he was sat in Blaise's lounge at Zabini Estate, unwilling to go home to the manor with the the threat of running into Granger looming as she'd be staying seeing as it was Saturday. She'd agreed with his mother ahead of the engagement that she'd be staying every Tuesday, Thursday and weekend. And she came every day that she was supposed to and didn't stay a second longer. When she was there, she opted to stay in her room at all times, going as far as asking the elves to bring her meals to her. He almost felt bad for her.

Bizarrely, Luna Lovegood was sat on the same leather sofa as Blaise, though on the other side as she vehemently scribbled on a piece of parchment. She was truly in her own world that one. Draco had come to accept that she'd just be… there. On most occasions that he'd found himself here, she was also. Draco just viewed her as a piece of furniture at this point, she didn't really speak to him unless spoken to and he tried to do as little as that as possible. Truth be told, the peculiar girl unnerved him, she was just too unpredictable for his liking, from the things she'd randomly say, to her baffling fashion sense. Her fashion sense was an extreme contrast to Blaise's impeccable dressing. Even Draco was envious of Blaise's suave style. But when Theo had mocked Luna for her clothing one evening in the privacy of their trio, Blaise had immediately shut him down and defended the blonde witch. Draco had always imagined Blaise would end up with some stunning, probably foreign, supermodel looking girl. Yet, the fates had deigned the complete opposite. Though, perhaps he would be happier for it. Then he thought, the matches were a load of bollocks so maybe not, especially with the rate he and Hermione were going. Draco took a gulp of his drink at the thought. He hated how everything came back to her.

"Is she still not talking to you?", Blaise asked rather randomly causing Draco to scrunch his face and furrow his brows.

"What makes you think that?", his retort dripping with sarcasm, not even needing to clarify.

"That's the fifth Firewhisky you've had since you've been here. Merlin knows how much you've had before you arrived", the Italian raised a knowing yet judgemental brow at him and he rolled his eyes as his neck snapped back and he looked up at the roof, at the chandelier that laid there.

"I'm only bothered because I don't know why she's pissed at me", he retaliated, not needing his critical eye on him.

"I highly doubt the answer is at the bottom of that Firewhisky bottle", Blaise quipped in response. Draco sighed at the words and lifted his head up as he replied.

"Probably not. But I think it'd be best to check!", he suggested with a smirk as he tipped the glass in Blaise's direction before downing the contents, relishing in the burn he felt cascade down his throat. He began to wonder how the fuck they were going to work in the long run. She infuriated him, confused him and she was the cause of his overindulging in alcohol at present. But she also made him laugh, made him think and made him question his moral and ethics. Something not many could attest to. She even made him smile. His lip involuntarily curled in disgust at the thought as he shook his head clearing himself of the thought before his glass was getting refilled with a wave of his hand.

His only plans for the evening were drink as much as he could stomach and try and erase her face from his memory. And the taste of her lips. And the feel of her body under his. Merlin, maybe one bottle wasn't going to be enough.

-xXx-

Hermione was sat on her huge bed at the manor unable to sleep so she had some work spread around her as she sat in a baggy T-shirt and flannel shorts. She'd asked Narcissa on the Thursday prior if she'd be able to bring her cat Crookshanks to the manor on the weekend as she felt terrible leaving him alone for so much time. Of course Narcissa had no issue with it, a relief to Hermione as truthfully she'd wanted him here for a semblance of comfort. However, she'd been sorely wrong because immediately Crookshanks ran out her grasp and had been lost for hours. No doubt he was doing the exploring that she secretly longed to do. No, she'd stay within the security that these four walls bought her. Security of not having too see or talk or interact with Malfoy.

Instead she was sat reading a report in regard to the Centaur Vs Wilkinthrop case. She hoped she'd never meet the despicable man in fear she'd act out on the disgust he evoked from her. He'd been suspected of murdering a whole centaur herd. Well, not actively but he'd definitely orchestrated the events, taking innocent lives for his own capital gain. She hated people like that. People who had money signs and greed in the place of their moral compass. The worst part is, justice was unlikely with the current evidence. It'd be dismissed as hearsay and insubstantial evidence.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed and entirely hopeless, Hermione flopped backward, her back hitting the soft silk sheets and hers eyes started following the pattern of trimming across the ceiling as she thought, idly. She didn't miss her apartment, truthfully, she found it suffocating. Not to mention the fact she'd only find slumber once her mind could no longer withhold the battering insomnia. She suspected she slept with ease at the manor as her body would take night terrors over the living the nightmare she was currently breathing in. She rolled her eyes at her own dramatic thoughts.

Hermione hadn't told anyone about the events that transpired six days ago. About the fact she'd asked Malfoy to kiss her. Or the fact she completely freaked out. She wasn't sure which confession would mortify her more and she couldn't share one without the other. No, she would simply keep it to herself. Even if it was eating away at her to the point she was itching at the fingertips to tell somebody.

Abruptly Hermione rose from the bed before she stood and began to pace, the floor cool even under her fluffy sock clad feet. She did everything to avoid Malfoy just for her actions to consume her thoughts whenever she had a second spare to think.

But suddenly all thoughts within her mind promptly evaporated. For the first time ever, there was a knock at her door.

Mustering all her Gryffindor courage, she inhaled deeply before making her way to the door, her fingers wringing before her. After she'd taken 8 steps, the knock repeated, this time more hurried and almost.. frantic?

She increased her pace and once she reached the door, her hand rested on the door handle, debating whether or not she truly wanted to see the person on the either side. Her gut was telling her who the knock belonged to and she knew her gut was rarely wrong. And who else would pester her at 1am? Turning around, she allowed her back to rest against the wood of the door, all the while her hand remained on the metal handle.

"What do you want?", she asked with closed eyes, anticipating with bated breath hearing his voice for the first time in what felt so long. It was so crazy to her, before this law she'd gone years without his voice but now seven days, as it was passed 12, felt like eons.

"How did you know it was me?", there is was. His smooth voice consumed her as she exhaled, his voice felt like it was reverberating through the wood and into her very being. One kiss and now she was whipped. She revolted herself. This was bloody Malfoy. The reminder didn't do much to dwindle her thoughts. Annoyingly. If there wasn't but a piece of wood separating them, albeit ornate, she would've groaned in disgust.

"Who else would it be?", she quipped, her neck tilting so half her face lay against the door as well.

"I don't know. How many men do you have knocking at your door?", his reply caused her brows to furrow in confusion, a frown marring her forehead.

"Whose asking?", if he wanted to joke, she could do the same!

"Your fiancé", Hermione froze. Her eyes widened, her heart stopped beating and her fingers gripped the handle of the door tighter, her knuckles blanched.

"What do you want?", Hermione repeated her initial like of enquiry, as her heart restarted its pumping but at a hugely increased pace.

"Open the door and find out", the second Hermione heard the reply, her body reacted before her brain had time to digest the words. Her hand on the handle pushed down and stepped away as the door swung toward her. Draco looked uncharacteristically disheveled, but there he stood, his shirt loosened at the collar and a strand of his usually perfectly styled hair flopped onto his forehead.

"You're drunk", she stated, no question necessary as it was the only explanation as to why he wasn't displaying his usual pristine self.

"A bit", he shrugged. There was a certain aloofness about him that made her uncomfortable. He was even more unpredictable than usual.

Then she realised his eyes were lingering on her thighs, where her shirt met leg, her shorts too short to be seen below her oversized tee. "What are you doing here, Draco?", she asked, her tone not betraying how daunt she felt at present. She was irked by his gaze until his gaze snapped up to meet hers. Now his gaze unnerved her.

"Say it again", he instructed before elaborating when her face scrunched in confusion. "My name, say it again", he stepped toward her and she remained rooted to the ground. Frustratingly.

"Draco", her voice came out more breathlessly than intended due to the fluster initiated by his proximity as he approached her, the tip of his shoes practically touching her fluffy socks.

"Like music to my fucking ears", his whisper was against her own ear. His breath a caress against her neck. This had gone on far enough, she stepped back, however, before she could even blink, Malfoy's hand had gripped her bicep, the force halting her in her tracks. "Let's make some music", he raised a brow with a smirk, as if posing a challenge.

Immediately, Hermione's mind went to places of panic. Surely he didn't mean…

But then a loud crack echoed throughout her head, erasing all those sinful thoughts from her mind. She was side apparating and as her feet touched the ground, air rushed through her lungs.

Immediately, she ripped her arm from his grasp, "You can't apparate me without telling me!", she snapped, already showing symptom of her usual headache that came with apparating.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, "Apologies, my lady",he walked backward and Hermione took in her surroundings. The huge french windows, the white stone walls, the lavish chandeliers and the biggest giveaway, the self portrait that hung above the lit fireplace. They were in Narcissa's personal parlour. She thanked Merlin the matriarch was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione crossed her arms in annoyance, "What are we doing here?", she asked exasperatedly.

"Granger..", Draco annoyingly started before halting his speech.

"What?", she was impossibly ignoring the urges that were telling her to kick up a fuss. He was drunk, she had to remind herself over and over.

"I've already told you!", he rolled his eyes at her. As if she were bloody dense! But before she could retort he slipped his hand into hers and pulled her. "We're going to make music!", he announced with a smile baring all his teeth, a smile unlike any he'd ever bestowed upon her. She was utterly speechless.

He stopped before the glistening piano, still in pristine condition despite not being used for so many years. With a flick of his wand, the lip propped open as he slid onto the piano bench with fluid ease. "Sit", Draco instructed as he patted the space beside him on the bench. It was big enough of the two of them, yet she still hesitated before sitting nowhere near as elegantly as he had.

Hermione took a second to marvel at this moment. She recalled his mother's accolade for his skills and how she'd be lucky if he ever played for her. The moment had come, she thought as his fingers caressed the keys without pressing down. "When's the last time you played?", Hermione asked, finally speaking after so long.

"I- I don't know", he replied almost soberly with a frown, "too long", he exhaled, eyes darting along the keys. For the first time, he didn't look confident in himself and, despite herself, she felt like deflecting his obvious discomfort.

"I could play?", she offered, sensing his uneasiness. He nodded as his hands gestured with flourish at the keys.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione's fingers deftly pressed down on the first chord, her whole body surging into it. And then her fingers were moving with the muscle memory of her teenage years. Playing with her mother. She poured her heart into the notes of Beethoven's Für Elise. The first song piece she'd learnt. The piece she knew back to front and had played an uncountable amount of times. For a moment it was just her, the keys and memories of her mother. All her worries were at bay. Until she was snapped out of her thoughts and plummeted back to earth by the addition of deeper notes. To her left Draco's fingers were swiftly working the keys, but there was a distinct difference in their abilities. His playing was utterly effortless, fingers moving with grace as he caressed the piano to release a perfectly blended tune.

She was transfixed as he ran his fingers lightly over the keys in legato play, the notes smooth and connected. Her own hands had stopped their ministrations as she fully admired Draco in that moment. It was truly a moment .

As the perfect notes hit her ears, she was bewitched by the beauty of the fingers dancing across the ivory keys. The stray, blonde strand of hair bobbing on his forehead with each slight nod of his head as he played, his passion exuding as he shifted across the bench in accordance to the piece all the while his effortless fingers coaxed impossibly soothing and beautiful melodies from it.

As he started the next section of the piece, his confidence had been restored fully whilst Hermione's heart pound faster. The sound grew louder and she could feel the vibrations tingling along her ears, her skins and through her blood. As the volume increased and the climax was reached, the flawless melody was perfectly compatible with the sound of her heart beat.

The crescendo was an immaculate experience, in that moment all she could see was him. Everything around was a blur, a transcending experience as all her new memories of him blurred together and flashed through her. Dancing with him at their ball, sitting on their bench as he pointed out the stars, the way he played with the children at the orphanage and even the small things like his interest in her work, his witty retorts, the way he always tried to make her comfortable in his high class life and most importantly, his surprising utter acceptance of her.

She was truly enraptured by the man that sat by her side and how he'd evoked such emotion from her just by the music he'd played.

She had to admit maybe, just maybe, she had feelings for Draco bloody Malfoy.

-xXx-

Finally, after the exhausting experience, as the last beautiful note hit and the resonance filled. Draco took a breath of air. A relief it were over but a longing to play more. "Why did you stop playing?", he asked the witch at his side, turning to face her. He'd felt her stare throughout the whole duration of his playing. "I'm sorry if it was sloppy, I haven't played in so long…", he trailed off before he was assaulted. Assaulted by her kiss. Hermione was kissing him again.

He'd come home drunk with the only achievement of his drinking being that she was the only thing that consumed his thoughts. His intention had been to simply speak to her. Not to kiss her! And certainly not to play the piano. One of his arms snaked round her waist as her own arms encircled his neck, clasped at the back, as he met her kiss with just as much force. But then he ripped apart from her, his forehead resting against hers as his eyes remained shut. "We shouldn't", his voice a whisper, "I can't think straight", he admitted as his hand on her waist squeezed in emphasis.

''Me neither", Granger admitted and she sighed against his cheek, the breath tantalising his skin. "How much did you drink? You taste like a brewery", he groaned at the breathless words.

"A lot", he clarified, his mind swirling with thoughts of her taste. She tasted of spearmint and, well, clean. He was tainting her.

"I have no idea how you played so well with so much alcohol in your system", he felt her forehead scrunch up as she spoke still against his own and he chuckled, the noise coming from deep in his throat.

"Many, many hours of practise. I could play in my sleep", Draco replied without any hint of boasting. It was simply the truth. He had once loved playing the piano, the smile it bought upon his mother's worried face. Later he'd find out that source of her worry and it'd spread and consume him too. As time passed and his hate spread, he found joy in other things; drinking, sleeping around and, well, taking his anger out on others. Like the girl sat in front of him, with her big brown eyes staring at up him expectantly. What exactly was she expecting?

He pulled away from her, finally, before standing and busied himself with closing the lid of the piano. Even in his inebriated state, he didn't want to take advantage of her. Truthfully, he was scared she'd lose her mind again, no matter how warranted it was. Hermione, or Granger, whatever, remained where she sat as Draco opted to lean against the piano, allowing himself to openly stare at her. Internally, deep down under the alcohol, he knew it was weird and if he was sober he'd never do it so blatantly. Apparently, Firewhisky made him lose all tact. Usually she shifted under his scrutiny, he noticed, but today she was meeting his eye brazenly as if something had changed and she no longer felt so.. anxious.

"You truly are quite something, Granger", he remarked simply.

"I don't quite understand what you mean by that, Draco", she replied. Salazar, he loved it when she said his name. It's as if he'd been deprived of the experience his whole life. Though perhaps it was what made it that much sweeter.

"It's okay. I know what I mean", his response warranted her to stand and cross her arms in front of her chest as she looked at him annoyed.

"Tell me", she insisted and when he shook his head in jest she lunged toward him. With delayed response, he grabbed both her forearms, as she struggled against his grasp. "What are you doing, Granger?", he tried and failed not to laugh at her effort before turning her round so his hands still had hold of her arms with her back against his.

"You are infuriating", she huffed as she slackened in his clasp, laying her head back against his chest as she looked up at him.

"It's all part of my charm", Draco's lips twisted into a smirk, he couldn't help it. Speaking of lips, he couldn't stop staring at hers, the sensation of them still lingering in mind. "You shouldn't have kissed me", the words slipped out without a second thought and her cheeks licked with crimson, Draco thought her blush was a spectacular sight.

She swallowed deeply, "Why not?", her response was flirty, he was sound of mind enough to know what.

"Because now I want to do it again", he stated and he felt her breasts pressing against his arms more frequently, a testament of her increased, laboured breathing. Draco closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of all indecent thoughts, though they currently consumed him.

But then she lifted a hand and he allowed the movement, momentarily forgetting he still held her arms. Her palm found his cheek as she guided his face to turn toward her. The whole moment, this whole ordeal, was completely surreal. Unfathomable. Completely crazy! Draco lost control as he reopened his eyes and saw Hermione biting her lip. Probably out of nerves, but the action all the same.

"Guess what?", he muttered, eyes fixated on her lip.

"What?", she whispered.

"Malfoy's always get what they want", his final quip before he kissed her once more.

She was glorious. Hermione Granger was a glorious kisser. The way her lips invited him to take more whilst her hands wrapped desperately begging for his kiss. He groaned into her mouth as she turned back toward him and pushed her body against his. Deliciously close. Sinfully close.

Draco hoisted her onto the piano lid and almost died when she wrapped her bare legs round his waist, frantically running her hands over his body. Fuck he couldn't believe his life at that moment. His mouth redirected effort to her neck, kissing, nipping, licking all while her head thrown back allowing him extra access. She possessed an innocent flare to the way she moved against him and in response to what he was doing, that only turned him on more. He never would've believed Hermione Granger would be so willingly intimate with him. He'd be a liar if he said he'd never thought about her in this way. The reality was superior to any and all thoughts he'd had.

Draco's hand snaked round her neck as he pushed her to lay back against the piano, all the while their tongues continuing their heavenly dance. With his hand still against her neck, Draco's other hand risked venturing else where. Her moan of approval, when his fingers glided against the skin under her shirt, was enough to spur him to continue his ministrations.

His fingers ran along her waist, her hips, her ribs and, thanks to the alcohol, dared to skim the undersides of her breast, her mewls the green lights spurring him further. Draco felt the familiar sensation behind his naval and thought nothing of it, it were a natural occurrence considering their current predicament. It took him a moment, but he noticed she stilled under him and so he pulled away, his face complexed.

What he saw, he did not expect. Hermione's eyes were widened and held a bewildered glint as if she were… scared.

Then the sobering realisation hit and it felt like ice through his veins. "Fuck, you're a virgin", he stated and backed away from her, "Fuck", he groaned as he dragged a hand roughly down his face. The realisation had the same effects as a Sobering Potion. Suddenly he felt guilt flood his system, replacing any alcohol that may have remained at this point. What the fuck was he doing?

-xXx-

AN: heyyy omg so I think I'm going to change the update day to Tuesday/Wednesday because apparently weekend uploads are impossible for me *eye roll*

Sooooo that happened. I'm considering changing the status of the story from T to M for future chapters (not yet), idk what do you want to see ?!

Also for the late upload, I have wrote a bonus scene about Astoria & Ron :3 This was an idea that just would not leave my mind ! I hope it kind of explains what's going on with their relationship & their future.

If there's anything you want to see in the story, let me know ! I don't mind :)

Enjoy!

-xXx-

Bonus scene – 6 days ago.

Astoria knew Ronald's apartment had experienced some flooding due to a maintenance issue involving the piping of the building. She didn't know the specifics. She'd never asked for them. But she did know he was currently staying at the burrow whilst the issue was being resolved and that's how she found herself in his room awaiting his return from the Malfoy engagement ball.

She sat at the edge of his bed, her hands clasped in her lap as she looked out the window. Ronald's bedroom was on one of the higher floors so she could appreciate the view. When she'd floo'd to the burrow at 11pm she was shocked to see Molly awake and seemingly prepping food for what she assumed was breakfast. Astoria, used to House Elves preparing her meals everyday, had never realised how much effort actually went into preparing a meal. She went on to find out, however, Molly never could sleep without knowing all her children were home and accounted for, hence keeping herself busy at such a late hour. She had no doubt her worries came as an after effect of her sons passing.

Astoria, left with only her thoughts to entertain her for the past hour, was idly reflecting on her life in comparison to the Weasleys. The Greengrass manor, whilst superior in size, had no personality, no warmth and no semblance of a home, all of which were abundant at the Burrow. Even the way Molly had hugged her on arrival, Astoria couldn't recall the last time her own mother had embraced her. She had no idea where Daphne inherited her positivity and warmth from, because Astoria possessed the same detached and cold feelings their parents raised them with. Qualities of a future Pureblood wife. But now she was at a loss, she no longer had that expectation of her anymore, what in Merlin's name was she supposed to be now?

"What are you doing here?", his voice dragged her away from her distressing thoughts and she twisted her neck to see him. Ronald, however, was not looking at her. He walked into his room unbuttoning his shirt as he made was to his wardrobe, not giving her a second glimpse. Stupidly she felt miffed by this.

"I'm sorry for embarrassing you", she said, looking away and back to the window.

He snorted, "The only person you embarrassed, Astoria, was yourself", he retorted from behind her as she listened to him strip from his formal wear. She gulped as the reminder of her behaviour at the ball flooded her, she'd drank champagne like water and was utterly mortified by her resulting actions. Her mother literally had to drag her home.

"I embarrassed my parents", she countered, her mother literally called her 'an embarrassment to the Greengrass name' as soon as they'd arrived home. She promptly ran to her room, stepped out of her dress, laid on her bed and cried. Until her personal House Elf Silky found her some time later with a Sobering Potion and ushered her into bubble bath she'd drawn for her. Astoria loved Silky. She'd had her her whole life and Astoria was sure nobody knew her like Silky knew her.

"Do you even care what they think? Do you care what anyone thinks?", he sighed as he spoke, he was annoyed. Contrary to his belief, Astoria solely cared what people thought of her and had no qualm with pleasing herself.

"I care about what you think, actually", she muttered, and it were the truth. Hence, the reason as soon as bathed and dried, she came here in nothing but a slip dress under her coat.

"I really don't think you do", Ronald replied with a mirthless chuckle, she felt the bed dip behind her as he laid down, "You hate our situation and you hate me for it", Astoria pondered his words, even though they were clearly alcohol infused, and couldn't believe he'd said it so outright. The only thing she hated was herself.

"I don't hate you", and she turned to look at the man she was to marry. His eyes were closed as he lay under the duvet, both his arms flexed and bent upward so that his head rested on his hands and the top of his bare chest was visible.

"Do you regret volunteering for the law?", he asked.

"I don't know", she muttered the truth, "I wonder who you would've been matched with if I hadn't", she voiced her query and he chortled, his eyes still closed.

"Well, I doubt she'd be prettier than you, Astoria", Ronald said and her eyes widened in shock, the first time he'd ever complimented her. She was taken aback. Very aback. "But she might've been easier to talk to. She might've danced with me at balls and might've wanted to actually get to know me or go on dates. She might've been happy to be with me", he finished and an unwelcome amount of guilt filled her.

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult", Astoria wanted to cry. "I… I don't know why I'm like this. But I can't help it, it's who I am", she watched the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

"I know", he said simply, "I've been thinking a lot, we have five years to marry and have two kids", the reminder felt like a rock sinking to the pits of her stomach, "So let's wait", she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"What do you mean?", she asked for him to elaborate.

"I know everyone else is moving so bloody fast, but we don't need to. Three years, we have three years to live our own life's how we want and then we'll have the children after.", Ronald's solution was… plausible. Even thinking of it, not marrying at 19, not having children at 19, she felt considerably less overwhelmed.

Astoria considered his suggestion, "And you're okay with being celibate for three years?", she enquired not entirely convinced.

"Trust me, I've had enough sex as a War Hero to last a lifetime" his reply caused her to twist her lips into a line of disgust, "what about you?", to be honest she thought sex was overrated, she'd only slept with one person and had felt nothing but discomfort, yes she could live without.

"Yes. I can live with this", she breathed a sigh full of relief. Suddenly, her shoulders no longer felt weighted down, even though, ironically, she finally slouched down for the first time releasing her usual stiff posture.

"Astoria", her name was a whisper escaping his lips, "it's late. Lay with me", he offered and she knew the time had nothing to do with it, she could floo to her home right now in seconds with no repercussions but for the first time since receiving her match, she felt… carefree.

So that's how she found herself removing her coat, and laying atop his covers in nothing but her slip dress. "You're staring at me", he said before turning his neck and finally opening his eyes, his eyes were like the ocean she'd been previously drowning in. But now she was safely sat at the shore simply a spectator. Astoria smiled at him, for the first time in her life and he smiled back.

Then Astoria did something reckless, something to say thank you, she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. But suddenly it was more. One thing led to another but Astoria was unheeding, too wrapped up in her happiness and relief she didn't care. This was her parting gift, he'd given her three years freedom, so she'd give him these moments in return. But it was in these moments, bursting with pleasure she'd never experienced before, she thought that maybe remaining celibate for three years was going to be infinitely harder now.