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Chapter 15 -

Draco was leaning over Hermione, almost lying on top of her, but his arms held up his entire weight. She was making a feeble, nay, a mock attempt, to hold him off with her hands, placing them on his chest. He said, "I have a soul, Granger, and in that soul is a passion, which burns brightly, in its very depth, the likes of which you have never seen before. Shall I prove it to you?"

Hermione thought to herself…'oh my, oh my, oh my, what is he planning to do?' She did not have to wait long to see.

He fell down on top of her, full weight, trapping her arms between their bodies. His thigh strategically placed between her legs, his hands at her face, and his elbows holding up his upper body only. In a swift movement, his lips crashed down on hers, and he kissed her with a passion and a hunger, which true to his words, she had never seen before.

He kissed her long, hard, soft and sweet. His lips moved playfully on hers, as he dragged his lips across her cheek, to the sensitive area below her jaw. He sucked on the sensitive skin, drawing circles with his tongue. She threw her head back as far as she could, to grant him the access to which he sought.

He moved on her body, so he was now only on her right side. He put his right hand on her throat, as he continued to kiss her ear, and then her cheek, and then her mouth again. As he opened her mouth under his, she had an insane thought. This was without a doubt the best kiss she had ever had. That was not the insane part. The insane part was that it was better than any time she had ever made love in her whole life, and it was just a kiss.

His hand, still on her throat, moved to her collarbone, and then to her chest. He played with the collar of her dress. He kissed her full on the mouth again, and he decided to experiment, and give this whole 'touching her breast' thing another go. He placed his hand lightly on her left breast, seeking no harm, no foul, considering she was fully dressed.

Even through the fabric of her dress, and her undoubtedly proper bra, he could feel her tip harden. He had yet to move his hand at all. She was the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted, and if he did not stop soon, he would not be able to stop at all. He moved his hand down to her waist, and moved to lay on his side, then his back. He pulled her over, so she was partially on top of him. He stopped kissing her; but kept her tight in his grasp, one hand on her backside, resting on her bum, and one hand on her face. She was now the one forced to hold herself up from him.

"Wow, Hermione," he said, breathing hard.

"That's an understatement," she said, breathing just as hard.

"Did I prove to you that I have a soul?" he asked, smiling up at her.

She smiled back and said, "I believe you not only have a soul, but a heart, a mind, and a pool of passion that is as deep as the ocean, and as wide as the sky."

He pulled her head down with his hand on the back of her neck, and kissed her again. She lifted her head and said, "Malfoy, this is crazy!" She laughed hard, and she said again, incredulously, "This is so crazy!"

She made to get off him, but he held her down. "Why is it crazy?"

"Because, Malfoy, even though we've known each other for more than half our lives, we don't KNOW each other, do we?"

He placed his hand to the side of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. He tilted his head so he could kiss her jaw. She lifted her head. She moaned slightly. He licked her neck and said, "I know one thing, when you moan like that, I lose all my faculties."

He let her go, taking several deep breaths, and as she was sitting up, he stood up, and walked away from her for a moment. He had to compose himself. It took all his might not to run back over there and ravage her to death.

With his back to her he said, "What do you want to know about me, Granger?" He turned back around, straightening his hair with his hands, and sat down next to her. She was straightening her dress as he asked this question. After he sat down, he reached up and stroked the back of her hair several times, to comb it in place.

"Well, why don't we just tell each other some things about ourselves? Not abstract things, like 'I play the piano', but things like middle names, birthdates, things like that. You start," Hermione said.

Draco, who was sitting right next to her on the ground, extended his hand and said, "Hello, my name is Draco Abraxas Malfoy." Hermione took his hand, and shook it. However, after shaking his hand, he did not let hers go. He held it tight the whole time he talked.

"I was born on June 5, 1980, in Wiltshire, England. I am an only child, my parents are former Death Eaters, and I have grey eyes and pale blond hair. I was in Slytherin House in school, and in my fifth year, I was a prefect. I was the seeker on our Quiddith team. My first name means Dragon or Serpent, in Latin, although I was named after a constellation. My last name is French, and means Bad faith. I work for the Ministry, as an Auror. I am single and I have never been married, or even so much as engaged. Is that enough information, my dear?"

Hermione grinned through the entire span of his speech. She said, "That's enough, for now. At least, that's enough 'facts'. May I make a few comments, before I commence?" He was still holding her hand. His thumb was now rubbing back and forth on the top of her hand.

He looked at face and said, "Ask me anything."

"Is your middle name really Abraxas?"

"Yes, I was named after my grandfather, and I know what my initials spell out, although the curse world has an 'N' in it. What else?" he asked.

"Where are your parents now?" she asked.

"At this exact moment, probably at Malfoy Manor. My father served only five years in prison. My mother 15 months," he answered, no longer looking at her. He was looking at her hand now, studying the outline of her palm. He said, "Go, Granger. Your turn."

She said, "My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I always thought my middle name was Jane, but then a funny thing happened when I was 17, my parents were looking at my birth certificate, and saw that the registrar had put 'Jean', instead of 'Jane', so I guess my middle name changed from Jane to Jean."

"I was born on September 19, 1979, in London, and my parents are both dentists. I, too, am an only child. I have one pet, a very old cat hybrid named Crookshanks. I have brown curly hair and brown eyes. I was named after a character from a Shakespeare play, 'A Winter's Tale,' and my favourite color is yellow."

"I'm a healer at St. Mungo's, and I love my work. I'm single, and have never been married or engaged, but not by my own choice." Her voice suddenly became softer, until she was no longer speaking at all. She was looking at the pattern of her dress. He still had her hand and he lifted it to his lips, to kiss it sweetly.

"My turn for questions," he said, "Your cat is still alive?"

Hermione looked at him indignant at first, and then saw that he was joking, so she merely said, "Yes, he's still alive. Is that your only comment to my autobiography?"

"No, I was going to make a comment how you're nine months older than I, but it doesn't matter to me. I like dating older women," he said.

"I'm not that much older," she whined.

"You are old enough to be my older sister, or my older cousin, or something," he remarked.

"You're a nutter," she said, with a small laugh.

He let go of her hand and pointed toward the horizon. "There's that beautiful sunset you promised me, Granger."

An intake of breath was inhaled through her lips, and after exhaling, she bit her bottom lip. The color of the sky, pink, red, gold, and orange, and the wisp of clouds, combined with the massive circle of the sun, literally astounded her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked. She turned to look at him. He was staring, wide-eyed, mouth opened; looking at the most beautiful thing, he had ever seen. He was looking at Hermione Granger.

"Beautiful," he said back to her.

Her cheeks blushed, and she looked at the ground again. She said, "You shouldn't give false praise, it's unkind."

Was she serious? He put his hand under her chin to force her to look at him. "I never say anything I don't mean down in the very depths of my aforementioned soul, Hermione. I seriously think you are the most beautiful woman I have seen in a long, long, time. Maybe ever."

She was quiet. She continued to look at him, as his hand had not left her face. She finally spoke. "Please, don't play around with me. I couldn't stand it if my heart was broken again."

"What makes you think I would ever break your heart?" he asked, seriously.

She removed his hand from her face, and brought it up to her mouth, with her hand. She kissed his hand, and then laid it on the ground, between their sitting forms, still tight in her grasp. She said, "You could so easily break my heart, if anything you have said or any action you've taken today was false in anyway. Please, be truthful to me. Do you really want to see me after today? Do you really want to forge a relationship?"

The discussion had turned so serious, but he could tell just by looking in her eyes, that this was an important topic to her. He said, "My dearest, sweetest, beautiful, girl. If I ever do or say anything to you, from this point on, that distresses you, or causes you pain, embarrassment, or harms you physically or mentally, in anyway, than know this, I will be hurting myself as well. Because I really think to hurt you in anyway would be to hurt myself, and to hurt myself is the last thing I would ever want to do." He added that last part to make her smile. It worked. She was beaming. She suddenly threw herself on him, causing him to fall over. She kissed him warmly on the lips.

"That was the perfect thing to say!" she said. She moved to lie on top of him, and kissed him deeply, once more. He was uncomfortable, twofold, one, because she was causing a certain reaction, which he knew he was helpless to take care of at the moment, and second, because a large rock, stick, or thicket, was pressing into his backside. He COULD take care of that problem. He wiggled around slightly, with her still on top, so that he was away from the offending object.

As he was wiggling under her, she misread the signs, and thought that he was taking care of his other problem. So embarrassed by her brazen outburst, (throwing herself in his arms) she wiggled to move out of his arms. He misread this action, and held her tighter, pulling her over him so that he was on top, and she was on bottom.

The result was that the pair inexplicably began to roll down the hill. They held on tight to each other the entire way. He would let out an occasional "Ouch," as she let out a "Humph!" When they finally stopped rolling, they were at the very bottom of the hill. Both were shocked, and unkempt, as well as slightly injured. She sat up, with another cut in her hand, right below where she cut it earlier in the day. He stayed on his back, and said, "Oh, my bum!" She crawled over to him, laughing.

She said, "Your bum? Did you hurt your buttocks, Malfoy?"

"No, you hurt me," he amended, trying to sit up. He lay back down and said, "I really hurt myself."

She kneeled over him, and turned him over to his side. She let out a gasp. "What?" he asked alarmed.

"It's your backside that hurts?" she asked, with him still on his side.

"Well, not my backside so much, as…well, fine, my backside, why?" he asked back. She started laughing, and could not stop. He said, "What the bloody hell, Granger?"

"Malfoy, you must have rolled into some thickets. You have about four or five burrs stuck right to your backside!" She continued to laugh.

"Take them off me!" he said, still on his side.

"Pull down your pants," she urged.

He looked back at her and said, "If you want to see me naked, that won't come until date number 30."

"Seriously," she said, swatting his arm. "I have to make sure none of the burrs are sticking to your bum. They could puncture your skin, and cause all sorts of trouble. I'm a professional; I'll use the utmost care. Just removing them from the outside of your pants doesn't mean that there aren't splinters in your skin."

He was so embarrassed. He said, "I'll remove the damn things, turn around."

"Don't be such a baby," she said. He was already standing. He was starting to unbuckle his pants.

"Ouch, oh, ouch," he exclaimed. He said, "Turn around, Granger."

"Let me help you," she said.

"Just turn around," he said. "I'm mortified enough as it is." She turned around and he pulled down his pants. He said, "Granger, I think we have a problem."

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