CHAPTER 9
The kitchen door swung open again, as Draco pulled Hermione on through. Something had set Ron and Ginny off because they were standing in the middle of the living room, clearly in the midst of another argument. Harry sat on the sofa watching them with a bemused, although throughly tired expression.
Ron's attitude shifted and a mask of pure spiteful jealousy formed on his face when they appeared hand in hand. There wasn't a moment to pause, or register the look on anyone else's face or indeed for Ron to formulate an insult before Draco had pulled her in his embrace, removed his wand from his pocket and turned on the spot.
A loud, familiar crack reverberated through the room. But Hermione and Draco were already gone. The uncomfortable constricted feeling engulfed the pair, though brief, and they stumbled onto cool pavement.
"What the hell was that?" Hermione spat, catching her balance. She hadn't apparated so ineptly since she had taken lessons back at Hogwarts with Wilkie Twycross.
Draco stumbled a couple of steps, steadying himself on her waist.
He registered the look of annoyance on her face and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I thought it prudent."
"You can't just kidnap me like that, in front of them." She said huffily.
A smile played around his lips.
"Oh, but that wasn't the point, was it? Hermione said, smoothing her skirt with the palms of her hands. "One last dig at Ron? One last juvenile hurrah?"
"Don't fret Granger— I suspect there will be plenty more opportunities to irritate Weaselbee."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't call him that."
But her annoyance was already fading. And Draco's smile was rather good and his hand was still on her waist.
"So what now? She questioned, looking around. She realized Draco had taken them just to a point outside her building. Her flat was a modest walkup above a row of bustling shops, though all was quiet now. The storefronts were dark, and the only light came from the streetlights, showing that they were quite alone at this late hour.
"C'mon, birthday drink?" Draco asked.
Hermione frowned. The thought of more alcohol turned her stomach.
"Well then, tea?" Draco perked his eyebrows up.
"I doubt anything is open this late." Hermione muttered, running a hand over her arm. It had to be close to two in the morning. That, and the cool night air was starting to get to her. She was only wearing a little slip dress after all. She gave a little involuntary shiver, which Draco noticed. A moment later he had pulled his wand out, and transfigured a knit cardigan out of thin air.
"Oh. Thank you." Hermione said, rather taken aback at his thoughtfulness. He didn't acknowledge her remark, and brushed past the moment.
"I've got a kettle." He said, not meeting her eye.
Hermione began to hear herself say, "I'm not sure" But Draco was already hedging her off. "It's just tea, Granger."
"Alright."
His lips betrayed a smile. "This way." He set off down the street.
For some reason, her pulse was jumpy. An uneven rhythm under her skin. That, and she had an anxious knot in her core. Like she had simultaneously drunk three cups of coffee, and just been told she had a important meeting in minutes that she hadn't prepared for.
But he seemed fine— his eyes were ahead, looking at the blank pavement.
It occurred to her as they walked that they could have just as easily apparated. But she preferred walking somehow, staying in the chilly air just for a bit longer. They walked two whole blocks before Hermione realized why her nerves were setting her on edge.
The tall white building was just ahead, just as it had been the last time. She'd been here before. Her out-of-character one night stand, with the flatmate. A rosy flush crossed her face at the memory: trying to leave without waking him, and then Draco catching her…
He— Connor— would be there. But, surely not? Right? She thought to herself wildly.
The last thing Hermione needed right now was another altercation with a past fling.
Draco was a couple steps ahead of her before he realized she had slowed her pace. He looked at her expectantly.
'I…' she faltered.
"Is he…?" She managed to get out. Draco shook his head, knowing where the question led.
"No. He's not there." He said flatly, and kept walking.
His tone made Hermione want to ask follow up questions, but another part of her didn't want to know. So she said nothing. Her nerves, which had momentarily settled from the cold, jumped back in with heat. Moments later they reached the gate. Draco punched in a sequence of numbers and the gate clicked open with a metallic snap.
The lobby was bathed in yellow fluorescent light. He called the lift, and Hermione was yet again reminded of how they had shared a ride down, months ago. He had been chilly and distant then, and had remarked that he had thought she and Ron were together. Now, there was a stormy silence in the elevator. As the door closed, Hermione felt her stomach clench with nerves again. He was less than a foot away, and she could tell his playful mood had gone and Hermione was starting to have misgivings. It was the nerves. Or maybe everything was hitting her now: Draco telling her that he had liked her from afar during their eighth year, kissing Ron then immediately regretting it and rowing with him, then Draco almost kissing her for a second time.
Almost the key word there. They had been interrupted on the balcony, by a few of Ginny's drunken Quidditch friends. Hermione had jumped out of his embrace as if she had been electrocuted, and had immediately slipped back inside the party before the gawping intruders had realized what they had stumbled upon. The next time she had been near him was just now, when he had walked in on her argument with Ron. And he chose to tease her, instead of kissing her properly.
"I can hear you thinking from here Granger."
She looked up. His expression had calmed, but there was something hard still in his eyes. She was acutely aware of their proximity, and felt a blush creep up her neck. Draco had one or two inches on her, even in her heels.
"Why did you come tonight?" She asked.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Draco ignored it.
"I wanted to see you. Like I said before." He took a step towards her. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."
Her breath hitched, and she blurted, "Really?"
He gave a short chuckle, and said "Have you been thinking about me?"
The answer was obviously yes. Each run-in she and Draco had over the last couple weeks had stuck in her head— playing like short films whenever she let her brain wander. Every time invariably led back to Draco. Draco in the elevator, the hard stare he had given her in the park, Draco reading a muggle newspaper and catching sight of his bare taught midriff at the bakery— each bizarre conversation, which had lead her to replay them in her head, picking apart sentences to find underlying meanings. And Draco of course asking her what she wanted.
God, he was so close. The look in his eyes was scorching, and the tension between them seemed almost tangible. All she had to do was reach out and they'd be kissing. So she closed the gap between them. His mouth perked up in a rakish smile, and Hermione leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the mouth for the first time. For the briefest moment he stalled, as if Hermione had caught him off guard. But then he met her kiss, tilting his head, and slowly capturing her lips.
She wound her fingers through his blonde hair, and explored the nape of his neck along his thin tee shirt collar, and his broad shoulders. The moment she parted her lips and their tongues met, she let out a little involuntary moan. Draco responded by pressing her firmly against the wall of the elevator, leaving absolutely no space between them. His hands were firmly anchored on her waist; the thin plum colored satin the only thing between the warmth of his hands and her skin.
She felt the familiar knot of anxiety that had plagued her too frequently fade away. A warmth was now pooling in her center. She couldn't remember ever being kissed like this. In the early days with Ron, things had been simple, like those fleeting kisses they shared in empty Hogwarts corridors. They had been nice, juvenile kisses that hadn't lead anywhere.
But this was different, this felt different. Ron's touch had never sent her nervous system into complete overdrive. And those kisses between her and Connor had been clumsy, neither one had been remotely sober— and, and Draco's fingers now rubbing patterns on her inner thigh had awoken something in her that made her want to shove Draco's hand up her skirt, and encourage him to do things to her that she wouldn't ever admit out loud to.
Hermione wasn't sure how long they had been lip-locked, but she pulled back and broke the kiss feeling the desperate need for oxygen. Her breath came in heaving gasps, as if she had just run a mile. She opened her eyes. Draco looked dazed and disheveled, with a pale pink flush across his face. But then he smiled, a winning smile that split his face that made her stomach feel like she had skipped a stair.
And then, the elevator started to move.
Minutes later, Hermione giggling, and Draco grinning goofily to boot, they made their way to the door of the penthouse. Halfway down the corridor, Draco had swooped in for another long kiss, cupping her face in his hands.
The hallway was lined in old and somewhat dirty white subway tile, which reflected the same fluorescent yellow light around the narrow corridor. They didn't speak as Draco tapped the door with his wand and pushed the door open.
'I'll get the kettle going shall I?' Draco murmured, as Hermione followed him in.
Draco disappeared to the left, leaving Hermione alone. She felt a little surprised that tea was actually happening— she had half-expected Draco to ravish her the minute she walked in.
A few lamps around the room automatically lit when she stepped into the room. Hermione shrugged off the transfigured cardigan and placed it on the sofa. Everything was just as it had been. The modern furnishings, expensive looking white carpeting and floor to ceiling windows. She walked over to see the view. The square looked so much smaller from this angle, she could just see a bit of the path winding through dense trees. In the distance she could see muggle traffic lights changing colors.
Hermione sat down on one of the sofas and looked around. The room was devoid of clutter and knickknacks. She felt like she had entered in to a expensive design shop, it was arranged and styled so precisely.
Feeling restless, she got up again and walked across the room to a muggle record player— she had recognized it immediately as she had grown up with one. It was the one thing in the room that felt out of place. Where had Draco gotten it, she wondered. It was a bit strange, but then again he had been reading a muggle newspaper at that cafe… maybe he harbored a penchant for muggle things. Wouldn't that be something?
She began flipping though the albums, recognizing a handful them. Mostly they looked old jazz and rock albums. Idly she drummed her fingers on the case and moved away from the record player. Her eyes fell upon the corridor at the far end of the room. Instinctively, Hermione walked over and opened the first door on the left.
It was completely empty.
She wasn't sure what she had expected, but just being in the room again had made her heart beat an irregular rhythm in her chest. The room was completely blank except for a portrait on the wall. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find behind the door. Perhaps she expected to find it just as she had left it— Connor asleep lying in the disheveled bed, clothes discarded haphazardly.
Her feet carried her in, and she trailed her fingertips along the fresh white paint to the window opposite. The familiar feeling that had plagued her since leaving the party had begun again. Her breath had caught in her throat and she felt her pulse quicken. The feeling of being caught out, almost like the room was out of bounds. Or like she was going to get caught by Filch for being out after hours back at Hogwarts.
But there was something akin to morbid curiosity filling her, and she again wondered why the room was empty, why Connor wasn't there, and why she felt like she was the one responsible.
The view from the window showed the same vantage of the square below.
The faintest sound made her spin around, and sent her heart pounding erratically again. Draco stood there, silhouetted in the doorway. She was struck with how beautiful he was— how had she not noticed before? Tall and lean, his blonde hair fell loosely about his face. His once pointy face had now filled out. Long fingers which earlier had elegantly cupped her face currently held two mugs of tea. His pale blue eyes held her for a long moment; a peculiar expression played around his lips. He set his mug down on the windowsill, and handed her the other. An electric shock ran up her spine at the briefest feeling of his fingertips on hers.
"Thanks." She muttered, into the tea. She inexplicably felt like she couldn't meet his gaze.
For something to do, she took a sip of tea. They lapsed into silence.
"I kicked him out." Draco said evenly.
Hermione's head snapped up. Pale eyes met brown.
It was a moment before he said anything else. It seemed as though he was choosing his words carefully.
"I replayed that elevator ride over and over in my head the whole day. I couldn't focus on anything at the bank." He ran a hand over his face, and looked out the window. "I still think if it hadn't been such a shock to see you, I would've…" a twisted grimace flashed across his face.
"But the minute I got back to the flat after work, he was there in the kitchen, pulling a cereal box down off the shelf. The prick was only supposed to have stayed a week anyway. He's some friend of Zabini's and he needed a place to crash. So then he starts on about you—"
His eyes narrowed. "Boasting about getting to bed you, talking shit, saying it was a shame he didn't get your name— and the next thing I knew I had him pinned against the counter and punched the fucker right across the face." His voice went a little cold, and quiet. "You don't know what it was like for me to see you leaving his room that morning. Knowing that you had been with him, knowing that he got to touch you, like I… "
"Why did you never say anything?" She asked softly, placing a hand on the side of his face, so that he would meet her eyes. She felt touched that Draco had acted so… so chivalrously. Immediately he wound his arms around her waist, pulling them close.
"After the war, you always seemed a million miles away. And you were never without those two."
She knew he was referring to Ron and Harry.
"I could never delude myself into thinking that you weren't perfectly happy with him." Draco said, with an unmistakeable sourness to his voice. "The amount of times I saw you two lounging out in the grounds, holding hands in the corridors…" He trailed off, and Hermione didn't need him to finish the sentence. Clearly he was jealous of Ron. His territorial actions from earlier had more than illustrated his feelings.
She shook her head, reflecting back on the scene in the kitchen earlier. "It was like that for Ron, it still is… but I always wanted something more."
Draco had nothing to say to that. Except that he was now playing with her hair.
"And anyway—" her voice shifted. "I distinctly remember seeing you with that blonde Greengrass girl on more than one occasion last year." Hermione recalled. "Clearly there were other girls on your mind." She pointed out.
"It was only ever a bit of fun with Astoria." He said dismissively.
"But I saw you and her together a lot…" she mused, remembering from their so called eighth year. "And one time in particular, in the back of the library… she blushed involuntarily, recalling the image of Draco and Astoria kissing passionately against a bookcase.
A devious grin crossed his face.
"I'm flattered that you paid attention. Maybe you saw something you liked?" He all but purred the last bit.
Hermione felt her face go redder, if possible and she rolled her eyes for effect. "Absolutely not. I just thought it was irresponsible. Some people study in there, you know."
"Study you say?" And he smirked. "You're such a swot, Granger."
"And you're a brooding, petulant …" But she trailed off. Draco had a repressed look on his face.
"I think the words you are looking for are 'Foul, evil, little cockroach' if I'm remembering correctly."
She scowled. "Oh you so had that coming, don't even try denying it."
"Well, maybe." He conceded, and when she raised her eyebrows he further said "Well, yes I know I did." He sighed heavily and pulled out of her embrace and rubbed his temple.
"I just don't like thinking about that stuff if I can help it."
"I'm sorry." She said hesitantly. Oh she had stuck her foot in her mouth hadn't she? Of course he didn't want to be reminded of their particularly bad history.
"Don't be. " He said shortly. A plaintive expression crossed his face, and all she wanted to do was kiss him and make him feel better. A new feeling blossomed up along side the thought, warm and made her chest constrict. It caught her off guard. Abruptly, she took a step towards the door.
"Hey." And she tugged his sleeve. "Let's go somewhere else. How about you give me a tour?" She was done with the room and wanted to move away from any remembrance of that night.
A devious smirk crossed his face, and Hermione knew exactly what was on his mind. He swooped down and kissed her agin. She couldn't contain her grin, and she pulled back smiling.
"Oh, I didn't mean it to sound like that."
He did nothing but give her a massive smirk and led her out the bedroom door.
"Let's add maddeningly temperamental to that running list, shall we?" She muttered darkly under her breath, and he let out a bit of a chuckle.
"This is the hallway." He said unnecessarily, gesturing around. "There's another bedroom, and a bathroom that way."
He turned back to the living room, pausing at the threshold.
"It's very nice." She said lamely.
Draco shrugged. "My family owns property all over London. My mother put this together." He waved again at the polished surfaces. He walked briskly through to the kitchen, which was marbly white, with painted cabinets. Hermione followed, as Draco moved without further comment through another door, to the adjacent dining room and then back to another hallway.
She only got a glimpse of it however before he motioned to a narrow staircase and ascended the steps one by one.
There was a little landing at the top, and Draco pushed the door nearest to him open.
It was a large handsome room with floor to ceiling built-in book cases, dark wood flooring and old wallpaper, maybe original to the building. At first glance she thought they stepped into someone else's flat because the room was so different to those downstairs.
A tall wooden wardrobe took up one corner and in the other there was a large leaded glass casement window, partially covered by thick velvet drapes. A matching armchair stood in front. She imagined it would be the perfect spot to curl up with a book on a rainy day. And in the center of the room was a large four poster bed, with a carved wooden frame. The off white striped duvet was slightly wrinkly, and sat bunched on the bed. A paper back book lay open on the nightstand.
She stepped into the room. The wall paper on closer inspection was a soft green with long springs of wildflowers and songbirds. She walked over to the bookcase and examined the titles. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, appraising the situation from the doorway. The book covers were mostly magical texts— but she recognized a fair few muggle authors as well. Works by E. M. Forster, Virginia Woolfe, Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Agatha Christie were all there.
"So this is your room?" She said, looking back at him finally. He was leaning against the doorframe, looking at her contemplatively.
He nodded. She walked over to his bed, and picked up a familiar book lying on the nightstand.
"Jane Austen."
She reached for the paperback, and opened it to the page he was currently on. It was the part where where Miss Bingley invites Elizabeth to take a turn about the room while at Netherfield.
"What do you think of it?" She asked, curious.
"It's interesting." He said cautiously.
She could tell that Draco didn't know what to do with himself now that she was in his room. He was still hovering in the frame, neither in the room or outside it.
She sat down on the bed, perched on the edge. There was a long moment, in which they just looked at each other. "Are you just going to stand there?" The bold statement spilled from her lips before she had really thought about it. A ripple of some emotion briefly crossed his face before Draco composed his features. His stormy blue eyes were the color of the Atlantic, fraught with raw emotion and something else that made her pulse quicken.
Her breath caught in her throat. Never breaking eye contact with her softer brown eyes, Draco moved towards her. It seemed to take ages, though he only had to take a few steps. Hermione felt paralyzed, unable to move, not that she wanted to. He stopped leaving mere inches between them.
Draco moved towards her, and gathered her in his embrace wordlessly. Speaking would have ruined the moment. The kiss was different than before. It was a prelude to a question, perhaps one that Hermione wasn't ready to hear. He placed a hand on her face, bringing it to his for a kiss. It was a gentle, chaste kiss that made her lightheaded. She sighed, and wound her fingers around his neck.
His gentle kisses weren't enough, and his teasing touch were sending her system into nervous desperation. Hermione grabbed his shoulder and pulled him over her, needing more. He let out a little noise as she raked her fingers through his messy blonde hair, and met her passion eagerly and pushed her back onto the bed.
Draco loomed over her in a blatantly sexual pose. He was propped up, holding himself away from her with a knee between her legs and an arm on either side of her. There was a look in his eyes that sent a familiar heat down her spine.
She pulled his face down to hers, trying to get his body towards hers, needing to be as close as possible. She could feel the hardness in his trousers and she pulled him closer, and trailed a hand down his chest, feeling his muscles under his tee. He was intoxicating, filling her senses with
indescribable scent, that was undoubtedly masculine, something almond and something else all together that she couldn't identify. She lost track of time, she was solely focused on the feeling of his heart thumping next to hers, they way his muscles shifted under his tee, the feeling that they fit together perfectly.
Draco broke the kiss, stopping to regain his breath. He pinned her hands over her head, holding them to the bed with his left hand. She gasped in surprise. The position made her arch her back, pushing her breasts forward. She let out a little involuntary moan as he moved his other hand slowly up her leg, brushing his fingers gently across the smooth expanse of her thigh.
"Fuck Granger… I've wanted you for so bloody long… "
The throaty admission sent warm desire right to her core, and emotion reeling through her head. Her breath hitched, and her fingers tightened in his hold as Draco moved past the hem of her dress, feeling the thin cotton of her underwear under his palm. He dragged a hand over her core, and felt her arousal through the thin material.
He released her hands, and kissed her fervently on the lips, planting kisses down her throat. Her hands flew to his neck. She let out a little noise of contentment, and Draco started to move down her body, kissing her bare collarbone, her breasts, naval, and began pushing her satiny dress up, out of the way. A warning bell sounded in her head and she sat up by her elbows, Draco still straddling her.
"I—" Her voice caught in her throat.
He stilled, his questioning eyes roamed her face.
"I've never, I mean no-one has ever." She blushed.
He seemed to understand. "It's okay, I promise you'll like this Hermione." His low, almost whisper calmed her anxiety. She nodded.
He raised her dress out of the way, and pulled it over her head. She sat up, helping him with the garment. He stilled, taking in her form. She felt her face flush, as Draco's eyes roamed her soft curves, lingering on her her delicate bra then down to her cotton clad core. There was a tenderness and a intensity in his gaze that made her reach for him, kissing him throughly, needing the contact, the distraction. Her hands were back in his platinum hair, and she felt him let out a small moan in the back of his throat as she racked her nails on his scalp. She pulled his thin tee off, rumpling his hair as it went. He broke the kiss again, for a moment to get rid of his trousers. She got a glimpse of his form— pale skin, even in the dark room it was lighter than hers. His chest and arms were toned from years of Quidditch, and she explored his skin, feeling each muscle move.
Then their tongues met and Hermione bit down on his lip, when she felt one of his fingers edge around and circle her clit. Her moan was caught behind the kiss, and Draco moved away, and she knew in the space of a heartbeat what was about to happen.
Feeling his hands on her thighs, gripping her in place and the sheer thrill of vulnerability compounded her desire. His touch sent her heart pounding. And then he was there— and she let out a breathy gasp. His tongue was sinfully soft, and he knew exactly how to tease and excite her. Draco knew when to back off, slow down, and then start up again. She brought a hand down, and gripped the bedsheets tightly.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." She heard herself saying, in a desperate tone she was unfamiliar with. That feeling from her dreams, the too-hot sun and explosive build-up had overtaken her. But it was nothing like she had dreamt. Draco was here, really here with her. His tongue was doing things that her dreaming mind could never have come up with, or ever compete with. She strained to meet his touch, feeling an orgasm build in her that she hadn't ever come close to before.
Then Draco teased her opening with two fingers and then she found her release coming in shuddering gasps. Her muscles tensed and fluttered around his fingers, as he continued to flick his tongue around her as her body trembled. As she came down from the crest, an comfortable lethargy enveloped her. She felt Draco shift on the bed. A few seconds later she opened her eyes. Draco was there beside her, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His hair was rumpled from where her fingers had held him. His eyes were closed.
"Thank you." She said softly.
Hermione watched his face, as Draco's mouth perked into a smile. With his eyes still closed he said in a slow drawl.
"Anytime."
"Okay." She murmured sleepily, and she heard him chuckle. The lateness of the hour had caught up with her, and she closed her eyes. The bed was warm, and she drifted off to sleep.