Took a short break because my brain was smoking like a broken car after pumping out five chapters within like, three weeks.
On another note though, can someone please look inside my head and tell me if they can find where ALL THESE FREAKING WORDS CAME FROM? LIKE, HOLY SHIT, THIS IS THE LONGEST CHAPTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN FOR ANYTHING IN MY LIFE! I swear I did not intend for it to be so fucking long, but I started writing with nothing but the idea of a nightclub to go off of, and then suddenly BOOM! ANGST! FEELS! CHARACTER ANALYSIS!? WTF IS THIS!? WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS BEING AN EXCUSE TO WRITE GRATUTITOUS SMUT? WHAT HAVE I DONE!?
I mean there's still smut, but it doesn't take up the majority of the chapter...anyway, despite how undoubtedly shallow and kinky I am, I guess at heart, I'm one of those people that prefers smut to be accompanied by...eugh, plot. Just feels a little more satisfying once you get there. Don't worry though, they won't all be like this from now on, I SWEAR I'm not trying to one-up myself with chapter lengths. Just...got a little carried away with this one. Whoops.
The very floor beneath her feet was vibrating with the intense bass booming throughout the entire club. Hermione had to give this place credit; the atmosphere was surprisingly inviting, the décor classy but modern, though she could do without all the blinding lights. It also wasn't nearly as filthy as she was expecting, and the music selection so far was actually quite tasteful, not like the shallow pop drivel normally played at these types of places.
Unfortunately, all these things didn't erase the fact that Hermione was dragged here against her will on her night off.
Clubs in general really weren't her thing. The amount of people was downright claustrophobic, the constant flashing lights and pounding music were anxiety inducing, and every previous experience in one ended with her nearly hexing the bollocks off some fucker that tried to grope her.
She could have spent her precious night off at home, curled up in her favorite loveseat with Crookshanks purring in her lap and her newest read in hand. But no, instead she was accosted by an overzealous, overeager, and overly strong Ginevra Weasley, stuffed into a dress she never would have worn by choice, had her hair yanked and pulled into submission, her face poked and prodded with brushes and sponges, and physically hauled to this packed club.
Hermione could only huff a sigh and sip balefully at her White Russian. She half-heartedly scanned the room for Ginny, given that the redhead had predictably fucked off shortly after their arrival to flounce about and "take her pick of the crop," as she called it. She and Harry were allegedly taking a break, and it seemed Ginny was all too happy to spread her wings and enjoy what others had to offer in the meantime. Hermione was glad for her friend, but she wished that Ginny didn't feel the need to drag her along for similar experiences.
Ginny meant well, Hermione knew that. It wasn't uncommon knowledge that she'd not had any serious relationships since she and Ron split last year, and just like any woman, she had plenty of urges and longings to for intimacy. However, unlike confident social butterfly Ginny, Hermione had never easily clicked with others. She'd never been one to sleep with strangers or have casual sex. Her precious teenage years robbed by war had diminished such possibilities.
She couldn't even trust the drink given to her by some random muggle bartender without casting a poison detection charm on it first, much less trust a complete stranger with her body. Sadly, Hermione doubted the paranoia established within her by the war would ever fully evaporate.
Heaving another sigh, she finished her cocktail and signaled the bartender for another. At least the drinks here were good.
As Hermione pondered slipping out while Ginny was occupied, a flash of pale blond from her peripherals drew her gaze. Briefly, her eyes flitted to the man beside her, initially only mildly curious about the familiar shade of platinum that reminded her of a certain menace-turned-victim from her school days. Then, one double and triple take later, Hermione realized with mind-boggling shock that that head of blond hair belonged to the very menace himself.
"Draco Malfoy…" she breathed without thinking.
Immediately, Hermione's brain screamed at her for speaking his name aloud.
The hope that her voice had been drowned out by the music was dashed when he tensed beside her, his glass of scotch pausing on the way to his mouth. With what could only be described as trepidation, Malfoy pursed his lips and slowly turned to meet her gaze. She watched, equally as anxious, as his silver gaze filled with recognition, followed by the briefest flicker of panic, then abruptly closed off, leaving a blank sort of confusion.
"…Granger," he murmured. Hermione took a moment to respond, jarred by the series of emotions she'd watched flash across his face in the span of a second. She'd only ever seen him display sneers and haughtiness, aside from the time he'd watched her scream and writhe on the floor of his ancestral home with barely restrained horror. But she didn't care to think about that.
"What, uh…what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, not accusingly, but not unguarded either.
Draco pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked down into his glass of scotch, expression unreadable as he downed a hearty gulp of the liquid. For a moment, she thought he may not answer her; not that Hermione would blame him, she supposed she was being a tad rude, after all. But she couldn't help it. The sight of him there was simply too unexpected and too puzzling for her unquenchable curiosity to leave alone.
"By that, I suppose you mean what am I doing here, in a muggle club, in the middle of muggle London, as opposed to rotting away in my mansion like everyone else thinks I should be doing?" Malfoy replied flatly.
Hermione frowned, taken aback by the self-deprecation. "Well I certainly wasn't thinking nor implying that last part, but as for the rest of it, yes."
The Slytherin snorted. "No need for false sympathy Granger, you have more reason than most for wishing such a fate upon me." Her mouth hung open dumbly for a moment, wondering what on earth she was supposed to say to that, but he spared her from answering. "My friend Blaise owns this place. Back when he first opened it, he badgered me into coming at least once a week in exchange for free drinks. So here I am."
Hermione's brows furrowed thoughtfully. "Blaise…as in, Blaise Zabini?" she asked incredulously. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Unless you know of any other insufferable twats we attended school with by the same name, then yes, the very same."
Hermione's head reeled. "But…he's a…I mean-" Malfoy arched a brow in her direction, looking faintly amused. "A pureblood? Is that what you're going for, Granger?"
Her mouth snapped shut as her brain very unhelpfully decided to take notice of how attractive the expression was on him.
"Actually, I was going to say Slytherin, but yes, that too, I suppose," she bit out, determined not to let him get to her. Malfoy only shrugged. "Blaise was never like the others. Never gave a damn about house or blood superiority. Honestly, if the prat weren't so bloody smug and ambitious, he probably would've been in Hufflepuff."
Confused by his continuous lack of hostility, Hermione found herself chuckling hysterically at his words. "Draco Malfoy, friends with a Hufflepuff? Wouldn't that be something." Malfoy eyed her inscrutably. "No stranger than Draco Malfoy sitting alone in a muggle nightclub on a Friday night chit-chatting with Golden Girl Granger."
"I suppose you have a point," she acquiesced, wincing at the nickname. A brief, awkward silence passed between them, both trying and failing to figure out what to make of their vastly unforeseen situation. Hermione had not seen nor heard much of Draco Malfoy since testifying at his trial three years ago. He, along with his mother, both seemed to have vanished into the depths of their manor following their fall from grace, barely escaping Azkaban sentences in exchange for house arrest and a lengthy probation period for their part in the war. The once great and revered Malfoy name was now spat like a curse by any that spoke it, the family themselves and anyone associated with them shunned by their post-war society.
In light of such facts, Hermione figured it should make sense that he'd prefer to lurk around muggle establishments, given that no one in the non-magical world knew who he was; but her engraved memories of his relentless, condescending hatred of muggles and muggleborns struggled to believe it.
Studying him from behind the rim of her glass, Hermione hesitantly admitted that, even upon superficial glance, the effects of the war and his new status as a pariah were painfully obvious. Gone was the ever-present cockiness in his stance, gone were the arrogant smirks and nasty sneers he used to wear almost as often as shoes, and gone was every trace of stiff elegance that once ruled his posture.
Now, Malfoy merely sat there like any man, staring down into his drink as he absently swirled the liquid around with an empty gaze. It reminded her uncannily of his behavior in sixth year, except now he at least looked physically healthy.
It was then that Hermione understood, possibly better than she would have liked; the Draco Malfoy that sat before her was not one that she knew, not even a little bit.
He, just like her, just like Harry, Ron, and virtually all of Wizarding England, had been broken by the war. For one fleeting moment of insanity, Hermione mourned his former self, only because it was yet another piece of her childhood that had been shattered by Voldemort's reign.
But perhaps, a small part of her thought, that didn't mean she couldn't get to know this new Malfoy. After all, he did look like he could use the company; and, an even smaller part of her that she'd never openly acknowledge was suddenly terribly curious about this new mystery Draco, who hung out in muggle clubs and had muggle-loving friends and walked around in muggle clothes–
Holy shit, he was wearing muggle clothes, why was she only noticing this now?
Before she knew it, a blush rose on Hermione's traitorous face as her equally traitorous eyes roved appreciatively over his navy blue flannel with the top three buttons popped open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans that clung nicely to his shapely–
AH! Hermione, stop!
"So, what's mighty war heroine Granger doing in a place like this, anyway? Is the Weasel here with you?" Malfoy asked suddenly.
Hermione took a moment to register the question. Was he smirking, or was she just imaging it? Maybe she was simply paranoid because she'd just been blatantly checking him out.
Finally, she cleared her throat and replied. "If you're referring to Ronald, no, he's not here, thankfully. Ginny is though, she's the one that dragged me here."
The Slytherin cocked a brow. "Thankfully? You and Weaselbee going through a rough patch, are you?" Hermione instinctively bristled, but forced herself to cool down given that she and Ron had no romantic relationship to speak of anymore, and the fact that Malfoy's tone was more curious than taunting. "That would be impossible considering Ron and I broke up about a year ago. Things are just still a bit…awkward between us," she explained, mentally bracing herself for any level of derogatory comments.
Malfoy blinked, visibly taken aback by the news. "…Huh," he mumbled, pausing to take a sip from his glass. "You were always too good for that tosser, anyway."
If she'd been drinking, Hermione would have choked. She was almost tempted to cast Finite Incantum, because it would have been far easier to accept that she was stuck in some sort of illusion than acknowledge that Draco Malfoy just paid her a genuine compliment, even if it did come at the expense of her ex.
Malfoy noticed her befuddled expression and rolled his eyes. "Oh come on Granger, surely you're not that blind. Any bloke at school with half a brain would say that Weasley wasn't worth even a fraction of you. He was a blubbering, obnoxious, hot-headed twit that took you for granted even though you were the only reason he passed any of his classes. Honestly, I never understood why you gave him the time of day. I bet the immature sod hardly knew what to do with you once he finally pulled his head out of his arse long enough to realize you were even a woman."
Hermione sat still in an utter daze, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The media had had a field day – no, more like a field month – when she and Ron announced their separation. Journalists and reporters from all over the country tore the story apart, overanalyzing every little public interaction and brief statement to create the wildest tale possible, trying to figure out what could have caused the famous Golden couple to split. All manner of outrageous claims were made, from Ron cheating on her, to her cheating on him, to some ridiculous love triangle between she, Ron, and Harry that had never been fully resolved.
Rita Skeeter even took comments made by her and Harry during the first annual memorial for the Second Great Wizarding War and blew them way out of context, framing them as though they were alluding to hidden feelings for the other. Both Hermione and Ginny had stormed the Prophet to scream at and threaten the conniving bitch until she was given no choice but to write a retraction, or resign. She chose the former, much to Hermione's chagrin.
Unfortunately, the public weren't the only ones to give them grief over her and Ron's failed relationship. Molly Weasley had been devastated, her heart set on having Hermione as a daughter-in-law for years. In fact, all the Weasleys had been a bit tense around her for months afterwards, which had hurt far more than she ever cared to admit. Harry had been carefully supportive of both she and Ron, not wanting to pick sides, but Hermione could see how hard it was on him to see his two best friends at such heart-wrenching odds. Though he never said so aloud, she knew Harry had been excited about the prospect of them all being one big family.
The only one that hadn't changed much around her had been Ginny; she was the only one that had actually expressed relief at the break up, the only one that hadn't pressed her for details or badgered her into giving Ron another shot.
"You were so miserable with him, 'Mione," Ginny had said, "All you did was drag each other down. I know it's hard now, but I really do think this is ultimately for the best."
Without Ginny, Hermione wasn't sure if she'd ever have gained the strength to end things with Ron. Though she'd loved him, and he'd loved her, it hadn't been enough. They were too incompatible, their opposite personalities and vastly different interests proving too great a hurdle to clear.
It had hurt gravely to end it…but Hermione also couldn't deny the great breath of relief she'd taken once it was over.
However, despite Ginny's greatly needed support, Hermione had never felt completely comfortable with ranting about all of Ron's shortcomings to her. Though Ginny was undoubtedly her best female friend, she was also Ron's sister, and fiercely loyal to her family. Hermione couldn't bear to expose her to the nastier side of her brother, didn't want to see the look on Ginny's pretty face if she knew some of the awful, deeply hurtful things he'd screamed at her in their darkest moments – nor the unforgivable things she shrieked at him in return.
The fact that Malfoy, someone she barely knew outside of trading schoolyard insults and petty rivalries, had apparently paid enough attention to her to immediately pinpoint all her grievances with Ron effortlessly floored her. The idea that Draco Malfoy – her longtime rival, school bully, and eventual enemy – was perhaps the only person that was truly, one-hundred-percent on her side made her head pound and her heart race.
"I-I'm surprised you never saw anything about it in the paper. It was on the front page for weeks," Hermione rushed out, deciding that changing the subject was preferable to deconstructing whatever the hell that was.
Malfoy's eyes dimmed. "I don't read the Prophet anymore."
She looked down, the undercurrent in his tone preventing any follow up questions. She could probably venture a few guesses as to why herself, anyway.
"Well…you're certainly not missing much," she offered. Malfoy snorted. "Let me guess, more endless drivel about some noble, old pureblooded wanker having a change of heart? Has Madam Puddifoot's been investigated for yet another illegal substance? Or perhaps the Chudley Cannons have finally figured out how to hit a quaffle? I'm sure it's all very riveting."
Before she knew it, Hermione found herself laughing. She quickly covered her mouth as they looked at each other with mild shock, apparently having similar thoughts about the unfamiliar interaction.
Malfoy's gaze darted back down to his drink, the tips of his ears turning red.
Great Godric, was he blushing? Fuck, that was adorable.
Hermione drummed her fingers nervously on the bar top. Never in several hundred years would she have ever seen herself sitting in a busy muggle club joking around with Draco Malfoy. Strangely enough however, she found that she…didn't hate it. This post-war Malfoy was entirely new territory for her, and Hermione found herself wanting to explore every inch of him.
…Shite, that came out wrong. She didn't mean physically, of course! Just metaphorically!
"You're…different, Malfoy," she observed aloud, never being one to beat around the bush.
He didn't answer for several beats. "Yeah, well," he began wryly, "when you find yourself on the wrong side of a war because you're too much of a fucking coward to do anything right – something which everyone loves to remind you of whenever you dare set foot out in public – your entire system of beliefs and everything you know is turned on its head, and you can't so much as send an owl without running it by some Auror schmuck first because the Ministry is desperate for any excuse to throw your sorry arse in Azkaban…you tend to grow up a bit."
Hermione blinked rapidly at the unexpected rant. Frankly, she was grappling with the idea of him being so willing to divulge such personal things to her, especially when it was so painfully clear how much he was struggling. The same thought seemed to occur to Malfoy, who gave her a sheepish, stunned look before abruptly averting his gaze. His face flushed with shame and he gripped his glass so hard that his fingertips turned white.
It was then that a disturbing and alarming realization dawned on Hermione.
Malfoy was scared. Of her.
Oh, how smug her younger self would have been if this had happened back then. But now…it just made her sad.
Just how horridly had he been treated since the end of the war that he felt the need to protect himself from her of all people? Was he expecting her to take revenge on him for all those years at Hogwarts? Her, the so-called bleeding heart and peacekeeper of the Golden Trio?
Then again…maybe it was the very fact that because it was her that he was so anxious. Hermione was no fool, she was all too aware of her golden public image and high regard in the Wizarding World, and how drastically it encompassed his own reputation; she also knew because of that, it was very possible that she could get away with doing whatever she liked to him and the public would see it as the great, almighty Golden Girl giving the ex-Death Eater exactly what he deserved. At best, she may get a slap on the wrist, but would ultimately come out unscathed.
Hermione bit her lip, suddenly feeling a bizarre mixture of indignance and sorrow. Not even Draco Malfoy deserved to have fallen this far, especially when he was so plainly ashamed of it all. Hermione could practically feel the remorse and self-hatred clinging to him like a leech; another victim of Voldemort's terrible rule.
"Well, that's just ridiculous!" the Gryffindor proclaimed suddenly, causing Malfoy to jump in his seat. "Wasn't your probation supposed to be over a year ago? Why are they still monitoring you so heavily?"
Malfoy smiled sardonically. "Bastards extended it, of course. Weren't satisfied with me following all their stupid rules. I told you, they want to throw me in Azkaban, so they'll keep finding excuses to keep me on probation until they finally catch me doing something 'evil' enough to drag me off."
Hermione clenched her fists, disgusted at the Ministry's obvious bias. Malfoy noticed her consternation, and gave a slight huff of laughter. "It's really not that big a deal. Honestly, it's even better treatment than I expected. I get that standing up for the poor and pathetic is sort of your thing, but don't waste your energy on me, Granger. I'm not worth it."
"Well, I don't care what you think!" Hermione declared, ignoring the slight jab at her. "That's deplorable! How does the Wizengamot think we're going to move past this war if they keep favoring and punishing people because of it!? You were already tried, and you've served your sentence! Those old fools need to move on and stop giving you grief over this!"
Malfoy looked genuinely taken aback by her vehement defense of him. He ran a hand down his face, a red tinge creeping across his neck. "Granger-" he began tiredly, but Hermione was not done.
"Honestly! They love to preach about unity and healing, but they can't even let go of a grudge against a teenage boy who hardly even did anything worth mentioning compared to others!"
At this, Malfoy frowned deeply. "Granger…don't even try and act like I was some poor, innocent bystander. I'm sure you haven't forgotten it was me that cursed Katie Bell, poisoned your ex, and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts."
Hermione shook her head. "I never said you were innocent, I said that compared to others on your side, you hardly did a thing. I read your file before your trial, Malfoy. You never even killed anyone. That's a claim not even I can make. Do you realize how absurd that is? Wizarding England's precious Golden Girl has killed, but a former Death Eater hasn't. Yet they keep hounding you, unfairly extending your probation, and searching aimlessly for a reason to lock you up."
She paused to take a breath, not noticing the astonished look Malfoy was sending her.
"I know you made mistakes, Malfoy. I also know you were a Death Eater. I'm just saying…you weren't a very good one," she finished tentatively, unsure how he'd take her teasing.
Chancing a peek at him, Hermione's heart stuttered at the gentle smirk pulling at his lips. "Well, you're not wrong there," Malfoy agreed quietly. She allowed herself to stare at him a moment longer, noticing how the changing lights reflected beautifully off his silver eyes.
"Yes, well," she said quickly, clearing her throat, "it's just not right, none of it. I'm sorry you've been treated so horrendously, Malfoy." At this, his expression suddenly closed.
" Don't."
Hermione jerked slightly at his firm, warbled tone. He turned away from her, his lovely features contorting as though he were in pain. "Don't ever apologize to me, Granger. You are the absolute last person that should ever feel the need to apologize to me. I owe you everything…you owe me nothing."
She gaped openly. "Now, wait just a minute-"
"Granger, can you-" Malfoy raked a hand through his hair, "-just…shut up for a moment. I need to say this." Hermione's mouth snapped closed, heart racing.
The Slytherin knocked back the rest of his drink, slamming his glass down on the bar top. Then, as though it took all the strength in his body, Malfoy turned and began speaking. "I'm well aware that nothing I say or do will ever make up for the hell I put you through in school. I was a horrid, selfish little prat who was in way over his head, and I didn't even realize it until it was too late. I wasted all my time trying to be the person my father wanted me to be, and I never even stopped to consider what that really meant. So, even though it doesn't mean shite in the long run, just know that I am-" he swallowed harshly, "-truly sorry. For everything."
The noise from the club barely registered anymore. Though his words had been spoken at barely above a whisper, he might as well have yelled them at her with how they were replaying inside her head.
Hermione was speaking before she even realized her mouth had opened. "We were children, Malfoy. You were simply a product of your upbringing repeating everything that had been taught to you. Besides," she allowed herself to smirk a little, "it's not like you ever did any real damage. You just sneered and complained a lot."
She paused with a sigh. "In the end, I'm not going to let myself be held back by what was essentially nothing more than a silly schoolyard rivalry, and I don't think you should either. We're adults now, and that's all in the past. I'm not angry or upset with you. I haven't been for a long time."
Malfoy pursed his lips in displeasure. "You give me too much credit, Granger. Far too much credit. Frankly, I don't know how you can even stomach sitting here with me. I'm sure you haven't forgotten I was there when my insane bitch of an aunt carved that – that – that…into your arm."
Hermione visibly flinched, subconsciously clutching her arm where her heavily disillusioned scar was.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Shit, Granger, I-I didn't mean-"
Hermione shook her head quickly. Honestly, she didn't know if she could handle two heartfelt Malfoy apologies in one night; her head was still reeling from the first one.
She drew in a breath to steady herself. "I'm…tired, Malfoy. Of a lot of things. I'm tired of fighting and adventure. I'm tired of the limelight. I'm tired of everyone expecting the world from me, and feeling like I have to meet their standards because of my titles and reputation. I'm just tired. I realized shortly after the war ended that I didn't have the energy or room in my heart for hatred and grudges. So, I chose to let go. Whether or not you believe me is up to you, but the truth is I forgave you years ago. To hold on after…after everything would just be petty and damaging. So, I forgive you."
Malfoy was staring at her with wonder, as though she were some creature he'd never seen before. For a fleeting moment, Hermione thought his eyes looked suspiciously glossy.
He cleared his throat, looking down without a word. A brief silence stretched between them, not quite comfortable, but not nearly as tense as before.
"…Thank you, though," the Gryffindor spoke softly, "for your apology. It…means a lot."
He slowly shook his head. "It was the least I could do. And, um…thank you as well, Granger. For your forgiveness. Merlin knows I don't deserve it."
"It's not about whether or not you deserve it, Malfoy. It's me choosing not to allow myself to be poisoned by some stupid grudge." She quirked a brow at him. "Not everything is about you, y'know."
Malfoy chuckled, and Hermione felt strangely proud for making him laugh. "I suppose you may be right," he drawled sarcastically. She scoffed. "I'm the Brightest Witch of Our Age, Malfoy. I'm always right." They both snickered.
"Maybe…maybe you should consider doing the same. Forgiving yourself, I mean," the Gryffindor suggested tentatively.
Malfoy sighed. "Easier said than done, Granger. After all, I've spent the last three years wallowing in my mistakes. What ever will I do with my free time if I just let all that go?" Hermione gave a little half smile at his degrading humor. "Well, if you ever feel up to it, I know a great mind healer that helped me out a lot after the war. Or…you could just talk to me. Since you've already got a head start, and all."
Malfoy studied her silently for a moment. Then, the slightest of grins tugged at his lips. Hermione found herself smiling back, her chest and stomach fluttering at his expression.
"Gods, I wish he would smile at me like that all the time."
The sudden intrusive thought stole her breath. Hermione felt her face flush, a sensation like glowing embers alighting from the pile of ashes that was her withered heart warming her all the way through. She hadn't felt such a raw, genuine spark with anyone since…since…since Ron had kissed her in the Chamber of Secrets.
But even that heart stopping moment had been fueled mostly by adrenaline, and ultimately overshadowed by the battle going on around them.
This felt so…natural, so promising, so real.
After her and Ron's disastrous break up, Hermione had honestly wondered if she'd ever feel this way again. It scared her more than words could say, but also excited her beyond measure.
"Do you want to dance?" The words were out of her mouth before her brain could even think about stopping them.
Malfoy was looking at her like she'd grown an extra head. "Dance?" he slowly repeated as though he'd never heard the word before in his life.
Hermione's cheeks warmed with embarrassment, but her Gryffindor courage held fast. "Yes. With me."
His eyes flitted briefly to the crowded dance floor then back to her. "I – I'm not sure that's a good idea, Granger…"
She placed her hands on her hips. "And why is that?"
Malfoy swallowed. "Well, I…you – it's just…"
Hermione fought back a chuckle at how clearly flustered he'd become. "Look Malfoy, if you really don't want to, that's fine. But if you're just floundering for an excuse because you think you shouldn't for whatever reason, then I can't accept your refusal." He shot her a slightly annoyed glance. She cocked her head challengingly. "What's the matter, Malfoy? Don't tell me you're still scared of me!"
As though she'd lit a fire under his arse, Malfoy smacked the bar top and stood up, glaring down at her. "Fucking hell woman, fine! If you're that desperate for me, then get off your arse and I'll dance you up until you can hardly walk!"
Smiling triumphantly, Hermione took his offered hand and followed him to the dancefloor, ignoring his disgruntled mutterings that sounded like, "Damn pushy Gryffindor."
Once they'd worked their way through the crowd, Malfoy placed a hand on her waist and pulled her to him, ensuring to keep a respectable amount of distance between their bodies. Hermione snickered a bit, holding his shoulder with her free hand as he lead them into a box step. "Malfoy, you know this is a club, not a ball, right?"
He sniffed disdainfully. "As if I'd make a fool of myself jumping and flailing about in the ridiculous manner these people call 'dancing.' I'd rather take a dip in Black Lake with the giant squid, thank you."
Hermione gave a massive eyeroll. Though he'd clearly gone through some significant changes, it seemed his aristocratic upbringing had yet to release its hold on him. And people said she needed to loosen up!
Noticing her expression, Malfoy smirked mischievously. "What? Did you want me to grind against you in front of all these people? In that case, all you had to do was ask, Granger."
The mental image conjured up by his suggestive words made her insides knot. The smarmy Slytherin was undoubtedly expecting her to brush off his provocative quip with a roll of her eyes and a smack to his chest; something the Hermione of three years prior would have done without question.
However, he wasn't expecting nor prepared for this post war, post-break up Hermione who'd just developed a rapidly blossoming attraction towards him.
Throwing up her eyebrow with a small smile, Hermione replied, "Oh? Well, in that case-" Before Malfoy could blink, the Golden Girl had wound her arms around his neck and yanked him closer. His hands landed on her waist, their faces now inches apart.
Hermione would have laughed at his absolutely bewildered expression if she hadn't just realized how fucking amazing he smelled.
Squashing the urge to lean closer and take a big inhale – because that wouldn't be creepy at all – she linked her fingers behind his neck and smirked. "Well, Malfoy? I'm ready to be swept off my feet."
The Slytherin visibly swallowed, and she smiled wider. Drawing this kind of reaction from him of all people lit a degree of satisfaction in her that she'd not felt in years.
Not to be outdone, Malfoy gathered himself and lifted his chin in a challenging manner. "Oh, I don't know about that, Granger. You've never been romanced by a Malfoy, now have you? I'm not so sure you can handle it."
Hermione sniggered. "I handled you plenty well back in school, did I not? I gave you quite a walloping in third year, if I recall."
Sweet Circe, this was happening. She was blatantly flirting with him. And he was actually flirting back. Did it just get a few degrees hotter in here?
As the pair began to subconsciously sway to the music, Malfoy scoffed at her words. "It was hardly a walloping, Granger! You just broke my nose." She snorted. "Well, either way, you deserved it."
He grumbled something under his breath.
"Hm? So sorry, didn't quite catch that," Hermione crooned. He scowled down at her playfully. "You are just as insufferable as ever, you know that?"
Rather than incite anger, his little quip made her laugh. She didn't miss the adorable little smile that tugged insistently on his mouth in response.
"Well, I guess some things will never really change," Hermione said with a shrug.
Malfoy went silent, gazing at her searchingly for a long moment. "Perhaps," he said softly, "but a few particular changes I certainly wouldn't mind…"
Her heart stuttered, brown eyes going wide at the implication of his words. Malfoy copied her expression, as though shocked by what had just come out of his own mouth. He dropped his gaze, eyes darting about for a moment in mild panic. The action caused several strands of platinum hair to fall into his face.
Before she could stop herself, Hermione reached out and tucked the hair back into place. Malfoy jolted, eyes springing back hers as though her touch had electrocuted him.
For several lingering moments, the unlikely pair watched one another in silence. Hermione couldn't tell if that incessant pounding was coming from the music or her chest. Had he always been so much taller than her?
The hands on her waist suddenly felt like hot, branding iron, and she found herself wanting them all over her. Hermione unconsciously bit her lip at the thought. Malfoy's eyes darted down to her mouth at the action, something that didn't escape her notice.
The fragile self-control that had been gripping onto her for dear life then slipped away.
Before she could second-guess herself and ruin everything, Hermione surged forward, capturing his mouth with her own. She could practically feel his astonishment as his whole body went taut; however, that didn't erase how unbelievably soft his lips were, or how she could taste remnants of scotch and tobacco when she boldly swiped her tongue across his bottom lip.
Did he smoke? She was unbelievably curious to know.
When a few moments passed and Malfoy still hadn't responded, Hermione was about to pull away and apologize; but then, his hand grasped the back of her neck and pulled her into him until there was no space left between their bodies. She sighed into his mouth as he opened up for her, tongues clashing and teeth knocking with renewed fervor. What the kiss lacked in grace it made up for in passion, leaving them both pining for more.
Only when she started to get dizzy from lack of oxygen did she part from him.
Malfoy's silver eyes had darkened to more of a grey as he panted against her face. His mouth was smudged red from her lipstick, a sight that caused a possessive stab of arousal in her abdomen.
Desperate to taste more of him, Hermione trailed her lips across his jaw and down his neck, uncaring of where they were or who might be watching them. Malfoy's hands trembled against her, his breath coming in short gasps.
"Granger…" he breathed. The sound of her name made her moan into his neck.
Without pausing her ministrations, Hermione slid a hand down his chest, where she felt his heart racing beneath his ribcage.
"Malfoy," she whispered into his ear.
A low rumble arose from his throat, and then he was kissing her again. His lips brushed along her jaw where he placed a warm, wet kiss right against the sensitive spot below her ear. Hermione trembled in his arms, keening softly as he sucked at the spot before laving his tongue against her earlobe.
It was a good thing he was holding her so tightly, otherwise Hermione was certain she'd melt into a puddle at his feet. Merlin, she'd never been so aroused in her life!
Malfoy's hand wandered down her back and curled tentatively around her arse, as though testing the boundaries of this little…whatever it was. In response, she shamelessly grinded her hips against his, making him groan into her ear. His own arousal was firm and obvious against her belly. Realizing how affected he was by her sent both excitement and nervousness through Hermione.
The Gryffindor was highly aware of where things were headed at this rate; and she'd not slept with anyone since her break up with Ron. In typical Hermione fashion, dozens of intrusive thoughts and queries started bombarding her lust-addled brain.
If she slept with him, would it just be a one-time thing, or was he expecting more? What was she even hoping for from this? Yes, they'd just had a very personal and honest conversation that cleared the air between them, and she wouldn't even try to deny that she was ridiculously attracted to him, but that didn't necessarily mean she suddenly had feelings for him. Despite their little heart-to-heart, Hermione still didn't really know Draco. Could she really trust him enough to invite him into her bed?
"Granger?" The soft whisper snapped her attention back to the man she was dancing with. Malfoy eyed her anxiously and said, "Are you alright? Did I…make you uncomfortable?"
Hermione blinked, and suddenly, all her worries were washed away in the face of his genuinely concerned expression. She didn't want him to look like that; she wanted him to smile again. Wanted him to smile at her.
As she placed a hand against his face, Hermione knew her decision was made. She'd spent her late childhood and teenage years making sacrifices, both little and small, for others. A majority of her decisions were made in consideration of the people in her life, of strangers that relied on her, and of those that may be watching; all hazards of constantly being in the limelight.
For once in her life, Hermione wanted to stop thinking and do what she wanted to do, consequences be damned. And right now, she could think of nothing – and no one – that she wanted more than Draco Malfoy.
Leaning forward, Hermione kissed him once, twice, and thrice before inclining herself up to whisper into his ear. "Come back to my place?"
Malfoy drew in a sharp breath. "Granger, you – a-are you sure?" She nodded, nipping at his jawline. "Yes…I need you."
Merlin, she'd never even been this bold with Ron! What had this man done to her?
Shuddering, Malfoy kissed her one last time before muttering, "Lead the way."
Grinning, Hermione took his hand and proceeded to essentially drag him from the club. On the way, she spotted Ginny's distinct red hair by the DJ booth. Further inspection revealed her to be chatting animatedly with Blaise Zabini, a sight that made Hermione's eyes widen. It seems they were both being accosted by former snakes tonight.
Ginny noticed her just before she'd stepped out of view. The redhead went predictably slack jawed upon noticing her friend leading Draco Malfoy by the hand.
Hermione offered a shy smile, inclining her head in Malfoy's direction in a silent declaration of intent. Ginny blinked several times before smiling excitedly and sending her two thumbs up.
Relieved and glad to have Ginny's support, Hermione waved goodbye before hurriedly exiting the club, Malfoy in toe. Once concealed in an empty alley, the Gryffindor apparated them right to her bedroom in her little London flat.
After the brief disorientation passed, Hermione wasted no time wrapping herself around Malfoy, their lips meeting with frenzied need. She ran her hands reverently down the soft fabric of his shirt, spine tingling at the promising feel of what laid beneath it. Impatient, Hermione fumbled with the buttons until she'd freed them all and, with Malfoy's help, pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She pulled back slightly to take in his lithe, well-built frame, biting her lip as she caressed her way down his chest and stomach. His fair skin was soft aside from the raised flesh of a few prominent scars, but not even those could subtract from his beauty.
"You're gorgeous…" Hermione unconsciously whispered.
Malfoy's eyes lit up as he smirked. "Tell me something I don't know, Granger."
Her responding scoff dissolved into a moan as he tackled her mouth again. They stumbled backwards until her back met the wall, one of his large hands holding the back of her head protectively while the other swept over the curve of her arse. Hermione hooked one leg around his waist, causing her shoe to slip off her foot and clatter to the floor. They both groaned at his erection pushed against her clothed sex.
Malfoy pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck as he reached around her until he found the zip of her dress. When the stubborn thing got stuck halfway down, he growled lowly before spinning her around.
Hermione gasped as he shoved her chest-first into the wall, his roughness only turning her on more.
Malfoy yanked the zipper the rest of the way down, possibly tearing it in the process, but neither of them were in any headspace to care. Hermione's dress pooled around her feet, exposing her skin to the cool air.
"Fuck…" Malfoy rasped, grasping her arse firmly in both hands. Hermione moaned as he squeezed each cheek in rough succession. "Sweet Circe, Granger. If I'd known you were hiding this lovely thing under your school robes all those years, I might've been a little nicer to you," Malfoy teased as he continued to fondle her.
Hermione eyed him from over her shoulder with a smirk. "You could still be nice to me now…" she crooned suggestively.
He leaned in and nibbled on her ear, drawing a soft sigh from her. "I suppose…or maybe, for old times' sake-" His fingers suddenly slipped into her knickers, and she gasped as he rubbed gentle circles into her clit. "-I'll just tease you for a while instead," he purred.
"Malfoy…" Hermione moaned breathily.
His breath hitched when he swiped across her entrance, slick and warm with arousal. "So wet…how are you already this wet?" Malfoy breathed with a mixture of excitement and wonder. His words snapped her remaining thread of patience.
Pushing off the wall, Hermione spun around and grasped the Slytherin by his hips. Taking advantage of his surprise, she led him backwards until his calves hit her bedframe, then roughly shoved him down. Malfoy hit the mattress so hard he sprung back up a bit, a sight she might have laughed at were she not so painfully aroused.
Rather than look put-off by her rough treatment, Malfoy's eyes darkened with lust as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He watched her hungrily as she kicked off her remaining shoe, licked his lips when she unclipped her bra and flung it away, then swallowed as she tugged off her knickers. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of her breathtaking naked form.
Hermione walked her fingers up his clothed erection, making him flinch in surprise. "I'm not in the mood for your teasing, Malfoy," she drawled, slowly climbing on top of him.
His breathing grew noticeably heavier as she undid his belt. Then, at an agonizing pace, she pulled down his jeans and underwear in one go, yanking his shoes off while she was at it. Hermione rubbed her thighs together when Malfoy's cock sprung free, fully erect and dripping precum. Unable to resist such an enticing sight, she boldly wrapped her fingers around his shaft and circled the head with her thumb.
"Fuck…" Malfoy gasped, falling back onto the bed with a blissful expression. Hermione smiled proudly at his reaction. Ron had never been very receptive to her taking charge in the bedroom; he let her do it, but never encouraged nor requested it.
Malfoy on the other hand seemed to like her dominating attitude, gazing up at her with hooded, needy eyes as he bit down on his bottom lip. The sight made her confidence soar as she pumped him, reveling in the small grunts and breathy swears he yielded.
However, she could ignore her own pleasure no longer, and decidedly straddled him before positioning him at her entrance.
Realizing her intentions, Malfoy's eyes widened. "W-Wait."
Hermione froze, looking up at him warily. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?" At her fearful tone, he sat up and kissed her reassuringly. "Don't be daft, I'm harder than I've been in years."
"Then what's the problem?"
Malfoy drew back, casting her a mildly serious look. "I want to do something for you. Will you let me?"
Hermione's breath hitched at his husky tone. "What did you have in mind?"
He licked his lips. "I want you to ride my face."
The Gryffindor blinked in surprise. "R-Ride your-" She paused, face growing warmer at the mental image. "Are you sure? I mean, I haven't tried that before…will you be able to breathe?" Malfoy smirked confidently. "Oh? In that case, I want you to do it even more. Not everyday you get to teach the great Hermione Granger something." Hermione sniffed at the jab, twisting her fingers together nervously.
Malfoy cupped her cheek gently, leaning in for a deep, longing kiss. "Don't worry about me, Granger. I want to do this," he murmured against her lips. "Let me pleasure you, love. I want to taste that beautiful pussy…say that you'll let me."
Hermione trembled at his gentle, beseeching tone. She couldn't recall any of her past partners being so eager to pleasure her in such a way.
Pulling him back in for a fierce kiss, she pushed down her reservations and whispered, "Lie down."
Malfoy's eyes shuddered at the command, his cock twitching against her thigh. Without hesitation, he scooted backwards until his head rested nicely against the pillows. Hermione followed and carefully straddled his face, her knees on either side of his head. She could barely see his eyes from this angle, the silver depths wide and fixed upon her dripping cunt. Before lowering herself down Hermione directed him to lay his hands on her thighs. "If you can't breathe, squeeze my legs twice, alright?" Malfoy nodded tersely at her instructions, clearly ready for her to get on with it.
Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione steadily lowered herself onto his waiting mouth. Malfoy groaned happily between her legs, his eager tongue darting out to caress her throbbing clit.
She keened as his hot mouth engulfed her, back arching as she held onto the headboard so she didn't put her full weight on him. "Malfoy, oh! Gods…"
He hummed when she moaned his name, the vibrations sending her even higher.
Panting, Hermione began gently rocking her hips, giving a high-pitched whine each time her clit bumped his nose. What do you know, those pointy features of his were good for something.
"That's it, Malfoy…more…mmm, move your tongue just a little faster…ah, yes! Just like that! I'm so close…don't stop, don't stop!"
Her heated cries egged him on, his dutiful mouth obeying her every command with delight.
Hermione played with one of her breasts, teasing the nipple into a hardened peak. Malfoy groaned at the sight, and that was her undoing. Her legs shook as she came hard on his tongue, the blinding pleasure making her eyes roll back into her head.
Once her orgasm subsided, Hermione sat back on his chest while she caught her breath. Her thighs and knees were cursing her name right now, but fuck that was so worth it! She couldn't remember ever coming in such a short amount of time!
"Don't mean to interrupt, but that lovely arse of yours is currently crushing me," Malfoy said in a strained voice. "Oh, sorry," she sighed, moving down his body so she was straddling his hips. He sat up on his elbows and smirked. "Wouldn't have been a terrible way to go, I suppose." Hermione quirked a grin, eyes roving over his handsome face which was glistening from her juices. The sight awoke something primal within her.
Clutching the back of his head, Hermione guided his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue. She slid her dripping cunt over his cock, drawing a needy sigh from both of them.
"You did a very good job, Malfoy. I think you deserve a reward," Hermione purred against his mouth. Malfoy smirked sinfully. "Wonderful, I was thinking the same thing." She scoffed and bit his lower lip. "Don't push your luck, Malfoy."
He shivered beneath her, then pressed his palm to her abdomen and muttered a contraception charm. She was on the potion, but it was still very considerate of him to place the charm.
"Then by all means, Granger…" He slowly lifted his hips so that the head of his cock brushed against her entrance. "…Reward me."
Unable to deny them both any longer, Hermione grasped his hard shaft in her hand and gradually began to sink onto him. Malfoy bit his lip, brow furrowing as he watched himself disappear inside her. She couldn't hold back her pleased moans as every inch of his cock caressed her walls, hitting all the right places.
When her hips met his, they both gave a sigh of contentment.
Perfect, Hermione thought. He was so fucking perfect.
Not lacking like a few of her past partners, but also not as uncomfortably large as Ron had been. It felt like he was made to fit inside her.
She rocked her hips experimentally, and Malfoy fell back on the bed with a groan. "Fuck…ride me, love," he gasped, gazing up at her with what could only be described as adoration.
Despite their situation, Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Never had she felt so powerful on top of a man, so wanted. Malfoy, her childhood rival and once enemy, was looking at her like she was royalty.
Filing away such thoughts for later, Hermione began to bounce up and down on his cock. Malfoy met her with firm thrusts, creating a steady rhythm that drew dulcet sounds from both of them. His eyes darted from her face, to the place they were connected, to her breasts bouncing tantalizingly in front of his face.
Noticing this, Hermione cast him a sultry look as she took one in her hand, rolling the nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Malfoy growled and sat up quicker than she could register. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own, swiftly taking her pebbled nipple with his mouth.
Hermione cried out as he none-too-gently sucked at one of the sensitive peaks while he tweaked the other with his nimble fingers. "Gods, fuck! Yes! Harder…bite me…fuck me…harder! Malfoy, please!"
"Holy shit, Granger," Malfoy rasped, snapping his hips faster. Hermione keened, his cock hitting that wonderful spot inside her again and again, effectively turning her brain to mush. She was vaguely aware of his teeth biting, nipping, sucking everywhere they could reach, and she couldn't get enough.
She needed more, more, more of him.
Nails digging into his shoulders, Hermione shoved him back down onto the bed, hovering over him as she desperately slammed down onto his cock.
A positively delicious sound arose from Malfoy's throat, encouraging her frantic efforts. His cock kissed her g-spot and her clit ground against his pelvis with each thrust, causing the sweet coil to tighten.
Hermione reveled in the control he willingly gave her, experimenting with various rolls of her hips. She adored making his eyes go out of focus, loved watching him bite down on his lip to keep his cries at bay.
The sight of him so unhinged awoke something feral and wanton in her. She needed to watch him fall apart beneath her, needed to see what he looked like in the throes of ecstasy.
Without pausing her punishing pace, Hermione wove her fingers into his hair and yanked his head back. Then, she leaned down to place a firm, demanding kiss on his perfect lips. Malfoy struggled to return it through his heavy pants and grunts.
"Come for me, Malfoy," Hermione rasped against his mouth. "I'm so close…want you to come…yes, yes, oh!" She cried out as she clamped down around him, wave after wave of mind-melting pleasure rolling through her.
"Granger – fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Malfoy gasped as he followed after her, one hand squeezing her hip while the other pulled at the sheets. His back arched and his body spasmed so hard he nearly bucked her off.
Hermione hissed as his seed flooded her, the sensation drawing out her release as it tapered off into small, pleasant pulses. She continued to gently rock against him, curious to see how long she could prolong his own climax. It wasn't until he seized her hips in a vice-like grasp and begged her to stop that she finally let herself rest.
Hermione sat motionless atop him as they both caught their breath. Malfoy's arm was thrown over his eyes, a thin sheen of sweat coating his chest. She couldn't resist running her hands up and down his lovely torso, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss every inch of him. She didn't think either of them could handle another round at the moment.
Malfoy slowly uncovered his face, gazing up at her with half-lidded eyes. Hermione squirmed as he stared at her for a long, long moment, wishing she could tell what he was thinking.
Then, his kiss-bruised lips quirked into a little half-smirk, half-smile. "You're fucking beautiful, Granger."
Despite the fact that she was currently sitting naked on top of him after a round of mind-blowing sex, his comment made her blush like a schoolgirl.
Malfoy gave a low, genuine laugh at her reaction and pulled her down to lie atop him. Hermione buried her face into his shoulder to hide her embarrassment. His softening shaft slipped out of her, drawing a slight wince from both of them. Something warm and slick slid down her thighs, making her grow even redder.
Damn, she was going to have to wash these sheets several times over.
A sort of strained silence stretched between them while Malfoy slowly stroked her back. It felt oddly like a lover's embrace, even though they were most certainly not…that.
Anxiousness started prickling in the back of Hermione's mind, all the questions and worries she'd pushed aside returning with a vengeance.
At the same time however, a wave of exhaustion swept over her, the events of the evening along with the usual end-of-week fatigue knocking at her fading consciousness. A yawn she couldn't quite suppress worked its way up, drawing his attention.
"You should sleep, Granger," Malfoy said quietly.
Hermione pursed her lips, still not turning to face him. "So should you."
Another awkward period of silence. "I can leave, if you're uncomfortable," he offered tentatively.
She contemplated his offer, though not as long as she possibly should have. "It's fine. You can stay…if you like."
After a lengthy moment, Malfoy nodded against her. Hermione rolled off of him and slid beneath the sheets while he did the same. With their backs facing each other, they whispered mildly awkward goodnights.
It had been a long time since Hermione had shared a bed with anyone but her cat; but she couldn't lie, the lingering warmth of another body next to her felt sort of nice.
The last thing she remembered before drifting off was a gentle, hesitant touch on her waist.
The next morning, the space next to Hermione was empty.
She stared at the spot blankly for a time as her sluggish morning brain attempted to collect its feelings on the matter.
In complete honesty, a part of her was relieved. There would be no uncomfortable 'morning after' conversation to bear, no daunting 'what now?' question hanging between them. By leaving, he'd made his feelings on the matter clear.
However, she also couldn't deny the stab of disappointment she felt at his absence.
With a sigh, Hermione climbed out of bed, hissing as her legs cramped when she tried to use them. Powering through the discomfort, she trudged to the bathroom.
The Gryffindor bit back a yelp as she caught her reflection in the mirror. 'Thoroughly shagged' did not even come close to describing her appearance. Her unruly hair resembled a lion's mane, several inches taller and wider than normal. Her entire upper body was a minefield of love bites, hell, she could even see teeth-marks around her areolas. Finger-shaped bruises decorated her hips, and dried semen coated the inside of her thighs.
Shite, Hermione thought as she chuckled awkwardly.
Her vague amusement at the ridiculousness of her appearance only lasted a moment, swiftly replaced by burning embarrassment. As she turned on the shower, the events of last night came rushing back, causing a deep flush to appear all the way down to her breasts.
She couldn't believe how audacious and bold she'd acted! And hell, she hadn't been very drunk at all, so she couldn't even blame it on alcohol!
As Hermione scrubbed off the scent of sex and Malfoy, her overactive brain considered her rather out-of-character actions of the night before. When she really stopped to think about it, maybe it wasn't so strange that Draco Malfoy was the one to draw such reactions from her. Even back in school, he'd always had a tendency of bringing out a side of her that rarely, if ever, saw the surface. To this day, he remained as the only person she'd even punched. In that respect, Hermione determined that it wasn't too surprising that such…chemistry…would translate to…other things.
The sex had been good. It had been really good. It very well might have been the best sex she'd ever had.
Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy, supposed 'Sex god of Slytherin,' would enjoy a woman taking control in the bedroom?
And that was likely where the bulk of the disappointment came from; the knowledge that she wouldn't be having such fantastic sex again any time soon.
However, she also couldn't deny the pure curiosity she'd harbored for Malfoy himself, either. Would they have become friends, had he stayed? Friends with benefits, perhaps? Or, dare she even consider it, was there the slightest chance that they could have been more?
Hermione shook her head as she climbed out of the shower. Contemplating 'what ifs' did no good now. All she could do was try and put it behind her and move on.
She towel-dried her hair as she exited the bathroom in a loose-fitting robe. As she pondered whether or not to disillusion the hickeys, something from the corner of her eye made her pause.
Malfoy's shirt was still there.
Hermione swallowed, trying not to jump to conclusions. He probably apparated out…maybe he was in such a hurry to leave that he forgot it.
But then, she spotted his shoes laying by her bed in the same place she'd dropped them last night. Surely, he wouldn't leave without those.
Then, a certain detail that had somehow escaped her notice stuck out to her like a sore thumb-
The balcony door was open.
Heart racing, Hermione inched towards the door until she could make out the form hidden behind it. Standing there on her little balcony, shirtless and smoking, was Draco Malfoy.
Despite her pounding heart, the first thought that occurred to her was that he did smoke after all.
"Um…good morning," Hermione said tentatively.
"Morning, Granger," Malfoy replied with a cigarette between his teeth.
She leaned against the doorframe and chewed her bottom lip, brain scrambling for a response. "Thank you for not doing that in the house," she finally settled on. Malfoy shrugged. "I'm aware it's a disgusting habit. My mother still nags me about it. Figured you felt the same." Hermione shrugged as well. "You're right, I don't care for it, but it's your life. Harry smokes too, actually. Has since after the war. He's been trying to quit, but it's not easy, even for him."
Malfoy hummed contemplatively. "Even the great and powerful Potter can't be perfect at everything," he sneered, but there was no real malice in his tone.
They fell into silence, listening to the early morning hustle and bustle below. Hermione took the moment to study him. He'd not come out of their little tryst unmarked either; scratch marks marred his shoulders and the back of his neck. His hair was messier than she'd ever seen it, the platinum strands lying haphazardly atop his head, and there were several smears and stains on his pale skin from her lipstick. She wondered if he knew they were there, or if he simply didn't care.
Hermione felt strangely proud of them; they were evidence that what occurred the night before wasn't some fever dream, despite it somewhat feeling like one the more she remembered it.
Swallowing with trepidation, Hermione slowly opened here mouth to speak, but Malfoy's sigh cut her off.
"Look Granger," he began steadily, "I don't want you stressing yourself out over me. If you want last night to be nothing more than a casual fling, just say the word."
Hermione blinked at his words. He was…leaving the decision up to her? When he could have just walked out and saved them both the trouble of putting a label on it? Did that mean he wanted to put a label on their relationship? Or was he just being courteous?
Licking her lips, she slowly responded. "What do you want it to be?" Malfoy stiffened, though she still couldn't see his face.
"I mean, I guess what I'm asking is…what did last night mean to you?" Hermione continued nervously.
He took a long drag of his cigarette in lieu of answering. As the seconds dragged on in silence, a sense of resignation built up in her chest.
"It's alright Malfoy, you can be honest. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings, or anything. I wasn't trying to trap you in a relationship, I just wanted to make sure there weren't any misunderstandings between us. A-Anyway, if it didn't mean anything to you, that's fine. I'm not going to push you to change your mind." Hermione rambled, desperate to dispel the strained air between them.
Malfoy gave a heavy sigh. "Granger, you really should let people speak before you jump to conclusions." He finally turned to face her, his silver eyes studying her so intently that her throat went dry. "You want honesty, Granger? Then you should know that last night was the best night I've had in…years. And I don't just mean the sex, bloody good as it was."
Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers.
"And what I want, Granger," Malfoy continued, eyes darkening, "is to snog you senseless right now."
She bit her lip as her face warmed, nervously pulling at one of her curls. "O-Oh. Well, um…why didn't you just say so?" He shrugged, leaning against the balcony rails. "I didn't want to scare you off. I know one spectacular night doesn't erase our less-than favorable past." Hermione slowly nodded. "You do have a point." He snorted. "I was second in marks behind you for five years straight, Granger. I'm a lot smarter than I look." She chuckled lightly at his quip.
Malfoy offered a hint of a smile when their eyes met. Twisting her fingers together, Hermione summoned her Gryffindor courage to say what she wanted.
"Do you…have any feelings for me, Malfoy?" His eyes tightened a bit at her question. As he took a nervous drag, she remained quiet this time and allowed him to think through his answer.
The faded Dark Mark on his left forearm caught her eye. She hadn't the slightest idea how she hadn't seen it last night. She noticed the Mark was marred by several thin, white lines, making her heart clench painfully.
Exhaling the smoke slowly through his nose, Malfoy cautiously replied to her question. "It's possible, I suppose. I mean, I did have a ridiculous little crush on you in fourth year."
Hermione sputtered, her previous saddening realization overshadowed by his words. "W-What!? You – you liked me in fourth year!?"
He shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal. "You were undoubtedly the best looking girl at the Yule Ball, I'm sure most of the blokes had crushes on you that year."
Her mouth hung open at his casual declaration, unable to process what he'd just told her.
Malfoy finished off his cigarette and vanished the remains before fixing her with a heated glance. "What about you, Granger? Got any feelings for me rattling about in that bleeding heart of yours?"
Hermione's mouth snapped shut. She looked away and seriously pondered the notion for a good while.
Did she like him? Well, she definitely respected him after the sensitive things he'd revealed to her last night, as well as how maturely he was handling this whole situation. She appreciated his willingness to communicate his thoughts and desires, both in bed and in conversation.
That had always been an issue she and Ron had shared.
While she was hesitant to jump into a new relationship, particularly after how badly her last one ended, she couldn't deny that she was unbearably curious to explore this…whatever it was between them. What Hermione knew for certain was that the spark she shared with Malfoy was unlike anything she'd experienced before…and she couldn't help but feel like she'd be missing out on something wonderful if she didn't give it a chance.
"I think…I could have feelings for you if we give it enough time…Draco," Hermione said quietly, his first name weighing heavily on her tongue.
Draco sucked in a breath when she spoke his name, then gave a wobbly smirk. "I think I can live with that…Hermione."
A pleasant shiver rushed down her spine, her name falling sinfully yet sweetly from his lips. Draco's pale hand cupped her jaw as he leaned in, kissing her experimentally, almost chastely. Hermione sighed into his mouth, and not even the lingering flavor of tobacco was enough to subtract from the exciting promise the kiss held.