Chapter 16: Deliver-Floo
"Here, darling," he cast a charm that blew a continuous stream of warm air over her like she was being dried by a giant, gentle hand blower.
"thank you," she muttered as she waited to see what he'd do next. She was utterly fascinated by him, bathing her and taking her to bed without laying a finger on her. All the while, she's more tightly wound and turned on than a teenager at Yule Ball.
He knelt before her, slipping the oversized grey jogging pants, she kept for bloated days, over her feet and dragging them slowly over her calves. He kept his lip gripped in his teeth and his eyes affixed to the waistband of the joggers as he pushed them over her knees. Sliding the elasticated trim up her thighs and under the towel. She lifted her bum without request as his knuckles left a fiery trail of gooseflesh as they skimmed her clean skin. Clean skin and a filthy mind .
He gave her arse a short squeeze when it was fully covered and snapped the waistband, breaking the spell and bringing his eyes back to hers. A smirk played on his lips as if he knew what she wanted but wasn't going to give it to her. Reading into this far too deeply, Hermione felt a sudden surge of competitive rage. Without thinking it through or weighing the cons, she undid her towel and let it drop behind her on the bed. She smirked back and raised her arms. Go on then, dress me.
Draco let out a whoosh of air, his eyes dragged for a moment down her chest, his grin spreading wider. Then, to her horror, he plopped the red sweatshirt over her head, standing to pull her arms through, before kneeling back down and trailing the backs of his knuckles across her peaked nipples as he pulled the hem down, covering her again. When he was finished pulling her damp hair out of the neck and rolling up the too-long sleeves, he leaned into her. "Stop trying to distract me from taking care of you," he muttered against her face, then pushed a gentle kiss to her cheek.
She made to protest, but he had her scooped in his arms. Her own found their way around his neck, again for stability. "Socks!" he remembered suddenly, pulling the arm from her back and putting the onus of her weight on her arms around his neck. He seemed unbothered by the heft. He's so strong . Her gut clenched. He opened her top drawer where she kept her knickers, bras and socks, and she watched with a fluttering core as he dragged his fingers over her finery. "Socks," he repeated, more for himself. Bringing him back into the present. His fingers curled around a fluffy ball, and they were off again. He found her sitting room by deduction and placed her on the large L-shaped sofa.
"Incendio." he lit the fire in her grate and poured her a glass of wine from a bottle he had suddenly procured from nowhere.
"Can I get you anything else?" he enquired as he slipped onto the sofa beside her, but not nearly close enough.
"I'm sorry our date was ruined." Hermione bent her head to sip her wine, casting her eyes up to him only for a second.
"Oh, I don't know about all that, Hermione. Certainly, the evening I had planned was shat upon by a terror hawk, but I wouldn't say everything was ruined." he swirled his glass. He'd practised this bit in his head as he washed her hair. "Here's me, with a beautiful woman, a glass of wine and a roaring fire. I'd say this is the best date I've ever been on."
Is this real? Hermione asked herself the same question over and over. It felt real. She'd never written a story about Draco Malfoy punching a bigot then bathing her. So this must be real? If it wasn't real, then what was he playing at? Perhaps he's got a fetish for invalids. That's why he keeps carrying me. She screamed at the voice in her head to shut up and shot him another glance. He was smirking at her.
"What?" she finally asked when he refused to move his gaze.
"It's a desperately sad state of affairs when a young woman of your calibre has her mind blown by a man who enjoys tending her needs." he shook his head and took another drink. "I can literally hear your thoughts with no magic at all, Granger. Why is he doing this? What does this mean? What's his motivation?" he raised his eyebrows as if to say, am I wrong?
"shut up." was all she could rebut. She sank into the corner of the sofa, drawing her freezing feet up to her bum.
"No." He smiled and slid towards her, placing his glass on the table and drawing the socks he'd picked up from his pocket. "To answer your unspoken questions, Granger, Because I like you, it means I like you, and my motivation is liking you." he spoke gently as he slid one sock after the other onto her feet, then squeezed her toes. "so there."
"You're an insufferable know it all." she tutted, but still, her foot curled into his touch.
"And you thought we had nothing in common." he moved back from her again, picking up his drink and reclining into the soft cushions. "Muggles really do comfy furniture so much better than us," he said as he wriggled, drawing all the comfort he could from the marvellous settee.
Hermione watched him, her brain whizzing through all the ways she could distract him from his 'caring' and divert his attention elsewhere. He's a human, not a sex doll. She scolded herself for her single-mindedness.
"What was the plan for tonight anyway?" She asked, but a green flare of the fire and the sudden appearance of a large chest stopped her. "What the hell?"
"Dinner!" he clapped his hands and lunged for the grate before the floo closed, and his parcel was burnt to cinders.
"how…" Hermione blinked.
"Ah, it's a new service the elves have been working on." he grinned, hauling the ancient chest onto her coffee table. "You can put in an order for food, and they deliver to your floo. The elves love it because they get to serve more people while charging them restaurant prices for the convenience." He pulled several pieces of fine china laden with steaming food onto her table, silver wear, more wine and a perpetually frozen ice cream Sunday. It was Hogwart's level of indulgence.
"Deliver-floo," Hermione murmured as she eyed a piece of fried chicken hungrily. She had intended to nibble on a salad and indulge in a pudding as a treat, but Malfoy had put her in her eating pants, so… it would be rude not to tuck in. She slid onto the floor, and he joined her so they could use her low coffee table as a dining surface. The now-empty chest vanished with a pop. "It's really impressive. What happens to the plates?"
"it's essentially Hogwarts on a massive scale, so once you're done, the plate vanishes back to the House Elf kitchens." he served her, placing the chicken she'd been eyeing and some roast potatoes on her plate. "Gravy, my darling?"
"That's ingenious!" she held out her plate for him to pour the hot brown liquid and add some greens. "Sign me up. I hate cooking."
"So, Hermione, tell me…."He leaned back on the base of the sofa, picking pasta off his plate with an elegant fork "what are you reading just now?" he smiled as he chewed the delicious penne.
Hermione's stomach clenched. The mere mention of books had her innards fizzing since their library interlude. "Edgar Maddens new guide to Curse installation, The Druidic almanack and some muggle thing my mum sent me about a woman who works too hard then falls in love and works less." she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, your mother does subtle messaging in gifts too?" he laughed. "Narcissa bought me a cologne which is supposed to make me seem less abrasive. It smelled like the divination tower and gave me a migraine."
"How is she?" Hermione wondered if this was the first time they'd had a conversation, which didn't revolve around paperwork, elves or the veiled promise of sexual gratification.
"Very well," He nodded. "Mother splits her time between Paris and London. You'd be amazed at what a few kind words from Potter did for her social calendar."
"She's been very generous with her money and time for the Free Wolfsbane committee." Hermione didn't like Narcissa, she was terrified of her, but she admired her nonetheless.
"Ah yes, I forgot that was one of yours." he nodded "a great passion of mothers is the protection of werewolf rights," he smirked. His mother's passion was charity committees and being the alpha of them all. If Narcissa had her way, there'd never be another gala that she wasn't instrumental in hosting.
The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversations, mottled with moments of awkward and heavy silence where she'd blush, and he'd cast glances her way. She was full, warm and just the tiniest bit tipsy when she finally put her knife and fork down in defeat.
"Shall we adjourn back to the setee for dessert?" He lifted the ice cream, which still looked perfect despite sitting in the hot room.
"Alright." she grinned. He had two spoons and one pudding. It was classic date etiquette, and she felt a little bit giddy that, despite her being a tragic mess mere hours before, he still wanted to spend the evening with her.
He sat close to her, almost pinning her to the corner seat, holding the tall glass of ice cream between them. She took a spoon and popped it in her mouth. It was, of course, delicious. The strawberry sauce tasted like the ripest, most perfect summer-grown strawberry. Like she'd picked it herself on a summer holiday in Cornwall. She was so moved by the almost magical topping she didn't notice that some of the red nectar had dribbled down her lip. He raised his thumb and scraped it gently across her mouth. Before he could withdraw, she puckered her lips and placed a soft kiss on the tip.
"Granger," he warned.
"Malfoy?" she asked innocently and pressed another kiss. Why should he be the only one to cause unbearable stomach flips and unfulfilled aches. Poppycock.
"We're still at the restaurant," he said stupidly.
"Only we're not. We're in my living room." she took his thumb between her teeth and gave it the gentlest of nips before turning her head away and continuing to eat ice cream as though nothing at all had happened.
"yes, but I had a plan, my darling, that I would spend three hours in your company with wine and good food and conversation and perhaps a little brushing of hands over a bread roll," he smirked. "Whether it's here in your lovely home or at some Michelin starred brasserie, the fact of the matter is we're on a date. And, I want to do it right, Hermione. So, as much as it is literally paining me, I will make it through this without groping you… for the next hour and fifteen minutes." he punctuated his point with another scoop of desert into his mouth.
"Ok then." She smiled as she curled into him, resting her head on his shoulders. He was charming. If this was just a sex thing , she was relatively sure nobody else was treating their fuck buddy, as well as Malfoy was. The other option was that this was all real. Silently she retired her spoon to the dish and watched as Malfoy placed it on the table. He returned to beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and snuggling her close to him. His fingers rested on her hip, tugging the hem of her sweatshirt up so they could graze lightly on her skin. She silently screamed for time to move faster.
A/N Thank you so much for the reviews, It really makes my day reading them.