A hot cup of coffee, with warm milk and a teaspoon of honey.
Her little guilty pleasure.
Hermione stubbornly refused to admit how much she enjoyed a cup of coffee every morning, a small glimpse of light in the abyss that was her life. She enjoyed it, in silence, in the confinements of her room, with a light smile tugging on her lips. A secret shared between her and the cup, something that no one would know maybe, except for the house elf who prepared the coffee every morning just like Hermione liked.
It had been four days since she saw him last. And though she did her best not to think about him, she couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she wasn't met with the images of Harry or Ron but, she was met with beautiful grey eyes and the soft feel of his lips. And she hated herself for it.
She read all about him in the Daily Prophet, a copy of which lay on her breakfast tray every morning welcoming her into a brand new day where she was a prisoner of his, a war prize that he could boast about to the others or hide away because of all the shame she brought to him. A meeting with the Italian minister of magic and then, the next day, a lunch date with Astoria Greengrass chaperoned by her elder sister Daphne, the two were photographed taking a stroll along the pier the next afternoon before he had to depart for France where the undesirables were gaining strength.
Silently, she rooted for whoever it was out there, maybe it was Ron or Bill or Charlie. Maybe, some of her friends were still alive and free. Whoever it was, she prayed every morning that they would continue to grow in numbers.
But also, in silence, she pondered why she was looking forward to reading about him each morning, when he had left her so abruptly, without a single word. Her logical mind struggled to find an explanation to why a soon to be engaged man would be kissing someone like her. Did he pity her? Or did he think she could entertain him until he had to commit himself to a pureblood princess?
Hermione felt sick to her stomach, and she threw the paper on the table, with her brows furrowed. "She is a child bride, how gross and unbecoming" she murmured to herself, forgetting her cup of coffee that stood untouched in the corner.
"Who is?" she then heard and snapped her head towards the witch that stood in the doorway.
"No one"
Hermione turned away, choosing to stare out of the small window instead. Pansy stepped inside and picked up the newspaper, staring briefly at Draco's photo, smiling at Astoria. Eyes rolling, she flicked her wand and made the paper disappear, suddenly overwhelmed by her own distaste of the entire situation.
"Have you taken your potions?" she asked instead.
"Why do you care?"
"I don't, but Draco does. You don't want to get worse do you? And attract all the wrong kind of attention?"
"I am fine" Hermione insisted, refusing to meet Pansy's eyes. "I am not a child. Please stop treating me like one"
She heard Pansy chuckle, "You are definitely not a child but, you do act like a brat and we have enough of those here. Take your potions, they are meant to help your tissues regenerate and so on- or would you prefer if your wounds would rot instead, Granger?"
Hermione groaned and got on her feet, grabbing a few potions that were on her bed side table. She wanted to protest but she felt she had no energy to do so. The last few days, spent in silence, without anything to do left her in a claustrophobic state of mind. And though no one had confined her into her room, she hesitated to venture outside, afraid that he'd return and they'd find themselves in a state of awkwardness after the kiss.
"There, happy?" she asked, holding the bottles she had just emptied.
"Being your healer never made me happy, I cannot imagine a more miserable thing to do with my time"
Pansy fixed the golden cuff bracelet around her wrist, meeting Hermione's widened eyes with a playful smirk, "What? Did you think those potions mixed themselves? Or they materialized out of thin air?"
"I didn't think it would be you. I thought maybe the house elves or-"
"The house elves? Don't be ridiculous" Pansy rolled her eyes, and walked over to sit on the chair, crossing her legs. Hermione couldn't help but notice how graceful her every move was, as if she was part Veela, and how different she had become from when they were at Hogwarts. Despite all the days spent together, she was still fascinated by the witch to her own disbelief.
"Under different circumstances, maybe. But now, when the potion supplies are regulated by St. Mungo's and a special committee under the Ministry, house elves or any other magical creature are not allowed to access them. Did you have any idea how hard it was to obtain them? Despite Draco's involvement?"
Hermione shook her head, brows knitted together, "Are you saying healing ingredients are made available only to the purebloods?" she couldn't help but exclaim, her voice raised.
"No, what I am saying is, the Ministry regulates the supplies to ensure that no one from the wrong side would get their hands on them. It's their way of tracking the supplies, where they go, who buys them and for what reason. It also ensures that the ones on the wrong side would not have a chance to heal or survive a hex if it got to it or make explosives or poison-" she became visibly uncomfortable, "Only wizards and witches are able to obtain the necessary ingredients through submitting a petition to the Ministry" Pansy shrugged her shoulders, "As you can imagine, every petition goes through a long process of approval but, thankfully because of Draco and Blaise, we were able to obtain them sooner"
"Their golden collars-" it was a soft whisper but, Pansy picked it up easily and nodded. She could see the anger that washed over Hermione's face but she ignored it.
Pansy sighed, and decided that the witch was going to learn the truth sooner than later.
"Every Death Eater who wished to serve the Dark Lord at the end of the war was assessed by blood status and family lineage; afterwards, they were all put into ranks based on their performance in a series of tests designed by the Dark Lord himself" her voice trailed, and for a moment Hermione thought Pansy had completely zoned out. She watched her rubbing her temple.
But, she quickly snapped back to reality, "When Blaise got his golden collar, I thought I was proud of him. I really was. I thought he had stood out among all those men despite where he came from. You see, he wasn't involved as much as Malfoys, Notts or Goyles before the war. In fact, I was sure that he'd remain neutral-"
Silence fell between two witches, and the air felt heavier, even Hermione could pick up hints of sadness in Pansy's voice.
"I didn't know all the things they had to do to get them. I know how the world sees us, especially because of the Dark Lord but, I never knew that even we were capable of such cruelty-" she finally whispered, lowering her head. "I asked him why he went along with it and he asked me why I never left Draco's side even after we broke up. And that moment, I understood him. There are nights when he wakes up screaming their names-" she sighed heavily, shaking her head as if drowning the images that had just clouded her mind.
"And Theo?"
Pansy shook her head, taking a moment to compose herself. Hermione had noticed how easy it came to her and Draco to mask their emotions.
"He failed the last test- the Dark Lord was very disappointed and Theo was locked away for three weeks straight but he is stronger than anyone gives him credit for. And when he came out of that hole, sane and composed, the Dark Lord gave him silver collars rewarding his mental strength."
"What was the last test, Pansy?" Hermione was hesitant.
And so was Pansy. Her lips parted at first, and then, she sealed them. "You should ask Draco. Maybe, he will tell you one day-"
The witch got on her feet, and fixed her dress. She stood tall, on her high heels, with a smile on her lips. The kind of smile that told Hermione that she was present in that moment, rather than that she enjoyed the witch's company. As if she hadn't just revealed a piece of herself and had a moment of vulnerability in front of a witch that she spent most of her youth despising.
"Now, I would appreciate it if you can consider that this conversation never took place. Bonding with muggle borns is not truly my forte" she eyed Hermione with a playful smile, "Plus, we have work to do. I got an owl from Draco last night. Don't ask too many questions. Just meet me in the sitting room once you finish your-" Pansy stared at the cup on the desk, and clicked her tongue, "your coffee. Don't be late. I don't have all day"
Hermione wasn't sure if her stomach could handle it. She realized that she used the coffee as her small escape from reality but Pansy had hit her right in the face with her revelations. And her heart ached and her anger grew at the world and at Voldemort. She watched Pansy leave and then sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her knees to her chest.
She prayed that the Order was gaining more numbers. She prayed that they were surviving out there.
Because Voldemort's cruelty wasn't only towards his biggest enemies and muggle born witches and wizards but, to his supporters as well no matter why they chose to support him in the first place.
Pansy greeted her when she stepped into the sitting room. There was a rack filled with dresses and robes, and a display of jewelry. Hermione stood awkwardly, staring at the witch who was shamelessly taking her measurements with a measuring tape that sprung from the tip of her wand.
"What are you doing, Parkinson?"
"What do I look like I am doing, Granger?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms above her chest, to Pansy's dismay. The witch forced her arms down to measure her bust.
"I can see that but, do you mind telling me why?"
"You will see, it's a surprise and I have a feeling your Gryffindor self will be very happy when you find out"
"I don't need a new wardrobe if this is what you are doing"
"Of course you don't, Granger. The one I had built for you is the best wardrobe a witch can have even a witch of your…background" Pansy tried her best to conceal her smile. She stepped to the side, and picked an emerald green gown that left little to imagination, with a deep décolletage and exposed back.
"Try this on-" she insisted, floating the dress towards Hermione.
"Tell me why I should first. You can't just expect me to do as you want without any context or clues"
"Use your big brain Granger, or your trouble seeking Gryffindor instincts. What do you think is happening here?"
"Is it for your birthday party?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.
"You wish you'd be invited to my birthday party but, close. Now, put this on. We have a lot to do today"
Hesitantly, Hermione stepped to the corner and got rid of her clothes. She had a feeling that Pansy was up to no good but, also she wondered if the witch was too bored and wanted to play dress up. Though her mind told Hermione that she'd be the last person Pansy Parkinson would want to play a game with unless it was a game that meant to hurt her or mock her.
Habits die hard after all.
Hermione's arms were wrapped around her chest, trying to conceal the deep cut that exposed her skin. She was thankful that they were alone, she couldn't bear to explain herself to any of the boys especially, Draco.
"Don't I have the best taste-" she heard Pansy praise herself, the witch circled around Hermione, flicking her wand to adjust the dress to her size. The silk perfectly hugged her body, and yet it was so comfortable that her exposed skin on her chest and back didn't give her any discomfort.
"I imagine you are not good with heels-"
"I am actually oka–"
"No, no. That wasn't a question" Pansy interrupted and charmed a pair of heels that looked similar to ones she wore on the night that Draco got hurt. The heels floated towards Hermione and landed perfectly at her feet. The golden snakes curled around her ankles, hugging them tight once she slipped her feet in the shoes.
She had trouble with her balance. It had been such a long time she wore a pair, maybe it was Bill and Fleur's wedding but, even those weren't as high as the ones that currently homed her feet. Hermione shut her eyes, and clenched her fists, refusing her brain access to the memories of the last night where all of them were together, dancing and smiling.
This wasn't the time to wallow in her sadness.
"Are we done, Pansy?"
"What's the rush, Granger? You have somewhere to be?" the witch chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Now, let's pick some jewelry. Maybe, this necklace would go well with the dress-"
"I will be lending her jewelry, Pansy. Leave that to me"
Hermione froze. Suddenly, she was aware of her outfit, and all the exposed skin. She didn't dare to look his way and instead, she zoned out, barely registering Pansy walking over to greet him with a kiss on both of his cheeks. She muted out their whispers, and she didn't look his way, deciding to turn her back to them. Instead, she stared at the fireplace and wondered if she could floo herself back to the castle, find the most remote room and lock herself in there.
A minute later, she snapped out of it, feeling Pansy's fingers curling around her wrist, "Granger!" she called and Hermione slowly met her gaze, silently begging the witch to let her go upstairs.
"Did you hear what I said?" Pansy asked,
"You have to learn to be comfortable in each other's company. Obviously, you can imagine how close Draco and I had been all our lives, especially since we dated and you two look terribly awkward so how about we fix that?"
"What are you suggesting, Pansy?" he spoke, stepping closer with his brows furrowed.
"Don't pretend like you don't know. The ball is in less than two weeks and you will have to touch her like you touch me" Pansy held his hand and brought it to her cheek, to prove her point. He didn't flinch, on the contrary he leaned closer, his body rotating to face hers, and though they had their ups and downs, their body language undeniably showed that they were once intimate with one another, that there was a certain level of comfort and trust that only two of them shared like secrets whispered in the dark that no one is meant to know but only them.
Draco gazed into her brown orbs and frowned deeply, "Okay, I get your point" he wanted to protest and scream but he held himself together avoiding to look at Hermione.
"I will leave you two alone" Pansy whispered, and despite Draco's expression that silently begged her to stay, she walked away.
He turned to face her, and he stared at her exposed back for longer than he should. His expression strained, he curled his fingers into two fists, and rolled his eyes when he finally gave in to the nagging of his mind.
"Granger" he spoke, his eyes closed. He struggled to roll each syllable with the tip of his tongue.
"What was she talking about?" she asked, turning to face him. "What ball is that?" she whispered, but she met his gaze bravely, even challenging him to speak. Hermione had no intent to back down.
"You know you ask too many questions"
"And you rarely give me any answers," she replied, crossing her arms around her chest, and took one step forward.
"I do, but you don't like the answers you get. Which says a lot about your personality"
"Is that a complaint? Because, if I remember correctly, I didn't force you to save me, or bring me here or let your ex-girlfriend play dress up with me"
Draco clicked his tongue, running his fingers through his hair and only then, Hermione noticed the bruises around his knuckles. He had been fighting again. For a brief moment, she felt concerned but she quickly shelved those feelings away, reminding herself that she was done being soft around him.
"Pansy is only doing what I asked her to do which was, to find a dress for you to wear and work with you on your walk and your manners-" he left out many details from the letter that he wrote the witch the night before unsure when he'd return from his travels. The luck was on his side or he was rather unfortunate when his trip to Russia was cancelled and postponed to a further date and he had no choice but return home sooner than he had anticipated.
"You won't even tell me why I'd need a dress and you expect me to go along with anything you ask of me"
"Can't you just do as told and be grateful that you are not in a cage, to be tortured and instead, you are living here as a guest of mine? You know I could also treat you like a slave because, on paper I am the owner of your stubborn witch self-" it was his turn to take a step forward to meet her half way.
"Why won't you treat me like one, Draco? I am sure you'd enjoy it, like you have for so many years when we were in school-" She took another step and she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
She insisted when she didn't get a response from him. "Why?"
Draco's gaze was fixed on hers and he stared in silence, unsure of what to say. He had been searching his mind for answers since he decided to put himself, his family and his friends at risk by bringing her to the castle. The kiss, the first and then, the second had made things so much worse, clouding his mind and rendering him useless and helpless.
"You know you talk a lot. Maybe, I should silencio you and you can learn to be quiet" he took another step and he was staring down at her, with a frown on his face. His jawline was tight, and he felt that he could snap at any moment.
"Go on do it, as if it would make things better between us, Malfoy" she challenged him with a glare.
"Malfoy, is it?" He raised a brow.
"Or shall I call you Master since you keep reminding me of my status in your household any chance you get"
"Don't tempt me, Granger" he whispered, his tone ice-cold, and he pressed his long digits underneath her jaw.
"Or what, Malfoy?" she asked, in return unfazed by the pressure he was applying. It wasn't anything that she couldn't handle, after spending months in the Lestrange dungeons, broken into pieces to be rebuilt and be broken again.
Silence fell between them, and she could feel the tension growing in her bones. She could hear his breathing, she could see his chest heaving and she could smell cigarettes, and mint. And her mind told her, if the circumstances were different, she'd ponder the oddity of the situation they were in, she'd ask herself why her body and mind reacted in a way that they did. She didn't break eye contact, refusing to be the first to give in. And she fought with all her might not to stare at the outline of his nose, or his lips or the strands of blonde hair that fell over his grey eyes.
"We are done here" he commented, and turned on his heels to her surprise and confusion. He had made her confused a lot lately.
Hermione stared at first, for a few seconds, at his broad shoulders and his back and then, she did the unthinkable and launched forward to grab his arm, he wasn't going to walk away so easily. He had to answer her questions first.
Right foot, left foot and then, she found herself falling forward, her fingers curling on the material of his robes and she pulled him back as she was about to meet the ground. It had been a long time since she had worn a full length gown with heels on, but even that wasn't enough to satiate her growing embarrassment.
"Can you please be careful? You are going to hurt yourself" she heard him groan, and she had finally noticed that she was in his arms, and he was pulling her up, his arm then, moved to curl around her waist to keep her in place.
"You stop walking away from me then, I will try not to get hurt" she huffed, and hit his chest with her fist, flinching when she felt a sting, her hand was still healing and she cursed at herself for being so careless.
"Watch it! Are you doing this on purpose or have you lost your mind!?" he raised his voice, his free hand cupping her wrist to look closely at her right hand where her wounds were almost healed. She flinched, trying to pull her wrist away. It was the first time that he studied her hand so closely, her two fingers noticeably missing and she felt uncomfortable as if she was naked in front of him, exposing every bit of herself to him.
Draco felt her tense, and he stared down at her noticing how she averted her gaze. The girl that he had saved, from the hands of his aunt, was back standing in front of him. She carried no sign of the stubborn muggle girl who had tortured his existence since they were kids, instead she was the broken and beaten version of the same Hermione Granger that he had decided that he deeply disliked.
Because, it didn't suit her.
He slowly let go of her wrist, as gently as he could, and took a step back. He didn't know how to comfort her, so he did what he thought would be best; to distract her. "The Dark Lord will be hosting a ball. It will be the biggest society gathering of the year. He will be announcing his big plans for the wizarding world, here and abroad" he paused, and he saw a flicker of light in her cognac orbs. It was working.
He sighed, "You will be replacing Pansy who was supposed to be my date for the night. I hope you are familiar with the old fashioned Polyjuice potion" he raised a brow, and when she nodded he continued, "So, I need you to do as told because, if you behave well, Granger, I might let you meet some of your friends at the ball."
He lied.
Half-lied.
But, her eyes widened and he smirked when he got the reaction he wanted.
"And that means, you need to learn how to move like Pansy, talk like Pansy, laugh and hold a conversation like Pansy. Be a good girl Granger, and I promise you five minutes with one of your most favorite people in the world" he leaned closer, "Remember, you promised me anything- but, don't worry, once the night is over we can go back to hating each other" his tone was filled with bitter venom.
Before he pulled away completely, Hermione had noticed his lingering eyes wander around her lips.
He didn't wait for her reaction and turned on his heels to walk away, sighing in relief when she didn't come after him.
Hermione didn't protest when Pansy came fetching her in the evening, after dinner. She dressed her in a silk emerald night gown that fell just above her knees and made her wear a matching robe insisting that she needed to feel what it was like to be Pansy Parkinson. Though Hermione rolled her eyes, and bit her tongue, she was determined not to fail this test; the biggest test of her life.
She was unsure who those friends were and what they would be doing at a ball hosted by Voldemort. Though she went through a long list of Order members, and everyone she knew and was close with from Hogwarts, none of it really made sense unless someone had switched sides.
She was determined to find out the truth because, if there were spies in the Order that worked for Voldemort, she needed to find a way to alert the Order. And she would do anything in her will power to get to the truth.
So, she listened to a long lecture followed by a practice session on why it was important to exfoliate her skin and how to apply creams. Hermione questioned openly if they should be practicing walking in heels instead but, it seemed that Pansy had found a new toy and she was determined to take advantage of educating Hermione in her ways of living life albeit the loud protests that she wouldn't be able to afford her expensive creams and face oils from France. Pansy hushed her instead and made her take notes until Hermione felt she couldn't take it anymore.
An hour into their informative session, Draco walked into the sitting room, wearing black pants and a black shirt. His hands in his pockets, he leaned against the wall and listened to Pansy go about facial massage before, he checked the time on the clock and cleared his throat.
"If you are done with Granger, I think it's time we start getting to know each other better-" he interrupted. Pansy bit her lip, eyeing Hermione and then Draco and when she was met with his signature roll of eyes, she raised her hands in surrender.
"I do have a dinner date with my boyfriend, anyway so this is perfect timing"
Hermione watched Pansy walk away, eyes widening when the witch winked at her and strode past Draco. They stood in silence until they heard Pansy apparate with a pop some minutes later and Hermione raised a brow as if to ask him, what now?
Draco hadn't had the faintest idea and if it wasn't for Pansy's nagging, he would have postponed getting to know Hermione better for later. Yet, he expertly quieted his mind and stood straight, he had no intention of making a fool out of himself. If he was to put his mind into something, he was to do it in the most perfect manner possible. He had learned it the hardest way.
"I can assure you that touching you brings me no joy" he began, as he took a few steps towards her, a frown on his face even though his eyes were wandering about her petite figure which made her clench her wrists. He liked that, getting a reaction out of her.
"But, I don't do anything half-heartedly. So, do you think you will be able to pretend, for a few hours, that Friday night, like you don't hate me?"
His question was straight forward and it caught her off guard. His curious eyes made her wonder if she ever truly hated him. If there was ever a time, when she had believed that he was worth such a strong word associated with his name.
"I don't think I ever hated you, Draco" and she covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide, realizing that she had spoken it out loud.
Draco seemed to be surprised as well, his frown deepening but he remained where he stood, as if silently waiting for her permission to make a move.
"Even when we were eleven, twelve? Even when I called you mudblood for the first time and I made fun of your friends? Even when you punched me?" he asked, and moved closer until he stared down at her, feeling her chest brushing against his. "Even when I got the dark mark and let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Even when you were tortured in my home by my aunt? Not to mention what she had done to you all these months-"
"If you are trying to get a reaction out of me, Draco. You will not get it" she spoke, lowering her voice. She could see that his guards were up, he had that look in his eyes and she realized that it made her feel more concerned than angry.
"I believed and I still do that you are the biggest prick I have ever met in my life. You are spoiled rotten, obnoxious, egocentric and you always think the world revolves around you but, these are not enough reasons for me to hate you. If you were Voldemort yes, if you were Bellatrix yes-" she frowned, shivering when she spoke the witch's name and Hermione looked at her feet, realizing how ridiculous she looked in Pansy's fuzzy slippers. Those were probably the softest, most comfortable pieces of clothing the witch had owned to Hermione's surprise and she couldn't help but chuckle instead.
"So, whatever it is you want me to do, I will do it. But, please leave all this hate speech behind" she requested looking up to him.
Putting her pride aside, if she was supposed to play a role that night, for a few hours, to have a chance to see her friends, she'd do it. And she hoped that he, one of the most intelligent wizards she'd ever known, would get it and be able to see it past his pride as well.
"I know that you see me as dirty, you always have-" she couldn't finish her sentence, when she felt his arm circle around her waist to pull her closer, his lips almost touching hers.
"You are not dirty-don't call yourself that"
They remained like that for a few minutes, not speaking, just feeling each other's presence. Hermione didn't protest, she allowed him to hold her and he, in return, didn't pull away.
Draco realized the significance of his words. It took him four days of mingling in pureblood circles and a long conversation with his mother to see that everything that his family had made him believe was all bullshit. Muggle born witches and wizards didn't have dirty blood, he had seen Hermione's blood when he saved her. It was just like his. He believed that his lips would break out covered in a mysterious disease after she had kissed him, but nothing had happened. And even when he kissed her, he realized that nothing that his father had scared him with actually took place.
She was just like him. And she wasn't dirty.
"Draco Malfoy who has called me mudblood ever since I have known him says that I am not dirty?" she repeated eventually, her lips parting as she stared at him in disbelief. "Did you knock your head while you were away?"
He didn't register her words immediately, his brain was malfunctioning, he felt like he was a fourteen year old boy once again, his body reacting to the heat that she was radiating. And he wondered if she felt the surge of electricity between them. Even though she couldn't feel her magic, he could feel hers. It was barely there but, the closer he got to her, the wilder it had become. And oddly, Draco craved this unfamiliar feeling.
"Mocking me, Granger? I always thought you were more of a Slytherin than Gryffindor, you know that? It fits you better" he smirked and shamelessly stared at her lips, they had given him nightmares and though he tried to keep his lips busy while he was away, he realized no one made him feel like these lips that he stared at with adoration and a hint of want.
"Only in your dreams, Malfoy. If this is your way of telling me that you have had fantasies about me, I will accept it. Because, we always want what we can't have, hm?"
Draco stared at her, searching her eyes. She noticed that he had bitten his lower lip, and she gulped in response. Draco burst out laughing when he pulled away, running his fingers through his golden locks.
"Theo was right, you do belong in the snake pit, Granger and maybe, after I am done with you, you will join the pit willingly" he smirked, and clicked his tongue.
Before she could protest, he raised his finger, "Nu-uh, no, no. That wasn't a request. But, a fact"
"Malfoy-"
"Take it off, Granger" he demanded, staring at her robe.
A shiver ran up her spine and she didn't protest further, desperately wanting to see what was behind those grey eyes of his. Maybe, it was her who wanted a taste of the forbidden fruit. No matter how much she was determined to deny it until the end of her days. Hermione removed the robe, placed it on the armchair and stepped closer to him. She imagined how Pansy would have behaved if she was in her shoes, and she swayed her hips a little, as if transforming into Pansy Parkinson.
Draco watched her, his eyes narrowing when he caught up with what she was doing. But, he didn't move. He remained frozen when she placed her left hand on his chest, a shaky breath leaving her lips. And he felt it against his jawline. He clenched his teeth, and felt her hand move towards his neck.
"Scared, Draco?" she whispered and he almost pulled away to bang his head against the wall. He had never imagined her to behave like this, talk like this or move in a way that she was moving.
"Not a chance, Granger" he whispered back, and leaned down, the tips of their noses brushing against each other, and his arm circled around her waist, his fingers slowly moving to her lower back.
It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Because, only a few days ago he was convinced that her touch, and her kiss would be enough to poison him. And in a way, they did because his mind was clouded and he finally let go of his theory that it was alcohol's doing because he was as sober as one could be.
"Then, touch me like you'd touch Pansy" he heard her whisper, and he wanted to tell her that he couldn't. Because, the way he was touching her he had never touched Pansy like that, with care and gentleness. He didn't want to tell her that he'd become softer after they had broken up and Pansy had gotten with Blaise. And that when they were a couple, he didn't really enjoy touching her but, Hermione felt different. He could feel the surge of electricity under his palm, when his fingers came in contact with her body.
So, he pretended. For the little experiment's sake. To see what else she was capable of making him feel.
He took a decisive step in his mind and moved his head towards her neck, he inhaled her scent and breathed out slowly towards her pulse point. His other hand moved lower to press against her round globe and Hermione sighed, ears deaf to the screams of her mind. No, that was okay she told herself and moved her hand down his chest, exposing her neck more so he did as he pleased. She wanted to mimic Pansy because, no wonder the witch used to be so obsessed with him because he felt, and smelled so good.
"Her love language is physical touch" he whispered against her pulse. His pupils dilated, he wanted to latch his lips and have a taste, he had an urge to bite, furiously until she bled, so he could see for himself one more time that her blood wasn't tainted.
"And so is mine" he added, bringing his lips closer to brush against her pulsating vein.
"What is yours, Granger?" he asked, and it took him immense strength to press his lips briefly on that one spot that he had been eyeing for the last two minutes.
Hermione felt her skin burn, in the most delicious way, as if she had been wrapped in a cozy blanket on a coldest, darkest night. And she moaned, a soft melody that left her lips and rang in Draco's ears.
He pulled away, eyes wide and there was no sign of a man that was about to satisfy his biggest and darkest, most forbidden craving. Instead, he abruptly pulled away, rubbing his hand on his face. Hermione stared at him, and she blushed, covering her mouth with her lips.
Suddenly, his back was turned to her, and his teeth were sunk into his shirt, his wrist and he groaned. Pure terror was written all over his face, and he cursed out loud, all the curses that he had known, even the ugliest, nastiest ones left his lips one after another, and he tugged on his hair, "Fuck" he exclaimed.
She had finally regained her senses, realizing what they had just done.
They had shared a very intimate moment, pure and untouched as if their souls had met their match for the first time, as if no one else they had kissed or hugged before this moment mattered.
As if they were discovering what their bodies were capable of for the first time.
And she blushed, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective manner.
"We are done for today" he spoke, walking away.
Fortunately for him, Hermione hadn't seen the growing strain in his pants and the cause of the terror on his face and the reason why he pulled away from the sweet nectar that she was to him.
And Draco, in return, prayed to Merlin that he could control himself.
Two weeks and she'd be gone from his life forever.
a/n: I have had my usual seasonal depression hit hard, after the holidays but, I will be sticking to my schedule from now on. Apologies for the wait. Please leave a review for good luck! So, I know that I am not alone who enjoy this fic! This ending made me laugh- xoxo
ps: to clarify a question, she is not a squib. it will be explained later, how her magic was restrained but, to them it feels like she is a squib, rather delusional way of thought, and an absolute denial of her witch status on their part. but, don't worry, it's still there.