A/n: Explicit sexual content ahead...

Ch.26: The Submission

"You're certain we won't get in trouble for this?"

"Nonsense. Everything is handled downstairs and as of," he glanced down at his wrist, "five minutes ago, I'm officially free for the rest of the evening." They ascended to the second floor, wandering through one dark hallway after another until they stood in front of grand double doors well over twice her height.

"What if your mother needs you?"

"She won't. It helps that she's under the impression that I don't feel well." Hermione arched a brow, pretending not to be enthralled as with a touch of his fingertips, a series of mechanisms began to sound from the other side as they unlocked from within.

"Whatever gave her that impression?"

"She, being the attentive mother she is, could see that I'd been off all evening," he tossed back, smirking at her. Even if she found the words, she didn't have a chance to retort. Because when he pushed the doors open, she lost her ability to breathe.

"You, you can't be serious. This isn't—" she stammered over her loss for words as she walked in, unable to tear her gaze from the sight before her. Until finally, she faced him. "Malfoy?"

Draco smirked, clearly pleased with her reaction.

"Welcome to the family library, Granger."

Like a first year in Ollivander's, she took in the walls bearing filled shelves with awe and wonder. Already beginning to plot out her route and methods to obtain maximum coverage from one night.

"I'm never leaving your house," she breathed in disbelief.

He laughed, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"You say that now. I'm willing to bet you wouldn't last a week without feeling guilty for missing class."

Walking further inside, she stepped up to the closest bookstack, running her fingers along the aged novels and feeling the embossment on the spines. Finding many familiar titles from having read them previously or word of mouth. There were even more that were unfamiliar to her, works that dated back centuries, likely belonging to Draco's ancestors from long ago.

"I don't even know where to start."

"You can always come back, you know. If you'd like," he implored cautiously. Her head whipped around to find him leaning against the archway at the entrance, hands in his pockets and entirely content with watching her explore.

"Would I need to schedule ahead of time?" He arched a brow at her and she clarified. "Surely you have friends or other family members who use this library?"

His eyebrows pulled up, his mouth widening into a debonair smirk as he stepped off from the wall and sauntered further into the room. She herself turned back to admire the books nearby on a shelf. Who would have thought a family Pureblooded wizards with narrowminded views and sticks up their arses actually had good taste in literature?

Certainly not her.

"You think Blaise and Theo would come here on their own free will to read?"

"Who said I was talking about them? What about the other two? Surely even they knew how to read, right?" She asked with a coy smile.

"Funny you mention that. I was curious about that myself when Goyle told me he'd been reading during Second," he said while eyeing her pointedly. "After I caught him wearing glasses."

An amused smile began to form on her lips.

"Perhaps he didn't want to inform you of a sight impediment."

"That's assuming he knew what the word 'impediment' meant."

Unexpectedly, she chortled.

"Malfoy, that's terrible!"

"You didn't have those two as lackeys," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "They were hardly passable on a good day."

"Well, I'd say you definitely made a wise decision with Blaise and Theo. I can tell you even care for them," she said, mildly pleased as he groaned with disgust.

"Fuck," Draco groaned. "Not this again—"

"Come on now," she countered sternly, turning to admonish him. "When's the last time you told either of them how much they mean to you?"

"Never," he deadpanned. "Significantly less nauseating that way."

"Unbelievable," she scoffed, continuing to wander and plucking a title of interest to examine.

"Most people don't sit around and talk about our feelings, Granger. Especially not us."

"It wouldn't kill you to appreciate the fact that you have wonderful people in your life every once in a while."

"For a time, yes, it would have." Her page flipping movements stopped when she grew still. "Regardless, I was practically trained to be incapable of it."

"What about before?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Before what?"

She closed the book and placed it back on its shelf. "Before you became an occlumens."

He faltered, and his jaw tightened.

"What are you implying, Granger?"

"It's a simple question—"

"I like to think I've come to know you better than that," he stated, unamused. Suddenly, he felt further away than he'd been in weeks. "If you have something to ask, then ask it."

Despite their decision to keep their relationship secret for the time being, she felt that she, too, had come to know him in the mere minutes they would get to interact outside of their journals. She'd noticed at the end of lecture the way he would retract from incidentally putting a hand at the small of her back. Or how they timed their leaving class to be far enough apart so as to not raise suspicion. This was the first time in weeks they'd had to truly be alone. Nothing left to hold them back from allowing themselves to simply want aside from each other.

"You and Pansy," she decided, when he finally broke their gaze. Noticing his hands that were once hanging loosely were now clenched tightly into fists. "I'd like to know what happened at the ball."

His head snapped to her.

"Blaise didn't tell you?"

"He said I would have to talk to you about it."

"Perhaps I do need to showcase my appreciation more," Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair out of irritation.

"Pansy also gave me a...vague rundown of your history," she added, hating the way her heart began to pick up as he regarded her, searching inside her. She wanted to look away, protect herself from whatever it was he was trying to find. But he wouldn't need legilimency to find the truth. The vulnerability. Her fear.

"Buddy?" With a snap of his fingers, a house-elf appeared out of nowhere. Fully adorned in proper clothing. Even a pair of embroidered house slippers.

"You called, Master?"

Disgruntled, Draco exhaled. "Could you please fetch me a glass of Ogden's and a sobering potion?"

"Certainly, sir. Shall I fetch anything for the missus?" Both looked to Hermione for a response, who was very much caught off guard.

"Oh! No, thank you. I'm good." With a pop, he vanished. They let a moment of silence fall between them after the elf apparated away.

"Before you start a fuss," he began, pinching the bridge of his nose, "he is free and is here entirely of his own choosing."

Hermione blinked, her surroundings moving far too quickly for her to process anything appropriately. "I appreciate the transparency," she said softly, just as the elf returned with the requested items.

"Ah, much appreciated. Thank you."

Smiling widely, Buddy the House-elf quickly nodded, dismissing himself before he vanished once more.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked Draco who downed the entire glass in a matter of seconds, wincing at the burn as the amber liquid traveled down his throat.

"I'm having a drink. What's it look like?" He set down the glass and made several wandless gestures to dim the lights. Hermione jerked her head around when a gentle melodic sound started. Was that...music? In a library? "Are you going to dance with me or not?" She turned back to face him where a hand extended out to her.

She watched him carefully, considering his offer and motive for doing so before firing back.

"Can you even dance?" She watched with amusement as he permitted a moment to indulge his absolute indignation and surprise at the question.

"Can I dance?" he echoed in disbelief, scoffing while swiftly grabbing her hand and yanking her into him. "Remind me to punish you later for daring to question my upbringing."

Hermione swallowed thickly, certainly not thinking about the implications that often came with his loose interpretation of punishment. Certainly not fixating on the warm hand at the small of her back where the closure of her dress was. Deciding to focus her thoughts elsewhere, she conjured a few spare candles around the room as her own hands settled — one on his shoulder, the other in his steady grip. The flicker of the flames brought a warmth and intimacy to the large space consisting of tall shelves and well aged books.

Eight steps. That was how many it took for their strides to fall in sync. As wizards, their wands were often associated as extensions of themselves, and their magical abilities. In this instance, their bodies became an extension of each other as they glided across the large, open section of the library. She felt dauntless and unyielding in his secure hold and it showed in their execution as Draco took the lead. As they moved in unison to the steady beat of the music, their movements and coordinating garments blended them into a wondrous display of vibrance and elegance.

Together, they held the energy of sun rays. Shining bright like diamonds.

"Well?" The low rumble of his voice came minutes later and vibrated into Hermione, disrupting the haze of daydreams for her to fade back to reality. At some point, they'd shifted their positions so she was pressed against his chest and breathing in his earth scent without her noticing.

He really was an exceptional dancer.

"You're passable," she eventually decided, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

He snorted, amused. "You're really asking for it, aren't you?" It happened quicker than she could process. Before she knew it, there was a slight sting from where he'd promptly swatted her arse.

Out of instinct, Hermione pulled back in his hold until a handsome smirk came into view.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, and Draco's grin only widened when he saw bright, ruddy cheeks.

"Oh? Someone likes that, doesn't she?" He inquired with a teasing lilt.

"No!" Hermione squeaked, convincing absolutely no one with her darkening flush. "I wasn't expecting it, is all."

"Out with it, Granger," he tutted, raising a single brow. "Unless you'd like another?"

"Fine, you're a good dancer! Truthfully, I'd expect nothing less from someone as...exemplary as yourself."

He snickered, tightening his grip on her waist. "Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"It's however you interpret it to be," she retorted cheekily.

"Insufferable swot," he chuckled, pulling her back to their original positions. Their shared levity faded as the songs transitioned, one after the other when the music took over for the moment.

"Remember that you asked for this," he said suddenly, a seriousness etched in his voice.

Hermione blinked thoughtfully at him. "I'm aware."

"—and keep in mind that while I treated you like shit, I didn't treat my friends much better then, either."

"Fair enough—"

"—and I need you to understand that I'm not that person anymore."

With that, there was a twinge of vulnerability in his voice. A desperation in that she wouldn't judge him, despite having been the target of his cruelty for years. Making her choice, Hermione stepped up on her tiptoes, nudging his nose lightly with his own and flashed a soft smile. Reminding him that her presence alone in his home at the current moment could attest to that.

She could feel the steady thumping of his heartbeat as he regarded her, searching her expression. Once she assumed her previous position, he continued.

"For as long as I can remember, Pansy's always had feelings for me," he began softly. "I'm sure you've come to realize those feelings were not reciprocated, given my—"

"—emotional range of a teaspoon?" Hermione blurted, feeling him mentally juggle over what she'd said.

"I suppose that's as good an analogy as any," he said in a laugh, a light huff hitting her hair. "We started dating in Third and to start, she was no help with homework but we did have a good snog every now and then. She seemed happy with the arrangement."

"What about you?" She implored, her voice ever-so-faint. "Were you happy?"

"I had a girlfriend who practically worshiped me at the age of thirteen. My parents tolerated her well enough and others envied me for what I had. I had everything," he shared, and his faint smile faded away. "Then the ball happened." This, she thought. This was when everything changed. "Pans and I had an argument shortly after arriving—" Hermione's brow furrowed when a faint image of him and Pansy having a heated altercation came to fruition. "Unfortunately, it ended up resonating with me. Crabbe spiked the pumpkin juice and after having a few too many, Pans and I started arguing again and ended up in the nearest broom closet where we—" he cut off, grimacing at the thought and tensing altogether.

Taking a chance, she reached upwards and began to stroke his hair. Noticing the motions seemed to make him calmer, she continued the rhythmic motion as they moved to the accompanying melodies.

"I didn't find out until after the potion Crabbe used had mind blurring extract meant to intensify the consumer's pre-existing emotion and desire. For Pansy, it did what it was meant to do. Me, on the other hand," he broke off with a dark chuckle and it didn't take long for the implications to click.

"It made you more aggressive," she realized.

"The whole time, I knew I was being far too rough but I couldn't control it. Pansy wasn't in the right state of mind to stop me even if she wanted to," he admitted somberly. Despite her unease, her hold on him only tightened. "Blaise ended up finding us halfway, forcing sobering potions on us after wrenching us apart and she passed out shortly after."

"Did she remember what happened?" Conflicting relief arose when he shook his head.

"At the time, no. All she recalled was our fight and having made up with the 'shag of a lifetime.' After that night, I ignored her advances and ended up hurting her in the process. Even then, she was foolish enough to continue worrying about me after I pledged myself to a death sentence," he sighed heavily, forcing the physical — and metaphorical — weight to remain upon him. She could tell he'd been anticipating her hold to loosen or for her to break didn't move an inch.

"She didn't remember at the time," Hermione tread slowly. "So she does now?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, she does."

"And still, she chose to come and support you tonight."

"Like I said. Foolish."

"It's not foolish, Malfoy," Hermione rectified, never believing she'd see a day where she was defending Pansy Parkinson to Draco Malfoy.

"It's certainly not wise," he combated swiftly.

"No one ever said emotions were logical. Regardless, you shouldn't beat yourself up for something that's happened in the past."

With a wry smile, he snickered at the irony. "Really?"

"By all means, learn from the experience but don't make yourself suffer for it. Pansy's obviously forgiven you." She pulled back to face him. "Why shouldn't you forgive yourself?"

With a sigh, she could see tension slip away from his shoulders, if only slightly. "Granger—"

"But there is something I don't understand." In an instant, she felt the tension return. "If you didn't feel that way about Pansy, would the potion have taken effect in the first place? Clearly you felt some form of desire to have sexual intercourse with her to begin with—" His jaw went slack.

"Bloody hell, Granger—"

"So either you're lying about how you felt about her or—" Hermione could feel the moment all air left her lungs when she looked up and found Draco staring back with unease in his gaze, "—you were thinking about someone else." Her words were heavy in the space between them and capable of slicing through many realms at once.

"You'd said you had an argument that night," she calculated, recalling lingering gazes and matching scowls directed at her when she'd passed them by with Viktor. Meanwhile, he nonchalantly pulled her back into his chest, resuming their slow dancing as her voice gradually grew higher in pitch. "It wasn't—I wasn't?"

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest into her own.

"A few weeks ago, you'd asked when things changed for me," he prompted curtly. "Well technically speaking—"

"Since Fourth?! You've fancied me since Fourth year?"

"I didn't 'fancy' you," he amended, grimacing. "It was more of an unwanted attraction."

"Regardless, you're telling me that all of a sudden, one day—" she gasped. "Was it because I hit you?" She deadpanned.

"No! That's not—" he began defensively before stopping abruptly, clearing his throat. "It wasn't sudden and it didn't happen in one day. It was a long, strenuous process." He clenched his jaw. "No one's stood up to me like that before."

"So it was because I hit you?" She inquired, raising a brow.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it."

"Granger, I was just delighted I didn't lose my nose because of you," he quipped with a light flush.

"All those times you were a complete and total arsehole," Hermione muttered in amazement as she thought back to Fourth. "At the world cup, with the Death Eaters—"

She heard him chuckle and watched him shake his head at something running through his head.

"I told you to keep your bushy head down, didn't I?"

"You took away points for me being a Muggleborn!" She exclaimed, unsure of how to process this new information. Then she remembered what they were discussing previously, prompting her to release a groan of disgust. "Oh gods, you thought about me when you were shagging someone else," she said, half-horrified and half-flattered. Meanwhile, the corners of his lips slowly pried back into a wry smirk.

"It would seem despite what I tried to convince myself, I've always been inclined to turbulent, haughty bookworms." The protest in her throat diminished when he studied her warily. A silent question lingering in smoldering, silver pools.

Whether or not she still wanted him.

Considering what he'd disclosed to her thus far, Hermione decisively broke away from the embrace to retrieve the last item the House-elf had left, holding it out for him. A deep sigh left him as he took the vial and drank the sobering potion all at once. He groaned at the burn, as it was notorious for being worse than most spirits.

Biting back a witty remark, she stared at him with sympathy and mild amusement as he seemed to belatedly comprehend their circumstances; the part of himself he'd just laid bare to her.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel...regrettably sober and particularly vulnerable," he mused.

"But in control?"

He blinked, the residual haze fading away. He nodded.

"Yes."

Hermione hummed, satisfied with his response.

"Good."

She dove for him.

As their lips connected for the first time in weeks, heat unfurled wildly inside her chest. In return, she felt a low rumble from his throat, managing to send shivers throughout her body as he let himself mitigate and fall into her.

The accumulated tension and newly shared knowledge only provided fuel to the flickering flames. As the ache in her lower abdomen grew, so did her desperation. With the hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, she was able to control the angles and the depth. Quick as Draco was, it wasn't long before he matched her aggression, his own hands finding purpose in her hair.

"Malfoy," she panted into his mouth, the momentary parting allowed him to break away and trail heated kisses along her jaw. Her eyes were half lidded, all logic and reason rapidly fading to bliss. Every inhale, despite being easier to take in, was taut. Too strained. She arched her back, desperate for more. For him. Her hands gripped his arms through the sleeves of his suit jacket. Quickly transitioning from admiring it on him to cursing its presence.

Her body tensed as a soft, fluttering sound snatched her attention.

"Ignore it. That's just Saphira," he mumbled, clearly undeterred.

"Saphira?"

"My owl," Draco clarified as she glanced over his shoulder. On a nearby window sill sat an eagle owl, staring directly at them. Or rather, at her.

Hermione furrowed her brow and straightened out her posture to get a better look, much to his displeasure.

"Eagle owls are extremely rare," she implored, fully stepping away from him and closer to the attentive night-bird who had yet to break their gaze. "Interesting that both you and Harry have them."

"His owl came from my family. Mother anonymously gifted her to him after the trials," he hinted, arching a perfect brow when she reached to pet her. The fog slowly faded as his words sank.

"They're siblings," she noted, fascinated by the way the owl anticipated her movements and reacted with soft coos to her light petting.

Clearly, this owl was familiar with her.

When realization dawned upon Hermione, the witch made a beeline for the set of bookshelves she recalled as the fiction section. Bemused, gray eyes followed her as she scanned the stacks.

"Granger?"

"P...P...P..."

She didn't notice when he picked up on what she was searching for. She didn't notice him tense up when she found it. Hermione drew a sly grin and turned to look at him.

"This is certainly a surprise."

In his wondrous display of novels, he had the entire collection of A. Penmenski books. Including a series he claimed to detest. Well, almost the entire series. There was a gap at the end of 'Black Roses' section where a book appeared to be missing. A book he claimed to never have owned that she now coincidentally possessed.

Draco shrugged, avoiding eye contact as she walked up to him with a slight sway in her hips. "I'm a collector of sorts."

"You're rather rubbish at it. You seem to be missing a book."

"Anyone with the times knows the last book is reasonably difficult to get," he quipped, feigning indifference.

"So you've gone through the trouble of finding it then?"

"Like I said, I'm a collector of sorts."

"For someone who isn't a fan of A. Penmenski, you sure have a funny way of showing it," she leaned closer to whisper as he placed his hands firmly on her waist. "You lied to me," she accused, though the smile on her face said she was anything but upset.

He cleared his throat and whispered back, "I may have fibbed a tad."

"So you don't think his novels are 'redundant and romanticized'," she emphasized smugly and he groaned aloud.

"It nearly killed me to make such an audacious statement." He smirked, leaning down closer to speak low and deep. "But something tells me it was worth it." Glistening, bright brown met icy, sharp silver, and any residual tension stood zero chance when their lips in a slow, drawn out kiss.

She pulled away with a bashful grin. "I could always give it back?"

"Absolutely not. It was a gift," he waved off. "Besides, I've got another copy coming."

"Is the spine gold trimmed?" Hermione retorted.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "The release date for the gold edition won't be announced for at least another year," he quipped, nuzzling the crook of her neck. "Do keep up, darling—"

Darling. That was a new one.

"Spoiled git," she gasped sharply, lacking any heat. In fairness, she'd been waiting for this. Not just for this moment alone with him. But to be free and able to simply feel without worrying about anything else. No murderous wizards. No childish fears. No suffering consequences resulting from a ridiculous plan conjured up by her friends...

No obligations.

No distractions.

No potion.

It then dawned upon her what Blaise meant by 'Potion child.'

Best of all, no worries over what had yet to come. The only thing she wanted to focus on was...

"Malfoy?"

He hummed, trailing his hot breath now along the column of her neck. She fought a whimper as the subtle vibrations trembled through her.

"Would you say tonight constitutes as a proper date?" She managed breathlessly at the sight of him halting in his actions and his eyes flashing.

"I would certainly think so. Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to thank you. Properly," she expressed shakily, "for the quill and the book."

"Is that so?" He purred in a teasing lilt. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I-I want, I want to give you—" she mewled softly when he bit gently on her pulse point, willing for her voice to work.

"Go on, Granger," he goaded. "Say it."

"Everything."

Once Hermione stepped inside, Draco closed the door behind them, locking it with a sound click and leaning against it. He stood with his arms crossed as she continued to survey the room, admiring how it set apart from the rest of the Manor. Clean. Not overly decorated. Bookshelves adorned with a modest blend of classics and modern works. A marble fireplace. A set of double doors which lead out to a balcony. A large, four poster bed dressed with luxurious sheets, including an identical cashmere blanket she remembered from his bed at Hogwarts.

A giggle burst free from her.

"What?"

She looked back at him, smiling wryly.

"Your bedroom. It's very predictable," she laughed while leaning against one of the posts to his bed. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed off from the door, closing in on her. Along the way, he shrugged his suit jacket from his shoulders.

Gods.

In conjunction with her harboring nerves, her hunger for him grew. Judging by his sly smile as he fiddled with his cufflinks, he was well aware of the fact.

The moment she realized how real this was when he moved on to the waistcoat.

With her in the middle of his bedroom in his childhood home. With him standing directly in front of her and undressing and looking at her like she was the redemption to all his wrongdoings.

"I'd like the privilege of removing your clothes myself, if you don't mind," she blurted, hardly believing those words escaped her lips. Neither could he, apparently. His hands froze halfway to his collar. Silver eyes blown wide and darkened all in one breath. The tether between them had been stretched to its limits and there was nothing left for it to do but be snapped back together; which was exactly what happened.

Throwing caution to the wind, they met halfway and collided in a heated tangle of limbs, the rest of their restraint falling in shards around them along with the rest of the world.

Waistcoat quickly abandoned, she tugged at the knot of his tie around his neck and with a few pulls, managed to yank it free before starting on the buttons of his dress shirt.

Unfortunately, taking control didn't make the nagging feeling at the back of her head go away.

She wanted him. More than that, she wanted it to be good for him; for both of them. But to get there, she would have to bare herself. Lay entirely exposed in front of a person she held a complex past with not even a year prior. Her and Ron didn't so much as experimented with each others bodies for they never extended past the standard transaction of sex. Realistically, how could she do it with Malfoy when she could hardly do it with Ron? Someone she harbored feelings for for as long as she could rememb—?

"Granger?" Draco inquired upon sensing her hesitation.

"N-nothing. It's nothing." Hermione worried her bottom lip before he caught it with his thumb, gingerly swiping her cheek before bending to press a kiss to her lips. Her heart hammered in her throat as she stiffened slightly. Just enough that she knew he'd notice.

"Doesn't feel like nothing," he whispered, pulling away to narrow his eyes at her. "Are you nervous?"

"No. Of course not." She gave an unconvincing scoff, trying not to focus on the sliver of skin from the buttons she'd opened.

"What happened to the assertive witch who would have had her wicked way with me in the Restricted Section if I hadn't stopped her?"

"That was different."

Draco frowned. "You know I won't take this lightly, Granger. I've got all evening," he reminded, unconvinced.

"I do want to—with you—" she emphasized, the words slipping through like cracks in glass.

"But?" he prompted, and as she tilted her chin up, he let his drop. Silently toying with the distance between them.

"I never told you the other part of why Ron and I ended things," she began nervously. Despite looking far from comfortable by the sudden shift of topics, he said nothing. "The first and last time I did this was with him over the summer. Not to downplay our first experience or his abilities but it left things very...awkward between us."

The corner of his lips quirked. "That bad, eh?" Hermione felt a wave of satisfaction when he grunted in displeasure and rubbed his arm where he'd been hit. She took the opportunity to start pacing back and forth. Then, the word vomit commenced.

"It was my fault," she blurted, catching them both off guard. "I'd been preoccupied for weeks with the trials and we became distant so it seemed like the perfect solution. But I couldn't get comfortable enough and he had trouble keeping it up so we spent most of it fumbling around like blind fools," she confessed in hysterics. Draco remained silent, watching her with an unwavering gaze. "My letter showed up a week later and I left shortly after so we didn't talk about it for months. And it wasn't for lack of trying. I sent letter after fucking letter but clearly, he'd moved on in his own way. He still won't tell me who he's seeing." She let out a harsh laugh. "Despite how utterly embarrassing this is for me, I feel like I should tell you because—" she trailed off to see his concerned gaze fixed on her.

What if I'm just naturally not good at sex?

What if I'm not what you expected?

What if you change your mind about me?

He continued to watch her in silence, analyzing her. She could only imagine how ridiculous she must have looked. Disheveled and rambling her insecurities in the middle of the bedroom of a man she never considered until recently. Yet, here he was watching and attentively listening to her like she was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on. She remained still as he approached her, placing his hands firmly on her waist, allowing her to feel the heat of him through the thick fabric of their dress clothes.

"Obviously, I can't speak for Weasley," Draco tread lowly. "But I can tell you that regardless of what happens, you won't disappoint me."

"How can you be so certain?"

When he caught her chin and forced her to look up at him, she was pinned under his silver gaze. The pale moonlight gleaming through the window cast onto them in a luminescent glow. The more she found comfort in his elegant features — a soft smile, glistening eyes, a boyish laugh — she found herself just as affected by imagining the sudden switch he would make when he inevitably took her — desperate, hard kisses, a gaze with a blazing fire within them, and deep, husky pleasure riddled groans hitting repeatedly against heated skin.

Hermione held her breath as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

"Because you're already far superior to anything I've ever imagined."

Floored by his response, Hermione felt a different part of her begin to flutter. The subsequent kiss was slow and gentle at first. Then urgent. And in no time, became breathtaking and sensational. It wasn't a clumsy collision like she'd known with others before, but rather a release of pent up emotion and unbridled passion.

As her nerves gave way, she felt that familiar desperation clawing its way from her core to the pit of her stomach. She was trembling again, but from want and need instead of anxiety. Instinctively, she arched her back, pressing onto her heels and pushing her heaving chest into him until she felt him sit at the edge of the bed.

Using their new position as leverage, she tested the waters by grounding into him and earning a low hiss.

With another rub against him, she felt the floodgates open as confidence led her down the path towards pleasure and bliss. Before she could lower herself back down again, he had dropped his hands to her arse, gripping her steadily against the growing hardness in his trousers.

"Granger," his voice was low and crisp and effortlessly neutral as he let his warm lips trail along her ear. "My control is wearing thin."

"Well then," she exhaled, tentatively taking his hands in hers and raising them slightly until they landed on a metallic tab. "What are you waiting for?"

Challenge accepted.

He could feel the goosebumps on her back as he gripped the tab and pulled it down slowly. The sound of her zipper releasing was obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room but neither of them felt put off. Instead, it only heightened their anticipation. She groaned at his slow pace and Draco quirked a brow.

"Eager, are we?" He teased huskily into the shell of her ear.

"I feel it in you, too," she retorted cheekily as he brushed the sleeves off her shoulders and down her arms. His gaze was steady when the dress was lowered to her waist.

"Contrary to what most think, black's never been my favorite color," he drawled, a single finger tracing the black lace edge of her previously glamoured bra, "but you just might change my mind." He eyed the garment hungrily before he bent down to lavish the newly exposed skin.

"Malfoy—" she strained.

"Don't worry," he breathed out between kisses to heated skin, taking hold of a strap and tugging it down. "While I continue to question your previous taste in blokes," another tug to pull a lace cup down, thumbing over the nub, "I'm not deterred in the slightest." A groan vibrated through her as he took the hardened nipple into his mouth.

At the light suction, a gasp forced out at the unfamiliar, yet welcome, sensation, practically feeling him grin smugly against her breast.

His lips pulled and tugged, releasing a new set of shockwaves throughout her body. She needed to be preoccupied. Needed something to do with her hands. Something to keep herself from—

"Stop it," he mumbled against her breast.

"What?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Don't think," he commanded, lowering her other strap. "Just feel."

The instruction was easy to follow as he gave his undivided attention to her breasts. She tilted her head back and clenched his hair, keeping his head in place. "Oh god," she gasped, tightening her hold even further. All she could do was mumble half coherent curse words as he alternated between slow, teasing flicks of his tongue, and taking it in his mouth and suckling.

Her eyes closed, focusing on the feel of him. His hands. His wicked tongue. His thigh pressing between her legs. Until a newfound urge came through. So she stood, pushing him to sit back onto the bed completely and taking the spare second free to peel her gown off the rest of the way. Her heels followed suit.

"Bloody Morgana," Draco breathed, unable to take his eyes away as she crawled on top of him like a succubus stalking her victim, left in matching undergarments and her bra askew. Hermione straddled his lap and did away with the remaining buttons to his shirt. When she went to push it from his shoulders, a larger, pale hand came up to stop her, temporarily breaking the spell.

All previous signs of arousal had been placed on a brief halt. A steel mask in place to shield her from what he concealed. At her questioning glance, he sighed. Then his hesitant eyes drifted to his left arm. Her eyes widened; it seemed he forwent the need for a glamour charm tonight.

"I don't care that it's there," she assured, using her free hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. "I want to see you."

With attentive eyes she could feel piercing into the depths of her, he eventually nodded.

So she proceeded.

Her hands followed the parts of the shirt as she pushed it back and off. As the crisp fabric fell away, Hermione felt desire pool when he sat up to peel it back the rest of the way, swallowing at the sight of his sculpted, unmarked figure. Where the years of training and Quidditch practice made themselves apparent. Her hands drifted and explored, finding their way across planes of muscles before trailing down his arms. Keeping his focus until her fingertips snagged along marred flesh. Only then did she look down. Pristine skin had been obstructed by pink, raw lines from where his mark fought him.

Bringing his arm up to her face, she dragged her lips across the scar tissue. The skin was smoother than she expected. Hermione closed her eyes, darting her tongue out to taste him. A tender caress for what he'd endured, finding nothing but sweetness and an insatiable impulse to taste everywhere he'd permit. A sharp intake of breath shook her. It seemed he forgot to breathe.

Her eyes widened when he sat up fully, pulling her into a punishing kiss. His hands roamed her face, her curls, her neck before reaching back to unclasp her bra, swiftly pulling it away to toss it precariously to the side.

"Fuck," Draco muttered hoarsely. His chest moved rapidly as he took her in, eyes drifting along her as if deciding what to do with her next.

His lips came blissfully back to hers as he took his place between her legs. Her hands clutched onto his shoulders, nails digging into bare skin as she arched against him, utterly awash. As she did so, her hips ground against his, once again granting them the gift of friction. She chased after the feeling, not wanting it to end. From this angle, she could feel the length of him, hard against her damp knickers as he rolled against her again, and her brain came roaring back to life. Just enough to muster;

"Your trousers," she rasped. "I want them off."

Alerted ears twitched when she heard the metal clink of his belt being unlatched. Followed by the feeling of his knuckles brushing against her abdomen as he moved lower and lower on the placket. The sound of the buttons slipping through their holes hit her like ticking seconds down to a timebomb, taunting her of what was to come.

Without separating, she assisted in pushing his trousers down and over his hips, barely acknowledging the light thump of the article hitting the floor. Or the clunking of his dragonhide shoes right behind it. Then he glanced down at her final article.

"May I?"

With a slight nod, he took the sides of her knickers and peeled them down her legs.

After tossing the garment to the floor, he held her legs open to see.

"So wet," he muttered in awe. "Is this all for me, Granger?" He teased her slit with the tip of his finger, drawing small circles along her moist opening. Slowly, he slid his finger into her with a fair amount of resistance. Just as he suspected; she was extremely tight. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together and feeling his breath on her neck when he started moving his hand.

The pressure was nice. But she wanted more.

"Malfoy, please," she opened her eyes and found him watching her. "No more of this—" she whined and tilted her hips up, trying to communicate what she wanted but he held her down firmly by her waist.

"Trust me," he bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smirking when she huffed stubbornly. "You're going to wish you had it," he concluded coyly.

He added another, doing a series of twists inside her, pressing, pumping; all in unison to coerce a whimper from her lips.

"Okay?"

She nodded shakily, not trusting her voice.

Her whimpers and breaths increased and she began to ride his hand, hearing him gasp as she moved against him. Then, his thumb pressed against her nub and her patience wore out.

"Stop."

He froze, pulling away.

"Are you—"

"That's enough. I'm ready," she blurted. She took a breath to steady her nerves. "Please."

Silence enveloped them as her words lingered in the air.

He began kissing her, feeling her plead against his lips, and he reached down, ridding himself of the final layer.

"Do you need a contraceptive charm?" he asked. His voice was thick, practically choking with his want for her. She felt a thrill at seeing him so affected.

"After," she decided upon feeling the stiffness of his arousal between her thighs. She sank further into the pillows when the tip caught where it throbbed the most, coating him in her slickness.

In a final exhale, he pressed forward.

And fuck, it was tight.

She hadn't forgotten how unpleasant this part was and she knew the discomfort was written plainly on her face. Hermione shuddered in his hold as a squeak of pain escaped her. As he pushed in, every inch felt like a mile and for a moment that stretched into forever, she wished he were smaller.

"You need to relax," he whispered huskily, nuzzling her cheek as he gently nipped at her ear. "I can't go further without hurting you if you don't." As her muscles gradually relaxed, he slid in deeper.

"Are you," she licked her dry lips, "are you completely in now?"

He shook his head. "No, about halfway."

"Holy shit, how big are you?" She cursed, tossing her head back against his pillow.

"I tried to warn you," he drawled, not even remotely offended as he raised a brow.

"Give me everything," she decided.

"What?" He stammered before grunting while she hissed, her face contorting involuntarily as her heel dug into his arse, widening her thighs and pulling him deeper inside until their hips were flush.

Gods. She'd never felt this full before.

She felt that same pinching inside, but she was immediately distracted by the trembling above her as he let out a harsh groan. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at his expression. His eyes were closed shut and his jaw was clenched. He appeared to be in pain.

Then, his eyes shot open, nearly black and shrouded with unbridled desire as they took in her awestruck expression. When his jaw released, she knew it wasn't pain.

He felt pleasure. And she was the one giving it to him.

Despite being under him and at his mercy, she never felt more powerful.

"Can I move?" His voice was deep and rough. It was everything she never knew she wanted. It was enough to make her say—

"Yes."

He pulled back only to shift forward to slowly sheath himself again, another low groan escaped his throat.

"Fuck, you...you're," he groaned, voice raspy as he searched for the words.

"Is it okay?" She asked, eyes shut tight, half delirious as her mind zeroed in on something pleasurable.

"You're fucking perfect," he said in a strangled tone, and then he was kissing her again, rocking into her. Getting her acquainted to his size until all of a sudden—

She moaned.

He paused, studying her.

Then, with utmost precision, he aimed to hit that spot again. And again. And again.

She lost her breath as the pinching subsided and something better took its place. He withdrew again, and this time, thrust into her with firmer pressure. When she whimpered, he did it again. And again. Gradually building up a steady pace and intensifying his thrusts.

Everything felt—

He was—

"Draco."

Finally, the race against her impending orgasm had begun to pick up. Until, it wasn't... Instead, it was fading away because at some point, he stopped moving. Her eyes opened to find him watching her with a strange look in his eye, slightly muted by desire.

"What's wrong?"

"You said it again," he stated with awe while her brows furrowed.

What? What was he talking about?

Rewinding the last few seconds to recall what she'd said, her eyes widened slightly as they met his intense gaze.

"Surely I've called you that before."

"You have. Twice. The first being that day in the bathroom," he admitted softly.

"You remembered that?" She implored, astonished that he remembered something to such great detail. Then again, this was Malf—no. Draco.

This was Draco.

"How couldn't I?" A dark laugh escaped him, "It haunted me for months," he enunciated by snapping his hips forward again. She gasped, clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline.

"I-I'm sorry—" He took that moment to move his hips upwards, cutting her off.

"Don't you dare apologize," he commanded, she clenched around him with another hard thrust. "Say it again."

She whimpered as he steadily rocked his hips, feeling the ache from earlier arising once more.

"Say it."

"Please—"

"Say my name, Granger."

"Draco—"

The tail-end of his name escaped from her in the form of a blissful moan. He growled, the last of his restraint being ripped away. He hitched her leg up higher around his waist, both of them reeling when he slid in deeper. She threw her head back, lips parted in ecstasy as he began a steady rhythm. In the midst of their embrace, he pressed their lips together. She instinctively reciprocated and pulled him closer, hands grasping his soft hair at the nape of his neck. She began to gasp into his mouth with his thrusts, the sweat building up between them. He pulled away to latch onto the groove between her shoulder and neck. His harsh breaths hitting her skin.

This.

This was how sex was intended to feel. This was what it meant to physically ache for another. At this moment, nothing else in the world mattered except for his pleasure as he prioritized hers.

One hand fondled her breast while the other traveled between them, playing at her.

Little sounds of pleasure grew louder as he worked her harder, faster, feeling herself getting lighter and lighter. Her need for him increased exponentially as the tension within her built, and built, and built like weight on fragile glass, pressing on it repeatedly...until it shattered.

She arched her body into him, letting out his given name in the form of a pleasure-riddled moan, clenching tighter around him than before. She lost the ability to breathe, too overwhelmed by pure white bliss erupting from her core and actively drowning her.

His motions were spaced out as she fell apart beneath him, like he was trying to sync the apex of his thrusts with the waves of her high to drag it out as long as he could. Once she began to recede, her eyes fluttered open to meet his, still shrouded and heavy with unresolved tension. Like he was pleading with her for something.

All she could manage was a weak, blissful smile.

In that instant, she saw Draco's resolve snap like a twig and watched with amazement as his eyes slammed shut, letting out a deep, throaty groan while trembling violently before he went still.

Heavy pants escaped him as he struggled to catch his breath. His head remained between her breasts while they recovered, taking in her heavenly scent as he gradually softened within her. She wondered if they could fall asleep like this.

A small knock on the door startled them both from post-coital bliss.

"Master Draco?" Came the soft voice of Buddy the House-elf.

"What is it?" His voice was muffled.

"Your mother has requested your presence."

He cursed and Hermione stifled a snort.

'Told you,' she mouthed, silently laughing when he shushed her.

"Tell her I'll be there momentarily."

"As you wish, sir." And he was gone.

When he shifted, he slid out of her, leaving her to process just how strangely empty she felt. Then she remembered just how naked she was as he took one last look at her before standing upright, offering a hand to help her up. He bent down, fishing the wand out of his trouser pocket to take aim at her abdomen and muttered a quick incantation. Another wave, and they'd been cleansed of their mess and horrendous hair.

While they collected their discarded clothing from the floor and donned them one by one, she felt more unsettled as the seconds passed. She could see the same question dancing in his eyes until he diverted his attention to checking his time piece.

"It's almost midnight. You should go before the Floo closes," he said softly.

She nodded silently, preparing to exit through his bedroom door until he stopped her with a firm, yet gentle grip on her wrist. At her bemused expression, he pulled her away from the door and led her to the actively burning fireplace in the middle of the room.

"Your fireplace has Floo access to Hogwarts?" She prompted, surprised.

"The Ministry had to grant me access to let Pansy through," he said tiredly, wandlessly summoning the bag of Floo powder.

"Is that so?" She hummed, considering. "Seems to me anyone could walk through here," she teased, echoing her words from earlier. He chuckled, catching on and tugging her closer.

"No. Not just anyone."

With a grateful laugh, her eyes remained on him as he leaned in to press a soft, warm kiss to her lips. Hard enough to convey his affection, soft enough to leave her wanting more. In a moment that came far too soon, he pulled away.

She took a handful of dust from the floating bag and with one last smile, she tossed it into the fireplace, whispered her destination and stepped forward into the flames.

A/N: Hmmm, yes...quite :)