Disclaimer: not mine.
Author's Note: thanks to all who are bearing with me and this fic... i owe you all. so here's (gasp) another chapter. I'm quite fond of certain parts. On a side note, go read A Teenaged Snape? by Natsuyori. I've come on board as the beta-reader/co-writer, and it updates a lot more frequently than this. (Mainly because Nat will have my arse if it doesn't.) now go flock.
You make me feel (so alive that I'm)
Trying hard not to (make moves, choosing the wrong place and time)
Everyone will know, the minute we let it go.
I can't hold it anymore, let's be original.
No holds barred, can you feel it
Coming along, break the silence, non-directional -
No holds barred, can you feel it coming along, it's on.
Hit the switch and turn me on.
You make me feel complicated,
Sometimes I try to explain the way you took me, turn it all around,
Everyone will know the minute we let it go.
I can't hold it anymore, let's be original.
No holds barred, can you feel it
Coming along, break the silence, non-directional -
No holds barred, can you feel it coming along, it's on.
Hit the switch and turn me on.
-ThousandFootKrutch
Draco turned as well, reaching out. He placed his hands on her shoulders, making them draw up, edgy and unknowing. Slowly, he ran them down her arms, making the softly coloured hair on them stand on end. It spoke to her better than a sound ever could, telling her everything he needed her to know; that it was okay to be apprehensive, to be fragile, to be a confusing jumble of emotions. He worked his fingertips back up her arms to her shoulders once more and kneaded them, removing the knots that had been growing there over the past few days, telling her he was sorry to have made her tense. Instinctively, she let out a soft moan of pleasure, releasing her stress and trepidation. His hands moved upwards once more to undo the complex knot of hair. She didn't have to appear perfect; her elegance was a part of her personality. He ran his fingers through the soft auburn curls, murmuring her name, and she leaned backwards, into him. It was strange, she thought, that her body could curve and fit so perfectly against his. Yet somehow it made perfect sense. But what was… "Ouch!" she exclaimed, breaking them out of their trance like state. "What on earth…?" looking around, she realized she had moved quite a bit from where she had last been sitting, and the skirt of her dress had moved up, just below her knees. Promptly, she stood up and straightened out her dress, and realized what had poked her – her wand was in a pocket in the back of her dress. With her… preoccupation… she must have forgotten it.
Noticing her discovery, Draco laughed. It put Hermione at ease… it was an unusual sound coming from Draco, the kind of laugh that exists between two people completely comfortable with one another. "I had Winky, that house elf Dobby likes, bring some of your stuff here and put it in the bathroom… I figured you might want to change out of your dress."
"You're on a first name basis with the house elves? Admittedly, I didn't expect that…"
"I've discovered that being courteous to the house elves helps when you go on midnight food raids. On the other hand, I got a pair of socks last Christmas from Dobby… his knitting talents leave a lot to be desired."
"He's improving… I think. Year before last, I couldn't tell what it was, exactly, that he had given me."
He laughed again. Hermione noticed that when he smiled, he looked a lot… warmer. "Well, you might as well get changed. I think I'll do the same… these dress pants are a bit scratchy." She watched as he drifted off towards what she guessed was his bedroom. Lavender was right… he does have a nice arse, she mused, giggling inwardly as she made her way to the bathroom.
Winky had made an excellent choice of clothing, in Hermione's opinion. She slipped on a pair of old black jeans that she found incredibly comfortable, with a design of purple embroidery up the side of one flared leg. She didn't think she'd ever admit it, but the embroidery was actually her own handiwork; she had taken it up one summer after running out of books to read. The shirt was a long sleeved green one that was nice but simple, like most of her clothing - she hated to fuss with frills. She grinned as she remembered Draco's comment about the color green. Hermione sighed in relief as she reached the bottom of the pile – there was her bra. The dress was strapless and charmed to tame her figure, but despite her lack of much in the way of curves, she didn't need to go out there without one… like the rest of her wardrobe, it was simple, but with elegant detailing. It was black in colour, something Hermione often thought about, even if it was slightly odd. She had gotten it while shopping by herself during last summer's break. In the past, she had always worn a white one, but she was drawn to it for some reason, and bought it. She had to acknowledge to herself that there was a part of her that wanted to show it off, no matter how much resistance her bookish, practical self offered. She slipped her clothes on, checked her hair (something she had done ever since it had lost most of its bushiness; she was still in awe), and crept outside. She shivered slightly; she was, after all, in the dungeons. Feeling a hand creeping up her spine, she let her back arc impulsively as she turned around to see him. He was wearing dark, slightly baggy jeans; with a tighter dark blue t-shirt that showed off the abs he had gained from hours of Quidditch practice. Hermione's eyes glimmered with amusement as she noted that Draco's appearance choices were almost identical to Harry's, right down to the tousled hair that looked like it had been arranged by his sleeping habits. She decided that guys were much more sensible than girls when it came to hair – instead of worrying about what was in fashion, they just rolled out of bed and proclaimed that to be the latest style. With the odd exception of course… after all, there was Sirius… that man fretted over his hair more than Pavarti! Of course, Sirius wasn't entirely… masculine. Harry hadn't appeared to notice, but Remus and Sirius seemed to both disappear at the same times…
"What are you thinking?" Draco asked, laughing.
"Huh?"
"When you're thinking about something, you kind of tune out. When you think something is funny, your eyes light up."
"…How do you know all these things?"
"I watch people. Artist's prerogative."
"And what have you seen?"
"Well, there are the usual things… Blaise thinks Ginny's hot; Neville has a serious crush on you, Voldemort's been calling a lot of meetings lately – Snape's been rubbing his arm abnormally often, and of course, you were severely annoyed by Ron."
She looked incredulously at him.
"It's not that difficult, really, you just have to pay attention. Zabini stares at Ginny all through lunch. Neville sighs in your direction during charms, and looks away whenever you turn in his direction. And you stare elsewhere whenever Ron talks to you. See?"
"Mm-hm. It's actually kind of scary, you know. Like you're a stalker."
He laughed again, and Hermione decided she thoroughly enjoyed the sound.
Draco sat back down on the couch, pulling her with him so that they were half-sitting, half lying down together; their bodies nestled together. For a while they were silent, enjoying the closeness and letting their minds wander, until Draco murmured, "truth or dare?"
"What?" she laughed.
"Come on, you heard me." he drawled. "Truth, or dare?"
"Um…" she began, still laughing. "Truth."
"Okay… what is… your favorite food?"
"My favorite food?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"You have to leave some good questions for the end of the game." He advised.
"Alright… favorite food… chocolate dipped strawberries. Now, your turn: truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Stop smirking or I'll call you Drakie-poo like Pansy does."
"I'm not smirking!"
"Yes you are. Anyways, I dare you to explain why you have a book of poetry."
"More of a truth question, but whatever. Being Malfoy's, we have a grossly huge library, half of which is filled with books on the dark arts, but there are other books there as well, to impress the guests. And having poetry makes you look sophisticated, I suppose. Anyways, I don't have much to do during the summers, so I read, mostly. Your turn."
"Truth."
"Again? Let's see… what's the deal with you and Ron? Honestly, now."
She was silent for a moment, then began. "Our relationship just sort of… happened. We hang out together by default, and then suddenly we were being considered a couple. He's nice, and considerate. He brings me food when I skip a meal to study, that sort of thing…"
"But?"
"…But nothing more. He never touches me. It sounds odd, I know, but I'm not very good at explaining things verbally… I need touch to express emotion, and… well, also to feel safe, I suppose."
"You suppose?" he ran his fingers down her side, almost tickling her, and left his hand on her waist, slightly tucked beneath her shirt.
She savored the moment, the caress, then murmured, "your turn."
"Truth."
"Hmm… what's the truth, really, with your playboy status?"
"Interested, are you? Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm only kidding."
"My knickers are-"
"Proves it. Anyways, in fifth and sixth year, I pretty much was a playboy. I was trying to distract myself from all the stuff going on at home, I guess. I never actually shagged any of them, if that's what you wanted to know… but fooling around never changed anything, helped with anything, so I stopped. And then… this."
"What is 'this'?"
"I'm not quite sure, exactly. But whatever it is, it's helping." After a shared silence, he stated: "Your turn."
"Dare." Hermione grinned.
"Hmm… I could have so much fun with this…"
She slapped him lightly. "Don't be an evil bastard, Draco."
"Aww… but it's so much fun!" then more seriously, he continued, "Evil bastard? That sounds like Weasley… hmm… I know! When he invariably asks where you were and what you were doing tonight, tell him… oh let's say… the first thing that pops into your mind."
"That's your dare?"
"'Mione, if there's one thing I've noticed about you over the years it's that Weasley and Potter exasperate you to no end at times, and that you are incredibly good at resisting any and all temptation to tell them exactly what you're thinking."
"Unlike you, who has absolutely no sense of tact."
"I make up for it with my witty repartee."
"Uh-huh…"
"Anyways, the point is, I'd like to see what it is that you really want to say. I'd like to see you have some fun. You take things much too seriously."
"You think I need to have more fun?" Hermione asked, a hint of mischievousness in her voice.
"Very much so."
"Well… there is… one… thing that might be fun," she whispered seductively, moving to sit on Draco's legs.
"Oh? And what might that be?" he replied, with obvious interest.
"This." Hermione grinned, and began to tickle him furiously.
"Hey! Stop that!" Draco protested, between laughs. Finally, he managed to pin her wrists down to the sofa as he kneeled before her. "D'you know what I consider fun? This." He dipped his head down to kiss her lightly, brushing his lips over hers. Hermione moaned as he kissed her again, this time roughly as he leaned down on top of her. Without any thought but as to it felt, to how it would make him feel, she kissed back, her lips trailing down his neck as her arms snaked around his neck and her hands into his hair. Still kissing her, Draco's hands moved upwards underneath her shirt, caressing the skin on her sides. She deepened the kiss in response to the touch, and tasted him… honeysuckle, she thought briefly. His hands continued to move dexterously on her skin and his fingers made little spirals up her back when suddenly a loud clatter shocked them from the reverie. They jumped apart, staring at one another rather than looking to see what had caused this disruption. Hermione's shirt was off, lying on the floor, and Draco's was completely unbuttoned.
"Damn." Draco mumbled, almost inaudibly.
"I… I don't remember doing that." Hermione stated pointedly.
"Huh?"
She pointed to his shirt. "Oh, Merlin… Draco, I can't… I mean… fuck." She muttered.
Draco's head snapped up. "Did you just say 'fuck'?"
"Yes. The incredibly proper Hermione Granger just swore. What's that have to do with anything?"
"Well, considering your choice of words, a lot, I'd say."
"Draco, we shouldn't."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't want to have sex tonight because our hormones are running wild and then regret it in the morning and never talk to you again. I don't want that."
A silence followed, and both of them refused to look up until Draco tentatively placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I suppose you're right love, as always."
"Love?" Hermione questioned, alarm in her eyes.
"Yes. As I said before, you're helping."
"I don't know if… it's just so sudden, Draco. And maybe… maybe I'm scared." She placed her arms across her chest. "I can't say that to you yet. Please understand."
"Of course, 'Mione. But don't expect me to stop saying it," Draco stood up, and pulled Hermione up into an embrace. "Now come on. It's late, time for bed." He took her hand and began leading her towards his bedroom.
She pulled her hand out of his grasp. "Draco, did you not hear a word I just said?"
"Hermione, do you trust me?"
"Well…" she looked down. "I'm trying."
"'Mione, I promise. Just sleep, alright? Besides, do you want to explain to Snape what you were doing in the Slytherin dormitories at this hour?"
She grinned. "No, not particularly. Lead the way."
