Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to J.K. Rowling
Note: If you're uncomfortable with the idea of sex… I feel very, very sorry for you. Sex is a wonderful thing. Embrace it! That being said, there's a sex scene up ahead. It's very mild, though (I think) so erm, nothing to worry about. Really. ^__~
Women. Women.
Such beautiful creatures. And sometimes, too beautiful for their own good. The sway of their hips could hypnotise the most somber of men. They were the worst temptation that the Heavens could have ever thought of to create and it was only in my mind and in the rest of the male races' just how miraculous it is that men's hands were made to fit a woman's breast, the curve of their buttocks.
It's really no wonder why I feel the need to help myself. Every now and then…
Again and again…
~~
She was lovely. Comparable to a rose in winter… rare, fragile, his.
She lay on his bed, her bare, seemingly serpentine body beckoning to him—a feast to a famished man. And he was there, on top of her in less than a second, holding her, touching her in places she had only read in magazines and heard in whispered conversation, consuming her with such ferocity that the passion seemed almost like… magic.
There was a sense of urgency and they both felt it. A blanket of need covered them both and sensitized their flesh far more than normal.
With sleek movements he grasped her thigh tenderly and raised it high onto his strong shoulder. He drew back and in a moment later, he was there, in her, his hunger being fed by her moist center.
Draco inhaled her scent deeply, his intoxication with it leading him to thrust deeper and faster into her welcoming warmth in a deliberate uneven tempo. She was so tight and so hot.
He leaned down and his hands grasped at the silky bed sheet as he arched his back in pleasure and pain. Merlin, he was going to have to make a mental note to tell her to cut her fingernails. He grit his teeth as her hands made another path down his back and onto his buttocks, squeezing them for all they were worth.
And it seemed that they were worth a bloody lot.
"Draco…"
Spoken like an angel.
It took all his power to slow down and with as much control as he could muster he reached on his hands down between their bodies slick with sweat. He smiled the moment he pressed two fingers into her wetness eliciting a hot moan against his ear. He bent his head down, letting his hair rake down her neck before capturing an inviting nipple into his mouth.
Draco Malfoy was not a selfish lover. To him, lovemaking was an art. An art that he had perfected over the years. He knew this was torture for her. His sporadic thrusts into her core left her in equal throes of completion and need.
"Ooh…" Draco breathed heatedly against her full breast. He gave another delicious moan when he felt her hips thrust up against him, taking him more fully and even deeper than before and then biting into the tender flesh of his neck. "Ooh…"
Um.
Draco came to an abrupt stop and leaning on his side, he stared into eyes dark with passion.
"I, uh…" Draco cleared his throat. He hadn't wanted to ask but before he could stop himself, the question had already passed from his lips.
"Er, might I ask for your name? Again?"
A quarter of an hour later found Draco Malfoy alone on his bed, cold and unsatisfied, utterly regretful and filled with self-loathing.
He knew enough to wait until the end to ask stupid questions. Questions like, "Are you married?" "Do have you any diseases I should know about?" "So you don't have any sort of criminal past, do you?" and the like.
I'll never learn, Draco thought with a groan. He quickly got to his feet and pulled on a pair of black trousers that lay carelessly at the foot of his bed. He braced himself for what lay behind his bedroom door.
Music already had the flat reverberating in a dizzying beat and the bass was nearly strong enough to make his stomach roll over and shudder. The moment he opened the door, the compulsion to hex everyone out of the living room was overpowering.
"What in Hades' name is going on here?" he asked exasperatedly, his question pointed at whichever Lafferty brother was sober enough to comprehend English, which would have automatically made it Daniel as Liam was already passed out on the settee. Drooling.
Daniel, though, it looked, was having a difficult time understanding what had been asked of him. His head was tilted to the side and it was visible to anyone that he was still digesting the words one by one.
"I, erm… is a bachelor party?"
Well, that certainly explained the hookers that scattered the living room scantily-clad in… almost nothing. One of which was in the process of feeling Draco up.
What was this? The fourth bachelor party for the month?
He gave her a withering glare that sent her scampering in the opposite direction. "I'm going out. By the time I come back, this mess better be gone, your guests gone and the two of you… just elsewhere," he snapped, while grabbing his coat by the front door along with a warm grey scarf.
It was only too perfect that he forgot to put on a shirt.
A few moments later, a properly dressed Draco Malfoy stepped out into the cold November night, with one destination in mind. Two actually, but that was completely beside the point.
He checked his watch and saw that it was a little after midnight. Just in luck as the coffee shop at the corner of the street closed at one in the morning. In silent contemplation with only the sound of his footsteps and cats rattling around in trashcans as his company, Draco went on in a leisurely pace.
What an awful night it had turned out to be. What he wouldn't give to be back in bed with… well, with… whatever her name was. It's been ages (well, a week) since he'd been intimate with someone and he doubted if his libido understood that this lack of action had nothing to do with lack of want. As it were, it had already bordered into need.
Draco entered the café with a noticeable grim look on his face and later left with two steaming cups of delicious smelling coffee, scones and without the menacing frown (which might have gotten stuck between the sticky buns and the strawberry tarts). The smell of cinnamon could do wonders to the disposition.
Thankfully, the street was deserted and the necessity of looking for a dark alley way from which to Apparate from and thus popped his way to Hermione's front door without too much hassle.
He knocked three times in succession.
And then another three.
"Hermione?"
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door swung open.
"Malfoy?"
Draco tilted his head to the side. "Potter?"
~~
Death Eater jokes. Seriously. I've read them in the Daily Prophet. In the funnies.
Admittedly, I have laughed at some of them, as they were indeed comical. But then what is humour? Isn't the best humour just truth dressed up in wit? Essentially, we're laughing at things that might have hurt us in some way, truths that stung and pasts that may have altered our lives irreparably.
Life. Life's just one big joke, isn't it?
~~
Someone, somewhere up above, had a sense of humour.
Having coffee with Harry Potter, childhood nemesis, bane of his existence—the possibility that left him in throes of confusion and amazement. After all, they weren't tearing at each other's hair or hexing each other to a bloody pulp at the very least. There was an uneasy tension between them that couldn't be ignored, though; it didn't weigh down on Hermione's good mood.
The pill of happiness hath cometh to Hermione Granger and swallowed her whole. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Not that it wasn't normal to see her happy. It was just odd for her to be happy and not worried about the prospect of bloodshed.
Moments wherein the two of them found themselves in each other's company were always tense. Perhaps much of the tension had to do with the sordid past that they shared, but beyond that… it was just habit. The nasty looks and biting retorts no longer existed. Draco no longer had anything to fight for and Harry—Harry was just tired of fighting.
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "So, Potter… How's work at the Ministry?"
"Good. Good."
"Ah, good."
Harry took a sip of his coffee before clearing his throat in a not so discreet manner. "And you? How's the business?"
"Good…"
So much for spontaneous conversation…
Draco smiled weakly at Harry, who was staring into his coffee cup in an odd sort of daze, and Hermione, who was enthusiastically scribbling something onto the pieces of parchment laid out on her huge work desk.
"I'll just get some more coffee to erm…" Draco stood up and Hermione finally looked up from her occupied state. "Add to my coffee," he finished off lamely and made his way to Hermione's lavish kitchen.
He sat on one of the counter stools and sighed, leaning his head on his arm and closing his eyes. Ugh, he was tired. It was one in the morning and he couldn't keep his eyes open. Going back to his flat wasn't an option either has he suspected that the brothers had already passed out in drunkenness before they could follow his orders.
Draco felt two arms envelop his waist and Hermione's chin land on his shoulder. "You all right? You seem a bit… well, off to be perfectly honest."
The calm tones of her voice proceeded to lull him into a sense of comfort and security. Draco leaned his head against hers and smiled. "Just tired is all… What's Harry doing here, by the way?"
"I honestly haven't the faintest clue. All of a sudden he was knocking on my door asking to come in and next…"
"And next? Next what?" Draco prodded on. There was something Hermione wasn't telling him, he knew. The way her tone hitched ever so slightly and how her grip about his torso tightened almost imperceptibly. Almost.
"Next thing I know… we're talking. Like it was before."
Draco clenched his jaw. "And this is a good thing?"
"It's a very good thing," Hermione said emphatically.
He could feel her smile and Draco couldn't help but feel just a tad bit jealous. He knew that he shouldn't, though, for Harry and Hermione's friendship had no bearing on his relationship with Hermione. But he couldn't erase the fact that Harry knew more about Hermione than he could ever dream of knowing. The tiny details of the young Hermione that he always used to torment were lost to him and the knowledge of such earned Draco a deep regret.
"I'm glad then," he whispered softly. "Aren't you tired of standing?"
Hermione shook her head. "I've been sitting for more than an hour. I can hardly feel my bum." She chuckled lightly, a rich sound that echoed in the room. "Anyway, Harry and I were talking and he brought up this ridiculous thing—have you ever watched If Lucy Fell? Ah, never mind. Stupid question. So we were talking about how our love lives, or truthfully, how we lack love lives and he said to me… he said, 'Hey, Hermione, if we find ourselves still alone and at the brink of suicide when we turn thirty, how about we get married?'"
Draco placed his hand on top of Hermione's hands and squeezed them. "You're joking, right? Or at least, he's joking, because that's something you don't joke about," Draco said, fairly contradicting himself at every turn.
"I don't know," she replied with a shrug. "The thought is awfully comforting, though, don't you think? To know that when things go wrong, someone will always want you."
Draco stared at the pretty mural on the kitchen wall. It was an imitation of The Touching Hands by Michelangelo.
"Comforting," he echoed tonelessly.
"I'm not disturbing anything, am I?"
Draco and Hermione turned to see Harry standing idly by the doorway. He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times, reminiscent of a nervous man waiting while his wife was delivering their first born child.
Hermione withdrew from her embrace around and Draco felt a vast emptiness enter him. If Harry was an agitated father-to-be, Draco was currently feeling like a fish being gutted.
"Well, I need to go now," Harry said, a slight smile on his tired face. "Have to be at work early tomorrow."
Hermione sighed and walked towards the black-haired man and gave him a tight hug before lending him a few parting words. "If you work yourself any harder, Potter, I'm going to skewer you and feed you to a pack of wild… whatever Hagrid has kept in the stables of Hogwarts nowadays."
Who would have thought that one day Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would share a laugh? Certainly neither one of them, but Hermione smiled at the intimate atmosphere that had fallen upon them suddenly.
"Hermione Granger? Telling me to take it easy?" Harry said in mock surprise. "I never thought I would see the day…"
Hermione lovingly slapped Harry's arm, turned him on his heel and pushed him bodily into the living room.
"Owl me," Hermione called out to him before he vanished in a puff of green smoke via her fireplace.
Smiling she turned to Draco, who had taken Harry's previous place by the doorway. "Going home?"
She didn't have to ask. They both knew that he wasn't going home.
"Don't tell me. They're having another bachelor party."
Draco grimaced at the amusement in Hermione's voice. "It isn't funny. As much as the sound of naked women prancing about in my living may sound appealing… The thought of having to pay them to do so and the fact that they've probably 'been around the street' some, diminishes that appeal."
Hermione leaned up on her toes and gave him a tight hug. "Poor, ickle Draco! Being felt up by naked women! For shame!" Ignoring Draco's glare, she took him firmly by the hand and led him towards the hall that led to the bedrooms.
They came up to the guest room. And they went past the guest room.
"Er… Hermione?"
Her hand was already on the doorknob of her bedroom when Draco decided to stop and make Hermione face him. "Is there something wrong?" He brought his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face upwards.
It took a moment to absorb the tears in her eyes and Draco felt a flood of possessiveness overcome him.
"I don't want to be alone tonight," she whispered, her hands clutching his upper arms tightly. "This morning, I was reading the newspaper. There was this woman and she was found dead in her flat. She'd been dead for a whole bloody week! A whole week, Draco… And I couldn't help but think…"
Since the day they had been reacquainted, Draco had yet to see Hermione cry. And now that he was, he didn't quite know what to do. But he understood her fear. He knew of her nightmares, but they had always seemed fantastical somehow. However, this piece of news made her fears a possibility.
With a little less resolve than he would have liked, Draco opened the door to Hermione's bedroom, the scent of lavender greeting him. He bent down and swept the sobbing woman into his arms. Carefully, he carried her towards her lovely, antique canopy bed.
Of course it had to be upholstered in scarlet. Draco would have laughed at that little fact had his arms not been soaking wet from tears.
"Don't go, Draco!" Hermione cried out the moment he laid her down on her bed.
Draco smiled at her and sat down on the bed beside her, kicking off his shoes. "Scoot over, Granger," he ordered her. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."
He reclined beside Hermione's prone body and hauled her up against him. "Stop crying, Hermione, unless you want us to float out of her in a flood of your tears." Draco grinned when he felt her shudder slightly before finally calming down.
"I love you."
Draco sighed and closed his eyes. "Likewise."
~~
The one good thing about living in Slytherin? I forget.
I was a nasty kid back in Hogwarts. Possibly the nastiest, I suppose, and I take some perverse pride in that. (Hey, once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin.) But it was tiring.
No one understood that when you're in Slytherin, you must be strong. The weak will never succeed. That nastiness, that viciousness and cruelty that I had often exhibited? I always exhibited. It wasn't just for show. It was a way of life. The Slytherins would eat their own for breakfast if there were nothing left to consume. And if I had, for even just a moment, let my guard down, I would have ended up with a knife on my back.
As my father did.
Ah, there we go…The one good thing about living in Slytherin: Lots of green décor.
Author's Notes:
Gah. I'm being hounded by more Draco/Hermione plot bunnies… of which I've decided to entertain one. However, I won't be able to update it as often as I do this story, if I do decide to upload it here. It will be a Seventh Year-Post-Hogwarts fic. I even have a cutesy title to go with it ^__~
This Chapter: I know. . Draco having sex with some unknown. Funny thing about that, actually. I couldn't think of a name to give that someone and I decided to leave her nameless. And then I proceeded to turn it into a joke. Hee ^__^ I have no life.
Now, about that sex scene. It's mild, I know. But I didn't want such an overwhelming scene and I needed it short enough to not drag on the punch line.
Harry Potter. Now, see, I never told you that Harry won't tamper with Draco and Hermione's relationship. Not overly much, but he'll provide as some sort of catalyst. (Incidentally, Catalyst is what I'm planning to call Draco's company). This will never turn into Harry/Hermione. Ever. And certainly no Harry/Draco either.
Draco and Hermione. No, nothing happens (smutty-happens) in Hermione's room. Gah. I want to tear my hair out. That scene in the kitchen would have been perfect to just have them kiss and make love on the kitchen floor. But no… must restrain self!
Next Chapter: Christmas! Mistletoe! Possibly eggnog. Heavily spiked eggnog. Ooh la la!
Humour me: Just had a thought. If you want to see any other objects incorporated into the next chapter, include them into your review. For example: a violet kite, a torn contraceptive. Hee ^__^ I'll try my best to include them all, but I'm not making any promises. Just objects, though, and no people. So I don't want to see something like… waitress!Pansy or something. Although, that might provide laughs, now that I think about it ^__~
THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS ^___^ REVIEW SOME MORE! NOT THAT I THINK MY USE OF ALL CAPS WILL PERSUADE YOU INTO DOING SO, BUT HEY… WORTH A TRY.