Chapter 14: To Deny Her Newfound Desires
By Callisto Callispi
Disclaimers: Please. I can only wish.
Author's Note: Gah! I'm sorry for the late update. It wasn't due to my lack of inspiration; I had plenty of that. But you can't believe how much homework I have from school. It's ridiculous: I am taking six classes this term, and I end up with an hour and half worth of homework time for each class! X_x
By the way, the Red Widow is not in this chapters...or a few more chapters, despite my earlier promise. SORRRRRY!
* ... * thoughts
### change in view point of the same scene
Since we've seen each other, a game goes on.
Secretly I move, and you respond.
You're winning, you think it's funny.
"Poem 1245" by Rumi
"Come on, you lot! This is a need for celebration! Take out the scotch!"
"You drank it all, Seamus, you git. McGonagall confiscated the rest," Ron said irritably.
"What? What is this? No bursting champagne? What a gyp!" someone in the back cried.
"Ah, shut your hole. You're too young anyway." Ron turned towards Hermione and Harry, muttering, "First years. Get more annoying by the year."
Harry laughed richly. Hermione smiled broadly next to him, but inside, she was quivering with worry. Despite his outer appearances, Harry had not recovered...at all. Madame Pomfrey said that he was fine, but he must have put on a damned good act.
After Hermione picked up Harry from the infirmary, they had been walking down the hallway together to get to the Gryffindor house. Ron couldn't come because he was acting as the stand-in captain for Harry.
Then, all of a sudden, right after just telling Hermione a joke, he had doubled over.
He wheezed, as if he couldn't breathe. She had ran to help him, and she rubbed his back as Harry started to cough violently, almost spasmodically, as if someone had shoved a hook down his throat.
Blood spurted from his mouth onto the stone floor. She remembered paling immediately, begging that he return to the infirmary.
But he faced her, and the expression that he had on his face frightened her. His once-warm green eyes were almost black. Perhaps it was because of the paleness of his cheeks...she didn't know. But she knew that she would never forget the look in those eyes...it was as if she stared into the eyes of a demon.
"No!" he spat, his voice wheezy and airy. "You can't make me. I'll kill anyone who dares to touch me, especially that fool of a nurse."
Hermione almost fainted when she heard this. Her throat felt so dry. His eyes...they were so black.
Just then, as quickly as he began coughing, the color rushed back into his face. As soon as they moved into the light of the candle-flame, his eyes began to lighten into the green hue that she loved.
Harry blinked rapidly, as if waking up from a coma, and shook his head slightly. "I mean, I'm sorry, Hermione...it's just that I hated being up there...you know? I hate being locked up. I didn't...mean what...I said."
"Of...of course. I was just worried about you...Harry." She was very reluctant to take a step towards him.
She now stared at his laughing face, her eyes slightly narrowed. Harry was not the Harry from before. He was not well but rather worse. The poison had not worn away, despite all of Madame Pomfrey's care, despite all of Snape's potions.
"Oy, Hermione!"
Hermione snapped out of her trance and faced Ron who tossed out bottles of smuggled butterbear into the hands of eager Gryffindors. He turned towards her and tossed her a bottle. "Come and join us."
Hermione nodded and took a sip of the butterbear.
****
Eight o' clock came all too quickly. All of the seventh years who were taking Potions were huddled together near the edge of the Forbidden Forest in the chilling winter wind. Hermione distanced herself from Ron. She still remembered his attempt to ask her to the Yule Ball, and she felt rather abashed for her rejection.
"Snape's nuts to call us here this late," said Gregory Hawking, walking towards her.
"Yeah, well, he's always been off his rocker to begin with. So how did that tour of yours go? With those people from Oxford?"
Gregory shrugged. "Polite enough blokes. I think that Wellington chap's taken a fancy to you. He kept asking me who you were and which house you were in."
Hermione laughed. It sounded bitter from shivering.
"It's strange, you know? I mean Dumbledore letting outsiders in after the Triwizard incident. He did keep isolating Hogwarts from the rest of the world, thereafter. Even that Hopkins professor kept telling Wellington and me how glad he was of Dumbledore's sudden acceptation and how unexpected it was. I wonder what that old coot is up to."
Before Hermione could reply, Gregory quickly shushed her. "Look. There's Snape!"
Indeed did Snape approach them, donned in his usual black robes. He first addressed the class, ordered them to get with their partners, and led them towards a large patch of land near Hagrid's hut. Then, he told them to pick their ingredients.
Hermione hated this task more than anything. Pansy approached her, icy hatred colder than usual glimmering in her eyes. In the beginning, Hermione paid no heed to her obvious dislike, but a few minutes later, Pansy swung her basket, squarely hitting Hermione in the back of her head.
"What is your problem?" Hermione demanded angrily.
"Stupid bitch," Pansy spat. "Stupid mudblood bitch."
Hermione was taken aback by this. No one had ever called her a bitch before. Mudblood she could stand. Bitch, she could not. In an instant, Hermione threw her basket down onto the frozen ground.
"You disgusting piece of lard! How dare you! How dare you say that to me!" Hermione wanted to rattle off every demeaning quality of Pansy, such as her nightly habits with the boys and her desperate obsession with Draco, but she kept her tongue still for the sake of being civilized.
"Stupid slut. Siren-whore. You did something to Draco," she hissed. "You cast some sort of a spell on him. You fed him a potion. You are blackmailing him somehow."
"WHAT!" she shrieked, catching the glances of a few nearby Hufflepuffs.
"Don't deny it! Why else would he prefer you over me?"
Hermione's fists trembled. Her fingers itched to draw out her wand. "You're sick! God, you just—you're so stupid, so sick! You think that I somehow jinxed Malfoy to have him attracted to me?" She laughed hollowly. "My god, you are stupider than I thought! Have you no sense at all? I have no intention of being with him. I have no intention of taking him away from you, not that you really had him to start with. God! Gross! Sick! I can't believe what your perverted mind will come up with next and—"
Hermione ducked as soon as she saw Pansy's hand shoot out for her hair. Just as she was about to scream at her sod off, Snape slowly glided behind Hermione.
"Is there a problem here, ladies?" he asked smoothly from behind Hermione.
Quickly, her anger evaporated, replaced by a dull thud of frustration. Her fingers closed into fists.
"She was about to assault me, professor," Pansy struggled out, also attempting to quell her anger.
Professor Snape stared down at Hermione's shaking fists, quirked an eyebrow, and glared at both of the girls. "Five points from Gryffindor," he replied, turning around. "Though I highly doubt that Miss Granger would dare to strike another during one of my lessons. Control that temper, both of you, or I shall be forced to take more drastic measures."
Hermione grit her teeth and, with quivering hands, picked up the basket that she had thrown down. Pansy, apparently a bit stunned over both of their outbursts, maintained her explosive outrage within herself and merely then regarded Hermione with cold fury, and the two refused to talk to each other. Even when they handed the baskets to Professor Snape, they did it separately, at different times.
Hermione handed hers in first. As soon as she began to sign herself out of the night's lessons, Pansy handed her basket to Snape. Hermione left for the castle as soon as Pansy approached the sign-out sheet. From behind her, she heard Pansy's voice address Draco. She could tell that the two were arguing over something very passionately, but she did not even spare one glance back. Her heart throbbed and so burned with fury that she could hardly manage to say anything without sputtering.
*Stupid, sick pig,* she thought hatefully when Pansy's face came to mind.
Hermione ran into her Head Girl room, thankful that it was for her own use. She didn't think that she could stand another round of senseless girl-talks with Parvati and Lavender. She collapsed on the cushioned window ledge and dully stared out at the small figures droning about the edge of the Forbidden Forest—the people left who had yet to pick enough fluxweed to satisfy the amount required.
She watched Draco with narrowed eyes. He jauntily walked about, speaking with every girl remaining. From her vantage point, she could see that they were clearly enjoying his attention. They giggled, talked back, and even resorted to flipping their hair.
Hermione scowled in disgust. What did they see in him? Come to think of it, what did she see in him?
Hermione turned away from the window then went to bed. She had been fortunate enough to find the time since after class and before the midnight romp to finish all of her homework. All she wanted to do was to sleep.
****
The weekend arrived on swift wings. Fortunately, Filch called in sick on Friday so Draco and she did not have to attend detention. They were, however, required to extend their sentence a day.
Hermione, of course, ran right up to the library after school, her arms loaded with texts and with two backpacks slung over her shoulder. Ginny and some of the other girls in the sixth form were gossiping over Ginny's date to the Yule Ball—one of the scholars from the Oxford University of Magic. Giggles choked the silence of the Gryffindor commons, nearly driving her up the wall, and she hated the stuffiness of her own room.
As soon as Hermione entered the library, she regretted ever taking ten extra minutes to get up here. The library was full of men, of scholars, who lugged around thick texts. Some stopped for a moment to stare at the new arrival but then turned back to their work. This would be very distracting.
"Hermione!" Lavender called for her from one of the working cubicles.
Immediately, the librarian shushed her. Hermione reluctantly walked towards Lavender, aware of how much work she had to do.
"I never knew that the library could be so fun," giggled Lavender as soon as Hermione sat down. Parvati, who sat next to her, nudged Hermione.
"You can't believe how many offers we've gotten."
"Offers for what?" asked Hermione, opening her textbook.
"To go to the Yule Ball!" Lavender squealed quietly. "But I already have an escort. Why are you reading?"
Hermione looked up, her finger on the page. "I have a lot of work..."
"Oh, work does not matter now! The Yule Ball does!" Parvati insisted fervently. "Look around you! This is the best year of our lives! We have a chance to go with men from a university." She smiled a smug smile. "How many girls can boast that she went to the Yule Ball with a twenty-something-year-old?"
Hermione stared at her with irritation before turning back to her book.
"Really, Hermione, who are you going with? Don't tell me that you and Draco are an item!"
Hermione looked up again, watching Lavender and Parvati share a secret smile. No doubt Parvati had shared her admiration for Draco with her best friend. "Me? With that conniving idiot? Don't be ridiculous."
"Well, who are you going with? After all, the Head Girl just has to have an escort."
Hermione looked back down at her book but did not read the pages. She truly hadn't thought about a date. She had been so preoccupied lately, with her work, detentions, and especially her strangled relationship with Draco.
"I haven't really thought about it," she admitted. "I suppose I'll go with Gregory...I mean, the Heads have traditionally gone together in the past years."
Lavender suddenly turned red.
"What?" Hermione asked in an accusatory way.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Lavender, fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse. She nervously combed her fingers through her shiny blond hair. "Gregory...well, he's been fancying me ever since school began...and he asked me."
"Oh," said Hermione, suddenly deflated.
"Well, it wasn't my fault!" Lavender cried passionately, earning a death glare from Madame Pince. "The poor bloke was almost wetting himself when he asked me. I couldn't turn him down," she continued in a whisper.
Somehow, the ever-cool Gregory Hawking almost wetting himself over a girl seemed highly unlikely, but Hermione did not question her friend's response. "Well, it's all right..."
"What about Harry? Or Ron?" Parvati interjected, trying to be helpful.
"No. Harry's going with someone from Ravenclaw. Ron..." She trailed off. "I can't believe this. I'm discussing dates. Never mind. I'll just go alone. I mean, it can't be all that bad."
Hermione regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Parvati and Lavender stared at her with unspoken horror, as if she had grown another nose.
"Well," Parvati struggled to say, recovering from the shock of Hermione's words, "you've chosen a good year to be without an escort from Hogwarts. Because look around you!"
Hermione did. She spotted some studious scholars. She turned back to Parvati and Lavender, shrugging. "So what?"
The two girls rolled their eyes. "Snag one of them. They much more better-looking. Plus, if things do get steamy between you two, you'll be sure as hell that they've had their experience." They raised their eyebrows suggestively. Hermione grew more agitated.
"Do you truly think that I would have a shag with someone right after I—"
Just then, Parvati and Lavender shushed her, for two scholars walked up to their table. Hermione recognized on of them as being the student representative of this whole program: Thomas Wellington.
"Miss Granger, is it not?" he asked with a bright, winning smile that sharply reminded Hermione of Gilderoy Lockheart. However, Wellington was rather more strikingly handsome than the fraudulent professor.
Hermione smiled politely. "Mister Wellington. I hope you are enjoying your stay here." God. She couldn't believe how much of a hotel clerk she sounded like.
"I am, thank you." He nodded towards Parvati and Lavender who were eyeing Hermione slyly. "Ladies." Then, he turned back to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I have a wager with my colleague here. We seem to be at a disagreement on a certain rune. I was hoping that you would be able to decipher which one of us is correct."
Hermione frowned slightly. "Oh, I am not as knowledgeable in runes..."
"Professor Dumbledore highly recommended you."
"Oh, do go on and help the poor man, Hermione," Lavender insisted.
"Yes. You mustn't be greedy with knowledge," Parvati added happily.
Hermione glared at the two girl but stood up, smiling. "Of course."
The Wellington man presented her with a heavy, dusty old text that seemed not to have been used in ages. He pointed out a symbol shaped like a crescent with a few dots drawn in precariously around it.
"We think it might represent fertility, seeing as how it clearly depicts the moon above these two dots," a scholar next to her remarked eagerly.
"That's absurd. Why would something like this suddenly transition from the hill to fertility?" countered Thomas from her other side.
Hermione peered closely at the text, feeling a slight flush run up her neck. She wondered what she was doing here between two scholars of the prominent Oxford University of Magic.
"I...er..." she started hesitantly.
The two scholars beside her ceased their bickering immediately and turned their heads toward Hermione. She shrugged helplessly. "I'm truly not sure on this. It might represent what you two have said, but my guess is that it represents the crossroads... Perhaps a roadway to hell and sin, and the other to heaven and goodness. See how the dots are arranged...?"
They stared at her for a few seconds then the zealous scholar stared back at the text. He scribbled something furiously in his notebook with a bright grin on his face.
Hermione peered at him anxiously. "Was I right?"
Wellington stared at her with newfound admiration. "Miss Granger, you have done us a world of good."
She blushed.
"Please, I wish to speak with you," he said, drawing Hermione away from the other scholars by her arm. She followed hesitantly, aware of the work she had to do and aware of his warm hand on her skin.
When they were away from the Ancient Runes area, Wellington grinned almost shyly at her. "I've been wondering, Miss Granger, if it would please you to be my partner for the Yule Ball. If you don't already have an escort, of course."
Hermione blinked, feeling a sudden shyness that she had never felt before. Her mouth felt dry. This amazingly handsome man had just asked her to be his partner. What would she say? What would she say? What if he was only joking with her? Oh, the humiliation...but...was he being serious?
"I haven't been to these functions for years, I do believe that we would have a terribly good time." He flashed her another winning smile that made her kneecaps shake. "So what do you say? Will you allow me to escort you?"
"Y-yes. That would be nice," she managed to say. Her heart throbbed inside of her chest.
"I'm glad, Miss Granger. Or...may I call you Hermione?"
Hermione nodded with a small smile. "O-of course."
"Then please call me Thomas. I shall be looking forward to this, Hermione. I do hope that we get to see each other...soon?" Then, after flashing her another brilliant smile, he left her alone in the book stacks. Hermione wanted to jump with joy.
****
Hermione's Saturday had generally been restful. The weather had gotten more chilly, and snow was now falling in massive amounts. She sat on the ledge of her window, sipping some hot chocolate, a historical novel that her mother sent to her in her other hand.
It was six o'clock, time for dinner, but Hermione was only slightly hungry. She would have dragged her arse to the dining hall anyway except for two reasons: Thomas and Draco.
She still felt a bit queasy talking to Thomas. After all, he was this gorgeous twenty-something year old, and here she was: a plain brown field mouse who just happened to be Head Girl. She direly hoped that she would get over this shyness so she could act cool and suave in front of Thomas Wellington instead of tripping over her feet. Oh, but he seemed too nice to laugh at her if she ever did that. That fact comforted her heart a bit.
But she felt as if she would sock Draco right in the nose if she saw him. Some Gryffindor fifth year had come knocking on her door just last night at two in the morning, crying her eyes out. It seemed that a certain Slytherin and she had a shag, and she found out a little too late that he had been merely using her for a little midnight treat.
Hermione clenched the cup in anger. She thought that she would drown in her bed with the rate of flow of that girl's tears, but what angered her more was Draco's behavior. Even though the girl refused to tell her who had her (and Hermione couldn't demand the information out of her, seeing as how she was the peer that younger students with life troubles went to), she told him that he was a seventh year student. Of course Hermione automatically figure out that it Draco. Who had a more rapacious attitude?
Hermione sipped the rest of her hot chocolate and went up to the dining hall, hoping to find Draco. After all, she couldn't neglect her duties to her peers just because of some silly little kiss.
However, just as she emerged into the dining hall, Hermione immediately wished that she had taken care to dress herself better and at least wore a skirt instead of the casual jeans and sweater, for Thomas had just caught her eye.
She managed a quick smile that she hoped would keep him away, just until she could confront Draco. However, he did not get the hint and motioned her over to the table. She suppressed a sigh of exasperation and strode over, aware of the momentary glances of nearby scholars.
"At last, we meet again," said Thomas with a little laugh, moving over on the bench. Hermione sat down, noting anxiously that Ron wasn't here...yet.
"How is your research coming along?" Hermione asked.
Thomas sighed. "Not well," he grumped. "Sometimes, I wonder why I even took this course."
Hermione, however, did not answer. She spotted Draco Malfoy holding a glass of water heading towards the table where she and Thomas sat. To her surprise, Thomas stood up and smiled, as if he knew Draco.
"Draco. Took you long enough. Come, sit. Hermione, I believe you know him."
"Wait..." Hermione started, feeling utterly lost under Draco's penetrating gaze. "You two know each other?"
"The Wellingtons have always been close to our family, Granger," Draco sneered, sitting across from Hermione and taking a sip of water. She glared furiously at him.
"Since when?" she snarled.
"Since ages ago. I believe Christopher Wellington attended the last big Malfoy bash. My father and his are good business partners. Of course, I'm just assuming that this goes right over your head, you being so...common and all." Draco smirked at her.
Hermione immediately stood up. If the Wellingtons were close to the Malfoys, no doubt they were death eaters as well. She bit back a moan of frustration. Why was she so attracted to death eaters? First Blaise, then Draco, then Thomas. Wait...was she attracted to Draco?
Thomas narrowed his eyes. "I take it that you two are not...friends?"
Hermione did not answer him but merely kept her glare on Draco. Draco did the same, but he had that infuriating smirk on his face.
"I...need to talk...to you," Hermione managed to sputter out to Draco.
He seemed mildly surprised.
Hermione turned to Thomas. "Sorry...it's just head girl business..."
After Thomas's bewildered nod, Hermione nearly dragged Draco out of the dining hall while he complained bitterly over her sudden aggressiveness. She found the nearest empty classroom, and as soon as she entered, she slammed the door behind them.
"If you wanted to have a shag or something, you could have just told me. My room would have sufficed," he said acidly, straightening out the wrinkles in his robe.
"Don't talk to me about shagging, Malfoy," she spat out. "I think you had enough of that last night."
Draco stared up at her, curious. "What?"
"Don't play dumb!" she exploded. "June came running to me last night, crying her eyes out! How could you, Malfoy? I didn't think that you could even break a girl's heart like that!"
He stood from the desk she leaned against and tilted his head. "June? Who is June?"
Hermione threw her hands up. "I can't believe you took her without even bothering to learn her name. That is low, Malfoy. Even for you." She began to pace angrily. Hermione didn't know why she was so flustered. In other cases, she would have coldly spoken to him instead of raving on and on like some jealous ex.
"Granger, I don't know what you are talking about."
"Yes you do. Don't play dumb!" she nearly screamed.
Draco suddenly moved from the desk to where Hermione was and stopped her from pacing with his hands forcefully holding her shoulders. "Just stop moving, damn it," he said exasperatedly, "and explain. What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
Hermione wanted to push him away. Oh, how she wanted to push him away. But she didn't. His hands...oh god, memories of that night by the library. She could almost taste his kisses, being so near him.
"I know that you...had sex with June last night, Malfoy. You don't need to lie to me. But why did you have to break her heart like that?" she bit out quietly, seethingly.
"What?" He still did not remove his hands. On the contrary, the grip his fingers provided got more firmer.
Hermione wanted to lash out at him and demand to know why he was playing dumb. It was amazing: his stubbornness to maintain his innocence. But just as Hermione was about to push him away, something clicked in her mind.
Wait. Perhaps Malfoy was not the one.
"You think that I shagged this June last night?" he demanded.
She blushed furiously and looked away. Oh. My. God. He wasn't the Slytherin!
Draco placed his finger on the bottom of her chin and tilted her face up to his. She tried to avoid his gaze, but his was too penetrating to be ignored. His eyes were the color of the coldest steel...but why did they reflect such a softness when he stared at her like that?
"Did you?" she asked weakly.
"Did I what? Have a shag with her? No!"
Hermione couldn't bring herself to respond. She looked away once more. "I'm...sorry. This has been a terrible mistake. I'm...really sorry."
He still did not remove his hands, and Hermione stood there, paralyzed, mortified beyond all imagination. Despite her own horror, she felt slight vibrations from his body. Hermione stared up at Draco and found him laughing!
At first, she wondered if anything was on her face. Then, when he wouldn't stop, Hermione demanded, "What is so funny?"
"You," Draco chuckled, attempting to sober himself. "When you are embarrassed, you have the funniest looking mug that I have ever seen."
Hermione could not bring herself to retort against that. After all, she had just openly suspected him of bedding June without any solid foundation for her implications. She did not want to seem even more spiteful than she already was. She merely glared at him, still uncomfortably aware that his hands still gripped her shoulders.
Just then, Draco stopped laughing and stared deeply into Hermione's eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Oh. God. He was doing it again: seducing her with just his look.
Reluctantly, painfully, she backed away from him, never breaking her gaze. She immediately craved the warmth of his palms. But it was treacherous to think thus.
"I haven't made love to anyone since this whole fiasco began," he said quietly, obviously referring to the "fiasco" as their detention sentence.
"Do you want me to congratulate you or something?" Hermione asked throatily.
He smirked slightly. "I haven't slept well last night."
"Why is that?"
"A brown-haired girl kept intruding in my dreams."
Hermione's throat was dry. She couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"I keep seeing her, Granger, in my mind. I keep envisioning her walking through the door to my room, hopelessly lost and searching for someone."
Hermione looked down at her hands. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest. She was so consumed by her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed that Draco stood right in front of her until his fingers grazed her cheek.
"She cries, you know. I didn't have the heart to tell her to fuck off. So, I get out of bed and ask her, 'What's wrong?'"
Draco's fingers gently lifted Hermione's chin upward to face him. His touch sent memories tingling through her mind. She remembered that night, and all of her dormant desires for him started to flame. She wanted to kiss him, and the realization did not shock her. The need to feel his soft lips upon hers overran her senses.
But Draco wouldn't kiss her. He kept talking. "And you know what she says to me? She tells me that she can't tell anyone anything. That she promised her lover that she wouldn't tell anyone. But she says it hurts so much to keep it secret because she fears for his life."
Hermione closed her eyes. Fire exploded in her chest and ran through her arms and stomach like hot oil. Lovers. Secrets. Trysts.
His fingers slid from her chin to her cheek. He stroked her skin gently. Hermione felt her legs move on their accord, towards his body. Slowly, his arms gathered around Hermione's form and enfolded her against him. His hands caressed the curve of her back and waist tenderly as if he held a figurine of glass.
She leaned her head against Draco's chest. The silk of his black cloak cooled her feverish face. She felt the muscles of his chest against her cheek. She smelled his spicy cologne. All aroused her even more that she was.
"But I want to know. I don't give a damn about her lover or her promises." His hot breath tickled her neck. "I want to know."
Hermione's fingers caressed the smallest folds of Draco's cloak. God, what was she doing?
Draco then gingerly pulled her slightly away from his body. She was almost relieved for his body felt like a hot coal that burned with a fearful passion. She feared that he would scorch her. But disappointment quickly overcame her for she wanted that heat.
She parted her lips to ask why he had just done that. But before she could get a word out, his lips covered hers, and just like that, Hermione found herself kissing Draco Malfoy again.
It was like a minor orgasm but completely different. Her tension and desire had been so built up, but instead of relieving her of her desire, he had only heightened it. Her blood pulsed rapidly through her arteries. Her body temperature was beginning to rise. Every single part of her body that he touched, whether it be her neck or arms, tingled with electricity.
Quickly, he deepened the kiss. With little difficulty did he gently and artfully pry Hermione's lips open. His tongue quickly slid in to meet with hers, and this new sensation generated a new spark of emotion and heat that would haunt Hermione when she slept alone in her cold bed.
She moaned as his tongue explored the caverns of her mouth. God, was this what it was like to truly kiss someone? He showed no boyish clumsiness, no bashfulness. The heat in her stomach felt as if it would explode. She had been told of this sensation. Parvati had told her that she felt just like this before someone had made love to her.
Were they going to make love?
Draco suckled gently on her lower lip before slowly parting from her. His usually light gray eyes were clouded so that they were almost black. "Do you know that secret?" he asked breathlessly. "Do you have a lover that I don't know about?"
Hermione, struggling to catch her breath, shook her head slightly. "Of course not," she whispered.
He covered her lips with his again. His hands began to explore the curvature of her body. They slid down from her shoulders, to her waist, pulling her closer to his hard body. His hands sent little sparks through out her body. They tingled and energized every little cell of her skin.
With a desperate moan she threw her arms around Draco's neck. She needed his touch. She needed his kiss. She needed his heat. She needed this pleasure. She hadn't realized how deprived she was...spending all of those years, trying to be the role model that everyone could look up to.
Again, Draco slowly pulled himself away from her lips but they remained within a close proximity with each other with their foreheads touching. Hermione breathed in and out raggedly, watching his fingers slowly unbutton the top of her blouse. Her eyes flickered to his dark gray ones, and she felt as if she could lose herself forever to him. Hermione's pounding emotions and desires completely blocked out her mind's protests. If they did end up having sex, she would bask herself with Draco's heat. She would rock against him if he wanted her to. She would lick his skin and run her hands down his toned chest as he thrusted in and out of her.
Just as soon as Draco moved his hand towards the last remaining button, the door suddenly slammed open.
"And so I was saying to him—"
Hermione and Draco froze. The heat that had engulfed them soon chilled and evaporated. Two first year girls from Hufflepuff stared at the two, their mouths wide open.
Luckily for Hermione, Draco recovered from their harsh interruption and quickly tossed his cloak over her to spare her from her exposed state and possibly from revealing her face. He grabbed her hand and ran out the door, sparing a charming wink for the two girls.
"Our secret, ladies?" he called before making his way completely out of the door with Hermione trailing behind him.
They dashed through the corridors, all conveniently empty, and ran into another dark classroom. As soon as Draco closed the door behind him, Hermione breathed out in sudden relief and started to button up her blouse.
That interruption came just in time, before she would have completely lost herself. Good god, what was she thinking? She had just imagined in her mind a scene of Draco and her making love! As if sharing those secret kisses weren't bad enough!
"Well, that was rather exciting," she heard Draco behind her say. Hermione did not miss the sneer in his voice. She brushed his presence away wearily.
"We can't do this," she muttered as soon as she buttoned up the last button. "We just can't. It's too... It's not right. We can't do this anymore."
"Funny. I was under the impression that you were enjoying it for a moment there. But silly me, I must be mistaken." His tone was bitingly sarcastic. "How could I ever think that the holy martyr who calls herself Hermione Granger would ever enjoy a kiss?"
Hermione turned around to face him. "Well, what do you want me to say? That we should continue this?"
Draco smirked. "I want you to say that you want me, Granger. That you want me badly."
Hermione shook her head. "No. I don't."
"I can see it in your eyes, damn it. Hell, I can taste it."
Hermione flinched at that last remark. "It was momentary, Malfoy. I—I can't do this anymore. It's not befitting for the Head Girl to—"
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Damn it, Granger. What's wrong with a little kiss? It didn't kill you, did it? You treat it like some sort of a plague."
She couldn't find a response. But how did she tell him that she absolutely melted when he kissed her? How could she tell him that she felt so warm when his hands rubbed her body? How could she tell him all of that without mutilating her pride?
Slowly, Hermione backed away from him, forgetting that the cloak that she clutched so tightly to was Draco's. She felt tears sting her eyes. God, she did not want to part from him, but what else could she do? Stay and snog shamelessly like some harlot?
"Please, Malfoy," she whispered, her voice beginning to tighten. "We can't do this anymore. It's not right."
Draco didn't answer. He merely glared coldly at her.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm sorry for...bringing you here in the first place. Just...let's keep this a secret between us, all right? It won't be...good...if this all got out..."
He snorted derisively. "As if I want the whole school to know what I did with a mudblood."
Somehow, his words did not sting her as they usually did. Instead, she felt empathy for him. He said mudblood in a whole new tone—not hate, spite, or even disdain, but with longing. Unfulfilled longing.
Hermione turned on her heel and slowly began to walk out of the classroom. She just stepped out the door when Draco's voice stopped her.
"By the way, if you want to know who deflowered your precious June, then I suggest you go ask Blaise Zabini. I'm sure he can give you all of the intimate details of his night with her."
Hermione turned back to face Draco, her eyes wide in shock. "Blaise?" she squeaked.
He smirked triumphantly and crossed his arms. "Not the saint that you thought he was, is he?"
Hermione blinked then walked out, mumbling her thanks. So. She would go talk to Blaise now. And to think that she had hoped that he was different from his peers. Hermione scowled. No. Slytherins were Slytherins: greedy, avaricious, and wanton. Just like Draco.
But damn that spoilt, platinum-haired brat. Why did she want him so badly?
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End Notes: Finally. We're getting to romance. Thought it would never come, didn't you? ^_^ But, let me tell you, these romance scenes are damn hard to write. I hope you enjoyed this one—and hopefully, I didn't screw up too badly.