Hi!
Here we go for the third chapter. There will be four and I already wrote the next one so I just have to translate it from French and post it so it will be here in a few days.
As last time, I betaread the chapter myself so I appologize for any mistakes and other stuff caused by my French side.
It will be the last "soft" chapter so for any of you who don't want to read explicit scene, you should stop at the end of this one.
For others, well, the fourth is going to be steamy.
Thanks for reading and leaving reviews and adding the story to fav and follow, it is so rewarding for me. It gives me confidence to write things in English more often.
I hope you will enjoy this little story.
Hermione had probably been staring at the perspective lines of her ceiling for several hours, counting the patterns in the mouldings. She was totally unable to fall asleep and make Draco Malfoy's face disappear from her mind. She didn't quite understand what was going on with this man, but she couldn't help but notice that he had changed a lot since she had last seen him in London several years ago.
He was no longer so arrogant, he had certainly gained in charm and cordiality, but he still had that impenetrable face whose eyes shone with mischief. As if he was able to always know a little more than the others, as if he constantly kept a hectic secret in the back of his mind. Hermione snorted as she felt a wave of chills run over her skin and turned up her heater with a flick of her wand. Through the window, she saw the snow begin to fall again in heavy flakes.
And the next morning, when she hardly emerged from her restless sleep, she could not help but smile when she saw the thick blanket of snow covering the garden. She settled in the living room, a large hot chocolate and toast of jam in her hands, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. But her mind didn't give her time to relax any longer. She inevitably plunged back into the dreams of the night which had taken an unexpected turn.
Hermione cursed herself inwardly as she saw behind her eyelids the pale, muscular body of her former classmate hovering above hers in an expression of almost bestial lust. The powerful thrusts he offered her in her imagination were enough to burn her cheeks.
She sighed and bit into her toast vigorously.
"Are you all right, darling?" Her grandmother asked gently, settling on the sofa next to her.
"Perfectly,"Hermione replied with a smile that wanted to be assured.
"What do you have planned for the next few days?"
"I don't know yet. Harry and Ginny are leaving this morning and I was thinking that maybe I will come home soon too."
"You should allow yourself a little more rest, you know. I'm sure they can live without you at the Ministry," Jane joked.
Hermione smiled tenderly.
"I have no doubt about it."
No, she wasn't sure if she was going to stay all week or if she was coming home earlier than planned. She was torn between her deep desire to know what was going on at her job and the relief of finding some peace in the calm of this house.
Hermione joined Harry and Ginny on the station platform. She had always enjoyed these moments of goodbye without sadness. And she liked the stations where she could see all kinds of people greeting each other, meeting each other.
"Will you stop by the house when you get back to London?" Harry offered, hugging his best friend.
"Of course," Hermione smiled, kissing his cheeks.
She watched them get on the train, bumping into the passengers blocking the hallway and then falling heavily onto their seats. With a warm wave of her hand, she accompanied their departure and then left the station.
A contented sigh escaped her mouth and Hermione briefly closed her eyes, looking up into the soft sun warming her cheeks. It was a wonderful day. She turned her head to the other side of the street and saw at the end the huge storefront of the spa where the silhouette of a woman in a bath was outlined. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. How to be sure to attract any customers? Show a woman with a slender and sculpted body enjoying the thermal baths. Men will be charmed by her perfect physique, women will envy her and want the same care.
She wasn't even surprised to find Draco Malfoy in this kind of establishment. He who seemed so demanding on his own physique and on the physique of others. Hermione left, in the opposite direction of the establishment, to reach the city centre and try to extract from her mind the tall blond who had suddenly entered there.
The small town had put on its lights and decorations in the night at the same time as it had switched to the month of December and Hermione let herself drift through the small shopping streets until crossing the road of a book store she knew already by heart. She strolled around the shelves for a long time and came out with a bag full of new books that she could devour before leaving. And as she was about to join the house, she passed a shop that caught her attention.
It was not really her habit to buy new clothes, but with the holidays coming, she allowed herself the madness of looking for a dress for the occasion. She finally hesitated between two and decided to take a walk in the changing rooms. It was painful and long to remove all the layers of clothes she had put on that morning to protect herself from the cold. And luckily the room was heated, because she found herself in her underwear in front of the mirror and shivering slightly.
Hermione unhooked the first dress from the belt and put it on. Once the zipper was pulled up along her back, she watched herself for a few seconds, turning from side to side. It was not bad, quite good even. She liked lace sleeves, but even if the black colour made her look sexy, it wasn't very cheerful.
Undressing again, the witch paused a little and looked at her reflection with a slight frown. Did she just call herself sexy? Was she? She planted herself frankly in front of the mirror and put her hands on her hips, detailing herself scrupulously. She couldn't really remember the last time she was told she was sexy. Nor any other compliment on her physique, if it wasn't perhaps Ginny who still had a word for her best friend. But it was not the same, it was precisely her best friend.
Hermione took a quick mental tour of the men in her life and realized that there were not many people except Ron and Harry, the other Weasley brothers, and a few co-workers she could consider close acquaintance. Nothing beyond friendship for what seemed ages. And suddenly, the young woman's eyebrows furrowed sharply when a peculiar face took hold of her mind.
No, Draco Malfoy had nothing to do in the midst of these reflections on his romantic and physical relationships. But yet, it was no longer his simple face that paraded through her head, but also his body, naked and contracted, of which she had dreamed that very night. Hermione found herself wondering if he was the type to compliment the women who shared his bed and life. She found herself wondering if he could find her sexy and tell her so. She shook her head, trying to come back to her senses. Yes, Draco Malfoy was surely the type of man to cover with sweet words the women he wanted to have in his bed, for a purely self-serving purpose and devoid of sincerity and feelings.
On this harsh judgement, she put on the second dress which clearly took over the first. Longer and more sober, it opened on the shoulders with a knot in the back. And the plum fabric was more festive. She returned to her grandparents with her purchases and spent the afternoon digesting their excellent meal while reading on a bench in the garden, bundled up in a plaid. Hermione finished reading in the living room as she began to no longer feel her feet in the snow. The night had slowly fell. As the sun disappeared, the snow began to fall again.
Hermione was really enjoying the moment. The warmth of the fireplace warmed her cheeks, the plot of the novel she devoured was enthralling and the softness of the plaid on her was worth all the hugs in the world. Then the doorbell rang in the silence of the living room and as the brunette looked towards the entrance, she heard her grandmother scampering from the kitchen.
Hermione returned her attention to her book as the echoes of Jane's voice barely reached her, but it didn't last.
"Hermione, darling!" She heard the louder call. "It's for you."
The witch frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone. She reluctantly got rid of her plaid and even before she reached the entrance, she understood who it was when she saw the half-surprised, half-bewitched look her grandmother gave her when she met her in the hall. What was he doing there, by Merlin?
"Malfoy," she greeted, coming to the door.
She shivered as the cold outside air rushed into the house. It hadn't stopped snowing and Draco's hair was full of snow, making it even whiter than it already was.
"Granger," he replied politely with a small smile.
The silence that followed was almost theatrical. One thought of what he had seen two days earlier and which continued to haunt him, the other thought of what she had dreamed of last night and which was there, palpable before her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked. "How did you know where I was?"
"I asked the spa salesperson who seemed quite knowledgeable about the Grangers of this town and their exceptional source."
Hermione tensed as she heard him mention the source, still feverish as she recalled her afternoon of nudity. Draco noticed and was polite enough not to show anything. He hadn't answered her first question consciously, because he didn't really know what he had come here to do. He had just followed his legs out of tonight's seminar and maybe his curiosity as well. He didn't hide himself and looked at the witch in front of him, letting his gaze fall on her face. She blushed slightly and as she was about to serve him a certainly scathing remark to fire him, her grandfather appeared behind her.
"Well, Hermione, let him in!" He exclaimed. "You will end up frozen and so will we with this door open."
Hermione laid back her eyes exaggeratedly open on Draco, both taken aback and embarrassed. She really wanted to send him back to where he came from. But she couldn't do it anymore. She sighed loudly and stood against the wall, waving one hand for the man to come into the house.
"Come on, Granger," Draco whispered, coming in, shaking his hair with one hand to make snow fall, "it won't be so bad."
He stopped very close to her and put his hand on hers, which held the handle. Hermione withdrew her hand sharply and Draco cleverly closed the door without taking his eyes off her. He brought his face closer to hers, the diffused heat of which he could almost perceive.
"I won't stay long," he whispered.
Hermione imperceptibly nodded in an almost mechanical gesture and slipped against the wall to extricate herself from his paralysing physical hold. She breathed out all the air trapped in her lungs as she heard Draco follow her and walked back to the living room where her grandparents were chatting.
"Good evening," Draco greeted politely, tilting his head slightly.
"Draco Malfoy," Hermione introduced. "Jane and Philip."
The three strangers shook hands. Draco was surprised at the lack of reaction from the two septuagenarians to the announcement of his name. But he realized that the Muggle world was ignoring his past and a strange feeling of contentment washed over him. It was really nice not to be stared at and he quite enjoyed of the moment.
"Let me take that," Jane offered, waving her arms so that he took off his coat and gave it to her.
Draco did so, amused by her manners and the wary look Hermione kept giving him.
"Have you known our granddaughter for a long time?" Philip asked, urging him to sit on the sofa.
"We were at school together," Draco replied.
"Oh!" Jane exclaimed. "Are you a wizard?"
She had said that last word almost in a whisper as if it were a secret. Which was the case for the rest of the world, but not in this house, and had the effect of rolling Hermione's eyes to the sky.
"Yes, ma'am," Draco agreed.
Hermione had remained standing by the fireplace and was watching Draco out of the corner of her eye. He had his aristocratic manners, the way he sat, the calculated movements he made with his hands when he spoke, his politeness and sobriety. She felt like she had a man she didn't know in front of her eyes.
"What if I went get us a drink?"
And Philip rose from his armchair with a vow to disappear into the kitchen. Jane followed him and the two wizards found themselves alone in the living room.
"Why did you come?" Hermione asked again.
Draco turned his head to her, fixing his gaze on hers.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I wanted to see you, I guess."
Hermione was surprised at his answer and Draco let out a small laugh.
"Improbable, yes," he joked. "I know."
Hermione smiled back, blushing.
"Why would you want to see me?" She asked, curious and confused.
Draco was about to answer, but Jane and Philip came back, leaving this intriguing conversation hanging. As always, Hermione's grandmother had used the unexpected arrival of a guest to spoil to bring out all of the petits fours that she kept in case of a visit and her grandfather all of the bottles he had left in the cupboards. The coffee table had disappeared under the glasses and the ramekins and when Jane and Philip settled down on the two armchairs, Hermione realized that she was going to have to sit on the couch next to the Slytherin.
"Tell me, Draco, what do you cant to drink?"
And it was gone for nearly an hour and a half of discussion. Hermione sometimes apologized with a glance at the discontinuous stream of questions her grandparents were pouring out on Draco who always found something to answer kindly. The young woman was not however unaware of the small game which Draco was having fun. Whenever he could, he brushed her fingers as he drew from the same bowl as her or dragged his hand across the couch between their legs to give casual caresses to the edge of her thigh.
Finally, after yet another drink and yet another question, Draco stood up and thanked his hosts for their hospitality.
"You don't want to stay and eat?" Jane asked like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Hermione's friends are always welcome here."
Hermione and Draco exchanged a hot look, reluctant to laugh out loud. But what was it really? Draco had just spent over an hour here, talking about himself and learning more about the young woman. If they couldn't think of each other as friends, they were no longer the terrible enemies of Hogwarts.
"Thank you, but I have to join colleagues."
"Another time then. Do not hesitate to come by before leaving."
Draco smiled, thanking the couple once again and turned towards the exit following Hermione. She unhooked his coat in the hall and handed it to him.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "My grandparents are talkers."
"I'm sorry," Draco retorted. "I told you that I would leave quickly, it is a failure."
Hermione shrugged.
"It's not that bad," she whispered with a shy smile.
In response, it was his eternal smirk that Draco sported. He put on his coat and as she was about to open the door Hermione stopped.
"Why did you want to see me?" She asked again.
Draco turned completely to her and she felt like he was going to jump on her anytime soon. His gaze had changed, completely, and she felt very small under the intensity of his grey eyes which were now full of desire. It was pure desire.
"Because I've been thinking about you all day for two days and I'd rather see you in person than keep imagining you in my mind."
Hermione gasped for a moment as the whispered words echoed in her head. She stammered a few words, but nothing intelligible came out of her mouth.
"I would give a lot to never have stumble upon this spring," Draco said in a hoarse whisper as he moved closer to her. "But it's done. And that drives me crazy. You drive me crazy."
"But…" Hermione hesitated as she found herself against the wall again. "You promised not to have seen anything."
Draco smirked and leaned closer, resting a hand against the wall next to the young woman's head.
"I had my fingers crossed," he whispered, teasing.
Their faces were inches apart and Hermione felt her heart race in her chest as the heat swept over her completely. She put her hands on Draco's chest, her eyes moving from his dark pupils to his mouth. And then their noses brushed against each other and in a second, their lips met in a feverish and electrifying kiss. It only lasted a few seconds as Draco pulled back abruptly, running a hand over his face as if coming out of a stray dream. He looked up at Hermione, still against the wall, her cheeks flushed and her gaze fixed on him.
He silenced all his desire to pounce on her again and opened the door before leaving without a word. It was the cold coming in from outside or the movements in front of her eyes that brought Hermione out of her lethargy and she rushed after him, her socks digging into the snow.
"Malfoy!" She called as she descended, almost running, onto the road.
He was only a few feet away and stopped before turning around.
"I don't understand," she hesitated. "We normally hate each other."
Draco chuckled wryly and shrugged before leaving.
"But explain to me!" Hermione cried.
"How do you want me to know? It's you, the smartest witch of our generation. You'll understand before I do."
Hermione watched him walk away with a feeling of not enough in her mouth.
"Are we going to see each other again?" She cried into the night for him to hear.
She saw him stop and turn around. He had his smirk on his lips, full of mischief and mystery.
"Maybe," she heard him say. "Maybe I can get lost in the forest a second time, say, tomorrow afternoon."
Heart pounding, Hermione caught a thin smile on her lips as she watched Draco disappear. Her feet drowned in the snow were growing numb and frozen, but her whole body was hot as the excitement of their kiss struggled to decrease.