Draco

Room of Requirement / Hogwarts

January 7th 1996

Draco awoke to the gentle movement of soft skin and moving limbs. The thing in his arms squirmed a bit more, then quietly said his name. That was when he remembered where he was, and who he was with.

His eyes flickered open, stirring him from one of the most restful nights of sleep had in recent memory, despite the fact they were on a musty old couch with zero support.

"Hmmm," he finally mumbled in response.

His face rested softly against her hair, which he had a whole new appreciation for. The feel of it was feather soft and carried her scent in its most concentrated form. Awaking nestled softly into her mane was like waking up in a library formed from Lilac bushes.

"I think it's nearly ten in the morning," she pointed out tentatively. "Do you think we should go?"

Draco looked around the room to get his bearings. Despite there being no windows, the cool dim glow of the room gave the impression that it could be mid-morning, like the room had been charmed to reflect the natural lightning from outside.

He sleepily pulled her body back into his, pressing her backside against him in a way that he quite liked. "No I think I'm fine here thank you"

She wriggled around in his grip to face him. His eyes peered down to see her face in close range. Her look was brimming with curiosity.

He scanned the contours of her face and found that he could count every freckle that dusted her nose. There was even the tiniest fleck of green in her left eye that he had never noticed before.

A mischievous hand threatened to distract him as it lingered over the exposed skin of her back, eventually finding the clasp to her bra. He toyed with the elastic, considering what could happen if he were to proceed.

When his eyes focused back on hers, he found that she was intently scanning the plains of his face. Her lips quirked in an alluring way when her brain was processing information.

Whatever was happening between himself and Hermione Granger was probably the worst thing he could have got himself into given his current state of affairs. But the way she looked at him, the way she touched him. He was not a strong man, and he relented that there wasn't any fighting it.

In what seemed on cue, the left arm that he had snaked under her neck and around her body twitched. It was a sobering reminder of the secret he kept from her.

Even a year ago, he was confident he could have pulled of a scheme to be with Granger, and not just behind closed doors. Yes, the chances of him being disowned were perhaps 50/50, but as his fingers danced down her spine, he thought wistfully that being disowned was not such a bad price to pay.

But if you factor in the rise of Voldemort, and the resurgence of Death Eaters, he wouldn't just be disowned by his family if they were found out, he would likely have to flee England all together.

Those were all hypothetical scenarios. The reality was much more dismal.

Draco, was at present, a Death Eater. He also had a mission to kill their Headmaster. When his eyes moved over her features, he had trouble looking into her honeyed eyes with the truth so close to the surface of his thoughts.

Her legs moved against his, creating a wonderful friction between their bodies, and he felt himself twitch with morning hardness.

In a desperate attempt to keep matters under control, he commanded his extremities to not act out of turn and do anything rash. It was a feeble attempt. His hands now rested on her backside, and he remarked with a grin, that her robes did not do her any favors in seeing how curvy she really was.

His brain scolded the hands, urging them to retreat. He had to keep the situation under control; he was resolute that they could not have sex. He couldn't with her not knowing the truth about him. Though, if she did learn he was a Death Eater, the chances of her giving him the time of day seemed unlikely as well.

Delicate fingers grazed against his chin and she angled his face down to meet her lips. His mouth burned into hers with the tortuously slow, intensity of her kiss.

Laying there, on the ancient couch, with an equally old blanket covering them (which Draco had deemed acceptable) they held each other, falling deeper into lazy laps of kisses, their tongues deliberately exploring.

Enjoying himself immensely, he thought it was pragmatic to steel away 10% of his brains operating power to think through how he was going to make this work.

The facts were: He was a Death Eater, currently in a compromising position with Hermione Granger, and all that stood between her knowing his secret was his oxford that was strategically still on despite their near nakedness.

He considered how he could mitigate the risks.

First, he had to make sure no one knew about them. Seeing as how Voldemort had a penchant to motivate his followers through harming or killing those close to Death Eaters, that coupled with her birth status, and her closeness to Potter, the level of wrath that would come down on her if they were to be found out made him uncharacteristically panicked. His arms closed in tight around her as if the threat was imminent.

With the assumption they could keep this secret, the second consideration was how he could avoid killing Dumbledore while also keeping his parents out of harms way. Draco had a strong suspicion that killing Dumbledore was likely to be a deal breaker for Granger.

Logically, it looked like the only way to come out on the other side of this with some possibility of being with her, would be in fleeing. Which meant he'd also have to get his parents to abscond with him, otherwise they would be punished, likely killed.

But that would mean leaving her behind to fight in a war that he knew full well he could never convince her to abandon.

And the idea of him running away, leaving her to fight for her right to exist in the Wizarding world did not feel acceptable.

He also thought that each of these scenarios assumed whatever was planned would go as smoothly as it possibly could go, which it likely wouldn't. That meant he would need to continue on with his task of killing Dumbledore, and either be successful in those efforts and return as a celebrated Death Eater with no possibility of Granger ever looking at him again, or die trying.

Grimly, he thought the latter would be infinitely easier.

At the same moment when he considered death the easiest alternative, Hermione breathed into him, her kiss feeling heavy as she curled her fingers through his hair. All of her kept him tied to the life of the living.

Her whole body was now moving softly against him, making his hips buck lightly. As much as he detested his voice of reason, he knew he could not be her first. If he died in vain as a Death Eater or actually was able to kill Dumbledore, she would forever be scarred by the deception.

A chill swept through his body. It was unnerving to recognize how important not hurting her had become to him. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever previously experienced. It was visceral, and all consuming.

So he had to consider the safest option: and that would be escaping with her, along with both of their families. He had to at least try and convince her to leave with him.

The cabinet was the key to solving all of this. He had realized what it was that he had found in the Room of Requirement as he drifted off to sleep that night. It was broken, yes, but if he could repair it, they had a way out to retrieve their parents and then leave the country. He worried about his parent's willingness to leave, and would likely would need to drug them to get them out, but reasoned the Grangers would go willingly. From the pictures, they looked like they weren't the fighting type.

He warmed thinking back to the night before, wrapped in a blanket with Hermione in his arms, looking at the photo album her parents had given her.

Not seeing pictures move was a bit eerie, he thought, which he had commented multiple times, mostly just to get a rise out of her.

He had laughed without respite when they'd come across pictures from before Hogwarts. Her hair was even more insane than first year; nearly equalling her whole body in mass. With each remark from Draco she'd elbow him, but he would always look down to make sure she was still smiling.

Sadness had seemed to overtake her as they continued to turn the pages. He kept an arm around her as she would occasionally pepper in details about the scene before them, but otherwise, sat in a comfortable silence as they each looked on.

There was no way to prove it, but he was nearly certain that she had already developed a plan to distance herself from her parents to protect them during the war. It made him feel reprehensible to even think he could or should convince Granger to not stay and fight this war if she was already willing to give up so much.

Distracting him from his memories, he focused up when she pressed her core up against his length, making him hiss with pleasure. He could feel her grinning against his lips.

"Is there something you wanted Granger?" Draco drawled, attempting to mask the multitude of urges he was feeling with his arrogance.

She rocked again into his body, and it sent his brain on fire.

"I was thinking" she started, her voice devastatingly shy despite her body communicating in a much more assured method, "if we're planning on being here for a bit longer…" her voice trailed off. She was driving him over the edge already.

His hand moved lower on her stomach, down to the band of her panties. With dexterity, his fingers made their way under the elastic, slowly sliding into her, hovering just over the place he knew would drive her mad.

"Something like this," he breathed into her ear, doing his best to contain himself.

"Mmmm yes perhaps…" she smiled, pulling his face down to hers, kissing him hungrily.