You Look Great

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the Harry Potter books,movie...etc, they belong to J.K Rowling.

A/N: Ok guys, just to let you know, that I got my beta, the lovely 'pink-levicorpus' author of one of my favorite's, Sed Quis Ipsos Custodes', and you should definitely check it out, but anyway, she wrote this chapter for me, and you should thank her, not me for her talent in writing

Hermione was only slightly aware of the change in Draco's demeanor after she answered his silent query with a suggestive fierceness to her eyes. He became rougher, his mouth crashing over hers with more determination—a great submission of self-control than before. It was as if he had been keeping himself on reserve, not wanting to push her into anything that she didn't want, but not fully trusting himself to have his way with her and not press for more than she was willing to give. Now that she had accepted his soundless proposal though, all hints of self control were gone and Draco was free to give himself wholly to the thought of her.

Hermione, on the other hand, was reeling from her acceptance. She wanted it—she truly did—but that didn't ease any of the anxiety that had built up in her stomach. She had always dreamed of this; wondering how it would be, with who (which, looking back, she was slightly embarrassed as her fantasies had usually incorporated Ron or Harry in some way), and how it would happen. Now that she was caught up in the moment though, the information was pelting her brain in a spastic reign of gunfire, punctuating fleeting thoughts with short, clipped answers. One part of her wanted to say something—to talk to Draco for a minute and analyze what was going on and what would change because of it. The other part of her however was perfectly content to allow the feeling of Draco's hot body against hers to render her perfectly incapable of all intelligible speech.

"Are you sure about this?" Draco asked hurriedly since the situation seemed to warrant some sort of second confirmation. Hermione moaned slightly, her acquiescence muffled by Draco's fevering kisses, for which he was eternally grateful. If she had pleaded a change of mind, Draco doubted he would have been able to stop himself. He was too far gone; caught up in the heat and passion emanating between himself and Hermione.

If Hermione had thought about it—which she was apt to do—she would have realized that this was undoubtedly her biggest fear. It wasn't so much the actual idea of making love to a boy she had always thought she hated, more than it was the fact that she was doing it at school. For years she had feared the consequences of taking something a little too far—between her shenanigans with Harry and Ron or fighting Voldemort—the fear of expulsion or suspension keeping her carefully in line. This though—she was sure was grounds for suspension, except for one tiny detail.

No one was around to know.

There would be no interruptions—no fear of discovery, no nosy teachers or snooping prefects, determined to catch the Head Boy and Girl doing something wrong. They were blissfully alone and Hermione was prepared to take advantage of that fact as much as she could.

"You are so beautiful," Draco murmured feverishly, marring her lips with tiny kisses. Hermione blushed hotly, unsure of how to respond to this. Was she supposed to say thank you? Was she supposed to return the compliment? She wasn't sure, but found herself thankful that Draco's mouth on hers kept her from having to come up with an intelligible response.

Just as Hermione was beginning to wonder whether or not Draco was planning on taking things any further than the fierce kisses he seemed determined to plant in various locations around her anatomy, she felt his hand slide slowly to the small of her back as he gently repositioned her beneath him. Hermione stared, wide-eyes and breathless, into his own silvery orbs that seemed determined to do this right. If the moment had been anything other than what is was, Hermione was almost sure she would have laughed aloud at his befuddled expression.

Draco was so close to her, his heavy body covering every hot inch of her own. Hermione bit her lip, wondering how exactly to proceed. In all of her dreams she had pictured the kissing and then the actual lovemaking—she had never paused to give thought to the actions needed to move from one action to the other. Thankfully though, Draco seemed to be taking all necessary measures to ensure the smooth—if not slightly awkward—transition between the two.

"H-Hermione you're so—," but Hermione would never know what Draco was going to say because it seemed that at that moment he was overcome with such emotion that he was rendered completely speechless. She had, Hermione realized with a smile, a certain control over him that was both intoxicating and empowering. And suddenly, it seemed her body knew what to do.

Hermione's hips arched slightly, pushing into Draco as he struggled to undo the buttons of her blouse simultaneously with those of his pants. He was remarkably swift in removing her blouse (which served to make Hermione a bit dubious—exactly how much practice had he had?) but his subsequent awkwardness with his own articles of clothing made Hermione laugh.

"I want—I can't—Hermione I can't go slowly," Draco stuttered out breathlessly, desperately trying to take his time and make the moment special for Hermione. Her eyes burned wickedly.

"It doesn't matter," she decided firmly, surprising herself by reaching up to strip him of his own shirt. She tossed it aside quickly, eager to feel his hot skin on her own. It was electrifying.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," Draco admitted, pulling Hermione closer to him so that she was pressed so tightly against him that there was no chance of escape for either of them. Hermione nodded her head wildly, unable to voice the reciprocated passion she felt towards the blond boy. Spasms of desire powered through her body, rendering her short of breath, unable to speak and unable to string together a coherent thought.

Draco's motions were uncontrolled and erratic as he attempted in vain to move as smoothly as he could. It wasn't like he didn't have experience with girls—he was actually a little ashamed of his track record with women—he had just never done anything that really mattered before. All of the other girls had been quick, easy deals where no love was brought or lost. Hermione though was completely different from anyone he had ever been with before. He wanted things to be special with her—to be meaningful. He wanted her to remember her first time as something amazing, not something to be quickly forgotten and pushed aside.

Draco had never been more thankful for the incredible control his father had taught him to keep over himself. As a child, during the painstakingly long exercises his father required as proper upbringing, Draco had loathed him, but now, as he bade himself to think of Hermione's needs over his own, Draco found that he was silently thanking his father for teaching him such command over himself.

However, even the most trained soldier has his breaking point.

"Hermione—I," but Draco couldn't finish his sentence, because Hermione chose that moment to exhale softly, a tiny moan of pleasure escaping her lips and all of Draco's self control went out the window.

Draco slid into her roughly, only half-aware of the groan his hurried actions elicited. Hermione's entire body went rigid and when she opened her mouth to say something all that came out was a raw, unadulterated moan of pain and pleasure. She grasped at his shoulders, her nails digging fiercely into his bare skin as she struggled to keep a straight thought in her head. After all her efforts at reason she could only come up with one thing.

She wanted him.

Hermione groaned Draco's name and then yelled it as he moved in and out of her with a fumbling awkwardness that could only be present in the coitus of inexperienced teenagers. It didn't work to hinder the pure exhilaration of the moment though, and after a final thrust Draco pulled out, collapsing in utter exhausting on top of Hermione's heated form.

For a moment, neither Hermione nor Draco said anything, instead breathing heavily in an attempt to regain some form of composure over themselves. Then, Draco moved slightly, rolling over so that he was lying next to Hermione rather than on top of her, on the couch. Both shuddered immediately, unprepared for the coolness that the absence of proximity provided. Then, slowly, both teenagers began to regain feeling and grasp the enormity of the situation.

"Hermione—I, I just wanted to say," Draco paused, his voice unusually choked and awkward. Hermione shook her head.

"You don't have to say anything."

"But I want to," Draco assured her, turning so that he was facing the bushy-haired girl. She looked back, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her brown eyes questioning. Draco swallowed slowly. "Hermione—I just wanted you to know that I've done that a lot—,"

"Oh gee, thanks," Hermione teased sarcastically, but Draco continued, undeterred.

"—but it's never meant as much as it did just now, with you."

And with that sentiment to blanket the couple they drifted into a peaceful slumber, entwined lovingly in eachother's arms.

Hermione woke up to a sharp pounding on the common room door.

She was both surprised and confused, and jumped up off the couch, suddenly aware of her own nakedness.

"What's going on?" Draco grumbled, sitting up sleepily on the couch. He too seemed slightly surprised to find himself so obviously undressed and reached out immediately for his own discarded articles of clothing.

"Someone's here," Hermione said quickly, shimmying into her pants and grabbing for her blouse. For the first time, Draco glanced to the door and realized that it was, in fact, being beaten rather harshly, and stepped up his own efforts at dressing.

"Who?" Draco asked, his mind still fuzzy with sleep as he stepped into his pants and grabbed for his shirt.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, patting down her hair that was wild from sleep and the rather savage actions of the night before. "Here."

Draco looked up just in time to catch the undershirt that Hermione had located for him and was intent on returning. He grinned in thanks.

"Okay, how do I look?"

If Draco had been thinking any more clearly he would have told Hermione that she had skipped a button on her blouse so it was oddly off-kilter and her hair was clear evidence their earlier actions, but considering the fact that Draco was just as tired as she was, he merely smiled, nodding.

"You look great." Hermione could barely contain a smile, but suppressed it long enough to make her way to the door. Throwing it open though gave Hermione a new reason to smile.

Molly Weasley.