Chapter 12: Just Trying To Make You Mine

Draco stepped out of the Floo, giving his charcoal grey suit jacket and slacks a quick dusting off. He unbuttoned the jacket and shrugged out of it, carefully laying it over the back of Granger's wingback chair. He smoothed his hand down his light grey Oxford shirt, giving himself a quick once-over to make sure he looked his usual impeccable self.

"Malfoy?" he heard Granger's tentative voice call out.

He cocked a brow, "You were expecting someone else?"

He heard her snort. "I'm not ready yet so make yourself comfortable. There's hot water in the kettle if you want tea…"

"Got anything stronger, perhaps?" he asked, his gaze flitting around the tiny Flat. It was small but had a cozy feel to it. Much like the witch occupying it…

"Umm… you might find some firewhiskey under the sink in the kitchen." Her voice was loud but muffled, followed by a creaking door and bare feet shuffling across the hardwood floor before another door creaked closed.

He followed the sound, walking down the narrow hall of her Flat, finding only three doors to choose from: a small one at the opposite end was obviously just a closet, while the other two, diagonal from one another, had to be her bathroom and her bedroom.

The bathroom door was partially open but the light was off. He could smell the faint hint of roses and vanilla in the muggy air, and he deduced she was fresh from a shower.

His gaze fell on the bedroom door now. It was cracked open just enough for him to see a stream of light and hear her shuffling about. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and softly pushed open her door, careful not to make a sound.

He licked his lips at the sight that greeted him. Wearing only a fluffy pink towel wrapped around her curvaceous body, she was standing in front of her small bed, two outfit choices laid out in front of her. She had her left hand extended, admiring her new engagement ring in the fading sunlight which streamed in from her window.

It made his heart seize in his chest - the way she stared at the diamond and sapphires, the softest, most whimsical smile tugging on her lips. And before he knew what he was about, he had drifted to her side, his arms encircling her waist and pulling her flush against him.

She gasped and tensed within his embrace, clearly indicating he had taken her by surprise. But he nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck and she sighed breathlessly and melted back against him.

He growled low in his throat when he felt her acquiescence. His grip on her waist tightened possessively and his warm breath danced into her ear. Salazar, he silently cursed, she smelled like Amortentia personified. He could drown in her scent… and die a happy man.

She made a sound, something incoherent but so fucking animalistic, it heated his blood and hardened his groin almost instantly. Emboldened, he pressed his erection against her buttocks now, making his desire for her known.

She shifted against him, intentionally or not, he couldn't be sure, and it was his turn to moan, a gasp escaping unwarranted from his lips as he fruitlessly pressed his mouth against the bare flesh of her neck.

She was still slightly damp from her shower, droplets of water clinging to her naked skin. He couldn't help himself then, the flat of his tongue gliding over her softness, trailing to just behind her earlobe, before he released a shuddering breath that gave her goosebumps and had her writhing against him.

"Fuck me," he muttered as he dug his fingertips into her hips to stall her movements.

"I'm trying," she begged, and she ground herself against his member while urging his hand to sink lower towards the apex of her thighs, seeking the friction both of their bodies were obviously craving.

Draco sputtered a response. He had two choices before him now: rip that fucking towel from her body and fuck her hard against the wall or step away and allow her to dress so they weren't late to meet her friends.

Decisions… decisions…

He reached his hand up and took her chin within his fingers and guided her to turn and look at him. He laid a sweet and tender kiss to her lips, his tongue slowly entering her mouth in a sweeping motion, thoroughly stealing her breath until she had no choice but to break the kiss just to breathe.

Her honey colored eyes searched his for a moment, her pupils blown wide with heat and lust. She let her left hand caress the light stubble that still dusted his cheek. He had been in too much of a hurry to return to her side after he Floo'd home to change, he didn't even think to shave.

She turned in his embrace now, bringing her front against him. She let her fingertips ghost over his mouth and she bit her lip in contemplation, her other hand toying with the knot of her towel.

He could practically hear the wheels spinning in her brain, trying to make up her mind if she wanted to stay there in that moment with him or move forward with her birthday plans.

He'd never make her choose between him or her friends, this much he had sworn to himself.

He laid a soft kiss against each tip of her fingers then pulled back, stepping away from her, careful not to let her think he was rejecting her.

He cleared his throat, his hand moving to his neck habitually to adjust his tie. Another thing he had forgone in his haste… no tie tonight, his top two buttons left undone just the way she seemed to like it.

She crossed her arms over her chest, holding the towel firmly in place. He shoved his hand through his hair, his gaze shifting to the floor, then glancing around her sparse room before landing on her once again.

"I'll go… wait… in the other room…" he stammered.

She swallowed and nodded.

"Right," he murmured and lunged for the door. Firewhiskey was definitely a sound option now, to cool the boil in his blood.

But he stopped just short of stepping out into the hall. He glanced over his shoulder at her, "Go with the grey dress… it shows more leg." He released a deep sigh as he openly appraised her, "Fuck, I do like your legs, Granger."

She gave him a knowing smirk, "Alright, Malfoy."

He smiled then gave her a quick wink before he left her bedroom.

It was half past the hour when she finally emerged from her bedroom, looking every inch the breathtaking goddess he had spent countless nights imagining.

Dressed in that tight grey dress that fell short around her mid thigh and strappy grey stilettos, she had left her curly mane free but it looked so soft and silky, falling in ringlets around her shoulders.

Draco clenched his hand around the tumbler of firewhiskey he held to keep himself from reaching for her, gave her a tight smile then returned to perusing one of her many bookshelves. He plucked one random book off the shelf and studied it closely… anything to keep his attention focused elsewhere.

"I see you found the liquor," she laughed.

He took a sip and mumbled a "hmmm", his attention completely focused on the tome in his other hand.

And that's when he felt it, something warm sliding against the bottom of his leg. He looked down to see a rather large and very old orange cat steadily brushing against his trousers, weaving its form between his feet.

Hermione hurried to his side, scooping the beast of a feline into her arms. "S-Sorry… he's usually not this friendly with strangers…"

"You still have your cat," he surmised with a trace of humor.

Draco felt an odd twinge of jealousy as he watched Hermione nuzzle her plump, orange companion. Surprisingly, the old guy let her without a single protest.

She swallowed nervously, "I hope that's okay. We're sort of a packaged deal."

Draco gave her an incredulous look, cocking an eyebrow, "Why wouldn't it be okay?"

"Oh, well... I don't know. I've never really seen you with a pet and...um, well Ron hated him so..." she stammered.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Yes, because Weasley and I have so much in common..." he replied dryly.

"N-no... I didn't mean to imply..."

"It's only a cat, Granger," he interrupted. "I mean, I'm more of a dog person myself, but how much trouble can one cat truly be? Besides, the Manor is large and I'm sure he'll find plenty of mice to keep him entertained." Draco shrugged.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, "What about your mother? I mean, there would be cat hair and...and..."

Draco was puzzled, "And?" But then he sighed, "Granger, you could show up with a second husband and five children, and Narcissa Malfoy would welcome you with open arms, so desperate for company she is these days." He gave her a small smile, "To her, you're perfect."

She swallowed, "And you?"

His smile shifted into his patented smirk and he studied her for a moment, before he shook his empty glass, "How about a refill?"

"Perhaps some tea instead?" she tried, putting Crookshanks down.

"Spoil sport," he lightly teased and it earned him one of those soft smiles that he hated to admit, made his heart stutter in his chest. He quickly turned away, focusing again on her book collection but all too aware of her every movement.

She walked into the kitchen and started preparing the kettle, one eye keeping vigilance on Draco. He continued to peruse her bookshelf, his hand absently straying to pet Crookshanks every time the cat nudged him, which was surprisingly often.

He saw the neatly stacked books Flinty had brought her Sunday night, there, on her small desk beside the bookshelf. A notepad full of handwritten notes lay beside them with several post-its highlighting specific passages.

"Someone's been busy," he chuckled. He glanced over at her and she was turning a shade of red, blushing hard.

She shrugged as she reached for two mugs, placing a tea bag in each. "Trouble sleeping…" She avoided meeting his gaze, concentrating on the task before her.

He turned away, remorse making his stomach tighten. He hadn't meant to upset her Sunday night and he secretly hoped her sleep deprivation had less to do with him than typical Granger-induced stress.

Don't be an arse, Draco, he chided himself. For once in your life, try not to fuck this up.

His fingers toyed with the pages of the notepad, his brain whirling with self-flagellation as he reminded himself again to go slow. He could've slammed her against a wall and fucked her in her room earlier, she was more than willing, but the fact that he stopped himself… well, if that wasn't personal growth, he damn sure didn't know what was.

But now they were back to that stiff awkwardness and he found himself silently wishing he had thought to drink a small sip of his Felix Felicis when he had briefly gone back to the Manor.

His fingers ghosted over the lid of a shoebox there on her desk, his movements perfunctory and absent-minded as he tried to come up with a solution to their sudden problem. But when her small hand slammed down on the lid as he moved to lift it, startling him from his reverie, he found himself face-to-face with a very nervous witch.

She slid the box away from him, clutching it to her bosom. "N-not that…" she whispered and turned away from him.

But he grabbed her wrist and whirled her to face him. He cocked an eyebrow, "Well now I have to see it."

"Please don't," she pleaded.

He furrowed his brow, and a sinking feeling deep in his gut started to gnaw at his insides. "Secrets, Granger?"

She was worrying her bottom lip again, staring down at the box in her grasp. And then her gaze fell on the ring on her left hand. She offered him back the box with a shaky sigh of resignation, "Just don't be mean, Malfoy."

It was like being punched in the face all over again. For fuck's sake, what was it going to take for her to see he was a changed man?!

But one look at her face settled his anger. For the first time since they met back in First Year, Hermione Granger looked afraid. And it wasn't the type of fear someone might feel if, say, they were faced with the return of The Dark Lord…. No, the fear written all over her face in that precise moment was the type when you're afraid someone you cared for might think less of you.

And Draco Malfoy knew that particular fear all too well.

He tried to meet her eyes but she refused to look at him, a blush staining her cheeks once again. She hurried back into the small kitchen, busying herself with making the tea. But her hands were noticeably shaking.

He stared down at the box in his hands. A greater man would have set it aside and sauntered over to his witch and snogged her senseless until they were both clawing at one another's clothing, the box forgotten.

He swallowed. But Draco Malfoy was a selfish git. And he wanted all of Hermione Granger, deep dark secrets and the like.

He pulled off the lid and paused to release the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

There, staring back at him, were several clippings from The Prophet, his own image moving within the captured moments. He sifted through them - the oldest going back as far as when his father had been sent to Azkaban right after Fifth Year.

There was green and silver curling ribbon tucked into a corner of the box and he pulled it out for closer inspection. He looked up to see Granger staring at him, nervously chewing on the end of her thumb. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's... uh… from your big semi-final Quidditch win in Fourth Year…" she whispered. "I collected it from the field after everyone left."

He didn't know what to say. He carefully picked through the box, cringing at The Prophet's over abundance for reporting on every possible date he had over the last eight years. He pushed them aside and found a folded piece of parchment beneath the stack.

"Oh god," Hermione gasped. She buried her head in her hands, suddenly too mortified to watch.

He unfolded it and had to suppress his smile. It was a stray bit of his Arithmancy work from Fifth Year… in which he had busied himself by drawing constellations along the edge in his boredom. Only Hermione Granger would get off from his scrap piece of schoolwork...

He refolded the page and laid it back in the box, along with the ribbon. He calmly set it down on the desk and closed the lid. He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers and cleared his throat. Only then did he chance another glance in her direction.

Hermione had turned away now, leaning back against the breakfast bar. He just stood there watching her, silence dragging seconds into minutes.

Finally, she spoke, but refused to face him, "Say something."

He smirked, "Seems you have a bit of an obsession with me, Granger."

She snorted, pushing herself off the counter. "I hate you…" she muttered.

His smirk grew broader, "Hate me… love me… still an obsession."

She groaned, moving to stir the steaming tea in one of the cups. There was no mistaking the shaking of her hands as the spoon rattled against the ceramic.

He closed the distance between them now, sliding his hands around her waist to interlock their fingers while bringing his front flush against her back. He tried to ignore the fact that she fit so perfectly within his embrace, every delicious curve melding against the hardness of his form.

"How long?" he whispered against her skin as he feathered tiny kisses along the line of her jaw.

"Fourth year… the Yule Ball…" she answered honestly, then he felt her tense beneath him at the truth she just let slip.

"You looked fucking gorgeous that night," he agreed, his chin resting on her shoulder. He swallowed, "I…uh.. I wanted to be your date...but I knew I never stood a chance. So I urged Krum to ask you…"

She turned in his embrace and gave him a startled look. He returned it with a shy smile, "Anything to keep you away from the Weasel and Potter…"

An inescapable sadness filled her eyes then and she opened her mouth to say something but he stopped her with the press of one finger against her lips.

"I've got you beat, Granger," he removed his finger and drifted his lips over hers, catching the shaky breath she gasped. "You've been the Star of my wank fantasies since Third Year… right after you punched me in my face." He moved his mouth to suck a bruising kiss against the tender skin between her shoulder and neck.

She whimpered in response, fueling the fire already rebuilding itself throughout his body. She even tilted her head to the side to give him greater access. "You were being such a git..." she huffed, her voice a strained whisper.

Fuck… every fiber of his being screamed in conjunction for him to flip her around, press her down onto the counter, hike up her skirt and take what she was unknowingly offering. He ran his tongue to the hollow of her throat, purring, "Mmmm... but you liked it..."

"What can I say, I'm a glutton for punishment." She shrugged, her hands clenching tightly to his shoulders. Her eyes drifted closed and her head lolled back. A beautiful moan of pleasure escaped her lips then.

"I'm almost certain all I heard was 'Draco, please punish me'..." he growled, his hands moving to splay along her spine, his deft fingers finding the zipper to her dress rather easily.

She gave him a playful smack, "Of course that's what you heard…" She almost giggled but it turned into a sharp intake of breath as his teeth skimmed over her collarbone.

"Tell me to stop, Granger," he practically begged, one hand pulling at the zipper now while his other drifted to squeeze her backside.

"S-stop Granger…" she murmured, and her lips found his neck, the tip of her tongue tracing a wet path to his earlobe, which she then sucked between her teeth, nipping him.

He jerked against her. Bloody fucking hell.

Draco lifted his head and his mouth descended on hers, his kiss one of pure desperation. And she met him eagerly. Their hands were everywhere now, caressing… teasing… wrinkling the finely pressed material of their clothes, making them both look completely disheveled. And yet neither of them seemed to care.

It wasn't until he had her pinned against the counter, his leg forcing her thighs apart, that she weakly stammered, "D-Draco… s-stop…"

She was clutching fiercely at his shoulders, her nails practically digging into his flesh. He immediately pulled back, but didn't step away. He rested his forehead against her chest, his fingers clenching the cheap material of the countertop with such ferocity, he could feel it crack under the pressure.

"Draco…" she started.

"I just need a minute, Granger," he interrupted, his voice low and harsh.

She swallowed, her hand straying to caress his hair, her fingers trailing through his platinum locks in a quiet, almost loving manner. "I want you…" she whispered.

He shifted, looking up into her soft, brown gaze. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited to hear you say that?"

She gave him a sad smile, "Since Third Year, perhaps?"

His entire body tensed beneath her touch, "It sounds pathetic when I hear it out loud." He again buried his face into her shoulder.

She shook her head, "I kept your homework for the last eleven years, Draco… no one is more pathetic than me."

He smiled in spite of himself, "Fair enough…"

"Hey!" Again she playfully smacked him.

He looked up, a new fire burning in his gaze. "Pathetic together then?"

She returned his smile with one of equal measure, "Together…" Then she leaned forward and grazed his mouth with her lips. It took mere seconds before they were snogging each other hurriedly once again, their hands pawing needingly at their clothing.

His hand gripped the back of her neck and he pulled free of her, his forehead resting against hers. "Granger…" he warned.

"I know… I know…" But even as she panted the words, her lips sought his, her tongue dancing into the warmth of his mouth.

It was her turn to pull back slightly this time, "We should stop…" Her words came as more of a plea than a statement.

"Mmmm…" he mumbled, peppering her cleavage with bruising kisses. They achieved his desired effect as she groaned, arching her back to give him even more access.

"Draco… Draco… Draco…" His name fell from her lips in prayer. "I-if we don't show up at The Three Broomsticks, Harry will come looking for me."

Draco chuckled low, "Your friends are entirely too involved in your personal life."

"Tell me something I don't know," she laughed.

His eyes immediately fell to her lips and he leaned in, giving her one last lingering, breathtaking kiss that he dragged out until she was mewling inside his mouth.

He broke away then, trying to step back but she wouldn't release him.

"Revisit this later?" she asked, the urgency in her eyes giving him pause.

"I'm not going anywhere, Granger," he replied, giving her a chaste peck on the tip of her nose. This time, when he pulled away, she let him go.

He reluctantly left her in the kitchen, moving into the sitting area where he quickly found his suit jacket and slid it on, buttoning it at the waist. He was aware she watched his every move.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards her front door.

She shook her head, collecting herself. "Just let me fetch my purse," she swallowed.

He gave a curt nod and watched as she hurried back to her bedroom. Once out of ear shot, he took a slow, deep breath… his nerves getting the best of him in the moment.

She was back in a flash and he prided himself on being carefully put back in control, his features schooled behind his impassive mask. But it took him a moment to realize she was talking.

"Were you able to owl Pansy," she was saying, his brain working hard to catch up in the conversation.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he moved to follow her out of the Flat. "Yes. She said she will meet us there… though why you felt the need to invite her is beyond me."

Hermione stopped and looked at Draco with confusion, "She's your friend…"

He cocked a brow, "And?" He smirked, "Don't tell me you invited her so I'll be more comfortable, Granger… Because it's a bold lie… especially for you."

"Okay, fine," she huffed. "I promised her I'd introduce her to Neville."

Draco's smile widened.

"You don't look surprised," she replied with a quizzical stare.

He shrugged, "She's always been inclined towards hapless creatures… they don't get more hapless than Longbottom."

Hermione scoffed, "Neville is a great guy, Malfoy. Pansy would be lucky to have him."

Draco pretended to be offended, throwing his hands up in mock defense, "Easy there, Granger… I happen to like Longbottom." He placed his warm hand on the small of her back, leading her down the staircase. "Unless, of course, this is where you tell me the two of you once shagged... then the wanker better have his last will and testament written…"

She gave him a mischievous grin, "What? Is Draco Malfoy suddenly the jealous one in this relationship?"

They stepped off the last step and out into the open street of Hogsmeade. Draco glanced around, noting the few stray people walking down the cobblestone path, hurrying off to their destinations. The sun had set and there was a noticeable chill in the air.

He intertwined his fingers with Hermione's, and quickly yanked her into the shadows beneath the staircase.

She softly yelped as he pressed her back into the brick facade of her apartment building. He pushed his hard body into hers now, one of his hands tangling into her curls. "You're my witch, Granger," came his deadly whisper, his teeth nipping at her lips.

She released a shuddering breath, squirming as she rotated her hips against his. She gave him a wicked smile as she watched him close his eyes in a failed attempt to remain in control.

Hermione closed the small distance between them, her mouth capturing his in a fierce stamp of ownership. "And you're my wizard.."

He couldn't help but laugh. Fuck, she was definitely on fire tonight… and so possessive. It did something strange to his insides just then… hearing those words tumble from her mouth.

He leaned in close, the pad of his thumb pulling ever so slightly at the corner of her lips. "What I would give to fuck this pretty little mouth of yours…" he growled low and deep in his chest.

She made a small whimpering noise that hardened his cock almost instantaneously. Then she surprised him by drawing his thumb into the warmth of her mouth, sucking tenderly at the tip before skimming the flesh with her teeth.

Sodding hell… fuck… fuck… fuck…. His mind prattled off a thousand expletives as his hips pressed unforgiving into her own. And she responded in kind, with one of her luscious legs wrapping around his calf, urging him closer.

The grip he had on her curls tightened as he raised an eyebrow, "Hermione Granger has a bit of a naughty side. Trying to make me uncomfortable before we go have dinner with your friends?" He chuckled low, his thumb thrusting between her lips.

"You started it," she panted, giving the underside of his finger a very wet lick.

"I did, didn't I?" he whispered, then quickly withdrew his finger and replaced it with his tongue, kissing her good and hard now.

He swallowed every moan… every passionate sound he drew from her breath until her entire body was clinging to him in wanton desperation.

"You're killing me, Granger…" rushed out from his lips, the words hot against her cheek. "But it shall be a good death… a happy death…" he finished in her ear.

Hermione whimpered in response.

With a final kiss to her lips, Draco stepped away from her, casually draping his left arm over her shoulders and they slowly walked together towards the restaurant, their eyes only for each other as they made small talk and teased each other playfully.

And suddenly they were there at The Three Broomsticks, the faint glow of light streaming from the large windows in front of the restaurant. It was packed tonight… more than likely brimming with Gryffindors. She immediately interlocked their fingers and started for the door but he didn't budge.

She turned and gave him a look of confusion, "Draco?"

He swallowed and tightened his hold on her hand as his face hardened, "Aren't you going to read me The Riot Act and tell me to be nice?"

She stepped into him, her free hand lightly caressing his cheek, "Just be yourself, Draco. That's all I ask…"

The way she was looking at him in that moment, he almost believed her.

He brought their conjoined hands to his lips and laid a tender kiss on the back of her palm. Then he gestured them forward, "Into the lion's den…"

She took a deep breath, "Famous last words."

He pulled open the door and waited like any other gentlemanly wizard would do. But she was having none of it. She squeezed his left hand in reassurance before laying her other hand on his wrist, drawing him close to her side… a distinctive show of loyalty and unity.

They entered the restaurant side-by-side… together.