Once they'd both redressed, Draco refilled her wine glass before they set off throughout the house. They ambled through the many rooms of the first floor, most of them richly decorated studies or tea rooms for entertaining. She seemed pleased by everything he showed her and though she constantly asked questions, a sudden thought occurred: this didn't impress her in the way it would other women. Not in the way his library had, but that had less to do with the monetary value contained within those shelves and everything to do with the amount of knowledge at his disposal in that room alone.
Hermione wasn't wandering from room to room calculating the amount of gold each piece of art, decoration, tapestry, or furniture must have cost. Instead, she asked thoughtful questions about the design choices, inquired as to the history of certain paintings, offered her opinion and admiration of the style of architecture. She was trying to get to know Draco via the place he called home, not envision all the fabulous ways she could spend his money.
Unfortunately, Draco had honestly handed over much of the decorating control to his mother and a team of interior designers, so most of the rooms were quite impersonal, in his opinion.
"Have you ever hosted a ball in here?"
They had reached the grand ballroom, and Hermione left his side to walk to the middle of the gleaming, parquet floors. She revolved slowly on the spot with her head craned toward the ceiling to take in the twinkling mural of the celestial sphere that covered the overhead entirely.
"No, I'm not one for entertaining large parties, if you couldn't tell," he responded, wryly. "I leave that task to my mother. Besides, her ballroom is easily triple the size of this one."
A small smile graced her features as she continued to peruse the constellation groups up above. Draco had a sudden vision of gathering her in his arms and twirling her about the dance floor in front of hundreds of guests, proudly showing off the witch he could now call his own.
"Draco," she called softly, breaking his reverie. He looked over, but her eyes were still trained on the ceiling. Hermione pointed upwards and he found that she was indicating his namesake constellation in the mural.
"It's a tradition, on my mother's side, to name children after constellations or stars."
"I gathered," she replied. "Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda…" she ticked off. "Do you like your name?" she asked suddenly.
Draco shrugged, having never really considered it before. He recalled once that Ron Weasley had mocked his name, but really, that ginger git had no legs to stand on with a surname like Weasley.
"I like hearing it from you," he murmured and her brown eyes snapped to his. Hermione blushed and broke the gaze.
"Can you take me around the grounds? Since I Flooed here I didn't have a chance to appreciate any of the landscape or gardens."
Draco scratched the back of his head and considered her request. "Unfortunately it's late so you won't be able to see anything in the darkness. We can sit on the verandah for a while if you'd like."
She grinned and nodded and he led the way out of the ceiling high French doors from the ballroom. It was a pleasantly cool evening, and in the darkness of the countryside, the real stars shone just as brightly as their faux counterparts in the ballroom mural.
Draco waved his wand in a brisk pattern and the many torches and lamps lining the stone railings and footpaths came to life. He heard Hermione suck in a surprised breath at the vastness of the space before her, and though it was mostly hidden by the night, he was sure she could just make out the edges of the sprawling back lawns and gardens that abutted a dense forest.
They sat side by side on one of the many stone benches and Draco finally delivered on his promise of hearing about Hermione's Venice trip without being a petulant little toad. She chatted happily and sipped her wine, and Draco marveled at how easy this all felt. Not two hours ago he was stewing in self-doubt and melancholy and now he found himself talking animatedly with Hermione about the merits of Italian cuisine.
When their conversation came to a natural lull, Hermione tipped her head back and looked skyward. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from her face, but felt a sudden movement against his hand. She'd silently reached over and taken his hand in hers, as if that were a routine act between them. Draco's chest swelled as he glanced down at the sight of their joined hands, and he glided a large thumb along the inside of one of her fingers.
When he looked back up, she was smiling at him. "I meant what I said earlier. Don't think you're getting out of showing me the bedroom. I need to see for myself if you have wallpaper of little green snakes."
"Granger, no self-respecting modern aristocrat still uses wallpaper," he quipped and tugged her up by the hand.
Draco led her back through the house and up the grand staircase, hands intertwined the whole way. He threw her a smirk when they finally reached the threshold of his bedroom and she answered with one of her own.
With a simple arching of his eyebrow, he gave her the go-ahead to explore at her leisure. She laughed and released his hand to freely walk about his private quarters.
Of course, Granger heads immediately to the bookshelves. As she did in the library hours ago, she slowly ran her fingers along the spines before selecting a title. "I see you have mostly fiction here. Is that intentional?"
"Yes," he said, coming to stand beside her. "It's my preferred genre for when I'm free of quidditch reports or financial documents."
She held up the book in her hand. "What did you make of this one?"
It was a classical novel set just after the death of Merlin, about a young wizard named Aloysius who embarks on a journey of self-discovery as he spreads the knowledge of magic throughout the European wizarding community. There was a thrilling chapter that contained a battle with a dragon that had captured Draco's imagination when he was much younger.
"It's a classic for a reason, I've gone back to it a fair few times."
"I have a few Muggle books in mind that I think you'd enjoy that are similar. If you don't object." She tentatively suggested.
"As I wouldn't have the faintest idea where to begin, I'll trust your judgment."
Her smile was radiant as she looked up at him before continuing her inspection. Draco settled into an armchair in front of the roaring fire (Crick must have come up here at some point, the sneaky little thing) and waited for her to stumble across things with which to tease him.
Finally, she settled on the chaise lounge he levitated over from its usual spot beneath the window. Being the consummate loner he was these days, he had no need for two armchairs in his bedroom. Hermione's seating options would have been the edge of his bed or his lap, although now that he thinks about it, perhaps he'd been too hasty in bringing over the lounge…
"All right, I concede," she piped up. "I fully expected everything in your bedroom to be covered in green and silver."
"Tsk tsk, Granger, haven't you learned by now not to assume things about me?"
She playfully rolled her eyes as she sipped her wine. Placing it firmly on the side table, she suddenly stood up and faced him.
"Speaking of assuming things, I think we ought to have a discussion."
Draco tensed, expecting the worst. Had he done something untoward in the last few hours? Fuck, maybe she felt taken advantage of, all alone in this big, empty house with him and—
"I think it would be prudent to lay down some ground rules, or rather, set some expectations," Hermione elaborated.
"Regarding?"
"Our relationship."
She stated it so matter of fact that Draco had to fight the ridiculous grin that threatened to emerge. Our relationship.
Hermione was now pacing in front of the fireplace, hands clasped in front of her, as if she were about to launch into a dissertation on the regulations governing hippogriff ownership.
"I suppose we should start with the more difficult aspect, given what you accused me of earlier," she began and Draco winced. "I don't want to hide what I feel for you. I'm not ashamed of you."
All he could do was stare back at her. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of how to respond.
Thank you.
You should be.
I can't ever deserve you.
"I'm not ashamed of you," Hermione repeated sternly, though her eyes were soft in understanding, as if she'd heard his thoughts. Draco merely nodded to show he listened and wished for her to move on, lest he succumb to an irrational or emotional response. Again.
"Ginny knows how I feel about you, and I suppose Luna does as well. However, given the history between you and the rest of my friends, I'd like to propose a gradual reveal, if that sounds all right to you."
That sounded logical to Draco, though he desperately wanted to be there in person when she informed the Weasel of their relationship. That prat was going to blow his stack.
"It's fine with me, we can take this at your pace," he replied honestly.
"Malfoy, I really hope you understand, I don't want to keep you a secret. That would imply what I thought is happening between us is wrong. It's not. The past circumstances being what they were between you, Ron, and Harry, specifically… well, I'd just like for no one to draw wands and start throwing curses. Not to mention," she paused and gave him a small smile. "I'd like the chance to see where this goes first, without any outside meddling."
Now that part, Draco could appreciate. Having Granger all to himself without the interference of Scarhead and his hapless sidekick? Perfect.
"I'd like to confide in Theo, if that's acceptable," Draco said.
"Of course," she agreed. "And… do you ever plan on telling your—your mother?" she asked hesitantly.
Draco thought of how he might break the news via letter.
Dearest Mother, I'm currently dating Hermione Granger. I trust you remember her and her non-pureblood heritage. I've gone and completely fallen in love with her, so please refrain from sending me letters containing your recommendations on the qualities of various gold-digging witches you socialize with at galas and the like, as I'm quite content in my choice. Your loving son, Draco.
No, he'd spare Hermione that particular form of torture, for now.
Hermione was looking at him apprehensively, and it dawned on Draco what her question really meant.
"I'm not ashamed of you either, Granger," he stated cautiously, and her face relaxed. "But I'd like the same courtesy for telling my mother that you're extending to your more… difficult friends. The chance to court you, without outside meddling."
Her cheeks flushed an attractive pink. "You're courting me, are you?"
"Among other things," he murmured and her flush deepened.
With smug satisfaction, he saw her body shiver, but she shook it off with dignity. "Speaking of… other things," Hermione paused here and flipped some of her escaped hair over her shoulder. "How many other partners have you slept with?"
He held back an amused snort. Typical Granger, no finesse whatsoever, just barreling in with her questions. Perhaps this little witch had a possessive streak, which if he were being honest, was somehow arousing in Hermione where it had been a turnoff in Pansy.
"You would be the sixth." Feeling that he'd earned the right to reciprocity, he threw her question back. "And yourself?
"You would be my fifth partner."
Hmm, Draco's mind couldn't help but wonder at the identity of her previous four lovers, though felt it was too soon in the fledgling relationship to ask. Obviously, and tragically, the Weasel was definitely one of them. He also vaguely recalled her mentioning taking back up with Viktor Krum straight after that breakup, so that accounted for two. This left Draco with two more names to track down…
"I expect complete fidelity while we're together, that's non-negotiable," she stated, chin set, head proudly high.
Draco couldn't resist an eye roll this time. "Merlin, Granger, seriously? I'm not the type to screw around. I hardly have the opportunity and I certainly don't have the inclination."
You're it for me, if you hadn't already realized. I am okay with this.
His answer, biting though it may have been, seemed to placate her.
"Good, because in that same vein, I'd like to discuss appropriate boundaries with the opposite sex."
"Sorry?"
"Appropriate boundaries," Hermione repeated and came to a stop, facing Draco head-on. "For example," she began, and reached behind her head to undo her ponytail.
"I have many close friends who happen to be male. These relationships are strictly platonic." She shook out her mass of curls, then gathered them in her hands.
"Even though there is no romantic element to my relationship with Ron, Harry, or the men in the Weasley family, physical displays of familial affection are not uncommon," she explained as she quickly tied her hair back into a much tighter and higher ponytail.
"Hugs and pecks on the cheek are standard forms of greeting, so I won't accept any sort of jealous pushback on that," Hermione went on and Draco shrugged. Did he enjoy the fact that Weasley and his innumerable brothers felt entitled to put their hands and mouths anywhere near Hermione? Not in the slightest, but he wasn't about to start an argument over this.
"I'm aware in your circles that it's customary to lightly kiss the knuckles or cheeks of women, so I understand that act is nothing but a formality at certain social functions for you."
Draco wanted to contradict her and tell her he avoided these social functions like the plague, barring his mother's New Year's ball, but wanted to see what else made Hermione's list of appropriate physical contact with men who were not him.
"Now, I think I need to make things just a bit clearer." She slowly approached Draco and gently trailed one hand up his arm as she came to stand behind his chair.
Both her hands came to rest on his shoulders and she began to lightly knead the muscles there. "For instance, I would be most upset if another woman were to have her hands on you in this way."
"Hmm?" Draco managed as his body surrendered to the blissful relaxation of Hermione massaging his shoulders.
Her lips were now right next to his ear. "Oh yes, I don't think I'd be very amused to find another woman with her hands on your shoulders. Especially if they started to wander."
She moved her fingers to the top buttons of his shirt and began undoing them one by one. Well this little chat was certainly taking an interesting turn…
Hermione raked her hands up and down his bare chest and planted soft kisses against the skin of his neck. Draco sucked in a harsh breath as a surge of pleasure shot straight to his groin. "And I, of course, would absolutely not be touching or kissing any other man in this manner," she murmured.
Draco turned his head slightly to capture her plump lips, teasing out her tongue with his own. Breaking the kiss, he felt her grin against his mouth. "And I definitely will be reserving that sort of snogging for you," she whispered.
"You better," he growled possessively.
Hermione straightened up then, out of his reach, and Draco was tempted to pull her around the chair and right into his lap, but she seemed to have other plans.
She moved around the front of the chair and stood between his outstretched legs. Leaning down to kiss him again, Draco appreciated a delightful view of her tits down the front of her dress as she bent at the waist.
"I would hope you have enough respect for me not to ogle other women in the way you just did me," she said cheekily.
"Trust me, Granger, there's more than enough here for me to ogle," he muttered before reaching up to cup and caress both of her breasts.
She leant down again and planted kisses at the base of his neck and then worked her way down his chest all the way to his abdomen. Smiling mischievously, she stepped back out of his reach, then parted his long legs further so she could kneel between them. "And allow me to assure you that I would never touch another man in this way while we're together."
No way. No way was this happening to him.
Oh but it was. Hermione undid his belt buckle and teasingly ran her hand up the length of his erection before unzipping his trousers. When her hand disappeared into his trunks and grasped his cock firmly, Draco threw his head back and bit his lip to keep from crying out.
"Now for as long as we are… hmm I'm not sure exactly what to call you and me," she mused as she stroked him deliberately, applying the perfect amount of pressure, and Draco lifted his hips briefly so she could tug his trousers down. He settled back in the chair and tried not to thrust erratically into her pumping hand.
"You can call me whatever the fuck you want when you're doing that," he gasped.
"Language, Malfoy," she chided him softly and then enveloped as much of him as she could physically take with her mouth.
Draco now believed in reincarnation. He must have been a literal saint in his previous life to have earned this moment because he'd certainly done nothing in his current stint on the earth to deserve this gift. It was the only explanation for the sight before his eyes of Hermione on her knees, sucking him off.
Call this what you want. You can call me anything you want.
Draco clutched the armrests in a death grip so as not to impulsively reach out and grab her hair while she lowered her gorgeous warm, wet mouth to him continuously. Hermione slowed her pace before releasing him with a soft pop.
She looked up at him with those big, brown eyes, lips moist from pleasuring him orally not a moment ago, and resumed her business-like tone. "Boyfriend and girlfriend just sounds so immature to me. Again, I don't think we should lie to people. So if anyone directly asks, we can tell them that we're dating one another. Exclusively."
Holding his gaze, Hermione lowered her mouth around him again and sucked the length of him a few times, working him into a fevered, panting state. She released his cock after several blissful minutes during which Draco tried not to black out in ecstasy, and tilted her head to the side with a question. "Is that agreeable to you?"
Hermione ended this question by licking the entire length of his shaft from base to head before swirling her tongue around his sensitive tip.
"Y-yes," he managed to choke out, knowing she'd made a well-reasoned proposal, but also knowing he would have agreed to literally anything she asked in that moment. Set myself on fire? Sure. Keys to all my vaults? Here you go. Publicly declare the Chudley Cannons to be a decent quidditch team? Done.
"Wonderful." She beamed up at him and then engulfed him in her mouth again. Draco's knuckles were turning white on the armrests, and he knew his control was quickly slipping away.
"Granger… you don't have to… I'm close… I'm… fuck… you're going to… make me come…"
But she met his eyes and only bobbed her head faster, and Draco was soon helpless to stop his climax.
"Fuck… so fucking good… Hermione…" His release shot out of him and down her throat and his eyes widened as he watched her swallow every drop.
Draco couldn't move a muscle, he was rendered boneless where he sat. He watched Hermione stand back up, smooth out the skirt of her dress, then drain the remainder of her wine. He had no real words to express his gratitude for the intimate act she'd just performed.
"Any other relationship matters we need to discuss? Because I'm a huge fan of your negotiation tactics, Granger," he quipped, still somewhat out of breath.
She laughed and shook her head. "No, I think we're on the same page."
Draco tucked himself back into his pants and righted his clothes. Standing, he slowly approached Hermione and cupped her cheek. "I'm happy to reciprocate, if you'd like." He leaned down and met her lips with a soft kiss.
"I'll definitely take you up on that another night. It's rather late now, so I should probably be going."
Draco nodded and stepped away so she could gather her beaded bag. A sudden melancholy seized him, watching her straighten her dress and turn to leave his bedroom.
"You could stay," he murmured quietly, freezing her progress. Hermione turned back around, bewildered.
"Only if you want to," Draco added quickly. "I only meant that, you'd be welcome to sleep here, with me."
Draco couldn't explain why he felt so hollow at the thought of her leaving him tonight. He only knew that he'd be kicking himself later if he'd wasted the opportunity to not be alone for once. But was he pushing for too much, too fast? They still seemed in this odd limbo and Draco considered just how out of practice he was at navigating relationships.
"I'll stay."
His relief must have been palpable, because she shot him a reassuring smile and pecked his cheek.
As he lay in bed waiting for her to return from the bathroom, he wondered if Hermione knew what that moment of vulnerability had cost him. Draco was raised with the belief that women were good for very specific purposes: breeding heirs, directing the house-elves, and maintaining good social standing to ensure the family name stayed on the correct side of public opinion.
A Malfoy man would cherish his wife to be sure, but he did not need a woman to fill a void in his chest, or to provide any sort of frivolous notion like, Merlin forbid, happiness. Draco knew the longing he felt for Hermione's presence would have been a foreign concept to his father.
Hermione emerged from the ensuite bathroom clad in silk pajamas she borrowed from Draco and transfigured the proportions to fit her tinier frame. It amused him that she felt the need to change her clothes in the privacy of the bathroom after letting him shag her rotten on the dining room table and then blowing him not ten minutes ago.
She gave him a shy smile when she noticed his usual sleeping attire: nothing but his trunks. Draco resisted the urge to smirk and waved his wand once to extinguish the flames around the room.
"Goodnight," she whispered awkwardly and settled flat on her back next to him. Draco usually slept smack in the middle of his large bed and the last and only time he'd shared a bed with Hermione they'd been too exhausted from their lovemaking to become self-conscious about sleeping boundaries.
At least Hermione was acting as uncomfortable as he felt. She huffed out little breaths every few seconds and made small movements, trying to lie comfortably.
"All right, spit it out," he grumbled and felt the mattress move beneath them as she jolted.
"What?"
"Whatever silly thoughts are blasting through that brain of yours."
She sighed resignedly. "I'm trying not to have this be so awkward, and now having said that, I realize how awkward I've made things and I'm hoping to not kick you in the middle of the night or snore, and I usually sleep in the middle of the bed, but—"
"Well come here then," Draco interrupted gruffly and reached out a long arm and yanked her towards him.
He positioned her with her back to his chest, nestling her smaller frame into his, and draped his arm over her waist. "Ow!" she protested as he rammed one of his feet in between hers, effectively tangling their legs together.
"There. Now you won't be kicking me," he grinned into her neck and felt her relax in his arms. He couldn't remember the last time he had held a woman this way, in his bed.
"Your bed is unfairly comfortable and of course you have silk sheets."
"Only you would complain about sleeping in luxury. Jealous? I would be too if I went home every night to your cotton and straw monstrosity."
She snorted. "Oh please, my mattress is not made of straw."
"Whatever you say, peasant."
"Prat. You wait, when I introduce you to my bougie parents, you'll be eating those words."
He heard Hermione suck in a startled breath and knew she'd clamped her mouth shut in mortification. Draco was both terrified and elated that she was thinking that far ahead. She had to be serious about him if she'd even consider introducing someone like him to her Muggle family.
I am okay with this.
"You don't have any hangings up," she quietly observed, breaking the tense silence.
Draco flicked his gaze up to his bed posts. "I removed them after my first night here. I didn't like sleeping with them closed," he confessed to the back of her neck. What he didn't say was that he awoke with the velvet hangings drawn around his bed, panicked, and ripped them off with his hands. The darkness around his bed had suffocated him when he opened his eyes, and elevated his heart rate to dangerous levels. With the curtains obstructing his view, he'd never be able to spot the exit to the room, or see if any intruders had burst in before it was too late.
Hermione turned suddenly in his arms and faced him. Their heads were mere inches apart, and even in the dark he could pick out the warming glow of her eyes.
"I should probably warn you that I've suffered from… nightmares, in the past. I wake up disoriented with my wand in my hand. But I've stowed it across the room in my bag so… well it's rare these days anyway, but I wanted to warn you in case…"
He silenced her with a stroke to her cheek. "I'm no stranger to bad dreams, myself," he whispered back.
Hermione nudged her nose to his and kissed him lightly before turning back around.
"Goodnight, Malfoy."
"Goodnight Granger," he rumbled into her hair.
Hermione was so warm. Her entire body felt perfectly heated and content, nestled in a cocoon of luxurious silk sheets and a pair of strong arms encircling her and the feel of his hard—
RINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
RINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
RINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Oh, bollocks. The shrill piercing tone of her mobile's alarm had Hermione jumping out of bed and sprinting toward her beaded bag. She tore furiously through her bag for the blasted thing, hoping it wasn't too late.
RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG
RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG
"Granger! Are you all right? What is that? It's not the wards, I don't think."
Too late.
Draco was on his feet, wand in hand, and looking for the source of the shrill disturbance. Gods, can she be any more embarrassing? He'll never invite her to stay again after this.
She tried to wave him off with her free hand. "It's—" RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG "fine it's just my—" RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG "—stupid alarm—" RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG "—just let me find—" RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG "—oh for Merlin's sake—" RINGGGGGGGGGGGGG "Accio mobile!"
The cursed device found its way into her waiting hand and she shut it off. Draco rushed to her side, wand still aloft, looking panicked.
"Granger, what's going on? What was that?"
Hermione looked up into his startled face and bit her lip to hide her smile. As adorable as he looked right now with his sleep mussed hair and wearing nothing but his boxers, she didn't think he'd appreciate the humor of this situation.
"Sorry, it was only my alarm," Hermione held up her mobile and the tension finally left Draco's shoulders as he lowered his wand.
"I'd forgotten I set it on my phone so I wouldn't miss brunch with Ginny."
"Err, right," Draco walked backwards and sank back onto the bed and heaved a few deep breaths. "Maybe use your wand next time. Bloody hell."
Hermione shuffled her feet awkwardly, unsure of how to leave things with him. Where was the confident woman from last night who'd boldly sunk to her knees and pleasured Draco so well she'd rendered him a quivering mess in the armchair?
"I should get dressed, I'm already running behind. I hadn't planned on staying over," she mumbled and made her way to the bathroom. As she passed the bed, a pair of arms grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. She found herself standing in between Draco's legs at the edge of the bed.
"You don't regret staying?"
It was soft-spoken questions like this that always caught Hermione off-guard. Draco constantly kept up that self-assured, indifferent front, but when he lowered the walls, even a little bit, it made her heart swell.
Hermione looped her arms around his neck to reassure him. "No. I very much enjoyed last night with you, once you stopped acting so foolish. I really do have to get going though."
She made to pull away but Draco tightened his hold and smirked up at her. His hands came around to grip her hips and he ran his fingers up and down her sides. He pulled her in closer and pressed a kiss to the skin of her chest at the top of her pajama top. The same pajamas she'd borrowed from him that she was seriously considering absconding with because they were obnoxiously soft and also smelled faintly of him. Craning his head up, Draco trailed a line of kisses up her neck, each touch of his lips increasing the fog levels in her brain. Merlin, this man's lips were sinful.
"It's only brunch with Weasley, you can be a little late," he murmured against her throat and continued his open-mouthed assault on her flesh.
"It's Potter," she managed to gasp out. "And what excuse shall I give her?" Hermione barely got the full sentence out and repressed a moan.
"Hmm," he hummed against her skin and she felt the vibration all the way down to her toes. "Tell her your new boyfriend doesn't feel like sharing you today."
Hermione couldn't help it, her entire body shivered at his words and the deep tone in which they were uttered.
"First of all," she said, and cursed her voice for shaking, but Draco had just taken her earlobe between his teeth. "Boyfriend sounds so juvenile, and secondly," she gasped as his hand came up to palm her breast and she lost her train of thought.
"You were saying?" his low whisper was in her ear and Hermione was suddenly very aware that her knickers were positively ruined.
"Secondly, I'm—not—I'm not a possession to share." Score one for feminism. If he thought he could pull that toxic masculinity you belong to me now tripe, he had another thing coming.
"Of course not Granger," he purred in her other ear. "I would never dare presume something so bold as to possess you, however," he kissed down from the ear to the corner of her mouth. "I'm not used to sharing, you understand," he murmured against her lips. "Spoiled only child and all that. So if I give into certain territorial urges," Draco expertly plundered her mouth with his tongue. "You'll have to find it in your heart to forgive me. I'll beg if I have to."
Oh my Godric, her knickers were now the Atlantic Ocean.
Sighing, she gently pushed him off and took a step back in his hold. "As much as I'm going to regret this, I really do need to leave. I can't be standing up my friends this early in a relationship."
"I suppose you're right," he drawled, giving her space but letting his thumbs run up and down her hips. "But you know Granger, turnabout's fair play, and I had planned on repaying you for that little performance on your knees last night."
I should be sent to Azkaban for a minimum of five years. Every single heterosexual woman with eyes would agree to this punishment for Hermione leaving behind an almost naked Draco Malfoy who had just offered to please her orally until her brain melted.
As she reluctantly Flooed straight from Draco's home to Diagon Alley, Hermione thought of all the extravagant gifts that Ginny owed her for at least the next ten Christmases. Hermione would also be sticking the red head with their impending brunch bill.
A/N: I cannot say "thank you" enough to those who read this story. Come hang out with me on tumblr if you're so inclined: heyjude19-writing.