Eros & Psyche Chapter 2A: Draco & Hermione, a harry potter fanfic

CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User fuzzychxrx recommended the song, "A Little Less Conversation" by Elvis Presley for Draco & Hermione this go around, and I thought it a perfect complement to Draco's thoughts here. So, this chapter is dedicated to fuzzychxrx - congratulations! Lyrics for that song appear at the bottom of this chapter. Hope you'll find this song somehow and give it a listen.

Version 1.0 – 2010

Revision 2.0 – 28 December, 2017

CHAPTER TWO (#1): DRACO & HERMIONE

Draco left the door open behind him, knowing Granger would follow without question. There really was no choice in the matter, unless she forfeited – which he was betting she absolutely wouldn't do in this game.

He was hoping she wouldn't either. He definitely wanted to get as much as he could out of this time together, knowing it would be the only chance he'd ever get the opportunity to touch, taste, or fuck Gryffindor's Princess. She definitely would never let him near her again after the game concluded, loathing him as she did.

Although, she'd actually blushed with undeniable arousal when he'd answered that he'd like to eat her pussy. He'd seen the glimmer of heat in her shocked gaze. And her answer when asked if she'd like to blow him had been negative only in so far as her fears of him using the incident against her later, not because she'd detest the idea of touching him. So, maybe she didn't hate him as much as either of them believed…

He caught a flash of brilliant colour from the corner of his eye as she entered and shut the door behind her. Circe's right tit, but that dress was fetching upon her! He'd love to take it off with his teeth…

She didn't move towards the bed in the centre of the room, where he was currently sprawled. Instead, she was staring up at the too-white ceiling, clearly uneasy with coming closer.

Well, if she wasn't going to take the initiative, he would.

"Since I drew my action card before you," he explained, "the rules say I go first."

"I assumed," she replied in a haughty, defensive tone and crossed her arms, already on guard. "Please don't treat me like I'm an imbecile, Malfoy."

"Have I ever stated, or implied that you were, Granger?" She glared at him, but it was clear she was mulling that fact over, recognizing its truth. He'd never once derided her for being intelligent, merely for how she'd liked to rub that fact into everyone else's face. "I'm merely reiterating the rules," he continued. "As Captain of a team, it's my duty."

She mumbled something under her breath he didn't catch, but by the vindictive gleam in her eye, he was betting it had something to do with gagging him and lighting his hair on fire. Before she actually decided that doing so would be a good idea, he held his Deeds card up and read it aloud:

DEED: You partner must list out loud at least 10 good things about you.

There was a moment of silence, and then a deeply expelled breath and a small laugh in relief. "That's it? That's- Oh, thank Merlin!"

Yes, well, Draco wasn't too pleased with his first draw. He'd really wanted something hot right out of the gate for her, but instead was stuck with a share-care card. Who the fuck wrote up such a wanky thing anyway? Obviously it wasn't a Slytherin.

"You can come into the room," he told her, disappointment spoiling his stomach. "I'm not going to touch you this round, it seems."

Taking a moment to gather her courage, Granger stepped forward and leaned against one of the four large wooden posts that made up the bed frame. Her back was still ramrod straight with engineered bravado, though, and she remained just out of reach. Draco sighed. He hadn't expected this to be an easy win, but really!

"All right, let's get started," he said, conceding to this round being a lame duck. "Tell me how fantastic I am, princess."

She rolled her eyes at the nickname. "Fantastic? Your list of drawbacks far outstrips your advantageous attributes, Malfoy. It would be far easier for me to list your negative personality quirks instead."

He gaped at her.

Gods, she could be such a bitch sometimes!

It was one of the reasons he wanted her so badly.

"You know, you've got one hell of a sexy, sassy mouth on you, Granger." He grinned, hoping to peck her off, turning the situation on its ear just to confuse her. "I can't wait to put it to better use later tonight."

Granger arched an eyebrow at him, not rising to the bait. "So, I'm just expected to stack your ridiculously overblown ego, then?" she asked, seeming exasperated by, but resigned to the task. "Fine, whatever. You're clever."

Draco couldn't help the morphing of his grin into a full-blown, toothy smile. "Really? Do tell, pet. Just how sly and intelligent do you think I am?"

His partner gave him a flat stare. "Cunning enough to maneuver me into this game, hoping you'd be able to fix it so we could be together so you could attempt to humiliate me tonight, but not wise enough to research the cards you've been playing with enough to know the spell on them wouldn't allow such a thing. So, you're cagey and devious, Malfoy, but not what one might call ingenious."

Okay, that wasn't at all what he'd been expecting.

Clearly, she was going to insult him every time she had to praise him.

Fan-fucking-tastic. What a way to spend the next twenty-five minutes!

"Moving on," he grumbled, feeling a bit deflated by the fact that he knew these were her totally honest feelings about him, as the cards wouldn't let her lie. It bit to think she was judging the entirety of his intellect solely upon this one minor, flawed expedition this weekend. Obviously, she was forgetting the other dozen or so schemes he'd concocted over the years that had been stupendously successful at wanking her off. "As compliments go, that one sucked. You're terrible at the game of flattery. Try harder."

She scowled at having been told she was inadequate at something. As he'd expected, that definitely seemed to get under her skin.

Good, he thought, now she'd have to take the game a mite more seriously and would have to dig deep to come up with some way to succeed at the card's requirements. No more flippant backhanded compliments from that sharp tongue of hers.

Feeling confident that he'd manoeuvered her into a corner where she'd have no choice but to genuinely appreciate him, Draco gave her some space and lazily lifted his wand, pointing it at the ceiling. Concentrating on non-verbally changing its color from white to red, then green, then blue, then yellow, and back again to red, he focussed on that task while Granger gathered her thoughts.

Oddly, it seemed as if the magic of the room was struggling to keep up with his commands the faster he cast, because it kept defaulting to white between each colour modification and it seemed to pause a few moments before obeying his will. Were his incessant demands to alter the environment too great on the room's magic, overloading it, or was the room's magic shoving back at him, finding his eccentricity a waste and preferring a minimalist design instead?

Either way, it was a fun challenge and he amused himself with pushing the room's magical limits while his Hermione thought up her next tribute to his greatness.

"All right, I've got another one," she said, breaking the stalemate by taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "You've got the makings of a natural born leader…although you might want to work on learning how to be gracious and respectful to your minions, because you're terrible to them."

He barked a laugh at her audacity.

"Minions? Is that how you see my friends?"

"Crabbe and Goyle worship you," she reminded him. "Yet you mistreat them all the time, insulting them and getting them into trouble. That's not what a friend does."

Now she was treading into territory best left alone.

"You know nothing of Slytherin politics, Granger. My house isn't like your touchy-feely, hearts-and-rainbows one where everyone holds hands and sings songs together. What I have always done to Crabbe and Goyle was so I could protect them. They're too dim-witted and just vindictive enough not to end up on the wrong side of the law someday. I kick them around to keep them in line, but give them a place of importance so they don't feel like common whipping dogs either. The first few years, just the protection of being associated with me, with my name and my father's reputation, also kept them from ending up some seventh-year's bitch in the men's showers late one night. And yes, Granger, that kind of thing happens—more frequently then you probably ever assumed," he replied to her gasp of disbelief. "Don't be so naïve."

He glanced at her with a deep frown, having thought her more sophisticated than this and disappointed to find that she wasn't.

"Basically, I keep my friends safe in a hierarchy they can fit comfortably within, so no one will take advantage of them and so they'll stay out of serious trouble," he reiterated. "In return, they do me favors and accept my authority." He sneered at her now, irate that they'd even had to go here at all. Slytherin's house dynamics were a private affair, and he hated airing their dirty laundry to outsiders. "But then, I don't suppose you'd understand that type of power structure, seeing as how you come from the 'hippy flowers and sunshine' house."

She was silent a moment, contemplating all he'd laid at her feet.

"You know, I never thought of it that way before. It's the law of the jungle in Slytherin, then: to kill or be killed?" She shook her head, her riot of long curls shifting down her back. "How very sad for you all."

Ire crept into his belly, ruining his mood. "Judging my house again? How sanctimonious you are, Granger! But then, it's common for Gryffindors to be so arrogant…and woefully unsophisticated about how the world really works!"

"Cynic," she accused.

"Idealist," he threw back.

They both sighed. This was clearly not something they were going to come to agreement to anytime soon, if ever.

"Next," he growled, hating this game all ready. This wasn't turning out to be nearly as much fun as he'd hoped.

She was silent a bit longer, and he could sense a cautious tension in her. "Well," she began, and from his peripheral vision, he spied her nervous twitching, as if she wasn't comfortable admitting what was going to come out of her mouth next, "another positive trait is that you're…well, a rather handsome specimen."

Draco's battered ego picked itself up off the floor and crawled back up his spine.

Now this they could work with!

"Do go on," he encouraged her. "Enlighten me as to why you feel that way."

Clearing her throat primly behind a hand, he watched her attempt, and spectacularly fail, to remain detached this time. "Well, you do have rather classical features that provide a nice juxtaposition of the best traits in a man: a rounded jaw that is just square enough at the edge, a straight, aristocratic nose, your eyes are set at an equal distance apart and are a lovely shade of silvery-grey, your brows and lashes are a soft dark gold and give you just a tad of roguish shape, and your lips-" She paused, pinking now at the cheeks, as if her confession of his physical attractiveness was beginning to affect her, too. "-are a nice shade of rose and never chapped. Your teeth are a sparkling white, and they're straight and even. Your skin is a tad too pale, but for some reason, it doesn't detract, instead highlighting your other colorful attributes. And you're always clean-shaven, showing you care for your appearance very much, which is an appealing habit."

He sat up into a sitting position, encouraged by the fact that she'd taken that much effort to pay attention to his face, especially his lips. "And?" he prompted her to continue, wondering just how far her assessment of his outward characteristics went.

She wiggled in her seat, clearly uncomfortable laying her feelings so bare, but her determination not to lose this challenge was going to force her to continue nonetheless. "Well, your hair is a lovely shade of pale gold-white, a very light champagne colour, and the way you style it makes you appear aloof, and yet impish. The cut perfectly frames your face. Your ears lay just the right distance from your skull, not sticking out, and the lobes are detached and small."

She began fanning a hand in front of her face, as if to cool off her rising temperature. Truthfully, Draco could have used a fan then, too, for he was becoming mighty aroused by the fact that she'd observed him this well. Did the fact that she knew this much about him mean more than her simply assessing an enemy? She was being awfully thorough…

"Your shoulders are clearly well-defined," she continued, even as her face flushed a darker crimson. "I can see how adequately you are muscled in that shirt and how fine you're cut. It's rather eye-catching. You're not too bulky, but lean and sleek, like a good Quidditch Seeker should be."

"That all?" he asked, setting his wand down at his side.

Hermione turned towards him on the bed then, and opened her mouth to castigate him…but the words suddenly died on her lips as he slowly folded his hands across his belly to wait her out. The way she glanced down at them, it was as if she drawn to them against her will, and in a soft, quixotic voice, she said, "No, not quite. Your hands…they're well-manicured, strong, with long fingers just made to please-" She broke off as if the thought she almost gave voice to was too embarrassing to speak aloud. Quickly looking away again, she shifted and turned her back to him once more. "They seem made for playing the piano or composing long drafts for publication, I meant. That sort of thing."

Well, well, he thought, feeling his lips curl with the Devil's wickedness.

Some girls, he knew, judged a man's attractiveness primarily upon his eyes, others by the measurement of his biceps, and still others looked towards the curve of his arse. Granger was a hand and mouth girl, it seemed.

He sat up and scooted closer to his partner, holding his hands out in front of him, where he knew she would see them. He pretended to evaluate them. "Now that's a part of me I've never considered before…but I can see, you're quite right, Granger. I suppose my fingers would be perfect for gripping and smoothing over a hard, stiff object or for stroking and gliding across playable surfaces with intense accuracy. I bet I could definitely make things hum and sing for me with them, too."

To his amusement, Hermione flushed from head to toe, her skin turning scarlet. Her breathing quickened just a tad, too.

"What an interesting observation you've made," he purred in delight, inching closer to her. "Every time I look at my hands from here on out, all I'll remember is how much you think they were made for pleasing."

As if he'd pushed all the right buttons, abruptly Granger scooted off the bed and stood up. She scurried away towards the opposite wall, looking into the floor-to-ceiling length mirror that spanned the whole length of one side of the room, pretending to adjust her earrings and smooth down her dress. The lovely blush covering her skin, however, wasn't something so easily escaped, he thought.

"Yes, well, it's not as if you didn't know the rest, Malfoy," she said in a crisp, no-nonsense tone as she fiddled with her halter-top's tie. "You make it a big deal to strut around this place as if you're an Adonis. Every witch notices."

He stared at her in the mirror, letting a slow smirk wind its way up his face, knowing well how that expression charmed the opposite sex. "As long as I got your attention, Granger, I could care less what any other woman thought."

She went stock-still at that. In the mirror, her eyes blew wide and her lips parted in shock. "What do you mean-?" she demanded.

Cutting her off at the pass, Draco interrupted what would indubitably be an awkward question to answer at this time. She wasn't quite ready to hear his truths about her, he was sure. "That was only three things," he reminded her, using the distraction to get them back on task. "There are still seven testimonies to my amazingness left to go."

She scowled at him in the mirror. "Egotistical prat."

"Straight-laced bint," he countered with no heat, enjoying the banter.

Seeming to have bought into his diversion, and most likely relieved to allow that sleeping dragon to lie anyway, she returned to the game with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "Right, let's just get this over with." Utilizing the magic in the room, she designed a cozy chair into existence across from where he sat on the bed and then wound her way over to it and sat down. The new furniture piece matched the white-on-white décor of the room, he absently noticed. Sitting back in it and crossing her legs, Hermione lounged like a queen on a throne, a colourful and classy monarch silently demanding to be worshiped.

I will, he thought.

"Will what?" she asked, her brows lowering in confusion.

Shit, had he spoke aloud?

"Will…give you some ideas if you need them," he offered, feinting once more. "I have plenty of thoughts about how fantastic I am."

She rolled her eyes, falling for the deception. "I'm sure you do, but I don't require the help, thanks." Her gaze rested upon him once more, measuring and turning over ideas until finally, she offered up something relatively safe. "You're rich. I suppose some people might call that a credit to a person's worth."

What an interesting way to phrase such a thing.

"You don't?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She shook her head. "You didn't earn the money. You inherited it."

"And you can't respect that?"

"No, not really. I believe in earning your way in the world."

Looking at her askance, he considered having this particular conversation with her at this particular moment. Should he? It might stir up a hornet's nest.

Or it could make her see him in a different light.

Weighing the pros versus the cons of letting her in on his future plans, he decided on taking the gamble and hoping the chips would fall in his favour as a result. "What if you found out that I intended on taking that inheritance and putting it towards worthy endeavours?"

Scoffing, she chuckled. "Like building up the family fortune?"

"That would be a by-product, yes, but my plans would benefit the community as well. It would provide jobs and educational opportunities—yes, Granger, what I plan will help educate people," he reiterated in response to her skeptical glance. "I have a three-tiered strategy already worked out. I plan to expand the family business. We're currently invested in light commodities trading. First, with Father and the Ministry's help, I want to open trade with the Asian markets for healing potions ingredients in their raw, plant forms. I want to import them here. That will take several years of negotiation work, as the Eastern wizards are notoriously protectionist. Then, I'll offer the plants to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang to care-take. They can use them in their greenhouse curriculum, and in return, they'll sell me their finalized harvests. The money I give them in trade should help them to pay the professors more than the pittance they're getting now, and maybe even help them come up with some stimulating programs for the students. Merlin knows they could shake this place up a bit with an interesting guest speaker once in a while."

He shrugged, as he wasn't interested in fixing the educational curriculum, per se. That he'd leave that to the Board of Governors. His interest was in cultivating the plants.

"For the third part of the plan, I'll take the finished products and sell them to apothecaries around the world. I plan to corner the market on potion ingredient distribution. I'll have a pile of Galleons to sleep on, and a staff of hundreds by the time I retire and turn the company over to my own son." He glanced at her and grinned. "Oh, and if you dare steal my idea and try to beat me to the market, I'll spank you hard."

Literally, she sat and stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

"Attempting to catch lacewing flies now?" he joked, indicating her unhinged jaw. "I could use a crop of them, too. Notoriously difficult to get fresh, I hear."

Clamping her teeth together so hard he could hear the snap across the room, he watched in gleeful delight as Hermione Granger struggled over the concept that Draco Malfoy was more exceptionally creative than even she had anticipated. "But-… How-…" she stammered, obviously searching for the proper words to praise his ingeniousness. "That is to say-…"

He waited with bated breath for the moment she finally admitted aloud that he, her supposed 'bitterest rival', was more discerningly calculating than even she'd given him credit for.

"How...ruthlessly inspired of you, Malfoy," she stated.

For a fraction of a second, he took offense to her words. Then he realized what a great compliment she'd actually just given him and felt his lips twitch with amusement.

"I knew you'd come to appreciate my slipperiness soon enough, Granger! Only a matter of time."

She stared at him with begrudging respect, but wisely held her tongue.

Draco's heart swelled in his chest. Was this the first time she'd ever looked at him so? He was sure it was, and the thought made him almost giddy. He'd done the impossible and made Hermione finally see the real him, the man behind the throne!

The gamble had paid off this time.

It was going to be difficult to keep the miracles rolling, however. So far, upfront honesty had been the only thing to bridge the gap between them, but as a Slytherin and a Malfoy, trumpeting out the truth at every turn was going to be problematic. He hadn't been raised to be so artless; revealing his cards was a tactic, not a routine, as it was with her and her Gryffindor friends.

Maybe, though, he would have to adapt. The game would, without doubt, force from him tonight some rather uncomfortable truths anyway; it was doing so right now to Granger, and he wasn't arrogant enough to believe he'd be immune to the same magic simply because he's brought the deck into play. If he volunteered information without a fuss, though, it might go a long way to engaging her trust.

He'd have to take it situation by situation, see what happened and roll the dice, as he had earlier. There might be cause for him to open his mouth and reveal his heart, and then there might be times he'd have to keep his secrets.

This game would be won in knowing which to do at the right time.

"Seven more to go," he said, rolling them back on track.

Stubborn as a Kelpie, she shook her head. "That last compliment counts as one of your ten, so we're down to six."

Fine, he could let that one slide. It had been a spectacular commendation, after all.

As she thought up the remainder of the list, she idly tapped one painted fingernail against the chair arm. It was then that Draco noticed her nail polish tended to change with her moods and that the colours matched those bright designs on her dress. Right now, it was a pensive green the same shade as his house colours.

Now, if that wasn't a sign!

"You play Quidditch rather well, and are exceptionally good at potions," she said, counting down by ticking off the list on her fingers. "When you laugh with true sincerity it sounds nice, you have impeccable table manners, are well organized, and you smell rather pleasant on a regular basis." She counted them off once more and then nodded, satisfied at having completed the task. "There, we're done."

All of her compliments were rather touching, honestly, but one in particular grabbed his attention.

"It's French. Custom."

She blinked. "What is?"

"You said I smell rather pleasant. It's my cologne. It comes from Paris, and is tailored so that everyone smells whatever they most desire from me," he explained, hopping off the bed and approaching her. She looked ready to bolt by the time he'd bent down in front of her and leaned over the chair, putting his neck near her nose. "What do you smell?"

Her hot breath panting against his neck sent electric tingles down his spine.

This was more like it!

"Go on, sniff," he encouraged, leaning his lips towards the shell of her ear, forcing his tone and demeanor into calm control, despite the fact his heart was beginning to race just by standing this close to her. "Tell me what you smell."

Pretending indifference, she made a rather rude harrumph, not even bothering to inhale. "I don't have to sniff to know I'd smell wet, musky ferret fur."

He tsk'd. "Seriously, Granger. Give it a go." He turned and smirked at her in challenge. "Or are you too chicken to be so close? Afraid my handsomeness will overwhelm you?"

"Pah!" she sniffed with scorn. "Not likely."

To prove that she was not afraid, she leaned forward and sniffed once.

She went stone still.

Another smaller sniff.

A beat later, she had her nose pressed against the lee of his throat and was taking deep, drawing breaths in and sighing in pleasure on the exhale. When she moaned in longing, Draco thought he'd never heard a more desirable sound, and his body reacted by going hard and tight. "What do you smell, my princess?" he coaxed, placing his mouth next to her ear, caressing the delicate skin with his soft lips. "Tell me," he whispered, in a dark, enticing tone.

She began to pant, and her hands crept of their own accord to grip his bared shoulders. With a light pressure, she dug her nails into his skin.

His heart began to pound hard in his chest.

"Sandalwood, cinder ash, wine, and…red roses."

Slowly, Draco lowered to one knee before her. She quickly uncrossed her legs and tightened her hold on him, as if afraid he'd let her go, drift away, and take the beguiling scent with him. Hardly! Even without her hands on him, he'd be right here before her, as captivated by the moment and the opportunity it presented.

As he dropped down before her, her face stayed pressed to his throat and she kept inhaling, addicted to the scent and helpless but to crave it. "Close your eyes," he bid, as he took hold of her arms and pressed her back into the chair. Trembling against him, she held onto him as if afraid to let go. He nuzzled her back, enjoying the light fragrance of her hair and the way the sleek curls tickled his skin, and her touch…god, who knew her hands would be that soft! "Tell me, what do you imagine from the scent?"

"I…I see a dark room, black satin sheets and silvery moonlight spilling through an open window upon them," she whispered the secret fantasy. "There are embers in a dying fire nearby, and red wine in a glass on a table. Red rose petals are strewn all about the room and on the bed."

Ghosting his lips up the side of her throat, he sighed, pleased by her imagination. "Beautiful. That's your ideal of love-making, Granger. How you see it…with me."

"Hmm?" she asked, slowly coming back into herself, pulling away from his collar. Her grip on his arms eased up. "Love-making? With you?"

He let go, not pushing for more physical intimacy at just that moment. It wouldn't do to frighten her off. Still, he did want to set a sultry tone that would linger with her thoughts after this round was over. "The scent is meant to evoke your passion and trigger your unconscious desires for me," he explained in a soft murmur. "Black satin sheets and silver moonlight…you want me to dominate you, but you want it done seductively, not rough. A warm fire and wine…you want things between us to burn slowly and smolder before we lose all control and overindulge in each other."

Leaning back in her chair and letting him go, he watched her face drain of colour and the glassy look in her eyes fade away. The light of rationality returned, and with it came her horror. "It's a trick, some sort of pheromone response," she said, denying the attraction she obviously felt for him.

"In a way, you're right. The cologne is very rare as it's made from Veela tears. It's designed to show you what you most desire. But there's a downside to the attraction because of its key ingredient," he explained, leaning back and climbing to his feet to stand over her, feeling the throbbing ache in his groin as he did so. She'd spy his obvious erection any moment now… Backing towards the bed, he held her shimmering, dark gaze as he took a seat once more upon the edge of the firm mattress. "It also shows your greatest hope, which for many people will never be fulfilled and so will only lead them to despair. In your case, you saw red rose petals everywhere. It means you want romantic love, but you believe such a thing is impossible coming from someone like me."

"I…I don't-"

"You do. You don't trust me…which is why the fire was dying and why everything was hidden in the dark, under black sheets and the cover of night."

She crossed her arms, getting her back up once again now that they were on familiar ground. "How can I trust you?" she asked, defensively. "After everything you've said and done?"

"Isn't that what this game is designed to teach us all?" he countered. "It forces us to wonder if it's possible for rivals to see each other as anything else."

"And if it can't?"

"Well, if you go into it with that attitude…"

They stared at each other in silence, considering what had been revealed over the last ten minutes and which now lay like an uncomfortable weight between them.

Personally, Draco was feeling positive about the revelation. So she didn't trust him; it wasn't as if he hadn't already known that much. That some part of her desired him, though, had been the great mystery upon which his entire scheme tonight had hinged. Now he knew that she did, and that meant he could take this seduction forward.

She wanted him!

That bizarre, inexplicable knot in his chest—the one that had always been there, ever since the day they'd met; the one that had contained both his burning hatred and his desperate desire for this witch before him—tightened at the thought that she wanted him to make love to her.

…Alright, so what she felt for him was a repressed longing, so much so that even she hadn't been aware of it until now. Still, it was there. If she'd been repulsed by him physically, there wouldn't have been a chance for them, but this…this he could work with. All he had to do was play that angle, use physical intimacy as a way to earn her trust, and perhaps that would be the key to getting her to open her heart to him as well.

Challenge accepted.

Granger cleared her throat behind a hand. "Regardless, I'm done with my list, which means your turn is over."

"So it is." He tossed her an antagonistic grin. "Your turn, beautiful."

She cleared her throat again, and her cheeks pinked. Whatever it was she had received as a gift, obviously she wasn't comfortable with it.

"Don't go yellow on me now, princess," he teased, knowing the insult would get her back up. "What's the card say?"

She turned a venomous look at him, then brought her card up and read it aloud. When she was done, she threw it down on the floor in disgust. Draco nearly jumped up and crowed his good luck on the spot. He was going to give her a massage.

This was going to be stunning!

He toed-off his shoes and motioned for her to come up onto the bed, patting the spot next to him.

Hermione's eyes strayed to his pants, and he knew she'd finally spied his very happy erection, which he'd been sporting since the whole sniffing him thing. She gave a wary shake of her head.

"No. Absolutely no. I'm not lying down next to you on that bed."

"I didn't ask you to lie down. I indicated I wanted you to come and sit next to me," he told her. "I can't give you a proper shoulder massage in that chair, as it's against the wall. And anyway, this is supposed to be your reward for answering the question, so you know I won't harm you. In fact, I'll be forced to make it good for you."

She harrumphed, and then gave in to his logic with a regal sniff that put her nose in the air, making it clear she was not acceding to his wishes so much as to the requirements of the game. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, Granger stood and made her way over to the bed, sitting on the end furthest from him.

Apparently, she wasn't going to make any concession an easy thing tonight, reward or not…and required or not.

He crawled over to her position and crowded in against her back, positioning them so his legs were spread wide to either side of her body. She hissed and jerked away when their bodies touched and his stiffy pressed up against her spine.

"Anything the matter?" he asked, knowing full well what had offended her. Sometimes, tweaking her nose was worth the verbal beating. "I haven't actually put my hands on you yet."

"Your hands aren't the problem," she growled at him over her shoulder. "Keep that thing away from me."

Clucking his tongue at her again got her back up. "Can I help it if just being this close to you affects me?"

"Well, try harder for it not to affect you," she insisted.

He laughed.

Oh, sometimes Granger was hilarious without intending to be!

"I'll do my best, but I'm a healthy, young man of eighteen," he informed her in a droll tone. "You might as well be asking Eros not to want Psyche."

She crossed her arms and huffed in disbelief. "You only turned eighteen a few days ago," she pointed out, "and as for Eros…you're a far cry from being the god of eroticism and seduction."

"So, you didn't fantasize about us entwined in black satin sheets, surrounded by silver moonlight, then?"

She had nothing to say to that.

"Come on, Granger, by now you must be aware that the game won't let me harm you. It won't even let us lie." When it was clear she still didn't believe him, he decided to try a different tact: appealing to vanity. "You can't honestly expect me not to be attracted to you. You're singularly stunning, and not just because of the dress."

She slanted a wary look his way. "Put a pillow between us and I'll consider it."

With a sigh, he reached behind him on the bed and pulled one of the smaller pillows forward. "Will this do?"

Inspecting it before giving it the nod of approval, she turned back around. "Alright then, get to it. And don't use a heavy hand."

Grumbling under his breath that he'd love to spank her with a heavy hand instead, he moved back into position behind her, pillow tucked firmly between his crotch and her spine. It was a tad awkward, but he worked with it.

As his hands worked her bare shoulders, he grunted.

"What?" she asked, immediately on the defense.

"You carry a lot of tension."

She relaxed, slightly. "Everyone suffers some stress."

"Not like this," he argued and put a bit more pressure into loosening her up. She groaned in response, and suddenly he was thankful for the pillow being in the way. "You're entirely too wound up. This won't be pleasurable for you if you don't relax."

Her back straightened again immediately.

"And why would you care about me taking pleasure from this experience?"

It was a good thing her back was to him, because Draco was sure he'd get another earth-shattering slap from his partner simply for the eye roll that followed her question. Once in third year had been enough, thanks ever so. "Granger, if there's nothing I can say to convince you that I'm not going to hurt you, then perhaps you'll accept this indisputable fact about my motives instead-" He leaned forward and set his mouth near her dainty ear. "Massages are sensual, and it's no secret I'm a sybarite."

She actually snorted at that.

"A libertine is more like it."

Honestly, the woman could exhaust the Whomping Willow with her stubbornness!

"Harsh words from such a lovely mouth. I'll have you know I'm hardly the philandering type."

She gave a disbelieving laugh.

"Keep telling yourself that, Malfoy, but your reputation precedes you."

Rather than get into that discussion, which would lead to a losing place no matter which way he turned, he continued to knead her shoulders instead. "You're like massaging a rock." He put his thumbs into it and she groaned in response. "It's because you're tense again."

"I'm always edgy around snakes," she countered and gave another small mewing sound as he found a knot and worked it out. "I'm sure it has something to do with being a warm-blooded mammal."

"Then explain the cold shoulder you're giving me, because it's freezing back here!"

To his surprise, she laughed at that, and it wasn't a sharp sound, but one of unexpected mirth.

"Ah, so I can say something right." Was that the first time she'd actually laughed at one of his jokes? "Admit it, I'm not all bad."

She turned her head and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with suspicion, but to his relief, her lips were turned up in amusement rather than flat-lined and angry.

"You're bad...and you know it."

He rolled with it, deciding to view her mockery as an opening... Reducing the pressure of his hands, he began running his fingers over her arms in a light, teasing pattern. She shivered as he caressed over her bare skin. "Let's play another game-"

"We already are."

True, but beside the point.

He tickled the bend of her elbow with a single, gentle stroke. She jerked, but didn't pull away completely, which made him feel bolder. Leaning forward again, he whispered in her ear, "I dare you to close your eyes and imagine that, instead of being in this room, we're in your favourite hiding place." When she tossed an incredulous look at him over her shoulder, he sighed and tried again, this time without the charm. "It'll help you unwind and allow me to perform this card. You do want to get this round over with sooner, rather than later, I assume?"

Sniffing, she reluctantly did as he requested and shut her eyes.

He waited a few seconds, giving her a chance to envision the location he knew she'd imagine.

"Have you got the library firmly in mind yet?"

Granger grumbled something under her breath about bouncing ferrets and muzzles. He chuckled, appreciating her nastier inclinations. His beauty could be a real beast when she put her mind to it.

"For your information," she primly told him, "I'm envisioning being on a beach."

"A beach, really?" he asked, sincerely curious. Perhaps that explained the tan she'd once come back to school wearing after one particular summer break. "Where, and are you dressed in one of those sexy Muggle bikinis?"

She reached back and slapped the outside of his thigh in censure. "I'd ask how you know about those, but I probably wouldn't appreciate the answer." She was right, of course, so Draco wisely kept his mouth shut on the matter. "The 'where' is in Greece, on the island of Mykonos," she told him, "and as for what I've worn there...you'll never know."

The woman was a horrible tease.

"You realize that now I'm going to be imagining all sorts of scenarios involving you and what you're possibly not wearing while sunbathing," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure."

When she paused, as if finding that idea either disconcerting or arousing—he wasn't sure which, honestly—he gave her a small nudge by running the backs of his knuckles down her exposed spine, admiring the sexy cut of her dress and silently thanking the designer. "So...on a beach overlooking the Aegean Sea. You've got the image in your head, then?" Granger nodded. "Tell me about it."

She seemed to struggle with that request for moment, before deciding it harmless enough.

"Alright, but don't laugh."

"I won't," he promised.

With a resigned nod, she shared her childhood memories with him.

"Well, we've only gone there the one time, during the summer before third year, but-" She sighed in longing. "I remember every detail: the sunlight glittering off the waves, the white sand so warm under my toes, the cry of the gulls overhead. It was...breathtaking."

Taking that as his cue to continue performing her card before the time ran out, Draco placed his hands with light pressure back onto her shoulders and began gingerly kneading them again. This time, Hermione was more relaxed, and as he lulled her with a soothing massage, she talked of bright blue and white butterflies that fluttered above pockets of red poppies and yellow wildflowers that dotted the small hills and peppered the dunes, of the scent of brine carried upon a gentle wind, and of the sweet piping of the swallows that called the faces of the cliffs their home. She compared the waves to sapphires and their tops to strings of pearls, and spoke with a kind of reverence for how the sea lulled at times, and danced at others.

"Sounds idyllic," he said as she finished her tale. She was now leaning against him, her back to his chest, boneless. "Magical, even."

"It is." As she let her body relax further into him, she chuckled. "Although it pains me to admit it, you're really very good at giving a girl a massage. I haven't been able to unwind in, well, a long time."

"That's because you play too little and work too hard," he agreed.

"I can't help it," she breathed a frustrated sigh. "There's always so much to do, and it's hardwired into me to get it all done!"

"Good thing it's the weekend. You can loosen up a little," he tried to sooth her. "Just forget the world outside for now. Lean back and enjoy this."

With a reluctant sigh, she surrendered herself to the massage… which was precisely what Draco had been waiting for. He gently placed his lips over the curve of her neck and shoulder, leaving small, barely-there kisses as he went. Well, her card did say that he could use his mouth, too, and so he intended on taking full advantage of that offer. With a quick swipe, he touched his tongue to her warm skin. She was powdered with honey dust, a delicious treat he hadn't expected, and which explained how her skin sparkled under the light. Underneath it though, she tasted as if she'd just stepped out of the ocean.

The flavour had his chest going tight and sent his cock straining for its freedom.

Mine.

If anything could have confirmed for him the truth of what his heart and body had been telling him for years, that right there had done it.

"What are you doing?" she asked, going a bit stiff again under his hands.

"Lips and tongue are allowed," he whispered in her ear and then gave it a sensual nip that had her nipples going tight. Their outline was clearly visible through her silken dress. Still, she started to pull away. "I won't do more than this, though. Just this," he promised, hoping to keep her there without restraining her. She'd fight that, he knew, and the struggle could ruin everything they'd built over the last thirty minutes. "Should I stop?"

Slowly, she sat up, pulling out of his embrace. "Yes, I think that's enough for now." Despite her words, there was clear confusion in her tone. "You performed my card...quite well."

Draco put his hands up for her to see that he meant her no harm and would make no fuss.

"As you wish," he offered, letting her go.

Disappointed though he may have been, he was also heartened by the fact that, for a few moments there, they had just been Draco and Hermione, not rivals from Slytherin and Gryffindor, and she had shared a bit of her life with him. They still had many rounds left before the game ended, as well, and he could only hope that, at some point tonight or tomorrow, she'd trust him enough to let things happen between them without a card forcing her compliance.

Because, sure as hell, he wanted Hermione Granger to give all of herself over to him, and at her own free will.

Not just her body, but her heart as well.

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Musical Selection for this Chapter: "A Little Less Conversation" by Elvis Presley. Lyrics are as follows…

A little less conversation, a little more action, please.
All this aggravation ain't satisfaction-ing me.
A little more bite and a little less bark.
A little less fight and a little more spark.
Close your mouth and open up your heart, and baby, satisfy me.
Satisfy me, baby.

Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music,
Dig to the summer breeze.
It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it.
Now come along with me, and put your mind at ease.

A little less conversation, a little more action, please.
All this aggravation ain't satisfaction-ing me.
A little more bite and a little less bark.
A little less fight and a little more spark.
Shut your mouth and open up your heart, and baby, satisfy me.
Satisfy me, baby.

Come on, baby, I'm tired of talking.
Grab your coat, and let's start walking…
Come on, come on… (Come on, come on)
Come on, come on… (Come on, come on)
Don't procrastinate, don't articulate.
Girl, it's getting late…
You just sittin' and waitin' around?