Chapter 19
Draco readjusted his stance for the fourth time in the last thirty minutes. He'd originally been leaning lightly against the wall just to the side of the Floos, casually trying to look as if he just happened to be standing there. But after a few late stragglers heading home from the Ministry looked askance at his quietly intimidating presence (he was a Malfoy, he couldn't help it) (also, he was an Auror, but it was probably mostly the Malfoy thing), it occurred to him that he might be looming a bit too much like a Death Eater. So he'd put his hood down and looked around trying to find a bench he could casually sit on. Sadly, there wasn't one with a good view of the fireplaces that didn't also make it look like he was staring directly at them. Which he certainly was not doing!
He briefly considered casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself so no one would notice him at all, but quickly dismissed that idea as not being the least bit casual, which was what he was trying to appear to be. It almost occurred to him that if you have to try so hard to be casual, then you are not succeeding, but he was concentrating too hard on angling his body just so, and so that recriminating idea never gained form.
Since their last date, he and Hermione had only exchanged a couple of quick owls. She'd explained that a work emergency had come up, which had her working late and traveling at odd hours. As an Auror, he certainly understood about how work emergencies could take on a life of their own (sometimes quite literally), so he reminded himself to be patient. (He reminded himself at least a dozen times a day, actually.) There was a very brief period of time when he wondered if he had somehow done something wrong. Could she be avoiding him? But the messages delivered by the Ministry owl seemed perfectly normal and apologetic, if a little harried and brief. So he quashed that idea, determined to focus on the next step of his courtship.
He didn't know why today he'd gotten it into his head that he just had to see her for a few minutes, but when he found himself anxiously trying to determine if it was too soon to send her another owl, he figured enough was enough.
He had finally settled with his head down, his hands in his robes pocket, and his back against a column in the middle of the floor, right along the path she—well, someone, anyone, really—would take to get to the Floo. He'd just settled and congratulated himself on finding the right spot, when he was startled by footsteps coming from behind the column he was leaning against (i.e. the wrong direction)—footsteps he recognized instantly by their light, brisk step.
As she passed him, her curly hair bobbing behind her in time to her step as she approached the nearest fireplace, he realized she wasn't going to notice him at all before she left. So much for casual.
Merlin, he'd missed her! More than he ought to considering he'd just seen her a few days ago, and they'd only had a handful of dates and one kiss. But what a kiss! He'd gone home with his stomach tied into knots for hours, and had had plenty of fuel for some particularly colorful dreams and even more enthusiastic daydreams. He didn't think it was too much to hope she'd felt the same.
And that was really why he was going insane waiting to hear something more substantial from her.
Lately, he couldn't seem to think clearly. He was constantly being distracted remembering her body warm against his, the taste of her tongue, the feel of her lips. More than once he almost tried to get Potter to talk about Hermione, just so he wouldn't feel all these things pent up inside him. But then he remembered that if he talked to Potter about Hermione he'd start to get ideas, like that they were chums who talked about their feelings or something awful like that. So he restrained himself. He was awfully good at restraining himself.
He reminded himself of that as he called out to her, his voice echoing in the empty cavern of the after-hours Ministry atrium. "Hey Granger! Working late today?"
Hermione turned abruptly, surprised by his sudden presence behind her. Her hand had flitted briefly towards her wand, a habit he noted and approved of, before lowering, empty, back to her side, a gesture that also pleased him. "Malfoy! Draco, you scared me."
She glanced around the empty room almost nervously before taking the few steps that brought her to where he was still lounging against his chosen spot. In one arm was clutched a stack of files that she was presumably taking home to continue working on, and with her other hand she pushed a couple frizzy locks out of her face. It was clear she'd had a long, hard day, and her gaze was tired.
When her eyes came back to meet his, though, they lit up, the wide smile on her face at seeing him relieving the uncertainty that had been building in his chest over the last few days.
"Were you just leaving?" she asked him politely, looking around again at the empty room. "It's awfully late, I know, but I needed to prep some documents for tomorrow."
When he just answered with a shrug, she started to apologize, "I'm sorry I've been so busy. I tried to send you a note whenever I had a few minutes to myself." A tinge of color came to her cheeks, as a thought occurred to her. Her smile grew even further, as she guessed, "Were you waiting for me, Malfoy?" She seemed pleased to think it, and so the immediate denial that he tried to summon (what some would call a lie) never fell from his lips.
Instead, an answering smile, just short of a grin, came unbidden to his face. He couldn't help himself. She was standing there, waiting for him to admit that he'd been purposefully waiting to catch her on her way home. As if he had nothing better to do than impatiently reposition himself every few minutes on the chance she was going to walk by. Well, he certainly wasn't going to admit to anything.
Although, it was worth whatever the potential embarrassment, just to be standing together with her looking up at him like that. She was happy to see him, and that made the butterflies (Bats? Hippogriffs?) in his stomach take wing.
Instead of answering her question, he pointed out, "It's 'Draco' now, isn't it?"
"Draco," she amended, the amused smile still on her face as she drifted much closer. "You were waiting for me, weren't you?"
"Maybe." He didn't mean it to sound coy. He was just distracted, because now she was close enough to touch. Of their own accord, his fingertips found their way to grasp her lightly by the waist, gently tugging her even closer. To his surprise and pleasure, she came easily, and he splayed his hands across her hips, wishing suddenly she had those jeans on so he could stick his hands in her back pockets again. Did skirts have back pockets? They ought to.
"Did you need something?" she interrupted his musings, playfully.
His eyes were focused down on her lips, which explained the next unplanned words out of his mouth. "I do have a question."
"Hmm," she hummed, taking a moment to register his words. "And what's that?"
"Am I supposed to let you know when I'm going to kiss you?" The K-word vibrated between them with intention and excitement. Draco could feel it like arcs of magic spinning between them. He thought he felt her tremble just a little bit, and he wasn't sure if it was in memory of the last kiss or anticipation of the next one. His voice suddenly got heavier, darker, as he added, "Or are we at that point where I can just kiss you whenever I feel like it?"
She blinked, as if trying to clear the heavy fog that suddenly seemed to be overtaking her limbs. But all it did was clear her vision for her to stare at his mouth the way she had felt him staring at hers. "Is there such a point?"
He grinned at her, a bold, predatory type of grin that set her heart suddenly beating a rapid pattern inside her chest. "I hope so. As I expect it's going to be rather tiresome asking for your permission every time I feel like snogging you."
Her breath was caught in her throat, so all she could answer was, "Hmmm."
"Which, by the way, is pretty much all the time."
The heat from his hands that were now wrapped around her waist seemed to be making her a bit light-headed. When she spoke, her voice was breathy, and her barely audible words fluttered up against his face which was suddenly very close. "And now, as well?"
"Particularly now."
The words were barely above a whisper, but she felt them like a strange thrumming that shot straight down into her stomach. She was certain she was about to feel his mouth on hers, and she could already feel her body straining towards him when something clicked inside of her brain.
"Wait," she said, pulling back, her voice no longer wispy and thin. She looked up at him, sudden amusement in her dark eyes. "Are you asking me to be your girl?"
He blinked at her, confused. "What?" He'd been millimeters away from what he'd been thinking about all day (week?) and getting his brain to suddenly process her words took a little bit of effort.
"You're asking for a blanket statement of permission to kiss me," she stated, matter-of-factly. He wasn't entirely sure that was what he had meant. He wasn't entirely sure he had meant anything, actually, but she seemed rather excited about it. And her swotty lecturing voice that sounded like she was about to teach him something did the strangest things to his libido. Something that certainly had never happened in school.
"I'm assuming you mean exclusively," she continued, still looking up at him with bright eyes. "As in, you don't want me to give anyone else even the occasional one-day pass."
He may not have understood how exactly they got on this topic of conversation, but he understood the metaphor. "Definitely not." His stomach churned a bit at the image that flickered through his mind of Hermione on a whirlwind kissing tour of a new bloke every day. It would be followed, he promised, by a whirlwind assassination tour of a new bloke every day.
"And I assume you wouldn't be kissing anyone else, either."
His eyes narrowed at that, wondering at such an obvious statement.
She leaned forward, her lips dangerously close to his again. His vision was filled with her, his head swimming with the smell of her so close. It was with effort he refrained from tightening his grasp on her waist even further.
"No one else, right?" she asked, suddenly unsure again at his lack of response.
Ah, he understood now. And the clear, open look in her eyes prompted his honesty. He lowered his forehead to rest lightly against hers and when he spoke, quietly, his voice was strangely reverent. "No one else even exists." She couldn't know how true that statement was, and for how long it had been so. It was a risk to reveal so much so soon—too soon. "There's only you."
He was beyond being able to make sense of his actions. And he couldn't seem to hold back whenever he was around her. There was a desperation he'd never felt before to share this secret he'd kept for so long.
When she whispered, "Yes," against his lips, he barely comprehended it, suddenly overwhelmed with the feel of her mouth on his, the taste of her lips. She leaned against him and if he hadn't been supported by the column at his back they both might have toppled over. The kiss was sweet and soft and soothed the achy, ragged pieces of his heart that had been climbing with doubt after he'd left her at her front door those nights ago.
Her tongue teased his, seeking warmth, sliding across his lips, and he felt himself wobble, marveling at the myriad of things she made him feel—this crazy, amazing, wonderful girl he'd known and underappreciated for most of his life. When she nibbled on his bottom lip, he shook with the fierceness of his need to have her as his own, to keep her. She made him feel empty when she was gone but bursting with light and energy when she was in his arms.
His hands cupped the back of her neck to pull her closer to him, his mouth angling to deepen the kiss. He felt, rather than heard, the low moan vibrating in the back of her throat. The sound was swallowed up but it bounced around until it hit into that ball of lust that seemed permanently lodged in his gut.
In the dim distance, he might have heard the scattering sounds of several papers hitting the polished marble floor, but he didn't have time to think on it because Hermione's arms came up around his neck, and he was occupied with worshipping the little pink tongue that tickled around his teeth and the soft lips that pushed and pulled against his.
The sound of the Floo being activated startled them both. Still locked in their embrace and breathing heavily, their heads swiveled to look at the fireplace that still sparkled with the tell-tale green sparks indicating that someone had just left. Someone had just walked by them snogging heatedly in the atrium of the Ministry and then left by Floo.
Scratch that. Someone had first magically picked up all the papers Hermione had dropped from the file she'd been holding, stacked them neatly on the floor beside her, then walked by them snogging heatedly in the atrium of the Ministry and then left by Floo.
Looking back at Hermione, Draco was immediately distracted by the thought that Hermione looked flushed and her eyes were still heavy and glassy. She looked freshly snogged and quite pleased about it. And that thought had him leaning over to kiss her again, his normal sense of propriety over being caught snogging at work completely absent, when her hand on his chest stopped him.
"Melinda," she explained, breathlessly, nodding at the files on the floor. "My assistant. She was leaving right after me."
He didn't respond to this explanation but filed the information away, along with the image of the note he was sure Hermione hadn't spotted yet sitting on the topmost file. It was a drawing of a flower. A flower that spoke of approval and pride. He didn't know much about Melinda, but he rather thought he liked her based solely on that little drawing. She was cheeky and subtle, understood flower language and clearly had good taste in men if she was going to approve of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.
The thought made him grin as the strange feeling of having someone's approval coursed through his body. So he leaned down and kissed Hermione again, absurdly pleased with himself at having somehow managed to secure exclusive kissing rights to her utterly delicious mouth.
She tried to protest, or at least pretend to protest, but she was no match for the firm pressure of his lips against hers. Nor the feel of his hand in her hair cupping her head to him. Nor the feel of his other hand considerably lower than her head, also pulling her towards him. She wondered, briefly, if she was going to have to get used to the slippery hot feeling in her belly that made her knees feel weak. Could one ever get used to such a thing?
When he released her mouth, nibbling along her jawbone, he felt her sigh against his neck. "How much longer are you working late, Hermione?"
"We're almost finished," she answered. "The negotiations are tomorrow, and we expect the conflict will be fully resolved. My—my," she stuttered because his wandering mouth had found a particularly sensitive spot below her ear. She closed her eyes, absorbing the feel of his soft kisses. He really was serious about kissing her. She smiled, turning in to kiss his cheek. "My schedule should be back to normal next week."
"So what are you doing Sunday?"
"Draco," she laughed. "That's not even next week."
"You said negotiations were tomorrow. Then you'll have all day Saturday. So how about dinner on Sunday?"
"Okay, I can do that. Do you need me to pick the place again?" Reluctantly, she let his arms drop from around her as he bent over to pick up her files.
"I thought maybe we'd stay in this time," he said, easily, as he placed her work burden back into her hands.
"Oh?" She tucked some hair behind her ears as she settled the files against her ribs where she'd been carrying them before carelessly dropping them all over the floor. Her heart thumped a little bit in her chest as her mind couldn't help but fast forward to what spending the evening alone together might actually entail. For the briefest instant she had a flash of panic, thinking the opposite about what she'd been feeling not moments before in the heat of Draco's embrace—that she wasn't ready for that next step.
"I was thinking of cooking, actually." His face was straight as he delivered this line, noting but not commenting on her sudden look of reservation.
Hermione's eyes went wide with disbelief. "You cook?"
"Yes, of course," he said, only the tiniest bit of arrogance peeking through. "I'm quite talented at any number of things." His eyes flashed down at her with something that sent a thrilling shiver down her back. She gripped the files tighter, absurdly concerned she might drop them again. She chose to ignore the innuendo.
"But Draco Malfoy, cooking?" Her voice was colored with doubt, prompting Draco's short, clipped affirmation. "I have to see that!"
The wide grin that suddenly graced her features told him that she was just poking fun at him. "And do you wear an apron, and everything?"
He frowned, suddenly. "No."
"Oh. A shame, that." And she winked at him, turning towards the fireplace to grab some Floo powder. "Can't wait for dinner, then!"
"I'll owl you with my Floo address, you can come by after work," he called to her as she was preparing to depart.
"It's Sunday. I won't be working," she reminded him, turning.
"Oh, right," he said, feeling foolishly like she was going to think he was just saying things to delay her departure. Which was almost as bad as her thinking he was just saying silly things in general.
With a laugh she bounded back over to him, and standing on her toes, she kissed him. It was quick and playful, just a quick brushing of her lips on his. But as he pulled his head back, he realized he'd closed his eyes, and Hermione was laughing at him, walking back to the Floo.
"I think I'm going to like kissing you whenever I want, Draco Malfoy." Then, in a flash of green, she was gone.
And Draco was overcome with the sudden realization that he had himself a girlfriend. Sort of. Right?
*-~o~-*-~o~-*
A/N: Well, here you are. I know you've all been patiently waiting. I promise that while it doesn't look like much in the way of chapter updates, there's a lot of work going into this story from behind the scenes. I've gotten a lot of help from several sources to plot out the next half of this story, and I'm so excited about the things up next for these two lovebirds. Thank you all for your lovely reviews and reminders, I love them all! Here's some shameless advertising:
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