A/N: Well, the days until my trip abroad are disappearing at an alarming rate. I'm not sure if this will be my last update until I arrive and get settled in the Netherlands. I will try to get another out before I leave if I can, but I'm afraid I can't make any promises. Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, eilonwy!
"In this world everything changes except good deeds and bad deeds; these follow you as the shadow follows the body." – Unknown
Previously: She crossed to him, her heart pounding so forcefully that it sounded like battle drums in her ears. Carefully placing her fingers on the straps holding him down, she gave him an apologetic smile that he was sure he didn't deserve.
He said the first thing that floated into his mind.
"I missed you."
A tear welled in her eye, and his arm ached to brush it away. She dropped to her knees beside him, the luscious scent of her hair enveloping him, and she trailed a finger along his jaw.
"I missed you, too."
And then she kissed him.
Chapter 19
The Calm
It was unlike any moment they had ever experienced. As their lips met, they both sighed, and it was as though the world finally clicked into its rightful place. It was like the first breath of air after a lifetime of submersion, like the feel of flame to one who has been frozen solid. She shivered against him as their past thawed away, and they were left only with this moment and the moments to come.
It was both bliss and pain, the knowledge that this… this wholeness had been here all along; it made her ache with a longing to make up for all the time they had missed. She pulled back to look into his eyes. She needed some substantial proof that this was real, besides the heavy palpitations of her heart and the way she couldn't seem to fill her lungs. She needed to know that she hadn't been the only one to feel as though more than just her lips merged with his. It was nearly excruciating to pull away, to fight the nearly magnetic pull between their bodies.
His eyes were closed, and his face completely relaxed. Her heart clenched, it appeared as though he were asleep. Was her desire for him so strong that she had imagined it all? Was he sedated and thus oblivious to the moment that had just turned her inside out? Her hands shaking, she slowly reached out to brush her fingertip carefully across his cheek. He exhaled heavily, but his eyes did not open. Perching herself carefully on the edge of his bed, her hands slowly memorized his face, tracing his angular jaw, the sharp curve of his chin, the slope of his nose, the pale, purple arcs of exhaustion beneath his eyes. His eyes did not open, and the only acknowledgement she received was the now somewhat labored rise and fall of his chest. Cautiously, she allowed her fingertip to navigate towards the destination she craved. Slowly, she explored the skin directly around his lips, feeling the quick bursts of air from his mouth against her hand.
Hesitantly, with her entire body humming anxiously, nervous energy seeming to push her finger forward, she pressed it lightly to his bottom lip.
She nearly jumped when a deep groan rumbled from his chest. His lips barely moved, and her finger did not stir from its perch as he whispered, "Are you trying to kill me?"
Finally his eyes fluttered open, and she wanted to fall into them, never to resurface. Her own eyes were wide, cautious, unsure of how much of this encounter had been real, and afraid of what to do next.
Silence echoed between them, and her finger upon his lip became heavier by the second. He waited as long as he could, uncertain of the fear and tension etched onto her face, but then he could wait no more.
"Kiss me again," he growled. Then almost desperately, "Please."
It took her half a second to realize the significance of the word, "again." And then half a second more, to crush her lips to his. Immediately, his mouth opened to welcome hers and he felt her breath against his tongue, receiving a small taste of her, before her tongue slid against his own.
Their kiss was harsh and needy—the kiss of two people who had wasted too much time already and were unwilling to forfeit anymore. It was lips and tongues and teeth fused together in a dance of regret for the past, and hope for the future. It was not soft or hesitant like her touches a moment before—his teeth bit her lip too hard, but as he sucked it into his mouth, greedily soothing the small wound—muddy blood included—she didn't mind.
He leaned his head as far forward as he could, while restrained to the table, yearning to be closer to her. In response she swung one leg over him, straddling his hips, and then there was as little space between their bodies as their lips.
They broke apart to breathe, and immediately his lips continued along her jaw, sucking and nipping, as she struggled to regain her breath. When his tongue darted out to trace the shell of her ear, she moaned and rocked forcefully against his hips.
He hissed, and his arms reflexively jerked towards her, but the leather restraints kept him from holding and touching her. He groaned; wanting nothing more than to let his fingers follow her blush as it stretched from her cheeks down her neck, until it disappeared beneath her blouse.
Noticing his frustration, her hands immediately flew to his bindings to release him, needing to feel his hands around her.
"No," he gasped.
Her hands stilled, but she couldn't stop her hips from rocking against his once more.
"Hermione," he moaned, and again his hands involuntarily lurched forward.
She took this as permission to continue and she moved again to free him.
"Don't."
Her brain was clouded with desire, and she struggled to understand his commands.
"Draco?" she whispered, her body shaking with want. It took all of her will power to remain still, his warm body beckoning to her.
His eyes were hesitant and worried, but filled with lust. He wanted this as much as she did, so why must she stop?
His eyes flickered to the straps and then back to her face, his expression apologetic.
"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his eyes fierce.
His eyes left her face, focusing on her neck, covered in purple bruises in the shape of his hands. Tortured, he longed to soothe the aches he'd given her.
She thought back to her previous encounter with him, and balked at the realization that only a day had passed. How could life change course so definitively in so little time? She bent to run her lips along the palms of his hands, pouring out forgiveness with each kiss, trailing her tongue along the fingers that had nearly taken her life. There was never any doubt as to whether she would forgive him, but for him to forgive himself was an entirely different matter. She switched her attention to his other hand, trying to convince him that she cherished his hands, no matter their deeds
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She returned to his lips, kissing him innocently.
"Don't be. It wasn't you."
His jaw tightened.
"You were still hurt because of me."
She could feel the guilt radiating from him.
"Draco, I made a choice. And I'm here." For better or for worse, she wanted to say. "The benefits far outweigh the risks."
His lips were set in a straight line. He clearly thought she was being foolish and making the wrong choice, a dangerous choice, but his selfish desire to keep her kept him from protesting. She kissed him lightly, teasing his lips with her tongue, trying to release some of the tension. Lowering her chest to his and pressing the full length of her body against him, she buried her head into the curve of his neck. She lay against him, unhurried, feeling the frantic beating of their hearts beginning to slow. There was still a burning heat in her belly, and it didn't help that her hips were clamped tightly against his, and she wanted nothing more than to feel him moving inside of her, but glancing around the ward, seeing his bound wrists, and smelling the day old sweat still clinging to his body—this was hardly the time or the place.
Something cold and hard was pressing into her sternum, and she tried to shift to ease the twinge of pain, but then she realized what exactly was pushing against her chest. Her mind immediately flew to the bottomless black bag that she'd found hidden in the back of a drawer in Draco's room at Malfoy Manor. She remembered the day she had been searching through it and found a locket, embedded with emeralds surrounded by twisting strands of silver. Ginny had shown up unannounced, and she'd had no choice, but to place the locket around her neck and hide it beneath her blouse. It had been weeks since that day, and she'd had numerous opportunities to take it off, but something had prevented her. And it hung around her neck still, pressed tightly between her body and its rightful owner.
With a spasm of fear, she knew what she had to do. She slowly lifted her body off of Draco's, but remained straddling his hips. His eyes were questioning as she reached to the back of her neck to unclasp the chain. She gently redid the clasp, and then pulled the exquisite locket from beneath her blouse.
His face was hard to read at first—miffed that she had moved so far away, then curious as to her actions. It took a few moments for him to look away from her face long enough to study the necklace dangling from her hand. Then his face was a flicker of fast-changing emotions, which progressed before she could label them, finally setting on relief. The locket swayed several times in the air, and then abruptly his expression turned to shock.
"How did you—where did—"He took an exasperated breath. "How?"
She looked up at him sheepishly. "Well…um…as you probably assumed… the Ministry has taken over the Manor, and Harry was in charge of the search."
His face abruptly turned harsh at the mention of Harry, and she sped up her explanation. "I convinced him to let me look through the library before they started confiscating things, but then I ended up in your room, and I don't know what came over me. I just wanted to know more about you, I guess. So…" She blushed profusely. "I was looking through your drawers… and I saw the false compartment at the back of one drawer, and…well…I found the bag. I still have it. I was… afraid of what the Ministry might have done with it, if they had got it."
His face broke out in devious grin, halting her rambling.
"Looking through my drawers, were you?" He smirked.
Her blush deepened and she nodded. He considered her carefully before nodding. "That's fine, I suppose… that is, as long as I get the same courtesy some day." His grin was positively wicked.
She huffed timidly, but nodded. It was only fair. His laughter eased her embarrassment, and relief bubbled up to the surface. She had feared his reaction, worried that he might be angry for her snooping. She moved to place the locket in his bound hand.
"No, wait," he cautioned. "I want you to keep it."
"Draco… I couldn't." She shook her head.
"More specifically," he added, his eyes smoldering, "I want to put it on you."
She made to protest again, but the intensity of his eyes stopped her, and her hands moved of their own accord to undo his bindings.
"Do you have your wand?" he asked, worry creeping into his tone.
She nodded, retrieving it from her pocket.
His face was grim. "If I should lose control…" he began, "do whatever it takes to stop me."
She nodded, going back to work on the restraints that bound him from bicep to wrist.
"Promise me, Granger."
She released his first hand, and then raised her gaze to him.
"I promise."
A minute later, both his arms were free, and he stretched his hands, rotating his wrists to get back the feeling. She watched him carefully as he observed his own movements.
He sighed, closing his eyes, enjoying his release. Her lips quirked upwards at the corner. She had hated seeing him strapped down-- it had actually physically pained her-- so the release was joyous for her as well.
His eyes opened, the deep gray dark and churning, and a hand came to rest lightly on each of her thighs. A chill ran up her spine, as his hands began moving up her sides, his touch burning and soothing at the same time. He raised his torso, so that they were once again chest to chest, with her legs to the sides of his lap. Her hands immediately tangled themselves in his hair as he bent to place a kiss on her neck.
He stared regretfully at the purple smudges that circled her neck, placing kisses along the bruised lines. He was gentle, not wanting to cause any pain, but wishing he could kiss away the evidence of his weakness. He placed a final kiss on the center of her collar bone and then reached backward for her hands. He took the locket from them, undoing the clasp. She thought she might have seen a small tremor in his hands, but if it was there, he concealed it with ease. His eyes locked with hers as he placed the necklace around her neck, his eyes absolutely scorching as he fastened the chain. His fingers followed the chain around her neck, down to the locket that lay visible directly above the swell of her chest. He covered it with his palm, his long fingers stretching from the base of her neck to the tops of her breasts, and she could feel the cold metal through the fabric of her shirt.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"No," he said, his voice husky, crashing his lips to hers. "Thank you."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He wonders why the boy hasn't been to the Ministry in days. It is his job, is it not? Of course it is. He remembers the fury in the boy's eyes as he'd hunted down the Dark Lord's servants like a savage in the days after the war. He remembers the smug satisfaction the boy had had when he'd managed to finally managed to track down the Dark Lord's right-hand man.
He wishes he could have seen Potter's face when news arrived that he, Lucius Malfoy, had escaped the Ministry's clutches once again. He settles for seeing the frustration on the brat's face, day in and day out. It's wearing him down. Each day he appears more haggard, more desperate.
But in the most recent days, a different kind of desperation has haunted the wizarding world's so-called savior. Three days ago, something changed. He'd rushed to St. Mungo's like a mad man, only to exit late that night with his two sidekicks and the Lovegood wench. Now he barely sleeps. He prowls through the same neighborhood over and over, standing for hours on end facing the same building. And then he follows her.
He follows her to the grocery store; he follows her to the bank, to the park.
Lucius wonders what the world would think if they knew the leader of the Golden trio was a stalker. He's beginning to think he has more in common with Potter than either of them thought possible.
And so it goes. He watches Potter as Potter watches her.
He waits while Potter waits.
They are waiting now.
Waiting for her.
Waiting outside a building that appears to the human eye as nothing more than an abandoned department store.
But Lucius is tired of waiting.
A/N: Don't hate me for ending it there! I'll try to have the next chapter out before I leave for Europe (seven days left)! I've recently opened a new livejournal under the name JKRsunkmyship. If you want to keep in touch while I'm abroad, hear how my trip is going, and find out how the story updates are coming along, feel free to add me as a friend!
