Ch 20 Re-relapse
"…I know! And she came in so late! I pretended to be asleep, but it must have been two in the morning…"
"…What do you think she was doing?"
"More like who…"
(Loads of girlish giggling)
"…Quiet! You'll wake her…"
I'm already awake! Hermione listened to her roommates' gossip. How could anyone sleep through that?
This morning, she'd opened her eyes feeling better than she had in…well, ever. Her bed was warm, her pillows soft, and her heart was doing giddy little cartwheels in her chest. She'd stretched sluggishly with only one word on her mind – Draco. She could still smell him in her hair, a distinctive manly scent, so essentially him.
Just as she was about to roll out of bed and get ready for breakfast, Parvati and Lavender began their talk Now trapped, she stared at the ceiling to wait them out.
Luckily, she had only to wait five minutes before she was able to enjoy an empty room.
She stood up, tied her hair back in a ponytail and headed to the bathroom. She was happy. Really happy. The cheesy grin, bounce in your step, kind of happy.
When she returned to her room and began picking out her clothes, she paused to look in the mirror. I look different. Her skin seemed to glow.
She hadn't expected to feel any differently after sex. In fact, she hated all those romance-novel fallacies that said she would, but here she was, feeling different. She blushed remembering what she'd done the night before.
She hadn't meant to fuck him. I mean, she had, just not yet. After all the times she'd kissed and laid with him, she'd known it would happen sooner or later, but she never actually thought the time would come. It was always something she'd worry about tomorrow.
Well, hello tomorrow.
She pulled on her jeans and laughed. Everything she'd heard or read about sex had been wrong. Well, not everything, the mechanics of it were right, but all of those things a girl hears growing up about what it's actually like, were wrong.
Case in point: pain. It didn't hurt. God, how it didn't hurt! There had been many sensations running through her body, but pain wasn't one of them.
And awkwardness? She distinctly remembered Lavender telling her how embarrassing it had been the night she'd lost her virginity. The rhythm was all wrong and the position seemed funny. Hermione couldn't understand how that could happen. From her limited experience, there was no possibility for awkwardness. Every move was a good one.
And the biggest myth, the one she'd been most surprised to bust, was that a girl gets no pleasure her first time. Are you kidding me?
She felt sorry for all of the girls who had to suffer through painful, pleasureless sex, but at the same time, a little smug that she'd managed to do it right on the first try.
Finishing up her minimal makeup routine, she headed downstairs for breakfast.
Harry and Ron were waiting by the stairs, as always, and the group walked down to the Great Hall together, talking and joking like old times.
Hermione felt the anticipation rising in her chest that she would get to see Draco soon. I wonder when he'll want to meet next. She'd made sure to wear her message ring today. She hadn't even taken it off to wash her face; couldn't risk it falling down the sink!
"What are you smiling about?" Harry asked, noticing the stupid grin she wore.
"Oh, nothing, I'm just glad it's Sunday."
"Yeah, one more day of peace," Ron said, "by the way, where were you last night? Harry and I wanted to see how many thimbles of firewhiskey it would take to get you drunk." Both boys broke into laughter. They'd tried that experiment before – 7 thimbles.
"Ha, ha. Very funny," Hermione said. "Where do you think I was? NEWTs are only two months away!" Lying came so easily these days and studying for NEWTs made the perfect alibi.
"Right," Harry said.
"That's our little book-worm. Locked away studying on a Saturday night," Ron said.
If you only knew! Hermione thought.
The trio sat down at their table and the conversation continued. Hermione tried her best to be covert, but couldn't help glancing at the Slytherin table.
He wasn't there.
He was probably having a lie in. They had been out rather late.
Still, every time the doors opened she found herself checking to see who'd arrived.
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White.
Blinding white.
Draco blinked, unable to open his eyes under the searing whiteness. His back felt stiff and he tried to stand up but fell hard onto the tile floor. Tile?
Oh right. He was in the bathroom. He must have blacked out.
His mouth tasted stale and his stomach felt weak, but neither compared to the throbbing in his head. He crawled to the nearest toilet and vomited. Ugh.
Stripping off his clothes, he hobbled to the showers and immersed himself in hot water. His body relaxed immediately and he pushed every persistent thought out of his mind. There would be time to think later.
Half an hour passed before Draco felt able to shut off the water and dry himself. He walked back to his room toweling his hair and letting a few of his new memories play in his head.
First things first, Blaise was wrong. Hermione wasn't responsible for that lust potion. She would never have used a potion with such side effects; she would have known better. Plus, the first time they'd been together, her real first time, she'd been just as horrified as he had. No, Hermione wasn't guilty; she was a victim.
Hermione, the girl he was falling in love with.
What was he supposed to do now? None of his fantasies had been fantasies. They were just fragmented memories his mind was trying to piece together. And he had based so much on those fantasies. He'd thought he really wanted her, that she was special enough to catch his eye, but it was nothing but memories all along. Memories based on drug induced sex that had nothing to do with intimacy. Sex for the sole purpose of satisfying the lust. His feelings weren't real.
Were they?
Even with this new knowledge, his feelings hadn't changed. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps it didn't matter. He was falling for this girl and it made no difference how it started. He only hoped she'd feel the same way.
Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn't.
She had been the one who brewed the Mind Wipe and asked him to take it. She'd wanted to stop seeing him, to stop screwing him. What's to say she'd feel any different now? His insecurity grew.
She can't find out. He couldn't let her get those memories back and leave him. At least not yet. He would wait; tell her someday when the time was right. For now, he could live with the guilt.
It was a shame, though. A girl should know how she lost her virginity. Especially since she thought it'd happened last night. No wonder the sex was so good. Her mind may have forgotten all of their previous escapades, but her body hadn't.
Draco sighed. He finished dressing, and looked at the clock, dinner time. Good, he was famished.
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At dinner, Draco and Hermione spent the entire meal watching each other. They stared, winked, smiled, and blushed (Hermione, not Draco…Malfoy's don't blush!).
It was no surprise then, when Hermione felt the warmth of a message on her right ring finger.
Let's go upstairs. She blushed again. The message was so demanding.
"I'm finished; I think I'll head up early." Harry and Ron waved her off and no one seemed to notice that she practically skipped out of the room.
Not a minute later, Draco was leaving as well.
When the doors closed behind him, Hermione pounced. Flinging herself into his arms, she kissed him boldly, unconcerned that someone might see. Draco didn't seem worried either as he ran his hands down her back and up into her hair. "Come on," he said against her lips.
He attempted to lead her up the stairs, but Hermione was far too wound up to follow his direction; she kept pinching his ass and stopping to kiss him. "Control yourself," he scolded playfully, "or I shall be forced to do it for you."
She smiled slyly and slipped her hands under his shirt. "Promise?"
Draco arched a brow. Since when did Hermione get so frisky? "You've left me no choice," he said hoisting her up into his arms, bridal style.
He expected her to complain, or at least to fight back, but she didn't. She used the opportunity to wind her arms around his neck and whisper into his ear. "You look sexy tonight."
Draco was shocked. He never thought Hermione would act this way. I should have shagged her months ago…wait, I did. Suddenly he felt mildly guilty. I should tell her; she deserves to know.
"What's wrong?" she said, nipping his ear lobe.
He smiled and looked her straight in the eyes. Now's the time. "Hermione…"
"Yes?" She shook her hair from her eyes to look at him properly.
She looked so sweet and happy that Draco lost his nerve; and more than that, the impatient bulge in his pants clouded his judgment. He didn't want to start a serious discussion when, in a few minutes, he could be having sex with her. "Nothing, we're here."
He pushed open the door to their lounge and dropped her onto the nearest couch. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, retrieving his wand and warding the door.
"You have no idea," she said, grabbing his tie and pulling him on top of her. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about last night."
He groaned. "Neither have I."
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Harry rummaged through his cluttered trunk, brushing over loose socks, broken quills, and a worn-out quidditch glove before feeling the familiar crinkle of old parchment. He pulled out the map and spread it open on his bed. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Small dots appeared, first showing 'Harry Potter' in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, then extending to reveal the rest of the castle. Once the library appeared, he scanned the page for her name, but didn't find it. She said she'd be there, studying all night. He checked the prefects' study lounge, then the astronomy tower, but still found nothing. He had a sickening suspicion of where she might be, or rather, who she might be with.
His eyes sought out the dungeons and searched Slytherin House for the bastard's name.
Nothing.
So they were off somewhere together. Just as he'd thought.
It wasn't difficult to find them. He began inspecting the rooms with the fewest occupants – a boy and girl in a classroom on the second floor, two girls in the bathroom on the third, then a lone dot in a small room on the fourth, 'Draco Malfoy'.
Oh
So, he'd been wrong. Malfoy was alone (although what Malfoy was doing alone on the fourth floor seemed rather suspect). He shouldn't have doubted his friend. She was probably in some quiet room with her nose in a book, like she'd said.
Retrieving his wand and pointing it at that map, Harry began to mumble the concluding words. "Mischief man…"
He stopped. Malfoy's dot had moved. A new dot appeared where his had been. 'Hermione Granger'. He hadn't been able to see her before; they must have been overlapping.
No! He crumpled the map and threw it across the room. I thought her potion was supposed to take care of this!
"What the hell is she thinking?"
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A few days later, Draco sat in Ancient Runes, the most painfully boring class ever. I'm never going to use any of this, he thought resentfully.
"Take out a blank parchment," the professor squeaked, "we're having a quiz."
Draco rolled his eyes. This was bloody ridiculous. He pulled out his parchment and the quiz questions appeared.
1. Translate this rune: (a picture of some 'X" looking thing)
Draco remembered the professor talking about land masses, so he scribbled something down about fjords. This quiz can suck it, he thought. Marks didn't matter, just NEWTs.
Five minutes was all it took for Draco to fill in the two answers he knew and eight he didn't. He stared off into space while waiting for the rest of the class to finish.
It'd been three days since his last romp with Hermione and he wondered when he could see her again. As the NEWTs drew nearer, it was becoming increasingly difficult to pull her from her studies. And why was she so worried about them anyway? She - the smartest witch to grace these halls in decades.
But she doesn't know everything, Draco smirked, there are still things I could teach her. His corrupt mind came up with a few things he would love to teach her right now.
If she only knew about all of their previous experience she'd be much more confident in (and out of) bed. He wouldn't need to be so careful and patient with her. He could just slam her up against a wall, rip off her clothes, and fuck her. Or he could bend her over a desk in an empty classroom and pound into her without any tedious foreplay. Or maybe she could get on top and ride him recklessly while he watched her breasts bounce up and down with every rise of her hips.
Draco's eyes glazed over. He felt a twitch in his trousers but didn't move to cover his burgeoning erection. His mind was gone, lost in the land of flopping funbags. He didn't even notice that he was periodically lapping at an air-breast or that his hands circled the made-up melon and squeezed its fictitious flesh.
The other students, however, had noticed. As well as the professor.
"Cute, Mr. Malfoy," the professor said shaking her head. "Five points from Slytherin."
Draco startled at her voice. Woah, he thought. He'd just been fucking Hermione in his head. He'd lost connection with reality; completely forgotten he was in class. He tried to clear his mind of those stimulating images, but failed. His body was already aroused and he found it difficult to ignore the physical reaction.
Suddenly he was sweating. He remembered this feeling. A relapse. It seemed he'd gotten more than just memories back from the antidote. His breath was coming in quick raspy gasps.
Calm down. Think of something repulsive…er, drinking cat wee, Snape naked (shudder), dingleberries, Hermione's tight pus- wait…it was working…shit!
Failure. He couldn't get sex out of his head. In fact, he could think of nothing else. He'd nose-dived straight into the relapse.
Standing up, and knocking over his chair in the process, he fled the room. He needed her. He needed her now!
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"…which is why you must, must, be able to transfigure inanimate objects into owls, if not for convenience, then for safety. An owl could save your life…"
The familiar warmth of her message ring distracted Hermione from her diligent note-taking.
'I need to see you,' it read.
A vague message…seemingly rushed.
Messages never came in the middle of the day, especially during class. 'Where? When?' she replied.
A minute passed.
'In the hallway. Now!'
Now? Why did he need to see her now? Something must be wrong.
She raised her hand to be excused.
Professor McGonagall looked personally offended, like Hermione had committed a social faux pas by interrupting her lecture, but granted permission.
Hermione wasted no time removing herself from the classroom.
She dashed into the hall looking for any sign of pale blond hair. "Malfoy?"
No answer. The eerie quite of the hallway broke only under the clacking of her shoes. "Hello?"
Suddenly, he appeared from behind a statue. "Draco! You startled me!"
"Sorry," he growled, capturing her hands and dragging her to the nearest unoccupied room.
He looked like crap – messy hair, shirt half-untucked, tie loosened, eyes crazed. His breathing seemed anxious and strained.
"What's going on?"
As soon as the door closed behind them, Draco was all over her. He caged her in his arms, crushing her smaller body into his larger one. She felt puffs of warm breath on her forehead. "I'm so glad you came. I need you." His lips smashed against hers, kissing wildly.
At first, she let him kiss her, getting carried away in her own passion, but then the dutiful student pushed to the surface and she drew back. With hands tangled in his shirt-tails, she found herself panting as heavily as he. "Is this why you pulled me out of class?"
He nodded, but didn't appear to be listening. One of his hands gripped her waist while the other began to sneak under her skirt. His eyes followed the stray hand which began hiking up the pleated material.
She rolled her eyes, "I'm up here." Her lips pulled an admonishing smile. School rules needed to be respected (to some extent). They should really get back to class. She couldn't believe he'd dragged her out to snog.
His eyes crawled to hers and the intensity in them stole her breath. They oozed lust.
His rogue hand abandoned its quest up her skirt and moved to the back of her head to direct her into another kiss.
"Draco! Will you stop it?"
She pushed against his chest while he coiled his arms tighter around her middle. "I want to go back to class." Her voice sounded whiney and it bothered her. She cleared her throat and tried to pry his arms off.
His hold wouldn't break. "Forget about class." He leaned in with the weight of his whole body forcing her to shuffle awkwardly backwards as he advanced.
Her hands were still behind her back digging sharp nails into his forearms. She leveled her eyes. "Let me go, Draco. Now!"
He squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled a pained breath. He looked sad, like knew he was wrong, like he wanted to stop but couldn't. When his eyes reopened, Hermione felt a gush of panic roll through her. He looked resigned; sorry, but resigned. He wasn't going to stop.
"I can't." He resumed his attack on her neck, kissing and running his teeth over her collarbone.
She could feel sticky moisture wiping across her skin and she cringed.If she could just get a hand free, she could go for her wand. Her wand! Shit! She pictured it, a room away, sitting snugly in her robe pocket.
His hand resumed its path up her thigh, creeping into her underwear. His erection jabbed into her hip, rock hard, ready. His forehead pressed into her neck. It was feverish and damp. Something was definitely wrong with him.
"Don't." Her words felt lost and her body still restrained.
His mouth found her ear. "I really need you right now, Hermione. Can't you just–" Shifting arms moved like tentacles until one hand was able to slip between the buttons of her blouse. Hot fingers burned against her fear-blushed skin.
"Stop!" Panicking, she swung closed fists at his chest, ribs, and shoulders. Oh god, oh god, oh god! "Draco, stop it! Let me go right now!" She tried to wriggle free from his grip, but he was too strong. She could feel his breath on her neck; he was panting heavily. She planted a hand on his face and threw it violently back.
For a moment she was free and she turned to flee the room. The brass door knob was just out of reach when he caught her around the waist and slammed her forward into the wall.
"Hermione please, I need this!" Her arms were pinned to her sides, face scratching against the cold stone, shirt catching in its roughness.
"Ow, let me go! Let me go! Please! Stop!" Her arms, face, lips, chest, and shoulders ached with her struggle. Adrenaline pounded thick and eggy in her throat. Pulsing gushes of blood pumped in her ears. She tried to kick backwards, but he easily avoided her attempts.
"I don't want to hurt you, can't you just want this?"
Was he insane? "NO! Let go!"
He was whispering something while his hand slid under her shirt. "I should have told you. Then you wouldn't be fighting. You'd be right here with me."
Her wrists stung with the effort to struggle free. "Told me what?"
He didn't answer. One of his legs settled between hers, separating them. "We don't have to have sex." He whispered harshly, as if trying to strike a deal. "You could just–" he pushed his hardness into her lower back, "go down on me…I think that'd work."
Appalled, Hermione gulped the metallic fear back. She needed to do something; something to get away. "S-sure, yeah…let's do that." Her shaky voice broke on the last word. "I'm going to need to turn around."
He started to let go, then stopped. "Promise you won't leave?" His voice sounded frantic and she was glad she couldn't see his face.
"Yes, I promise."
Her hands were loosened and he stepped back just far enough for her to turn around. She got down on her knees and heard his groan of anticipation as he slid his hands to her shoulders. She couldn't act while he was holding her. "Open your pants," she said looking up in an attempt to be sexy.
Relief glowed on his face and he eagerly busied his hands with his belt.
Not waiting a moment longer, she gripped his calves and whispered the magic words. "Petrificus totalus."
He froze; Hermione stood. She rushed back closing her shirt and smoothing her hair. "Draco, I'm sorry. I…" And she was sorry. She could see the anger and betrayal in his eyes and she was sure he could see the same in hers.
Out in the hall, she breathed for what felt like the first time in a long time. Her shoulders slumped tiredly against the door, sobs filling her throat. She choked for breath; tears filled her eyes. One word kept repeating in her head – Why?
Conjuring a piece of parchment and a quill, she scribbled a note and headed up to the owlry to send it off.
Parkinson,
Malfoy is in the room next to McGonagall's. He's been petrified. Just thought someone should know.
As always, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. It means a lot to me that people are still interested my story. I know I may be one of the slowest updaters ever, but I do my best. I have a lot going on and not a lot of time. Never fear though, I will not abandon this story. It is so close to conclusion; it must be finished.