Chapter Fourteen
Hermione groaned, in no mood to face to Ron. That damn man had the worst possible timing. She knew without a doubt that Harry was most likely beside Ron, just being far more subdued. She tried in vain to ignore the rampant knocking and harsh epithets being thrown through the door, telling herself that Ron wasn't actually there. She sighed and looked at Draco. His eyes were hard and cold, a stormy grey swirling in their depths as he glared at the door. He locked eyes with her, his frustration evident.
"I'll leave. I want you to apparate to my flat as soon as you're done with him." He spat the last word. Hermione nodded before pausing. She felt the bonds lift, and she sat up on the bed, covering herself modestly.
"I don't know your London address." She admitted sheepishly. In the past few days she had never gone to his place. She felt a shudder as she contemplated just how fast their relationship (if you could call it that) was moving. Her heart dropped as she thought about how Ron and Harry would react. She knew she would have to tell them. Tonight. Hastily, Malfoy helped her redress, patting down her hair to make it less of a crow's nest.
"You know where Knightsbridge is, right? It's in muggle London. Floo to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. We can walk from there." Malfoy replied. Hermione glanced at him wearily. Why couldn't they just floo to his place directly?
"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" He asked at last. His grey eyes narrowed skeptically. She violently shook her head no.
"Good. If you're not at my place in an hour and a half, I will come back to collect you." His voice was authoritative, holding no room for opposition. She wanted to protest, but her defiance was caught in her throat. She smirked and thought of how to play into his little game.
"Yes, sir." She lowered her voice, giving it a more husky quality. His grey eyes hardened as he looked down at her. Malfoy roughly grabbed her chin before giving her a chaste kiss that filled Hermione with wanting and need. He smirked, his stormy eyes glinting, before he dissapparated.
Hermione breathed deeply, hoping to quell the nerves that were rising within her. Her stomach dropped to her knees as she prepared herself for her friend's onslaught of questions. With each inhale she felt her nerves get tighter and she knew that any relaxation was futile. She could still hear Ron ranting with a lengthy list of expletives.
Hermione walked as calmly as she could manage towards the door. She could do this. She could manage a small conversation with her best friends.
I. Can. Do. This.
Without any further delay, she opened her door only to face one very pissed off red-head and a pair of angry jade orbs shielded by a famous metal frame..
Fuck.
"Hello Harry, Ron. What are you two doing here?" She asked as nonchalantly as she could manage. Ron scoffed, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"You know damn well what the fuck we're doing here, 'Mione." Ron spat. He stormed past her into her room. She fully took in his appearance and frowned. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair unkempt. It looked as though he hadn't shaved in days. Dark rings that were eerily reminiscent of bruises shadowed his dull eyes.
Harry looked better off, but barely. His hair was parted as neatly as usual, his suit was pressed and his pants creased. Yet the tears and mud at the hem as well as the scuffed shoes indicated that he wasn't any better than Ron. To anyone else who glanced at Harry, he would look normal, but to those close to him, they knew he was a wreck. Harry was a shoe collector of sorts and would never waste a pair of vintage Gucci loafers like the pair he wore presently. Yet the mud was caked on thick, as though it had been there for days. His glasses had a sliver of a crack running through them, and a small piece of clear tape was holding the metal frame together on the side.
Hermione sighed, muttering the spell to fix his glasses. One would think he'd remember it. He didn't even give her with the slightest glimpse of gratitude, merely a look of cold indifference.
"You don't even know what's going on, Ronald." She sighed. This was going to be just as difficult as she imagined it would be. He whipped his head around to look at her, his eyes a blazing fury. Shit.
"We don't know what's going on? We got a call from Ginny who filled us in on everything. So yes, we do know what's going on. That Malfoy fucker is going to pay." Ron growled. The famous Weasely temper was flaring in white-hot rage. He was seething.
"What did Ginny tell you?" Hermione inquired. She wasn't going to let her flatemate out of this one very easily. While she would have phoned Harry and Ron if Ginny was attacked, she wouldn't inform them of her personal life. Hermione felt the slightest bit of betrayal towards the redhead.
"That you were attacked at St. Mungos, and Malfoy was behind it." He spat. Wait, What?
Hermione felt her shoulders sag in semi-relief. No wonder they wanted to kill him. They thought Malfoy attacked her. She nearly laughed.
"Ronald Weasely, listen to me when I say that Malfoy did not harm me in any way. Did Ginny tell you that, or is that what you assumed?" She waited, only to be greeted by silence. That's what she thought. They had just concluded that Malfoy was the reason she was in the hospital.
"I was attacked by a patient who had some kind of spell or charm on him that caused him to become rabid. I don't know the cause, and a simple stupefy killed him, but he bit me. That's all." Hermione was so sick of this already. Granted it wasn't a normal day, it was still far too interesting for her liking.
"Then why was Malfoy there when you woke up, if not to make sure you died? What would he want with you?" Harry accused. Hermione felt severely out numbered in this battle. She sighed, gathering up her Gryffindor courage and called for Ginny to join them in her room. All of them might as well be present for her declaration. She was absolutely terrified for their reactions.
"The reason Malfoy was beside me was because I wanted him there. Before I was administered a room, apparently I asked for him to be informed of my attack. I don't know why I didn't ask for you, and I'm sorry." She looked at the ground, unable to take Ron's accusing glare.
"Why did you ask for him, 'Mione?" Harry asked softly. His voice was firm, but his eyes were softening with the whispers of betrayal. He knew. She hesitated, and in that small pause, a mix of clarification and horror dawned on Ron's face.
"I asked for him because-"
"You're seeing him. Aren't you?" Ron accused. The silence that followed hung in the air, filled with unbearable tension. Hermione could do nothing but slightly nod her head. Ron's eyes went from bulging to watering in mere seconds. He looked as though someone had told him his family had died.
But she supposed that's how he felt towards her. With that single venomous glint shining maliciously in his blue eyes, she came to the shattering realization. She was now dead to him. Her heart plummeted towards her feet. Her breathing barely contained within short, sporadic bursts. Outwardly, her expression hadn't changed, nor had her body language, but her mental and emotional state had shifted on an axis. It was like losing Ron all over again. First with the betrayal of not being able to love him enough, now with her rather startling declaration.
"I don't see how it's of any concern to you. What happens in my private affairs is of no business to any of you. Please respect that." Hermione sighed. She felt a migraine pushing its way towards the front of her temples. Ginny put a hand on her shoulder, comforting her.
"We understand that, 'Mione, we do. I'm just wondering, well I'm sure we're all wondering, is why Malfoy of all people? Sure, he's attractive," Ginny rolled her eyes at the glare Harry sent her way and continued, "but it's not like you. Frankly, We're worried about you." Ron looked as though he wanted to protest, but his sister elbowed him hard in the ribs causing him to wince and close his mouth.
"I don't know why I feel the things I do towards him, but the feelings are present nonetheless. Upon the discovery that they were mutual, we decided it would be a good idea to form a relationship of sorts to see where these feelings led us." Hermione fibbed. So it wasn't exactly what had happened, but it was close enough to the truth so she didn't feel that guilt of lying. She knew her friends were just looking out for her, but she didn't want to delve into her reasoning. Not yet, preferably never.
"Calm down, Ron. If that's her reasoning, we can't interfere." Harry tried to get his friend to listen, but knew it was futile.
"How long have you been seeing each other? Hell, how long have you been friends?" Ron demanded, shaking Harry off of him. Hermione swallowed nervously.
"Not very long." She muttered. The redhead scoffed.
"You're damn right it hasn't been that long. Just last week when I was saying how I bumped into him, you had entirely forgotten he existed. Now you're fucking each other." Ron shouted.
That was it. Hermione felt every bit of will to maintain peace snap. Within seconds she was before her seething friend, her palm stinging. A small, Hermione-shaped handprint blazed bright red on Ron's already enraged face. Hermione stared in horror as her brain fully comprehended what she had just done.
"You fucking crazy bitch!" Ron screeched, gingerly touching his cheek. Hermione glared at him. She was going to apologize, but now she felt reminded as to why she hadn't done so immediately.
"Ron, go home." Ginny demanded. Ron sputtered incredulously at his sister.
"But she's the one who's the problem!" He pointed an accusatory finger in Hermione's direction. Her eyes narrowed.
"Get. Out. Of. My. House. I will not tolerate any violence. You need to calm down." Ginny began tapping her foot on the ground, her arms folded in a look of utter impatience.
Grumbling, Ron glared at everyone before storming out of the room. The three of them waited with baited breath until the sounds of the floo echoed inside the flat. Hermione exhaled sharply, unaware she had been holding her breath.
"So, would anyone care for some tea?" Ginny asked jovially. It was still strange to Hermione how the redhead hadn't drilled her yet, but she decided it was for the best. She and Harry nodded before exiting her room. They followed Ginny to the kitchen and sat opposite each other at the small table.
Harry picked up the Daily Prophet that was sitting out, his face contorting into shades of sorrow.
"Poor Oliver. I know Olivia wasn't biologically his, but the fact that both she and Arthur were murdered is probably killing him. And it's the doing of Death Eaters no less. Poor bloke probably feels like he can't escape the War. Have either of you owled him yet?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head no, but Ginny nodded.
"I sent one as soon as I read the papers. Skeeter's a bint though. She thought that Romilda and Oliver actually had Olivia. She really didn't know she was adopted." the redhead grumbled.
"Yeah, that on top of making it sound as though Arthur was Oliver's son. Damn woman can't even get the family relations right. Is it really so hard to guess that they're brothers? I mean, Romilda is only two years older than him." Harry agreed.
Hermione smiled in amusement. The stupidity of that mindless reporter never ceased to astound her. She really did loathe that woman.
The sound of the floo brought the three friends' attention towards the fireplace. Malfoy stepped into the living room, brushing off stray bits of rubble from his shirt.
"Malfoy." Harry greeted tightly. The blond looked up, his eyes locking with the childhood bane of his existence.
"Potter." Malfoy reciprocated. His voice didn't hold the intense bitterness it used to, but the dislike was still evident.
Harry stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Malfoy seemed to hesitate for a moment before shaking it. Though no words were exchanged, both men took the gesture as a sort of peace agreement. Malfoy looked to Hermione then, effectively stealing any breath she may have had. Mercurial eyes locked onto her own, causing a languid warmth to flow throughout her body.
"I've come to collect Hermione." Malfoy answered their unspoken question. Hermione's cheeks flushed as she recalled their activities prior to being interrupted.
"I'm sorry for leaving you guys, we have a date." Hermione bluffed. She crossed the room to stand beside him. Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"After everything that's happened, you're taking her on a date?" She asked Malfoy.
"We decided that some time over dinner to talk about what happened would be best." He politely responded. He gave her an approving look for her fib. The redhead still wasn't convinced but didn't say anything further.
"Dress up, I want to take you somewhere special tonight." Malfoy whispered so only she could hear. She nodded her head, anticipation bubbling in her system.
"That's alright, Ginny. It just means we have the night to ourselves." Harry purred. Hermione felt sick as the blatant innuendo hung in the air. She really didn't want to concern herself with what they were sure to be doing later. She shivered in revulsion, and instead turned towards the fireplace. Malfoy had already left, choosing to flee the moment any hint of romanticism was on display.
After quickly changing, Hermione walked towards the fireplace, hoping to leave while her two friends were distracted. She grabbed a handful of the floo powder and shouted the address with restrained excitement.
"Mandarin Oriental Hotel."
Hermione stepped out of the green flames and looked around. She was instantly grateful she changed before leaving her flat. The Valentino maxi she wore felt like water against her skin as the red silk cascaded down her delicate form. The backless halter style was elegant, and small pave diamonds decorated the waistline. A diamond bracelet adorned her left wrist. A single drop pendant necklace was the only other jewelry she wore. A slit on her right leg went up to her thigh, showcasing her long legs whenever she walked. Nude coloured Louboutin's added the height she severely lacked.
The lobby she landed in was an alternate to the muggle one, yet just as grand. Marble floors and walls reflected the light of the three massive crystal chandeliers. The sound of rushing water indicated a fountain was behind her. The seating placed around the lobby was coloured tastefully in hues of cream and beige. Tropical red flowers were dispersed atop ebony stone tables. She turned around to admire the fountain, but found herself no less than three feet away from Malfoy.
Hermione gasped as she drank in the sight of him. She hadn't noticed it previously, but his hair was slightly damp. Nonetheless, the snowy tresses fell rakishly into place, perfecting his 'billionaire bad boy' persona. He was wearing a simple white dress shirt, but the burberry insignia betrayed its value. Simple onyx cufflinks caught the light as he lightly traced her jawline. Goosebumps spread across her skin as a shiver ran down her spine. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, betraying her sudden nervousness. His signature cologne permeated the air around them. His scent was intoxicating, and she repressed the near-uncontrollable urge to sigh.
"You look beautiful." Malfoy complimented. Hermione's inner goddess glowed from the compliment. A shy blush stained her cheeks.
"You look handsome yourself." She replied. And it was true. The dress pants he wore hung low off of his hips in that way, and his dragon leather belt was adorned with a shining Versace buckle. Gucci dragon leather loafers, along with a single ring on his pinkie helped complete his ensemble.
"My apartment is just next door. I booked one of the dining rooms for us." Malfoy placed his arm out, and she took it gracefully. She didn't even bother to go over his words. It would take her a while to become accustomed to his wealth. As Hermione walked beside him, she was grateful for the extra stability. Walking in stilettos had never been an easy feat for her. They exited the lobby, the London air cooling down her overheated skin. All around them, the muggle nightlife was in full swing. Women in expensive furs accompanied men in fine, Italian leather, while children ran along the streets ignoring the calls of their parents.
There was something about the night that evoked a sensual danger and mysterious urgency all at once. It allowed for activities that normally couldn't be pursued in the light of day. The darkness offers that veil of privacy, the feeling of something forbidden, allowing secrets to thrive and temptation to slake its thirst.
Echoes of laughter swarm around them, blending into the overall symphony of nightlife. A small girl was running away from her brother who'd managed to cover himself in ice cream. Hermione watched the display with amusement, until the little girl ran into Malfoy. The girl halted, her small auburn curls standing out against her pale complexion. Her green eyes were wide as she looked at Malfoy. Hermione glanced at her date, who was looking at the girl with a puzzled expression. He looked to be fighting an internal battle.
"I'm sorry, mister, I wasn't looking." The little girl apologized before sucking on her thumb. Her big, green eyes never left Malfoy. Hermione felt him sigh before kneeling down before the girl, a dazzling smile lighting up his face.
"It's alright, just try to be more careful. Do you know where your parents are?" He asked. She nodded, pointing towards a women behind them who was wrestling with her son. She was calling out the girl's name, Clara.
"I don't have a daddy. He died last year." Clara's eyes became very sad as she looked at Malfoy. Hermione felt her heart break for the child before her. She was too innocent, too young to experience such loss.
"I'm sorry, Clara. I'm sure your mother would love to have you back to her, though. Want to come with me?" Malfoy took the little girl's hand before guiding her over to her mother.
Hermione was watching the exchange with curiosity. Her heart warmed within her chest. A strange fondness overcame her as she watched him interact with the child. He was about to leave when Clara tugged on his pant leg. He bent down, and she cupped her mouth, whispering something in his ear. He smiled, looking at Hermione, before whispering something to her. The girl giggled, the sound like cascading water. Hermione's interest was now piqued, but she didn't disturb him.
There was something about seeing him interact with the girl that made her long for something like that for herself. Her heart ached at the sight of him smiling to the giggling girl. He said something to the mother, who gaped at him in shock. Tears formed in the woman's eyes as she hugged her children joyously. She laughed, tears falling from her eyes. Malfoy looked uncomfortable to say the least, but he didn't look surprised by the reaction. What was going on?
After saying goodbyes, Malfoy strode towards her, a weight visibly lifting off of his shoulders. He trailed a hand down her arm before entwining their palms. His bigger hand encompassed hers perfectly. He looked down at her, a wistful expression on his face. His hair shaded his intense eyes, as a smirk played on his lips.
"What was that about?" She asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.
"I just gave her mother a few thousand pounds." He replied nonchalantly. Hermione gaped, staring at him disbelievingly. Where was the Slytherin git she used to know? She never would have expected him to do something so. . .selfless.
"Why?" She sputtered at last. His eyes narrowed slightly, his other hand lightly lifting her chin. Electricity ran through her system, the heat of his fingertips igniting her cool skin.
"There was something about that girl that reminded me of you." Was his cryptic response.
"Of me?" Her voice came out higher than she intended. Why had he given that woman a few thousand pounds just because the little girl reminded him of her?
"She had an innocence that paralleled yours. The money was to ensure it stays that way." He shrugged, as though the whole ordeal was a regular occurrence.
"But Malfoy, I just don't understand-"
"Miss Granger, I will do what I wish with my money. If you have any problems with my spending habits, you can complain about it later. The money is already gone, and I wish to spend this evening with you without any anger." His stormy eyes bore into her own, spreading a heat throughout her that warmed her to the core. She nodded, suddenly feeling very foolish. She really had no place to tell him how to spend his money. She would probably hex someone if they told her what to do with it.
"Now, Miss Granger, shall we?" He asked. Malfoy held out his arm once more. Hermione revelled in the feel of his muscles through the silky material. Heat poured through the thin fabric, warming her. She kept up with his confident strides with ease. She noticed the attention he was attracting, yet her inner goddess glowed at the amount of looks she was getting as well.
"Where are we going?" They had hardly walked more than a hundred feet before Malfoy turned into another building. Hermione felt butterflies dance in her stomach as she registered where she was.
There's no way.. .
She looked at the Slytherin, but he avoided her gaze. As soon as they stepped into the foyer, she was in awe. Dark floors, silk paneling, and ambient lighting from handmade glass chandeliers captivated her. Industrial sculptures were placed beside ancient treasures creating the perfect juxtaposition. There was no denying where this was. The blond guided her through the lobby, taking her straight to their destination.
"Have you ever been here before? You have that look on your face." Malfoy spoke softly, eyeing her with suspicion. Hermione only wished she'd been able to step in here previously.
"No, but I've heard of it. Who hasn't? I mean, you live in the One Hyde Park. You could have told me." Hermione breathed. She couldn't properly form a sentence that portrayed her thoughts accurately. She blamed the building and the man to her right. Hermione still couldn't get over it. Draco Malfoy, born with a silver spoon and power, and ex-Death Eater status, lived in one of the most expensive addresses in the world. She'd read about it briefly when it was being constructed. Just a four bedroom apartment cost upwards of 250 million pounds. She knew he was wealthy, but this was like a slap in the face to realize just how wealthy her former classmate was.
For the lack of a better explanation, she was mindfucked.
Malfoy smirked at her expression before guiding her to a set of frosted glass double doors. He cleared his throat and two men simultaneously appeared and opened the door in sync. Hermione stepped within the private dining area, struck by the air of intimacy. The only table in the room was lit by a small candelabra. Red rose petals were scattered atop the crisp linen surface, scenting the air with their oils. Malfoy pulled out her chair, a gesture she didn't know he had in him, then sat opposite her. The moment they are seated, a waiter appears.
"Bonjour, my name is Claude and I'll be your waiter for the night. May I start off by presenting our wine menu?" He places the small, framed paper before Malfoy, who hardly glances at the list.
"Is Sancarre alright?" he asked her, grey eyes smoldering in the low lighting. Hermione meekly nodded her head. The waiter takes the small list and leaves.
"I've already ordered. I hope you don't mind." His grey eyes twinkled mischievously. His infamous smirk played on his lips. Of course he had. Hermione had to resist the temptation to roll her eyes.
"They have an excellent wine cellar here. It's one of the many things that attracted me to the place." Malfoy explained. Putting his elbows on the table, he clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, his eyes alive with an unreadable expression.
All at once she felt the pull and electric charge flash through her body awakening every inch of her. Nerve endings danced in awareness. It all connected somewhere deep inside of her, consuming her with its unwavering strength. She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, her heart gradually pick up its speed. She breathed deeply, hoping to calm herself down.
"Are you nervous. Miss Granger?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes." Hermione replied honestly. He leaned forward slightly, the soft lights shading and framing his face.
"Good." His voice was low, husky. Hermione blinked. What was that supposed to mean? She narrowed her gaze. What was he playing at?
The waiter arrived before she could ask for elaboration. He placed their wine before them, along with a basket of bread and oil dipping sauce.
"You're food should be out shortly." Claude says, his words accented by his thick French accent.
"Are you purposefully giving me a reason to be nervous, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked as soon as he left. His grey eyes were alight with amusement. The corner of his lips pulled upwards in the faintest of smiles.
"Don't I always, Miss Granger?" Was his reply. This time she did roll her eyes.
"Your modesty is most astounding, Malfoy." Sarcasm dripped from her words.
"It is one of my finer qualities. I've always been known for it." He smirked at her.
Oh my. Playful Malfoy is one she hasn't really gotten to know yet, and it was a mysteriously tempting side. She took a sip from her wine, needing the distraction from her overreacting hormones. It was cool, and crisp, and absolutely delicious. She didn't know her wines very well, but she could tell this was expensive.
"Don't bite your lip." He growled, his voice low. Hermione looked up, gasping at the pure lust swirling in his storm-grey eyes.
"Do you do that on purpose?" He asked, taking a sip of his wine. Hermione shook her head. He looked like he didn't believe her, but he didn't press her. That reminded her of what she wanted to ask him previously.
"Malfoy?" Her voice was small. Her heart pounded as she thought about what she was going to ask of him.
"Yes, Granger?" He was curious now, she could tell.
"I was wondering if you would be open to revising some of your. . . um. . . contract." She said at last. She took another sip of her wine before chewing on a piece of bread. She needed something to distract her from looking at his eyes.
"What would you like to change about it?" He asked. Hermione looked up at him in bewilderment. He wasn't mad? She was sure he would be. Startled by his openness, she struggled to think of what to bring up first.
"Well for starters, why can't I look at you?" She asked, genuinely curious. She had no real prior knowledge to this secret, kinky world he played in, and she couldn't go to Ginny for questions. She suddenly felt very young again for asking such a trivial thing. He didn't mock her however, and for that she was grateful. He merely answered her question.
"It's standard in a Dom/Sub relationship. Think of it kind of like how peasants couldn't look nobility in the eye, except there's a mutual respect and connection for both parties. That's the simplest way I can put it." His long, lean fingers played with the stem of his crystal glass as he spoke.
Oh, so she was a peasant now? While she'd admit that deep inside of her, a part of her clenched in anticipation, her subconscious was ranting about how sexist it all was. Yet with a single look at the blond sitting across from her, she knew this wouldn't be like his analogy at all. No. She could feel the chemistry buzzing around them as the sexual tension hung thick in the air, waiting to be noticed. She knew that she would be treated as an equal.
"What else did you want to know about?" He asked, his grey eyes cool.
Just then the waiter appeared with their first dish. Oysters. Hermione looked at the plate before her, before glancing at Malfoy. He was watching her, a bemused expression on her face.
"Have you ever had an oyster before?"
"No."
She watched as he took one, squeezed some lemon juice, and tipped back his head. He hummed in satisfaction, causing Hermione to unconsciously squeeze her legs together. He was making fun of her. Dick.
Defiantly, she took one of the oysters, and mimicked his movements. She was about to eat it when she paused. How does one eat an oyster? It was never a question she concerned herself with before, obviously. Malfoy chuckled as if reading her thoughts.
"You don't chew it. Just tip it back and swallow. I assume you know how to do that." If there was any question of him mocking her before, it was undeniably obvious now. She glared at him before doing just as he instructed. The taste of the sea invaded her mouth, the lemon nearly an afterthought. She took a sip of wine, deciding that she liked the taste.
"Do you like it?" Malfoy asked. He was gazing at her with hooded eyes. Fuck.
"I'll have another." Hermione said shyly, taking another from the pile.
"Good girl, Granger."
Her inner goddess sung happily at the praise.
"You never answered my previous question." Malfoy said before taking a sip of wine. Hermione had nearly forgotten all about it.
"I have three more questions." She replied.
"I thought you might." Malfoy muttered. She sent a glare his way before continuing.
"My first question is about the punishment. I'm not entirely sure if I'm comfortable with whipping, or flogging, or anything like that." Hermione muttered honestly. Malfoy's eyes softened.
"Granger, you have to know that there are certain things placed in that contract because it's all based on exploration. Unless you've either been whipped or flogged before, which I know you haven't, I won't take it out of the contract. And as I recall, you did have a particular fondness to spanking." Malfoy's voice was husky as he recalled the memory. Hermione blushed, as a delicious spasm deep in her belly caused her to squirm.
Claude appeared after Malfoy raised his hand slightly in the air. He came and switched out the Oysters for the entree. A lean cut of filet mignon, with buttered mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Hermione delicately picked up the platinum silverware, slowly cutting into the steak. She should have assumed that Malfoy would have good taste in food. She brought a piece to her mouth and moaned in satisfaction. It was tender and juicy, red enough for her taste but not enough to make her wonder how long it was cooked. Malfoy's eyes darkened at the sound. Hermione blushed harder.
"Don't bite your lip." He demanded. Hermione immediately released her bottom lip. Why did he always get so angry when she did that?
"Every time you bite your lip, it makes me want to fuck you." He answered her unasked question. His voice was husky, and oh so seductive.
Wow. That was quite possibly one of the hottest things she'd ever heard. Her breathing became shallow, her heart steadily racing, and she squeezed her thighs together.. All that from just his voice. That sly bastard knew what he was doing to her. He had to.
Suddenly, Hermione didn't have an appetite anymore. At least, not for food.
"Eat, Granger." He demanded. Seriously? Was he a telepath or something? How did he know?
"I know because. . ." He began. She rolled her eyes. "You're breathing changed, you're squeezing your legs together, and you're giving me a look that makes me want to fuck you here and now." Hermione blushed again. What was with her blushing so much tonight? She was beginning to get irritable, and her sexual frustration didn't help.
"I'm full." she declared. He narrowed his eyes at her.
"You've had three oysters, a quarter of your steak, two bites of mashed potatoes, and none of the asparagus. You can't be full after just that." Jeez. She wasn't aware he was counting. Control Freak.
"But-"
"No buts, Miss Granger." He interrupted. She sighed in frustration.
Almost instantly, she devised a plan. She was going to play the Sex God in his own game. She picked up a piece of the asparagus, took the tip of it in her mouth and sucked before biting it.
If she hadn't been looking him in the eye, she wouldn't have noticed his eyes widen fractionally. His eyes burned mercurial silver. Hermione was beginning to figure out that expression, and decided she liked it. A lot. It was a look of pure, uncontrollable lust. It was the reaffirmation that she wasn't the only one affected by their chemistry. He was just as affected as her.
"I've changed my mind. I hope you're done." He practically growled. Hermione looked up at him innocently, trying her hardest to keep up the charade.
"But I'm eating."
"You just told me you were full, so I'm going off of prior knowledge." He challenged. The look he gave her then nearly made her lose her inhibition. It screamed of a promise that if she defied him, she would get punished. Hermione was panting now, and very, very warm.
"But we haven't had dessert." She countered. Her voice was huskier than she wanted it to be. She mentally frowned at herself.
"You won't be needing a dessert, Miss Granger." He motioned for Claude again, who placed their bottle of wine in a bag before handing it to Malfoy.
"Merci, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." The two thanked the waiter before standing. Malfoy walked up to her, placing his arm around her waist. She sucked in a breathe as his proximity all but assaulted her senses. His arm was wrapped protectively around her. His hand on her bare back made her tremble as the heat spread throughout her body. She felt as though she was on fire. His lips teased her as he stood just inches away. She needed him. Now.
As if sensing her thoughts, a wicked smile danced on Malfoy's lips. Hermione could feel her arousal heighten from that one simple expression.
"Come on, Granger, we're going upstairs." His words held a promise, a wicked and forbidden promise that she needed him to fulfill with every fibre of her being.
With her unspoken agreement, he guided her towards the elevator.