CHAPTER THREE: LET THE FUN BEGIN
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Wednesday, October 29, 1997
Wednesday night came much too quickly for Hermione's nerves. She was pacing back and forth in her Head dormitory room, trying to calm her somersaulting stomach.
She and Malfoy had constantly been playing a coy, almost naughty game of "look-see now, look-see not" with each other all day Monday and Tuesday, whenever the chance presented itself – which was too often for her sanity's sake, she admitted. He'd also reached out and touched her arm lightly in Herbology Lecture-Lab this morning, careful not to let anyone know, but with a look that reminded her of their last meeting in the greenhouse section. Now, she was overheated with the thought of what they'd agreed they'd be doing here, in her room, all alone tonight. Merlin, was she really going to let Draco Malfoy lay his hands (and his mouth… and other things) upon her as if she were some common slapper? Was she seriously going to give her virginity up to the boy who had, until this term, made her life a living hell with his saucy mouth and scathing attitude? What on Godric's great toupee had she been thinking when she'd made such a "smashing" deal with him, anyway?
You weren't thinking, a small voice in her head reminded her, at least not with your brain.
If only their schedules weren't nearly identical (well, all except Monday afternoons, Tuesday mornings, and Wednesday afternoons… when she took classes which Draco did not... but many of which Teddy Nott did share with her, though), then she could escape Malfoy for just a little while to regain some measure of reason.
And once more, even remotely considering the other Slytherin boy she was crushing on suddenly made her head loop-de-loop. The looks Theodore had given her in Ancient Runes Lecture on Monday afternoon told her that he knew something was going on between her and Malfoy. His weighty scrutiny – it felt as if Nott were trying to determine if what she felt was a passing fancy for his friend or not - had made her feel almost guilty; as if she'd made an obvious blunder that she should immediately apologize for and correct by picking him instead.
That kind of thinking was ridiculous, of course. Teddy had never indicated that he was interested in definitely pursuing anything with her. Sure, he'd stared at her an awful lot, and he had flirted with her once, but on the flip side, "The Gryffindor Playboy," Cormac McLaggen, had done the same thing to her several times last year, too, and it had meant absolutely nothing to the guy. He continued to slut around even while pursuing her. Boys his age were fickle like that.
So, no she had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, she reminded herself. As a free agent out at market, she should feel absolutely no doubts whatsoever about hooking up with Malfoy, right?
… … …
On second thought, maybe this arrangement was one big, huffing mistake. After all, she was clearly undecided upon where her favor lie, and for that reason alone, she should just tell Slytherin's "Prince" that she'd changed her mind… Yes, that was what she would do! She would explain to Malfoy that the deal was off, and apologize profusely. She'd even throw out the offer that they could hopefully be friends in the future. That should pacify him some, and satisfy propriety at the same time.
But wait… what if he got angry? After all, it had been her idea for him them to do this. Would he think her some kind of tease? Worse, what if he then told everyone in school that she'd propositioned him for sex? Would he do that? She bit her lip in consternation. Malfoy was known to be vindictive and cruel.
But what else could she do? She wasn't sure how she felt about him aside from her body's traitorous reactions to his presence. Did that mean something more, or was it just good, old fashioned teen lust motivating her? She wasn't sure.
No, she had no choice. She'd have to tell Malfoy that they couldn't do this, that there would be no fooling around between them.
Right… she had a plan and she was sticking to it!
… … …
Hopefully.
At precisely nine o'clock, there was a knock at her door. Having finally tired herself out from all the pacing, Hermione had sat down on the edge of her bed to calm her frayed nerves. Now, she jumped up, tried to soothe herself by shutting her eyes for a second and picturing the ocean waves moving in and out… which reminded her of the beach in France… which reminded her of a gorgeous body in a pair of low-slung swim trunks…
GAH!
The knock came again, softer this time. She moved to the door, swallowing back her fear and grabbing onto her Gryffindor courage, and opened it.
Malfoy looked every inch the part of the most gorgeous man on the planet. He wore a pair of obsidian-colored woolen slacks, his leather dress shoes were neatly polished as always, and his shirt was a button down silk in charcoal grey. He looked freshly showered, and the smell of his spicy-fiery cologne wafting through the air between them (it reminded her of cherries in dark, rich port wine simmering over a stove) nearly sent her reeling. His hair was immaculate, his welcoming grin playful, and his eyes as he took her outfit in (she'd gone with a simple pair of hip-hugging Muggle dark black jeans and a tight crimson-colored sweater that showed off all of her curves on top) were keenly appreciative.
The lesser side of her that liked flirting with danger (the one that roared to attention whenever Harry was in trouble or when she was needed to do something sneaky, but otherwise stayed safety tucked away behind a strong veneer of discipline and structure) suddenly liked the way that Malfoy was looking at her, and surprisingly it didn't want him to stop.
Locking her knees for extra fortitude, Hermione smiled, and indicated that Draco should come in with a wave of her hand. He accepted the offer and glided past her into the room. "Nice," he commented, looking around. "If I'd known the perks in advance, I would have tried harder for Head Boy."
She shut the door behind him and locked it for their privacy, and directed him towards one of the two oversized armchairs in front of the fireplace. "Come and sit down," she bid politely, hoping he hadn't caught on to the uneasy tremor in her voice just then. Apparently he must have, for his smile vanished in a heartbeat and instead, he watched her carefully as he effortlessly slid into the furniture with a fluid, perfected grace that made her insides perform cartwheels. His eyes were clearly questioning whether she was having second thoughts.
"Do you want some water or snacks?" she asked, playing the perfect host, trying to distract herself with "busy work," as usual.
Malfoy tilted his head with a slight nod. "Water, sure. I'm not hungry yet, though. Maybe later."
She tried to quell her stomach at his words – what did he mean by 'later' exactly? How much later, and what would they do in between now and then? These questions ran through her head incessantly as Hermione stood and went over to a small table next to the wall, where a carafe of water and two glasses had been preset aside by her earlier in the evening. She'd also gone down to the kitchens and politely asked Binky, a house elf of her acquaintance, to make her some snack food up for a "late night study session." What had been apparated up to her room within minutes of her request had been an adequate nibble tray, containing fresh cut apples, carrot sticks, half a dozen sharp cheddar cheese slices on stone wheat crackers and bite-sized red licorice pieces (her favorite candy, Binky knew).
She filled both glasses, and popped a red licorice into her mouth before turning back around to hand Malfoy off his water. As the glass passed between them, his fingers caressed hers intentionally much as they had when they'd reached for the same potions ingredients, and Hermione nearly sloshed the contents into his lap in response. He chuckled, and sipped from his drink, watching her intently as she crossed back to her seat and hunkered down.
A cheerful, crackling fire had been waved magically into being as soon as she'd come from dinner earlier, and at that time, she'd lit a few candles in wall sconces to give them enough light and warmth to talk by. She'd wanted ambiance for these 'lessons,' to encourage intimacy, and as she looked across at Draco, apparently it had been 'mission accomplished.' He seemed perfectly at ease with the atmosphere… which was in complete disharmonious contrast to Hermione's comfort level at that particular moment. Her restless anxiety was made all the more pronounced when she found herself speared upon his silvery-bronze gaze, the reflected orange and gold flames from the fire darkening and warming his typically cold, chrome irises. In that moment, he appeared to be the Devil himself, sent to tempt her innocence away… which was sort of the truth when she considered the situation, really.
Sod-all, as Ron might exclaim, what had she gotten herself into?
"What are you sucking on?" he asked, breaking the silence.
She moved the licorice over in her mouth with her tongue so she could reply. "Candy. It's on the tray over there, if you want some."
"Or you could just share yours instead," he offered teasingly with a smirk.
She chewed up the licorice quickly and swallowed fast, and he laughed good-naturedly. It was a very nice sound, she realized, and it helped to break some of the tension in the room. Perhaps that had been his plan all along? It would be a very Slytherin-like thing to do.
"You look lovely," he complimented sincerely, scanning her again with his eyes. "Red's your color."
She blushed, completely on unfamiliar terrain. She reached for a polite, sincere reply. "And you look rather dashing in that shirt," she returned, feeling her cheeks simmering at a slow boil. "Dark grey is good on you. It brings out your eyes."
His bemused smile stretched from ear to ear. "Specifically dark grey, hmmm? Now I know why you never thought me attractive in my school uniform all these years, Granger. Apparently, green and black aren't in my color wheel."
She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. Draco Malfoy was teasing her - and not in a shocking, ghastly way, but in a laid-back, entertaining way. Would the miracles ever cease? She guessed that she'd just have to wait and see…
The implication of that thought slammed into her.
Apparently, she had unconsciously made up her mind in the last five minutes to sally forth into the mysterious, strange world of full adulthood and woe-be-damned her earlier misgivings. And right on the trail of that revelation, a familiar, pleasant feeling returned – the one she'd embraced during Umbridge's reign in Fifth Year, when she'd secretly frateralized Dumbledore's Army. The thrill of rule-breaking took hold and she knew immediately what that meant: she was prepared to mentally throw herself off the ledge of sanity and dive into the realm of the exhilarating unknown, unconcerned with later regrets or shame.
She sighed internally.
Really, what was the big deal? Malfoy had expressed interest, and she certainly wanted him the same way. Since they were both adults now in the Wizarding world, they could legally do anything they wanted as long as it was consenting. And wasn't it about time for her to shed her childish habits and take steps towards discovering her womanhood anyway? Many of her classmates had already done so, and she was terribly behind the curve there. Besides, the next two months with Malfoy could be fun, the little voice in the back of her head wheedled. His skillful tutelage would assure she learned everything she needed to know about sex, and it could actually be a rather enjoyable experience, too. After… well, hopefully, she and Draco could even remain friends.
Oh, fiddle sticks! Like it or not, she already knew that she was doing this. She'd firmly decided on that course of action the night they'd talked in the greenhouse. There was no going back now.
"So… um… how do we… start?" she asked, feeling her blush scald her face. She looked at him through her lashes, embarrassed to her core.
Draco looked at her over the lip of his glass. "We have started," he explained. "Lesson one: learning to relax. This is part of the experience."
Did that mean that he wasn't going to try to kiss her tonight? She wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She chose a "safe" route instead. "Oh."
He put his glass down on the small end table between the two chairs and then leaned back, crossed his legs in the European fashion, and rested his arms on the cozy chair. "So, tell me something about you," he requested. "Something that no one else knows."
She swallowed and fidgeted under his stare. "I don't see how baring my soul to you is supposed to help me relax," she commented, a tad disconcerted with the request.
"It creates intimacy between two people to share a secret, Granger. It's also rather cathartic," he retaliated. "Here, I'll show you: I'm ticklish behind the knees."
She suddenly burst out into good-hearted laughter. "That's not a big deal," she admonished. "I'm ticklish behind the knees, too."
He grinned devilishly. "Ah, now I know your weakness."
"And I know yours, too," she countered.
He cocked his head to the side, and leered at her. "But I won't mind it if you touch me there, Hermione."
She felt her breath catch at the use of her first name, and at the tone he's spoken it in – almost a caress of sound. No one had ever said her name like that before. She swallowed again, but couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from his. There was a pause of a long minute between her and Malfoy, where all they did was stare at each other, as if feeling the other person out for intention and reaction.
"I like to kiss. A lot," he admitted next, seeming to relish the charged atmosphere he'd created in the room. His voice dropped down in register, as low and smooth as honey, and his eyes shuttered to half mast seductively. "To me, it's most intimate thing two people can do. I could kiss your mouth for hours."
Hermione's eyes moved to Draco's lips as he spoke, watching the words form. His tongue dipped out and wet his lips when he'd finished speaking, and she shivered in response. Her arms came up around herself suddenly - not to ward him off, but to contain her own hungry impulses.
"I like to be bitten," he relentlessly continued. "On the neck especially. I like to be marked by my partner. And I like to mark her back in the same way."
Her eyes slid to his long, pale neck, following the curve down until it dipped into his collar, and she imagined what it would be like to sink her teeth into that flesh – not with enough force to hurt, but with enough pressure to illicit a response from him. She felt heat flow in between her legs and squirmed in her seat.
"I like to talk to a woman during sex," he confessed, his half-hooded eyes glittering darkly in the firelight. "Let her know how she tastes and feels. I like her do it back to me, too. And the more explicit, the better."
Her eyes swung to his lips again, and an image of them parted in ecstasy made her heart patter maniacally. She could imagine that silky voice of his whispering dark promises in her ear with words that shocked her to even think them.
"What do you like, Hermione?" he asked deliberately, pinning her down with that direct gaze of his.
It took her two tries before she could put sound to her thoughts. "I don't know. I've never done any of that before. But… I think I'd like to learn all about those things."
He nodded once. "Good."
When he stood and crossed to her quickly, Hermione's heart leapt into her mouth. Draco reached down and presented her his hand, palm side up - an offering to join him. She wasn't sure what exactly he planned, but she was willing to throw caution completely to the wind right then, so she took it and he hauled her to her feet. He didn't touch her except to keep a hold of her hand and rub his fingers lazily back and forth across her knuckles, and for several long minutes, they just looked at each other again, no words spoken between them. What he was doing to her fingers, his enigmatic gaze, standing so intimately close – all of it was hypnotic. The man Draco Malfoy had grown into breathed sex appeal, and she was drawn to him like a fairy to flame.
After another minute, Malfoy finally let her hand go and stepped back, turning to look at the furniture in the room. Decisively, he pulled the table in the middle of the two chairs out, careful not to tip his glass of water sitting on it. He then pulled both cozy chairs together. Waving his wand over them, he transfigured them into a single love seat couch. Hermione gasped with the ease in which he completed such a difficult task and he tilted an arrogant smirk her way. He turned on his heel and made for the buffet, putting together a plate of food, and then stepped back towards her, tugging the small end table so it abutted the couch. He put his plate of food down, removed his shoes and socks, and hopped onto the couch, resting his back against the high backed arm. He spread his legs, and patted the fabric in between.
"Come sit with me," he offered, and she hesitated a moment out of habit. He seemed to understand, and smiled reassuringly at her. "Trust me, Granger."
She stared at him, trying to decipher his intentions through body language. So far, he hadn't done anything more than speak a few words to her (true, they'd been sexually exciting thoughts, but still… they were only words). He seemed to want to honor her request for them to take things slow, so she'd trust he wouldn't push for too much tonight.
She began to move forward when he stopped her. "Take your shoes and socks off," he motioned towards her feet with a nod of his chin. "And sit with your back to me."
She complied, feeling odd stripping just those innocent pieces of clothing away. Inside her abdomen, a riotous party was going on, and her ears began ringing gently as her blood pressure increased. Her feet were chilled the instant they touched down on the stone floor and she hurried over to the couch and scooted in as he directed to escape the cold.
It was the oddest sensation being pulled into his embrace again, knowing she was giving herself into the arms of her enemy… But he wasn't that anymore, was he? Voldemort was gone, and Draco wasn't a Death Eater anymore (and even then, he'd switched sides soon after taking the Dark Mark - at the urging of his mother, the Order and Dumbledore - to help their side gather intelligence, like Snape). In the final battle last April, he'd even taken down Dolohov and his uncle, Rastaban LeStrange in one-on-one duels – a feat that was worthy of some amount of awe, given the skill and experience that the two older Death Eaters had. Of course, Malfoy had done all of it so his father would be released from Azkaban by the Ministry (he'd forced a deal out of them in return for his cooperation), but still… he'd been cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot this past June, and even praised by The Daily Prophet as something of a dark hero.
No, he wasn't the enemy anymore. He was just a student trying to finish out his Seventh Year, like her, hoping for a future with good prospects and a relatively "normal" life (in comparison to everything they'd all gone through for the last seven years). She had to start thinking of him in that way, instead of how she'd come to see him over the last several years.
Draco's hands came around her waist and clasped in front, lying inert on her abdomen, and it occurred to her then that this was really happening between them. It was all too surreal. He further wrapped his long legs around hers and then leaned forward a bit and pressed his nose into her hairline. "Relax, Granger," he breathed against her, tickling the back of her skull. "I want you to be comfortable with me, with us touching. That's all. Nothing nefarious."
Hermione willed her limbs to let go, and she felt the tension melt out of her as she closed her eyes and just allowed herself to feel instead of think, leaning back into his chest fully.
"That's it," he soothed, flowing with her into a more comfortable position.
They sat quietly like that for however long Hermione did not know – half an hour, maybe - but it felt so right. His strong body cradled hers protectively, gently and she reveled in being held by a man who clearly wanted her. When he shifted his arms finally, Draco's cologne wafted again towards her nose and she inhaled deeply, loving the spicy musk. She felt him reach down towards the table and then something crisp touched her lips. She opened her eyes and looked down at the apple slice he held before her. He didn't say anything, just held it there, patiently waiting. She opened her mouth, leaned forward and bit into the offered fruit, taking from his hand with a trust she didn't know she'd ever been capable of giving to him before. When the slice was finished off, he reached for a carrot stick, and they repeated the scenario. When she finished swallowing the last of the carrot he reached over for his glass of water and presented it to her. She looked at it carefully, seeing where his mouth had been pressed before and realized that she'd be drinking over the exact same spot. An indirect kiss!, she thought, and smiled to herself at the silliness of the notion, leaning forward to take a sip.
When she'd indicated that she'd had enough to drink, he put the glass back down on the table, then wrapped his arms about her again, leaning his head down again towards her neck. As his nose came into direct contact with her skin, she shivered.
"Cold?"
She shook her head at his question. "Still a bit nervous," she admitted. "This is all new for me… you know, touching a man. And then, there's… us. I'm still getting used to the idea that we're not yelling or insulting each other."
He chuckled. "Yeah, you're a real shrew when you want to be, Granger." She lightly elbowed him in annoyance and he laughed. "But I kind of like that side of you. Feisty and gutsy. It's attractive."
She blew a stray hair out of her face. "I never liked it when we fought, Malfoy. You always knew just what to say to make it really hurt."
He was quiet for a while, and then placed a gentle kiss to her throat. "Sorry."
Hermione's heart slammed into her ribs. Had Draco Malfoy just apologized to her for all the years he'd been a prat? Was she dreaming? "Then, I guess I should apologize, too. Not just for yelling, but for the time I hit you in third year," she offered. "There's never a call for violence, no matter the provocation."
He snickered. "You're forgetting that hex in fourth year…"
She sniffed. "Don't push your luck, blondie."
He laughed again, and she joined him this time. It felt good, and helped to put them both at ease with each other finally. "So, you still have yet to tell me something about yourself that no one else knows," he coaxed.
She swallowed, her mirth disappearing in an instant, mortified at the idea of letting any of her few shameful skeletons out of her closet. Would he think badly of her if he knew some of the things she'd done?
"Ever stolen anything?" he asked, as if reading her mind.
She nodded tentatively. "Once." She could almost feel his amused grin.
"Really? Fess up."
Biting her lip, she squeaked out the truth quickly. "A Muggle book, in primary school. I forgot to return it to the library at the end of the year, so I took it home, afraid I'd get in trouble for not turning it in on time. I never gave it back."
He laughed. "Granger, that's hardly stealing. How old were you?"
"Seven," she stated. "And it was stealing. I took something that didn't belong to me. It was wrong."
"For Slytherin's sake, you make it sound like you robbed Gringotts," he teased. "You were a kid and probably afraid of getting whipped."
She shook her head. "My parents didn't hit me, Draco."
He went silent for a few seconds. "Never?"
The way he said it made her think that perhaps he hadn't been so lucky. "No," she replied softly, realizing intuitively that this was one of those touchy subjects that people either agreed upon or not. "I rarely got into trouble, and when I did, my parents would send me to my room for a while to think about it. When they cooled down, they'd both come in and talk to me about what I did wrong and I'd lose privileges."
In the long silence that stretched between them after her explanation, her heart sped up again. Had she said the wrong thing?
"You were lucky then," he finally commented, but she could feel the anxiety creep back into him through his muscles, and she knew then that Malfoy had been the recipient of physical punishment as a child. She wondered how often, and to what degree? From his demeanor, she guessed it was bad.
It was time to deflect the conversation before things became too tense between them, spoiling this evening. "When are your Quidditch practices this term?" she asked. Draco was now captain of his Slytherin team, as well as being their Seeker, so surely this would be a safe topic for them.
He seemed to perk up a bit, the gloom melting away as he shifted to sit up straighter. "Monday nights from six to eight, Wednesday afternoons from two to four, and Sunday from ten to one."
"Wednesdays, hmm? You'd better take a shower before coming to see me, then," she replied, tracing her fingernails over one his hands resting on her abdomen, curious to see how it felt to touch him back.
Draco bent his lips next to her ear and this time she did feel the grin that stretched across his face. "Don't like sweaty men, Granger?" he teased in a whisper.
Her breath caught at the sensation of hot air blown against her sensitive skin once more. "I've been friends with too many Quidditch players," she explained, trying to concentrate on her thoughts and not on the feel of a pair of lips on her. "You all smell after your work outs. And you're usually pretty dirty, too. Boys and girls alike."
His hand twisted suddenly and grabbed the one of hers that had been stroking him lightly. The movement was so fast that she hadn't even realized it had occurred until he brought her hand up to his mouth. He placed small kisses on her fingertips, and from the corner of her eye, she watched his long lashes brush against his cheeks as his eyes closed. This time, Hermione forgot to breathe entirely, so transfixed was she with what he was doing.
When he pulled away, he glanced down and over at her from around her shoulder and smiled at her. "Maybe I'll just come here for my shower from now on," he jokingly threatened, tilting his chin towards the far end of the room, over the lip of the couch towards where the door to her private bathroom opened up. When she made to protest, he cut her off. "Hey, you've got all the best benefits in this hen pad of yours," he ribbed with a nonchalant shrug, sitting back again. "Besides, it's a better alternative to showering with a bunch of monkeys in the locker room. Hairy guys are really not attractive, Granger."
She shook her head and grinned. "You're simply outrageous, Malfoy."
He leaned forward once more and waggled his golden eyebrows at her over her shoulder. "If I recall, I'm not the one who came up with this 'outrageous' plan for us to hook up, Hermione. This was your idea."
She blushed hotly at being reminded of her boldness, and he laughed again.
"Oooh, not just any old red, but cherry red is definitely on your color wheel, Granger. Makes me want to throw you down and shag you right now."
"Cute, Malfoy," she sniffed, both exasperated and amused by his scandalous lack of class. "They should make a doll out of you and sell it at Christmas. I'm sure it would be a big hit with pedophiles the world over."
He swooped down and pressed a quick smooch to her cheek, and then he leaned back fully, pulling her tighter against him. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy you, Hermione." He sounded very pleased. "I really am."
They spent the next few hours talking.
She told him of her family – what her parents did, that she was an only child who'd always longed for a younger sister, and of her days in Muggle elementary school. In return, he told her a little of what it meant to be a Malfoy – the social obligations, the training he'd received from a very young age as to how to behave in different types of company, and the traveling around the world that they took on behalf of his father's business or for personal political maneuvering. He avoided, she noted, actually talking much about his parents' personalities, and she guessed from how he spoke that he, too, was an only child.
He'd then asked her about her plans post-Hogwarts, and she let him know that she was considering working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to help overturn archaic laws, especially in regards to the rights of magical creatures and wizard marriage laws that disfavored women. In return, she learned that his family was wealthy enough for him not to work, so he'd held aspirations of eventually joining a professional Quidditch Team in the hope of being bumped up to Nationals. He was, he admitted, undecided on whether it should be England or France's team he tried for.
"Don't you have to be a citizen of a country to join its team?" Hermione asked, her knowledge of Quidditch woefully lacking. She admitted that sports weren't high on her priority list for learning; she knew just enough to follow the game and some of the more famous teams and players, but that was about her limit.
"They changed the rules three years ago to encourage international cooperation," he informed her. "Players can now switch around to whatever team they want to contract with on the pro circuit. But even if they hadn't, I could still try for England and France. I have dual citizenship."
She blinked in complete surprise, and turned her upper body around as much as possible to look at him. "How did you manage that?"
The smirk was back. "I was born in Paris while my parents were there for summer holiday. Where were you born?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Whitley, near Godalming in Surrey. You were born in France? Wow. I had no idea. When's your birthday?"
He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "When's yours?"
Honestly, the man was insufferable! For every question she asked, he came back with one of his own, as if he only traded pieces of information about himself in exchange for something from her. "September 19th, 1979."
"You cougar!" he teased with a faux gasp and mock wide eyes. "Taking advantage of a younger man! You should be ashamed, Miss Granger."
She turned completely around and sat down on her knees, facing him, indignant. "I am not a… a… what it is you just called me! You're my age! … Aren't you?"
Draco shook his head, snickering. "Almost nine months younger. June 5th, 1980." He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her body down flat against his chest, and pressed his mouth to her ear again. "You scandalous cradle robber."
She blinked in shock, completely unprepared to be held in such a fashion. Their cheeks were touching, and she could feel his heartbeat under the palm of her hand, which was resting between them, against his chest. Her own heart leapt like a mad rabbit in response, and she froze like a deer caught in wand light. "That... that makes you… a Gemini," she commented, not really believing in the whole Astrology thing, but grasping at straws to deflect her embarrassment and inadequacy.
He nuzzled his nose against the skin of her face. "And you're a Virgo," he replied. "Intelligent, loyal, efficient, organized – a devoted perfectionist. It fits."
She pushed a little back to put some space between them, knowing she was dangerously close to doing something rather rash. "I forgot that you actually did well in Divination classes with Trelawney. And what about your traits?"
His smile was slow, melting. "Charming, adventuresome, witty, fun."
She raised an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, Geminis are dual personalities with some pretty bad traits, too."
His smile dropped, as his eyes took in her lips. "Only if we don't get what we want."
Hermione swallowed and spoke before she could filter her mouth. "And what… do you want?"
Draco's response was instantaneous and as reckless as her question had been. "You." His knuckles came up to stroke her jaw. "I want you, Granger."
She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he didn't. Instead, he just stared at her, his fingers roaming over her face, touching the curve of her cheek, as if he were memorizing her. He slowly ran his right index finger up and over her left temple and forehead, down her nose, and she closed each eye as he feather-light caressed her lids and lashes. His hand moved down and he let his thumb stroke her lips and chin, and graze along the bottom of her jaw line with tender fascination. Enthralled by this side of the man she had never seen before, Hermione was unable to pull her gaze away or move. She enjoyed the light stroking on her skin, marveled that Draco Malfoy could ever be this gentle, and felt her heart tug in response.
No, you have to be careful, she cautioned herself. This isn't permanent.
When he'd had his fill of touching her, he slid his hands back down to rest on the curve of her spine, and they stared at each other, once more silent. His eyes were neutral, careful, but she could sense that he wanted her to touch him back, so she gave in to both his desire and her curiosity. Using her left hand, she traced a path along his face similar to how he'd done with her, and she discovered him for the first time this way. He had a small beauty mole on the left side of his face, near the bottom of his ear that she'd never really paid attention to before. He had a small nick scar under the right side of his jaw, probably from shaving. A slim ring of white circled around the pupil of his grey eyes, the color of which darkened perceptively as they moved outwards towards the edge. His chin squared off a bit at the bottom, and his lips were absolutely delicious.
She took the exploration further, tracing her fingers over the shell of his right ear, flicked his lobe with her nail, trailed down his neck over his pulse, slid over his Adam's apple, and finally dipped down into his shirt where the top button had been purposefully left undone. He tilted his head around as she needed to gain access, watching her the whole time.
When she finished, she put her hand back at his shoulder and locked gazes with him once more. They stayed like that for a long time, just looking, not speaking, drinking each other in with their eyes.
When the bell tolled midnight, echoing throughout the castle like that fateful din that had called the fairytale Cinderella back from her night of magic, Hermione instinctively knew their time was up. Reluctantly Draco pulled his hands away from her.
"I need to go now," he murmured, but it was clear to both of them that neither wanted this night to end. There was a pause of another minute where they didn't move, but finally he sighed and pushed her up into a kneeling position, working his long limbs out from around her. He stared into the fire for a few seconds, his brow lowered in confusion or concern – she couldn't tell which – then he stood and gathered his shoes and socks, and put them back on. Nervously, she stood at his side and waited for him. When he was ready to go, she walked him to her door. As she reached for the knob, he stopped her with a hand on hers, turned her quickly and embraced her tightly, cradling her head into his neck.
"Good night, Granger," he whispered against her hair, pressing a small kiss on her temple. "See you in classes."
As he pulled away, she felt as if he was deciding something without her that would affect this… arrangement… between them. This felt like a permanent goodbye. Was he thinking of ending things before they had even begun? But she'd liked what they'd done tonight. It felt good and right. She didn't want that to go away. Panicked, she tightened her grip on his forearms. "You're coming back on Friday, aren't you?"
Malfoy stopped, frozen with clear indecisiveness, and she knew then that she'd been right. He had been having second thoughts; he had considered not coming back. Another minute ticked by before he sighed resignedly. "If you want me to."
Hermione nodded a little more eagerly than she wanted to let on. "I'd… like that. Very much."
That easy smirk wound its way back up his cheek, making her catch her breath once more. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and in typical Gemini style, he had switched moods once more in record time. "Me, too." He opened the door, looked both ways, and then turned back and gave her a wink. "Dream of me." Then he was gone, his footsteps light to avoid echoes in the empty hallway and prevent Filch from finding him out after curfew. She watched him until he turned a corner and was out of sight, and then she shut the door quietly, locking it back and leaned against it, letting out a relieved sigh.
He'd be coming back.
Friday suddenly seemed much too long a wait.
CHAPTER FOUR: INNOCENCE
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Thursday, October 30, 1997
Draco got back to his Common Room at twelve-thirty in the a.m. without incident, a smile plastered to his face the whole way. Tonight had been brilliant! Granger was… amazing. He'd been after her for months now, but it only, truly dawned on him tonight when she'd been pressed up against his chest on the couch that she'd wanted him, too, and certainly with an equal longing. That she wanted to know about him, too… all those insane questions, her exploration of his person… well, it only heightened the craving he had for her. So, they hadn't snogged or shagged, but that hadn't been his intention anyway. He'd wanted them to get to know each other so she would be comfortable with his touch, and he was now satisfied that he'd accomplished that goal.
Yes, she'd trusted him to touch her, to feed her, to tell him some of her secrets, and he'd touched her in ways that he hadn't expected to, nor ever done with another woman. He'd gone with the moment and done what felt right, and it had been bloody incredible. All that had lacked was the kissing. But that would come, in good time…
Lesson one had been an unequivocal success.
"Home finally," Teddy drawled sarcastically from one of the leather couches as Draco made his way down the stone stairs and across his Common Room towards the dorms. "Late night snack?"
Draco turned and threw himself down in an arm chair across from his friend, who, he noted, was reading ahead in his Charms book, again. "Had my first date with Granger tonight," he admitted, smiling like a fool at the memories.
Teddy put his book down and gave Draco his undivided attention, turning those oddly mismatched eyes upon him. "It went well, I take it?"
Draco nodded, lolling his head back against the leather. "It went… She's… damn. Why didn't I notice before how fucking fantastic she is?"
Teddy shrugged, looking down at the floor. "Because you weren't ready to."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he admitted. He knew he wouldn't have appreciated Granger even if he had considered her before this year; the war had changed him by several degrees.
For one, he'd found out that a lot of his friends weren't really Purebloods (Teddy's mother was dragged before Voldemort and revealed as Halfblood by that good-for-nothing fuck, Avery, and Blaise's Muggle-born father had finally crawled out of the woodwork, after having successfully dodged his ex-wife's Black Widow leanings for years, to protect his son during the final battle). At the time, that knowledge had screwed with his understanding of the world, because he liked Teddy and Blaise, and he wasn't about to give up his two best friends simply because he'd uncovered the adverse circumstances surrounding their births. However, when it came out that Voldemort hadn't been Pureblood either… well, that had been the topping on the cake. And it had finally convinced him that all of the prejudices he'd espoused previously were founded on lies. Sure, blood purity still mattered to a limited extent (he'd have a Pureblood witch for wife someday, as was expected of his station in life), but he'd learned over the last year to take his women – and his friends - as they came, no matter their background. Granger was no longer persona non grata as far as he was concerned.
Besides, he'd been able to refine his sexual technique over the last few years, most especially since this past spring. Without that added experience, he might have blown things between him and Granger too quickly. Timing really was everything. She wanted a teacher, which he was sure he wouldn't have been capable of being prior to this summer, as he'd always been in it for the quick shag prior to dating Fay Dunbar in late June (that girl had taught him all about "staying power" and pleasing girls during their short two week fling). Granger would benefit from that experience now, which was what she'd asked for and why he was being given this shot at all.
"Are you going to be open about it?" Teddy asked him, drawing him back into the here and now. "Your… relationship… I mean."
Draco thought on it. He wouldn't care either way, but he suspected Granger might have a problem with them going public at this point. "It's her call. I'll wait for her cue."
He looked over at his friend when there wasn't an immediate response. A reserved man by nature, Ted was known to play his cards close to his chest. Tonight though… he seemed lost in thought, a small frown decorating his mutt face. "What's up?" Draco asked him, an unfamiliar twist gnawing at his guts suddenly as a strange idea took root in his head. "You don't have a thing for Granger, do you?"
Teddy looked up sharply, his eyes piercing. "Just wondering what your dad would say if he knew."
Draco shrugged nonchalantly, even though inside he felt a little sick from the very thought of his father finding out about his predilection for Muggle-born Hermione Granger. He may have changed his opinions about non-Purebloods, but Lucius had not. The old man was as stubbornly set in his outmoded bigotry as ever. Draco knew that he was seriously tempting his Malfoy inheritance already just by still associating with Teddy and Blaise (luckily, if he got cut off, he could just rely upon the trust his grand-mere Black had set up for him; it gave him the chateaux in Marseilles for a residence, and was a large enough sum of galleons for him to comfortably live out the rest of his life with, if need be). "Lucius is just going to have to deal. I could care less what he thinks."
He felt Teddy's knowing stare burn holes into his skull. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Why did you cut that deal with the Ministry to save your father from Azkaban, if you hate him as much as you profess?"
Draco kept himself from squirming under the direct questioning by zipping back up that well-practiced Slytherin indifference costume he carried around with him in his head. "For mum. She loves the fuckwit. And I got tired of hearing her cry all the time."
Which was a load of total bullshite, of course. Despite how awful his father had treated him on occasion growing up, Draco still loved the man. Hell, until this year, he'd actually even looked up to him, adored him as all good victims did their tormentors. And the damnable truth was that it was hard to hate one's parents, no matter their flaws, and on some levels, Draco still craved his father's approval. He never stopped admiring his mother, either. But Teddy didn't need to know any of that.
His dark haired friend measured his response, as all calculating Slytherins were known to do, and Draco held up his act under the scrutiny, holding tight to his apathy to protect himself. He may think of Teddy as his brother on many levels, but some hurts shouldn't be shared with anyone.
"Well, I'm off to bed now," Teddy announced casually and stood, as if he hadn't just been interrogating his friend's very soul, but rather had asked about the weather outside. "Night, Drake."
"Night," Draco called back over his shoulder as Teddy meandered past, used to his friend's bizarre ways by now, and hoping he'd been a convincing enough liar not to have this conversation come back at him someday. Teddy practically had a photographic memory.
He waited until his housemate's footsteps echoed away, and only then did Draco relax. Staring into the magically lit fire in the giant Slytherin Common Room hearth, he allowed himself a private smile.
"You're coming back on Friday, aren't you?" she'd asked.
Hell, yes, he was! And they'd be starting on lesson number two, which would definitely test the boundaries of her trust in him. He couldn't wait!
As Teddy munched on his breakfast later that morning, his eyes kept straying over to Granger sitting at the Gryffindor table with her girlfriend, Ginny. She was smiling and laughing at something the she-weasel said, and he felt his heart melt watching her so easily give her love away to everyone around her.
Why the hell had he waited? If only he'd asked her out two weeks ago… Now she was Drake's, and Teddy knew his friend's reputation with the ladies enough to know that it wouldn't be long before Hermione was under the blonde Slytherin's spell. Undoubtedly, she'd end up in Malfoy's bed, and then her heart would be seriously torn up.
Although… this time, his friend seemed a little different, didn't he? All preliminary indicators pointed to Draco genuinely liking Granger; she might not end up being just a passing fancy for the guy.
For some reason, that thought depressed Teddy even more.
Sure, he would be happy for Drake if this relationship actually worked out for him. Granger was a fine woman, and he could see how their passionate temperaments might abut just enough to keep them both interested long-term. But if he had to be completely honest with himself, there was a little, teensy, secret part of Ted that secretly hoped that Hermione and Draco couldn't make it last, that their dispositions would be too diametrically opposed for them to give it a good enough go around. He wanted Granger free, so he could court her.
But this was the darker side of him thinking. The part that came from his father, that no-good Death Eater son-of-a-bitch. The segment of his personality that was terribly bitter and angry about his fate… Teddy sighed in self-loathing. How could he think such rotten things about the guy who was practically a brother to him? How could he wish heartbreak on the girl he loved?
Conflicted, Teddy could do no more than sit and stare and pine away, hating himself for weakly desiring something he knew he could not have.
Teddy saw Hermione again at lunch. This time, she was sitting with Potter and Longbottom. Neither Weasley was in sight. But then, it was Thursday, and that meant that the two wouldn't be coming in for lunch until at least one o'clock, when Hermione left for her three hour Defense Against the Dark Arts lecture-lab. Teddy kept tabs on the comings and goings of her friends. It was a little stalker-ish, but it also helped him to know when she might have an alone minute, so he could try to talk to her.
He chanced a glance down towards the end of the Slytherin table. Drake was surrounded by the rest of his House's chirping birds, flanked on either side by Zabini and Parkinson. They were all talking animatedly, but Teddy noted his friend's eyes constantly stray over towards Granger. The two would occasionally share a secret smile whenever she chanced a look up at the same time.
After ten minutes miserably watching the interplay between the two "lovies," Teddy disgustedly scooted his plate back and stood, gathering his books and heading out. He didn't have a direction in mind; he just wanted to get out. He was feeling a bit nauseated, honestly.
He only made it as far as the men's bathroom on the other side of the Entrance Hall, near the Staff Room, before he had to throw himself into a toilet stall and vomit. Everything he'd eaten that morning came up and then some. When he'd finally finished evacuating his stomach and flushed, he stumbled out to the sinks and rinsed his face off and mouth out, spitting the vile, acid taste into the ceramic basin. He leaned his palms on the counter, and supported his full weight on them, panting and shaking, flushing hot and cold simultaneously.
"Hey, man, you okay?"
Teddy looked into the mirror in front of him and caught the concerned reflection of the Ravenclaw Prefect, Anthony Goldstein behind him.
"You need help to the hospital?" the young man asked.
Teddy coughed and shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks." He smirked bitterly into the reflection and bald-faced lied. "Hang over. Had a bit too much Ogden's and brew last night, you know?"
Anthony nodded slowly. "I feel you. I've done my share of worshipping the porcelain god. Just remember: liquor before beer, nothing to fear, but beer before liquor, throw up quicker, yeah?" He headed for the door, but before opening it, he turned back. "If it gets worse, go see Michael Corner. He's got a great restorative that will clear it all up, even the headache. Luck, mate!" he wished, then swept out the door, his robes flapping behind him dramatically, leaving Teddy completely alone.
Teddy ran more water over his face, knowing that nothing Corner could possibly give him would be able to do a damn thing to help. His illness was progressing finally; he was out of remission. And he didn't need a doctor from St. Mungo's to tell him what he already knew either.
The tears came again, and he tried to quell them by controlling his breathing, but could not. "Fuck," he whispered, feeling despair and anger overtake him once more as hot trails trickled their way down his cheeks. He cursed his bastard father for putting him in this situation. If only the man hadn't hexed him so often as a child… That Teddy had been able to hold his illness off this long was a miracle unto itself, though. He'd been very lucky to even make it this far. At least, that's what Madam Pomfrey had told him when she'd been informed by his mother earlier this year.
Lucky, right.
Just a little longer, he begged the Heavens. Let me graduate first. Let me have this one thing for myself at least.
He thought of Granger, of her smile and her sweet voice, and realized that he'd just lied to the Almighty. He really wanted two things for himself before he died. Selfish and wrong though it was to wish for his best friend's girlfriend to have some feeling for him, he did. He wished it with all his might.
Hermione ran into Teddy in the library that evening after dinner. She took a seat at a desk opposite him and smiled when he noticed her. "Hey," she greeted him.
"Hi," he shyly smiled back. "You up to chapter sixteen yet?" he asked, holding up his Advanced Charms book.
She grinned. "Eighteen," she boasted, looking a bit smug. "You?"
That slow Slytherin smirk wound its way up his face, and she wondered if all the wizards in that House practiced that look, as it seemed to be their patented facial expression. "Twenty," he admitted.
Hermione was floored. He'd gone through four chapters in a week? She grinned and shook her head. "Simply amazing. How do you do it?"
Teddy's smirk instantly was gone and he looked at her pointedly. "I've got no significant other to take up my time."
Her face was instantly on fire. The accusatory tone… Again, she wondered if Teddy knew about she and Malfoy, and if so, how much? "Oh," was all she could manage. "Well… still, that many chapters in only seven days has to be a school record, I would think. Highly commendable." She flipped her book ahead and scanned chapters nineteen and twenty to see what he was working on currently. "Hmmm… Incredibly useful plant conjurations. Interesting. I bet Neville would love this."
"Granger, I think there's something you need to know," Teddy broke in, disturbing her reading concentration. She looked up to see him staring defiantly over at her. "You're the top student in our grade, but I want to graduate as the Valedictorian for our class. And since you're only up by two points, I think I can pull it off. So, I've made the decision that I'm going to work as hard as I can this year to knock you from your slot. In the name of good sportsmanship, I also thought you should be aware of my intentions."
Hermione's eyes widened upon Teddy's pronouncement. "Well… um… thank you. For letting me know, I mean. Although, I'm not so sure how to feel about such a blatant challenge, honestly."
He grinned. "Well, I suppose you could take it as a compliment. A testament to your superior intellect, and how it's greatly admired… by some of us, anyway."
She didn't answer right away, disturbed by what she'd just been told. Someone – Teddy - was going to try to outdo her in homework, testing and wand practice? How did that make her feel exactly? "Thank you," she replied, flushing in embarrassment. "Then, may the best… student… win," she lamely accepted the contest. She turned back to chapter eighteen and began reading in earnest, looking to get a head start.
Teddy was quiet for a few heartbeats before interrupting her again. "How about we make a bet on it?" he asked so quietly that she almost didn't hear, even in the ominous silence of the library.
She blinked and looked up in time to catch his eyes looking with something like longing at her. It was quickly hidden behind his usual mask of indifference, of course, but she was sure she'd spied it. "What kind of bet?" she hesitantly asked, feeling flutterbys in her tummy again.
He looked at her for a second, then stood up and walked over to her side of the desk, flinging one leg over the bench she was sitting on and plopping down next to her. "Here's the deal," he presented, his eyes suddenly very predatory. "Whoever wins gets a favor of their choice granted by the other person. It can't be anything embarrassing, dangerous or which will jeopardize the loser's reputation, but aside from that, it can be any request at all."
She considered the proposition. "As in 'can you help me apply for this job?' or 'will you accompany me to the grocers?' That sort of favor?"
Teddy nodded his head. "But both parties consent not to try to weasel out of what they're asked for from whoever wins. Agreed?" He held out his hand.
It seemed like an innocent enough bet, insofar as bets could go, she thought. Heck, she'd played a raucous game of 'Truth or Dare' in May this year with Harry, Ron, Lavender, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus that saw worse penalties for losing (thankfully, all she'd been asked to do on a dare was to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room and plant a Weasley Portable Swamp down smack dab in the middle of the floor… since she'd covered her tracks well, Snape never knew who had done the deed that flooded his House's main lobby and made it stink like a rotting bog for days). How shocking could a favor be if it wasn't meant to be, in any fashion, damaging to the loser?
She nodded and shook his hand. "Agreed."
He grinned at her, holding onto her hand even after they'd stopped pumping up and down. "Get ready to lose, Granger," he leered, leaning in close enough to make her heart skip a beat. "This is one bet I intend on winning."
Merlin's bones, she'd done it again, hadn't she?
What had she gotten herself into this time?
In his bed that night, Teddy looked up at the canopy overhead and smiled sadly. He knew exactly what he was going to ask Hermione once he won their bet. He only hoped she'd have the courage to grant his last wish.
TO BE CONTINUED....