AN: The reception of this fic is bloody staggering. You guys totally make me write faster...which I suppose works out really well for you. ;)
Warning: This chapter contains Mature Content. - I'm not a mark it for the 'skippers' sort of writer so if mature content bothers you...move along I suppose.
Chapter 2 - The Date
"I'm going to be sick."
"Hermione, stop being so bloody dramatic. It's just a date. You've been out with Theo before. Why is this time so different? No, not that, it's awful." Ginny's nose wrinkled in distaste. Hermione tossed the shapeless black garment onto the growing pile on her bed.
"It's not with Theo."
"Oh please tell me you haven't taken back my brother." Ginny groaned in disgust, scouring Hermione's dreadfully plain wardrobe.
"Ginny. That's just cruel."
"So are these clothes. No wonder you haven't managed to snag a man. Ridiculous. We need to go shopping." Ginny flounced onto Hermione's bed, eyeing her curiously. "Who is he, then?"
"I haven't time to go shopping."
"You always say that. We can transfigure something for tonight, but we're definitely shopping this weekend. If he makes you this nervous, perhaps it'll last. Come on then, give me your vision. That's why I'm here isn't it? Don't think I'm going to let you get away with not telling me all about your mystery man, Hermione Granger." Ginny ripped off her Puddlemore United sweatshirt in favour of a slinky black dress she discovered in the deep recesses of Hermione's closet.
"Remember those old movies I've made you watch with me?" Hermione allowed Ginny to manipulate her difficult curls. She knew it was useless to try and dissuade the young witch. Ginny was determined to tame Hermione's unruly curls if it was the last thing she did.
"Of course. I see now. Hmm, how are you leaning? Roman Holiday or Breakfast at Tiffany's? Is this a first date? I'm assuming drink and dinner. If that's the case, Roman Holiday is definitely out, that's more for picnics and riding brooms. What colour then?" Ginny twisted Hermione's hair, piling it on top of her head, and frowning at wayward curls.
"Blue! Definitely blue! This is going to be so much fun!" Hermione groaned as Astoria Potter bounded into her bedroom.
"Oi! Stori! Do you know about her mystery date?" Ginny smiled at the bouncing blonde.
It was impossible to hate Astoria. She positively oozed happiness. She was almost the polar opposite of her older half-sister Daphne. How Astoria Greengrass wound up in Slytherin was anyone's guess. She loved everyone regardless of blood status, which made her that much more endearing.
"It's Draco!" Astoria squealed, tossing an armload of garment bags onto the bed. Ginny gasped, smacking Hermione's arm.
"I can't bloody believe it! When were you going to tell me?! How long has this been going on?"
"Apparently, they've been seeing each other in secret for months! Can you believe it? I can't. However did they manage to hide it so well?" Hermione covered her face in horror, yet silently thanking Harry for keeping their secret. As much as she loved Harry, he was a terrible gossip and Astoria didn't help matters in the least.
"What of Theo?" Ginny couldn't resist. While she'd never admitted it to anyone, let alone her best friend, a small piece of her was a bit jealous. She'd always admired the tall, lean and intelligent Slytherin.
"Theo was just doing a service for Draco. Harry, Draco and Theo floo'd over after work. I was eavesdropping a bit; you know I can't help myself. Draco was thanking Theo for keeping an eye on his girl. Theo was being perfectly Theo and said the pleasure was his, but he had his eye on a particularly fiery redhead." Astoria's blonde curls bounced while she giggled, unzipping the garment bags while charming them to hang before Hermione.
"Harry caught me and sent me here. We need to get busy. Draco's taking her to Mio Luna. I told Blaise they should name their restaurant something else, but he insisted. I don't bloody understand it, but Blaise and Luna have arranged a table for two at 7."
"Mio Luna? I've been dying to go there." Ginny groaned, vetoing an emerald green mermaid gown with a snort.
"I'll mention it to Theo." Astoria winked. "Mione, we've only an hour! Get up, choose a dress."
"She wants to channel her inner Audrey Hepburn tonight. She's bloody nervous. Look at her. Her hands are shaking and that flush, my word. I've never seen her in such a state." Hermione stared into the nothingness, blocking out all the chattering around her. She was having difficulty seeing herself at the newest posh restaurant with Draco Malfoy.
"She needs a calming draught. Check the washroom." Astoria rifled through the various drawers and cabinets until returning with a small vial. Ginny propped Hermione against her arm, while Astoria poured the potion down her throat.
"She's really nervous."
"I'm right here. Stop it." Hermione shook herself free from Ginny's embrace to stumble into the washroom. She splashed cold water on her face, irritated by the splotchiness of her face. She took a few cleansing breaths before allowing her friends to alter her entire appearance.
"He won't be able to keep his hands off you."
"This is better than the Yule Ball."
"She needs a choker."
"Not that, the pearls."
"Do you think the gloves are too much?"
"It's not bloody Breakfast at Tiffany's without the gloves."
"Who the fuck is Tiffany and why does she need breakfast?!"
"Ask Harry, Stori."
Hermione studied her reflection, barely recognising herself. It was modest, which she appreciated. She'd always hated women who felt the need to display so much of their skin it bordered on pornographic. This dress, however, hugged her curves, alluding to her womanly wiles without making her uncomfortable.
Her curls were miraculously tamed and piled onto her head. Hermione wondered how Ginny had managed to smooth out the familiar frizz which had always surrounded her face. Stori had secured the hair with magic and an antique filigree clasp.
"Aunt Cissa instructed me to give this to you." Stori whispered in Hermione's ear while Ginny rummaged in the closet for shoes.
"I expect a full bloody report afterwards. If you make it home." Ginny wiggled her eyebrows while licking her upper lip suggestively.
"Ginevra Weasley! Contain yourself!" Hermione felt her cheeks heat while Ginny thrusted her pelvis.
"Is she always like this?" Stori's brown eyes nearly bulged out of her head.
"Worse. You're lucky. Ask Harry about Ginny's wanton evening with the Gryffindor lion.."
"WE SWORE TO NEVER SPEAK OF IT!" Hermione laughed lightly slipping her feet into the peep toe silver pumps.
"Where's the fun in that?" Before Ginny's temper could explode, they were interrupted by a light knock to the door of Hermione's modest flat.
Hermione was thankful for the gloves. She had originally believed they were over the top, but they hid the clamminess of her palms. She allowed Stori to spritz her with her dwindling bottle of french perfume. She couldn't pronounce it, but it was one of the few mementos of her parents to still exist. Hermione adored the way the floral scents mingled with her favourite herbs, creating a delicious concoction.
It reminded her of every morning at Hogwarts, always managing to spray it into her hair before rushing off to class. It had been years since she'd received a new bottle. It made her miss her parents terribly, but Hermione didn't have time for such things.
"It's almost empty.." Stori sighed, studying the thick glass.
"I know, it's the last one. I never knew where she purchased it. I can't ask her.." Hermione sighed, fingering the light blue bottle before placing it back in her washroom cabinet.
"Your mum?" Stori gripped Hermione's hand, giving it a squeeze. She knew it was simply another thing to discuss with her good friend Draco Malfoy.
No witch should be this incredibly sad from a simple scent. Astoria knew it was a special creation. Before she had known it was irreplaceable to her friend, she had spritzed it onto her wrist. The scent had been completely different to her, reminding her of fresh cut grass and the smell of rain on pavement.
"He's here and a bit nervous, if I do say so myself. Looks bloody smashing. I wouldn't mind taking a bite out of.." Ginny poked her head into the bedroom.
"Ginny!" Stori hissed, pulling Hermione from the wreckage of her bedroom.
"What?! It's true!"
"You're as bad as Ron with food."
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
"Ginny, if you calm yourself, I'll invite you to our place for dinner. Theo will be there..." Stori pleaded, trying to maneuver Hermione into her front room. Ginny smoothed the creases in her slinky black dress and nodded curtly. With a final shove from Stori, Hermione found herself stumbling into her living room.
"Why did I listen to you? A bloody suit. If this fails, I'm hexing you." Draco hastily pressed a button on his cell phone and shoved it into the inside pocket of his double breasted blazer, upon spying Hermione's less than graceful entrance.
He looked as nervous as she felt. Hermione knew it would be easy to add to his anxiety yet decided to take a bit of pity on him. It was a delicate situation for them both.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, nodding toward his pocket. Draco Malfoy's mouth hung slightly agape taking in the woman before him.
He'd worked with Harry and Hermione for years, but he'd never seen her in a true social situation. The Ministry functions were simply a formality and she had never looked like this. He had a sneaking suspicion Hermione Granger had the curves of a woman, based on their embrace that afternoon, but to actually see a garment clinging to them was astonishing.
Draco was drawn out of his haze by the snickering of a redheaded witch he vaguely recognised and Stori. The light ringing of bells made him frown. Stori sighed and pulled her cell phone out of her robes.
"What? I'm busy! No. I'm not spying..oh fine! I'm coming. I'm bringing Ginny with me. Yes, fine." Stori shoved the phone back into her robes and grabbed Ginny's hand.
"Meeo-Miiio, Harry says..." Stori gasped suddenly, her eyes narrowing while Draco pointedly ignored her searching gaze.
"Stori?"
"Oh yes, Harry says I'm to come home. Something about privacy, which is ridiculous really. I wish I never let him talk me into the bloody Muggle celly phone. Kisses!" Astoria blew them air kisses before stepping into the Floo with a sheepish Ginny.
They stood in the apparent silence for a few moments, each of them lost in their thoughts.
"Shall we go then?" Draco offered his arm, as if he'd done it hundreds of time. Which, now that Hermione considered it, he probably had and she wasn't sure how that made her feel.
Hermione gazed at the long line of patrons outside the new restaurant, wondering how they would feel to see Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy saunter to the front to be seated.
"Have you been here before?" He held the door open for her, his hand on the small of her back.
"N-no. I've been meaning to, but I.." Hermione had helped Blaise and Luna pick the location and even helped Blaise talk Luna out of her more abstract ideas. It was an intimate sort of dining experience. She had never felt comfortable bringing a date to an establishment that seemed to cater to lovers.
"I came to the opening. It was...different. Didn't stay long or anything, but Blaise insisted on reserving a table for us this evening. I couldn't say no. We don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable.." Draco nodded to the maitre'd, his hand slipping into Hermione's while they were led to a table against the back wall.
Hermione felt her nerves building to an almost unbearable crescendo when she spied their table. It seemed to be a small half moon booth. Intimate seating for two and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, it seemed to be on a platform.
"This was obviously Luna's idea. I tried to talk her out of it." Hermione sighed and slid into the booth.
The armrest on her left side rose with a click, succinctly locking her in place. Draco frowned, yet sat beside her to find he was also locked in place. Their thighs touched, but there wasn't room to move away from each other.
"What madness is this?" Draco whispered, finding it impossible to be comfortable. There wasn't a place to put his arm.
"If I had to guess, the platform revolves. Luna thought it would be fabulous to have the tables spin, but Blaise said he didn't want his patrons vomiting their dinners." Hermione hid behind the large menu, ignoring the blatant stares from unfamiliar witches.
"I'm going to put my arm around you because I haven't a place to put it. I'm sure that was her aim as well."
"There's only one menu as well."
"Fantastic." Draco found himself rolling his eyes, wondering where he'd picked up such a habit to spy Hermione doing the same.
"Sorry."
"It's not your bloody fault. Oh lovely, pictures as well." Hermione ignored the flashes, intent on studying her dining choices. Draco draped his arm around Hermione's shoulders, his fingers toying with an escaped curl near her earlobe.
"Why do you do that?" Hermione was afraid to look at him, he was entirely too close for comfort.
"I like it." He found himself smiling at the gooseflesh which rose across her skin. He wondered if it was his proximity or the gentle strokes of his fingers along the side of her neck. He adjusted the modest string of pearls around her neck, his thumb dipping beneath the clasp.
"You don't have to lie, Malfoy. I'm well aware my hair is not my best feature." Hermione's eyes searched the restaurant, wondering if anyone was going to take their order when platters of food were placed on the table by none other than Blaise Zabini.
"Who broke you, Granger?" Hermione shivered as his lips grazed her ear.
"Malfoy! About bloody time you wandered into our fine establishment. Luna wanted to surprise you with some of her specialties, but mate, stay away from them. Gods know I love her, but her dishes are a bit terrifying." Hermione laughed as the large, dark skinned Italian stole glances over his shoulder.
"Your secret is safe with me, Blaise."
"Holy shit. Granger? Is that you? Malfoy, you didn't tell me Granger was such a fuckin' hottie." Blaise leered, winking suggestively. Hermione knew it was all in harmless fun, yet Draco stiffened beside her, drawing her against him.
"Don't make me regret coming, Blaise. Where's Luna?" Hermione casually drew the conversation back to Luna. Draco felt as if they had done this numerous times before, which made him feel a bit unsettled. Draco knew he was being irrational, but he didn't appreciate his best mate making eyes at the woman he was marrying.
"Oi. Blaise." Blaise nodded slowly, perusing his mate. Hermione glanced between the two, realising they were having one of their famous silent conversations.
"Well, I'm going to find my wife. Enjoy the rest of your evening." With an exaggerated bow, Blaise bustled through the tables to greet new arrivals.
"What was that about?" Hermione turned toward Draco, her nose brushing his cheek.
Draco was hyperaware of their proximity. Her shoulder overlapped his, her right hand resting lightly on his thigh, gloves long removed, when her breath graced his jaw, he tensed. Inwardly he cursed Harry Potter and his bloody wife for planting ideas in his head in the first place. He had never really noticed Hermione before. It wasn't exactly true, if at all, yet Draco had worked hard to convince himself she was simply another Ministry worker, doing whatever it was she did.
Sure, he had toyed with the idea of taking her out and about, if only to get her out of his system. Astoria had given him an unforgettable tongue lashing for even suggesting such a thing.
"She is not a toy, Draco Malfoy. She's been through hell and back. You're bloody lucky she doesn't regularly hex you. You were quite the little shit in Hogwarts and she forgave you. You didn't even ask her too and she did! She defends you, which is no easy feat. You'd be lucky to find a woman half as good as Hermione Granger. You will not use her like one of your slags. You have an itch? That's why the Pansy Parkinsons in the world exist. Hermione is beautiful, inside and out. Just because you can't see beyond the need to inflate your ridiculously large ego, doesn't mean she can't see you for exactly who you are. A petulant, selfish, scared and terribly vulnerable child. In fact, she's bloody said so. Therefore, if you think you can take her about, show her a good time and expect her to drop her knickers, you think again. It would destroy her. I watched Ron destroy her. She's a bloody shadow of the person she used to be. Grow up, Malfoy. Either you recognise her as the beautiful woman she is or you fuck right off."
"Malfoy? Are you alright?" Hermione brushed his cheek with her palm, drawing him out of his haze. He shook his head slightly, causing his hair to fall onto his forehead.
"How is it possible I didn't notice?" He took in the wide brown eyes, lightly dusted with shimmer, the full pink lips slightly parted and the pink hue of her cheeks before deciding Stori was absolutely correct. Hermione Granger is absolutely beautiful and she didn't have a bloody clue.
"Notice what? I.." Hermione found her words abruptly cut off by Draco Malfoy's lips against hers. He shifted in the booth, shielding her from the onslaught of flashes and murmurs. Her head fell back onto his arm, his hand gently turning her face into him.
They discovered their booth slowly turning away from the patrons and reporters until they faced the wall. Neither of them noticed the shimmer of magic on the previously blank wall as it morphed into a splendid scene of a crackling fire.
Hermione was overwhelmed. She'd never been kissed in such a public venue before. She'd never been kissed the way Draco Malfoy was currently kissing her. It wasn't a wet, sloppy kiss reminiscent of Ron. It wasn't a harsh, teeth smashing kiss, reminiscent of Viktor. It wasn't even the chaste, ridiculously sweet kisses which reminded her of Oliver Wood or the hesitant, practically matronly kisses of Theo Nott. It wasn't anything she had ever experienced.
Draco's lips were so soft, yet tentative, part of her was wondering if she was imagining their very presence. She could feel his hand cupping the side of her face, his thumb applying light pressure to the jaw line in front of her ear, before it slid down the side of her body to grip her hip.
It took a moment to respond to the gentle pressure as he kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw and even her cheeks. Draco returned to her lips as her eyes fluttered closed. When she sighed into him, her body sagging slightly, he nipped her bottom lip, his tongue flicking forward. Hermione almost laughed at the light rumble emanating from his chest upon gaining entrance. She gripped his forearm, wondering if her inexperience was rearing its ugly head.
Ron was always thrusting it in her face. He constantly complained of her unwillingness to sleep with him. She knew if Ron Weasley had evoked half the things she was currently feeling, she would have succumbed to his bumbling attempts. For a moment, Hermione allowed herself wonder what it would feel like to writhe beneath a man, this particular man. She contemplated the sensations, wondering if he would find himself filled with disgust by the scars marring her body. She wondered if he would scoff and demean her for her lack of knowledge. Hermione Granger had always detested the idea of failure in anything.
"I've lost you." Draco pecked her lips a few times in quick succession. He pulled away slightly, tapping her forehead with a fingertip.
Draco took in her swollen lips, heaving chest and even the escaped tendrils in awe. He wondered who on earth had been able to let her go. It was obvious she was inexperienced but that simply added to her charm. He liked the idea of being her first and her last. He reveled in the idea of being the one to teach her the ins and outs of lovemaking. He wondered what she would look like as she came undone in his arms, in his bed.
"I'm sorry. Sometimes I have a tendency to...over think." Hermione studied the unfamiliar plates of food in front of them, afraid to look at the man studying her profile.
"Sometimes?" Draco teased, winding a curl around his finger, giving it a gentle yank.
"It's not as if I do it on purpose, it's just.." Draco frowned, covering her hand with his own.
"Granger, it's who you are. I'm not looking to change it." He didn't quite understand why she was suddenly upset. She had to have known he was teasing her. Unless of course, someone else hadn't been.
"Why don't we eat and you can tell me all about the man who decided you weren't perfectly fine exactly the way you are." Draco sniffed a tureen containing a thick purple concoction before deciding it was definitely one of Luna's creations. Their booth returned to its original position, which made them wonder if it had some sort of magical timer.
"You don't want to know, not really. It's fine." He knew it was something she had said numerous times.
"Granger, that might work with everyone else, but as you well know, I'm not everyone else. Give me a little credit please. I'm sure these aren't ideal conditions for you, but I'm trying here." Draco perused the dishes, settling on a beef dish which looked the least offensive.
He took a bite and groaned in appreciation, before offering Hermione a taste. He smirked as she moved toward taking the offered fork and shook his head. Her eyes widened in surprise, before rewarding him with a half smile. She leaned forward and gods be dammed if she didn't lick the fork before allowing her plump lips to close around it. Draco swallowed while she moaned in delight.
"You play dirty, Granger." Draco hissed, surreptitiously adjusting his trousers.
"So, Malfoy, how many women are going to send me howlers after tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet?" Hermione spread a soft cheese on an herb crusted roll, while Draco poured them glasses of a rich red wine.
"That's not very nice, Granger. Are you suggesting I'm some sort of playboy?"
"You said it.." Hermione smirked.
"Tell me who broke you." She knew he was just as stubborn as she was, if not more. She couldn't fathom why she thought he'd let it go. She took a deep breath and a long swallow from her wine glass and began.
Over the next hour, she answered all his questions. Hermione found him easy to converse with, which shocked her quite a bit. She had expected him to be rash and judgmental; instead he was a good listener, refraining from outbursts of anger where Ron was concerned.
Hermione had never spoken of the things Ron had said and done. Draco had expected Harry at the very least would know, but she was quick to point out Harry and Ron were friends before she ever entered the picture. She wasn't one to go about ruining other people's relationships because of her issues.
She was surprised to find herself willingly telling him of every moment Ron Weasley made her feel less than what she was. From the time he'd abandoned her and Harry in the woods hunting horcruxes to a few months prior when he'd told her she should be grateful he'd ever given her a second glance.
"I'm sorry, Granger but he's a wanker. An utter and complete wanker. He called you his friend? Merlin, what the bloody fuck does he say to his enemies? Complete tosser. Let me hex him. Just once, I promise. I won't maim him, well, not much. Oh. Let me tell Stori. She'd take care of him and when the Aurors come, I'll be completely innocent. Yes. Stop shaking your head. Don't laugh. It's completely possible. I'm an Auror. They'd believe me. Especially if wizarding hero Harry Potter said it was true. Aw, Granger, you're not a bit of fun." Hermione laughed at his antics. Draco was practically bouncing in his seat, his eyes flitting around as quickly as his thoughts.
"Shit. He's going to lose his bloody mind tomorrow. I'll have to shut my Floo, reenforce my wards and block direct Apparition. He's such a bloody pain in the arse. Ugh." Hermione's laughter died in her throat, picturing an enraged Ron Weasley pounding on her door and throwing accusations.
Draco remained silent while their dishes were taken away by a wispy witch, her eyes as full of promise as the sway of her hips. Luna waved airily, setting a chocolate concoction on their table and disappearing without a word. Hermione stared at the pastry wondering if it would explode into a sea of pixies when she cut through it.
She missed Draco searching in the pockets of his blazer. Her head tilted to the left, eyeing a sliver of icing dripping down the side of the dessert. Draco's hand slid across the table, tapping the side of her fingers. She felt him brush a curl behind her ear and then it was his breath against her jaw.
"I don't know how to do this. I've never done this before. I've never thought this before, for that matter." Hermione leaned into the hardness of his forehead, fingering the small white box before her. With trembling fingers, she opened it slowly, sighing. She closed her eyes for a moment to remind herself it wasn't real. He hadn't a choice in the matter as much as she didn't. If he had a choice, Hermione deduced he wouldn't be presenting this to her of all the women he could choose.
"I'm losing you again."
"Sorry." Hermione could feel dozens of eyes upon them.
"Stop apologising. I only get to do this once. I brought Potter with me to my vault. This was my grandmum's. She would have liked you. I didn't know much about her, but my mother used to tell me about her. She was a quirky old bird. I didn't think you'd want to wear something flashy and obnoxious. I saved this one in the back of a drawer. It was always my favourite. Its simplicity is what makes it beautiful. I never noticed how beautiful you are. You were always just Granger, until you weren't. I should have noticed." Draco's voice dropped causing Hermione to lean into him to hear the last few words. Her palm brushed his cheek unconsciously while she searched his stormy eyes.
"You're giving me your grandmother's ring?" Hermione hadn't expected such a gesture. Part of her simply assumed he'd toss her a box nonchalantly before leaving her at her flat.
Draco nodded nervously. He knew she wouldn't refuse, but it was still a monumental occasion in their lives. He fumbled with the small white box, removing the sapphire engagement ring. He pinched it between his fingers, ignoring the gasps of surprise around them.
"Wear it?" While it most definitely did not fit into Hermione's ideals of how she would receive a proposal, it wasn't the worst she'd ever heard. It was incredibly sweet and honest, which she decided was better than showy and insincere. She nodded quickly, holding out her hand. Draco willed the tremor in his hands to cease as he slipped the ring onto her finger. They both gasped at the sudden jolt of magic coursing through them. Hermione wondered if it was the solidifying of the contract while Draco contemplated the magic of his family heirloom.
Draco released the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. Hermione's mouth was moving, but he was incapable of focusing on her words. He was completely distracted by her lips. He didn't care about the flashing of cameras. He didn't care about the whispers or even the thinly veiled insults. He grasped Hermione's head and pulled her toward him, crashing their lips together, during another of her rambles, before her hand stroked his cheek while she melted into his chest.
"Oi. Malfoy. Granger. There's a bloody horde of reporters outside, come on, I'll take you through the back." Blaise tapped the table with his meaty palm, snapping them out of their snogging session.
Hermione laughed while Blaise hurried them through the kitchen, through the back door and into an alley.
"You're going to tell me how the fuck this came about." Blaise crossed his arms, making his hulking figure seem even more imposing. Draco drew Hermione into his arms, resting his head on her shoulder and nodded.
"Tomorrow." He flashed a smile and without warning, Disapparated.
Hermione stumbled, immediately kicking off her shoes. She never found Side-Along-Apparition enjoyable and this time was no different. She scrunched her toes into the luxurious carpet before realising she wasn't in her flat. Her flat didn't have luxurious dark grey carpeting. Her flat had hardwood floors and shabby throw rugs.
"Where are we?" Her large brown eyes took in the oversized slate blue sofas and rich, dark wood side tables in front of a fireplace with an empty mantle.
"My flat. I thought now would be as good a time as any for you to decide if we are going to reside here or purchase another residence." Draco tossed his blazer onto an overstuffed armchair near the front door and shrugged.
"I also thought Stori and that Weasley girl would be at your flat and you might prefer to lay low considering it's probably the last night of peace and quiet we'll have until sometime in the New Year."
Hermione wandered the open space, finding herself impressed with his choices in decor. She fingered the bookshelves against the closest wall, resisting the urge to inspect the titles, knowing Draco was smirking behind her. She was the first to admit, his flat, while lovely, wasn't her taste in the least. It didn't have that homey sort of feel she'd grown used to over the years. Hermione was drawn to the long glass table cluttered with open books and parchment in front of a picture window. Her breath caught in her throat while gazing upon the twinkling of the city lights below her.
"Is this a wizarding building?" She started at the sensation of cool fingers upon her shoulders. She hadn't heard him glide across the room to stand behind her. Hermione attempted to tamp down the shiver along her spine as his lips left a blazing trail along the contours of her neck, before an arm wrapped around her midsection.
"Mmhmm. Memorial Gardens. It's the first medley building to exist on the outskirts of Muggle London." Draco's teeth nipped her earlobe, a singular finger skimming across her shoulder, down to her elbow and back again.
"Dumbledore's idea I believe. The top ten floors are available for witches and wizards, the rest are Muggle flats."
"Malfoy, wh-what are you doing?" He was enjoying the effect he was having on her.
He had never dreamed Hermione Granger could be so easily flustered. Perhaps marrying the Gryffindor Ice Queen wouldn't be the worst possible thing he could do with his life. At the very least, she seemed to be melting under a few errant touches and kisses. Draco imagined her curls splayed across his chest, her soft supple body pressed against him and groaned.
"Exploring. Studying. Learning. Isn't that your favourite pastime Granger?" Hermione was cursing her past relationships in a mindless flurry of misplaced anger.
She had always believed herself to be defective or at the very least undesirable. Ron had always told her how difficult it was to be aroused by her. How completely unresponsive she was to any of his sexual advances. The truth was she wasn't the least bit attracted to him. She tried to be, but her childish infatuation with her friend had waned long before he decided she was worth a second glance.
"Why?" Hermione didn't recognise the low pitched husky whisper as her own until Draco chuckled into her hair.
He spun her around without warning, pinning her to his unclad chest. Her hands were trapped against his pale, muscular chest, his heart pounding beneath her fingertips.
*When had he removed his shirt?* She gasped as his hands roamed the contours of her body, settling beneath the generous rounding of her arse.
"I'm bloody curious, Granger. I want to see what makes you tick. For instance, when I kiss you right here..." Draco leaned forward his teeth, tongue, lips pressing, nibbling, and tasting the skin just below her ear. "Your breath hitches, you blush and there's a bit of a tremble in your limbs, which shows me no one's ever fully explored you. This dress has got to bloody go."
"I'm not..I'm not."
"Granger. I never said I was planning on shagging you." She jerked in his arms, struggling against him.
"At least, not tonight." He ignored the instant stiffening to her limbs, yet he released her.
Draco was unexpectedly enamored by her. Hermione's eyes were closed, her fingertips against her lips. He left her leaning against the table to pour them a much needed drink. He stood near the sink, leaning over the basin.
Hermione's head was spinning. It was too much, too fast. This morning she had been pouring over tomes in the Archives trying to research a particularly nasty curse. This evening she was engaged to Draco Malfoy, snogging him in his flat. She gazed at the sparkling sapphire on her third finger.
She pushed off from the table, knocking a few pieces of parchment to the floor. She sauntered over to the sofa and picked up Draco's discarded dress shirt. She was uncomfortable. Hermione saw Draco leaning over the basin, his back pale and rippled in the soft light. She kept her eyes on his slouched form while she unzipped her dress. Inwardly she cursed Ginny for talking her into the navy scraps of lace which passed for knickers and the matching demi bra. She slipped into his dress shirt, thankful it brushed her knees while she buttoned it quickly.
"What are we drinking?" Draco clutched a tumbler in his hand, his chin almost touching his chest. He didn't turn to look at her, instead handing her the bottle. "Ogden's, of course, ugh." He allowed her small hands to remove the glass from his hand. He listened to the clink of the bottle and the sounds of liquid before he opened his eyes.
"Not a fan?"
"Not since Ginny imbibed too much and put on what can only be described as a particularly raunchy show with Luna's stuffed lion." Hermione shuddered in memory.
"What's your pleasure then, Granger? I'm sure I have it." Draco swallowed hard, looking at her in his shirt. It was perfectly modest, but there was something about it which made his trousers incredibly tight.
"Oh, I should have asked. I'm sorry. Is this not alright? I.."
"Stop bloody apologising. It's fine. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. There are clothes in the bedroom." Draco flung open the glass door cabinet next to the sink basin lined with glass bottles.
"Malfoy. I'm not wearing one of your slags cast offs!" Hermione gave him a light shove and perused the bottles. She had difficulty reaching the top shelf and felt Draco's shirt slide up the back of her thighs while she rose onto the tips of her toes to snatch the bottle of tequila.
Draco knew the gentlemanly thing to do, would be to help her, but he couldn't help but watch the soft material rise higher and higher, wishing it were his hands. With a strangled noise, he pulled down the bottle before it landed on her head.
"I'll have you know, Granger, I've never had a woman in my flat. Mother had the closet stocked before I arrived home from the Ministry."
"Sor.."
"Don't say it. We really need to work on that, Granger. Malfoy's do not apologise." Hermione nodded, taking a small swig from the bottle. She gasped at the burn in her throat.
"Does the little Gryffindor require training wheels?"
"Shut it, Malfoy. It's simply been awhile." Hermione took the bottle and flounced from the small kitchen to land on the sofa.
Draco Malfoy filed away a handy mental note to remind himself an intoxicated Hermione Granger was his new favourite entertainment. She giggled while reclining on the arm of the sofa. He should probably inform her, she was giving him a delightful peep show of her knickers, but he didn't wish to ruin the view.
"It's so bloody warm in here. How do you stand it?!" Hermione partially unbuttoned Draco's shirt, spreading it open while fanning herself.
"Have some water." Draco had stopped drinking an hour before. He felt it was the responsible thing to do, as much as it chaffed him.
"Help me take this off." Hermione tugged on her string of pearls, her fingers refusing to work properly. She knew she wasn't completely pissed, but she was enjoying the evaporation of anxiety within her.
"Come here then." Draco lounged on the other end of the sofa, his feet propped on the dark wood coffee table. Hermione crawled across toward him, laughing. Draco's eyes widened as his shirt gaped away from her, displaying the supple body beneath.
"Your face!" Hermione climbed onto his lap, unceremoniously straddling him. Draco dropped his tumbler of firewhisky when her head settled onto his shoulder. Carefully, he removed the strand of pearls, dropping them on the floor beside the sofa.
"What's wrong with my face?" He settled his hands on her exposed thighs and knew he had to distract himself.
"Not a damn thing." His fingers toyed with the bottom of his shirt, grazing the tiny scraps of lace on her hips. She caught his earlobe in her teeth, giggling when he groaned.
*Quick. Think of something else. Quidditch. Goblins. Father. McGonagall naked. McGonagall shagging Filch. No, too much.*
Hermione rocked in his lap, her fingers in his hair, pulling, tugging as her lips danced across his skin. Her shirt was bunched around her waist, but she no longer cared. She was addicted to the feel of his skin against hers, his hands wandering up her back, his lip against the hollow of her throat. Hermione threw her head back, thrusting her chest forward as she ground into him. She didn't have the slightest idea what she was doing to him, but as unfamiliar as it was, she couldn't resist the sensations.
Draco knew he should stop. As much as he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and ravish her in his bed, he didn't want her to regret their actions in the morning. He wondered where his trousers had gone when he saw Hermione toss her wand across the sofa. She had also vanished her bra for that matter and he ached to touch her.
"Granger." Draco bit her neck, knowing it would leave a mark. If she didn't stop grinding into him, he was going to lose it. He hadn't come in his bloody shorts since fourth year and here was Hermione Granger making him feel like a randy teen.
"Shut up." He could feel the dampness of her knickers against his throbbing erection and almost lost himself in her whimpers.
In a moment clarity, he removed Hermione from his lap, rushing from the room. He wrenched open the cabinet over the washroom sink basin, rifling through the glass bottles. With a sigh of relief and a side of panic, he gathered an amber bottle in his palm.
"Here. Drink this." He thrust the bottle into Hermione's hand, ignoring her petulant frown.
She popped off the lid and downed it, glaring at him. Draco kept a respectable distance between them, waiting for the potion to course through her system. Hermione shook her head, the alcohol induced haze slowly lifting.
"Huh. I guess he was right. That's a bit disturbing. Although, I'm sure it would thrill him to no end." Hermione tapped the corner of her lip with her forefinger. She stared at the imprints of her feet in the carpet, ignoring the wizard across the room.
"Who?" Draco was painfully aware he was attempting to hold a civil conversation with a half naked Hermione Granger while only clad in his grey boxers.
"No matter, Malfoy." Hermione waved her hand, gathering her dark blue dress from the back of the sofa and picking up one shoe. "I'll be out of your hair in a jiff." She bent over at the waist, giving him an alluring vision of her long legs and the cusp of her bum.
Draco tucked her wand into the sofa cushions, kicked her shoe under the coffee table and crossed his arms. Hermione continued to frown but stood stock still, searching his eyes.
"Stop it, Granger." Draco walked slowly around the sofa and removed the dress from her hands before grasping her shoulders.
"Stop what? I mean, I thought everything was fine, but obviously it wasn't and you want me to go so I'm going. I didn't expect you to want me, no one ever has. Its fine and.."
"Stop it, Granger. Merlin, you're completely infuriating. I don't know what sort of bollocks that tosser Weasley ingrained into that pretty little head of yours, but this is bloody ridiculous." Hermione didn't move away from his body heat, even as he pressed her into him.
"Oh, well, it's simply.." She paused, considering her words carefully while Draco's fingers toyed with the hair on the nape of her neck.
"Nothing is ever simple with you, woman."
"Ron said he's need half a bottle of firewhisky to look at me twice. He'd pour me glass after glass until I couldn't bloody see straight. H-he'd blame me for his..his inability to..well you know, pour a sobering potion down my throat and send me home. All the while of course, he proclaimed he was the best someone like me could ever expect to have and no one in their right mind would be attracted to me."
"You believed him?" He swallowed the bile in his throat with difficulty.
When Draco was a child, he fervently wished someone would put the bushy haired freak in her place. He thought all she needed was a good reprimand and she'd step in line, be exactly what she was supposed to be. She was beneath all of them. It was ridiculous to him that a Mudblood could perform better than he in anything.
Of course, after the fall of the Dark Lord, after watching her writhe on the floor of his family's Manor, after seeing her blood was the same as everyone else's, he'd discarded the antiquated notions of his ancestors. He'd been taken in by her kindness. Especially after she had approached his family in the Great Hall, making sure they were alright. Draco discovered, in that moment, his fondness for the Gryffindor, as much as it chaffed him to admit it. It grew greater than he thought possible after she willingly testified for him before the Wizengamot. He never would have done such a thing, but she was just so damn forgiving and apparently incredibly naive as well.
"I wasn't sure. I've been a bit of a mess since the war and I mean, he only said such things when he was completely pissed. He was quite nice without a spot to drink, but I think I always wondered. And then you..and I just thought.." Hermione sighed, feeling herself lulled by the warm hand spinning circles on her back.
"Fuck it." Draco unceremoniously tossed Hermione over his shoulder and headed into his bedroom.
The expression on Hermione's face as she bounced on his bed would have been comical in another situation. As it was, he only wished to stop the incessant ramblings of her mind. He knew it was a long shot. When did Hermione Granger ever stop thinking; but he couldn't bear it any longer.
He didn't know how to explain. He, Draco Malfoy, did not know how to tell Hermione fucking Granger that he didn't want to treat her like a one off. He didn't want to treat her like one of the many slags he'd bedded. He didn't want to treat the woman he was bound to marry like she was worth less than. He also didn't want her first sexual experience to be marred by the haze of alcohol. He wanted her to remember everything and savor it.
Hermione scrambled along the satin sheets until she hit the headboard. Draco growled as he climbed onto the bed, his grey eyes darkened with unmistakable lust. He encircled her ankle, yanking her down the bed and crawled on top of her, bracing his weight on his hands.
"I'm going to make you forget every lie Weasel ever spoke. Every time you speak his name, I'm going to shag you senseless." The clasp in her hair fell to the side, splaying her loose, dark curls across his light blue sheets.
His dress shirt was bunched under her breasts, the lace of her bra teasing him. He wondered when it had made a reappearance. Her eyes were wide, though whether it was with disbelief or panic, he couldn't be sure.
"Close your eyes." With his palm on her stomach, he lowered himself beside her, watching the rise and fall of pebbled peaks encased in blue.
For a moment, Hermione wished to rebel. She wanted to gather her sparse belongings and race back to her flat to analyze every passing moment. Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart. She knew it was truly only a matter of time before Malfoy discovered what Ron and even Viktor knew to be true. She hadn't an ounce of sex appeal, which really didn't bother her as much as it probably should.
She held her breath, while nimble fingers opened the white dress shirt barely clinging to her goose pimpled flesh. Warm hands drew intricate circles across her abdomen, teasing the edge of her lacy knickers, fingering the band of her bra.
When she thought back to their first time, she still wouldn't know how her remaining pieces of clothing were removed. She only knew she was naked beneath Draco Malfoy. His hot breath against her neck, his lips pressed to hers, probing, searching. Her skin on fire, his hands gently squeezing her breasts, painting circles of moisture across rosy peaks. His hard body on top of hers, whispered words of encouragement while her shaking fingers grazed his chest. A knee between her thighs, spreading her legs. The first touch at the apex of her thighs. Beads of sweat dipping into the valley between her breasts. Stuttered breaths, whimpers, gasps, moans and even growls. A fistful of hair tugging her head backward. Silky strands caught between petite fingers. Nails raking down his pale back, pulling him closer and it never being close enough. Shoving him backward, climbing astride his narrow hips. Pinning his wrists above his head, attacking his lips until she was rewarded with a groan and a rumble. Grasping his hardened length in her hand, marveling at the oxymoron of its rigidity and softness. Watching his eyes squeeze tightly shut as she stroked him before he tossed her onto her back. The laughter filling his bedroom when she wrapped her legs around his waist. His smirk against her cheek, with his fingers in her most delicate places until she writhed beneath him, begging him for more. The sharp gasp the first time she felt herself fill with him, thinking she couldn't possibly feel anymore pleasure, until he became to move.
"Fuck, Malfoy." Draco bit her neck, hard, adjusting her leg behind his back.
"Draco. Say it." He groaned as her nails dug rivets into his lower back.
"Merlin, Draco." He could feel her pulsing around him. He pulled back to watch her. No one would recognise the Hermione Granger beneath him. Her skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat. A light flush decorated her lightly tanned skin. Her bottom lip was swollen, red and tightly clenched between her teeth. Whimpers of discontent escaped between her pants of desire.
"Stop teasing me." Hermione's head thrashed from side to side while she clawed his chest. He drew one of her legs over his shoulder, slapping a perfectly exposed arse cheek. She gasped, her eyes flying open, darkened with want.
"Tell me what you want." Draco plunged into her, as her back arched, offering him a perfect breast for tasting.
"I want you...to fuck me." He slapped her arse again, withdrawing achingly slow. "Draco."
As the unexpected yet titillating sting on her bottom pushed Hermione over the proverbial edge, his name on her lips was his very undoing. He collapsed, sliding off her as their sweat mingled with sighs of contentment and wonder.
"Are you alright?" Hermione stared at the ceiling, unable to see anything really, but she felt a bit awkward. Draco propped his head on a bent elbow beneath his head, finally able to regulate his breaths.
"I think so." Hermione laughed, "Try to wait until I go back to my flat, before you send your owls."
"Owls? Whoever would I send owls at this time of morning?" Draco frowned, wondering if there was a subtle edge to her words.
"I'm sure the Slytherin Sex God has to confirm his reputation by deflowering the Gryffindor Princess." She hadn't meant to come across as bitter as she sounded.
The dark as pitch hid her pained expression and also his sudden movement. Her breasts were flattened, her head constricted by hard elbows beside her jaw and fingers in her unruly hair.
"Hermione Granger, I shall not be discussing our sexual escapades with anyone. I will probably always be an arrogant arse. I'm a Malfoy. However, I will never sink so low as to bring embarrassment upon my wife. I will say horrid things. I'll be inconsiderate. I'll make you cry, because I don't know any better yet. I don't know how to love you because I've never truly loved anyone beyond my mother. I'm not going to tell you I love you, until I'm absolutely positive I do. I fancy you. I have begrudgingly admired you for years. I hate Harry Potter for pointing out such things as well, however, what happens in our bedroom? That stays here. I'm not a complete cad.
'And. For your information, my reputation as the Slytherin Sex God is completely exaggerated. There will be no more talk of you returning to your flat. You'll live here with me, until we purchase something else. Now, give me a kiss and go to sleep. We have a horrendously long day tomorrow or rather today. It's my bloody half-birthday and I've already collected my present." Draco leisurely kissed her before flopping onto his side and dragging her against him.
"Yes, sir." Hermione giggled, closing her eyes.
"I like the sound of that."