all characters belong to JKR
Chapter 11- Confessions:
Hermione had a slight frown as she entered the spa's main room, hand-in-hand with a certain blond wizard. She looked at him with her peripheral vision and noticed that his look was once of extreme satisfaction. In fact, he looked like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. She even imagined seeing a feather sticking out of his mouth.
She was the canary, but of course.
He was manipulating her. She wouldn't be surprised if he tried everything in his power to get her to kiss HIM today! Even now, as the woman droned on and on about their morning ahead, he had his arm around her, but instead of it being draped casually across her shoulders, he had it tightly around her waist, his hand was gripping her side, and his thumb was slightly moving back and forth.
She knew she was clenching her teeth in frustration. He was now laughing at something the stupid woman was saying, and then he grabbed one hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed her fingertips, and then kept the hand in his.
He looked at her, smiled, and asked, "Doesn't that sound wonderful, sweetheart?"
How would she know? She hadn't heard a thing the woman had just said. All she could hear were warning bells in her head. "Danger, Danger, Danger," they rang. She thought she even heard a siren, saying: "Draco is going to get you!"
"Sounds great," she said with a fake smile on her face, although she had no clue as to what she had just agreed to do.
The lady gave them both white terrycloth robes and showed them to a large dressing room with lockers. Hermione looked around for a place to change. She turned to ask the lady where she should change but the woman was gone and Draco already had his shirt off, and oh…my…goodness…he had a beautiful back. Hermione wasn't even aware she particularly liked backs until this moment.
His shoulders were broad and well defined, his waist small, and, ON NO! She turned around. He was removing his pants.
She opened one of the lockers opposite of Draco, and deposited her bag. Then she stood there like an idiot until she felt him standing behind her. "Aren't you going to get in your robe?"
"After you're done and leave the room," she answered.
He gave a small chuckle and said, "When the woman outside asked if we wanted private changing rooms, or a joint one, you agreed that we should change together in this room, dear Granger. Also, I rather think that would look strange, if I should leave so you could undress. We're supposed to be married. Married people usually dress and undress in front of each other."
"The Amish probably don't undress in front of each other," she said, still talking to the locker.
"Amish? Who are they? Do I know them?"
"They're a sect of people in North America, who live their lives simply and plainly, and by the rules of the bible, and I bet they don't get dressed in front of each other," she rambled.
He frowned. He was standing behind her in nothing but his silk boxers and that was the whole point! She was supposed to see him naked, and he had hoped to see a bit of her in return. However, she wouldn't turn around! Instead, she wanted to talk about some bloody, Yank, married couple from the States with the last name of 'Amish'. He put his hand on her back and asked, "How well do you know these people to know that they don't undress in front of each other?"
She shook off his hand and said, "Are we really having this asinine conversation?"
"You started it. Get naked," he barked. He backed away, removed his shorts, and donned the white bathrobe. He sat on a bench in front of the locker. "I'm in my robe now."
She turned around slowly. He sat on the bench opposite her, his legs crossed at the ankle (his bare legs and bare ankles, thank you), and his arms folded in front of him. The robe was tied at the waist, but the neckline came down into a deep V and she could see his chest, which looked like it matched his back just fine.
There was a knock at the door. The woman outside said, "Are you two ready?"
"Not yet," he shouted. "Hermione, they're going to think we're having sex in here or something." He laughed. She made a gargled sound, but turned back around. "Get naked," he urged softer.
She was biting her bottom lip. There was no choice. There wasn't a corner or crevice for her to crawl in; there was no private chamber, or loo. She turned back toward him and said, "Turn around first."
He threw up his arms, huffed in exasperation, but turned around to face the lockers. "Hurry up."
She kept her eyes on him the entire time. She slipped out of her shorts first, folding them hastily and placed them on the bench. She unbuttoned the three buttons at the top of her shirt and then pulled it halfway over her head, looked at him once more, and then ripped it the rest of the way over, and placed it on top of her shorts.
"Granger, I'm growing old over here, and you don't have on that many clothes," he complained. "Hurry up."
She reached behind her, unclasped her bra, and slipped it down her arms. Just then, the door opened and a strange man walked in.
Everything that happened at that point was a blur to her. She screamed, Draco turned around, stood up, saw her bare breasts, even though her hands went to her chest quickly. He looked toward the door, where a man stood, wide eyed, apologizing profusely, but staring intently at Hermione. Draco stormed over to the man and said, "Get the fuck out of here!" He pushed the man out of the door.
When he turned back around, Hermione had the robe on. Her bra was on the floor, and she was sitting with her back toward him, her head down, resting in her hands.
"He saw me naked!"
"Not completely," he said, to pacify her.
"You saw me naked!" she sounded even more horrified.
"Not completely, and not very much, or very long," he said, almost complaining. He walked over to her and sat on the same bench in the opposite direction. He bumped his shoulder into hers and said, "At least you didn't make him run from the room, screaming. That's always a good sign."
She glared at him.
"Do you still have on your knickers?"
"What, do you want a look at my bare bum, too?" she asked.
"The woman told us to get completely, naked, that's all," he said.
Hermione stood up, turned away from him, reached under her robe, took off her knickers, and then she turned toward him and threw them at him as hard as she could. Since they were made of cotton, and small, they didn't make much impact.
"THERE!" she yelled as she threw them at him.
The knickers hit his shoulder and landed on his lap. He looked at them, made a funny face, looked at her, laughed, and said, "Well, now I don't know what to do, Granger. If I pick them off my lap, you might get angry because I touched your knickers. If I fold them neatly and put them on top of your clothes, you'll think I'm strange, although that's my first instinct. If I stick them in my pocket, you'll think I'm a pervert. I'm at a loss."
She laughed a real, long, hard, good laugh. He joined in as she walked over to him, took her knickers from his lap, bent down carefully, holding her robe in front, she picked up her bra from the floor, and placed all her clothes in her locker.
"Come on, Derek." She held out her hand.
Taken to a room with two massage tables, the young wizard who walked in on them while they were in the changing room came in, followed by a middle-aged witch. "Are you ready for your massages?" the young man asked.
Hermione looked at the table. She looked at Draco. She looked at the man, and then at the woman. She looked down at her robe. When she looked back at Draco, he was already taking his robe off. She averted her eyes as he lay on the table, face down, his head resting in a little cut out, padded, hole. He was completely naked. The woman put a towel over his bum.
She smiled. He had a nice backside, to go with all of the rest of the things that she thought was nice. She wanted to tell Draco not to look, but she knew that would sound strange. The young wizard patted the table and said, "Come on, Mrs. Malone, take off your robe and get on the table so we can get started."
Draco raised his head and said, "Oi, young fellow, you aren't massaging my wife, it's bad enough that you've already ogled her once."
"That's fine," the young man said, whose nametag revealed that his name was Jason. "I'll massage you and Melissa can do your wife."
Hermione leaned back on the table to wait for the inevitable. She knew that Draco was frowning, his face in the little hole. She stood up from the table, kneeled down, almost on the floor, and looked up at him. She said, "He does you or me, Mal...I mean, Derek. What's your pleasure?" She stood up, laughed, removed her robe quickly and went to lie on her table.
Draco looked up just as Melissa was putting a towel across Hermione's shapely backside. His gaze lingered on her long legs, and the dip of her back, to her arms, which she had against her sides, so he couldn't spy even a small part of her breast. He looked at Jason and decided that he would rather the chap massage him, then for him to touch her. If Draco couldn't touch her, no one could. "You massage me," he said to the man. Hermione laughed again, awkwardly, her face in the hole on the table.
"I've never had a massage before," Hermione declared as the woman started to work out the tension in her shoulders.
"Really? You don't know what you've been missing. I'll have to make up for that and give you one sometime," Draco responded.
"I don't think that'll be necessary," she answered back. Draco wanted to remind her that they were supposed to be married, but he couldn't.
Instead, he asked, "Hey, Heather, we've not discussed this before, but where do you want to live now that we're married?" He decided that he could find out a lot about Hermione while they received their massages.
"Well, I just bought that town house…before we married, and I think I'd like to stay there. It's large, but needs a lot of work."
"Oh," he said, absentmindedly. Suddenly, he heard Hermione hum a sound of satisfaction. It sounded almost like a sound someone makes when they're having sex. He grew hard, and then he became uncomfortable because a man was massaging him, and he didn't want anyone to think that his current faux pas had anything to do with Jason, when it was totally brought about because of Hermione. To take his mind off of his embarrassing situation, he said, "I want to live in the Manor."
Hermione frowned and said, "No way would I live there." She was glad they weren't really married.
"I don't mean with my parents, I mean someday, when they're dead," he said.
Hermione couldn't help but to raise her head to look at him. When she did, she saw he was looking at her, too, and he had a devious smile on his face. She put her head back down.
He added, "I didn't think you would want to live with my parents, Herm…Heather."
"I wouldn't want to live in the Manor, no matter what, Derek," she said steadily.
He raised his head again. He was about to ask her why, but he knew why, so he kept quiet. He watched as the woman was massaging Hermione's legs. He growled, still hard, still uncomfortable, with the man's hands now on his legs and he said, "How many kids do you want?"
"One, maybe."
"I want two," he confessed.
"Really? I would have thought that since you were an only child, you would only want one."
"No, I wouldn't want a child of mine to be lonely. With a brother or sister, they would have a built in friend," he continued to confide.
"I liked being an only child," she surmised.
"Well, you didn't need siblings, you had all those friends growing up," he reasoned.
"You had friends," she said slowly. She raised her head. He raised his. They looked at each other.
"What school did you go to?" he asked, flippantly. "Those people were not my friends." He put his face back down.
She continued to look at him. She put her arms under her head, and stared at him for a long time before she said, "Two it is, then." She felt badly that he had a lonely childhood. She didn't know that he felt isolated and friendless at school. The more she thought on it, the more she could see that what he said was true.
He looked at her again, and her eyes were closed. He mimicked her body, so that his head was now resting on his arms. He looked down her body and could see the side of her right breast, and its gentle swell, because her arm was no longer in the way, blocking his view. He noticed that the other man had temporarily stopped massaging him and was looking at her as well.
"Hey, chap, eyes off my wife," he said. Hermione looked over, saw that both Draco and the man could see the side of her breast, so she hurried and put her arms back down to her sides, her head back in the hole. Draco asked, "Do you want to keep working, after marriage that is?"
"Yes," she said. "Don't you want your wife, I mean me, to work?"
"No, I'd like that, especially since you work for me. I can sexually harass you and you can't do anything about it," he said with a laugh. He put his head back in the hole.
"According to this bogus employment contract you keep mentioning, you can do that anyway," she retorted.
"True," he answered.
The man finished with Draco, just as the woman was finishing with Hermione. The woman said, "Stay there, and relax. Someone will come and get you for your baths." Draco sat up, towel draped across his lap. Hermione stayed where she was. She couldn't get up without him seeing her. Draco hopped off the table, slung the towel loosely down on his hips, tucked the side in securely, and walked over to her.
"You have oil on your back," he said. He picked up a towel from the end of her table and started to wipe the oil off her back, slowly and meticulously. It felt decadent, but heavenly. He stroked her back softly, rubbing the rough towel over the planes and curves of her spine and shoulders. He rubbed her neck with the towel, and then dropped it on the floor.
He bent down close to her, and said, "All done. You can sit up now."
"I can't," she confessed.
"I'll turn around," he promised. She turned her head to the side, and saw that he had turned toward the other wall. She sat up quickly, and took the towel that was around her bum and placed it around her body. It was short and it gapped slightly in front.
"Where's our robes?" she asked, looking around.
He turned to stare at her. Hell, he couldn't help it. He said, "Come here, my Granger."
Her head snapped up to look at him. "No, now where are our robes?"
He bent down under the table, to a small shelf that was underneath, and held a robe out to her. "Here, Hermione." He walked up to her and instead of just holding it out to her, he opened it, to suggest that he would help her put it on. She slipped one arm inside, while her other hand held the front of the towel. He walked around her body, and helped her get her other hand in the robe. He even tied the waist, which felt extremely sensual to her, for some strange reason. The towel that was on her body dropped to the floor.
He kept the end of the robe's sash in one hand and cocked his head to the side. He wanted to kiss her! Why couldn't she just concede and kiss him already? He pulled on the sash, which made her take the one-step needed to enclose the space that was between them.
She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Kiss me, Granger. I can't wait until the end of the day, and according to you, I can't kiss you, so that leaves you to kiss me. I confess that I want to kiss you so much that my heart aches, so kiss me, please, and put me out of my misery."
(A/N: Damn, Hermione, kiss the man already, right? I don't have anymore written at the moment, so I don't know when the next update might be. Thanks to everyone's kind thoughts and prayer, by the way. They mean more to me than words can express. I may not 'know' any of you, but I feel as if I do!)