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Chapter 28: Purpose:

They stood in silence for a moment after her enigmatic "I do". Finally, she cupped his cheek and said, "I meant that I do love you. I love you, Draco. I really, really do."

He would take that for now.

He walked past her on the stairs, not touching her, then looked back once and said, "Are you coming?"

"Draco, I don't want us to ruin a perfectly, wonderful weekend by sleeping together."

"I asked if you were coming." He took her hand again, a rather favourite pastime for him, and pulled her into the foyer. It was close to one in the morning, and the only other people around were the man behind the desk, one bellhop, and a man and women sitting on a sofa, heads together, hands clasped. Draco leaned toward Hermione and said, "I bet they're going to have sex tonight."

She grinned up at him and said, "Just because they're embracing on a sofa doesn't mean that they're going to have sex. Maybe it's a blind date."

He smirked and said, "Oh, I didn't mean the young couple. I meant the desk clerk and the bellhop."

She slapped his arm lightly as they finally entered the lifts.

He leaned against the back wall of the lift and said, "Seriously, why don't you want to sleep with me?"

She looked at the floor. She said, "I don't know if I can explain."

He hooked a finger under her chin, forced her to stare at him, and said, "Try."

Just then, the bell on the lift dinged, and the doors opened. He cocked his head toward the hall, to indicate that they should get out of the elevator. They were on his floor. He led her toward his room. They stood outside the double doors of the penthouse suite, one of only three suites on this floor. He now leaned against one of these doors. Pulling on one arm, he pulled her closer.

"Talk."

"Draco, you have to know that by age thirty, I have had relationships before, right?" she started.

"I didn't suppose you were a nun," he answered. She gave him an exasperated look and he said, "Again, I have to remind you that I know what a nun is."

"Shut up for a moment," she said with a slight smile. "What I mean is that, well, I've been hurt before."

"Okay."

"Really badly."

"More than once?" he asked.

"No, just one time, but I don't want to repeat it. I want everything to go right with us."

"Making love is right." She started to disagree, but he silenced her with a kiss. "Let me explain," he urged. He stood upright and pulled her tightly into his arms, wrapping them around her protectively. She looked up at him. "You just said that you loved me, and I love you. Yes, it is quick, yes, it started on a pretense, yes, we've already faced some hurdles, but that doesn't mean this can't work out between us. Making love is a natural progression of a relationship, besides," he grinned, "you might find that I'm really bad at it and want to throw me back."

"Not much experience, huh?" she joked.

"Not much," he said flippantly. "Maybe I'm a nun; did you ever think of that? Maybe you could be my teacher. You always did like to tell people what to do."

She put her face on his shoulder. He stroked her hair. "Draco." That was all she could think to say.

"I know, sweetheart," he answered.

He could spend a hundred-thousand minutes like this with her, and never tire of it. His life before her was inadequate. He was tempted, so tempted, to push open his door, pull her inside, and make love to her for the rest of the night…and the rest of their lives…despite her reservations. However, he knew she was different, and frankly that was part of her charm, and part of his purpose in seeking her out this weekend. So far, every other thing had worked itself out, so perhaps this would, too.

She looked up at him again, his gaze loving and questioning. She was uncertain as to what to do or say. He took care of her dilemma by saying, "Well, I hope you had a perfect birthday. I won't wake you tomorrow, since I have to leave so early." He kissed her forehead. "I'll slip the note under your door in the morning, and on Tuesday morning, we'll have a meeting in my office and discuss it."

He gave her an uncertain smile and then ended with, "Sorry for being a rotten date, and not showing you to your room, but I'm suddenly dead on my feet. You don't mind walking down on your own do you?" In his mind, he called himself a coward, but he couldn't walk her down. He knew he would try to trick her into making love, and he didn't want to use any more deception when it came to Hermione Granger.

She hesitated, before she said, "Umm, no, that's fine."

She moved from his embrace, when he reached out for the hand that he loved to hold so dearly. With his beautiful grey eyes shining brightly in the soft light of the hallway, he looked at her directly, kissed her hand and then leaned forward, stroked her face with his free hand, and with a swift kiss on her lips said, "Happy Birthday, my Granger."

She watched as he turned, opened his door, and enter. He shut the door behind him without a glance back. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake.

She started toward the lifts, chanting that in her mind. She suddenly felt dejected, and she knew that was probably how he was feeling, too. She rode the lifts down to her floor, feeling more and more on edge each second. The feeling of dread would not abate. Her chest felt constricted as she walked to the door of her suite. She leaned against the doorframe, and the empty, hollow feeling that she had felt for so long, which had filled her life for too many years, and was in fact the whole purpose of the recent changes in her life, returned. She had felt empty for so long, yet here was someone who wanted to fill that emptiness, and she was turning him away.

Although he may not have said that was how he felt, she knew that was what she felt.

She walked back and forth across the small sitting room in her suite, mulling everything over in her head, and with a purpose and a new lease on life, she finally made a decision. She threw open her door, and practically flew down the hallway back toward the lifts. If she didn't do this last thing, and it ended tomorrow, she would feel worse than if she never took the chance to change in the first place! Even if it meant that her heart might shatter in a million pieces, she was going to do something that was finally, truly, un-Hermionish!

Draco took a heaving, deep breath when he closed the door on her sweet face. He felt disconsolate and sullen, but he knew he had no reason to feel that way. She was fragile and he would do everything in his power to make sure he didn't mess this up. It was the least he could do. He had lied to her a lot this weekend, but not making love to her, while it was stupid in his mind, it was also honest, and it was something she needed, and he actually respected her for it. He had failed at so many things in his life, and usually his money or his name got him out of his messes, but neither would repair the damage that he might do to her, so he didn't want to risk making a mistake that he couldn't repair, not with her.

He paced along the floor, behind the sofa, and shrugged out of his jacket. He forgot about the note in the pocket for a moment. He threw the jacket on the floor and loosened his tie.

Taking another deep breath he prayed to all that was holy (and all that was not), that she would never ever find out his last little bit of deception. He almost forgot about it himself, and was shocked when it occurred during their walk, but by then he could do nothing to stop it, and it seemed harmless enough at the time. Actually, he had one last, small piece of deception to perform. He had to change the note, but he knew that was one lie that she would like.

He slipped off his shoes, and while he unbuttoned his shirt, he walked over toward the jacket on the floor. Before he bent down to pick it up, he suddenly felt ashamed for leaving her out in the hallway the way he had. What an arse he was! Just because he didn't get his way, he didn't walk her to the door? How stupid was he? He kicked the jacket and threw his tie on the floor. Shame washed over him. He was going to go down there, tell her that he loved her again, give her the note now, as it was, and then ask her in person to marry him. He was no longer afraid of failure, because she gave him courage. He went over to his jacket, picked it up from the floor, and removed the note. He started to unfold it when he heard a knock on his door. He crammed it back in the pocket, and turned toward the sound.

A tightening of his abdomen, and a shuddering of his heart, revealed to him that it was Hermione on the other side of that door. Every nerve and fiber in his body was at war with each other. He spent what felt like hours in agony on whether or not to answer. His heart was beating so profoundly that it throbbed. She knocked again.

He waited, unsure what to do. She knocked a third time and even said his name. "Draco?"

He padded quietly across the dark room and placed his forehead on the smooth wood of the door and said in his mind, "Go away," although that was the last thing he wanted her to do. He swung open the door.

Then time stood still.

They stared at each other, wordlessly hoping that this was real, true, and right. He reached out his hand, only to draw it back. This time, she took his hand, instead of the other way around. She was drawn across the threshold and once she was in the room, he kicked the door shut with his bare foot. His chest was bare, as his shirt hung open on his shoulders. She placed her hands on his chest, and leaned forward and kissed the center, above his beating heart.

He walked backwards toward the bedroom, pulling her along, a smile finally reaching his mouth, after having traveled from his heart. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she stood between his legs. He reached up, unzipped her dress and let it fall to pool around her feet. She stepped out of it, removed her shoes, and then stood before him in all her glory.

She was magnificent, but then, he knew she would be. His gaze didn't idle on her bare breasts and stomach for long, because he looked back into her eyes, reached up and pulled on her hair, his fingers combing lightly through it. His hands went to the back of her head, drawled her face to his, and he kissed her with a lingering sweetness and slowness that she didn't even notice when he pulled her down to sit on his knee.

His fingers went from her face, down her neck, to brush the top swell of her breasts. He kissed her neck, then her collarbone, and said, "Now what shall I do with you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but of course, because he needed no instructions. This was something Draco Malfoy was quite adroit at doing. He had been having sex since he was sixteen years old, but he had never in his entire life made love to a woman, and the reason was simple. He had never been in love.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, because the silence and stillness in the room was becoming too much for her.

"Just that I really do love you, I guess," he said without airs, without jocularity, and without any pretense or humour. "I really do, and I want to say in advance, that I'm sorry for anything I might have done this weekend that goes against your moral code."

She almost laughed and then said, "My goodness, what are you planning on doing to me?"

He laughed as well, then he palmed her breast, and she closed her eyes. He meant he was sorry for an ever so slight transgression, a mere little fable, a slight fabrication, so small it was barely a lie, that he might have committed this weekend that she had yet to find out about, but was probably going to find out about someday. He just wanted to apologize in advance. When she did find out, she was sure to feel a maelstrom of emotions, so an early apology seemed apropos, even though she didn't yet know to what he was referring.

"Just remember that I'm sorry in advance," he said again, before he kissed above her breasts. "You might find out that there's another slight lie floating around me somewhere, and just on the off chance that it's discovered, I apologize, now let's commence to the sex."

She laughed, took his face in her hands and said, "I accept your apology, if you promise you'll get on with it already."

He laughed, stood up, but before she could fall to the floor off his lap, he picked her up and threw her on the middle of the bed, and then he removed the rest of his clothing, much to her admiration.

Once he was completely naked, he leaned over the bed, his fingertips fanned across the valley and planes of her mostly nude form, the pale flesh appearing to glow in the soft light of the night moon whispering through the curtains. He kneeled beside her body, kissed her with an intensity that almost overwhelmed her, and then he reached down and removed the last of her clothing, the satin of her knickers whispering down her legs.

He began lightly caressing her breasts, mumbling her name and other such nonsense, and she almost felt drugged by the lull of his voice. Her body started to stir and tingle, she felt flush, her heart started to beat wildly inside her chest, and all he had done so far was to lightly touch her and kiss her.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to his arms and then his chest. She moved both of her thumbs over his nipples and he moaned into her mouth. His mouth moved from her face, to her throat and neck. With a slowness that seemed almost cruel, rather than deliberate, he kissed around each breast, never lingering on one and never touching the centers.

She started to move underneath him and she nervously laughed and said, "You're killing me."

"Oh what a sweet, sweet death it shall be, my Granger," he mumbled against the sensitive skin of her stomach. He finally took one of her nipples in his mouth, and she placed both hands in his hair, hugging his face closer to her when his mouth closed around the aching center. His right hand moved down her stomach and he grasped her hip before moving lower, down her thigh, then back up, between her legs.

Her fingertips dug into his shoulders and she almost told him to stop, but honestly, that would serve no purpose, and he probably wouldn't be able to stop anyway, and she didn't really want him to stop, she just didn't know how to process everything she was feeling for the man on top of her.

Her hips thrust upwards to meet the demands of his hand, sexual impulses swirling around her core, shock reverberating around her entire being. His mouth came back to hers, urgent, seeking, demanding, and then retreating.

He moved his mouth down her body and she realized that she was not participating in the least and that hardly seemed fair. She said, "Shall I do anything."

Draco Malfoy lifted his head, looked at her strangely, and couldn't help himself - he started to laugh. "You are a right funny, gal, Hermione Granger. Shall you do anything, indeed? Yes, shut up and let me continue." His mouth moved over her hips and pelvic bone, and she could tell that he was still laughing, because she felt the laughter between his kisses, and he even said once more, "Funny little thing."

So she surrendered totally to him, she couldn't think clearly anyway. This new passion was all consuming and it thrilled and excited her. She had many lovers, but no one made her feel this special, or held her in such a high regard.

She realized that she was completely and utterly enthralled with the man on the bed with her. She was still thinking about how incredible it was merely to be with him, when he entered into her. She began to pulse around his throbbing erection, and she could no longer form coherent thought. She would marvel at the wonderment of falling in love with such a man later.

She arched underneath him as he cupped her backside, to draw her closer. Her knees were bent and her legs partially around his hips. He tried to support his weight with his arms. He demanded that she open her eyes to look at him. She did, but then he closed his. She bit her lip, moaned, and began to crest, all the while watching his face. His pleasure plastered on his face, and she wanted to memorize it. He took her to new heights with each deep, slow, thrust. She soon matched his rhythm, as it seemed he was languidly drawing the final act out to torture her.

Soon, she was spiraling out of control. Okay, so she had orgasms before, but seriously, nothing as intense as this. She wanted to remember this feeling forever. She even cried out, which later would embarrass her, but at the moment seemed perfectly fitting. The feeling was close to pain, and when she cried out his name, he finally opened his eyes again, said, "I know," (which she found odd), and then they exploded together in a sweet delirium which was bordering on the obsolete.

He fell down on top of her and for a second he wanted to laugh again, but only because he had never experience a release such as that. Bloody hell, making love was so much better than sex. He would have to make sure he only made love from now on, which meant she was his forever. She might view it differently. She might think she was 'stuck' with him, but he knew how lucky he was to have found her, even if he had to lie and manipulate things in the beginning to make her his.

"So," he said breathlessly. He sighed, pulled on to him and she placed her head on his chest.

When no other words came after his feeble little, 'So' she said, "That was pretty good, huh?" She leaned over him and kissed his nipple.

"Wasn't it though," he agreed. "So much better than I thought."

She hit his chest and said, "Hey!"

"I meant, oh hell, who knows what I meant. I can barely speak, let alone think."

She soon slept, but he remained awake. He remained awake the rest of the night, merely watching her as she slept. He fantasized about their futures, their lives together, even about all the fun they would have making love again. The first light of dawn started to play around the room, washing over her sweet repose. He stared at her for a long time, and then finally, he shook her arm.

"Granger, I have to leave soon, but I think we need to talk first." She opened her eyes and smiled, her arms stretching over her head.

"Do you want me to read the note before you leave? Is that it?" she asked.

Bloody hell, and damn it all! He forgot all about the effing note! He spent hours staring at her while she slept, all the while, the note was in the other room in his jacket pocket, waiting to be changed to a marriage proposal, and now he ran out of time. He knew that she had already read the note, so she knew it wasn't already a marriage proposal, but still, he thought it would be sweet to change it.

In addition, he wanted her answer before he told her his last, little lie.

And now it was almost too late.

"About the note," he said.

(Dum, dum,, dum...)

A/N: Okay everyone, don't kill me, but I forgot this was ready to be posted. In fact, the next chapter is already in the document manager upload section, too. I thought I already posted this one, and I was wondering (once again) why I didn't get any reviews for it, and then I saw that it wasn't posted. Sorry. HA! I'm on a long stretch at work again, that's my only excuse. I'll post the next one in a couple of days.