CHAPTER SIXTEEN – PART ONE

Festival of Sins
The Den and Centro, London, England
December 13, 2003 – Saturday Night (Special Event: Carnival of Naughty Fun – A Celebration of 'Superbia - Pride')

Before we stepped up to turn over our tickets to the club's doorman, I asked Gin for a last minute perusal. "You're beautiful," my friend loyally reassured me. "He'd be stupid not to notice."

Yes, well, Malfoy was known for being quite stupid on occasion.

Godric, I was as nervous as a virgin tonight, my palms actually sweating! It was perfectly understandable though, as this last year I'd been tossed around the chaotic seas of emotion worse than Viola De Lesseps (a favorite deuteragonist of mine). In truth, I was almost expecting a cliché tragic dénouement to Draco's and my story - my confidence was that shaken up. That same creeping voice of doubt that had often plagued me since Ron's belittlement of my character during our break-up was insidiously whispering to me now, taking small bites out of my mettle: What if Malfoy had only agreed to meet me to inform me that 'Angelique' was expecting his child and that was why he'd so spectacularly dumped that bitch-slag, Astoria? And, oh yes, was I up for one last shag-off for old time's sake?

Simply ridiculous, right?

Still, I'd allowed such misgivings to dictate my formal wear for tonight's meeting, so I was covered either way. I'd gone in for a mix of sexy, yet elegant to make it clear that I wasn't here for an easy, dirty ride against the wall, but for a long, hungry seduction of the heart - so long as there was no other woman in the picture to fuss it up. The white, taffeta dress fell tastefully to mid-thigh, and sported three-quarter sleeves. The gathered neckline dipped low, yes, and was quite daring, as was the way the outfit tightly fitted my curves like a glove about my waist and hips, but the overall look was classy, not cheap. I partnered it with a pair of elegant silver sandals with an ankle strap, the three inch heel made of clear resin (that small vanity is what had sold me on the shoe, honestly). My toes were painted crimson, same as my nails and my lips – the only 'wantonness' about me, as my jewellery and the rest of my makeup was really understated. Overall, I was hoping my date would like the package, as the effort had been partially for him, too, not just for my own gratification.

We passed our tickets over, were hand-stamped, and shuffled inside the club as the line behind us pushed forward, patrons eager to participate in the sins of alcohol and flesh as the end of the year drew close.

The place was throbbing with the press of bodies as the last Carnival of 2003 packed the house. The music was loud with heavy booty-bass, and the lighting had been change to reflect the season: red flashed with green, silver with blue, purple with gold. It was an amazing synchronization of visual and auditory stimuli that must have taken the club's entertainment engineers weeks in advance to work out.

Gin and I headed towards our usual table. Zabini was already there, and he instantly focused on my best friend, moving to intercept her with quick stride. As soon as she was in his arms, he dragged her against the wall and started ravishing her mouth, his hands sliding over her body as if he was E'd up and needed to touch and pet every inch of her. My friend was clearly in her own little Heaven from the attention.

To my immediate disappointment, I didn't see my date, however. Maybe he was in the loo, or at the bar, or…

Wait, what if he'd backed out at the last minute?

No, that was just me choking. He'd come tonight, otherwise Zabini would have said something (at least, I'd hoped he'd be man enough to do so). Maybe Malfoy was nutting up before stepping forward? I'd just have to wait a bit for him to show. I moved out of the pedestrian path and closer to the table, scanning the crowd for a familiar head of platinum hair, trying not to pay attention to the fact that Gin's tongue was currently rammed down Blaise's throat and he had a hand up her skirt. I was on sensory overload as the seconds ticked by and my search found no match.

Between one beat and the next, I felt him as a wall of intense heat behind me, pressing in. His arms came around, clad in dark blue silk, one wrapping about my waist, the other holding up a red rose and the torn end of his admissions ticket with the imprint of my lips in bright red gloss still frozen over the lettering. It was definitely the one I'd sent him, and he was letting me know he'd come specifically because I'd asked it of him. He tucked the stub into my cleavage, wedging it against the lace of my bra through the neckline of my dress, suggestively rubbing it against the mound of one breast and then used the satiny petals of the rose to stroke across the same sensitive flesh before handing it off to me.

Taking the chance – I'd come this far, so why not? - I fully leaned back into him, and rested my head against his chest, my hips against his. His hard erection snuggled into the crack of my backside. Even in heels, he stood inches taller; I liked the differences in our heights. His lips rested against my temple, and he fully embraced me with what felt to be a deep sigh of relief. We stood that way for several minutes, ignoring the rest of the world, tuning out the crowd and the music, and I felt the rightness of being with him again settle over my very aura.

He slid his mouth down to my ear, pressing over it so he could be heard and spoke to me. "Thank you for coming tonight."

I nodded and turned my head, mouthing, 'you, too.'

"Dance with me," he requested, loosening his hold to take my hand and lead me towards the edge of the floor. A sultry beat I didn't recognize – some remix by the DJ – played, giving us the opportunity to come together. We pressed noses into necklines and held on for all we were worth, swaying to the music. Several times, Draco burrowed under my earlobe into my hair or in the crease of my neck and inhaled my scent, sighing with longing. Each time, his arms tightened around me a fraction more.

When the beat eventually sped up long minutes later, we didn't let go or change styles. Staying at the very edge of the dance floor, we used the time to intimately reconnect our formerly divergent hearts, reassuring ourselves and each other that this was real, and that we were finally together again. I lost track of all time and space, falling into Draco, letting his warmth and scent penetrate and envelope me.

"Can we go into the back to talk?" he asked, his lips pressed to my ear, startling me back into reality.

I nodded, and we reluctantly separated. My lover took my hand and led me towards the now-familiar "Employees Only" door in the back. The bouncer nodded in recognition and let us through. It seemed my date had advanced-purchased a room for us from the cashier, just in case – room number one, where we'd originally been assigned in May at the start of all of this. It seemed rather poetic, actually, that we were returning there now to begin a new chapter in our lives (and I hoped it would be together).

He fit the gold key into the lock and turned the knob, letting me go before him in a gentlemanly fashion. My feet felt like they moved through molasses as I crossed the threshold and entered the familiar room. In a direct reversal of the other six suites, this one had a black carpet with red sheets on the mattress. The walls were painted a muted grey. Everything else was the same, though, even down to the bowl filled with colourful condom choices and the basket filled with naughty goodies.

I sat on the end of the bed, keeping my legs tightly together, and attempting to sit for Business, rather than business. Draco locked the door behind us and came to sit at my left. He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable, and after thirty seconds, stood up and began pacing. One pale hand ran through his hair, dropped over his eyes and smoothed over his face with clear nervous anxiety. I could feel he was fighting to let go of his pride to say the words we both needed to hear. I sat quietly, waiting.

By the fourth turn about the short space, he stopped, fell to his knees before me and took my hands in his larger ones, pressing kisses to the knuckles. "I was wrong to let you go," he finally admitted, laying his cheek against my fingers. "I was a fool. But I need you to understand what I was thinking – all of it. Will you listen?"

"Of course," I conceded. It was important to air the past if we were to go forward.

His long, dark gold lashes tickled my skin as he turned my hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. "Thank you." He sat back on his heels and looked up at me. "When we first got together in May, Granger, it was like-" He fumbled for the right words. "-like a fucking dream come true. You're so amazingly beautiful and incredibly sexy, and you were so receptive to my touch. You wanted me to push your boundaries and bend you to my will, and you trusted me with your pleasure despite our… well, our really bad history. Each time after that just got better and better. By the fourth time we'd met up, it felt like we were made for each other – you the willing sub, me your obliging Dom." He glanced down at my knees, his hands still loosely holding onto mine. "But then, things changed that night. I felt it in both of us."

I conceded with a simple nod, recognising the truth in his words. By August, I'd begun to seriously shift my thinking about what I wanted from Malfoy, flirting with the idea of taking our meetings out of this nightclub and into the light of day. Apparently, he had, too.

"After that Carnival, it wasn't all about dominating you anymore." He faltered, as if admitting this were a difficult endeavor. "I started fantasizing what it would be like for you to top me on occasion - and that scared the hell out of me. I'd sworn never to let anyone control me like that." He hesitantly peeked up at me. "You remember we talked about it?"

I nodded. It was one of the few times he'd let me see beyond his carefully-constructed façade to the man inside.

"Even then, I couldn't seem to help myself. My every waking and sleeping thought was about us together in a variety of ways – mostly sexual, but sometimes it was just about us doing things that normal couples did, too. When I brought you to my suite at Hyde Park, it wasn't planned, but it didn't feel wrong." He looked up at me with vulnerability reflecting in his mercurial eyes. "Until you, I've never brought any woman there, Hermione. That's my private sanctuary away from the world, where I go when I need solitude. I'm usually very protective of it, but I didn't think twice about taking you there, to my bed. It felt so bloody right to make love to you like we did and in that place."

He'd brought me to his private man-cave, and not his common shag nest? I felt strangely honoured by that.

"When I saw that drunken Muggle grab you in the club that time-" The change in his expression was night and day; darkness clouded his expression and his eyes shuttered to half-mast. He looked very much like the boy I'd known back in our sixth year at school: closed off, angry, a menacing violence simmering under the surface. "I'll admit I wanted to kill him, Hermione. I wanted to hurt him for daring to touch what I was beginning to think of as mine. I'd become possessive of you, even though we hadn't formally changed the nature of our relationship. The only thing that stopped me was the thought that you'd never forgive me if I Avada'd him."

My disapproval alone had stayed his hand? The thought made me realize just how much power I actually had in our relationship – and without me even recognizing it.

"Later, when we were sitting in the Hit Wizards Office and giving our statements, my recorder was Kevin Entwhistle," he explained. "Remember him from school? He didn't believe me when I said I was out at the club that night with you. In fact, he almost became belligerent in his assertion that there was no way that you –Gryffindor's princess and war heroine- would be seen with the likes of me, a scumbag Death Eater." He paused, and I could see him trying to fence the pain such a thought brought up.

"Former Death Eater," I firmly rebuked, immediately putting an end to that self-deprecating charge. "Honest Curse-Breaker now for Gringotts."

He nodded in reluctant agreement. "Still, you understand? That's when it hit me: we're from two different background customs, and our reputations are as opposite from each other as north and south. Being together... no one would ever accept it, except maybe our closest friends. I couldn't reconcile my need to have you with the reality of such a hopeless situation. It became too much all at once. When I saw Freckle Face professing his undying love for you and begging you to give him another chance, I was hurt seeing him touch you, knowing that even though he'd been a complete wanker arsehole in cheating on you, people would still choose to overlook that and approve if you went back to him. He could offer you the one thing I couldn't: being in an acceptable relationship."

He sounded terribly resentful, and I found I didn't like that sulky tone coming from such a beautiful mouth.

"By the time I'd made it to the elevator," he continued, not perceiving my eyes straying to his lips, watching them form words and wondering what they'd taste like right that second, "I'd convinced myself that Weasley was the bloke you were supposed to be with, not me. It seemed the right conclusion. I mean, you grew up together, you were friends, and face it, he's almost as loved as you by the world, seeing as he's Potter's best friend and an Auror, a righteous protector of all wizard-kind." He mockingly rolled his eyes and shook his head, and I couldn't help but giggle.

Just as suddenly as his humour appeared, though, it was gone, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon him. Gripping his hands tightly, I made to speak up, to debate his assertion about Ron and me, but he shook his head. "Let me finish, please." I sealed my lips and let him speak his piece, saving my rebuttal for later.

He let out a heavy breath. "I snapped at you that night because I was bitter at those thoughts, and said something cruel to intentionally drive you away. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry," he sincerely apologized. "I knew the minute the elevator doors closed I'd been an idiot, and wanted to make it up to you, which is why I invited you to Rome for dinner. I thought we could take it slow and try to see if it were possible to enjoy an evening together without sex involved, to see if maybe we could make it work, despite my misgivings. It was going so well…" His lips tightened, and he looked a bit vexed. "But you threw off my plans when you bluntly asked about where we stood and if there was anyone else. I hadn't expected that question, but I tried to be honest with you, despite the fact it went against my very Slytherin nature. The truth only made you angry, though, and when I went to explain my side of things, I'd made it worse. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings again, but… let's be blunt, Granger: you never really did tell me in plain-speak until that night that things had changed for you. Sure, I'd wished, and a part of me was beginning to believe that maybe you'd wanted the same thing I did, but I couldn't read your mind."

I wanted to refute, but kept my mouth shut. I'd promised to hear him out, after all.

He pulled one hand out of mine and ran it through his hair, and I was beginning to realise that this was an anxious tick he'd acquired somewhere along the line. A pit of churning emotion opened up in my belly again, and I worried he was just about to say something that would cut me to the quick.

"I'll go for broke and tell you the truth again, because I know you'd get even angrier with me if I lied," he explained, taking a deep breath and confessing all. "For the first four months we were meeting at the club, I'd also been seeing those two other women I'd told you about."

OUCH!

"But I'm not seeing either of them anymore, and to be fair, you'd made it clear from the start that you were only looking for casual with me," he stated, and I had to remember that he was technically right. I'd been the one who'd initially set the parameters of our interactions, and I'd stated upfront that first night that all I'd wanted was some fun, nothing serious. "I didn't know you'd eventually want more," he continued, licking his lips in nervousness, "and frankly, as each month passed, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop – for you to turn to me one night and say, 'thanks, it's been fun - cheers!' and never look back."

Well, I suppose I could have done…

"In October, when you asked me if we could go exclusive, it was like wading through a dream again," he persisted. "I just couldn't believe that you'd want that with me. All of my insecurities about our different stations in life and about our past rose to the front to mock me," he admitted, regretfully dropping his gaze to my feet. "And then there were the other issues. Seriously dating you meant some big changes. For instance, you'd said you were a 'switch', which meant I'd have to give up some of my control to you, allowing you to dominate me on occasion. That scared me. And having to fight everyone's disapproval of me all over again for daring to 'corrupt' you, the world's Golden Girl – that was quite daunting. And then there was the issue of you maybe realising later that we were facing impossible odds and that I just wasn't worth it." He swallowed and it was loud in the quiet room. "If I'd let you in and you left me to go back to Weasley because being with him would be easier…"

He left the rest unspoken, but I could hear the pain in his voice.

Godric Almighty, I had been contemplated mere months ago in a moment of weakness ditching Draco and returning to Ron for exactly the reason he'd feared: because it would be less problematic in the long-run. True, it had been a fleeting thought, but I'd definitely had it. My lover's fears and doubts were certainly founded, weren't they?

He looked as truly ashamed by the same inadequate feelings as I was struggling with just then. "Given everything, Granger, and despite what I'd hoped for, I started to believe that maybe you and I outside of this place just wouldn't be possible. I talked myself into the thought that we shouldn't change what we had going because it would be just too hard a fight." He deeply inhaled and let it out in a rush. "But I was looking at the situation through my Slytherin sensibilities, and I'd forgotten that you're a Gryffindor - born to fight impossible odds. You didn't seem to understand my fears, because you have enough courage to see them as easily overcome obstacles. I couldn't, and I had trouble conveying that correctly because I'd been caught flat-footed."

It was true; I'd completely disregarded his concerns that night at the Italian restaurant-villa, and I hadn't exactly been forthcoming with my thoughts until that confrontation, either. I'd knee-jerk reacted that night, my feelings hurt by his perceived rejection.

I was starting to understand why he'd been so reluctant to commit.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "When you left Rome, it ripped me in half, sweet thing. I'd spent that whole next week plotting how to win you back. I'd enlisted Blaise and we followed you and Red to that club in the old church. Transfiguring a costume had been easy, but it took us a while to find you two with so many people. When I saw you dancing with that-" He gritted his teeth and stopped himself from getting fancy with the adjectives, as I'd previously requested. "-with that Muggle dressed like a doctor, I'd stepped in. When you'd slapped me, I'd lost my cool. I wasn't thinking when I brought us back to the suite – I'd just wanted a place that was quiet so we could talk. But that costume…" He shut his eyes and a pinkish tinge highlighted his cheeks. "That sexy, little costume was so bloody tempting!"

His free hand skimmed up my smoothly-shaved calf, stopping just behind the knee – an erotic spot for me, as he had so rightly pointed out in Diagon Alley the other week. My breath hitched, but I didn't try to stop him. In truth, I wanted him to touch me right about now. My back teeth ached for that electric current that shot all through me as my arousal was stimulated.

"I wanted you to let me seduce you. I wanted you to trust me to be your Dom again. I thought if we could just go back to the way things had been in the beginning then everything would be fine between us again," he owned up. "But we couldn't go back because somewhere along the line, you'd gone and switched on me. You didn't want a Dom anymore – you wanted a partner. Because of all of the ticks against us, I wasn't sure I could be that for you. Honestly, I was too much a coward to try. Even as you'd Disapparated from my suite, I knew I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life." His fingers traced a circle pattern behind my knee, setting off a detonation of sparks up my thighs.

"The thing with Astoria – it was rash and stupid," he candidly stated. "My parents were pushing me to settle down, and she kept buzzing around, ingratiating herself to them. I figured, 'fine, why the hell not?' I wanted you to think I could move on, too, since it seemed you were determined to leave me behind."

I nodded, having already assumed what that relationship with Miss Greengrass was really all about. Yes, it had still stabbed deep, but I suppose, I'd done the same to him with Daniel. The tit-for-tat was nothing more than petty foolishness that cost us both so much.

"It was when I saw you at the Ministry two weeks ago, that I realised I couldn't let you go," he professed, his fingers inching up one thigh. "Standing in that ugly pink restroom, all I wanted was for you to look at me as you did in September at my Hyde Park flat – with trust and openness." He freed his other hand from my hold, and it mirrored its mate on the opposite side as he sat up, his chest pressing against my knees. His fingers smoothed up and down my bare legs, stirring my need. My knickers began to moisten with anticipation. "You're it for me, Granger. That day we met in the Alley and we touched again, and you wouldn't answer my question about falling in love and marrying someone else, I knew right then that I was going to do whatever it took to win you back." He raised his face to mine, his eyes earnest in their appeal, his hands pausing in their sensual study of my legs. "And after getting your note… Nothing is going to stand in my way anymore – not my fears, not my parents, not my friends, not anyone in our whole bloody world. I want us more than any of that. The question is, do you?"

I kicked my own bum for having run from this discussion in Rome back in October. If only I'd stayed to actually talk it through, perhaps we could have come to this place two months earlier and avoided all of the drama in between.

No, on second thought, maybe not. The time Draco and I had spent apart had clearly been good for our individual growth. Quite frankly, there had been a part of me throughout the last year that thought many of the same things my lover had, and for the same reasons. His fear of committing to me given the odds against us was very relevant, and couldn't be dismissed as simply cold feet. The space and experiences in between our break-up and tonight had forced us both to quickly grow up in our own ways and to realise what we really wanted out of life. I'd decided I wanted a partner for a mate – someone who would be willing to compromise and work with me towards achieving our greatest pleasures and successes in life, both in and out of bed. It seemed Draco had finally decided he would be willing to trust, let go of some of his fears and try for that kind of an equal companionship, too. It had required a switch in both our attitudes and our priorities to force such huge life-altering choices, however.

Ironically, I realised in that moment that the advice I'd so flippantly given Gin not so very long ago regarding how to determine the correct course for her feelings for Zabini were more relevant to Draco's and my situation than I'd previously given credence. It seemed I had assessed my feelings regarding my blond lover the night we'd enjoyed dinner in Italy - somewhere over dinner and before dessert – and in the vaults of my heart, I'd found it a love worth wanting. Despite Astoria, despite Daniel and despite all of the misunderstandings between us in the middle, it appeared that I still held true to that decision.

We were mere inches apart now, he only a bit lower, and I could scent on his breath that he'd had at least one shot of liquid courage before I'd shown up tonight. On his person, he was wearing my favorite aftershave. His hair gleamed with a freshly washed shine. I reached out to touch his chest, and his shirt was silky soft. My crimson-painted fingertips danced up his throat, over his chin to trace his full lips, and I yearned to taste his kiss, to have him touch my sex.

Everything about the adult that Draco Malfoy had grown into drew me in, made me intensely aware of every breath passing through my lungs, every thud of my pulse, and of how lusciously wet I was between my thighs. I craved him in me, around me, through me. I wanted his cock, his mouth, his touch. I wanted him to recklessly fuck me, but with care. My feelings for him weren't logical or even rational; there weren't charts or statistics I could whip out to quantify them, and although there might be books on relationship psychology, astrological compatibilities, or medicinal products that attempted to explain away their existence, those things would never be able to fully capture the real reason. How could I tell him all of that, though? It seemed too great a thing to say – too scary, too powerful.

My heart found the simplest way.

"I love you."

The tension broke, and he flowed up into me and lay me back onto the bed, settling his body over mine, careful not to crush me by supporting his weight on his elbows. Our mouths met and mated, our tongues stroked, the fringe of his bangs tickled my cheek, and his goatee scratched against my chin with a soft rasp.

"I've missed you, sweet thing, so bloody much," he murmured between pulls of lips.

"I've missed you, too," I confessed, holding him close and not letting go.

We spent the remainder of our allotted time in the room just kissing. When there came a knock on the door to remind us that we needed to vacate, we did without fuss, turning the golden key in for what we both understood would be the last time.

Draco and I had met and weathered both our sins here at the Festival, and pride had finally fallen before love. This place had well-served our purposes.

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S EXTENDED NOTES:

Viola De Lesseps is from the movie, "Shakespeare In Love" (a highly recommended watch).

E'd up = British slang for the euphoric feeling that accompanies having taken the illegal drug 'Ecstasy/Exxtasy."