Chapter Twelve
Hermione
I think it was the sadness in his eyes, the pure agony in his every movement, that made me want to sleep next to Mal-Draco- I definitely had to start calling him Draco- that night. He was restless even in his sleep, so I kept running my hands through his hair in hopes that he would relax. It took a little over an hour, but he was out cold, peace finally working its way into his features. I was able to relax and even I ended up sleeping better than I had in a long time.
The light streaming in from his window woke me the next morning. I stretched, but found the bed empty next to me. There was a moment of panic, that he had left because I had done something wrong, but I looked around and saw him leaning against the window sill, a blanket wrapped around him. I walked over quietly and leaned against the other side of the window.
"Are you feeling any better?" I asked quietly.
He looked at me, then looked back out across the grounds. "I can't think of any words that can describe how sorry I am. Last night… God, I don't even want to think about it. It was so horrible."
"Draco, I really mean it when I say that it was okay. We all explode sometimes. It's bound to happen."
"I could've hurt you, Hermione. I could have… I was so drunk, I don't know what I would've done to you. Why did you trust me?"
It was my turn to sigh. "I don't know really. You were so… lost. I've been there, believe it or not, and I just needed you to know that you weren't alone, because when I had to go through it, I was."
He looked at me like he had never seen me before. "Hermione, I don't know what you did to make me feel like this. I'm so… scared. Everything I knew is gone. I'm left marked for a cause I now know isn't right, and I've done things because of that cause that I will forever regret. I don't know how to come to terms with the two different ideals."
"It's not what you did that matters; it's what you do from here on out that counts. I learned from experience that the best you can do is get out of bed in the morning and greet the day like it would be your last. Don't have any regrets, and atone for it if you feel you have to. Other than that, just breathe. Take it one day at a time. That's what you should do. Everything else will follow."
The strangest look came over his face then, and he almost smiled, "No regrets, huh?"
Before I could finish nodding, his lips were pressed against mine. My kiss last night was nothing, it left a trickle of emotion in its wake, but when he kissed me… it was a tidal wave and I thought I just might drown. When he pressed me against the wall this time, my heart was racing for a different reason. He was gentler than I expected him to be, his hands caressing-not groping- whatever they could get their hands on. When he went to reach for my shirt, I hesitated.
His hands dropped from me as if I had burned him, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you…"
"No, no, you didn't. It's not that, I just… I guess… Here, I'll show you."
I pulled my shirt slowly up and over my head, letting it pool on the ground next to me. I heard his gasp, and oh, how I wished it was because he thought I was beautiful. I knew it wasn't, though. The scars that covered my torso were vivid, harsh lines, crisscrossing in all sorts of horrible patterns. He reached out to me slowly and traced the one right below my sternum sending shivers through my body. Before I could speak, he pulled me to him and held me so tight I had trouble catching my breath.
"No one deserves to experience that, especially not you. Gods, Hermione, I'm so sorry for everything that has happened to you, even the things I didn't do. You shouldn't have had to face so much alone."
"You shouldn't have, either." I cleared my throat a little. "I can put my shirt back on again if it freaks you out. I know it's gross…"
He kissed my temple, the sweetest gesture anyone had ever done for me, and pushed me away just enough so he could look at my face. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Why on earth would I want you to put your clothes back on?" He smiled that dazzling smile at me again, and I found myself returning it, tears in my eyes, before he kissed me again.
I let him guide me over the bed where I pulled him down on top of me. He kissed every inch of exposed skin, and by the time he flicked his tongue over my left breast, I was coming undone. He looked for permission before reaching for my pants, and I nodded shyly. He saw the scars that decorated my legs, sighed, and kissed every single one of them. He trailed his fingers up my inner thigh, always getting closer to the small spot of wetness that was beginning to dampen my underwear. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he touched me there, ever so lightly, just through my underwear, and I thought I had died.
I gave him permission, when he asked, to take off my underwear. He did so in a fluid motion and was back within a second to making small circles right where I wanted him to. Slowly, he slipped one finger inside of me, and the sound I made was one I never thought I was possible of making. I sounded sexy even to my own ears.
"You're so tight, love… Is this… is this your first time? For any of this?" He asked gently, and I could feel the blush creep over my cheeks before I nodded. "Well, then, I guess we'll just have to make it special."
I felt what I thought was either an earthquake or a heart attack rumble through my body as he said those words, and for a moment, I truly forgot how to breathe.
