I think I've forgotten to mention that there's another round of Dramione Awards going on. Best of 2009. The seconding fase is going on right now, and this will be a fase longer than the actual voting, so now is the time to go read. Also, there are only a limited number of stories that can move on to the next round, so the number of seconds for each story is very important. (Note: This is not relevant to this story as it was begun in December '07 and will be finished in '10, but I do have a couple of other nominations up. Still, as usual, be fair and honest. There should be a link to the Awards up at my bio.)
Oh, and Kupo is finally walking unaided. A few steps at a time, but he's practicing.
Draco hid a frown at the conflicting emotions he was getting from Hermione. She did seem to enjoy and even want his touch, which surprised him and made him positively elated, but she didn't seem to want to want and enjoy it, which… just served to remind him that this was purely physical to her.
He didn't mind, he reminded himself. After all, he got to have her once more. Just once. And with her wearing the bracelet, allowing him access to her feelings, it would be much easier to find a way to make it count.
"Stop staring at me," she quietly said, looking away.
Right. He had to kill off all of this lovesick behavior before it effectively turned her off. "Sorry," he muttered. "Just trying to figure you out." It was a half truth. He certainly hadn't wanted to hear her reply to whether she was only here because she was randy. Some questions really were better left unanswered.
She visibly swallowed and he felt her nervousness increase. Why?
"What's to figure out?" she then murmured, looking up at him from under lowered lashes. "You know what I'm here for."
"I do," he absent-mindedly replied, while wondering why her nervousness now seemed edged with true fear. What was she afraid of? Did she honestly think he could still find it in himself to hurt her? Or reject her? What nonsense!
"Could you perhaps stop focusing so hard on what I feel?" she said, a sharp edge to her words as well as her feelings. Ahh, annoyance. He couldn't help but grin.
"I suppose," he said with a casual shrug. "Maybe you could make an effort to distract me? He did his very best not to ogle too hard when he looked down her body. Tonight it was his. He couldn't wait to touch it, to taste it, to possess it… but he didn't want it to be over with too soon, so he was holding back, hesitating to touch her, because it would be so easy to get greedy and he wanted to draw it out.
She raised an eyebrow at him, rising to the challenge, and then she reached back and unhooked her bra. He made a point of keeping eye contact with her as the garment slid down her arms and to the floor, even as it was killing him to do so.
"My breasts don't interest you?" she softly purred.
She'd never know just how much power her every single word and action held over him. "They do," he confirmed. "But I'm feeling a tad bit overdressed." Not to mention that he was afraid he'd completely lose it if he looked down.
She blushed at that, no doubt thinking he was making fun of her for stripping down while he was still dressed or something. He'd more or less given up on keeping track of her insecurities. They only seemed to apply to him, anyway, because of how he'd acted towards her before. If only he could convince her that he wouldn't deliberately hurt her again, he was sure those insecurities should disappear. Too bad that she wasn't inclined to believe him. He liked it when she wasn't afraid to get what she wanted.
"Help me out here," he muttered, lifting her hands to his shirt buttons.
Her hands were shaking a little, and trying to stay still while she fumbled with his buttons, inadvertently giving him small caresses, was sweet agony. He wanted her in ways that scared him – as they would her if she knew about them – and keeping all of that under a lid was very difficult.
Would that he could just gather her in his arms and make love to her while telling her all about everything she meant to him and how he wanted to be what she needed.
Unfortunately, being what she needed meant not doing that. She didn't need his emotional baggage, much less did she want it.
"Tell me you want me," he hoarsely asked, unable to help himself, when she was done unbuttoning.
"I want you," she readily said.
He knew she was only saying it because she had to, but fortunately that didn't make the words any less true. "Tell me if you'd prefer I not remove the shirt completely." He would understand if she wanted the abomination on his arm to stay hidden.
She shook her head. "Off!"
He was a little surprised but pleased that she seemed able to ignore the Dark Mark so easily. No matter what she claimed, that spoke of a not insignificant amount of trust. He did notice, though, that when he took off the shirt she glanced at the thing and then very conspicuously avoided looking in that direction while feeling some discomfort, but that was only to be expected.
"Tell me… how do you want me?" he demanded, figuring that while having first-hand knowledge of how things felt was nice, getting her to be up-front about some things would probably help him give her exactly what she wanted.
"Inside me," she replied without missing a beat. The way she felt almost mortified afterwards led him to believe that it was not what she had wanted to say but the raw truth, compelled out of her.
He had to take a few deep, calming breaths before he could do anything else. This simple statement was quite possibly the most erotic thing he'd ever heard.
Inside me. That was where he wanted to be. He shoved his hands in his pockets so she wouldn't know that two simple words had him trembling and said, "But how? If you could have your way, any way you wanted…."
She shook her head, pressing her lips together.
'No'? That was hardly a valid reply. He supposed it meant she didn't want to answer and he hadn't really commanded it. "Tell me!" he urged her. "What's the worst that can happen?"
"I want it to be passionate," she said as if the words were ripped from her lips. "It doesn't have to be fast or hard, but I want it to be… powerful."
He couldn't keep back a low moan. Maybe it was time they stopped this little chat before he did something stupid like jump her and finish in thirty seconds. Not even the feel of her embarrassment cooled his need. Possibly because under the embarrassment he felt an answering need in her. These weren't just words, they were truths she hadn't wanted to share with him for some reason.
He finally let his eyes drift downwards to settle on her naked breasts. They were perfect, of course. Perfect for him. He'd known they would be. He'd seen them, touched them, tasted them…. His fists clenched in his pockets.
"The worst that could happen…" she continued, apparently still being compelled to reply to him, "is that you'll reject me, humiliate me, ruin me, and do it laughing."
The statement was so absurd that Draco forgot all about breasts and just stared her in the eyes.
"I know…" she said, her cheeks flushing red again. "I know you won't. Really, I do. Sort of. I mean, you don't really seem like you would anymore, do you? But I still fear it. I still remember you laughing and sneering, humiliating me at every turn just out of spite. I know that you're a very competent actor… and I'm afraid that you're only pretending to have changed and are looking for the ultimate way to hurt me. And I can't let you."
What could he say? 'I'm not going to hurt you if I can help it'? She'd said it herself… she knew it wasn't so, but she was still afraid to be wrong. She was too smart not to be cautious.
He wondered what kind of relationship they could have had if he hadn't been so obsessed with destroying her before. Could they have been real lovers? Maybe more?
Never had he regretted the things he'd done as much as now.
Hermione squirmed. What a mood killer! She could tell by the way he was looking at her that sex was the farthest thing from his mind. Did he even realize that he'd commanded the answer? It didn't matter; she was getting chilly and she'd rather have his hands on her than delve into her worst case scenario. If it was going to happen, then it was going to happen, but she'd damn well better get some enjoyment out of this first!
"Determination," he muttered, still looking distracted. "What have you decided to do?"
"Have sex," she bluntly replied, not in the least embarrassed this time. She'd said many even more humiliating things in the last five minutes alone. "With you. That is, if we are done dawdling?"
He blinked and then took her body in with a glance. "I don't think I could reject you even if I wanted to. Even if I felt I should."
"I take it that you don't feel you should, then?" Hermione asked, bending down to remove her shoes and socks, perfectly aware of how it looked to him with her topless and bent over.
"No." His voice was slightly strangled. "I think your reasons are rubbish, but they're your reasons, not mine. I don't have the right to tell you what decisions you're allowed to make. And, personally, I just want you in my bed again."
"That's convenient," she said, straightening back up. "You're not responsible for other people's decisions and thus there's no moral repercussions of getting what you want from someone, even if you know they do it for the wrong reasons."
"Do you disagree?"
"In this case? No."
"Good…" he muttered, looking relieved.
He was still wearing all of his clothes waist down while Hermione was down to her transfigured skirt and her knickers.
Well, make that her transfigured skirt. She made a bold move forward and slowly and carefully slipped her knickers down her thighs and then kicked them off.
The way his eyes widened and he stared at the skirt was very encouraging, but he hesitated. "One more thing…" he hoarsely asked. "Who was your first?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "W-what?"
"I know there was someone before me. Who? Do I know him? Was he some Muggle boy? Was he one of your friends? Who? Just… I'm not going to force you to reply. This is not an order. Just tell me whatever you're comfortable with."
"That was years ago, Draco," she softly said.
"I know. I'm not bothered. Just curious." The way he shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced nervously at her somewhat belied his statement. Was he jealous?
Hermione narrowed her eyes, considering. "Blaise Zabini," she then clearly stated.
Draco's eyes popped and his mouth dropped open. It was almost comical. Hermione waited for him to respond to her outrageous claim, but apparently this was his response, because he just kept blindly staring at her.
Finally, she rolled her eyes. "No, you dimwit! Like I'd ever let that… slapper… near my private bits!"
Draco blinked. "Cor, Hermione, sometimes your vocabulary amazes me."
Hermione snorted at Draco's innocent act, but then took mercy on him as he still looked to be suffering from the after effects of the shock. "I don't know why you even almost believed that! It was Viktor Krum. Fourth year!"
Sense seemed to be returning to Draco. "You—oh! That was so not funny!" He scowled.
She couldn't help but laugh at his disgruntlement, but before she could think of a suitable reply, he retaliated by pushing her against the wall and lifting her up, making it only natural to wrap her legs around his waist. His fingers dug into her thighs and her breasts pressed against his chest as he finally kissed her again. She quickly realized that not wearing any knickers in this position felt… naughty.
At a loss as to what else to do with her hands, Hermione threaded her fingers through Draco's hair and pulled his head closer, forcing the kiss to be harder, deeper, more intense. He softly groaned and one of his fingers casually slipped from her thigh and—
A feeling of pure enjoyment slammed into Hermione and she moaned and arched her back, squirming, looking for more of that sensation, feeling frustrated when she found that he'd withdrawn his touch. It took her another second to realize that he'd stiffened and was trembling.
She squirmed a little again, grinding against him, and he groaned and let completely go of her legs, stepping back from her just enough that their essentials didn't touch.
She did not approve and pouted at him for a second until she remembered how overpowering the ring could be. "Are you all right?" she then quietly asked.
"I'm… I'm great. Wonderful, even," he rasped.
She eyed him, noticing how his belly muscles seemed to contract every few seconds and wondered….
He apparently saw the look on her face, because he barked a short laugh. "No," he replied to her unvoiced question. "Just a little too close. I need you to… hold off… if you can, or this'll be over. I can't… if you come… I can't stop…." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if to calm his body.
"Ok," Hermione agreed, knowing it was going to be difficult. It was a powerful feeling to know that if she allowed herself to come, he would come right along with her.
He opened his eyes again and looked her up and down. "I could take it off for a minute," he offered with what looked to be some difficulty. "I think I could manage to stay in control then and we could take the edge off that frustration…."
Hermione fiddled with the hem of her skirt, feeling embarrassed yet again. She'd tried not to show the frustration—forgetting that it wouldn't matter—but of course he'd feel it anyway. "No, it's okay," she muttered.
He'd already taken off the ring, however. He was quiet for a moment, looking disoriented and lost, but then he said, "I need it to last longer. You're close. Very close. I don't want to come even faster this time than I did our first time."
She could see his point, although she failed to not see the appeal of him completely losing control. It wasn't as if she'd be left wanting, after all. Who said it had to take long to be good, anyway?
"Indulge me," he muttered, lifting her back into the position she'd been before and nuzzling her neck. "It'll be good."
"I know," she breathed.
His hands were back gripping the underside of her thighs and if either of them moved, a couple of his fingers would ever so slightly brush against her very sensitive flesh. She had a death-grip on his shoulders and when he teased her by brushing feather-light kisses anywhere but on her mouth, she growled and bit his neck.
It had the desired effect. He kissed her again. It was a hungry and desperate kiss, and she clung to him, grinding against those elusive hands of his, just wanting more.
"Please," she whimpered. "Please, Draco…."
"God," he muttered. "Do you have any idea…." He never finished the sentence, but just gave her what she wanted, his fingers no longer avoiding her grinding hips and teasing her, but seeking her out, caressing, stroking, penetrating…. She cried out, but he was quick to smother her sounds with more kisses. "Ssh, Hermione," he whispered. "Someone might hear you."
She didn't care who heard. It felt so good. She squirmed. "More…."
He obliged, touching her quicker and more firmly until finally the pressure inside of her had to give way and she bucked against him, whimpering into his mouth, which was roughly crushing hers.
She could get used to this.
Yes, yes, Kitty is mean. Next chapter...
"Hermione," he suddenly said, his voice strangely… different. "Say that you love me."
