Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, magic, settings, and storylines belong to JKR. Only the plot and OCs are mine.

Chapter 7: The Hard Thing

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We sat at my small kitchen table not talking. Draco's face was closed and only his loosened tie and tousled hair, as if he'd been running his fingers through it, told me he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be.

I'd gone straight to the bedroom and removed the heels from my feet and the pins from my hair. I knew that it was rude to leave a guest just standing in the middle of my living room. I was angry with him, and I wanted him to know it. I took my time in the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my hair. I decided not to change out of the dress and into something more comfortable. It might send the wrong message.

I now held a cluster of ice cubes wrapped in a hand towel to his knuckles. I'd tried to ease the pain with potions, but I was no healer so an old fashioned cold compress was the best I could come up with to help the swelling. The ice was beginning to melt, and I wished I'd had the mind to use a stasis charm. Oh well.

I tried not to make eye contact with him. I could feel the weight of his stare, but I said nothing because I was still upset with him. I knew the fact that I was nursing him detracted from the effectiveness of my silent anger.

At least he hadn't used his wand. It would have quickly turned into an idiotic dueling match … a match of masculinity.

To be fair, I was also upset with Ron. I guess I'd thought that they both had grown out of ancient grievances enough to exist in the same room. If I could forgive and move past certain things in my life, they should be able to as well. But I realized now that it had been wishful thinking, child's thinking. Not reality. Both men were set in their ways, and it was only by some twisted turn of fate that this pale, handsome man sat across from me now, staring at me with such intensity.

It wasn't the kind of intensity that I knew he had that could almost make me squirm in discomfort, like he could tell me with his eyes that I was less, beneath him. I'd spent years at Hogwart's learning the meaning of that stare. Now, he stared at me like I was a puzzle, and before he physically shifted the pieces into place, he wanted to get a visual of the picture he wanted to create.

Draco cleared his throat, and it took him two tries to say, "You're still mad at me. Why? I was helping you."

"I can't believe you have to ask," I quipped.

I finally looked at him. His striking eyes were unreadable; he didn't even blink, but a tiny, barely noticeable crease formed over his brow.

I sighed, heavy and loud. "I should be, but I can't be angry at you for who you are."

He frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you and Ron have always provoked each other, and I realize now that it's never going to change. No matter what you feel for me, you will always hate Ron."

"He hurt you," he said, as if that explained everything. He didn't deny anything I'd said, but he was wrong about Ron.

"He didn't hurt me," I said. "Ron has always been protective of me. I don't like it, but it's the truth."

And it was the truth. From the moment Ron and I had become friends, he'd always treated me like someone to protect. First he treated me like Ginny, like another little sister; then, when our feelings had grown into something more, he felt that as my boyfriend he always had to defend my honor. I appreciated this and knew that it was his way of loving me, but I was not a damsel in distress. In some cases, it had really been I who had protected him.

"Hermione," Draco said. His voice was soft, like he was coaxing the truth from a child. "I would never have touched him if he hadn't touched you first."

"He didn't hurt me," I repeated.

Draco raised his uninjured hand and grabbed my right hand like my fingers were delicate, little rose petals. He held my hand up so I could see my wrist. The clear, red outline of Ron's long fingers wrapped all the way around my wrist. I sucked air in through my teeth.

It really didn't hurt, but it surprised me. Maybe Ron had grabbed me harder than I thought. Maybe Draco had a point. I moved my hand to my lap beneath the table. Damn.

"Like I said, he hurt you. Even if he didn't do it on purpose, a man that doesn't know his own strength shouldn't… handle you that way. You're the one that said it; he thought he was protecting you." He said the last bit like the words tasted foul.

"I appreciate that you … care for me, Draco, but I don't need you to protect me either. I am an adult, and beyond that, a very capable witch. I don't need protection from my friends."

Draco shook his head. "If I hadn't been there, Weasley would have probably hurt you worse than this."

"Draco, if you hadn't been there, then Ron wouldn't have had any reason to be angry in the first place."

Draco drew back as if I'd struck him, and I immediately wished I could take back those last words. His face went blank and unreadable again.

"Hermione," he said. He spoke slowly like he was thinking about each word before he said it. "When I first approached you, I told you I would understand if you wanted nothing to do with me. If you—" He stopped and frowned at the wet towel on the table. He started over. "You still have that option. But if you take it Hermione, it has to be for you. Not for Weasley or Potter or anyone else. I don't want to end anything before we even have the chance, but—it's your choice."

He paused and looked up at me. "What do you want to do?"

I was a little stunned. It might have been only the second time that Draco had really opened up to me. He was usually quiet when it came to emotions and most talkative about money, Quidditch, and things. I was beginning to cherish these conversations because they were so rare. Even this one—as uncomfortable as it made me.

I let the question hang in the air. I went into the kitchen and started making tea the Muggle way. I even had an old fashioned kettle that I used. It had once belonged to my grandmother, and I remembered that she would always use it to make us peppermint tea when I was younger. I filled it with water and took two cups from the cupboard. I nearly dropped them when Draco spoke again from directly behind me. There was no carpeting in the kitchen, and he still moved too quietly to be completely normal.

Must be a Slytherin thing.

"This is strange for me, too," he said. "It's only been three weeks, and I don't really know what to do here. No matter how much we say everything that happened in the past should stay there, they still happened. We can't change it. And in some twisted way, without it I don't think we'd be here today. I know I've done really terrible things to you—I'm sorry. But, I've been thinking. I want to be with you, together with you."

He sounded so sure.

I turned to face him. This couldn't be Draco Malfoy standing in my kitchen saying these things to me. It just couldn't be, and yet, it was. I wasn't surprised to find him so close, less than a deep breath away. It would be more natural to touch, as close as we were standing, but we didn't.

His cologne, the heat from his body—it muddled my reasoning even more. I stared up at him, and as many reasons as I came up with to take the offer, to stop things before I was in too deep, I couldn't do it for one reason. I wanted Draco—whatever that included--more than I wanted to exist in a safe, loveless cocoon.

I rose up on my toes and kissed him. He was stunned at first, just standing there letting me press my lips to his. Then, he relaxed. One hand came up to rest lightly on my shoulder, and his other cupped my face. His lips were soft and tasted only as I knew Draco could.

Then, what was once sweet and chaste grew into something more. It was urgent and seeking but gentle. We had never kissed like this before, and it startled me. He had both hands on my face and kissed me as if he wanted to devour me from the mouth down.

He parted his lips, inviting me in, and I tasted. I tasted every bit of the wet, warm cavern of his mouth. I must have been too eager because he staggered back a step. He caught himself and his hands slid to my waist, hoisting me up. In one swift movement I was on the counter top, my dress riding high on my thighs. The feeling of Draco's body pressed deliciously to my center was exquisite. I threw my head back, exposing my neck, and he took the opportunity to kiss along the column of my throat.

The kettle pierced the mood with a high, whistling noise. Draco startled and jumped back. I let out a most unladylike noise of frustration. It took me two tries to cut the gas and move the kettle from the eye. The shrilling stopped. The atmosphere buzzed in the wake of our sudden fit of passion.

"It's just the kettle," I said. I must have looked like something wanton. My hair was wild and loose, curls everywhere, dress hiked nearly to my waist. I had the sense of mind to close my legs at least.

"You never answered my question," he said. His cool tone was belied by the flush high on his cheeks. "Just give the word, and I can be gone from your life."

"Draco … I …"

"Just answer the question. What do you want?' he repeated.

His jaw was clenched, and the flush in his face I suspected was now from his growing anger. I wanted to be with him, too. As twisted as it all sounded, I was willing to risk my friendships for a chance at—something (love?)—with Draco Malfoy.

I wanted to see what might be between us. After all, my friends couldn't live my life for me, some needs they just could not fulfill. They each had someone they cared for without ever having consulted me. I deserved the same opportunity. Or maybe I was crazy. Either way …

"I want you," I said.

"Are you sure?" he asked in that same cool voice.

"Positive." I stilled myself against the ensuing conversation, no backing out now. "On one condition," I added.

"And that would be?"

I suddenly found the floor tiles to be quite interesting. I spoke to them. "Promise that you will always be honest with me and in return I will be honest with you. If you ever feel like it's too much just tell me."

There was a pause and I slowly raised my eyes to meet his.

"What are you afraid of?" He was very still and his voice was cautious, any sudden movement and he might scare me away.

"What if you hurt me or I hurt you? That is to say, what if this doesn't work out? You must see the irony of the situation. In all likelihood, this could end badly, and—and I just don't want to be hurt." His jaw was working, and I could see him thinking. "People are going to hate this—us. They won't understand. I just think that if you ever begin to feel pressured, I would understand."

"I can see why you would have those reservations. I have never given you a reason to trust me. In fact, I've only proved to be the most distrustful person you've ever come across."

"I wasn't saying that." God, he was making this hard.

"No, but it's the truth. Hermione, no one can be sure of any relationship. I cannot predict the future, but if it means anything to you, I can give you my word. My word that I will never purposefully betray or hurt you."

There was something in his eyes akin to emotion, but what that emotion was I could not tell. Still, I felt compelled to believe him. My pulse sped, and I spoke the only word that came to mind, "Okay."

"Okay?"

I nodded. "Yes, you and I."

Draco gave a sheepish, almost boyish smile I didn't even know he had and came toward me. Sweet Godric, had I just entered a relationship with Draco Malfoy? Feeling slightly lightheaded, I stifled a giggle.

He slid both arms around my waist and picked up where he left off, only more slowly, more sensually. He trailed a line of kisses from my ear to my collarbone and spoke with his lips hovering just above my skin. "I am sorry about tonight," he whispered.

His warm breath caressed a sensitive spot on my neck. I shivered and had trouble remembering what he was sorry for. I didn't care.

"I forgive you," I breathed.

He chuckled, sending pleasant sensations dancing through my body. He trailed more kisses around my throat and up my jaw to my other ear.

"That was easy," he whispered and flicked his tongue, just the tip, on the curve of my ear.

I didn't answer; I could only concentrate on the sensations. The feeling of his bare chest as my hand found its way beneath his shirt. The feeling of his lips and tongue playing on my neck and shoulders. It felt as if every nerve ending floated just beneath the surface of my skin on my neck and those nerve endings were connected to things lower in my body. Instinctively, I rolled my hips, and Draco grunted in response. Even through his trousers and my knickers I could feel the heat and hardness of him. He was ready.

That brought me out of the haze rather quickly. I had not been with a man in more than a year. We — Draco had never let us get this far. He had always pulled away before he made me feel rushed or uncomfortable. After that first kiss, he had been a perfect gentleman. But now I knew Draco was ready, but was I?

Oh, my body was ready. My body hummed with built up tension, lust, and excitement about our new status. But, was I ready in mind and heart? It didn't seem logical that I would commitment myself to him and not include my body. I didn't think I could take it if Draco lost interest after we'd slept together, but he had given me his word that he would never hurt me. I still believed him.

He must have noticed my hesitation because he stopped and looked at me.

"What's the matter?" he said. His forehead was creased, brows pulled together.

We were both adults here. If we couldn't talk about it, we shouldn't be doing it.

"I haven't had — been with a man for a long time," I confessed.

His face smoothed out and he nodded. He took a deep breath. "How long?"

"More than a year." I felt my cheeks blush, and I fought not to look away from his eyes.

"Six and a half months," he said.

"What?"

"Six and a half months since I've … had sex."

I pulled myself from his embrace. "You don't have to lie to try and make me feel better."

He blinked and seemed surprised. "I'm not lying. It's the truth, I haven't had sex in six months. I work so much that I haven't really had time to date a woman properly." He turned his eyes from me. "And I don't really do the casual sex bit."

I was more than surprised. Draco was one of a handful of wizards all over nearly every wizarding magazine printed. And if the Muggles had known who he was, he'd probably be all over theirs as well. I had just assumed that he had taken advantage of his status — you know, rich and single.

But I didn't say any of this out loud.

"Why?" I asked.

"I mean it's not to say that I haven't before. I'm not some saint. I guess I just want different things now," he said.

"What kinds of things?"

He shrugged. "Not a one-off kindled by lukewarm feelings."

"I can respect that. Actually, I'm the same way." Though, I'm sure some would say that my arrangement with Ron had been casual. But Ron had been different—history and all. Draco didn't need to know this, though.

"So," he said. "What would you like to do?"

I didn't need to think about it. "I want you to kiss me again."

And he did. I wrapped my legs around him and kissed him back hungrily. We were both panting when Draco lifted me up and broke the kiss.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, just can't believe you're all mine."

I led him blindly in the direction of my bedroom. Stumbling in the dark, with my hands roaming his perfect body, I couldn't believe it either.


Notes: Thanks to my beta reader BookofSecrets. Thanks for reading!!