Oh baby think you can? Be my girl, i'll be your man!
Hit me you can't hurt me; Suck my kiss.
Kiss me please pervert me, stick with this
Is she talking dirty?
Give to me sweet scared bliss, your mouth was made to suck my kiss.
- Suck My Kiss, Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Egads, Draco, what are you wearing?"
I look down at my appearance as I finish walking into the parlour, and back up to mother. She's looking extremely ecstatic, sitting next to Jean in their matching housecoats on one of the couches by the window, drinking tea and eating scones. The Prophet lays open on the table.
I merely shrug.
"No idea, really. A Fassbender creation of sorts."
Something called jeans, a dark indigo. Paired with a robin's egg blue button up shirt, collared in white. And some pointy brown shoes. I was told they go together.
"Well, I know nothing of Muggle fashion – I guess I really have no room to make a judgement call," she notes, finishing her appraisal. "Meeting Hermione then, soon?"
Her expression goes from a grimace to soft as I join the pair in one of the antique, incredibly unused armchairs. I can't recall the last time I've even been in this room.
"Yes. I just came down to say I was leaving in a moment. And good morning. Just need to revise my apology speech."
"I'm sure she's going to forgive you, darling, why wouldn't she? If she knows why you told Paisley, she won't be too cross." Hmm, wouldn't be so certain.
"I believe your optimism is an extension of your happiness, mother."
She gives me a look. "Oh, come now. A little faith goes a long way."
"It wasn't an insult, the glow becomes you." I laugh. "And you are correct; It's not her I'm worried about. It's her friends. If they are anything like I expected them to be, she's going to force me into some situation I will find unpleasant with them." If she even still wants me.
"If you care about her, you'll go," she states firmly. "Sacrifices have to be made for the good of the relationship." I shake my head. She really is happy she doesn't have to deal with Marie anymore, isn't she?
"I will." Maybe. "Alas, I'll just have to go on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness, and if she doesn't appreciate that, then clearly she knows nothing of the Malfoy nature," I chuckle. "On that same note, anything worth reading in the paper?" I ask, smiling. She returns the gesture and thrusts an extra saucer with a pastry on it to me.
"No, I think our message yesterday afternoon was quite clear, thank you."
"I still cannot believe ze look on zere faces when you told zem off, Narcissa," Jean starts, rumbling with laughter. "Very admirable, and classy might I add?"
"Yes, that performance was quite impressive, mother, I am sorry to say I didn't know you had it in you."
"I quite honestly didn't know either," she replies, blushing happily. "But since Lucius isn't around to force a plan of action, I needed to do something. Nobody messes with us, as you will learn, Jean."
"Well, eef anything else comes up, I will let you 'andle it." He smiles. She leans in to kiss him, and even though it's still an odd sight, I'm slowly getting used to it, especially because father isn't around to remind me how weird this change is.
"Speaking of your father, Draco," Mother begins tentatively. I shift a little uneasy, but say nothing, "When did you want to visit him?"
So much for getting used to it.
Jean, tactfully, grabs the paper and begins to read about Kingsley Shacklebolt's plans to implement lawyers for convicts. Too little, too late, Minister.
"Uh, I don't know. I leave next Tuesday, yes? Perhaps Sunday? I need to wrap up the project if Hermione is still letting me do that, and it'll give me a day of recovery if it went the way it did last time," I scowl.
"I can't say it will be better, but it's good to see him, you know. The Dementor's aren't present there anymore, and we've tried to get him a more private cell, but I imagine it still hurts to be isolated like that." She looks incredibly sad, and I put a palm over her hand.
"I know, but he is in there for a reason, even though his sentence length is ridiculous," I hiss. "I'm lucky to have gotten off for being a minor when it all spiraled out of control." The sadness in her face turns to anguish, guilt even.
"Oh, I hate speaking of this," she flails her arms helplessly. "Let us please, change the topic. Sunday, it's decided. I'll take you Sunday."
"I can go alone, if it harms you so," I say quietly.
"No, sweetheart, I couldn't –"
"We'll see when the time comes," I maintain fiercely. I know for a fact that seeing his departed wife will only create the effect of rubbing salt in the wounds. "In the meantime, you need to write a letter to the warden to let them know someone's coming so they give us an exact time frame to Apparate into their facility."
"You're quite right. I'll do it later, when my mind isn't so tired and full of food."
"Thanks," I smile, and this time the return one she gives is wan.
"So," she starts up again, faux cheerily, "Hermione's! Will you be home for dinner?"
I reminisce of 2 days ago and the night we had. How fucking amazing it was.
Hmm, snogging and music with a vivacious girl, or an awkward stuffy dinner with the two lovebirds here?
Such a tough decision.
"No, I don't think so," I reply with a straight face. Jean raises his eyebrow and gives me a subtle thumbs up, unbeknownst to my mother, and I nearly choke on the piece of scone I just took a bite of.
"Draco, are you alright?" I clear my throat, trying not to laugh, and put my hand up and out.
"Yes, cough, fine. If I don't come home scathed within the hour I leave, I imagine we'll be really busy. Or else she may be conflicted over Potter and company, so I may have to settle that matter." Or I might be dead, come to think of it. Ugh.
"Well, good luck, when are you leaving?" She takes a sip of tea, then spits it out as daintily as possible, it obviously being cold. Jean titters at the sight.
"Mother, I do believe you're trying to usher me out of the house."
"I am not, I thought you'd be wracked with anxiety over this, like you were last night. You could barely eat."
My mother really is a good liar. No hint of pink, no trace of mortification. Maybe it's her I've taken after all these years, and not Lucius.
"Seeing as I've overbeared my welcome in this room - which by the way, why don't we ever use it? – and as I know you're simply dying to get back to whatever disgusting thing you were doing before I came in, which is evidenced by the fact that your beverage has cooled, I will leave you two in peace."
"Draco, that's no way to say good bye! Rude," She huffs.
"Yes, but it's true, right?" I stand up and shuffle on over to the archway, saluting them both.
"By the way, this room was intended for breakfast dining when it was built, so perhaps if you got up before 11 am, you'd be in it more," she calls out as I grab my piano and blazer from the stairs.
I roll my eyes, and yell back, "You have a nice day too, Mother! Jean!"
"Au revoir, Draco," Jean rings back merrily.
I shake myself to clear my body and mind as I let myself into the daylight, feeling oddly, nice. I don't remember the last time a breakfast morning at the Malfoy Manor was so jovial.
I guess times, they are a changin'.
Oh, he's going to be here any minute.
I'm so anxious I'm sweating, and I feel as if I've developed a nervous tick overnight.
I had no ideas on what to wear today, considering I'm (hopefully) going to be dining tonight at the Weasley's. I didn't want to look too casual for fear of giving the impression I was trying too hard not to care, or vice versa, trying too hard to please.
I've chosen to don a burgundy and grey striped sweater, with a pleated back skirt and sheer tights. A grey head band holds my hair back, and I'm still wearing the ruby pendant. I need all the luck I can get.
I'm just touching up my makeup as I hear the loud knock on my door. It jolts me in surprise, causing me to drag chapstick down my chin. In the back of my mind, I almost thought he wouldn't come, that maybe he'd be told not to by his mother.
I wipe my face off quickly with my sleeve, fix my hair in the mirror and rush down the stairs to the front door. I'm really nervous, I almost don't want to talk to him. Yet I want to see him so badly.
Does that make any sense at all?
No time for contemplating my looming insanity now, I'll just overthink and freak myself out before I even open the door up. So I swing it ajar, and there's Draco….on his knees. Looking up at me with an adorably apologetic face.
I open my mouth up, and then close it, bewildered, and at a loss at what exactly one is supposed to say at this sight.
"Hermione," he begins in a small voice, "Before you say anything, tell me to leave, that this isn't going to work, or worse, please let me apologize. And explain."
"Draco, I –"
"No, shh. I said please," he pleads, and I stifle a grin at how apprehensive he looks.
"Go on," I say, biting my lower lip to stop myself from giggling, and fanning a hand out so he can continue.
"Yesterday was really ridiculous for myself, but I imagined that since every single Wizarding family in Britain receives the Prophet or at least has it mentioned it during the day, you would've had a horrible time visiting the Weasley's yesterday. Wait –" he pauses his grand, clearly rehearsed speech. "You have seen it, haven't you? You know what I'm talking about? It never occurred to me that you wouldn't have but, I assumed since your plans were with Potter , I–" Oh my god, he's rambling. He's genuinely concerned; he feels remorse.
"Yes, Draco, I saw the article. And they'd all read it before I knew it existed and went over to the Burrow," I interrupt and all colour drains from his face at my firm tone.
"Oh god," he groans in distress. "Well, what happened was this; Pansy evidently told her mother, Paisley, what I said to her, which included my rejection of her fabricated love, and of the fact I kissed you. Now, I suppose since she has a thirst for revenge like I tend to, Paisley and Pansy tipped off the Prophet about these 2 'new couples on the scene', because they lost out on rich inlaws. As I think I told you, Jean is from the richest family in France. So Paisley wanted me to date Pansy again for the cash that would come. Then that's why the photographer came into Cerisier, he was following us, and so were a few French ones, because my mother and Jean had a photograph headlining a Parisian Gazette as well."
Oh no.
"Oddly enough though, the outcome on my end was great," he laughs disbelievingly.
Huh? "Why is that?"
"Turns out my mother made a deal with Jean's parents. They would introduce themselves as a couple when Marie, you know my new grandmamma, felt it to be good and ready time. They're pretty prominent in French society, like we used to be, so they obviously needed to plan it, because of how much my father and I fucked up. Otherwise, Jean wouldn't have their blessing for marriage, which is why mother didn't tell me about Jean sooner. She thought that I might need to talk about it to different people, considering it's divorce, but it would be easier to deal with once the general public knew, which was a bad mistake clearly, since I found out anyway and went crying to someone else. But she really does love him, so she agreed and feels horrible about it. When I woke up yesterday Marie was yelling at mother, and then at me when I defended her, because it was my fault it happened anyways. Then Jean stands up to her, in a feat of courage of which I'd never seen, and told her that he doesn't need her or her money in his life if she was going to control who he loves and marries."
"Oh my god," I breathe.
"Yeah. It was unbelievable. Anyways, I think it gave my mother some much needed confidence because later in the day we visited the Parkinson's and she basically said if they ever fuck with us again, everyone will know who was behind the slander. And, I apologized to Pansy for what happened Friday because if she really did care for me like she said, I didn't reciprocate in the same way, the whole span we were together." He looks up at me with a mangled expression, possibly searching for approval if that was a good idea.
"Really?" I ask dumbfounded. "You apologized? That was a very mature thing to do, Draco."
"Yeah, I guess it was," he sighs in relief. "Anyways, my luck turned out amazing considering I was the cause, and it just made me feel awful because I knew your luck wouldn't be. And so I come here on hand and knees begging you to forgive me for screwing up. Please?"
Never in my life, would I have thought that Draco Malfoy would apologize to me, let alone feel bad because of something that he didn't intend to do on purpose.
He puts his hands together pleading, and gives me puppy dog eyes. I take a step out of the door and ruffle his head, wherein he drops the innocent act, lowering his hands bemused.
"I wasn't even mad, silly. I know you didn't want to reveal your familial situation to Pansy. Maybe 2 years ago I would've thought you did this purposefully, or with some kind of motive. But even if I still thought so, you coming here like this, a man raising the flag, I would've probably believed your apology."
"So you're saying…."
"Yes, you grovelled for no reason. I appreciate it though, and the up to date explanation, Draco."
I smile, and he is humiliated at making himself look slightly a fool. He slowly stands up with a pink flush, and adjusts the lapels of his wool coat.
"Yeah, well….you're welcome," he grumbles, brushing off his knees.
"Come here," I say, and I wrap my arms around him and give him a chaste peck on the lips. He cranes his neck back to look at me, and grins. "I really do appreciate it, you know."
"You'd better. After yesterday, my mother turned into me when I was 11. Happy and on top. I wish I could say the same," he says. I roll my eyes.
"Oh, don't be such a dramatist. I had a horrible afternoon yesterday," I counter, pushing him away slightly and walking into the house.
"Well what happened?" he asks suddenly worriedly again. "And, ugh, how are we going to resolve it?" he follows me, and takes off his shoes and jacket.
"I'll tell you everything, but you're not going to like it. And I'm glad you're on board without me asking," I say sweetly. I plop myself down on the couch and cross my leg over the other. Then I pat the spot next to me.
"Well, of course I'm on board. I thought you'd be telling me it's going to be too difficult for us to date, that Potter and friends had a huge tiff over it, and you'd….well choose them over me," Draco explains, sitting next to me. His eyes are swimming with worry.
I frown. "Draco, I don't let my friends control me."
"That wasn't what I was trying to say, I –" he splutters frantically.
"I know, I know, shh," I say, chuckling lightly, and grab his hand to stroke it. "The point is there is no 'choosing'. As much as I care about them, I wouldn't let their words stop me from seeing you. They were livid. And it's understandable why they wouldn't want us to see each other, but it's my life. Ron needs to let me breathe, and Harry needs to get over this grudge, like you do. If they were true friends they'd look out for me while respecting my decisions," I huff.
"I take it they didn't?" he asks lightly, squeezing my hand.
"No. No, they did not. It was pretty horrible, actually. They were appalled, and barely let me explain my side."
"I don't exactly blame them to be honest, though fuck them for being rude to you," he says, heated. I want to scold him for his cursing, but I find it a little adorable, really.
"Yes…they asked me to leave, they were so angry. Felt like betrayal I guess. Ron was crying he was so upset," I sigh.
"They threw you out of their house?" He tightens his grip. "Bastards."
I barely hear the word escape his lips, and I pretend like I don't hear him. Both parties already despise each other before even getting in the same room together.
This night is not going to go well.
"They did. Ginny told me later that she only suggested it so Ron wouldn't explode on me."
"Wait, later?"
"Ginny came back a few hours later, telling me they talked about what happened after I left. She apologized, and told me she wasn't upset about you, but about the fact I didn't confide to her about how I was feeling about you sooner."
"Sooner? Well I mean, how could you have when I asked you out?"
"Well," I blush, trying to keep eye contact. "I've found you attractive since the auditions."
"R-really?" He gulps, unable to stop himself from looking pleased.
"Yes, don't go inflating your ego, now," I tease, pushing him lightly.
"A little late, my Gryffindor vixen," he retorts, and my face grows even warmer.
"Anyways, she said she felt horrible, she came back almost immediately, so I forgive her. The jury's still out on Ron and Harry. I explained to her all about this past week, about the crazy developments, about us going out, and about how none of this paper mess is really your fault."
"Well, it is, but –"
"But nothing. I'm glad you're willing to own up to the responsibility, but it isn't yours to take. What kind of person exploits knowledge like that because they're upset?"
"Pansy," he replies matter-of-factly.
"Your parents are going through a divorce, your Mum has a new partner, and your father is in jail. Nobody has been very nice to you this year, and even if you may have not deserved it, everyone should get a second chance. In that situation, who wouldn't be a little insane?" I say firmly. "You wouldn't be human if you weren't."
I hear him take a few shallow breaths, evidently moved.
"I'm grateful you understand," he replies hollow. I turn to look at him, and his eyes threaten tears.
"What's wrong?" I huddle closer to him, alarmed, but he doesn't try to nestle back. "Draco, you can tell me."
He puts his head in his hands, and begins to sob.
Draco tries to control his breathing, his ragged breaths slowly steadying, only to collapse into an un-rhythmic pattern again. I freeze, just observing him, slowly circling his back with my hand, unsure of what to do with a crying boy. It's just like the first time he was here, and was upset about what I knew about Narcissa.
"I – " he raises his head, red and ugly with tears, wiping his eyes with his wrist. "I – Oh god."
He breaks down again, and it's a good 5 minutes before he finally settles, a good 5 minutes that frightens me.
"I'm sorry," he sniffs. "S-sorry."
"Don't be, don't – just tell me what's wrong, Draco," I try soothingly.
"M- my mother is really happy," he wails, practically incoherently.
"Is-isn't that a good thing?" I ask confused.
"Of course it is! But I have to go see Lucius on Sunday, and – what is he going to be like? How can I deliver the news? He doesn't want her happy, he wants her as miserable as he is! He's going to have to sit there, rotting with the information that he was a sub-par companion compared to Jean, because Jean was willing to give up his status to be with her! Jean understands that it all means nothing; the money, the power, if you can't love freely, without restraint. Without worrying about what people think," he says, flexing his hands for emphasis. "I mean, I want to see my father. I want him to know I don't hate him. Well, I do, but not wholly, not for the reasons I probably should. I know that he needs me, he needs to know that he's not being abandoned," he chokes.
God, poor Draco.
"But last time I saw him, he freaked out. He went mental – like something inside of him snapped; got really angry that I was out and about while he had to stay in there, even though I've – I've hurt people like he has.
"Everytime I go see him it's just a reminder of who I've been, and I feel as though sometimes I'll never be able to run away from the past. I've tried accepting it, I have, but I can't. I can't live with myself when I no longer want to be who I was, and have to stare it in the face daily," he pulls up his dress shirt to reveal the mark, and scratches it with his middle finger the whole length. He does it with vigour, a single time, making me shiver. "And now, I have gotten into Merlin knows what with a person like you, and every time I look at you, I keep trying to figure out when I'm going to wake up."
"Wake up?" I whisper.
"Yes, wake up!" he cries hysterically. "Hermione, do you even realize how much you've affected me?"
"I could say the same?" I reply, trying to calm him down, cheer him up, something.
"No, you can't. You really can't! It's like I'm in some dream when I talk to you, like this isn't reality right now. Before Hogwarts this year, I sat around drinking, trying to forget everything. Didn't work! And though something to do like schoolwork distracted me, until I had something to fixate on, you, which I know sounds horribly stalkerish but trust me it's not – I was miserable. I had a crush. A crush! On you! You know how fucking ridiculous that is? How normal that is?"
"Well, yes – it's been odd that I've been so preoccupied with such regular things this year."
"Exactly! What is normalcy? I've no idea. Do you? I could break down in laughter right now – I went from having to suffer curses from the most racist man on earth to kissing a beautiful 'tainted' girl, my blood-enemy, with practically no worries in a span of less than a year! What is that?"
"Um,"
"Look, I don't need to indulge you on things I've experienced, or at least not quite yet – but my god. You make me feel wanted, and like I have a chance at not suddenly just dropping dead from misery and uselessness."
"Draco, you're scaring me."
"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm just so wracked with dread at going to Azkaban. And I know I need to go. And then I'm so content with you, yet so scared that I'm going to somehow fuck the only good relationship I have up," he finishes weakly. "God, I'm insane."
"You're not insane," I say, feeling tears of my own creep into my eyelashes. "You're very upset, a wreck even." I give a watery chuckle. "It's expected of you. And Draco, you affect me too. You know this, yes? We really get each other, I think. And it's so scary because we've known each other almost half our lives and here we are, never having gotten along until a few days ago."
He leans into me, and I accept him, pushing him down to let him lay his head on the couch arm, body across my lap. I grasp one of his hands and rub it gently with my fingertips. He takes a few deep breaths, and then his gaze moves up to mine, silvery eyes straight into my own, his expression fretful.
"Do you really think that? That we understand each other?" he pleads, searching me back and forth for a trace of hesitation.
"Yes, I do." I smile. "I even told Harry and Ron that, you can ask them."
His chest hitches, and he steadies my soothing hand by grabbing it. "Did you really? And why would I ask them?"
"Draco, I don't want to elevate you're already risen heart rate, but Ginny asked me to ask you to go over to their house for dinner tonight, with me. To give you a chance."
"You're not serious?" he replies, stunned, rolling his eyes with a frown. "A chance? More like a death wish."
"I do imagine the intent was that you would apologize, and I suppose surrender to a blood traitor household," I say shaking my head. "But you'll come, won't you? For me?"
"For you? God, I have to, don't I? Is there anything else I can do?"
My heart sinks a bit, for some reason I thought he'd agree straight away, no hesitation.
When he sees my face, he quickly changes his tune. "No, of course there isn't. I'll go, Hermione, if it means that much. But don't expect anything short of awful," he harrumphs.
"It may not be awful if you try," I counter. He crosses his arms defiantly.
"They want you to see that they made an effort first, and are hoping I say 'no' to look better for extending the hand before I did. I'm going to get there confronted with hostile faces, that I'll deserve no doubt, except for dear Ronald, and be a rat in a trap."
"Draco," I scold, just slightly amused now that the weight has lifted and he's coming with me. "They're not that evil."
"You'd be surprised," he says.
"Hey now! If I know my friends, they're going to at least try to be courteous at the hands of Mrs. Weasley," I say.
"And Mr. Weasley? My Dad's # 1 best buddy? God, he really didn't do me any favours, that old man."
"Draco, it'll be okay. You going over there will be more tremendous for me than them offering you a chance, because you actually accepted it. Just show them what I see, and they'll love you." Oh Merlin, I said love. He is too caught up in his thoughts to notice, however.
"I dunno. I guess if I can get out alive is the goal for this evening. But I suppose it would've had to come to this anyways. I'm going to have to go change," he sighs.
"Draco, don't change," I laugh. "You already are too smart for their usual dress now."
"Shouldn't I dress my best though?" He asks confused.
"No," I state. "The worse the better, in fact. They're going to make it cozy, personal, not a business meeting."
"Funny, I think I'd feel more at ease in the Ministry." He wipes his hair frantically from his forehead slick with sweat and I touch his little white wisps, dragging them softly in place.
He sighs, giving up. "I guess if this is happening, we should forget my weep session and start some work? What time are we expected?"
"I'm glad you're concerned for the project, but relax. I spent a long time yesterday working on questions."
"What? Really? Well I feel like a monstrous dick, now," he pouts, and I kiss his forehead, making him a little less tense.
"Don't. I would've told you your answers were wrong anyways, or madly edited them, so it's just wasting less time."
"Ouch," he says, finally a trace of a smirk again. "A little bossy today aren't we?"
"Always," I say proudly, and chuckle. He attempts a smile at me, and I feel myself melt.
"The dinner is at six, by the way. I'm glad you're agreeing to do this, it really does mean a lot."
"Hermione, if I get to keep talking to you, I'll shag Filch." I smack his arm. "Madam Pince, too," he adds, and I make a gagging noise as he laughs.
"That is an utterly revolting thought."
"Yes, I imagine since they despise children they'd make a better match themselves. Maybe we should set them up."
"Draco! Enough," I put a hand on his mouth and he licks my palm, surprising me, and I pull it back like he burnt it. He smiles a big fake one at me.
"See, this is what I mean. You can take me from weepy to amused in a span of 2 minutes. I wish you were around all the time. Can you imagine if we had acted this way since we were kids?" he blurts, and then suddenly averts is gaze, a bit embarrassed.
"I think now is the perfect time to be friendly, Draco. There's nothing stopping us. And…If you like me around…I could come with you Sunday If you want," I say boldly, without thinking.
Oh, god. Of course he doesn't want me to come!
"Come with me? But…it's Azkaban, Hermione – I could never ask you to do such a thing," he looks up at me, suddenly sitting up. He turns to face me, speechless, grabbing my hands.
"But I can offer it, can't I? I mean, I could just go for moral support. I'll wait in the front, or however it's set up. There're no Dementors anymore, and even if there were, I'm not afraid."
"But," he starts, words failing him.
"Just give it some thought. I understand completely if you just want to go alone, or with your Mum, or whomever. I just thought maybe…I don't know." What am I thinking? I've been on two dates with him, I'm acting like we've been dating months.
"Hermione….you'd really do that?"
"Of course?" I reply confused. Who wouldn't do that for someone distraught? "Isn't that what we do when we care about someone? I mean, you're very upset."
"I am, but. You know, I thought I could handle it, on my own. I guess having you there would help a little. I just don't like you, or anyone, seeing me so vulnerable," he admits. "It makes me feel like a child."
"Everyone needs a friend sometimes, Draco."
"But I don't want to be your friend," he murmurs.
"Excuse me?" Did I hear him correctly?
"I said I don't want to be your friend. I want you to be my….girlfriend." My heart stops and for a second all I can hear in the room is dead silence and white noise.
"You…you do?" His face turns ghostly white, and he tries to explain quickly his reasoning.
"We're already in the Prophet, we've met each other's parents, and I'm seeking the approval of the most important people in your life. Doesn't that warrant some title besides us 'seeing' each other?"
Dost mine ears deceive me?
"Look, I don't want to mess about for weeks for no reason, no confirmation that we're doing something worthwhile. I want to be with you. If it's too quickly, I get it, I just think what we're doing is a little extreme for just dating and –"
"I'll be your girlfriend, Draco. Shut up, and stop rambling," I tease.
Colour rushes back into his face, immediately. His grin that follows is so beautiful, I can't seem to curb my own wide one down, it almost hurts.
"But please some discretion for now? We don't reveal it to the Weasley's and Harry tonight," I laugh. "Otherwise I think you'll be murdered before we leave the dinner table."
"Agreed," he says hastily, and leans in kissing me, as if to finalize our verbal agreement.
He pulls away shyly, unsure if to continue or stop. I can't get the idea of having another boyfriend from my head. It only took him three times of being with me properly to decide he likes me enough to want me.
He wants to be with me.
"No, don't stop," I breathe, and yank him by the collar into me, wherein he takes no time in grasping me by the waist, and curling his fingers into my back, like he can't resist me, like he needs me close.
He told me he feels like he's in a dream around me.
I just – I can't believe it. I can't believe how he's almost done a 180 in a matter of a few days, how open he is to me. It's amazing.
Right now…..all I want is to kiss him.
Something inside my core sets aflame. Hungrily, I pull on his lips with my own, stick my tongue in circles around his mouth, and begin to snog him senseless. He obliges quite quickly, yanking me closer to him by my elbows. I wrap my arms around his head while his grip remains firm, returning to my back.
After what feels like forever, very gently and slowly he drags me atop him, lowering himself down horizontally, my body in between his legs on the leather sofa.
I keep grabbing at his face or twining his hair through my fingers, unable to stop caressing his skin. He unfurls his grasp, musically dancing his way under my sweater and ghosting me with his cool hands over my hot upper back. It makes me moan.
"God," he groans, getting his arms all the way through my shirt and tangling my hair roughly, scratching my scalp lightly. He wraps his spread legs around the back of my knees, and then runs his hands with pressure up and down the nape of my neck. Over and over.
I try to do the same to him, it feels amazing, almost a sensual massage; and the response I get is he rolling his eyes to the back of his head, emitting a little 'uh'. And I'll admit it.
It turns me on.
Knowing that I have this effect on him. Knowing I can do this. I don't want to seem like a naïve little girl anymore, I want to experience what every other girl has claimed is the 'best thing ever'.
I've never felt such a sensation before. Draco was right all along, you just have to go with it.
So that's what I do. I touch and graze and lick even, until I find out where he likes it most, which is what he's also gauging for me.
I find that scratching and pulling the hair right beside his ears close to the top of his neckline is what he likes most when I kiss him. And I think rubbing my neck is most pleasurable for me until he takes a sole finger and lightly trails it, barely grazing the skin, down my spine, near the middle of my back, then back up again.
It causes me to immediately arch, push my chest into his, and my head lilt back to the ceiling. My stomach makes a leap every time he gets in between my shoulder blades, and I let out a gasp, a strained gasp to match it.
"Does that feel good?" he purrs, continuing the torture of stroking me, while biting my ear lobe and licking the shell of where he's speaking.
"Yes, y-yes." His sultry voice paralyzes me.
I stop my hands due to the influx of blissful feeling, and dig my nails into his shoulders, wherein he hisses.
"Should we stop before I tear your clothes off?" he asks, rumblinga sexy little titter from his throat before kissing my throat and lips one last time.
As he sits up straight and I lean back on my knees, we're both panting very hard. I noticed it when I was leaning on him, but he's got a sizeable erection. I'm very glad he can practice restraint because though I don't feel ready for it, who knows if I'd be able to resist him if he tried to undress me.
He's looking at me with hungry eyes, his 'dessert' expression, and god knows what my own eyes hold. I just can't stop looking at him.
"W-was that good for you too?" I ask him, finally catching my breath.
"Good for me? I think that was the best thing that's happened to me in 2 years," he says laughing.
I tuck a stray hair behind my ear, and look down mortified. "No need to exaggerate."
"I wasn't, trust me. You found the spot, darling," he assures me, raising his eyebrow sexily.
"Beside your ears?" I ask, and he nods, biting his lower lip.
"And I think yours is on your back, hmm?" Slowly he leans into my kneeling figure, and moves his hand to my back again. My breath catches as he takes his finger excruciatingly up my back over top of my sweater.
"Uh," I shiver, and then shake him away. "Are you quite done?"
"I'm pretty sure if we were able to bottle your moans of pleasure and sell it, we could make millions off of it," he says smirking.
"Draco, please. You're embarrassing me."
"No really, nothing turns me on more than knowing I made my lady feel good at the hands of my….well hands I suppose in this case. And you have the most delicious little groans, I'd like to hear them more often." he wiggles his brows suggestively and I smack him.
"You strike me as someone who would be the other way around, would be turned on by receiving." I guess that's a bit of an insult, but looking at his greedy past, it fits, right?
"You would think that, but true domination is being able to make somebody fall at your feet with desire because you know how to please them, rather than having them please you."
"Huh, I guess I've never given it a thought, really, since I've never really been in the situation." I contemplate his words for a moment, and cross my legs on the couch, scooting back so I can lean back on the opposite arm, parallel to Draco. "Explain more," I challenge him and he tilts his head.
"Really? An intellectual debate on sexual personalities, huh? At least I'll be interested."
I roll my eyes.
"I thought we were all adults here? Just because I'm inexperienced doesn't make me a moron."
"Don't give me that, I never accused you of anything, my dear. But as much as I like arguing with you, constitutional rights aren't the most fun thing to discuss." I give him the death glare, he clears his throat. "Anyways, back to being dominant. If you take a sex act like oral for example, most would agree it's a submissive activity; you're going down on your partner, you're trying to get them off. They're doing nothing for you, you're submitting to their wishes. I suppose if you like being told what to do, that fits. But a dominant person, which I am, by the way, and I think you are too, would look at it as an opportunity to control their lover by stimulating them in a way only they can. If I can make a girl scream in orgasmic delight, even if she begs me to stop because it's too intense, and I keep going because it's going to feel amazing in a few seconds, to me that's a victory over her. I made her come. It's the same with guys too. I think if a girl can get the job done, she knows what they like and how to use it, right?"
Huh. I process this information, unsure of what to do with it.
I don't think I've ever had frank sexual discussion before. With Ginny it's always been too personal, I don't like hearing about what Harry does, or what she does to him. I'd rather her be vague. But I think it's still not working, I can only picture her with him, and ew, now I'm picturing Draco with Pansy.
"I think I agree with you. And wait, what do you mean you think I'm dominant?" How would he even know?
"Hermione, you need to be on top. In school, and probably literally in bed." I blush for the millionth time. "You crave control, remember? You'd hate to 'fail' so to speak, thus you'd love to be the one to orchestrate what happens in the bedroom."
"I suppose," I reply, unable to push away the images of Draco and his ex away.
'What's the matter? Too odd or personal of a topic?" He moves down closer to me and pats my knee.
"No," I reply, "I have no problem talking about things in a theoretical manner. I'm just thinking about you and who you've had sex with."
"Oh." His turn to flush pink. "Sorry. I don't know if it'll make you feel better, but I've only been with Pansy. Not that I think you thought of me as a ladies man or anything."
"No I didn't," I reply and he pouts a little. "I guess that's a good thing, it just makes me a little uncomfortable, but I imagine that every person has to struggle with the thought of past lovers."
"Yeah, sorry. Maybe this talk was a bit too soon. I certainly don't like the thought of you and the Weasel kissing."
Something about hearing about Ron and Lavender having sex has been bugging me for a while, so I have to ask in the light of this.
"Well, it's not like we're 13 anymore, we should be able to talk about everything. So, may I ask you a question?"
"Sure?" He looks a tad scared.
"Do wizards have contraceptives? Condoms? Birth control pills? I've never seen anyone talk about it, and it's scary thinking that just like that a person who doesn't know any better could get a disease, or worse, a girl could get pregnant."
"Condoms? Pills?" he asks puzzled, brow furrowed. My turn to look horrified.
"The pills make sure a women isn't able to become pregnant by taking one daily, it's almost 100% effective. A condom is a protective latex covering for the, uh, penis. It's so he can ejaculate into it and not get it into the girl, so she won't chance getting pregnant, or get diseases; gay men use it too," I reply shrilly.
Draco looks at me for a moment, and then bursts out laughing.
"What?"
"Ha ha ha ha! That's positively primeval. Why do you look so shocked?"
"Because you're laughing at safe sex! You've never heard of contraceptives!"
"No, Hermione, listen," he clears his throat stifling the laughter. "My mother told me when I started dating Pansy that I had to learn an enchantment before and after we had sex. Awkward, really."
"A spell?" Now, I'm intrigued. "How does that work?"
"I really don't know. But before you go at it, you cast 'Nulllus contagium,' so you can't receive or transmit any infection, not that I had any, so perhaps if you had one you'd feel something."
"And the after spell?"
"Eradico Infantia," he replies with a grimace.
"Eradicate babies? That's twisted!" Disgusting!
"I think it's simply for the chance that you got your sperm up in there; it doesn't work if you've been pregnant for more than a few days, I had to read this awful St. Mungo's pamphlet if you were wondering how I knew that. If you want to, you know….get rid of the fetus….you have to take a potion," he gulps. "Clearly whoever invented the spell was awful with the name decision."
I shudder. "Okay, enough of that for today. Please, god, anything else."
Draco leans into me and hugs me. "I apologize if that made you uncomfortable," he murmurs.
"No, I asked, it's okay. I'm glad I've been educated, I suppose," I reply, clutching him.
"Yes, but we went from a hot snog sesh to ….that. My being turned on escalated quickly. I think we need to ramp up the mood again; Did you want to practice our song for a bit perhaps, take your mind off it before we have to visit hell?"
"So dramatic. Yes, I would actually. Some violin play is exactly what I need right now." I shake my head, hoping images of babies and disease will go away.
"Great," he smiles, pulling away from me. "I'll get my beautiful instrument as well. Upstairs or down here?"
"Down here, so we can concentrate easier," I click my tongue, and he grins innocently at me, looking upwards.
"Okay, fine. But since we'll be separated at the Weasley's, you owe me one hour of making out redeemable whenever I want."
I scoff, "Fat chance, Mr. Malfoy, we'll see how it goes first."
He sticks out his tongue. "Mean! We practicing vocals today?"
"Yes, we should. I gave it some thought, and why don't we sing it together? It would make both of us less embarrassed, and honestly, it doesn't have that many lines."
"I would love to hear you sing." I look at him, and he's staring at me with sincerity. "I'm pretty rubbish anyways, so at least we can please McGonagall with our 'team effort', right?"
"Great," I smile. "Let's set up."
I feel the rush of cold wind surround me, and I land in unfamiliar territory with Miss Granger, a forest.
Though I have been attempting to quell my anxiety since she dropped the bomb, the full weight of where I am about to step foot engulfs me. What the hell kind of business do I have going into the lion's den, when I am a lowly snake?
All well, Hermione is in a fairly good mood right now, so I don't want to ruin it.
"The house is about a 5 minute walk down that hill right up here."
"Lovely," I gulp.
"Oh pish posh, you'll be fine Draco!" She's very happy, almost punch-drunk, because our practice session went quite well. After rehearsing our singing voices for two hours, we managed to get it in sync properly with the instruments.
It's quite the somber tune, but it made it slightly easier for us to sing it for so goddamn long. Hermione has a lovely voice, not the best ever, mind you, but it's clear and gentle. She can match the original very well.
"I can't believe you think you`re a rubbish singer! You're so cute," she squeaks, nudging me into a bush practically.
"Cute? Oh, please, I sound like a frog."
"Cheer up Mr. Sour Boots, you're just a little too British sounding, but that's okay, so is Matthew Bellamy."
"God, what is with you?" I laugh, pulling her into me around her shoulders.
"I don't know, I'm just so happy we are actually fairly decent at our performance! That was only the second day we tried!"
"Well, we are pretty gifted, aren't we? Even McGonagall agrees."
"Yes, yes, but tomorrow, we have to rehearse ALL DAY!" she jumps, excited and flustered all at once. "And finish the questions! Because though I cracked a good chunk of them , I'd like your feedback."
"Why the rush? Not that I'm complaining, I get to see you again, but we still have close to a week. And it's not even due for another 2 when we get back."
"Well, my parents get home on Saturday night, and then we'll only have until Tuesday. If I'm going with you Sunday, that's at least a few hours, and I still need to finish my Charms essay."
"You mean the completed one you were telling me about?" She flushes.
"Guess you were paying attention," she mumbles.
"I usually do, Hermione. What's up?" I stop us walking, and push her to face me, her figure glowing in the almost diminished sunset, the moon hanging above us.
"I don't know, I guess I'm just worried about what's going to happen when we get back to school? What people will say? Maybe we can dodge a bullet tonight, but I know nobody will take the sight of us together very well."
"You're worried about your reputation then?" I ask, trying not to frown. I expected this to come sooner, actually.
"I guess, more that I'll get asked why I'm hanging out with you, and I know that everyone will be watching me like a hawk. Which will be annoying; every time I leave the common room it'll be 'Oh, is she going off with Draco?' Not that I care what they think, well mostly, it's just that I know from Harry's experience, it's difficult to get things done when people watch you. And if everyone is hostile, it'll be hard to focus on work unless we're in the library, and I'd rather get as much quality time with you, especially for practice, in now. Does that make sense?"
I soften a bit. She's worried about school more than what people will say. That's a little uplifting, to say the least.
"Yes. And in any case, if they bother you, there's always room in the Slytherin boys dormitory if you need some quiet time," I wink. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
"Thanks, but I'm sure the Slytherin's will be as hostile towards me as Gryffindor is to you."
"I don't think so, actually. There aren't enough of us that disliked you before still here. There are only about 10 of us from previous years. Nott thinks you're attractive, anyways."
"Theodore Nott? Why though? Wasn't his father as involved as yours with You Know Who?"
"Yes, but if you paid more attention to my life, you'd notice that he never liked the people I hung around with for more than a laugh."
"What do you mean?"
"He's never been twisted like me, never really cared for the spotlight. His father is pretty crazy though; never cared about blood purity, he was seen molesting his victims. I know it's been hard for Nott just as much as me, but his father was never his role model so he's not as fucked up about the whole ordeal. Would kill without restraint if he was ordered to when other's hesitated. He's locked up for longer than Lucius."
"Oh." She looks uncomfortable, so I try to sum it up.
"Yeah, anyways. Nott isn't a bad person. He just got caught up like I did, only he knew it was pointless long before me. My initial point being was that we were talking about you during your audition, and I showed him your letter to me."
"Really? Why?"
"Because he said you were an, ahem, 'delicious strawberry'. He's pretty bad with girls, likes anything that's female, not that you don't deserve the, er, compliment, but he's a horn dog."
"Gross," she grimaces.
"But I think we're friends or something, so he promised to tell me who his partner was if I told him too, hence me showing him the letter bit. I had those shots with him, by the way. That's why I showed up drunk in the library. He needed it to talk about Millicent his partner, and I did too because I was scared to meet you alone."
"Scared?" She contemplates it for a moment. "I thought you disliked me so much you didn't want to see me unless intoxicated."
What?
"Hermione? No! No, no, no , no absolutely no! It was because I found you extremely appealing and it was a frightening thought to sit with you alone. Why else would I say you were hot when you swear or make lewd comments behind the bookcase?"
"I don't know….I thought you were trying to annoy me," she confesses, a little shamefaced. "Sorry."
"It's fine," I chuckle, "A little insulting, but yeah, I get where it would stem from. Anyways, since Nott knows I had a crush on you, though I never outright admitted it to him, if you ever seek salvation in old Hoggy Woggy's, you're welcome to come on up to the room. I'll force Nott to go bunk with Graham."
"Wouldn't you like that?" She asks impishly.
"Too much," I reply huskily, pulling her into me in embrace.
"No, let's go! Let's go! I'm sorry for bringing all this business up; we can worry about the project tomorrow. School and horrible people are killing my buzz, I was in a good mood! It should carry out for a little while longer!'
"Your 'buzz'? You are really weird when you're uppity."
She pouts, but I wipe it off by kissing her on the lips.
"No, don't start that now, it's already six! We have to walk down the hill!" She pushes me away but I grab her upper arms.
"Ever heard of being fashionably late?" I trap her against a nearby tree, and silence her with my tongue.
"Drac-mmph." Her attempts at pushing me off of her are futile. Luckily for me, the one advantage I have over her is height; she's fairly petite, so I can almost pin her.
After a minute or two, she stops moving, and stops responding as well, making it no more fun. Her being still makes me feel like a creep attacking her.
I let her go. "Okay, let's go, you unadventurous minx."
She grins and then leans in to whisper, "Co-operate and I'll give you your wish from earlier. An hour of making out, whenever you want."
the tone of her voice makes me shudder. "I hate you."
"No you don't." She flicks my nose, and stalks away from me. It takes me a minute to follow her trail, I'm in a daze from her tantalizing presence like a lovesick puppy.
"That's blackmail, you know. I thought you were supposed to be in Gryffindor!" I yell, catching up with her.
"And I thought you were supposed to be cunning? Shouldn't you have foreseen that?"
It's never a dull moment with this one.
As we reach the top of the hill, I have the sobering realization that we're about to have a bunch of moments with the occupants of the tall crooked house at the bottom. None of them will be dull, but I doubt they'll be pleasant either.
"You ready?" She asks, the image of 'The Burrow' evidently making her a little calmer. My happier face from a moment ago disappears.
"No."
"Well, prepare yourself," she laughs nervously, walking again. We get down the slope quickly, I hold onto Hermione's hand so she doesn't fall.
As the home looms nearer, it looks more and more daunting, rising up like that into the sky, looking like an awkward stone prison. A stench of chicken coop fills my nostrils, in fact, some are ambling around nearby behind some wire. I can hear and feel the wind rap against the windows, through which nobody can be seen, the inside lit dully by candle.
I'm trying hard not to judge immediately, but it does look a tad bit shabby, a bit poorly made. A sign announcing its title, as if it were a manor, stands unevenly in the earth a few metres before the front entrance. The Burrow.
I know I can charm my way through most people, so I just hope that Weasley's mother takes kindly to flattery, and doesn't see through me.
Hermione squeezes my hand one last time before letting me go and giving me the look that says 'Good luck', before stepping up onto a welcome mat and using the wooden knocker.
She ushers me onto it with her, and I join her, holding my breath, butterflies assaulting my stomach as the person behind it swings open the door.
I thank the stars that it's Ginevra, or Ginny. I don't know if she wants me to call her as that. She's wearing a casual green robe with jeans, I suppose everyone except me is used to Muggle fashion mixing.
"Hi, 'Mione," she smiles a bit tightly, giving a small wave. Hermione returns it, saying nothing, while Ginny darts a look at me and raises her eyebrows.
"So you came, huh?"
I purse my lips and turn to Hermione, as if she can give me a cheat sheet on how to talk to these people. She tilts her head roughly towards Ginny like I'm an idiot, urging me with her eyes to respond.
"Yes, I came," I gulp, emitting barely a breath.
"I'm glad to see you're intimidated, Draco," she addresses me, smiling, challenging me to get angry at her for calling me that.
"Well, at least somebody can enjoy it, Ginny," I reply, trying to smile back. I don't want her to think I'm being rude.
"Oh, the boy can play," she laughs. I let out a strangled titter, unsure of where my tongue disappeared to. "Come in, you're late. Well not really, it's only 6:08, as Dad reminded me three times, but Mum decided that we should all be sat down when you arrive so we can eat right away."
"So we can distract ourselves in case our conversation is awkward?" Hermione asks, walking inside and ditching her coat onto a rack by a pile of boots.
"Yes, mainly Ron. You can put your coat there too, if you'd like," Ginny tells me.
I do as she says, my stomach plunging into my intestines. Oh god, the Weasel and Potter are waiting for me.
"Where is everyone?" Hermione asks.
"Out back. There wasn't enough space in here, but we have a heating spell so it won't be cold. We're under the tarp. George and his new girlfriend are here too, you see." Hermione and she share a look, one that is evidently girl coded, while I want to drop dead because it just adds another person to the list of who I don't want to see.
"Andromeda is also here with Teddy." Ginny looks at me apologetically for the massive crowd awaiting my trial.
Wait. Andromeda.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Are you KIDDING ME?
Andromeda and Teddy, really?
"Oh," Hermione says in a completely defeated tone. She looks at me and I refuse to stare back, completely livid. She tries to change the subject. "Erm, how did you know we were here then?"
"Oh, been waiting here for a bit, Dad keeps coming in and then leaving in a huff, like it's been 3 hours instead of 5 minutes."
Seriously? Fuck this. I don't want to see them, not here, not now.
"Er…is something wrong?" Ginny asks, sensing some growing tension when Hermione fails to be amused by her story.
"I've never met my aunt before," I state coldly before Hermione can. Ginny's face grows white.
"Oh….bollocks. That's why she was so hesitant to come over, then. My mother thought it would be a good thing to have you together 'at last'. I thought she simply meant because of wartime crap you hadn't seen her in a while."
"Well, lucky me, right?"
"Draco," Hermione croaks sadly. She reaches out to grab my arm but I gently push it off with my hand.
"Just don't. It's not your fault, if it was a good intention I shouldn't be upset. Makes it about a hundred times more difficult to walk into that room, but you're lucky I like you enough to do this."
"You should feel lucky she's giving you the time of day, Malfoy." Ginny replies, crossing her arms, while Hermione whimpers at our conflict.
"I know I'm extremely fortunate. However, you have no idea what has happened to my aunt. She was disowned by the Black family, by my mother and lovely aunt Bellatrix, I'm sure you remember her?" Ginny stiffens and I nod. "Yes, I knew you would. My father was extremely rude to her, and my grandparents, though they loved me, were not very forgiving people."
"Maybe it's time to make amends, then? You're here, obviously you like Hermione a lot to even step foot in my house knowing who's in it. Why make the mistake your mum did?"
I deeply sigh.
"Maybe you're right."
"Excuse me? Did you just….?" The red haired vixen in front of me is dumbfounded I agree with her.
"I told you he's different," Hermione murmurs, and I can't help but smirk.
"Well, I'll be. Malfoy having some sense. You know, if you try to make me like you more, I can help you out, I am dating your number 1 enemy, remember?"
"I remember," failing to be amused at her attempts to calm me down.
"Good, keep it up, giving in suits you better than assholeish-ness."
"Ginny," Hermione scolds, where her friend turns sheepish.
"My bad. Let's all come on out, time is a wastin' and my dad is impatient because he still has a grudge from the petty squabble with your dad, Malfoy. Might as well not make him angrier, eh?" She saunters into the back, where I drudge along, now feeling faint, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'm going to call you Malfoy, is that okay? I don't like Draco, it's too…weird."
I look at my surroundings as we pass; a crowded kitchen, a cozy fireplace room (maybe a sitting room?), and a breakfast table. I look above me as we pass a long winding staircase that goes up who knows how many floors. It's an interesting house to say the least.
"It is rather odd. What should I call you?"
"Eh, just call me Ginny. Weasley is too generic, there're too many of us. And if you ever call me by my first name, you're dead," she warns. "Anyways. Good luck!" she sings, as we reach the back door.
She opens it up, dances out of it and says 'Our Guests have arrived!"
As I step out into a well-lit orange tent-like structure, what feels like a million faces swoop around to look at me. Half look at me with a snarl, the others apprehensive. Potter is staring me down along with Mr. Weasley and dear George, while the original Weasel is fixated on Hermione, who is pushing me to go and sit next to Andromeda.
My aunt, who I've never seen until I take a seat, is a picture of my mother and Bellatrix; a kind face, blue eyes with dark hair. I can't look at her properly, and neither can she towards me. My second cousin is seated in a high chair, barely a year old, smiling and bouncing like only a child could in the face of such a strained atmosphere.
Mrs. Weasley is at a loss of what to say, like Andromeda, and Ginny is no longer able to smooth things over.
Dear lord, help me.