You won't get much closer, until you sacrifice it all,
You won't get to taste it, with your face against the wall.

Doubts will try to break you, unleash your heart and soul.
Trouble will surround you, start taking some control.
Stand up and deliver, your wildest fantasy.
Do what the fuck you want to, there's no one to appease.

Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes, and this chaos, it defies imagination.

- Panic Station, Muse

7:30 AM: Wake up, rub eyes and recall the previous days events.

7:31 AM: Remember idiocy, remember overreacting, remember weepy tantrum, bump head on headboard in annoyance at self. Get dressed and avoid Nott.

7:45 AM: Arrive at the Great Hall quickly as possible because appetite is hearty this morning

7:47 AM: Hermione comes lumbering over from barely eaten porridge and proceeds to freak out. ("I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE PERFORMING IN LESS THAN 12 HOURS!")

7:51 AM: Still freaking out – Good god, she spent two hours in the library before breakfast.

7:55 AM: Almost have her calm -

8:00 AM: Promise to skip breakfast to practice before class in an attempt to make sure she doesn't explode.

9:15 AM: After playing our piece nearly 10 times, we are both late for Charms, causing a stirring of crude sexual suggestions and disproving glares from peers.

10:30 AM: Cannot concentrate in Astronomy, nerves mounting about this evening once I'm alone with my thoughts. Sidenote: Why the hell did I even take this class?

11:27 AM: Professor Binns is an idiot. Will he ever shut up? Who knows? The saga continues. Sidenote: Remember why I took Astronomy; to go outside and get away from this stuffy castle.

12:52 PM: Arithmancy; at least Granger is actually in this class. Too bad we're not sitting next to each other. Should've taken Muggle Studies instead of this garbage, I don't give a shit about the magical properties of the number 7.

1:40 PM: We're back in the seventh year practice room, filled with students just as anxious as Hermione and I. Still no food in my stomach. Guess lunch isn't an option.

2:30 PM: Double potions….yay. Potter gives me a death glare when Hermione decides to be my partner; Weasley spills their cure for boils all over the table. Pity.

4:00 PM: Final class of the day; Music. More fine tuning before dinner, McGonagall lets us have free reign, thank god. She's just as stressed about the superintendents coming. We have handed in our written assignment, causing terror and fear in my neurotic girls heart.

5:35 PM: Back at the fair Slytherin Table, where we lay our scene.

Hermione is going to have an aneurysm. I can sense her brain exploding at any moment now.

I, on the other hand, may have an explosion of my own, if you catch my drift.
Hermione insisted we go change into something impressive. I picked a black blazer with a scarlet t-shirt and dragon leather pants for laughs. I figure if I'm going to be faced with major scrutiny in this crowd I may as well be obnoxious as I can.

Hermione is in that green dress from the first day I went to her house during break. Wild hair, bare legs and some cleavage, she looks positively tantalizing.

"Oh god, I think I may have forgotten to capitalise one of the song names on the third page of analysis! I am so sorry! I'm so sorry!" she practically cries in her hands as I attempt to actually pay attention to her ramblings. I've been casually (read; obviously) staring her up and down for the past half hour.

I pat her head in a 'there, there' motion, taking hold of her hand.

Even if I cared about her mistake, I don't, truly and honestly there is nothing she could do to piss me off tonight and probably forever. Yesterday proved that she fucking cares a lot about me, everything became excruciatingly real. Up until then I was trying to find reasons why I didn't care because I was so scared of the fact that she would.

Nott's confrontation with me was such a wakeup call; a rude awakening would be more accurate. I never suspected that he'd go off on me like that and actually be, well, right.

And though Hermione is convincing me to be a better person, I'm not so sure I'm as good as she think I can be. But damn, I have to try.
I have to try harder.
No actually, I have to stop being hard.

Speak of the devil, Nott is chancing glances at us from the end of the table, gauging my emotions today. I don't think he feels bad for what he said. Rather he probably realized he went a bit too far. He was pissed off because of Millicent and he took it out on me.

I hope he doesn't dwell in any case (a bit would be nice though). I didn't see them practicing at all today. Maybe he just doesn't give a fuck and is more concerned about her welfare than his academic future, which is the right thing to do in this circumstance.

I think if I had a meltdown today, Hermione would be lost as to what action she should take because she'd want to practice the hell out of our set like we have been and then would've tried to cheer me up too. And then set her own mind properly. It must suck to be so caring.

"I reread it a thousand times, how could I have done something so stupid?!"

"Hermione," I command, trying not to laugh at how fretful her face is. I grab her shoulders to make her still and she looks at me, breathing heavily. "It's done. We worked our asses off in the library this past week, remember? We handed it in, nothing we can do about it now. And it was perfect, only had to reread it once to see that. You're better than answering questions though, good thing you barely let me in edgewise."

She gives me a solemn smile, blushing.
"It wasn't perfect. I just can't help it, I am going to be worried until we receive our marks."

"Well it was better than anything I'd write alone. It's good to be scared about it, it means you care. But look, there's no point in getting overwhelmed at the thought of what could be when you'll know how it is in a few days. We have the performance in 2 hours, we know it top to toe, just try and channel your apprehension into determination."

"You're not going to tell me to relax?" she asks, fidgeting in my grip, tapping her fingers on the bench.

"I would if it helped, but it won't. You always come out on top acting the way you are, you're spurred on by your wracked nerves. I get it. I work better with less pressure so I've been mentally trying all day to convince myself that I'm the best thing that ever graced the planet so nothing and nobody will faze me."

"Oh….I guess I've caused you a lot of stress then haven't I? I just think one can never be good enough, that's hard to cope with when you like to pretend you're great. Is your thing working?"

"I don't pretend I'm the best, I am the best," I chuckle. "And not exactly. I just find that overconfidence works for me, that's how I managed to piss you lot off all those years. I know it bothered you that I barely reacted."

"Barely reacted?" she giggles incredulously.

"Okay, maybe not always," I feel my cheeks turn pink, thinking of Buckbeak. "But when you insulted me back I think I deflected it alright."

"Well, I suppose," she looks up to the ceiling, thoughtful. "But you needn't do that now. If it helps you in school, alright, but if it's a fake emotion, don't act on it."

"Promise," I agree, slapping my hand on the table. "Now…on to big business. Besides you eating something, any corrections you noticed for me?"

"Oh, right," she mumbles, grabbing a random jug, pouring some juice in her empty cup. "No corrections, your piano was good. Just try hard to stay in time once I count myself in. Me?"

I daren't say it but I must for the sake of 100%. I hope she doesn't kill me: "Erm, you were a bit flat singing the verses."

She was guzzling her drink but halts mid gulp to stare at me, eyes wide with self-consciousness.

"Look, it wasn't bad. We're not being graded on our singing ability anyways. Chalk it up to strained vocal chords, Hermione. We did it about a million times today."

"How flat? What note? Was it the C sharp? God why did I even pick Muse! Why did I pick a song with vocals? Why couldn't I pick a nice symphony or a duet? I had to –"

"Stop it!" I cover her mouth gently with my hand and she steadies her breathing to normal. "I'm sure I wasn't a-plus at singing too, was I?"

"Mmphhll – Well, no," she answers, pushing my arm away. "But I feel responsible considering I chose the song."

"It's fine, Hermione. I like the song, I want to do it. We have to be honest with each other if we want to do awesome. Just drink some water and clear your throat, you'll sound great. Now judge my singing," I flick my fingers back and forth gesturing to lay it on me.

"Um, well you sing a bit restrained, like you know you're being heard and are hesitant about how good you are. I don't know if this is something you can just reverse in an hour, but you know." She shrugs.

I consider this for a moment, realizing she's right.
Merlin knows that the plebeians need one more thing to mock me for. If these pants aren't distracting enough, having to sing sing (and suck at it) certainly will. Probably cause lovely re-enactments from Finnigan or Weasel tomorrow.

"Alright milady, I'll keep that in mind."
She smiles at me and begins to finish her measly meal until she clanks her goblet down suddenly.

"Oh my god."

"What? What is it?"

She looks positively alarmed, turning white as if she'll be sick.

"When I was in the library this morning, I read through our paper as well as looking up properties for transfiguration and I left my assignment on the table. And it's due in a week!"

She swings her legs over her seat and sprints in her little dress all the way out of the hall.
Dammit.

I grab her bag with our sheet music in them and chase after her, knowing if she doesn't retrieve her notes she's going to be absolutely pissed.

On the way up past the Gryffindor hallway, Ginny yells to get my attention from the stairs, running and grabbing my arm to stop me.

"What's the hurry? Is everything alright?"
She's dolled up too, holding her cello and getting ready to go down early to meet Michael Corner.

"Hermione left an essay in the library this morning because she was frazzled by our performance and the written assignment. She took off just now before I could say anything, so I'm going to go find her," I reply as her eyes grow wide.

"Ah, no! Code Red. She's going to be freaking out. Good luck," she says, patting my back to urge me to go on my way.

"Thanks." I'm running again, passing by students who are judging me hard, given my attire and socially unacceptable speed.

I get to my destination, wondering how the hell I got so far behind Hermione, weaving through shelves with no direction.

Just in front of the restriction section is where I find her, standing up straight by a workstation. I put my hands on her shoulders, about to ask if she's okay, surprised she isn't more fussy.

"It's not here."

"Sorry?"
She's speaking so low.

"My paper. It's not here. I only used this desk to read before I skimmed our Music assignment."

I feel my stomach clench with nervousness at her colourless tone.

"Maybe it's still in your bag? You checked it didn't you, or upstairs in your – "

She shoves her open bag at my face and shakes her head. "No, I never keep my essays anywhere but my backpack, I have a charm set that goes off if somebody tried to steal anything from it."

"Wow, really?" I reply, impressed. "Maybe you could do that to – no, another time. Look, maybe Madam Pince has it, maybe somebody handed it in to her."

"I doubt it. And even if she does, she isn't at the front desk."

"Hermione, we'll find her tomorrow, I promise. We'll find it. We haven't checked everywhere. I don't want to be a dick but we have more pressing matters at hand right now. I'll help you redo it."

"No!" she flails her arms up to shake me off. "I want to find it, do it myself," she bites, causing me to step back.

"Look, I'm sorry Draco," she slumps. "Just, god, I lost something in here once before. Somebody found it, finished the ending, and handed it in to Flitwick. It was in fifth year. I had my name on it and everything, they crossed it out. The only reason they got caught is because I wrote an identical introduction in my fresh sheet and Flitwick called us in to ask about it."

"What?" Who the fuck does that? "Who did it, I'll kill them."

"Some Hufflepuff girl, I don't know her, and I don't care to. I just don't want it to happen again. I spent so much time on it, it was four pages, I can't believe I lost it, ahh!"

She grabs her hair in frustration and stomps the ground with her foot.

"You're sure you didn't go anywhere else? Not even to check a tiny detail or –"

"Oh my god!" She shouts. "I completely forgot. The reference room!"

"The what?"
Oh great, she's running away again.

"The reference room," she repeats as I follow her like a helpless dog. Pretty good analogy actually. "It's full of encyclopaedias that are too rare to check out. You need a key to get in, and permission from a head, which is likely why you've never been in. You probably didn't know it exists."

"No, I didn't. You're probably the only one left who knows about it," I say, and she rewards me with a death glare instead of a smile.

We stop in front of a dingy door, completely forgettable, no surprise I've never seen it before.
"So you went in here then did you?" I ask as she pulls out a brass key from a zippered pocket.

"Yes, I was trying to find out who helped Gamp in outlining the laws of elemental transfiguration!" she exclaims opening the door. "I was in here for only 10 minutes, but I think I realized how little time I had to check our work, so I left right –"
She jumps into the cramped room with a workstation and measly bookshelf; it's pristine and empty.
"-away," she finishes disappointed.

She sinks against the bookshelf, dropping her bag on the ground and exhaling, let down.

"It's gone, it's so gone."

"You don't know that yet," I say softly.

"But where else could it be?"

"Again, Madam Pince isn't here. We'll ask that old hag and she'll lecture us the importance of keeping our belongings to ourselves until we fall asleep but maybe she'll have it." She chuckles faintly to my delight and I grab her hand. "Come on, Hermione. Don't lose hope yet, that's for me to do."

"Oh stop it," she smiles, shoving my leg with her hip. "I suppose I'm overreacting. I'm just so stressed out."

"Yes, it's the same old song and dance, love. But it'll be alright, okay. It's going to be fine."

"You don't know that for sure. I guess I'll try to be cheery." She sighs deeply. "Now there's the fact that I don't want to go perform. Not while I have this anxiety of finding my notes on top of my anxiety of making a mistake in front of an audience."

"Try to forget about it, for only five minutes. We'll get on stage and it'll be over in a flash. The nerves will mount and then we'll be lost in playing the song. Then you can worry about everything afterwards. When we get on the stage just remember that you always do well, and you won't be alone, I'm going to help you, Hermione. Kay?"

"Didn't you tell me not ten minutes ago that I should channel my worry?"

"That was before you decided to have a panic attack," I smirk, standing in front of her, pushing her back against the desk and pulling out the chair. I sit down. "Here, get on my lap."

"Get on your lap? I thought we had more pressing matters?" she laughs, poking my nose in.

Taking her hand in mine, I spin her body around so she sits on my legs, facing frontwards, then place my hands on her shoulders. I begin to slowly knead the muscles there and on her neck, feeling her relax a bit in my grip (finally).

"We do, but I need you to be alright before said matters. And being tense is probably the worst thing for a musician to be before a big show, hmm?" I kiss her nape, causing a slight 'ah' to rise from her.

"You're probably right. That feels nice," she breathes.

"I'm glad."

"Mm, how are you so good at massages?" She lolls her head back against my forehead, her long hair getting in my eyes.

"I'm not," I chuckle. "You probably just don't have them very often."

"True," she murmurs while I move my hands further down her back.

I go for a few more minutes of loosening her up, enjoying the girly mewls she's trying so hard to stifle from me hearing. I can feel myself getting harder every time she emits a little groan.

"Question: how much longer til we need to get our things and go to the great hall?"

I stop to glance at my wristwatch. "It's almost 6. We're supposed to be there for quarter past 7, yeah? So an hour."

"Okay I have a bit more time to calm down. Thank you for being so patient with me today, I know I can be crazy."

"It's fine. I'd rather you be that way instead of uncaring."

She wriggles free from me, turning so she's straddling me now.
"Yes, but if you operate differently from me it's much more difficult to deal with."

"Actually it's not. If we were both super anxious we wouldn't be able to get it together at all."

"You're right actually." She leans in, grabs my face to kiss me. "How do you seem to know the right thing to say?"

"Eh, I spent so long trying to come up with good insults, works both ways. I have my moments."

"You certainly do."
I tug her in closer, wanting to taste her again.
The way she looks at me is not the same way she looked at me a month ago.
Fuck, she's so great.

"You look nice by the way, a tad absurd, but, hmm, sexy?" she whispers into my ear, moving her hands to my back and massaging me.

Alright, I'm reaching maximum capacity in my pants now. "Rubbing my back now? Bad idea, Granger. And sexy? Compared to you? Non, non ma cherie, I am nossing compared to you," I tease in a shitty French accent.

She giggles, melting her lips on me again. "You are ridiculous. And yes, Pierre, I don't want you tense either. How irresponsible that would be right before a test."

"Even more irresponsible than turning me on like this?" I reply, grabbing under her knees and using my measly might to get her up on top of the table.

"Oh, it might be. Doesn't seem like you mind too much, though." She wraps her legs around me to come a little closer, the desk low enough so my erections pressed up so near to her I could scream.

She's snatching patches of my hair, snogging me senseless, so fast, different from yesterday afternoon. There's no tame, no relent. Like we're drunk again, our protesting emotions abandoned.

"You have a weird effect on me lately, every time we're in close quarters I want to jump on you," she pants as she pulls away for air.

"Spring fever?"

"No, lust I think," she grins devilishly.
And pushes the door closed with her foot.
And pushes the door closed with her foot.

My young boy fantasies are becoming real again.
I'm almost laying on top of her, running my fingers along every inch of her I can, pulling her dress down to caress her breasts. She's taken my blazer off, she's got her hands on my hips, stroking the bare skin over my bone.

She's too damn close to my cock, my mind is diluted with the thought of shagging right here in the library.

"Touch me, please." She utters the words I so wish I had the guts to say, but I oblige, knowing where she means.

She digs her nails into me as I trail my hand where she wants it, rubbing her upper thighs gently, tempting her before I ease my fingers inside, pushing away her panties.

She grasps me tighter, kissing me in-between hitching breaths and silent whimpers of pleasure. I stroke her slowly, trying to build the pressure. But I give up halfway through, losing control and going quicker and quicker when I feel her getting wetter and wetter.

"Draco."

"Yes?" I ask, nipping her neck lightly with my teeth.

"Draco, I want you."

"You have me," I whisper against her cheek, feeling my insides fill with butterflies.

"No, don't be an idiot. I want you. I want to have sex," she says so low I think I've misheard her.

Flooding images of her completely naked, of myself completely naked, of us together in the most intimate of ways arrive.

I want to make certain, my trousers threatening to rip in two. I move my hands to her hips and move my gaze to hers.
Her sweet copper eyes are full of longing, and if there was any resolve left in me, she ghosts her hands tentatively along my erection and it's all but disappeared.

"You're sure?"

She nods, biting her lip, nervously she says it. A "Yes".

The word rings in my ears, the affirmation so beautiful. The room feels suddenly hazy, this is surreal and this can't be happening.

But it is, my conscious reminds me as the excitement is tearing through me, the idea that's been lingering, swirling my head for months coming to fruition.

And oddly, this doesn't feel too soon, even though it's so sudden. Perhaps it's because I've been ready for it, it's so uncharacteristic for Hermione, but me? Not at all, it's been me wanting her so badly, an unhealthy need.
Perhaps it's because I care about her more than I let myself fathom.

And I'm kissing her again, even more passionate than before, because it's just the start. I want to rip off her dress, have her unzip my pants, and touch me through thin cloth, taking rasping gasps of air before pulling me bare, discarding everything below my waist.

So I do it.
I tell her what I want, I gently desert her dress onto the floor and when I get my trousers off, she takes the initiative to feel me, and make me want to come right then. Tentative fingers skimming my length, unfamiliar territory.

I slide the only thing separating me from her down to her ankles, throwing them on the floor, kicking my way out of my tangled mess, our clothes away once and for all. And she's holding me so softly it pains me, inhaling erratically as she stares at me waiting to take the lead.

I can feel her vibrating with anticipation and apprehension, so I rub her most sensitive spot for a few seconds more, her moans sending me over the edge. But I can't hold back any longer, and I spread her legs apart.
The buildup before we take this giant step, the tension growing every passing second feels like a weight on me, but I push the thoughts away of her having expectations of me because I know right now they won't be fulfilled, and I know right now it'll probably hurt. I just have to do the best I can.

And as I edge the tip close to feel her for the first time, I know she's thinking the same. By the way she stops and breathes my name.
"Go slow," is all she can let escape, causing a smirk to fall on my face for reasons I can't explain.

"Promise." I can't think of any words or phrases that wouldn't be awkward, that would be comforting in any way.

I sense how she tenses: "Hermione, you should guide me in…it won't be as uncomfortable."
I let that sentence tumble out, regretting it immediately by how bloody stupid it sounds, but knowing that it was the proper thing to say.

"Okay…" she stops for a moment, catching the eyes she was trying to avoid. She grabs my cock, not daring to actually look at it, and levels her face with mine.
"I'm ready," she utters against my lips, shyly directing my erection to her again.

Resistance comes to my lower half, and a blissful feeling that swallows me whole.
I grab her arse, enabling me to get in further, while she clutches my neck. I push myself in, she's squeezing me so hard, and she's oh so tight.
It's fucking amazing.

She whines a little as I get all the way. One of pain, not pleasure.
"Are you okay?"

Her arms wrap around me and I feel her shaking.
"No."

Whoever said that your first time was merely awkward must have been having a grand old time, because I can feel Draco go soft inside of me, and I am so embarrassed I want to shrivel up really thin to join one of the pages of these books, never to be read again.

He pulls out of me, disappointment etched on his face, though he's trying to hide it.
"Draco – " I begin, words dying in my throat as he stares me in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I – just – I'm so scared, and I thought I could relax, but we have the performance and then I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that we're in a book cupboard. I'm very turned on, but I'm hesitant about it, and it hurt even though I thought I was mentally prepared for it and - God!"

I'm so pathetic!
We started off so good, how can ten minutes change so much in temperament?

"Don't apologize, it's alright," he sighs, tucking his hands under my arms to embrace me. "Don't worry, Hermione, I'm nervous too."

"Really? Well you seem calm." Very calm, actually. I was fidgeting with my fingers and he was yanking off his shirt, whispering how much he longed for me to stroke him.

"I just really want you. And that's enough to make me forget about my insecurities. Trust me, everyone in the history of the world is anxious right before it happens regardless of how they act, especially if it means something."

Why does it have to mean something? Why does this have such a high pedestal in my mind?
And I look at him, with his glistening skin, his messy pale hair and fervent grey eyes. His understanding nature, how much he's done to try and be with me, how much I know he appreciates me. How great I think him to be even with his faults and mistakes, how attracted I am to him.

That's why it all means something. The other person makes it so intimidating.
Because if I have sex with him, our relationship will change, and it's not a bad thing, I'm simply overwhelmed with everything else going on right now.
And it's not fair. Because I know the first time isn't good, it takes time to learn what we like inside and out.

"God, I want you too. I'm overthinking again, it's just –"

"Lovely girl, you must be ready to do it." he kisses me quiet, I smile wanly back. "It's been a month, I don't expect you to do a 180 and just abandon ship, be reckless in the library. You're too sensible with relationships for that."

His consideration is killing me.

"I just feel like I ruined it, it was a perfect moment, we both wanted it and then I had to go and listen to my prattling inadequate thoughts."

"You weren't ruining it, not really. This wouldn't be the same experience if it wasn't the Hermione experience. You need to unwind a bit, like you said. Look, I will wait for you, and give myself blue balls a hundred times more, repeat this experience if it means you'll enjoy it," he smirks, leaning against me again, drawing our bodies close together, the skin on skin sensation more delicious now I can appreciate it.

He's caressing my back, snogging me deeply instead of unrestrained, trying, I realize, to salvage this, to save it from being totally rubbish. From having me believe I totally screwed up.
Something in my chest plummets and I'm overcome with a rush of affection for him.

"I can rectify this situation a little bit, if you'd like," I tell him, coming up for air.
Truth is that I'm still turned on. And honestly, if I want to feel better about us doing it, I need to get better acquainted with the equipment for it to happen.

"What do you mean?"

"It's only fair that since I stopped you from getting off, I finish the job."

"Y-yeah?" he wheezes; I can feel his stomach heaving in and out.

"Yes, it was rather silly of me to think that I could properly have sex with you without knowing your body a bit better."

I push him away, unraveling my legs and jumping down. Though I'm unsure of what I'm doing, I know the mechanics, and I can certainly pay attention to his reactions. I grab his package firmly in my hand, feeling myself become wet when I see he's grown a little just from the contact. I look him in the eye, something to show the false confidence I have, and he tangles his hands in my hair, tugging me towards his mouth. Kissing my lips, moving down to plant some along my collar bone, up my neck, nibbling my ear to make me groan.

Dammit, he deserves this being so patient with me today. I slide my hands down his chest, scratching his thighs lightly as I dance them down to his feet as I get on bended knees, staring up at him from the carpet. I'm daunted by the prospect of his pulsing penis, now in my grip again. He went inside of me almost entirely, but he's so very thick I wonder if he'll fit in my mouth.

I swallow my nerves, take a deep breath and lick the tip. His body goes rigid; I run my tongue along his whole length. He lets a strangled moan escape, leaning back to clutch the back of the chair.

"Sit down," I command, while he lowers into the seat, in taking a breath of air.

"Ooh, I like when you tell me what to do," he replies huskily, smirking.

I give him a look, "Don't wreck the moment, funny boy."

"I'm being sexy, shut up, I'm really excited," he laughs. That is until I wrap my lips around him again and he's immediately silenced.

I ignore the strange sensation of sucking and try to focus on breathing. Close my eyes and listen to sounds he's making, so I can shove it as far down my throat as possible. I smell the clean scent of soap mixed with skin, I can hear him whimper, am aware of his fingers tightening their grip on the chair arms before he gently curls them into my hair, pushing my head down with the rhythm I've made.

And though I'd rather be the one fully in charge, his little noises, the ones he's attempting to suppress for fear of being loud are causing me to be hot and bothered, somehow the most erotic part of this whole encounter we've had in the room. I am incensed to try and get him even deeper, now I know I'm doing it alright, but I feel a protest in my vocal chords. I choke.

For a moment I think I made a huge mistake, was too cavalier, but then an 'Oh my god,' is said, and it doesn't matter. And I realize I've been so hung up on doing everything 'properly' that I haven't just let go.
The first time is important to me, but Draco , I suddenly realize, I can trust. I trust him.
He's not going to leave me when this is over, he's not going to think I'm not enough. We've been through so much, that wouldn't make any sense.
Our chemistry has been clear from the beginning, so what's stopping me now? Why have I let fear crippled me when before I never would've let it stand in my way of getting what I want.

As I'm getting him harder and harder in my mouth, knowing he's going to cum soon, I feel my lower half jumping with desire.
I really want to fuck him, don't I?
I want this. I am ready for this.

Then a revelation hits me like a ton of bricks, and it engulfs me.
I must ask him something.

"Draco – do you trust me?"
I ask, standing up in front of his panting figure, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Y-yeah, of course I do, Hermione. If yesterday was any indication of – Yes, of course I do," he replies, flashing a quick smile, wiping sweat of his brow and intertwining a hand with mine, that was resting atop one of his.
"Why – what's –"

And that's all the answer I need.

I take a deep breath, place a finger to his mouth, and straddle him once more, so his erection rests against my belly. This time no barrier between us.

"I don't want to make the same mistakes I did before. I want you, and I want you now," I tell him tenderly, pushing stray hairs off his forehead.

"You didn't make mistakes, Hermione. You weren't ready and you never talked about it, you didn't want it then," he swallows hard, a lump still in his throat.

"Yes, but I do now. And I am ready. I'm taking your advice and trying not to worry about it so much. Which is why I'm talking about it only briefly," I grin.

Pushing myself up on his legs, lowering a bit onto his throbbing cock, rubbing my clit up and down his tip to lubricate.

"Fuck, Hermione." He grabs hold of my waist. "That's my favourite thing, probably ever."

"I'll keep it in mind," I reply pleased. "I can see what you mean when you say you like to dominate, have control of the situation."

I let no more words out of our mouths as I ease him inside me, feeling immediate discomfort, but enjoying this angle far more than the other.

"Jesus, you are so tight," he whispers through gritted teeth.

I can feel my body accommodating him after a few lingering moments, and as I pull up for a release, he yelps in pleasure. Sliding his grasp even lower, then around to my backside, he's eager to push me down, I know, but lets me take the lead.

There's a slow tempo that comes after the initial graceless start, and we get there with building intensity. When we do, there's room for less concentration on feeling comfortable, and more time to match our breaths. To match them in time with every thrust.

My grip has yielded, and I've draped arms around him, heads pushed together. His groans have become more regular, I'm trying to keep mine under control while I snog him. I don't want him to cum, I want this to last forever.

I just can't believe this is happening.

He's stopped kissing me suddenly; I let out a sharp intake of breath as he bites one of my nipples, sucking my breast tenderly afterwards, rubbing with perfect vigour.

As he switches sides, ghosting hands up and down, over my chest and back again, I feel arousal become more pronounced in my core, and I clench my knees tighter to his sides, grinding ever so slightly faster, wanting him deeper.

"Hermione – dammit, I'm so close."
He looks at me with apologetic eyes and a faint trace of a grin, but I'm not mad. I'm actually happy that I managed to get him so worked up before I changed my mind, and oh am I glad I decidedto do this.

"It's okay," I draw him close so we're pressed against each other, wanting these last moments to feel extra personal.

"Can I go a little faster?" he asks tentatively in my ear.

We aren't going fast enough? Is my first thought.
"Yes," is my answer.

And abruptly our regular motion has drastically changed, improved. He was barely using any of the force he had; he bucks his hips into me to push me up, and then drives my arse down with his hands.

He fills me up so wonderfully, causing us to rock the chair, feels like we're rocking the room.
I attempt to match his pace to find (too late) that this was the speed we needed to go the whole time. Because I can feel my release building up so quickly, I can`t stop the gasps and moans coming. I can't stop the incoherent phrases slipping from my lips.

"Draco, fuck – yes. Yes, yes – oh, god, yes, yes – "

And then he's scrambling to get me off him, forcing me upwards with him, his erection still pin straight, semen shooting just under my breasts because he's solid against me. He picks me up again, kissing me frantically and laying me back on the desk to get up beside me, licking a finger and then wasting no time in rubbing me fast, my swollen clit ready to burst.

"You – " he murmurs in between pecks, "are so sexy. And I – god, I had no idea how much verbal cues set me off. And you need your turn to get off."

I can barely contain myself. I'm wriggling my legs, and clawing at his shoulder with my hands, screaming into his neck. But he's relentless until I collapse from orgasm, and I do, feeling like I've just run a marathon.

Now we're both exhaling from exhaustion, sitting up because the wood is not very cosy. He wraps his arm round me, and rests his forehead against mine.

"That was fantastic. Number one moment in the Draco history books," he sighs, making me shake my head. "And I'm serious, Miss Skeptical. I can't fucking believe you'd – do you know how hot it is that you blew me and then rode me? Much better than missionary."

My revelation removes itself from the back of my skull to the front, from my emotional mind to the rational one.
I'd temporarily forgotten about it lost in that moment.

"Draco, I think I love you."

I let it hang in the air, those words that I realize are true now they've been said.
And he doesn't move away from me, he holds me tighter.

"Funny, Granger, usually that's what somebody says before having sex, not after it."

I feel myself smiling. His tone was not sad, not somber.
"And?"

"And nothing. I'm pretty sure I know I love you."

Hey guys, sorry for the delay, HUGE storms in my area unfortunately, lots of power loss.
I hope you enjoyed it, I'm rubbish at sex scenes ;) and I wanted it to be kind of a surprise, not a very obvious lead to what was about to happen, usually like what happens in the real world. Love you xo