xFourx
It's become a routine of sorts. He wakes up in the morning and the first thing he reaches for is a beer. He spends the entire day getting drunk; staying drunk. And after work she swings by his hotel room, cleans up the empty bottles and food cartons (mostly take-out) before forcing him to bed. Then she watches him sleep until she begins to fall asleep before she leaves and goes back to her own flat. And then they do it all over again the next day. It's becoming old, cleaning up after him and taking care of him, and yet she always finds herself doing it. She always goes back. Mostly because it is routine now. But also because she can't just leave him. She's sure he wants her to, but she can't. She can't leave him alone knowing that he's suffering. She can't justify letting him waste away no matter how rude he is, or how awful he was to her in school, or how much her friends still hate him. Or how much he wants her to. Because when it comes down to it, everybody needs somebody whether they want to admit it or not; he most certainly won't. But maybe she is that person for him. Maybe he, in some weird, twisted sort of way, is that person for her.
Either way, no matter what the reason, she reckons she'll keep going until she can't anymore.
X
It's been two weeks since Granger started playing Nurse-maid to his hangovers and drunkeness. Two weeks since she became his only constant in his life, apart from his alcohol of course. Two weeks. He can't remember a time when he spent this much time with one person let alone any person. And he most certainly can't remember a time when he spent so much time with her.
And yet he wouldn't want anyone else to be his Nurse-maid. In fact when she isn't around, even just for more than a few hours, he misses her. She's the only person who doesn't look at him like he's a monster, like he's a lost cause. She's the only person who doesn't treat him like he's an evil. She believes in him even though he hasn't given her a reason to do so. And a part of him likes that. A part of him likes the hopeful look she gets her eyes when he's beginning to sober up; he dismisses the disappointed look she gets when he reaches for another shot. He likes that she talks to him like he's a normal human being instead of someone who is below her, someone that isn't worthy of the air that she breathes. And if he's honest with himself, completely and utterly honest, he likes when she yells at him about his habits and his behaviour, that she isn't afraid to get mad at him and tell him exactly what she thinks. Because it shows that she cares. She cares enough to stick around even though every time she does, he tells her not to. And even though he knows that she shouldn't, that she isabove him and that she'd be better off without his burden, and even though he tells her that every day, he secretly likes that she stays.
He changes the routine on a Friday. He knows that Granger won't like it, and that's why he does it.
X
Hermione goes into panic mode Friday evening after work. She stops at a Chinese take-out place on the way to Malfoy's flat after work but when she gets there it's empty. Leaving the take-out on his counter, she apparates to her own flat to see if perhaps he had gone there instead, having gotten bored of waiting for her. She's rather disappointed that he isn't there. She's still rather calm though as she begins to look for him. She apparates back to his place and checks the rooms once more before going out to ask Max if he knows where he went. The answer of course is no, and so thus begins Hermione's' mission to find him-because Merlin knows what kind of trouble he's getting himself into at the very minute. Like any smart witch would do, she goes to every bar/pub and club in the Wizarding world, and he isn't at any of them. That's when she begins to panic. And in her state of panic, she finds herself going to Harry's flat.
With tears building in her eyes, she walks out of the fire place into the living room of the flat he shares with Ron. "Harry?"
When no immediate answer comes she tries again.
"Harry!"
Her voice comes out more strained than she would like. Both Harry and Ron appear in the living room seconds later, looking worried and confused. "What is it?" Harry asks her urgently.
"What's wrong?" Ron echoes.
"I can't find him…"
"Malfoy?" the redhead asks dumbly, sounding like he could care less.
"Yes! I can't find him, I dunno where he is-"
"How did you lose him?"
"I didn't lose him! I just-I went by his place after work but I stopped by his favorite Chinese restaurant on the way there to pick up dinner and when I got there he was gone so I went to my flat and he wasn't there either so I-"
"Okay, Hermione, calm down," Harry says, grabbing hold of her shoulders and her gaze to calm her down. "Just...relax, okay? Take deep breaths…"
"I don't know where he is, I checked all of the Wizarding bars and he wasn't anywhere-"
"Maybe he's in a muggle bar?"
"There are hundreds of those! Merlin he can be so thick! Who knows what kind of trouble he's getting himself into…" she whispers, looking down at the floor as a number of possibilities run through her head.
"We'll help you look for him. C'mon Ron…"
"You-you would do that? You hate him."
"We're not doing it for him, we're doing it for you," Ron tells her.
And that, she decides, is why they aren't just her best friends. They're like brothers. Because even though they hate Malfoy-despise him for all of the things he's done (and hasn't done)-they're willing to help her look for him, because even though it doesn't make sense to anyone, she cares. And that is what matters.
It's winter in London. It's cold and it's snowing and it's been hours since they first started looking for Draco Malfoy, with absolutely no avail. The three of them-the Golden Trio-are walking down their last street until calling it a night. It's a relatively quiet night-too cold and wet for most party-goers. The streets are practically empty except for the few that do brave the weather.
"I'm sure he'll turn up tomorrow just as hung over as he always is 'Mione.," Harry says.
"That's not making me feel better Harry," she mutters.
"Sorry."
"I still don't get it. I still don't understand why this means so much to you," Ron wonders, still.
"He's not that bad-"
"He's a drunk Hermione. More than that, he was a Death Eater-"
"There was no proof that he did anything wrong, remember? He just...he needs somebody to believe in him. He doesn't have anybody else," she whispers, looking down at the ground.
"Are you sure it's even working? He hasn't gotten any better," Harry points out.
"He hasn't gotten any worse either. He's not a bad person. Yes, the alcohol makes him a little bit ruder than usual, and angrier, but...he doesn't know any different."
There's a long silent pause, in which the trio walk side by side down the snow covered sidewalk before stopping outside of the last pub on their list.
"I suppose if you've stuck around this long...there might be something worth saving in him," Harry mumbles thoughtfully.
"Personally, I won't believe it until I see it," Ron says.
"This our last stop 'Mione. If he's not here, we're going home-agreed?"
Hermione sighs, willing to admit defeat. "Agreed."
"And if he is?"
"I'm gonna kick his bloody arse."
"Brilliant!" Ron exclaims.
Hermione is the first to enter the pub, scanning the parts of the room that she can see from the foyer. Ron and Harry stand behind her, also looking around. They aren't as angry or concerned, but they're just as eager to find him.
"Hermione…"
She looks in the direction that the red head is pointing in and a massive amount of relief consumes her. She smiles at both Harry and Ron. But as she continues to observe the blond man sitting a few tables away, with his right arm around the shoulders of a bottled-blond haired woman and his left arm around the waist of another, an even greater amount of anger washes over her. She grinds her teeth together in an attempt to keep from yelling his name across the pub (and attracting even more attention to him), her gaze narrowing dangerously. The nerve of him! She does everything for him-everything-and he has no qualms whatsoever about just...disappearing like that! And then to wind up at pub, wrapped around not one-no, two women? The bloody nerve! Before she even realizes she's doing so, she's walking towards him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She's vaguely aware of Harry and Ron following her, looking extremely uncomfortable. She stops in front of his booth placing her hands on her hips, waiting as patiently as possible for him to notice to her.
The first thing he notices is the lack of light all of sudden at his table, like a shadow is being cased over them. The second thing he notices is that while he's whispering drunken, sweet nothing's into the girls' ears, they're hardly paying attention. When he finally looks up, his vision blurred by alcohol, he notices Granger standing there. His lips break out into a grin, showing his teeth as he leans forward, pulling his arms out from around the girls beside him. "Granger! You found me! You're pretty good at that."
"You don't make it easy either," she snaps, folding her arms over her chest.
"Have a seat Granger! You two too, boys. Go ahead," he grins, gesturing towards the empty chairs across from him.
"We can't stay," Hermione tells him.
"What? Why not? Of course you can! You always do," the blonde reminds her cheekily. He smirks, leaning back in the booth as he places his arms back around his new friends.
"Who are they?" she asks, gesturing to his new friends.
"Oh, how rude of me. Granger this is Bella and Claire. Girls, this is Granger-"
"Hermione Granger."
"Yeah, that."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Right, well, now that you've had your fun-"
"I'm not leaving."
"Malfoy-"
"Why in the hell would I leave Granger? This is the best place on Earth! I'm having a…great time.
"Fine... Take care of yourself then, I'm done." She spins on her heel and pushes her way between a rigid Harry and Ron, who follow her shortly afterwards, as she struggles to hold back tears.
Draco watches her leave. His gaze is hazy and at first he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him so he blinks. But then she's gone. And he waits for her to come back. He waits for her to come marching over, yelling at him to smarten up and to get his arse out of the booth. He waits for the anger and the frustration and the fire storm that is Hermione Granger, all the while the two girls on either side of him are attempting to gain back his attention. But she doesn't come back. There is no marching, no yelling, no demanding. There are no golden brown eyes pleading with him despite her anger, no lips quivering with unshed tears of frustration. There is no Granger.
And then it really begins to sink in, as he sees what was right in front of him moments ago, but is only just realizing now. The way her eyes had pleaded with him to come back with her. The way her bottom lip quivered as she struggled not to cry in front of him. The way her voice sounded, not threatening like it normally is, but defeated. Truly defeated; she had given up on him. And that thought alone is enough to scare him sober.
X
She's been crying for hours.
After leaving the pub with Harry and Ron, they'd pulled her into an ally way and apparated them back to her flat, where she'd crumbled into a heap on her living couch and just started bawling. For no apparent reason she cried. Ron ran to fetch her some tea while Harry sat beside her and rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles while she choked back son after sob. She's so overwhelmed by emotion that she isn't even sure which is winning. Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. Fear. Sadness. So many things, so many thoughts are running through her mind that she can't even muster up a reasonable explanation as to why she's so upset.
It's hours later by the time she stops crying, sending the trio into silence. "I'm sorry…"
"You have nothing to apologize for. You're upset, it's understandable," Harry tells her softly.
"Yes but...I shouldn't have dragged you all over London looking for him."
"Hey, it got us out of the house. It's not like we had anything better to do," Ron encourages.
"Still.. Thank you. You guys should probably go though."
"Are you sure?"
"We can stay if you'd like?" Ron offers, insists, really.
"No, go...I'll be fine," Hermione promises.
"Okay, call us if you need anything. Or just come over," Harry tells her.
"Thanks," she whispers, smiling softly. She sits on the couch, watching them leave via the Floo. She smiles and waves but once the green flames swallow them up and then disappear, her smile fades. She leans back into the cushions, pulling her knees up to her chest comfortably. Her eyes are red and puffy and sore and her nose is runny. She's still wearing her work clothes-a pearl white t-shirt blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt with a thin silver belt. She had thrown her jacket onto the couch when she'd walked in earlier, and tossed her plain black flats on the floor near the front door. Her hair, however, has lost its 'work-glam' as it's been tousled and pulled at far too much.
Hardly five minutes after curling up on the couch, the fireplace rumbles, signaling that someone is coming through the Floo. Without even looking up, she replies. "You guys I'm fine, really."
The only reply is deafening silence, it fills her apartment with ease. And when she looks up, she's surprised to see a head of blond hair with dark, guilty looking grey eyes staring back at her. She gasps softly, taken aback by his presence. "W-what are you doing here?"
Draco hesitates. He too is unsure of what he's doing here. He just continues to stare at her, which only makes him feel guiltier. "You've been crying," he notices.
"I'm fine."
"Why have you been crying?" There's a weird sort of gentleness to his voice, a foreign sort of concern. She looks at him still, trying to figure him out, before looking away.
"It's none of your business Malfoy. Why are you here?" She pushes herself to her feet stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest-less out of anger and more out of protection.
"I just...I don't...I dunno," he stutters, unsure of the answer himself. "I was just...I was about to go home-those girls were far too annoying-and then I remembered how lonely it is there and I knew you would be here so…" He's slurring most of his words, but there's a hint of truth in them. He's looking at her intently, like he's afraid to look away but he's equally afraid to keep looking. Like he's a child afraid of the punishment he knows is coming. A part of her wants to melt and tell him that everything is okay, but it's not.
Her gaze narrows disapprovingly. "And so what, you decided you'd come here hoping that I would take care of you again? I told you I was done."
"Listen, Granger-"
"No! No, you listen to me Malfoy! I'm sick of this! I do everything for you! I do everything and I haven't gotten anything back in return. No 'thank you Granger', no 'good job Granger', no 'I owe you one Granger'-nothing! You've given me nothing but a bloody head ache and a fucking panic attack you ignorant prat! Just who the hell do you think you are Malfoy?"
"I…"
"You what? You're sorry? You're thankful? It's a little too late for that-"
"You don't mean that," he whispers wearily.
"Oh I don't? And why wouldn't I? You're selfish and rude and you've been taking advantage of me for weeks and I'm sick of it. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't help me-"
She's unable to continue suddenly, as his lips-cold and hard and chapped-are crushing down upon hers with force. She's shocked at first and she doesn't know how to react so she doesn't. His hands come up to cup her face, tilting her head back slightly to give him better access; the difference in height between them makes it a bit difficult to kiss her properly. She gasps when he drags his tongue over her lips and he takes advantage of her submission by plunging his tongue into her mouth. He swallows her moan of delight as her hands fall onto his waist. He tastes like vodka and fire whiskey and cigarettes and that alone should cause her to push him away but she pulls him closer.
All too soon he pulls away, pressing his forward against hers as the both gasp for air. His hands remain holding her face and hers remain on his hips.
"W-what...was that for?" she whispers out of breath.
"You wouldn't stop talking," he whispers back.
"Gee, thanks." Her tone is both dry and unamused as she pulls away, pushing back on his chest as she turns away from him.
"What-wait, Granger…" He reaches for her elbow, pulling her back around to face him. She stumbles on her own feet, falling against his chest with a soft 'oomph' and it knocks him back a couple steps. He's still drunk, she can tell, but he's trying hard not to show it.
"What?" Her voice is no louder than a whisper as she struggles no to look up into his face.
"I was kidding...I mean my head is pounding, yes, but… Granger.." He uses his free hand to tilt her chin up so that she had no choice but to look at him and he smiles down at her. "Ask me again why I'm here," he requests softly.
"Why are you here?"
"I missed you."
She blinks, taken aback. He missed her? Is that even possible?
"You…what?"
"I missed you. "
"You should've thought of that before you took off-"
"I only took off because I knew you would find me. You always do-"
"Well maybe that's the problem then! You're too spoiled-you assume that I'm gonna be there at your beck and call and I won't do it anymore!"
"I know. I realized that today...and you're right. That's exactly the problem. And you're absolutely right Granger, I've been taking advantage of you," he admits.
"Good, glad we're on the same page then."
"I just...I need you," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "I shouldn't, but I do. You're...you're the only person in this whole world that I can count on. You're the only person who's willing to give me a second chance, who's willing to believe in me. You...make me feel better."
"I thought alcohol made you feel better," she says stubbornly.
"It does, in a different sort of way. You're just...you're always there, I'm so used to you being there that when you're not there I...miss you. And when you walked over tonight I thought...well I just thought you'd stick around, like you always do. And then you left and, I tried to forget about it, I tried to stay and talk to those girls but I couldn't. I wanted you to come back…"
She can't help the smile that forms on her lips, or the way she softens right in front of him. This is the closest thing she'll get to a 'thank you Granger', she thinks, and somehow...it's better.
"You're the only person who gives a damn about me anymore Granger and that's the only thing that keeps me going."
"You're making it really hard to be mad at you right now," she mutters, glaring playfully at him.
"Good, I don't want you to be mad at me anymore."
"What do you want then?"
"You."
He captures her lips again with his own, running his fingers through her tousled, curly hair and then down her to her waist as he pulls her flush against him. She kisses back quickly this time, eagerly pushing her own fingers through his shaggy blond hair, moaning into his mouth. He swallows her moan, sucking on her bottom lip as he pushes her up against the wall, lifting her while simultaneously pushing her skirt up her thighs so that he can wrap her legs around his waist. She wonders briefly how he's able to do all of this, tasting and looking as drunk as he does before every rational thought that she's ever had concerning Draco Malfoy disappears; she's far too distracted by the feeling of his lips and his tongue dragging over her neck and collar bones. He uses his body to hold her up while his hands begin to tug at her blouse, pulling it out of the top of her skirt before making quick work of the buttons. She throws her head back against the wall as he pushes the fabric off of her shoulders, exposing her pearl white lace bra and perfectly rounded breasts. He groans, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck as he feels himself get harder. "Granger…"
"Hmm?"
"You need to tell me to leave...otherwise I won't be able to stop.." he mumbles, breathing in her lavender perfume.
"Then don't stop."
He groans and kisses her then, so passionately, so emotionally-it's raw and it's desperate-and he thinks that if he doesn't have her soon he just might die.
"Bedroom." Her request-although he's fairly certain it's more of a demand-comes out between short, ragged breaths. He nods, his lips searching out the milky column of her throat as she tilts her head back and his arms wrap around her waist as he lowers her into her feet. They stumble down the hall toward her bedroom. She pulls his shirt off over his head, parting their lips for only a second as his fingers fall to the waistband of her skirt before fiddling with the buttons. Her door is already open, making it easier to stumble inside. He pushes her skirt down her hips so that it falls into a puddle on the hardwood floor around her feet, revealing to him a lacy white thong and a perfectly toned stomach. She shivers as the cool air touches her skin and he grabs her by the hips, lifting her up with a sudden ease. Her legs wrap instinctively around his waist and she locks her ankles together at the small of his back. Her arousal is hot and wet on his stomach as he carries her towards the bed, receiving a guttural groan from him. He lowers her onto it carefully, adjusting her thighs so that he can make quick work of his own pants, kicking them off of his legs and onto a floor. His boxers follow suite, joining his pants and his socks in a forgotten pile at the foot of the bed. He hovers over her for a moment, taking in her beauty properly; keeping it safe, locked away in his head. He leans down to kiss her again, using his left arm to hold his weight while his right slips her thongs down her legs, dropping them on the bed behind him. She moans as his fingers crawl back up her thighs, across her stomach and behind her back to the clutches on the back of her bra. It snaps open easily and she reaches up herself to take it off. She moans as she lays back and his mouth latches to her breast.
"Draco…"
Her voice is low and husky and her breath comes in gasps as she arches her back to give him better access. And the second he hears his name-he first name-on her tongue, he freezes. She's never said his first name before; it's never sounded so beautiful. He pulls back to look at her, his gaze dark with lust, and she looks up at her, hers twinkling.
"What?"
"Say it again...my name, say it again…"
"Draco…"
He kisses the valley between her breasts.
"Again."
"Draco…"
He kisses her throat.
Again…"
"Draco."
He kisses her chin and then her ear, taking her earlobe between his teeth softly before kissing her lips again.
"Again…"
"Draco…"
He enters her then, slowly and softly. She gasps as he fills her and he groans low in his throat, drilling within her as he dips his head into the crook of her neck to catch his breath. She's so warm and so tight and it feels soso good, so good that he thinks he might faint.
"Draco…please..."
He nods as he begins to move, thrusting in and out slowly, listening to her moans of approval. Her hips thrust upwards to meet him, setting a rhythm.
"Hermi…"
His voice trails off in the middle of her name, unable to finish as his thrusts get faster and faster.
"Hard-er…"
He does as he's told, moving harder and father. She meets him thrust for thrust, moaning and groaning and screaming. Faster and deeper and desperate. He's desperate. Desperate to feel her. He feels her shudder and squirm with ecstasy beneath him as she comes undone with a call of his name. He follows shortly after, stilling within her as he comes undone, his forehead pressed against her collarbone.
"Hermione…"
Still inside her, he slips his arms between hers, curling them under her shoulders with his palms down on the mattress under her pillow as he collapses on top of her. Her arms come up around his shoulders, holding him there, as she plays with the hair on the back of his head. he wonders if he's crushing her and so he tries to roll off of her but she doesn't let him.
"I'm gonna crush you Granger…"
"I don't care."
He pulls back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes. She's exhausted, completely spent like him, and even in the dark her eyes are shining. "You're beautiful."
"You've already shagged me Malfoy, there's no need to compliment me."
He chuckles softly. "But you are. So beautiful."
What he doesn't tell her, as he leans in to kiss her softly on the lips, is that he's more attracted to beauty that inside of her than the beauty that is skin deep.
Thanks for reading. Reviews are always welcome :)