A/n: Hello everyone! I know it's been a while but I'm surprised I managed to write a chapter at all with all the work I have to do. for some reason my account wouldnt let me update. ive had this ready for weeks!
Neither of the people who offered to beta got back in touch with me – so I suppose I'll have to do without. Which is absolutely fine! I hope everyone reviews!
This chapter has SEXUAL CONTENT IN IT at the very end (which is why it's so long). I decided not to make it so explicit because it's their first time and I'm not sure if you guys want to read that kind of stuff. So let me know which way I should go with this!
Thank you to: Lilac9109, Kabij, Sabercat7, and Jade2099 for reviewing.
Thank you to anyone who's been keeping up in general. I really wish you would review!
On to the chapter.
Chapter 17: Candleburn
Hermione:
February rolled in, and so did March, then eventually April. Looking back, those days really feel like a blur. I can hardly remember any of it. Well, that's not entirely true. I remember enough for it still to make me blush.
After three weeks of torture and pain, I was still tired from the ordeal. Re-growing the skin of your entire torso, battling off evil potions and bone shattering pain really brings a girl down, you know? But when the healers declared me healed, Draco and I had as much of a celebratory dinner as our tired bodies would allow us, and promptly took a transnational portkey back to New York.
Actually, if I remember correctly, it was more like ordering in muggle Chinese take-out, which we ate on the couch. On closer inspection, I didn't even eat much, falling asleep instead on the couch in Draco's arms. It was the best moment I'd had in weeks – Draco properly holding me, not afraid to give me my favourite crushing hug.
Of course, vacation doesn't last forever.
For me, this meant returning to my dreary ministry job where I was, again, treating like a revered celebrity. For Draco, this mean returning to his multi-billion dollar/galleon (depending on what you were speaking of, of course) corporations and various industries, as well as continuing to write his latest book. Unfortunately, the book was a top secret subject. He would not budge, much to my dismay.
/
It was late one night in March, probably well past two on a Saturday when I woke up suddenly to find Draco absent from bed. This was a childhood habit, waking up at all hours of the night. When Draco had made himself a permanent fixture in my life, I'd roll over and comforted myself with his peaceful presence.
Lately, though, I found myself awakening more often in an empty bed. It was as if the man didn't sleep.
I rolled out of bed, aware I looked absolutely dishevelled and walked out of my bedroom. He had left the door open, most likely to be able to see my sleeping form from his position in the living room, whenever he glanced up.
He must have heard me stumble out of bed and into the living room, but he didn't glance up – giving me the opportunity of surveying him uninterrupted for a moment or two. My eyes were met with a picture of clear perfection, one I'd remember for the rest of my life. Draco Malfoy, surrounded by spare sheets of paper with his elegant writing scrawled all over the place, a pen tucked behind his ear and his grey eyes focused on the screen of his macbook. He was chewing his lip in concentration.
Watching Draco Malfoy work with muggle objects as if it were the most commonplace thing in the world was... hot. There is no other word for it.
Eventually, he must have realized I was staring at him for he looked up and smiled. That, in itself, made me gush. As far as I was aware, I was the only person, besides Dobby (occasionally, when the elf wasn't making a nuisance of himself), that he actually smiled at. Sure, he smirked at a lot of people, but never smiled.
"Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, turning back to his work when I shook my head no. I made my way to the kitchen, filled myself a glass of water and sipped slowly, still watching him. "I wasn't being loud, earlier, was I?"
He glanced back up at me and I suppose my confused expression was enough of an answer for him. "Good," he smiled, again.
"Are you working on your book?"
"No, just some documents for the board meeting –" but I'd already jumped into his lap before he could finish, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair. " – tomorrow. My, my, kitty. You're affectionate tonight."
"I'm always affectionate," I argued, a little muffled from my place against his neck. "You just don't see it when you're pushing me away to protect your precious book."
He laughed, "Don't be resentful now." I just grumbled and continued to laugh. At my expense, mind you!
"When exactly are you going to tell me the bare minimum? At the very least?" I pouted hoping that would move my case along faster.
"Hmm..." It was always the same response. Never a straight answer, only a HMM! "I'll tell you when I know where it's going, alright?"
"You've said that eight times already, though.." I didn't understand why he was so reluctant to tell me even a basic plot line. That's all I was asking for. This man was a genius writer... maybe he didn't understand or something, but he was addicting! And I'd gone without my fix for too long. "Do you not trust me, or something?"
He looked stumped at that question. "This has nothing to do with trust, Hermione."
"Sure it does. You think I'll tell everyone about your stupid little book, and really –" I moved out of his lap and out of his grasp. "I just want to know because you're a really good writer. And I've loved your books before even knowing it was your ferret arse who was writing them, so –" I jumped out of his reach and walked back to bed, flopping myself down ungracefully. "You can have it your way. I won't tell you about all the gossip at work anymore. You can find yourself a new spy!"
He walked over to the edge of the bed and I caught his conflicted look before I turned away from him, facing the window. "Hermione...come on."
I remained silent. "Hermione!"
I smiled inwardly to myself, thankful that he couldn't see me. I'd just managed to compose myself when he roughly turned me over himself. "Hermione Granger, answer me or so help me Merlin I will..." I glanced at him waiting for him to continue his threat. This was always amusing.
"Or what?" I goaded.
"Why you little witch, I'll...I'll..." I laughed at him and he suddenly got an evil glint in his eye. The monster began to tickle me.
After a few minutes, when I felt I would've wet myself if he didn't stop, he finally relented and let me go, only to gather me back into his arms again. Spelling the lights shut, we lay like that in silence for awhile, letting our hearts calm and our breathing catch up with our bodies.
"It's called Apathy," he said suddenly.
"What is?"
"My book. It's called Apathy, Love for the Broken."
"That's an interesting name... what's it about?" I looked over my shoulder and into his eyes. They looked conflicted. I almost regretted taking advantage of him, forcing him to divulge things to me. Almost. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if gathering himself and his thoughts.
"We shall see," he finally said. And that's all I could get out of him for a long, long while.
Draco:
It began as a timid question, once, while I was hunched over some papers spread out over the coffee table. I hadn't heard her the first time. She did have the tendency to mumble when she thought I'd say no to what she thought was the most brilliant idea of the hour.
I certainly did enjoy surprising her every so often by saying yes. Her features would light up and I'd feel like that silly icon muggles have. The one with the cape and foolish disguise. Superman is his name! Can no one else realize that it's only a matter of glasses hiding his identity?
"My parents are visiting New York and they want to see you," she said quickly, practically in one breath.
And then there were situations like these where I had to put my foot down and say no. Or try to at least in principle. "Well... why don't you just go see them?" I said, looking at her apprehensively. "I'm...kind of... busy?" She looked at me sceptically and I gestured to my papers as if they'd somehow stand up and defend me.
Fat chance. I'm an unlucky bastard.
"Obviously I've been spending time with them. Where did you think I was last night?" She stood there haughtily with her hands poised on her hips and I knew I was done for.
"I thought... Zara?" I questioned weakly.
She raised an eyebrow and I just shook my head, vigorously, hoping she'd get the point and stop harassing me. That wasn't to be so, obviously. "You're coming," she said to me, looking over her shoulder while she sauntered off to our room to throw on a sweater over her shirt. "Got it, Malfoy?"
"No way in Hell am I going!" I shouted back to her, watching her bend over a pile of laundy to find whatever it was she was looking for. I stared. Couldn't help it... I had to admire the shape of her back and – quickly look back to my work before she could catch me.
"Well... too bad you don't get a say, then, love!" She pecked my cheek and walked to the door. "And don't try getting out of it, either! I will drag you there by your ear if I have to!" And before I could respond, the apartment door slammed into place behind her retreating form.
Sighing, I buried my head into my arms.
I just don't do the parent thing. I barely knew how to. Most of my life I'd been introduced to my girlfriends/lovers' parents through my own parents at non-confrontational dinner parties and formal occasions. Where they couldn't kill me without repercussion. Or make inappropriate conversation! Say, for example, are you sleeping with my daughter, by any chance? Those situations were more like negotiations. Marriage options. And besides, these people were muggles. They'd throw me.
I was so, so screwed.
/
Hermione had chosen a high class muggle restaurant so her parents and I could both feel comfortable. I personally would have been more comfortable at home, in my boxers. Watching the telly. The restaurant was well known to the both of us. We'd come here before, sat at the bar and made fun of the monstrosity that they call the youth of today.
Unfortunately, I'd had to forsake television and trek all the way to the trendy muggle sector of New York, right after work. In retrospect, I fin in quite neatly. Rich business man winding down with a few drinks after a stressful day at work. Essentially.
I couldn't make myself go in for the longest time, choosing instead to pace in front of the building. How had I gotten myself into such a situation? I was going to have to convince these people I wasn't trying to kill their daughter. Or for that matter, that I wasn't a Death Eater. Or a blood supremacist...bigamist... the list could have gone on but I'd already worked myself up into such a frenzy by this point that I was ready to walk home without even trying.
Screw Hermione and her wrath. I could deal with it!
I'd have to tell them I loved her and that they'd never get her back from my clutches. But if I didn't show up, they'd think I didn't want her. And that certainly is not something I can have. Right...?
So I managed to make myself enter the building. I walked in on an older couple being treated like homeless street urchin being driven away from clean public space by the hostess. She was the bubbly blonde "I never passed high school" type of girl. The kind with a voice that grates at you.
"What do you mean you cannot take us to our seats?" The older gentleman asked her as if she were dense. Which, judging by her behaviour, appearance and attitude, I completely agreed with the fellow. "Our names are on the reservation list-" He leaned over to point at a name on the list.
But the woman had the audacity to cut him off. "We here at Babbo have had the experience of individuals, such as yourselves, take the place of other people's reservations in order to meet celebrities. So I suggest, you," she stopped, glancing down at his unremarkable attire. "And Ms. Whatever here, to go back to your little lives-"
And it was at this point where I'd heard enough from the impertinent little twat. Sure, they were rather...plain, middle class looking. But respect, especially for your superiors was an absolute necessity. Maybe it was the sad look in the older woman's eyes that I couldn't take. She really did have familiar eyes.
"Excuse me, Ms...who exactly are you?" I stepped in before the old man could try to explain his case to her obviously stuffed ears.
"I'm-"
"A very impertinent young lady. Call your manager, immediately. I'd like to see what he has to say about the..." I glanced at her in distaste, slowly staring down at her with practiced Malfoy superiority. "Help being rude to honest, hard-working paying customers."
"But sir-"
"Did I not make myself clear? You've already had your chance to be helpful and clearly failed miserably, hasn't she, ma'am?" I asked the lady, smiling politely. She smiled gratefully back. Yes, that smile was also familiar. "Go on, get Andrew. He and I have a lot of catching up to do about how this establishment is run."
She hurried away. Ah...sweet victory!
"That was very kind of you," the man said to me once the hostess had left. "Do you work here?" He looked rather respectable, not glamorous, but no reason to be treated in such a fashion. The nerve of some people.
"No," I responded, inclining my head. "The owner and I are just very good friends, you see." That wasn't exactly true, per say. I certainly did business with the man, though. He was a stock holder in one of my companies. "The manager is his brother. Here they come now," I said to them as I spotted the disgusting creature bringing Andrew to us. He looked perhaps even more worried than she was.
Before they could reach us, we heard a very loud Hermione Granger calling to us. "Mum! Dad! Sorry I'm late...oh good, you've met Draco, already. How nice!" She smiled at me and I did a double take.
Mum? DAD? What the fuck had I gotten myself in to? I tried not to show my panic. Mr and Mrs Granger as I now know them were a little bit more tactful and said hello to their daughter.
When she spotted the manager who was staring at the lot of us incredulity she looked over at me. "What's going on? What did I miss?"
No one said anything for a long moment. All eyes were on me, so I decided it was time to man up and get over with it. "Well...I was just about to explain to Andrew here how his incompetent waitress was being so outrageously rude to my guests!" I turned and looked at Andrew expectantly.
"It's been taken care of, sir," he said, trying not to look at the hostess who had unceremoniously burst into tears. "Please, let Ian take your coats and I will show you to your seats myself." I nodded to him, while helping Hermione out of her coat, handing it to a boy waiting for it at my side.
"Please, don't let this incident be a damper on your evening," I told the Grangers. Hermione caught my eye and smirked. "They're usually more selective with their employees here." I actually had no idea what their hiring practices were, but it was time to lay it on thick.
Hermione had gone over to her father, kissed him on the cheek and fondly took his arm. I took the opportunity, it was right there in front of me! I can't be blamed for overdoing it.
"Allow me to escort you, Mrs. Granger," I said, taking her arm in mine graciously. I guess learning the pureblood mannerisms were certainly useful after all.
As we were being led over to our table, I could hear Mr. Granger distinctly say to Hermione, "You've certainly found a gentleman, love." And my smirk only grew.
Maybe I was a lucky man after all.
Hermione:
Returning to the ministry where my useless job had only gotten more useless in my absence brought me absolutely no joy. I really tried, honestly, I did. I tried to make myself useful, but nothing would work. Not with these mindless subordinates!
Word had spread of my "unfortunate injury while on vacation with the godly Sebastian Dominque (A.K.A Draco fucking Malfoy)" and now I was being treated as if I were an invalid. I assure you, robots. I can pick up a stack of goddamn papers on my own thank you very much! And no. I will not put in a good word for you to the boss.
The only reason I still went to work was because living with Draco made me feel inadequate. Hell, it would make anyone feel inadequate, especially me, Hermione Granger. Once upon a time I used to be the efficient know-it-all brat that was through every little assignment the minute it was assigned, thoroughly informed about all subjects by extra reading and of course, top of the class. Hogwarts princess? Checkmark. Brightest witch of our age? Why the hell not.
Now I'm just useless in comparison to the almighty Malfoy.
But now that I look back to our sixth year, Draco had been taking just as many classes as I had. He had kept up his grades to all Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations, while also working with the impossible task of getting Death Eaters into the impenetrable fortress of Hogwarts simultaneously dealing with the possible threat of his parents getting killed if he failed. And the boy had managed the impossible hadn't he? All while keeping his grades up!
Well bugger it all, he hasn't changed a bit. Only now, he's running several wizard and muggle corporations without a hitch, taking his place on the American Judicial Court (The American equivalent to the Wizegmont), writing a book but still finding time to sit in front of the telly for two hours every week day from 7-9 without fail.
And here I am, wasting my life doing NOTHING! Sometimes I hate you Draco Malfoy, sometimes I really do.
It was a rainy Wednesday and I had just made my way home through the downpour. I had stopped to visit my parents after work and that had considerably improved my shitty mood. When I opened the door, I found all the lights in the apartment turned off a Crookshanks curled up in Draco's spot on the couch. It was barely past 8 in the evening, I was sure House was playing and Draco never missed that.
Curious, I thought. Maybe he went out for a drink? Maybe he's still at work...
At least, that was my assumption when I started stripping on my way to the bedroom to change in to my PJ's. The door was slightly ajar. When I kicked it open, halfway through throwing my blouse and skirt onto the floor, I found him sprawled in bed, barely dressed.
When I say barely dressed, I mean he was wearing obscenely loose fitting green and silver boxers that left nothing to the imagination. He had his arms folded behind his head, his legs stretched deliciously over the sheets I'd just changed that morning. He was watching the rain patter against the window, his lips slightly parted...as if deep in thought.
I couldn't help it. I shivered.
"It's very cleansing, isn't it? The rain." He looked up at me and smiled his angelic smile. "As if its washing away your sins..." he trailed off. I wondered what he was thinking about. But I just nodded, dumbly, too enthralled with the picture for much else. He was never like...this. Whatever this might be.
He patted the spot next to him on the bed and I just followed the instruction subconsciously, unaware of what I was doing until I felt him tangle his limbs with mine, pressing his nose into the crook of my neck. "What happened to your clothes?" I heard his muffled murmur, while he rubbed his thumb right above the band of my completely unappealing cotton underwear. Where did I put the lingere Lavender had bought me for my last birthday?
"Where did yours go?"
He chuckled. "I took them off, obviously."
And then he kissed me.
It wasn't like any of the other times he had kissed me – sweet, soft, loving... No. This was needy. As if he needed to crawl into me, right under my skin, into my heart and brain. So deep that he couldn't get out even if he tried. Even if he wanted to. I couldn't breathe, hell, I couldn't think. I need- I wanted... no I have to do something!
And then suddenly, it was over just as soon as it had begun. He was poised above me. How he had gotten that way I don't know. We were both panting heavily, his breath fanning over my face like sweet peppermint.
I inhaled deeply, breathing him in, smiling.
He just remained there over me, motionless. Staring... analyzing me, critically. Then I realized after a moment, he was waiting.
For me to say yes.
I bit my lip, deciding how to tell the idiot not to stop when he started pulling away, thinking my hesitation was probably a sign of a big no. I snagged him back, pulling him to me with my legs around his waist. I kissed him again, hoping this would be message enough.
It was. He finally pressed against me fully and I could feel the length of him through his silk boxers. Damn. I suppose the rumours about him at school were true.
Draco Malfoy is indeed, well endowed.
When the very few scraps of clothing came off, my heart skipped a beat hoping he'd like what he'd see. But it was stupid to worry. All he did was inhale sharply, mutter a very affected "beautiful" and lean down to kiss me again.
The first time was quick, hot and sloppy. I think the both of us were making up for the lost time, for not enough closeness... for friction. He made me orgasm three times before he himself finished, panting and dropped in a heap over me.
His head was pillowed on my chest and his arms still loosely holding me. I cradled his head in my arms playing with his silky hair or stroking the smooth skin of his face and neck. His breathing eventually evening out and the both of us just lay there, listening to the soft noise of the rain. True to male nature, he eventually pulled me in his arms and fell soundly asleep.
The rumors at school had been true. Draco Malfoy is a bloody good shag.