Disclaimer: Why is Dramione so utterly sexy? I own nothing but the plot.
Ch. 42
"Hermione, are you still up there? Goodness, we're all waiting!" Mrs. Granger called up the stairs, as Mr. Granger and I waited downstairs in the sitting room that led into the hallways. There was a faint noise that was meant to be a response from Hermione, and her mother crossed her arms, something I could easily see her daughter doing at that moment. The similarities between the two, and her parents in general, were uncanny. Mrs. Granger clucked her tongue in disapprovement.
"She's not usually like this," She stated, and I smirked.
"Not to worry, I'm sure she'll be down soon."
Mr. Granger and I sat on the couch while we waited for Hermione to arrive downstairs. It was awfully quiet, and we had only said a few words to each other, so I couldn't help but feel awkward. I wanted Granger to just sod whatever she was doing and get her stubborn arse down here already! In silent resentment at her lateness, I began to play with the silver cufflinks on my suit. It was the suit I'd bought that day at the mall. Hermione had insisted that I wear it the moment her parents had told us that we were being taken out.
Yes, her parents were taking us out to dinner.
Hermione was terribly excited. Apparently it was the most exclusive Italian restaurant in all of London. Capri, she'd told me was its name. It was nice of them to do this, but if I had to be honest, I wouldn't have minded a nice home cooked meal by Mrs. Granger and another night under the stars with Hermione. In a way, I felt guilty. Before I'd gotten here, Hermione had already warned her parents on what I was accustomed to – fancy restaurants, the best clothing, everything a Malfoy held near and dear to the heart. Fact was, I didn't care. The Granger's made me feel welcome, and their home was ridiculously nice. It was large yet simple, and almost adorably homey. I supposed they were doing this to make me see that Muggles could –
"Sorry, sorry I'm late!" I heard Hermione's voice exclaim, and as I looked up, my heart lodged in my throat.
Hurrying down the stairs, Hermione was a vision in red. Her curls lay loose and tamed against her shoulders, and as she rushed down, they flew behind her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Granger smile as I rose from my spot to greet Hermione. Immeadiatley, Mr. Granger left to start the car.
"What did I miss?" Hermione asked breathlessly, looking at me with imploring eyes. Her breath was heightened, making her chest rise with each intake of air. The more I looked at her, the more difficult I found it to retain oxygen in the room. She was wearing the red dress that she had tried on at that store, and if it had looked good then, it looked absolutely wonderful on her now. In all of her simplicity, with her wide eyes and rosy lips, she looked...radiant. Apparently I hadn't answered her in time – I couldn't recall, but pretty soon she was calling for my attention.
"Draco?" Hermione murmured with quizzical eyes. "What's wrong?"
Immediately, her hands went to smooth down her dress self conciously, and her bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth. I couldn't restrain myself from grabbing her wrist.
"Don't." I assured her, and that was all I had to say before she was herself again. She smiled, and her eyes sparkled, and I had the strangest urge to cradle her face against my fingers. How had I not seen it before...
There was a sharp beep from outside the house and I instantly jerked my head towards the door. Mrs. Granger smiled before beckoning us over to grab our coats.
"You both look lovely." Jean smiled, who looked stunning herself. With a peck on her daughter's head, we entered the frigid cold, and quickly made our way into the car.
VVVVV
The ride over was peaceful, if anything. It was also rather soothing in a strange way. As Draco answered the casual questions that had turned into a slight conversation with my parents, I rested my head against the seat and faced the window. Something very close to excitement bubbled within my stomach, and I smiled lightly as I watched cars pass us on the road. It was just so comfortable here, and the normality of having Draco in my car along with my parents relaxed me to the point of which I was surprised. I turned my head to gaze at him from underneath my eyelashes.
He paid me no attention, as he was too busy answering all of my mother's questions about how he was enjoying his stay, but I didn't mind. I simply watch him speak – the way he smiled graciously at my mother, and the way his mouth moved when he formed certain words. Lamplights brought different areas of his face to light as we passed them, and it was interesting to see how they bounced off of his features, making his skin and hair look angelic and glowing in the artificialty of it all.
Somehow while watching him, my fingers had ended up in his. I hadn't realized until he'd squeezed my hand lightly, almost fragilely.
VVVVV
As we pulled up to the restaurant, I tensed.
Did I know why?
Not at all.
Hermione was all smiles as she reached to her side to undo her seatbelt, and I paused for a moment to watch her. She noticed, and the edges of her lips came to curve upward in a slight quirk.
"Need help?" Hermione asked me, her eyes lowering to the belt that was still resting firmly against my abdomen. I cleared my throat and turned, so that she wouldn't see my fingers clumsily unclasping the belt.
"Don't be ridiculous." I responded, scoffing and getting out of the car. Hermione had been about to say something in dull response – I could see the words starting to form against her lips, but as soon as my hand reached out to assist her from the car, her eyes softened.
Hermione grabbed my hand, the flesh of her palm soft against mine, and smirked slightly. "And when did you become such a gentleman, Malfoy? If I didn't know any better, I would expect you to be getting ready to push me into a mud puddle."
A grin that resembled a smirk more than anything spread across my face as we walked into the glimmering restaurant. "Not now, Granger, we're in public. I'm saving that for later."
Even better than the feeling whilst saying that, was the feeling that I got when I heard Hermione choke in shock beside me.
VVVVV
As we waited for a waiter to come take our orders, my eyes glanced lazily around the room as Hermione told her parents stories about our year so far at Hogwarts. I had never been inside a Muggle restaurant before – mother would probably keel over in shock and father would've probably spit in my face if he'd known I was here – but nontheless, it was quite nice. It was fancy, that was for sure, classy and refined while modern and aged all at the same time. The large airy spaces were bathed in warm, bright glows of light, and the tables were placed by large, long, rectangular mirrors that made the streets seem longer and larger in the light. Soft, billowy curtains parted to show the view outside, and from our table we could see the busy roads of london and a few classic landmark buildings. Not as if I knew exactly where the hell we were. Hermione and her parents had called it downton London, and I had left it at that.
Now that I thought of it, the Muggle restaurant reminded me in some ways of a magical restaurant I had once visited with my parents when I was younger. I couldn't recall the name of it for the life of me, not like I cared, but there were a few things here and there that reminded me of it. The chandelier was nearly identical, large and sparkling with crystals, while lampshade like lights hung over the tables respectively. Suddenly, I was brought back to my time in the Pureblooded restaurant, wincing at the memory of my father twisting my wrist violently under the round table where no one could see, when I had failed to greet one of his buisiness partners properly. I had had a bracelet shaped bruise there for days after that.
Apparently I had been too absorbed in the memory to notice Hermione tapping my shoulder.
"Draco?" She asked, and at her second tap I flinched. Hermione smiled slightly, not bothering to question it. "What are you ordering?"
I took the moment to notice a snarky looking waiter standing over me, pencil poised over a fancy looking notepad as he waited. With a small glare at the man, I turned to Hermione and shrugged.
"Whatever you're having," I muttered, not in the mood to look at the menu. The memory of my father still felt like a ten pound bag of sand in my chest.
"Brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, and it was all I heard, for I had already zoned out again while she ordered. Somehow, I felt incredibly rude, although I was probably the only one who noticed it. With a shaky hand, I reached for my water goblet. With little conversation, Hermione was too busy chatting animatedly with her parents about school, I stayed that way until the food arrived, unbearably conscious of Hermione's soft leg rubbing against mine under the table everytime she moved.
VVVVV
"So, Draco," Mr. Granger addressed me from across the square dining table, "How have you been doing in your classes at Hogwarts? Not better than our Hermione I hope," he chuckled, and the whole table joined him. I looked over to see Hermione biting her lip with a small smile.
"Quite well, Mr. Granger. And much to your surprise, I'm practically up there with Hermione in grades."
Hermione spluttered over her food and I smugly turned back to playing with the neck of the water glass in front of me. She could try and ignore it as much as she wanted to, but in the end it was true. Hermione held first place as the smartest student in all of Hogwarts, and I not so begrudingly (anymore), held the second.
Mrs. Granger smiled warmly at me. "Is that so?"
I smirked. "Well, yes. Obviously, I best Hermione in Potions and Defense Against The Dark Arts, no matter what she might claim. We also rival each other in Charms -"
"But I'm better than you at Ancient Runes and Herbology." Hermione quipped, giggling over her glass. I sneered.
"Yes, but who cares about those two classes besides you?" Hermione shrugged and rolled her eyes at her mother, who in turn gazed warmly at the two of us.
"Such a pair, you two are. Is it always like this?" She asked, and I found myself shrugging.
"Yes." Hermione said curtly, before sticking her tongue out at me. Had the waiter slipped something in her water? She seemed so bubbly and...content.
Mr. Granger cleared his throat before adding, "No surpise there."
Suddenly, there was silence at the table of four. Mrs. Granger still had remnants of a bemused smile on her face, while her husband looked incredibly stony. There was silence for a moment, and all I could hear was the buzz of clinking glasses and the scrapes of forks against china in the room.
"I'm sorry, Sir?" I asked cautiously. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hermione's head duck down for a moment. Mr. Granger regarded me with a cool gaze, as if waiting for my emotions to bubble over. He cleared his throat again.
"I mean it's no surprise to hear that you and my daughter bicker over everything, given your...history."
"Dad." Hermione hissed quietly, looking at him in disbelief. My throat closed and my hands went clammy underneath the table. How had I not expected this to come up...
"Mr. Granger..."
"No need to apologize. It comes as no surprise to me."
Mrs. Granger muttered something to her husband before shooting me an apologetic look, but it was too late. I could already feel the anger starting to rise in my chest, ripping and roaring away at my insides. I tried my best to look unfazed, but as I looked at the man, I couldn't help but fix him with a steely gaze.
"And why exactly, would that be?" I challenged. Hadn't he realized that I had been trying to make up for my past fuck-ups this whole time?
Mr. Granger chuckled almost discreetly. "I think you know why, Mr. Malfoy. It takes a person themselves to discover their true character, to admit that old habits die hard. You might have completely fazed my daughter into thinking –"
"Brian, enough, don't cause a scene!" Mrs. Granger murmured, looking over at her daughter's now glazed eyes.
"No, Mrs. Granger, he's right," I said calmly, trying to keep my anger at a natural level. I felt so embarrassed, and I hated it. I despised it, just as I despised being vulnerable. "Old habits do die hard, Mr. Granger. I'm not going to sit here and act like I don't know what you're insinuating. I've thought about my actions more times than I can count. I regret what I did to your daughter, and I've apologized. She's fully accepted my apology –"
"You can't tell me that! Why in her right mind would she be able to fully forgive you? You think that she's erased all previous memories of you? All the name calling, all the hurtful gestures towards her? Well I can tell you right now that she won't, and that she can't. Don't you dare act like one apology has changed my opinion about you, because I'll tell you something Mr. Malfoy, you weren't the one who had to hold her sobbing form whenever she'd come home from school." Mr. Granger said harshly, and to restrain myself from whipping my wand out on him, I clenched my hands against the table, my fork and knife long forgotten on my plate. How could this be happening, right here, right now?
I couldn't bear to look at Hermione. I could practically feel the sadness and disbeleif coming from her in waves.
"That may be true, Sir. I can't expect Hermione to diminsh her previous thoughts of me – I wouldn't want her to. But what I can say is that your daughter is an extremely brilliant witch that I'm proud to call one of my closest friends. I trust her unconditionally, whether she may realize it or not. For you to question that, questions everything that Hermione has helped me become – a better person. And with all due respect, Sir, I will stop at nothing to show your daughter how much I appreciate that. I also appreciate her mind, as you do, and so I think that before you assume things, you should let her tell you herself."
The world seemed to spin as I croaked to a close. There were so many things I wanted to say at the moment, but I couldn't seem to find any adequate words. What had managed to spew out of my mouth had been incredibly messy, but most of all, true to the very last syllable. I wasn't upset that this man, Hermione's father, judged me. It was fair of him to. I had demons, and some of them had taken a long time to leash up. What made me upset was that he had spoken for her. Hermione could speak for herself. She could watch out for herself. She wasn't a little girl, and she certainly didn't need to be openly mocked for her choices and her descisions regarding her friends! I wouldn't allow it!
There was an outburst of a clatter and a large, piercing creak, and suddenly, Hermione was out of her seat. She stood, rigid, her fists at her side, hidden between tufts of the soft fabric of her dress. I looked at her from underneath my underneath my lashes, and from what I could see, anger and abhorrence covered her face like a mask. Tears glossed over her eyes, and her lip quivered, more out of anger than sadness I was sure.
Hermione...
Not one word was spoken before Hermione could be stopped from storming out of the restaurant. I didn't watch her leave. I couldn't.
There were alot of things I could've done at that moment. For one, I could've apologized to her parents. I could've asked her father to forgive my outburst and begged her wonderful mother to look this over. Secondly, I could've done the one thing my heart was craving and chase Hermione out of the restaurant.
I looked up after some time, taking in her parents visages. Mr. Granger looked like he was struggling internally but was still rather stony-faced, while Mrs. Granger looked apologetic, shocked, and embarrassed. If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought her eyes looked oddly glassy...
I chose the latter.
"Excuse me," I muttered bluntly, and before anyone could object, I went after the girl that stood for everything I had turned into.
VVVVV
I didn't know how I had gotten out of there so fast, but as soon as I had exited the restaurant, cold air had enveloped me into a frosty hug, and a chill had settled into my now free lungs.
I had disapparated.
Sloppily, nonethless, due to the tears streaming down my face. As soon as I'd found an abandoned alleyway, I had disappeared, leaving Draco behind. With my parents.
With my father.
I was so embarrassed. Ashamed. Furious. I had trusted my father to keep my former feelings about Draco a secret, and he had just laid it out on the table for everyone to see. Draco had always thought that his comments had never really hurt me, that they had never truly burned my soul, but they had, and he didn't know but he had apologized anyways. My brain felt muddled. I didn't know what to think.
I didn't know what to do.
I wanted to tear at my clothing, at the walls, at everything. I wanted to rip my very soul apart, to smash things and watch them clatter to the ground in broken fragments.
The house was dark as I entered it, and I didn't bother to turn on the lights. Instead I bounded up the stairs, stopping halfway up the staircase. What had I done? Why had I left him? How had I let this happen?
As if I would've been able to stay. My father, the man I'd trusted to keep his opinions about Draco quiet, had betrayed me, and I felt an odd hate for him.
But then Draco had stepped in, trying to save the day in a valiant attempt. My father didn't understand, did he? He didn't understand how I'd managed to care for the boy who had tormented me.
Change, that's what it was all about. Draco had changed, he was getting there, and whether my father saw it or not, I did –
Something in the dark house creaked, and I whipped out my wand, startled. The house remained still, as quiet as a mouse except for my startled breaths.
"Lumos," a familiar voice murmured, and a soft burst of light emitted from the left of the living room. My heart twinged uncomfortably as I saw his face. Lit up by the faint glow of light, Draco looked more handsome than ever.
"You know," he said, his voice oddly blank,"You really shouldn't leave the door unlocked."
My heartbeat increased as a broken half smile graced his face. It didn't reach his eyes. What could I possibly say?
"Draco, I -"
"Don't," Draco said harshly, and I cringed in fear. A few more tears leaked out of my eyes, creating a warm path down my cheek as he ascended through the room and made his way towards me. His footfalls were soft against the carpet. He was closer to me now, and he leaned against the bottom of the stairs. He didn't come up, almost as if he were afraid to approach me. Draco smiled, more to himself than me.
"You know, Blaise once told me that there were certain things that were obvious to other's than myself. I didn't understand it then." Draco shrugged as he put his hands in his pockets.
"And now?" I croaked softly from the top of the stairs.
VVVVV
"I understand completely." I spoke smoothly. I laughed, and it sounded short and bitter. Perhaps it was for myself more than her. I sobered and stared at the girl at the top of the stairs. Hermione looked nearly dillusional, staring at me in confusion. Her hair was mussed slightly, and I presumed it was from her disapparation. And her lips, red and swollen just like her eyes. How had that happened?
"I'm sorry." I said aloud, and she was so quiet it was as if I was talking to myself. "I'm sorry for the way I acted. I was a git to your father and –"
"And he deserved it." Hermione interrupted harshly, her fingernails digging into the wooden rail of the staircase. "He didn't give you a chance to explain yourself." Her voice wavered. "And -"
"Well can you blame him, Hermione?" I yelled, becoming aggravated. "I was a fucking git to you! For years! And I'm not going to let you pretend I wasn't! Your father was right! No matter what I do, what I say, that image of me will always be imprinted in your head!"
"That's not true. That's not true, Draco, I l-"
"DON'T!" I spat, feeling my emotion boiling rapidly underneath my skin."Your father cares for you! I was wrong, as I always am! I'm no good for you, and your father knocked me out of the fucking fairytale world I was living in with you! I don't belong here! I don't belong with you! I don't belong in a place where people LOVE each other!" I yelled.
Tears pricked my eyes and it stung. I didn't know what or who to be mad at – Hermione, her father, my father, or myself.
All of them. I was mad at all of them.
Scratch that, I was fucking enraged. How dare Hermione try to show me that I could care, that I mattered, how dare her father show me that it could all crumble at the flick of my wrist, how dare my father degrade me, how dare I be so stupid and actually try and show someone they mattered? How dare I let my emotions get the best of me?
How dare I be vulnerable. How dare I let someone in.
A memory flashed before my eyes for the second time that night before I could stop it. My father stood above my crumpled form that rested bloodied and bruised on the floor of his large study.
"You are no son of mine," Lucius spat.
No, father. Perhaps I wasn't.
Hermione paused, her breath faltering with each rise and fall of her chest. A dark looked passed her eyes, and before I could object, she spoke, her voice as strong as I had ever heard it.
"You're wrong. As much as you try to say that this is your fault, your undoing? We share everything, we have ever since that night in the bathroom on the seventh floor –"
"That's a lie," I spat harshly. A part of me wanted to resort back to my old ways, but an even larger part of me wanted to hold that segment of myself down and never allow it to become free. I gazed up at Hermione from her perch at the top of the stairs. "You have no idea how I'm feeling."
Hermione laughed, and her voice sounded dead in my ears.
"Like your world is falling apart. Like all of the structure that you've built around yourself is crumbling –"
"Shut up, you filthy–" I struggled, biting the inside of my mouth so hard that I tasted blood. My hands shook and a sliver of sweat trailed down my neck and onto my back. I wouldn't say it, I couldn't. If I did, then her father was right. I hadn't changed. I had never raised my voice at her, even in all the years I had actually hated her. So why in Salazar's name couldn't I control it now? My eyes found Hermione's, and to my surprise, she didn't look hurt. She looked sad, delicate, but not hurt.
I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to lo –
Fuck, I didn't even know what I wanted.
With a few quick strides, I was standing before her, my body inches away from brushing against hers. Hermione's eyes stayed glued to mine as I advanced on her. A flicker of doubt flashed through her eyes before settling into a questioning gaze, challenging me. My actions.
Before I could restrain myself, a trembling hand came to rest against her face, cradling her cheek in my palm. The warmth from the contact hummed within the space between my fingers, and I let out a harsh, broken sigh. I watched her for a moment, the way her eyes scoured mine for a hint of what I would do next, the way her makeup ran down her cheeks in a light, nearly translucent film. Hermione's eyes bore into mine, grey reflecting into warm, chocolate brown.
"What are you doing?" She whispered incredulously, her eyes searching mine.
I kissed her, roughly, possessively, wantonly. It didn't take but less than a second for Hermione's lids to flutter close and brush against my face, a broken noise flooding into me via her mouth. I gripped her waist, hugging her against me as she opened her lips for better access to her mouth. A hand flew up to my hair and tugged. I attacked her mouth with all of the confusion, anger, and lust that I felt, kissing her so hard that it hurt my lips. Hermione's enthusiasm met mine in level but not in roughness. Her kisses were firm yet gentle, but I didn't take them lightly, instead opting to respond by roughly lifting her and setting her on the rail of the stairs. It was then I became evident of the hardness between my legs, the twisting in my stomach, and the lack of oxygen in my lungs.
I pulled away for a moment, regaining my sight and my breath, panting. Blind hands searched Hermione's body, for what, I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't care. All that mattered was that I was drowning in Hermione's essence – her scent, her aura, her hair. Her. Everything about her.
Hermione had let out a whine at the loss of the contact, but it didn't last long, because I had immediatley transferred my ministrations to her neck, leaving soft, open mouthed kisses against her collarbone. My heart rammed against my ribcage spasmodically.
"Draco," Hermione sighed, and the way she'd moaned my name could've undone me alone. As I stood between her legs, she wrapped them around my torso, completely entrapping me. Not that I minded, I realized, as she moved against me. By now, I thought as I brought my face up again to kiss her her soft lips, the house would be filled with our noises of desire. Should her parents come in, we'd both be killed.
It didn't matter however, as I simply picked up the girl that was wrapped around my body and carried her to her bedroom. Hermione didn't spare any time, kissing me quickly and longingly as she reached behind her to open the door. Senses blind, we stumbled into the dark room. It was quiet except for the sound our breaths and lingering moans. Once again, I didn't bother to turn on the lights, throwing my wand to the floor as I slammed the door shut, Hermione's gasps of pleasure filling my ears.
I had never kissed her this way. Hell, I had never kissed anyone like this before! Sure, we had had our share of pleasing kisses. But nothing could beat this, the spare moment where we had both just let the longing take over. Her kisses were soothing and right, and everything I wanted. In a thought of dazedness, I wondered how I had stopped myself from kissing her before.
It was the anger that made things so passionate. I was livid, and Hermione seemed to be feeding off of it, the pleasure radiating off of her in waves of voiced whimpers and sighs. At some point in time, my jacket had been shoved unceremoniously off of my body and Hermione's shoes had been kicked off as we raced each other–mouths still attatched–to the bed. After a few more languorous kisses, Hermione pulled away, and something in me clawed and urged to pull her back to me. She turned to me, her hands faltering on the buttons of my shirt. Her hair was a frazzled mess in the moonlight, and her lips were swollen to the point where they looked nearly inflamed, but nonetheless, she was beautiful. Breathtaking, even.
My groin ached and my stomach twisted violently as she her worried her bottom lip, eyebrows creased. She knew what I wanted. I hadn't planned on holding back this time, and with her enthusiasm I knew she wanted it too. I also knew that she wasn't ready. It was for the best, I realized, and I wasn't mad. As much as I wanted her at that moment, we both knew that we would already regret so much in the in the morning, and that there was no need to add onto the heavily growing list of what was wrong and what was happening. I expected her to get up, to scoot away from me after she realized what we had just done. Trying not to look bothered, even after all of what had just happened, I sat up and swung one leg over the bed, getting ready to make what would be an extremely painful and odd exit.
"Stay." Hermione breathed, her words ghosting over me in a single, faint burst of air. I paused for a moment, regarding her with conflicted eyes. Her lidded, conflicted gaze mirrored mine. But then she smiled, faintly, her fingertips inches away from mine on the now wrinkled bed sheet.
Please.
And so I stayed. I crawled back into the bed, and our bodies fit against each other's symmetrically and excruciatingly. I stared into darkness, my feelings racing through the numbness of my brain. Hermione sighed, her breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I looked at her then, surprised when I saw that her eyes didn't meet mine. Eyelids covering her brown orbs, she looked peaceful in her sleep. I mirrored her, shutting my eyes and letting the darkness consume me.
Until the morning, I thought.
VVVVV
DRAMIONE SHIPPERS REJOICE! After 41 chapters, I finally managed to give you guys what you were craving, and I sure as hell hope you guys found it to be satisfactory! I had alot of fun writing this. I bet towards the end you guys expected smut, didn't you, you naughty little readers ;D! But knowing my writing, I think we'll have to wait for that. I really hope I did this long awaited kiss justice. I love you guys, and I wanted it to be as perfect as it could possibly be. Alot of questions are going to be answered in the next chapters, so don't worry if some of the things in this chapter are a little loose ended. Please feel free to leave a review, they're the cookies to my milk, and I love responding to you guys! Also feel free to ask any questions! Love to all! x
HOLD UP, WE HAVE QUESTIONS!
Will things go smoothly for Dramione?
What will Draco do about Hermione's parents!
Do they finally realize that they just freaking belong together!
Draco still has issues with his father, will Hermione be able to help?
As for this last question, feel free to come up with one to ask me! x