Chapter 10
Wakes into Flight Some Fluttering Bird
After leaving the unbearable awkwardness of the staff room, Hermione did not return to her room in the library. She went straight back to her flat in Hogsmeade and threw a handful of Floo powder into the hearth with unnecessary violence. Kneeling down on a chocolate brown cushion at the base of the fireplace, Hermione stuck her head into the emerald green flames.
"Luna?" she called once her disembodied head appeared in their living room. "Luna!" After a few moments, her estranged roommate floated in from the direction of the kitchen in her characteristically ethereal fashion. Luna was wearing a blue t-shirt that proclaimed Ravenclaws Do It Better, grey sweatpants, and the ludicrous unicorn slippers that Hermione had gotten her as a birthday present several years ago.
"I had a feeling you'd call today," Luna said omnisciently. She took a sip from her floral teacup, looking at Hermione expectantly over the rim.
"Any chance you can you pop over for a bit?" Hermione's floating head asked. The brunette had barely finished the sentence before Luna disappeared in a swirl and she felt a finger tapping her on the shoulder. Hermione pulled her head out of the magical fire and turned in time to see Luna sitting down on the settee, tea still in hand.
"How's the book coming along?"
"Are you ever going to tell me how you can Apparate without spilling a drop?"
"I don't think it's something you can learn," Luna told her matter-of-factly.
/
The two women sat on the sofa together some time later, both drinking fresh cups of tea and sharing a plate of chocolate biscuits. Hermione had given Luna a synopsis of the Malfoy situation, starting with their first encounter in the library to the aborted kiss an hour earlier.
"He always was very attractive to look at," Luna replied once Hermione had finished. "If a bit of a shit."
"That's all you have to say?"
"I had no idea that he played the piano. Was it nice?" The blonde wondered aloud.
"Yes," answered Hermione. She refrained from telling Luna that it was so nice it made her want to melt into a puddle of warm goo at Malfoy's feet.
"Are you going to go see him later?"
"And say what?"
"I think you should probably try kissing him again," Luna suggested as if commenting on the weather.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"You don't think that's… problematic?" Hermione probed.
"No. Do you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It's Malfoy."
"You said he was different," Luna pointed out. "Is he different?"
"I think he is," said Hermione, almost to herself.
"Second chances are lovely," stated Luna simply, dipping a biscuit into her cup and nibbling on it thoughtfully.
/
Luna had not been able to stay long. Hermione had caught her in the middle of packing for a trip to Cornwall for a two-week murtlap study.
Hermione barely had time to process Luna's unbelievably anti-climactic reaction to her snogging of Draco bleeding Malfoy when there was a knock at her door.
She was not expecting anyone. Grabbing her wand, Hermione headed down the stairs.
"Pervidere privatus," she thought, pointing in the direction of the door. As the front door became transparent only to her, Hermione caught her foot on a step and only just stopped herself from tumbling headfirst the remainder of the way. Instead, she collapsed against the wall and stared at her unlikely visitor.
"No good pretending you're not at home, Granger," Malfoy called from the other side. "I heard that." Hermione's eyes narrowed with irritation as she stood up, smoothing her clothes and hair. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door with as much composure as she could manage.
Malfoy looked much the same as he had earlier, although his platinum blond locks were more disheveled than normal and his face was slightly flushed.
"Yes?" Hermione demanded. Malfoy looked at her with undisguised annoyance, the muscles in his neck becoming more pronounced as he clenched his jaw. His right hand came up to rest on the doorframe beside her head and he leaned into it heavily, bringing them closer. Hermione met his storm-grey eyes and they were fearful, but determined. She thought he looked like a man trying to convince himself to jump off a cliff.
And in one decisive motion, he did just that. Suddenly he was kissing her properly, one large hand gripping the flesh of her hip and the other in her hair, brushing her cheek, stroking her neck. Everywhere his surprisingly rough and calloused skin touched hers felt like it was on fire. Hermione was vaguely aware of him pushing her further inside and kicking the door shut behind them.
The assault on her senses made Hermione unable to form any rational thought. She felt long fingers splayed across the flesh of her lower back, more long fingers gripping her bare thigh. The slightest scratch of stubble against her chest as Draco's lips trailed back up her neck. The playful graze of his teeth on her lower lip as he pulled her back to his mouth, his tongue soft and frantic against hers. He smelled of parchment and smoke and sandalwood.
When he started to move away, Hermione was not even in control of her own motor functions. Her hands grasped the front of his robes and drew his swollen mouth back to hers. She felt Draco smile against her and he started to chuckle in a deep, dastardly way that gave her the sensation of sinking into a warm bath.
"Patience, Granger," Draco chided, successfully disentangling their limbs. Hearing her surname pronounced in that typical Malfoy fashion brought Hermione unpleasantly back to reality. She backed away and crossed her arms over her chest, pointedly not looking at him.
"You shouldn't be here," she said flatly.
"Oh, no no no," he replied. With little warning, Draco bent at the waist and pulled Hermione towards him, lifting her easily over his shoulder. "We're not pretending like this never happened, Granger."
"This shouldn't be happening, Mal—," Hermione trailed off with a whimper as Draco playfully bit the exposed flesh next to his head. She didn't protest further as he carried her up the stairs. He strode across her flat to the bedroom and she squawked as he threw her unceremoniously down on the duvet.
Hermione watched Draco draw his wand from inside his robes before removing them, draping the heavy fabric over a chair in the corner. She stiffened as he moved towards her, wand still in hand.
"Now," said Draco, simultaneously unbuttoning the top button of his shirt with his left hand and flicking his wand with the right. As he did so, Hermione felt her own top button pull free. "Please explain something to me, Granger." With every word, Draco flicked his wand and exposed more of her skin. By the time he said her name, Hermione looked down to see her shirt completely open to reveal the simple black bra underneath.
"What, Malfoy?" she breathed, her heart feeling like it was going to beat out of her ribcage. His shirt was open now too, revealing a seemingly endless expanse of pale white skin. Draco knelt on the floor in front of her bed and pulled off her shoes. His hands slid up Hermione's ankles and calves, grasping the backs of her knees and hauling her forwards until she was sitting with Draco's face practically in her lap.
"What possible reason…" Draco articulated, pushing Hermione's skirt up to her waist. "… could you have…" The ghost of his lips on her thigh seared her like a brand. "… for these fucking…" His hand undid one her suspenders and Draco drug his tongue across the newly exposed skin. "… garters." Hermione's eyes had slid shut and she wasn't expecting to feel his mouth on hers a moment later.
Draco kissed her slowly and softly and with purpose. He made short work of unclipping the rest of the suspenders and sliding her stockings to the floor. Hermione wrapped her legs around him and pressed their bodies together, her hands gripping the corded muscles of his back and shoulders.
"I just think they're more comfortable," Hermione whispered as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth. Draco put a long arm around her and guided them both backwards until they were lying fully on the bed.
"Minx," he said accusingly, trailing kisses down her arms as he threw her shirt aside.
"Draco, fuck, what—" Hermione pushed him away slightly and he let her, smirking.
"You've never called me that."
"Well we are very close to nudity at this point."
"How close?" Draco asked, sliding a bra strap down her shoulder.
"This is mad," she moaned, batting his hand away. Draco sighed and stood up, undoing his cuffs and baring his entire torso to her as he methodically placed his shirt on top of his robes. Hermione felt dreadfully hot as she looked at him - he was beautiful.
"Granger—" he started, then stopped himself. "Hermione." She arched an eyebrow, but did not interrupt him. "Personally, I cannot carry on in this fashion. I cannot close my eyes and see nothing but you randy in the library, you drunk and tarted up. I cannot stop thinking about having a lot more than your arse in my hand."
"I was not tarted up!" Hermione said indignantly. Draco closed his eyes, nostrils flaring in irritation.
"Not. The. Point," he ground out. He opened his eyes and looked at her, pupils wide and piercing. "Would you please stop trying to convince yourself this is a terrible idea and just let me have you?"
Hermione blinked. She could not keep looking at him. She looked anywhere else – her eyes darting around the room to her dressing table, the open door, the thin scars across Draco's chest from Harry's Sectumsempra curse. Draco was tall and lean and she now knew that his flat stomach was firm, but not hard. She followed the line of dark blond hair from his navel to where it disappeared behind his silver belt buckle.
As if he knew exactly what Hermione was thinking, Draco started to undo his belt. She knew that her eyes were probably large as saucers and that she would need to start breathing again at some point. But she simply could not look away as Draco removed his shoes, socks, trousers, and finally a pair of dark grey trunks.
"Yes, very well then," Hermione agreed mechanically, struggling to comprehend the alabaster glory that was a completely nude Draco Malfoy.
"Brilliant," he said, kneeling down next to the bed and pulling her towards him. She wanted to protest that she could no longer see his delicious, flushed erection. But then he was unzipping her skirt and tugging it down her hips. Hermione wished that she wearing something slightly more exciting than plain black knickers, but at least it matched her bra.
Draco kissed and licked his way slowly upward, starting at her toes. When he finally reached the edge of her underwear, Hermione was sure that she had soaked right through them. Every nerve ending was alight as she lifted her bottom so that he could slide the offending garment off.
Hermione had certainly never imagined having Draco Malfoy between her legs. Even if she had, she wouldn't have imagined his warm, wet tongue stroking her firmly and slowly. His fingers gripped her hips as she writhed and whimpered beneath him, hands tangled in his surprisingly soft hair.
Draco continued to tease her, pulling away to place kisses on her lower belly or drag his teeth gently along the flesh of her thigh. Hermione could feel his eyelashes fluttering against her as he tortured her this way over and over. Eventually Draco's mouth would find its way back to the bundle of nerves that sent pleasurable shockwaves all the way to her scalp.
"Draco, I —mmmm —oh, Merlin, just there," she begged, arching off the bed as Draco flicked his tongue across her clit faster and faster. Hermione dug her heels into Draco's back as her whole body contracted and then relaxed.
She opened her eyes a few moments later and looked down at him. He had rocked back on his heels and was staring back at her, his complexion pink and his breathing heavy.
"Would you still like me to go?" Draco asked. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up on her elbows.
"Just come here, you git," she said, reaching for him. He leaned into her touch, lips hungry and pliant as they fell back onto the purple duvet.