A/N: This is just a quickie (Heh!) There are two bits of songs used in this chapter. Lenny Kravitz released two different pieces that I love and which kind of set the mood for our beloved Hermione: Again which was released in the year 2000 and Fly Away released in 1999. (These are listed in the order they are used) I mean no disrespect to the artist and I do not own these songs.
I would also like to thank those who are following along as well as those readers who have favorited my story. You've made me smile. Also, hey we are almost there as I am halfway through the next chapter. (WHAT?) Anyway, please enjoy this offering and please review. I would definitely appreciate it.
All of my life
Where have you been
I wonder if I'll ever see you again
And if that day comes
I know we could win
I wonder if I'll ever see you again
Hermione awakened, still covered in sweat, heart pounding away like a drum, body overtaken by tremors that felt like shivers and looked like miniature earthquakes. All in all, she was most unhappy which was soon echoed by her choice of music~ a low, gritty, throbbing sort of beat which somehow married the smooth husky tenor of the man singing...
At every time I've always known
That you were there, upon your throne
A lonely queen without her king
I longed for you, my love forever
The words, the message, were not apropos, not really. She knew when she would see him again. Today or tomorrow. However, the feeling of dissonance was correct, that urge to reach out, connect while believing wholeheartedly that there was almost no point. Yes, she understood that very well. Maybe, she should have taken the step sooner? She didn't think it would have mattered in the end, not really, yet her thoughts ticked away, scratched at the surface of her mind like so many scuttling bugs.
She was still scared.
Up then and into the bath with the hope that cool water would still her thunderous heart and drench her arid skin. She stripped down, tossed her manky, sweaty night clothes into the large wicker hamper that housed her soiled laundry and stepped into the bathroom. There was an awkward pause then as she debated the merits and flaws of either a bath or a shower but in the end, expediency won out,
A shower it would be.
Let's go and see the stars
The milky way or even mars
Where it could just be ours
Let's fade into the sun
Let your spirit fly
Where we are one
Just for a little fun
Hermione wrapped her slight frame in one of her favorite ratty old bathrobes and allowed herself to listen to the words of yet another song. The beat was odd, the guitar riffs sounded heavier than the music itself but the meaning~ wanting to leave behind all of the issues and worries? Yeah. It fit. Scarily so.
I want to get away
I want to fly away
Yeah yeah yeah
With a wave of her right hand and a pulse of heat, silence took over from the noise. Hermione found herself studying her bedroom, her bathroom, checking to make sure that all was in order. As far as she could see, it was. With a slight hitch in her step, the young woman turned and meandered out into the hallway before she crossed the threshold into the library, her intelligent brown eyes skipping over the slight dishevelment left from one of her many impromptu study sessions.
A flick of her wand fixed that, soon enough.
She returned to the hallway and finished with her inspection. There was no way she wanted him to see her home in less than perfect condition. She would die of embarrassment and that would be the worse feeling in the world. (No, not getting properly shagged while going out of her mind would be the worst. Him seeing her house dirty was a close second.) By the time her apartment was, once again, respectable, Hermione had found herself wanting...ice cream.
Cool. Rich. Delicious. Ice Cream.
She knew better than to leave. No matter how delicious the ice cream offered by Felicia Fortescue (The new owner and operator of the rebuilt ice cream parlor~ a second or third cousin of Florean's? Maybe.) there was no way she'd put herself out on display this close to a full heat.
She'd die.
(Yes. One can die of embarrassment. One does not need to read books to know that...right?)
Even so, Hermione desperately wanted ice cream. Strawberry and peanut butter, the kind she shared with her boys, starting in their second year. (Nine years ago!) She had almost talked herself into going, into pulling on appropriate clothing and apparating to Fortescue's when a loud crack of sound tore her from her thoughts.
Draco had arrived.
"You look a little wild, kitten. Were you about to run away?" His words were teasingly meant and brought a small smile to her lips.
"I want ice cream. I was just getting ready-" but she paused as he had taken that moment to settle his large hands at her waist.
"What kind? You can't leave. Too close to...to..." He shook his head, his silvered gaze touched with gold. "I will go for you. You just stay here and relax. Eat while you can."
With that, Draco pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped away before he disapparated with another loud crack of sound. A few minutes later, he'd returned, his face ablaze with a light pink wash of color.
"I don't know what kind you want," he mumbled.
She snickered. "Strawberry and peanut butter in a cup. I hate cones." She paused. "I am getting uncomfortable being covered. Will you be okay if I strip down?"
The tall, broad-shouldered wizard blinked at her before giving an abrupt nod. "Do what you need to, Kitten. I will be back." Then he was gone.
~~A few hours later~~
He watched her (with eyes that were far more gold than silver) as she shuddered, shivered and fought to eat and drink sensibly. It seemed to him (and maybe to her as well) that she was sipping some sort of liquid every fifteen minutes, most likely due to fear of dehydration once the fun began. The whole upcoming heat had her on edge, was worrisome, and scary so she tried to control what she could.
Eating and drinking topped the list.
She did not think about the fact that he could see all of her imperfections, plainly. She did not allow herself to think about what he saw when he looked at her because her mortification was already sky high. To dwell on her own shortcomings, would just make it worse. Maybe she would have felt better if she could see herself the way he saw her because for Draco? She was everything he'd ever wanted, like Christmas and birthdays all at once.
He crossed his ankles and stretched out his long legs as he watched her stalked from one room to the next, her almond shaded skin touched with a pearly sheen. She had a runner's build~ every muscle toned but not overly so, stomach flat, hips slightly rounded, breasts high, small and firm. There was a small birthmark just above the rise of her bum (which looked like a sunburst, painted in toffee colors). And her hair, oh her hair, was a riotous mass of various shades of brown from honey gold to deepest cherry.
Of course, a young woman did not fight in a war and remain unblemished. She had scars, so many scars. There was a thick ropy scar which cut across her midsection, probably from the fifth year. A constellation of smaller ones that crossed her collarbone and touched her neck, like violent kisses which had decided to stay. And if those were not enough to get on with, one could always see the disgusting word carved into her forearm. However, none of those supposed blemishes took away from the pleasure he received JUST by looking at her.
In all reality, her appearance was not that important. Though he enjoyed looking, it was not her physicality which underlined those attributes that marked her as perfect for him. His mate was strong, not just physically but mentally. She was beyond intelligent and capable. His kitten was not achingly beautiful like some pampered pure blood pseudo-wife. Instead, Hermione was earth-shatteringly pretty with features that were even and touched with impish good humor. She had not lost her looks like some, she'd only grown into them and became more of what a rare few had only ever noticed from time to time.
She was glorious.
Perfect for him.
However, Hermione did not know his thoughts or have the ability to read his mind. Instead, she could only study him in little darting glances, watch his face for hidden ticks, study his lean form as he relaxed against her couch. By his expression, he didn't look too disgusted by her. By the ease in his motions, he wasn't too worried about what would occur. In fact, he looked comfortable.
Finally, when her body felt as if it wanted to drop, she halted her pacing and turned to plop herself down, on his lap. He immediately dipped his head so that he could inhale the scent of her hair and skin while his hands traced light designs over her flesh, swoops and circles, zig-zags and loop de loops.
"You are burning up, little lioness. Do you need to get back in the tub? I could help." His voice was a low growl, soothing.
"Not yet. Just hold me for a bit. It's happening faster than I thought," she paused, right hand raised to rake through chocolate cherry curls. "Maybe it's because you are here with me now?"
He inhaled deeply and pondered her supposition. "Perhaps. Doesn't matter though. I will be here for the duration." He pulled her closer, strong hands positioning the petite witch until she could lay perfectly within the circle of his arms. "Even if you wanted me gone, I would not, could not, force myself to leave you." Draco released a soft chuckle and pressed his lips to her temple as his hands stroked over blazing skin. "And even when your heat is done, we will not be. Remember that."
And then he rocked her, stroked her, settled her...until she fell asleep.
She awakened to the scent of fried fish. A few moments later, a plate loaded with golden brown chips (thick cut, like perfect steak fries) and two large pieces of perfectly battered fish appeared in the hands of an elf, clad in an odd conglomeration of patterns and colors which included some sort of psychedelic tee shirt and socks. The almost cute being soon broke the silence.
"Miss Mynee, for you." Large green eyes and even larger ears greeted her along with a crooked little smile. "I is Nik and Mister Draco said for you to eat."
Hermione reached for the plate with a smile. "Thank you, Nik. Is Draco still here?"
"No, Miss. He went home. Said he needed things. I am to stay until he comes. Would you like tea?" The voice was high, words easily understood. The whole thing drew a smile to her face, even as she forced down a few bites of food.
"Tea would be lovely. Thank you."
Hermione forced herself to continue eating, even as she noted the lateness of the hour. It was well past eight and the sky, as seen through her windows, gleamed with a rich velvety blackness which left her feeling as if she'd been wrapped in a cocoon. Soon enough, the elf had returned with a cuppa, one that gave off a delicious, fragrant steam.
Bliss.
By the time Draco had returned, Hermione was in bed, asleep. Her lithe form was soaked~ night sweats from the fever? ~ and the comforter and sheet were a pile at the foot of her bed. He took a moment to place his luggage next to her dresser and then stripped down. He knew, by her scent alone, that she would awaken early and her hunger would not be for food.
He had to be ready.
A wolfish grin graced his features for a mere moment.
He would be ready.