hey guys, i'm sorry for the long wait. hopefully this chapters does justice for the amount of time that you had to wait. please review at the end xx
"Hermione... please." His grey eyes turn pale and I have to fight hard with myself not to jump on him and tell him that everything is going to be ok. Just one look from him and I am ready to throw all of my morals out of the window.
If anyone by Draco Malfoy had done this to me, I would have hexed them into next year and screamed until they couldn't hear anymore. But Draco Malfoy has me listening and wanting to forgive him with a single look.
I sigh, "Ok," I tell him, moving to the sofa and sitting down gently. He still holds my hand in one of his and when we are both sitting down he lifts my hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to my palm.
Draco smiles softly at me, holding my hands between us and sighs. "I'm so tired, Hermione." He tells me.
"I can see," I lift my hand and run my finger over one of the dark shadows beneath his eyes. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
He shakes his head, "So tired." He leans his cheek into my palm and I run my fingertips over his skin.
"Come on," I tell him, "You can tell me later." I smile, pulling on his hand and leading him to my bedroom, "You should sleep." He sits on the edge of my bed and watches me with blank eyes.
Shaking his head he says, "I need to tell you everything now." He stands and I try to push him back down but he is so strong that he doesn't even look like he feels anything.
"Sleep, we'll talk when you wake up." I smile, reaching down and undoing one of his shoes. I help take them off and then reach up to undo his belt and slide his jeans off his hips; my face sort of level with... well you know where! I look up at him and realise the mistake that I have made.
His eyes, so blank with exhaustion a minute ago, stare down at me – dark with lust. I back away, as he steps out of the material. "You should sleep." I repeat, backing until I reach the wall because he mimics ever one of my steps of retreat with a step of his own until we are pressed together against the wall.
He leans down to kiss my neck, breathing in deeply and groaning in the back of his throat. "Amazing." He seems to be speaking to himself – but as I assume the complement is directed at me, my head swells a little. I mean, any girl's head would if Draco Malfoy –DRACO MALFOY, I know! – called them amazing! I shake my head.
"Draco!" I moan lightly – unknowingly – as his hands reach under my shirt before ripping it off – not 'ripping it over my head'! He actually ripped it off of me. It sits – buttons clattering to the ground around it – on my bedroom floor. I stare at it in shock. Draco doesn't seem to realise though as he nuzzles his head into my chest. "Draco, no." I tell him, pushing on his shoulders with everything that I have, but it doesn't seem to have any effect – seriously, I think he just stole all of the Hulks muscle mass! "Draco, stop." I push on his shoulders again, trying to force him away from me – this is not happening, not like this! – Finally, he looks up at me, his hands cupping my hips and holding on strongly, his eyes as dark as the night.
He blinks, his eyes quickly turning back to their normal colour, all traces of lust gone as he looks into my eyes. He seems to collapse, his head resting on my chest as I run my hands over his hair. He still holds me against the wall and I realise that I am floating in the air, my legs around his waist. When did that happen?!
I don't think that either of us are breathing as we hold still, both of us scared to move. "Hermione?" His voice is soft, timid and shy and I continue to run my hands through his hair even though I am scared. I can hardly breathe. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." He mummers, caressing my hips lightly with his hand and trying to sooth me gently. "I'm so sorry."
"Draco, please put me down." I say calmly, and he quickly releases me, "Come on," Holding his hand I lead him to the bed and push him into it. Cocooning himself in the sheets and breathing deeply, he seems to relax. "Sleep, Draco."
I think he has already fallen asleep so I walk to the door; his soft words make me jump. "Stay with me," he says, his eyes flittering open before slipping shut once more, "Please."
I nod though he can't see. I slip between the sheets with him, his eyes are still shut but he seems to visibly relax his tense posture. "Goodnight," I say, even though it is very much the middle of the day.
He sighs, not responding, but he turns himself over and cuddles into my side. His head lies on my chest and I run my fingers through his hair, lying there awkwardly awake until he opens his eyes many hours later.
In the silence of the room, I can hear his quiet breathing; a soft, seamless presence that lingers in the air and comforts me more than anything has ever before, but I shake that feleing away and hold firmly onto my resentment.
I shouldn't make things easy for him just because he is Draco Malfoy. I swallow the lump in my throat, holding back tears as I watch his hands fist into my t-shirt and his head huddle closer into my chest.
Allowing my fingers to trace the smooth planes of his face, I watch his features twist from peacefulness to stress and then back to peacefulness as different dreams and thoughts flicker through his mind – finally he settles on flushed. All the while I trace his lips, his masculine eyebrows, the corners on his eyes.
The feeling of his smooth skin against mine makes my skin heat up with every soft stroke. My cheeks blush lightly as I relieve the feeling of his hands ripping my shirt off, his lips on my neck, on my lips.
Suddenly, he moves. His hand reaches to caress the underside of my breast, his fingers slip under the material of my cotton sleep wear bra – the only thing I have left on after the disastrous end that met with my top – his hand lightly cups my breast, his palm dragging slightly over my raised nipple as electric pulses shoot southwards.
His hips jerk into mine, and I moan lightly, before feeling ashamed with myself.
He's asleep, god damn it. I pull myself away until his hands drop from my body, his hips move away from mine, and everything is seemingly platonic once more. His head rests against my neck; breathing steady and sending cooling puffs of air over my heated skin.
How can I be so aroused from that one movement when I was fine two minutes ago? I reprimand myself, get a grip, Hermione.
By the time he wakes, it is nearing nightfall and I have worked myself into a mass of nerves and feelings that have taken on a sexual nature. I try not to let it show as I pry myself from his grip before telling him that I am going to get up to make us something to eat, trying to hide the tell tale rouge of my cheeks and the cheapness of my lips that has evolved from my frazzled nerves chewing all over them.
It's not that I have never thought of anyone in a sexual way, because I have. There was the time with Viktor, and then a few years of obsessed hormones that raged over Ronald Weasley and then I had a thing for Harry for a few weeks during the war until I realise that it had evolved from my lack of encounters with other males. But the force with which my feelings for Draco Malfoy have hit me is what is so new about the situation.
No other man has ever made me react to him like this.
In conclusion to my little story, I am not a person who decides to distance myself from sexual encounters. But, even so, I have to say that I am wholly inexperienced when it comes to feeling these sorts of hot flushes.
Obviously, Draco moaning in an overtly sexual way while he was sleeping – all the while pushing himself further into my breasts and griping onto my hip tightly – didn't help with the internal battle over whether or not I was decidedly crazy to be fantasising about Draco Malfoy doing a lot more than stripping me of my t-shirt.
Over the scrambled eggs, I conclude that I am completely sane to be visualising dropping my virginity knickers for the man lying in my bed, when that man is Draco and he makes me feel things that I have never felt before.
"How are you now?" I ask as I find myself staring into his crystal grey eyes from my position in the kitchen. He stands, his head resting against my bedroom door, his ripped chest glares at me from across the room; the planes of his muscles catching the light easily.
"How are you?" He shoots back at me, a cocky smirk etched onto his lips that makes me feel like he knows exactly what I am thinking, exactly how I am thinking about what I would find under his low riding boxer shorts. I snap myself out of it.
I nod quietly and, when I finally pull my eyes away from the area of his smooth hips, I say, "Fine, thanks." And return easily to making the eggs.
"I'm sorry again about last night." He says, walking closer and then grabbing onto my hand and playing lightly with my fingertips, before looking into my eyes with a buttery look that begs forgiveness. "I hope you know that I would never push you to do something that you didn't want to do,"
I cut him off, and we both end up talking together, "I know,"
He continues as if I am not speaking, "But recently..." trailing off, he pauses to sigh, running his hand over his face and tightening his grip on my hand, "I've been going through some things, things that I want so much to tell you about, but I don't know how you'll take them, and I can't imagine you turning on me, not now."
The eggs lay forgotten in the pan on the top of the counter, just about to be tipped into plates, as he shoves my hips against the cupboard. "You can trust me," I whisper against his lips, holding onto his shoulders and brushing my mouth tentatively against his own.
"Can you trust me?" He asks, and I find myself nodding, holding onto the short tendrils at the back of his head and jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist. "Is that a yes?" he pulls his lips away from my face and I moan – very audibly – and try to drag him closer. "Answer me, Hermione."
I nod again, "Yes." I whisper, "I trust you."
He spins us round, before allowing me to sit on the counter top, his hips push against mine and I find myself behaving wantonly as I throw caution to the wind and grind against him. "Your tits feel amazing." I look down to find his hands stroking my thighs, and he looks up at me with a telltale smirk.
"You were..." I have to breathe deeply as he moves against my core to stop myself from moaning as he licks over a very powerful spot on y neck; and, all of a sudden, I have an overwhelming hate for the clothes that are separating us. "Awake." My cheeks tinge in embarrassment and I allow my head to drop forwards against his shoulder.
He lifts me up, moving to the sofa before pulling me down to rest on his lap and he rolls my hips in time with his as he pulls of the last thing hiding my breast from him.
I hope you guys enjoyed, please leave a review; i hope that when it comes to write scenes that are a little more frisky, i dont completly fail :)