November 2001
The alarm clock ringing was the first thing Hermione found annoyance with. The second, was that she was absolutely freezing and her arms went to wrap around her body; however, when she did, she noticed that they wrapped around bare skin. This caused her eyes to peel open, vision blurry as if she were underwater. The third annoyance happened to be the sight of pale skin and blonde hair that she finally opened her eyes to.
"Oh, fuck," she whispered, eyes trailing from Draco's face down to his shirtless chest where they paused on a bundle of tightly knitted scarring that spread across his chest and stomach like rivers on a map. Before her eyes could drop too low, she forced herself into a sitting position, arms tight around her own bare chest as she stared at the ground where the sheets from the bed were thrown. The alarm clock vibrated on the nightstand beside her, and she muttered a silencing charm under her breath. Her feet landed on the ground beside the sheets and she grabbed them, throwing them over the sleeping body still in bed without looking. Hermione hurried to grab her bag before rushing into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.
Her eyes looked out at her from the mirror but she didn't recognize the body attached to them the longer she stared. Adorned along her collarbones were splotchy maroon markings that reminded her of blossoming petals and there was indeed a yellow and green bruise on her hip in the shape of his fingertips, but it had a match on the other hip as well. Hermione bit back the scream she so desperately wanted to let out, letting her head fall back to stare at the ceiling.
"I can't believe that this is happening," she whispered to herself, skin growing cold the longer she stood there. With a few shaky breaths, she glanced briefly back at herself in the mirror before digging into her bag for clothes. She took her time getting dressed, not wanting to go back out there to face last night's consequences. Racking her brain for memories of last night, she struggled to piece together what exactly had happened for her to wake up naked beside him. As she slipped her belt through the loop of her pants, her mind flashed to standing outside the pub. That guy, the one who had helped carry the shots to the table, he had been outside by a streetlamp watching them, she remembered that. His name eluded her, but she shook her head, focusing on what happened after they were outside as she finished clicking her belt into place.
Draco had kissed her. Her eyes flew to her reflection, gravitating to her lips where she ran a fingertip over them. They didn't feel any different, but that didn't mean anything. He had had her up against the wall, she remembered, and she had moaned - actually moaned - into his mouth. She buried her face in her hands. But what had happened once they had gotten back? She lifted her face just enough that her eyes peeked out at her reflection as she struggled to remember.
She had been on his bed as he ranted and raved at her, she knew that, and she knew he had stopped at some point to stare at her. At some point, he had been on top of her, her brain suddenly flashed the image of him with his lips latched to her collarbone as she arched up into him. She remembered how he had helped her lift her dress over her head and her unbuttoning his vest and shirt, pushing it off over his shoulders. There had been a point where he had flipped her over; she could practically feel the tender caress of his fingertips down her spine before he pushed into her. Her legs tensed, thighs clenching together as she remembered how he felt.
A squeal left her lips and she shook her head. No, no, no, she couldn't handle knowing what happened, especially when her stomach was doing flips thinking about how good it had felt. Her heart raced. She thought she'd feel regret over what had happened, but all she felt was embarrassment at how wantonly she had acted and elatedness at how he had seemed just as desperate for her. A knock on the door scared her and she jumped, looking at it in fear. Had he heard her? She shook her head once more.
"Yes?" She hoped her voice wasn't shaking noticeably. There was silence. She drew in a breath and before she could let it out, there came a small tap of metal and thud of flesh against the door and she pictured the signet ring he always wore on his left hand smacking against the frame.
"We're running late." The response was clipped, as if he had just realized who he was talking to. A scrape sounded against the door, the dragging of metal, and then footsteps walking away. Hermione finally released the breath and braced herself against the counter. She looked up through her eyelashes at her reflection, huffed a breath up at the hair hanging in front of her face and watched it billow out and back down exactly where it had been before.
She grabbed her bag and opened the door to find Draco messing with the cuffs of his sleeves. He glanced up as she stepped out, and immediately looked away. They both finished preparing in silence; Hermione slipped her wand into her pocket and pulled on her coat while Draco swept his hair into place and slipped on his jacket. Hermione reached the door first, pulled it open, and, without looking to see if he followed, exited the room.
November 2001
They spent the rest of the trip ignoring each other's presence. Every museum they entered, they went in opposite directions. Every tour they went on, one of them stayed at the front and the other at the back. Every meal they'd had, they didn't look at each other while they gulped down their food. Save but for one moment at breakfast, when Hermione looked up to see Draco staring at her neck, eyes dark and narrowed. He'd noticed her eyes on him and he nodded down at her chest.
"Missed a spot," he muttered. She glanced down to see what he was talking about, and found one of the bright hickeys peeking over the top of her shirt. With a quick glare his direction, she pulled at her collar until it was covered. After she finished eating, she ducked into the bathroom and used a glamor charm on her entire neck just in case.
Once the day was over, Hermione led the way back to their room, dragging her feet in exhaustion. As they neared the door, she glanced up to find a man standing in front of her, right beside their door. She stopped, Draco nearly walking into her. He leaned down to say something but, upon noticing the look on her face, glanced up as well. There, now grinning at the two of them, stood the man from the pub. Hermione racked her brain for his name but struggled to find it.
"What are you doing here?" Draco growled out from beside her ear. She hadn't noticed how close he'd gotten in the seconds it took her to process what was happening. One of his arms had managed to snake around her waist, palm flat against her stomach.
The man held up a thin, plastic card and Hermione cursed inwardly. Of course, one of them had dropped their keycard at the pub last night and, of course, the man stalking them had found it.
"Figured I'd return what was lost. I wonder how you got into your room last night without it though," he responded, the grin unwavering.
Matt! It finally clicked in her brain, his name was Matt. Regardless of what his name was, her heart was racing at the implications he was making. It was almost as if he knew they were wizards…
"You see, if I had lost my keycard, I would've just apparated-" Hermione and Draco froze, both of their faces dropping in shock. "-as I'm sure you might've done. So, tell me, how long have the Death Eater and the War Heroine been fucking?"
"You're a reporter," Draco stated, arm tensing around her. Hermione wondered why he hadn't let go yet, but wasn't going to push him away just in case.
"Was it obvious? I'll have to work on that," Matt shrugged sheepishly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "But I think you two will have to work on subtlety, yeah? Bit obvious last night."
"That's just-that's mental!" Hermione finally exclaimed. "We're not obviously anything!"
Matt gave her a weird look, glancing down at the arm still wrapped around her.
"Right," he dragged out. "Anyways, I'd love to hear how you two came to be together; shall we converse?"
Hermione opened her mouth to respond but, before she could, Draco spun on his heel, dragging her with him. They landed in the room where Hermione toppled over onto her own bed this time. Draco kept his balance but stared down at her with narrowed eyes.
"I couldn't give two fucks what he has to say about us, but I'll be damned if either one of us talks about it," he growled. She glared up at him.
"Well, he's going to write something! What are we supposed to do, just let it happen?"
"What would you say to clear the air, Granger? I'd love to hear it."
"The truth! That we thought a crazy person was stalking us - which is true - and did whatever we could to get away!"
"Granger, he probably has pictures," Draco sighed. "We made out on that corner for more than a minute, he had ample time to take some. How are you going to explain that?"
"I'd figure something out! All I know is that he can't run that article, Malfoy! Last night was nothing and I won't have the world thinking it was something!"
"Nothing, huh?" He shot back before stripping of his overcoat and swiftly unbuttoning his shirt. He almost ripped it as he shrugged out of the sleeves. She gawked at his bare chest, scars lining each ridge along his ribs, wondering what the actual fuck he was doing. "What do you call this then, Granger?" He turned and her heart stopped. His back was stripes of red and white, hickeys blooming along his shoulders and nail marks deep down the length of his back.
"I-" She started but the words stuck in her throat. He turned back around, fuming.
"What do you call the pretty ring of red around your own throat, then? We did something we can't take back, Granger, and he knows that something like it happened. Hell, we even said it out loud just so he would hear! How do you figure you'll fix this?"
"Put your shirt on, Malfoy," she whispered, voice pulling like a rubber band. "I can't have a decent conversation with you standing there half naked."
"Oh, I'm sorry, does this make you uncomfortable? Well, bad news, dear. You saw more than this last night and enjoyed it."
Hermione felt the need to slap him, and so stood, arm raised before he grabbed her wrist.
"I'm only speaking the truth. I remember what happened, don't you? You can't be mad with the truth," he whispered, almost nose to nose with her. "Say you regret it. Say it and I'll put my shirt back on and we'll let this conversation die and never speak of it again."
They stared at each other for such a long moment, Hermione thought her eyes were going to shrivel up, they were so dry. She opened her mouth, planning to scream it at him, but nothing came out. She snapped it shut again as she noticed his eyes close as he breathed out.
"Granger, I'm going to count to five, and if you don't say you regret it by the time I get to five, I'm going to kiss you again," he spoke calmly, opening his eyes again to search hers for honesty. Her throat closed up and she practically whimpered under the intensity of his gaze.
"One." His hand squeezed her wrist.
"Two." Slowly, he inched closer to her.
"Three." He reached a hand out to softly caress her hip before sliding his hand around to lay flat against her back.
"Four." He was whispering now, leaning his head down towards hers.
"Five." Draco watched her for a moment, before using his hand on her back to tug her closer and swooping in to kiss her. This kiss was different from the one last night; it was gentle and slow, and he carefully plied her lips to open against his. Heat coiled in her chest.
"Draco," she whispered when he broke away from her. His eyes popped open, dilating as they met hers. "I don't regret it. I'm just scared of what this means."
"It means," he paused, letting go of her wrist to push a lock of hair behind her ear. It fell right back over and he pushed it back again, holding her cheek to keep it from moving again. His fingertips were cool and trembled against her cheekbone. "We can try this out, see what comes of it. Or we can move past it and never speak of it again." He stared hard at her. "It's all in your hands, Granger. Your choice."
"Why not your choice? Doesn't that matter?"
"Because if you don't choose what I choose, then I'm at risk to be thrown into Azkaban for dragging the Golden Girl into an unwilling relationship." At his words, she realized what his choice was. Her heart clenched and she felt goosebumps prickle along the back of her neck and her arms. Slowly, she reached up to loop her arms around his neck.
"Okay, Malfoy." She stretched her hand up to run through the hair at the back of his head. He seemed to melt at her touch, head sinking back against her hand. "Let's see what comes of it."
