Thanks for all those leaving comments and predicting what should happen! So fun to hear people's thoughts and guesses :) On we go…

Chapter Ten

…

Draco couldn't seem to stop the little ticks of nervous behaviour that leaked through as he walked down the main street of Hogsmeade. He kept wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and checking his reflection in the glass of every second shop window they passed. It felt like there was a frog in his throat the size of a fully-grown blast-ended skrewt.

For her part, Hermione seemed completely carefree, as if visiting the town together on a lazy Sunday morning was just the norm. As if they were totally at ease in each other's company.

Maybe she's just better at hiding it, he grumbled to himself, cursing his stupid nerves for getting the better of him. It's not like they were on a date or anything. They'd just been hanging out as usual and agreed to visit the bookstore to find those extra readings Professor Babbling had recommended.

A purely platonic, non-romantic, conveniently casual trip to the bookstore.

Nothing more, not a date.

It didn't help that they were attracting a fair amount of attention. More than a few people they'd passed in the street had sent them confused, piercing glances. And he'd been hard pressed to ignore the rumbling comments that followed them down the cobblestoned walkways. It made sense. It's not like they were subtle. Granger's heroic deeds had been splashed all over the Daily Prophet in recent weeks, her bashful expression and wild hair becoming a distinctive trademark in the newspaper's sales.

And he was the spitting image of his father, whose notoriety was perhaps trumped only by the Dark Lord himself. Not for the first time he cursed the unique blonde hair and pointed features that Lucius had bestowed on him. Draco tried not to think about his father very often these days, rotting in his grave with his precious dignity in tatters, but was sadly reminded of the man every time he looked in the mirror.

Everybody knew them. The wizarding world were intimately aware of who he was, and who Hermione was. But it appeared as though they were having a hard time placing the two of them together. It was like he was muck smeared on the bottom of her shoe. Out of place and unwanted.

Draco swallowed and kept his head down, hunching his shoulders to hopefully appear shorter. He plodded along sullenly next to his companion, listening to her prattle on about the books she was interested in finding. He didn't mind the chatter. It was strange but also nice to have a friend who had half a brain. It wasn't like Crabbe or Goyle held very stimulating conversations back in the old Hogwarts days.

The charmed bell over the door to the bookstore tinkled merrily as they entered together. Hermione immediately called out a greeting to the elderly man behind the counter. He must have been about a hundred or so, his hair sticking up in tufts and his weathered glasses pinching the bridge of his nose. The man looked up drowsily. He smiled vaguely and gave her a wave before returning to his book. This seemed to be a normal interaction between them.

Hermione darted between two shelves and disappeared, already beginning her scavenger hunt for the texts she wanted. Draco paused for a moment, wondering if he should shop for himself. He'd been reading a lot more this year since he was often isolated in his chambers in the evening.

With a huff, he sauntered over to a shelf of fiction books, browsing the titles mulishly and picking out the occasional tome to peruse the blurb. All the while, he tried to keep himself distracted and not respond to the eyes fixed in his direction. Even here in the quiet little bookshop, he was drawing attention. The old proprietor didn't seem to give two figs who he was, as he was absorbed in his own reading, but the other patrons certainly did.

There was a young couple in the opposite corner pointing in his direction and whispering to each other behind their hands. Another older woman was scowling at him from over the rim of a household charms text. A second woman tugged at the hand of her child, pulling him towards the door. Distantly he heard her murmuring something along the lines of 'he should be ashamed to show his face here'.

As she left, he heard snippets of her conversation exclaiming angrily to somebody outside, warning them not to enter the store because a 'Death Eater' was in there.

"…flaunting his dark mark and tormenting that poor muggleborn girl….you know, Harry Potter's girlfriend…"

"Probably bought his way out of Azkaban…"

"Oh yes, it's absolutely disgusting if you ask me…just like his father…

"Poor girl…"

Draco snapped the book shut that he'd been trying to browse through.

His stomach felt like it had turned to lead, and his throat burned with frustration and mortification. He quickly put the book back on the shelf where he'd found it and slipped into the nearby aisle to find Hermione. She was running her finger along some spines, murmuring to herself as she searched for the title she was after.

"Ah! Gotcha!"

He clenched his fists and watched as she reached up to grab a book from the second highest shelf, bouncing on her tippy toes. He clenched his teeth together, then reached up and slid it out for her, handing it to her silently.

"Oh!" she spun around to see who'd helped her, then her lips stretched into a pretty smile, "thank you! Mr Clarence has a 'no-accio' policy in his store. He says that repeated exposure to charms will tarnish the magical integrity of some of the spelled texts…"

She continued to ramble attractively, and the sight of her talking a mile a minute, her cheeks flushed and happy, almost drew him out of his sour mood. Almost. But then another customer who hadn't left the store yet scoffed and gave him such an ugly glare that he felt his gut plummet again.

"I'm just going to go," he interrupted her, scowling and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He watched as Hermione's face fell and she blinked in sudden realisation.

"Oh okay. I know I can get carried away when I'm book-shopping, sorry. We can meet later at the Three Broomsticks if you'd prefer to visit other stores."

"No, that's not…" he paused and sighed, hating that he'd made her feel like she was being boring, when really the sight of her all excited about books was weirdly sexy to him. But he didn't think he should explain this, so instead he doubled back. "I'm going back to the school. This was a mistake."

Hermione blinked up at him in surprised confusion.

"Wha-" she began, her tone a bit hurt as she furrowed her brow and peered up at him questioningly. He shoved his hands into his pockets self-consciously. His gaze darted around the store. It was then that she seemed to also become aware of the number of customers glaring at him and holding hushed conversations. Her eyes widened in understanding, tinged with that hint of stubborn outrage he'd become so familiar with.

"Draco-" she began, looking as though she might protest, but he cut her off quickly.

"Don't. It's fine. You should keep shopping. I'll see you back at school this afternoon."

And then he spun around and left before she could stop him or say anything else. Draco tucked his head down and strode away from the bookshop, darting behind shops and through alleys, back in the direction of Hogwarts. His face was flushed, and he wondered if this was what his life would look like from now; feeling scrutinized and humiliated in public everywhere he went.

So much for thinking he had a chance in hell with Hermione Granger. The earlier flutter of anticipation at the thought of a whole day spent in Hogsmeade with her (not a date, not a date, not a date…) now felt hollow. He was a stupid fool to think that he could get away with it.

Draco Malfoy was a pariah. The scum of the wizarding world.

The mark on his arm twinged with the echo of a burn. It was a permanent reminder of his lost childhood, his shattered innocence and the snake-faced madman who'd demanded his allegiance. The stain of his father's blood ran through his veins too. No matter how much he despised the thought.

To the rest of the world, he would always be a Death Eater.

Draco veered off the path, taking a shortcut through the fringes of the forbidden forest near where the whomping willow loomed tall over the valley. He stomped through the undergrowth, a track winding up the hill, shoddily beaten there by the occasional impatient student.

"Draco!"

He froze. The shout came from behind him, masked by the thicket of trees. Then she appeared, breathless and panting as she ran around the corner of the path he was on. He stared at her, dumfounded. She must have run full pelt for half a mile to catch up.

"Oh, there you are! Thank Merlin," she gasped, wheezing. "Just give me a moment to catch my breath before I yell at you."

Hermione bent halfway over, resting her palms on her knees, sucking in deep breaths. Her cheeks were pink from the exertion. A few strands of her outrageous hair had escaped and were whipping freely in the breeze.

"What in Salazar's name are you doing, Granger?" he grumbled, trying not to think about how nice she looked, all wild and spirited. She was normally wound so tightly, dressed primly, posture perfect.

"Right now? Having a…a…minor asthma attack. But in two minutes - giving you a piece of my mind!"

"This is extremely unnecessary," he drawled, but she interrupted with a wave of her hand.

"You left because people were acting hostile towards you, didn't you?" she wheezed, her tone strongly suggesting that she already knew the answer.

"It doesn't matter," he replied sharply, "I'll have to get used to it, won't I?"

"Then why are you in such a snit?"

"I'm not in a snit," he argued, but she just snorted.

"Oh sure. You're storming up this stupid too-steep hill with a big scowl on your face because everything is just hunky dory," she said sarcastically, still very much out of breath and now holding her side where she appeared to have got a stitch.

"Just drop it."

"No."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and finally stood upright once more.

"Well tough luck, troll brains. Because I do want to talk about it. As soon as I stop seeing spots anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"We've already talked about this. I told you before; you're not the villain you imagine yourself to be. Why won't you forgive yourself?"

"You're kidding right?" he sighed and ran his hand nervously through his hair, "You know why. You know what I was like. Who I was back then."

The witch let out a sharp breath of frustration.

"Exactly. Who you were when you were only eleven years old. You're not a bad person anymore, Draco."

"I'm not a good person," he grumbled, making her chuckle.

"Okay, you're not all good. You're still a prickly, anti-social prat, and sometimes you can be a big spoilt baby and you're far too conceited, with a terrible streak of self-hatred that simmers until you act out and hurt the people around you-"

"Is this going somewhere?" he asked her with a glare. She took a deep breath and met his eye squarely.

"But you're not to blame for what happened during the war. You didn't have a choice. And all those people whispering and talking about you down there… they don't have the foggiest idea what really happened! They'll never understand what we went through, either of us."

"Yeh well…it still hurts, alright? Hearing people call me a monster and a Death Eater."

"I get it, I do! One day I'm the smart, capable witch who helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort, and the next day I'm the desperate slag who's feeding him love potions! Being in the spotlight is ugly. But it doesn't really matter, as long as the people close to you know the truth."

"Who says it isn't the truth? How can I not take it to heart when I constantly hear people whispering about how I'm an evil murderer just like…like my…"

He snapped his mouth closed, his whole body trembling with repressed rage. He couldn't even say it. It hurt too damn much. Hermione's brown gaze turned soft and he forced himself to look away, not wanting to see her pity.

"You're nothing like your father, Draco," she told him quietly, just barely audible over the howling wind from the hillside beneath them.

"Oh yeh? How the hell would you know?"

"The man tried to kill me on multiple occasions. I'm pretty sure that's a key point of difference. Unless you've been slipping poison in my pumpkin juice at breakfast."

Draco snorted grimly, his jaw clenching as he continued to stare at the nearest line of trees. He felt his eyes burning and he swallowed.

"I hate him," he murmured, "I hate him so much it eats me up inside. He did this to me. My own father. And even though he's gone, even though he got what he deserved in the end… I just…I can't stop hating him."

"I know," she said sadly, taking a tiny step closer, her fingers twitching as though she might reach out and touch him, "If it helps, I kinda hated him too."

He shook his head again, appreciating her wry smile, the way she was trying her best to cheer him up.

"It doesn't help that I'm the spitting image of him," he grumbled morosely, gesturing down at himself. Hermione clucked her tongue and tilted her head to one side.

"You certainly do have a unique brand of arrogant pureblood going on."

Draco lifted his gaze to her, cocking one eyebrow at her crooked smile.

"You really are going for the tough love approach today, I see," he commented dryly, making her smile even wider.

"Only when you're being all mopey. Now, if you're so worried about emulating your father, why don't you start making some changes?"

"Like what?" he asked doubtfully.

Hermione considered him carefully, her gaze trailing up and down his body from head to toe. He squirmed underneath her scrutiny. She stepped in closer again. His heart skipped as her brown eyes glimmered with amusement. He didn't dare move a muscle or say anything as she contemplated him with an air of mischief. Then, without warning, she reached up on the balls of her feet to make herself taller. She raised her hands and tangled her fingers in his hair and started to ruffle the strands around, shaking them lose from the gel he'd applied that morning. He froze, trying desperately not to groan at the sensation of her nails scratching at his scalp, nor her close proximity. He could smell the lotion on her skin and her shampoo. Vivid flashbacks to the previous night teased him, reminding him what she tasted like, how she sounded.

Sweet Merlin, she's trying to kill me.

He stared unblinkingly down at her face, the look of concentration in her features, nose scrunched up a little and her mouth twitching in that way it did when she was focused on a task.

"There!" she proclaimed, stepping back after a minute or so in which he was sure he had failed to breathe. He frowned, wondering what on earth she was doing.

"What was that all about?" he croaked.

"Making you look less like a snob and more like a normal human being," she replied cheekily.

"By messing up my hair?"

"Well… it gives you a more youthful, devil-may-care kind of vibe. Rather than a businessman with a stick up his arse. I like it. Very cute."

"Cute?" he spluttered indignantly.

"Like bed hair," she explained, her cheeks flushing bright red the moment she said it, "you know… um…carefree and sexy."

He was silent for a moment as her face turned even redder.

"You think I'm sexy?" he teased her after a pause, feeling the last of his melancholy leave him in the face of her bashful, almost embarrassed look.

"Oh my gosh, did you hear that? I think it's the lunch bell," she blurted, spinning around towards the school. She started to stride away at a fast pace. "We'd better go eat, since you ruined our Hogsmeade outing."

Draco felt a warmth infuse him as he watched her prim little arse stride away. He was filled with a sudden overwhelming longing that gripped every inch of him and wouldn't let go.

Swallowing roughly and replaying curse words on a loop in his head, Draco acted before he could second guess himself. He raced after her, grabbing her arm before she could leave the wooded area. Tugging her back around to face him, he reached up and cradled her head in his hands, pulling her towards him and planting a kiss on her lips, eyes clenched tight and thoughts spinning.

Nice going Draco. Just start mauling her in the forest, why not!

He could feel his fingers getting tangled up in her ridiculous hair as he held her close. Draco didn't dare move a muscle other than to keep his mouth pressed to hers, praying that she wouldn't be too taken aback. He had just really really wanted to kiss her.

You probably came on too fast.

But the longer he waited, the more confused he became. She wasn't pulling away. She wasn't acting confused or shoving him backwards. And then eventually, after what seemed like an age, she…

Sweet Merlin...

She angled her head just slightly, just enough that their noses moved to rest against one another. The shift in position gentled the kiss, as if she were accepting it. Then she fucking sighed and the achingly soft, breathless sound and feel of it gave him all the permission he needed.

His fingers twitched in her hair, and he tightened his grip on her head, angling it even further so that he could melt into the kiss.

With a groan, Draco launched into action. He kissed her properly, parting his mouth to caress her lips and tasting her little gasps as she did the same. He kissed her like she might disappear at any moment, thoroughly and completely. He kissed her until he found himself struggling to breathe.

When he drew away to suck in a lungful of air, he watched blearily as she did the same, her brown eyes glazed and staring at him in bemusement.

"You kissed me," she mumbled, stepping back as he extricated his hands from her curls.

"Yeh, I guess I did," he replied dazedly.

"So… is kissing something we do now as well?" she asked, as if she wasn't sure what else to say. It was a fair question. Those couple of nights in their chambers, despite the intimacy they'd shared, there had been no kissing. This felt different somehow.

"I…I liked it," he said shortly, clamming up under her gaze.

"So did I."

His heart skipped at her frank reply. He wiped his palms on his jeans and licked his lips.

"So…er…can I kiss you again?" he asked hoarsely, hoping that she would say yes. But before she could reply, the actual lunch gong rang out from the castle and down over the hillside, reverberating through the trees. Hermione's brown eyes widened in bewildered surprise, and she pointed vaguely towards the school.

"That was the lunch bell," she said dumbly, her stance a bit awkward. But then she licked her lips as well.

"Lunch can wait," he told her softly, stepping in close again and grabbing her hand. Gently, he moved them to the side of the uneven, rocky path, directing her to stand with her back against a nearby tree. He stood in front of her, their bodies almost touching, and paused for a moment. He loomed over her, so much taller than her rather petite frame. Hermione's brown eyes seemed dark and her lids heavy. She was staring up at his lips, in anticipation he realised. Angling his head once more, Draco leaned down to her height, pressing his palms into the tree trunk behind her head to steady himself.

Then he kissed her again.

It was smoother this time, her lips parting immediately as they kissed each other softly. The tentative sucks and strokes grew in boldness quickly. Draco revelled in the feel and taste of her mouth, devouring her with less and less thought as he became driven by instinct.

The lunch gong rang out again, but this time they both ignored it. The kissing was getting heavier, less controlled. A part of Draco wanted to throw caution to the wind and step closer into the space between her legs, lift her up and pin her to the goddamn tree. He wanted to slip his hand down the front of her tight jeans and touch her. But they were too close to the school and a sane corner of his mind reminded him that getting caught would be a very bad idea. If people protested at the sight of them browsing innocently in a bookstore together, imagine their reaction to this.

And so, he slowly drew the kiss to a close once more, leaning back and swallowing as he watched Hermione catch her breath. He tugged a piece of bark from her hair and helped her regain her footing.

"To be continued," he murmured, unable to suppress a wry, meaningful smirk of anticipation. He jerked his head towards the school, indicating that they should head back. Hermione just nodded, straightening her clothes, and making sure she looked pristine once more.

"Tonight?" she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.

"I'll come to your room after the curfew bell," he uttered softly, not daring to meet her eye in case he decided to hell with it, and picked up right where they left off here on the edge of the forbidden forest.

She nodded again and they continued on side by side, winding their way back up towards the castle once more. At first there was a slightly awkward silence between them, but then Hermione started describing the books she'd hurriedly purchased after he'd left the store, and things gradually returned to normal.

Except of course for Draco's heart rate, which continued to race an uneven gait.

I kissed Hermione Granger, he realised with a kind of detached wonder, still feeling a bit lost and half-dazed. If only his younger self could listen in on his thoughts right now.

Because I can't bloody wait to do it again.

…

Draco tapped his foot impatiently, frowning up at the clock over his mantel place for about the hundredth time. He'd already paced the length of the room enough times to wear down the carpet. Once or twice he'd vainly attempted to pretend like he wasn't bothered and just read a book to pass the time. But who was he kidding. He was antsy. Unable to settle to anything. And it was all her fault.

It's just ten minutes! It's not like you've been stood up, Draco. Be patient for Merlin's sake.

Hermione was supposed to come to his room at 10:30pm. He watched as the minute hand ticked over once more. 10:41pm. Eleven minutes late now.

Normally Draco wouldn't be so single-mindedly obsessed with that kind of detail. But this was Hermione Granger. She was a very punctual witch, scrupulously so, and was rarely late to anything.

This was now the second night since their shared kiss down by the forbidden forest. Their second planned late-night rendezvous organised after everyone else had gone to bed. And yet here he was, sitting restlessly and watching the clock like a sad lunatic because that bloody infuriating witch was now eleven minutes late.

It's not like he'd started living solely for the thought of what occurred between them in the privacy of their third-floor rooms. Or that he waited every minute of every day in a state of nervous excitement just waiting to kiss her senseless again.

Okay, so maybe Draco could admit that he was going a bit crazy.

You're a sad, pathetic wizard, Draco. Stop kidding yourself.

Last night with Hermione had been… not exactly what he was expecting. In fact, it had defied everything he'd known before.

She'd ushered him into her room with a petrified little smile, both of them visibly anxious and uncertain. Sitting on her bed, they'd kissed a bit more, but it hadn't gone much further. She'd asked him a question about his past relationships midway through a make out session, and he'd answered and then somehow they'd just… kept talking.

Draco had never just sat awake until the early hours of the morning chatting so easily with another person. He couldn't remember ever… revealing so much of himself. Even though not a single item of clothing had been removed that night, he'd never felt so exposed.

He'd told her about his childhood, about his relationship with his mother, his strained friendship with Greg that had dwindled to nothing after the war. He'd recounted the first time he did magic and what it felt like catching his first snitch against Hufflepuff in their Second Year.

And Hermione had opened up to him as well. He'd learned more about her muggle upbringing, her fears and doubts about entering the magical world. She'd cried when telling him about her parents, still living in Australia with their memories modified. She'd laughed when describing the antics of Dumbledore's Army and how they'd dodged Umbridge for so long that year.

It was odd. And really unexpected. Draco never thought he'd enjoy himself so much. Because, while he truly relished the memory of those nights over a week ago when they'd indulged in more carnal pleasures, somehow that subsequent evening spent just talking about everything and nothing was infinitely better. For the first time in his whole pathetic, self-absorbed life, he felt genuinely close to somehow else. Not because they were reluctant allies, occasional study companions or weird fuck buddies. But a true friend.

Now tonight it was her turn to come to his room and…

She's late.

She was bloody late. Twelve minutes now.

Draco was watching the clock so fiercely with such a grim scowl on his face that he actually got a small fright when the expected knocking sound finally came from the door. He jumped slightly and then rolled his eyes at how pathetic he'd become.

Just answer it you nitwit.

With a forced air of casualness, Draco opened the door and let Hermione slip in quietly. She was wearing her red plaid dressing gown again, with comfy looking slippers on her feet. It was a particularly cold night, so he was glad he had the fire crackling merrily in the corner.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she whispered on her way in, her brown eyes shining sincerely as she twisted her hands together, "I got stuck talking to Timothy in the corridor. My god, he just wouldn't leave! He kept blathering on about New Year's Eve."

"What's happening New Year's Eve?" he asked curiously, his frustration instantly melting away in the face of her apology.

"It seems as though we're all going to the Three Broomsticks again. I'd personally rather stay in with a good book, but I need to get a life and stop being such a lonely old shrew apparently. His words, not mine."

Draco smiled at her grumbling, thinking she looked adorable in her pyjamas with her hair knotted tightly into two long plaits for bed. Her indignation was only making her look more attractive to him.

"Well, if you're being forced to celebrate the new year, then maybe this lonely old shrew would like to practice some midnight kissing?" he suggested with a devilish smile. Hermione snorted and approached him cautiously, her cheeks a little pink at his words.

"Smooth," she commented drily.

He shrugged and took her hand, drawing her to sit on the bed next to him.

"Did it work?" he asked with a half smirk.

"Maybe a little," she mumbled, before leaning in and pressing her lips to his. Draco's gut did a little hop of excitement. She hadn't really initiated a kiss before, and it took him a moment to regain his senses. But soon enough he was kissing her back, reaching up to cradle the back of her head and tugging her even closer.

Draco felt like he could quickly grow addicted to the joys of kissing Hermione. Her skin was silky soft and smelt wonderful. She made little mewling noises every time he sucked or nibbled on her bottom lip. And he liked the way she moved her hands tentatively as if she wasn't sure where to place them or how to touch him.

They kissed for what felt like an hour, just languidly exploring each other as they sat on the edge of the bed. Eventually he noticed that their bodies were a bit twisted in that position, so he pulled back.

"Want to get a bit more comfortable?" he asked, gesturing to the pile of pillows at the top of the bed. Hermione nodded sheepishly, watching him as he pushed himself back over the mattress to lean against the headboard. She kicked her slippers off and joined him, perching on her knees in front of him, an uncertain look on her face.

"Should I…um…" she began to ask, glancing down at his lap, and his gut did that little hop again.

"Come here," he coaxed. He pulled on her hand and directed her to sit astride his lap, before moving to grasp her hips and get her settled there. She stayed a little way back, resting with her legs spread over his thighs, her dressing gown splayed open. His hands twitched a bit at her hips.

"Is this okay?" he asked. Hermione's cheeks had turned a deep crimson colour, but she nodded silently and leaned in to kiss him again. Draco wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this was somehow so much better. While kissing Hermione was always fucking amazing, having her sitting straddled on his lap, surrounding him completely… it was bloody brilliant.

With a wave of boldness, he wrapped his arms further around her hips and tugged her closer still, so close that it felt like their whole bodies were pressed together. He could feel the warmth of her hips cradling him, a tantalising weight against his rapidly hardening length. In response, their kisses grew more intense, with tongues tangling and teeth nipping at skin.

Draco's hands wandered a bit, feeling her curves and tracing the edges and dips of her waist and arse. She hid a sinfully attractive body under all those starchy clothes. When he pushed a bit at her cotton pyjama top, lifting it to stroke at the skin of her stomach, Hermione froze.

"Wait-"

He instantly drew his hand away.

"Sorry," he mumbled, wondering if he'd crossed some invisible line. Hermione didn't meet his eye but spent a few seconds fidgeting and pulling her sleeves back down to her wrists from where they'd slipped up.

"No, it's fine. I just… I don't…um… can we please keep clothes on? Is that alright?"

Draco nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay," he agreed softly, kissing her again until he felt her relax once more. He didn't mind. Obviously he'd give away all the money in his Gringotts vault in a heartbeat just to see a few inches of her bare skin, but he'd take whatever he could get at this stage. He just wanted to be with her, however she liked. They continued for a while, their kisses growing heated once more. Keeping his hands firmly on the outside of her pyjamas, Draco looped his arms around her back and dragged her even closer, ensuring that their bodies would lock together in a perfect rhythm.

Hermione's lips faltered for a moment, but this time she didn't stop him. Instead, she shifted and wriggled against him, almost unconsciously. In doing so, she unknowingly rubbed against him more firmly. Draco couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips.

With a slight whimper of her own, Hermione did it again. Draco arched up into her, seeking the pressure of her centre against his hardness, which was now throbbing and begging for attention.

"Feel free to keep doing that," he mumbled against her lips with a smirk, enjoying the reciprocating downward thrust she gave in response. He heard a throaty chuckle and then they were kissing again like a couple of randy fourth years. As they did, she just kept…moving. Oh Merlin, moving just the way he wanted her to. She shifted a bit, trying to find the right angle, and then suddenly let out a strangled gasp. Her movements paused and then started up again with single-minded purpose.

She's getting off, he realised, his head spinning as his cock throbbed. She'd clearly found the right position to have him drag against her clit, and now she was chasing that feeling. Again and again.

Draco used his hold on her waist to encourage her motions, kissing her roughly at the same time. The tightness built. He slid his hands around to grasp her bottom, coaxing her to keep going, don't stop, just like that…

Holy shit. I think I'm going to…

Hermione whimpered and he felt her muscles tensing all around him, her thighs locking around his hips as she seemed to buck slightly. Draco tore himself away from her lips to curse loudly, his fingers digging into her arse. He was dizzy from breathing too heavily and his vision went blurry for a moment as he came, harder than he'd thought possible from just a little light, clothed rutting. It wasn't until he regained rational thought that he noticed the dampness sticking to the inside of his pants.

Well… that's a little embarrassing.

But as bashful as he felt about coming in his trousers like a pre-teen having his first wet dream, Draco was somewhat pacified by the fact that he didn't seem to be alone. After her tensing spasm, Hermione had gone kind of boneless, her arms and legs turning a bit limp as her breaths echoed his, fast and uneven.

Hermione Granger just got herself off grinding on top of me. This is the best fucking day of my life.

Eventually the witch leaned back. Her cheeks were a pretty shade of pink and her expression was sheepish.

"Um…that was… I didn't think I'd be able to… but then it felt… so I kept…" she was stammering adorably, her fingers grasping onto his shoulders as though they were anchoring her down. Draco smirked at her babbling. He interrupted her abruptly, leaning forwards and kissing her once more, softly on her bottom lip. Her voice was cut off with a strangled whimper and she quietly returned the kiss.

"Do you need to…um…" she started to mumble against his lips, awkwardly glancing down at his lap. Draco shot her a grimace and shrugged a bit self-consciously.

"Uhhhh… already did."

"Oh. Right."

Hermione blinked and shuffled backwards, putting some space between them. Then, just as always, she took her time straightening her clothes and smoothing down her hair where it had escaped the tight confines of her plaits.

She was so wonderfully predictable and so charmingly immaculate. And while Draco would love nothing more than to see her all ruffled up and to shag her so good that she became positively dishevelled, they weren't up to that yet. She was still holding back, and so was he.

While she re-tied her dressing down, Draco seized the chance to cast a quick cleaning charm down at the seat his pants.

"I suppose I should…go," she murmured, glancing reluctantly towards the door. Draco's pulse skipped and he grabbed the opportunity, leaning forwards to clasp her hand before she could leave the bed.

"Stay," he pleaded, trying not to worry about how pathetic he sounded, "just… stay. Not that I want to-" he blushed, wishing he was more eloquent. "We don't have to do anything else. We could just talk some more. Like last night."

Hermione cocked her head and regarded him curiously.

"Okay."

Draco's gut swooped.

"Okay?" he repeated hopefully, feeling pleased when she settled down more comfortably on the bed again.

"Yeh, okay. What do you want to talk about?"

Draco smiled, noticing that she hadn't let go of his hand. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, noticing how soft her skin was, how her fingers were long and elegant, but pockmarked with ink stains from writing all day.

"Who was your first kiss?" he finally blurted out, not sure what else to begin with. He'd barely scratched the surface last night. And he wanted to know everything. Every little piece she shared made him crave more. "Was it Weasel breath?" he prompted when she scrunched up her nose and blushed.

"Ron? Oh Merlin no. It was…um…Viktor Krum, actually."

Draco's eyes widened and he let out a huff, not at all intimidated that she'd previously kissed an international quidditch super star. Nope, not intimidated at all!

With a grin he mentally catalogued a series of follow-up questions he wanted to ask, settling in for a long conversation and a lot of good-natured teasing.

And if he refused to let go of her hand while they talked… well, he'd just pretend he hadn't noticed.

…

Adorably awkward Draco. Feeling all the feelings but just so stunted. Let me know what you'd like to happen next! I can't promise anything. I've got my own plans ;)