authorsnotes: chapter 20! and it is quite a chapter...
do enjoy and review
songrecs: you belong to me - cat pierce
also, check out this amazing dramione video by the same song: Draco & Hermione | You Belong To Me on YT, it is brilliant!
Lean back in, both stood now, he towers over her; when did he get so tall? And he glows, and gods had she ever noticed how bright it is? How pretty? It feels too juvenile a word, beautiful is better.
A beautiful glow that she doesn't realise she is now too bathed in.
Doesn't realise or doesn't notice.
Neither of them do as they step forward, closer, lean back in, step closer, inches away.
His nose brushes hers this time as he leans down to her, stooping his neck, as she goes up on tip toes.
She should stop, she should step away, attribute this to their proximity of sleeping next to him again, of that dizzying wonderful feeling of no pain, no discomfort, her body rushing with adrenaline and pleasure, and being so incredibly at ease that she could sink into a puddle.
And yet, it isn't just being at ease this time, no this time there is something curled in her stomach, something stronger than adrenaline, something more like what she imagines liquid luck feels like, sprinting through her body, making her bolder, making her step forward.
He must feel the same, Malfoy, Draco, must feel that boldness, that rush, because as she steps forward, he reaches for her.
It is almost embarrassing how quickly she goes into his arms.
And when he kisses her, how quickly she melts.
As soon as he descends on her, one arm going to her waist and tugging her to him, the other cupping her cheek, as hers wrap around his back for steadiness, and his lips find hers, nose brushes again, and then, and then, he's kissing her.
And Hermione knows, knows, this is as close to perfection as humans can possibly get.
A moan is ripped from her as soon as he kisses her, a shock of magic, a zap of it running up her spine, and his groan that mirrors her tells her he feels it too, tells her he is right there with her, and the satisfaction that gives her is so deep-seated she'll sure she'll never shake it free.
Never wants to.
He kisses her like a man dying of thirst and kissing her is the finest water he has ever drank. His lips move with hers, coaxing, gently at first, and then his tongue seeks entrance, licking over her lips, a little nip before he soothes, and then he is owning her, plunging into her, this is not just a kiss, this is possession.
Perfect.
In a blink (when did he get so fast?) he sweeps her onto the library table, sits her on it, and she spreads her legs to make room for him without even a second of hesitation, opens them so he can settle between (which he does, too without hesitation), both hands on her waist now, gripping hard, but with a gentle edge.
He'd never hurt her, he promised that, vowed it, and she believes him, believes him as surely as if he'd made an Unbreakable Vow, he won't hurt her, and so she melts into his arms with complete trust with ease.
"Malfoy" She whines as he descends on her lips again, he groans again as she tips her neck back so he can kiss her properly, meets his tongue with hers, tentatively at first, bolder as he encourages, squeezing her waist, coaxing with his tongue, making her squirm, wetness between her legs, her breathing heavy already.
And yet she won't stop, can't stop, can't.
And she knows Malfoy mirrors her in that.
They are practically feral.
No one else in the entire world, in that moment exists, not another soul but them matters.
For one of them, and increasingly the other it is already that way all the time, just now it is focused, the two of them scrabbling at one another, trading bruising kisses, a whimper, a groan, desperation, no one but each other.
In hindsight it had all been coming to this, rising, and meeting this peak, they should have expected it, anticipated it.
They hadn't, but now it was here they revelled in it.
Revelled in each other. Her legs a little parted so Malfoy could slot comfortably between them and he did, nestled right there, where he fitted. Her arms looped around his neck, pulling him down, he had to stoop a little (she could swear werewolf Malfoy had grown a few inches and had already been so much taller than her), but didn't seem to mind as her fingers wound through his hair, and his hands gripped her waist.
What was nice though, what made her thrum with pleasure was that though Malfoy gripped at her, held her hard, he was gentle in a sense. He grabbed at her waist but his fingers stroked, he gripped her hips but in pulling her too him nudged her rather than caught her. He was gentle, as though she were something breakable in her hands, that he was treating with the utmost care.
It made her heart swell as he swept his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking entrance, which she allowed with joy.
She had never felt this way before, not just the squirming inbetween her legs and the way her heart was beating like a hummingbirds, yes she had never been so turned on in her life, but it wasn't just that, it was a deep sense of something else inside of her, in her heart, that had her leaning in and melting into Malfoys embrace.
Trust yes, but something more, something deeper.
Something that carried on and on, neither wanting to stop, both panting but unable nor wanting to tear themselves away from one another, it was the bond at play but it was more than that, it was Draco and Hermione, not wanting this to stop.
And when it did and they pressed their foreheads together, panting, hearts racing clutching at one another, they didn't flee, or run or even worry.
They smiled.
And they were lost.
So lost neither of them really noticed the golden mist swirling around them, dancing in the beams of the library, spreading to flicker against the window, circling them and them alone.
Malfoy's eyes remained gold, stained with it almost, taking over his original grey, but that didn't make her flinch or draw back, instead she was drawn in, her eyes sliding shut and his as they simply absorbed one another, revelled in one another.
Lost.
The weekend passed quickly.
With no lessons it was harder to see one another in the day, and yet the ache … the usually tension between her shoulders, the headache that would come on when away from Malfoy, even the twinges in her arms and legs, the tiredness … it was dulled.
Even as the Saturday came to a close, the boys in rainy Quidditch practice all day, she and Luna sharing a table at the library, she didn't feel nearly as bad as she would day to day.
It was strange, she hadn't seen Malfoy all day, and yet she felt somehow better, somehow less painful than the school days where they'd brush hands and at least be able to look at each other.
And it wasn't hard to guess why.
As she met him in the library that night, hidden in the back once again, her heart fluttering, she was tired, and a headache had started, her hands a little sore too, but it wasn't much, wasn't agony.
And yet, still she went into his arms willingly.
She wasn't sure who started the kiss this time, no pre-amble, no talk, not even a snarky comment from Malfoy or a sarcastic one from her.
They are simply on each other.
Her arms around his neck, gathering in him closer, her hands winding into his hair, her fingers toying with the fair hairs at his nape, scratching there, eliciting a groan.
His hands find her waist, frame her there, pulling her flush with him, not an inch of space between them, not even a slither for either to be separate.
Almost as though they are one person, or trying to be.
Or one soul in two bodies.
Their lips meet, in a crushing kiss, neither has time to sit, or move, he doesn't sweep the books off the table this time but backs her up to the wall in the back of the stacks, pushes her against it, books at her back, Malfoy at her front, and she squirms, her thighs rubbing together, a needy little moan leaving her lips.
His fingers dig into her waist, a little rougher than before, not that she minds, tipping her head back because he is too damn tall, on tip toes to reach him, tugs his hair a little, shivers as he growls, presses herself closer and closer.
Even a week ago she couldn't have imagined this with him, disliked him, still does probably, but ever since that first taste …
It is like she is driven wild for it.
And she knows he feels the same.
Doesn't question in that moment if she knows he feels the same, or can actually feel that he does, but that comes later.
It is probably too much, to be grinding against him now the way she is, his lips have moved, found her neck, lick and kiss there, and then bite, the blood vessels popping to surface in a brilliant explosion of purple, marking her.
Mark me. Her mind growls at her, and she knows she is lost.
Still doesn't stop.
Doesn't want to stop.
Wouldn't have.
If not stopped.
"Students fraternising in my library!" The familiar hawkish voice of Madam Prince is what rips them apart, not the need for oxygen, not a come to realisation moment that this is a bad idea, no, it is the librarian who shrieks at them, and Hermione is only glad they are buried in the back stacks of the library and hopefully not overhead.
They stumble apart from one another, and Hermione's cheeks bloom red, she glances at Malfoy who has two pink spots on his cheeks now, but she can only look at his eyes, more gold than silver, she is just thankful she is apparently the only one that can see the glow that surrounds him, as it is dazzling.
"I expected better from you Miss Granger! Do not make me tell Professor McGonagall about this!" Madam Prince berated, "20 points from Gryffindor, and Mr Malfoy I catch you doing this again I'll take it straight to your Head of House, 20 points from Slytherin! Do you understand me?!"
They both nod quickly, and Madam Prince glares at them both, Hermione quickly gathers her bag, Malfoy does the same and they hurry out, evidently not trusted to stay.
Her hands are shaking as she hurries into the main library, head down, ignoring Malfoy and Madam Prince, though she can see a few people looking, wondering why Madam Prince is escorting Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy of all people out of the library.
She keeps her head down and practically flees her one safe space.
Malfoy follows.
She plans to run, plans to hide, but then before she can even turn towards Gryffindor Tower as Madam Prince ushers them out and practically slams the door, she can feel Malfoys hand on her upper arm, quickly pulling her into a nearby broom closet; so cliché, but she follows.
She follows.
And then his lips are on hers again.
And it feels like falling into oblivion.
She wants to let herself crumple into his arms, finds herself gripping at his shirt, him pressing her back into the door, her head thudding against the wood as his lips find her neck.
Her protests near die on her lips, but she manages to get a few out, "We can't" She whines, "We shouldn't be doing this"
"Granger" Malfoy says inbetween kisses against her neck, her collarbone, even her ear, as she squirms against him, as he slots his thigh inbetween her legs, as she squirms and chases friction, as wrong as it is, she can't stop herself.
Doesn't want to really.
"For once don't overthink things" He urges her, and she tips her head back, whining needily against him, her fingers finding his hair again, it is so soft she can't help but dig her fingers into it, find purchase there and tug, to which Malfoy lets out a throaty growl, and she moans in response.
They are lost in each other.
And she knows deep deep down, it is not just the bond yes that is certainly driving it, but she knows, and even secretly hopes that part of it is just that they are getting on better, maybe liking each other more, as mad as that sounds.
Does she still dislike Draco Malfoy? It certainly doesn't feel like it as he licks a stripe up her neck, and then nips at her skin there, making her move her head so her lips can find his again.
Neither can see that they are lighting up the closet with their joined glow, bright and golden.
Perfect.
A thud against the closet door has them breaking apart. Thankfully it is just a thud, someone running past, but it is enough to make her come back to her senses, at least for a moment.
"Fuck" She says, tipping her head back as Malfoy takes a step back, thankfully seeming to have a momentary clear head alongside her.
"I didn't know you could curse" He teases, and she rolls her eyes but it is good natured.
It, like all of this, is different.
This isn't them, swapping secret kisses in a broom closet, teasing one another, going mad for each other, this is not who they are, either separately or together, and yet here they are, both breathing heavily, fizzing with desire, and both just about resisting the urge to clamber back into each other's arms.
"I have to go" She says, stumbles over her words, reaches for the knob of the door, knows if she doesn't leave now she will do something she regrets. She feels Malfoy nod in the space, and she nods too, glad they are on the same page.
And yet, as she goes to open the door, Malfoy slams it closed with his palm next to her head, she jumps, but he is quick to explain, "Meet me tomorrow, here, first thing" He says.
"Its Hogsmeade weekend this weekend" She replies, "I don't want to miss it"
"We won't be able to see each other" He says, and though she knows that, of course she knows they can't be seen in public together, is just thankful no one has seemed to mention his outburst in defending her in Defence, but feels a twang of something anyway, a pang of regret perhaps.
What is this becoming?
"Meet me an hour before we're due back" He says, "Around the side of the Shrieking Shack"
She nods, she doesn't need to ask why; research, just to be in each others presence, perhaps more of this; she'll come.
"And Hermione?" He pauses her as she reaches for the doorknob again, says her real name, that makes her flinch this time, even more than the slam of the door, odd.
"Yes?" She asks, wetting her lips with her tongue, trembling just a touch, she feels so out of sorts, not tired and achy like when she is away from Malfoy, not even overly energetic and almost high as she does after sleeping next to him, this is something else, something rawer, something … intense.
"Sleep well tonight"
And then somehow before she can leave he is reaching past her, opening the door and slipping out, giving her a moment to sink against the doorframe and try to find some equilibrium.
Try as she brushes her fingers to her bottom lip, and both smiles, and near sinks to the floor in fear.
What is this?
They'll soon find out.
its all going wilddddd
hogsmeade next and some unexpected surprises
do review if you can
speak soon