Warning: sexual content ahead.

Ch.26: The Submission

"You're certain we won't get in trouble for this?"

"Positive. Everything is handled downstairs and as of approximately," he trailed off, glancing down at his timepiece, "five minutes ago, I'm officially free for the rest of the evening." Together, they ascended to the second floor, wandering through one dark hallway after another until they stood in front of grand double doors well over twice her height.

"What if your mother needs you?"

"My mother is under the impression that I don't feel well." Hermione arched a brow, pretending not to be enthralled as with a touch of his fingertips, a series of mechanisms began to sound from the other side as they were unlocked from within.

"What gave her that impression?"

"Being the attentive mother she is, she could see that I'd been off all evening," he tossed back, smirking at her. Even if she found the words, she didn't have a chance to retort. Because when he pushed the doors open, she lost the ability to breathe.

"You—you can't be serious. This isn't—" she stumbled over her loss for words as she walked inside, unable to tear her gaze from the sight before her. Until finally, she faced him. "Malfoy?"

Draco smirked, clearly pleased with her reaction.

"Welcome to the family library, Granger."

Like a first year in Ollivander's, she took in the large area with awe and wonder. Towering walls three stories high filled to the brim with books of all ages, shapes and sizes. Further inside, an elegant spiral staircase led up to a second level halfway up to an emerald fireplace and a seating area by the window overlooking the courtyard, all held behind a magically engraved wood railing. A place she could easily see herself spending her afternoons in. Already, she began to plot out her route and methods to obtain maximum coverage from one night. All to come to the realization she couldn't realistically cover this much ground in one night.

"I'm never leaving your house," she breathed in disbelief.

He laughed, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"You say that, but I'm willing to bet you wouldn't last a week of missing class."

Walking further inside, she stepped up to the closest bookstack, running her fingers along the aged novels and feeling the embossment on the spines. Finding many familiar titles from having read them previously or word of mouth. There were even more that were unfamiliar to her, works that dated back centuries, likely belonging to Draco's ancestors from long ago.

"I—I don't know where to start."

"You can always come back another time if you'd like." Her head whipped around to find him leaning against the archway at the entrance, hands in his pockets and entirely content with watching her explore. An equally— if not, more—enticing sight compared to the one which surrounded her.

"Would I need to schedule ahead of time?" He arched a brow at her and she clarified. "Surely you have friends or other family members who use this library?"

His eyebrows pulled up, his mouth widening into a debonair smirk as he stepped off from the wall and sauntered further into the room.

"You think Blaise and Theo would come here on their own free will to read?"

"Who said I was talking about them? What about Crabbe or Goyle? Surely even they knew how to read, right?" She asked with a coy smile when he snorted.

"Funny you mention that. I was curious about that myself when Goyle told me he'd been reading during Second," he said while eyeing her pointedly. "After I caught him wearing glasses."

"Maybe he didn't want to inform you of a sight impediment."

"That would imply he knew what an 'impediment' was."

"You're terrible!" She chortled, grinning widely while turning back to admire the books nearby on a shelf. Who would have thought a family Pureblooded wizards with narrowminded views and sticks up their arses actually had good taste in literature?

"You didn't have those two as lackeys," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "They were hardly passable on a good day."

"Well, I'd say you definitely made a wise decision with your latest choice in companions. I can tell you even care for them," she said, pleased as he scoffed in disgust.

"Not this again," Draco groaned.

"Come on now," she countered sternly, turning to admonish him. "When's the last time you told either of them how much they mean to you?"

"Never."

"Unbelievable," she mumbled, continuing to wander and occasionally plucking a title of interest to examine, mentally marking it for a later time.

"Most people don't sit around and talk about our feelings, Granger. Especially not us. Less uncomfortable for everyone that way."

"It wouldn't kill you to appreciate the fact that you have wonderful people in your life every once in a while."

"For a time, yes, it would have." Her page flipping movements stopped when she grew still. "Regardless, I was practically trained to be incapable of it."

"What about before?" she implored after a beat.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Before what?"

She closed the book and placed it back on its shelf. "Before you became an occlumens."

He faltered, and his jaw tightened.

"What are you really asking, Granger?"

Despite their decision to keep their relationship secret for the time being, she felt that she, too, had come to know him in the mere minutes they would get to interact outside of their journals. She'd noticed at the end of lecture the way he would retract from incidentally putting a hand at the small of her back. Or how they timed their leaving class to be far enough apart so as to not raise suspicion. This was the first time in weeks they'd had to truly be alone. Nothing left to hold them back from allowing themselves to simply want aside from each other.

"You and Pansy," she decided, when he finally broke their gaze. Noticing his hands that were once hanging loosely were now clenched tightly into fists. "I want to know what happened at the ball."

His head snapped to her.

"She didn't tell you?"

She shook her head.

"Blaise?"

She shook her head again.

Draco let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair out of irritation. "Perhaps I do need to showcase my appreciation more."

"Pansy gave a crude summary. Regardless, I'd rather hear it from you," she added, hating the way her heart began to pick up as he regarded her, searching inside her. She wanted to look away, protect herself from whatever it was he was trying to find. But he wouldn't need legilimency to find the truth. The vulnerability. Her fear and insecurity that came with not knowing.

"Mitzy?" With a snap of his fingers, a house-elf appeared. Fully adorned in proper clothing. Even a pair of embroidered house slippers.

"You called, Master?"

"A handle of Ogden's and a sobering potion if you're able."

"Certainly, sir. Shall I fetch anything for the missus?" Both looked to Hermione for a response, who was very much caught off guard.

"Oh! I'm not—no, I-I'm good. Thank you, Mitzy." Giving her a gracious nod, he vanished with a pop. A blanket of silence fell between them.

"Before you start hexing my balls off," he began, "he is free and is here entirely of his own choosing."

Hermione stared at him. Her surroundings moving far too quickly for her to process anything appropriately.

"Thank you for the transparency," she said softly, just as the elf returned with the requested items.

"Ah, much appreciated. Thank you."

Grinning widely, Mitzy quickly nodded, dismissing himself before he vanished once more.

Hermione watched Draco pour himself a glass, downing its contents in a matter of seconds before pouring another.

"What are you doing?"

He winced at the second pass. "Preparing for an uncomfortable conversation." Letting the amber liquid settle, he set down the empty glass and made several wandless gestures to dim the lights. Hermione jerked her head around when a gentle melodic sound started. Was that...music? In a library?

"Well? Are you going to dance with me or not?"

She turned back to face him where a hand extended out to her. She watched him carefully, considering his offer and motive for doing so before firing back.

"Can you even dance?" She watched with amusement as he permitted a moment to indulge his absolute indignation and surprise at the question.

"Can I dance?" he echoed in mock-offense, scoffing while swiftly grabbing her hand and pulling her into him. "Remind me to punish you later for daring to question my upbringing."

Hermione swallowed thickly, certainly not thinking about the implications that often came with his loose interpretation of punishment. Certainly not fixating on the heat emanating from his hand at the small of her back. Directly over the closure of her dress. Deciding to focus her thoughts elsewhere, she conjured a few spare candles around the room as her own hands settled — one on his shoulder, the other in his steady grip. The flicker of the flames brought a warmth and intimacy to the large space. Where they were safely surrounded and enclosed by barriers of books and the scent of aging parchment. It provided them their own little world, where it narrowed their focus to each other.

Eight steps.

That was how many it took for their strides to fall in sync.

As wizards, their wands were often associated as extensions of themselves, and their magical abilities. In this instance, their bodies became an extension of each other as they glided across the large, open section of the library. She felt dauntless and unyielding in his secure hold and it showed in their execution as Draco took the lead.

As they moved in unison to the steady beat of the music, their movements and coordinating garments blended them into a wondrous display of elegance.

"Well?" The low rumble of his voice came minutes later and vibrated into her, disrupting the haze of daydreams for her to fade back to reality. At some point, they'd shifted their positions so she was pressed against his chest, breathing in his crisp cologne.

He really was a remarkable dancer.

And how she wanted to loathe him for it.

"Could be better," she decided, seemingly unimpressed and unwilling to give him the satisfaction. What came next happened quicker than she could process. Before she knew it, there was a slight sting from where he'd promptly swatted her arse. Out of instinct, Hermione pulled back in his hold until a handsome smirk came into view.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, and Draco's grin only widened when he saw bright, ruddy cheeks.

"Oh? Someone likes that, doesn't she?" He inquired with a teasing lilt.

"No!" Hermione squeaked with a darkening flush. "I wasn't expecting it, is all."

"Is that so?" he tutted, raising a single brow. "Well unless you'd like another, I suggest you start speaking in truth."

"You're exceptional, you pompous arse," she retorted, sticking her tongue at him. "Truthfully, I'd expect nothing less from someone as...exemplary as yourself."

He snickered, tightening his grip on her waist. "Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"It's however you interpret it to be," she retorted cheekily.

"Gods, you're insufferable," he chuckled, reverting back to their original position. Their shared levity faded as the songs transitioned, one after the other when the music took over again.

"Remember that you asked for this," he said suddenly, a seriousness etched in his voice. Hermione blinked thoughtfully at him.

"I understand—"

"—and know that while I was the worst to you, my behavior towards my friends was far from amiable."

With that, there was a twinge of vulnerability in his voice. A hope that she wouldn't judge him too harshly despite having been the target of his cruelty for years. She could feel the steady thumping of his heartbeat as he regarded her, searching her expression. Making her choice, Hermione stood on her tiptoes, nudging his nose lightly with her own as a notion of encouragement. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"For as long as I can remember, Pansy's always had feelings for me," he began softly. "I'm sure you've come to realize those feelings were not reciprocated, given my—"

"—emotional range of a teaspoon?" Hermione blurted, feeling him mentally juggle over what she'd said.

"I suppose that's as good an analogy as any," he said in a laugh, a light huff hitting her hair. "We started dating in Third and to start, she was no help with homework but we did have a good snog every now and then. She seemed happy with the arrangement."

"What about you?" Her voice was ever-so-faint. "Were you happy?"

"I was thirteen and had a girlfriend who practically worshipped me. My parents tolerated her well enough and others envied me for what I had. In my eyes, I had everything," he shared, and his faint smile faded away. "The night of the ball, we got into a heated argument—" Hermione's brow furrowed when a faint image of him and Pansy having a heated altercation that evening came to fruition. "Unfortunately, it ended up resonating with me throughout the whole night. Crabbe spiked the pumpkin juice and after having a few too many, Pans and I started arguing again and ended up in the nearest broom closet where we—" he cut off, grimacing at the thought and tensing altogether.

Taking a chance, she reached upwards and began to stroke his hair. Noticing the motions seemed to make him calmer, she continued the rhythmic motion as they moved to the accompanying melodies.

"I didn't find out until after the potion Crabbe used had mind blurring extract designed to intensify the consumer's pre-existing emotion and desire. For Pansy, it did what it was meant to do. Me, on the other hand," he broke off with a dark chuckle and it didn't take long for the implications to click.

"It made you more aggressive," she realized.

"I knew I was being far too rough but I couldn't control it. And Pans wasn't in the right state of mind to stop me even if she wanted to," he admitted somberly. Despite her unease, her hold on him only tightened. "Blaise ended up finding us halfway, forcing sobering potions on us after wrenching us apart. She passed out shortly after."

"Did she remember what happened?" Conflicting relief arose when he shook his head.

"At the time, no. All she recalled was our fight and having made up with the 'shag of a lifetime.' After that night, I ignored her advances and ended up hurting her in the process. Even then, she was foolish enough to continue worrying about me after I pledged myself to a death sentence," he sighed heavily, forcing the physical — and metaphorical — weight to remain upon him. She could tell he'd been anticipating her hold to loosen or for her to break didn't move an inch.

"Does she know now?" Hermione tread slowly.

He nodded slowly.

"And still, she chose to come and support you tonight."

"Like I said. Foolish."

"It's not foolish, Malfoy," Hermione rectified, never believing she'd see a day where she was defending Pansy Parkinson to Draco Malfoy.

"It's certainly not wise," he combated swiftly.

"No one ever said emotions were logical. Regardless, you shouldn't beat yourself up for something that's happened in the past."

Wry smiles presented themselves at the irony.

"Pansy's obviously forgiven you." She pulled back to meet his gaze. "Why shouldn't you forgive yourself?"

With a sigh, she could see tension slip away from his shoulders, if only slightly.

"But there is something I don't understand." In an instant, she felt the tension return. "If you didn't feel that way about Pansy, would the potion have taken effect in the first place? Clearly you felt some form of desire to have sexual intercourse with her to begin with—" His expression went incredulous. "So either you're lying about how you felt about her or—"

We were young and so fucking stupid. Him, for thinking he could fool himself. And me, for believing what we had was real.

Hermione could feel the moment all air left her lungs when she looked up and found Draco staring back with unease in his gaze, "—you desired someone else." Her words were heavy in the space between them and capable of slicing through many realms at once.

"You said you had an argument earlier that night," she calculated, recalling lingering gazes and matching scowls directed at her when she'd passed by them with Viktor in tow.

Meanwhile, he nonchalantly pulled her back into his chest, resuming their slow dancing as her voice gradually grew higher in pitch. "It wasn't…I wasn't—?"

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest into her own.

"You asked when things changed for me," he prompted curtly. "Well technically speaking—"

"Since Fourth?! You've fancied me since Fourth year?"

"I didn't 'fancy' you," he amended, grimacing. "It was more of an undesired attraction."

"You're telling me that all of a sudden, one day—" she gasped. "Was it because I hit you?" She deadpanned.

"No! That's not—" he began defensively before stopping abruptly, clearing his throat. "It wasn't sudden and it didn't happen in one day. It was excruciating. A long, strenuous," he let in a deep inhale, "painful process."

"So it was because I hit you?" She inquired, raising a brow.

"I didn't say that," he quipped sharply with a light flush.

"All those times you were a complete and total arsehole," Hermione muttered in amazement as she thought back to Fourth. "At the world cup, with the Death Eaters—"

She heard him chuckle and watched him shake his head at something running through his head.

"I told you to keep your bushy head down, didn't I?"

"You took away points for me being a Muggleborn!" She exclaimed, unsure of how to process this new information. Then she remembered what they were discussing previously, prompting her to release a groan of disgust. "Oh gods, you thought about me when you were shagging someone else," she said, half-horrified and half-flattered. Meanwhile, the corners of his lips slowly pried back into a wry smirk.

"It seems despite what I tried to convince myself, I've always been inclined to turbulent, haughty bookworms." The protest in her throat diminished when he studied her warily. A silent question lingering in smoldering, silver pools.

Considering what he'd disclosed to her thus far, Hermione decisively broke away from the embrace to retrieve the last item Mitzy left, holding it out for him. A deep sigh left him as he took the vial and drank the sobering potion all at once. He groaned at the burn, as it was notorious for being worse than most spirits.

Biting back a witty remark, she stared at him with sympathy and mild amusement as he seemed to belatedly comprehend their circumstances; the part of himself he'd just laid bare to her.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel...regrettably sober and vulnerable."

"But in control?"

He blinked, the residual haze fading away. He nodded.

"Yes."

Hermione hummed, satisfied with his response.

"Good."

She dove for him.

As their lips connected for the first time in weeks, heat unfurled wildly inside her chest. In return, she felt a low rumble from his throat, managing to send shivers throughout her body as he let himself mitigate and fall into her.

The accumulated tension and newly shared knowledge only provided fuel to the flickering flames. As the ache in her lower abdomen grew, so did her desperation. With the hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, she was able to control the angles and the depth. Quick as Draco was, it wasn't long before he matched her aggression, his own hands finding purpose in her hair.

"Malfoy," she panted into his mouth, the momentary parting allowed him to break away and trail heated kisses along her jaw. Her eyes were half lidded, all logic and reason rapidly fading to bliss. Every inhale, despite being easier to take in, was taut. Too strained. She arched her back, desperate for more. For him. Her hands gripped his arms through the sleeves of his suit jacket. Quickly transitioning from admiring it on him to cursing its presence.

Her body tensed as a soft, fluttering sound snatched her attention.

"Ignore it. It's just Saphira," he mumbled, clearly undeterred.

"Saphira?"

"My owl," Draco clarified as she glanced over his shoulder. On a nearby window sill sat an eagle owl, staring directly at them. Or rather, directly at her.

Hermione furrowed her brow and straightened out her posture to get a better look, much to his displeasure.

"Eagle owls are extremely rare," she implored, fully stepping away from him and closer to the attentive night-bird who had yet to break their gaze. "Interesting that both you and Harry have them."

"His owl came from my family. My mother anonymously gifted her to him after the trials," he hinted, arching a perfect brow when she reached to pet her. The fog slowly faded as his words sank.

"They're siblings," she noted, fascinated by the way the owl anticipated her movements and reacted with soft coos to her light petting.

Clearly, this owl was familiar with her.

When realization dawned upon her, she made a beeline for the set of bookshelves she recalled as the fiction section. Bemused, gray eyes followed her as she scanned the stacks.

"Granger?"

"P...P...P..."

She didn't notice when he picked up on what she was searching for. She didn't notice him tense up when she found it. Hermione drew a sly grin and turned to look at him.

"This is certainly a surprise."

In his wondrous display of novels, he had the entire collection of A. Penmenski books. Including a series he claimed to detest. Well, almost the entire series. There was a gap at the end of 'Black Roses' section where a book appeared to be missing. A book he claimed to never have owned that she now coincidentally possessed.

Draco shrugged, avoiding eye contact as she walked up to him with a slight sway in her hips. "I'm a collector of sorts."

"You're rather rubbish at it. You seem to be missing a book."

"Anyone with the times knows the last book is reasonably difficult to get," he quipped, feigning indifference.

"So you've gone through the trouble of finding it then?"

"Like I said, I'm a collector of sorts."

"For someone who isn't a fan of A. Penmenski, you sure have a funny way of showing it," she leaned closer to whisper as he placed his hands firmly on her waist. "You lied to me," she accused, though the smile on her face said she was anything but upset.

He cleared his throat and whispered back, "I may have fibbed a tad."

"So you don't think his novels are 'redundant and romanticized'," she emphasized smugly and he groaned aloud.

"It nearly killed me to make such an audacious statement." He leaned down closer to speak low and deep. "But something tells me it was worth it." Glistening, bright brown met icy, sharp silver, and any residual tension stood zero chance when their lips in a slow, drawn out kiss.

She pulled back slightly with a bashful grin. "I could always give it back?"

"Absolutely not. It was a gift," he waved off. "Besides, I've got another copy coming."

"Is the spine gold trimmed?" Hermione retorted.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "The release date for the gold edition won't be announced for at least another year," he quipped, nuzzling the crook of her neck. "Do keep up, love—"

"Spoiled git," she gasped sharply, lacking any heat. In fairness, she'd been waiting for ages for this. Not just for this moment alone with him. But to be free and able to simply feel without worrying about anything else. No murderous wizards. No childish fears. No suffering consequences resulting from a ridiculous plan conjured up by her friends...

No obligations.

No distractions.

No potion.

It then dawned upon her what Blaise meant by 'Potion child.'

Best of all, no worries over what had yet to come. The only thing she wanted to focus on was...

"Malfoy?" He hummed, and she fought a whimper as the subtle vibrations trembled through her. "Would you say tonight constitutes as a proper date?" She managed breathlessly at the sight of him halting in his actions and his eyes flashing.

"I would certainly think so."

"I'd like to thank you for the quill and the book," she expressed breathily. "Properly."

"Is that so?" He purred in a teasing lilt. "What did you have in mind?"

Once Hermione stepped inside, Draco closed the door behind them, locking it with a sound click and leaning against it. He stood with his arms crossed as she continued to survey the room, admiring how it set apart from the rest of the Manor. Clean. Not overly decorated. Bookshelves adorned with a modest blend of classics and modern works. A marble fireplace. A set of double doors which lead out to a balcony. A large, four poster bed dressed with luxurious sheets, including an identical cashmere blanket she remembered from his bed at Hogwarts.

A giggle burst free from her.

"What?"

She looked back at him, smiling wryly.

"Your bedroom. It's very predictable," she laughed, tossing her bag on his bed while leaning against one of the posts. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed off from the door, closing in on her. Along the way, he shrugged his suit jacket from his shoulders.

Merlin, save her.

In conjunction with her harboring nerves, her hunger for him grew. Judging by his sly smile as he fiddled with his cufflinks, he was well aware of the fact.

The moment she realized how real this was when he moved on to the waistcoat.

And with a flick, her internal candle was lit.

"Allow me," she blurted, hardly believing those words escaped her lips. Neither could he, apparently. His hands froze halfway to his collar. Silver eyes blown wide and darkened all in one breath. The tether between them had been stretched to its limits and there was nothing left for it to do but be snapped back together; which was exactly what happened.

Throwing caution to the wind, they met halfway and collided in a heated tangle of limbs, the rest of their restraint falling in shards around them along with the rest of the world.

Waistcoat quickly abandoned, she tugged at the knot of his tie around his neck and with a few pulls, managed to yank it free before starting on the buttons of his dress shirt.

Unfortunately, taking control didn't make the nagging feeling at the back of her head go away.

She wanted him. More than that, she wanted it to be good for him; for both of them. But that would involve laying entirely bare in front of a person she held a complex past with not even a year prior. Her and Ron didn't so much as experimented with each others bodies for they never extended past the standard transaction of sex. How could she do it with Malfoy when she could hardly get through it with Ron? Someone she harbored feelings for for as long as she could rememb—?

"Granger?" Draco inquired upon sensing her hesitation.

"N-nothing. It's nothing." Hermione worried her bottom lip before he caught it with his thumb, gingerly swiping her cheek before bending to press a kiss to her lips. Her heart hammered in her throat as she stiffened slightly. Just enough that she knew he'd notice.

"Doesn't feel like nothing," he whispered, pulling back and narrowing his eyes at her. "Do you wish to stop?"

"No. Of course not." She gave an unconvincing scoff, trying not to focus ruddy lips or on the sliver of skin from his partially opened shirt.

"What happened to the assertive witch who would've had her way with me in the Restricted Section if I hadn't stopped her?"

"That was different."

Draco frowned.

"You know I won't take this lightly, Granger. I've got all evening," he reminded, unconvinced.

"I do want to—with you—" she emphasized, the words slipping through like cracks in glass.

"But?" he prompted, and as she tilted her chin up, he let his drop. Silently toying with the distance between them.

"I never told you the other part of why Ron and I ended things," she began nervously. Despite looking far from comfortable by the sudden shift of topics, he said nothing. "The first and last time I did this was with him over the summer. Not to downplay our first experience or his abilities but it left things very...awkward between us."

The corner of his lips quirked.

"That bad, eh?"

Hermione felt a wave of satisfaction when he grunted in pain and rubbed his arm where she smacked him. She took the opportunity to start pacing back and forth. Then, the words started spewing out before she could stop them.

"It was all my fault," she blurted, catching them both off guard. "I'd been preoccupied for weeks with the trials and we'd become distant so it seemed like the perfect solution. Except I couldn't get comfortable and he had trouble keeping it up so we spent most of it fumbling about around like a pair of bumbling idiots," she confessed in hysterics. Draco remained silent, watching her with an unwavering gaze. "My letter showed up a week later and I couldn't say yes fast enough. We avoided discussing it for months. And it wasn't for lack of trying. I sent letter after fucking letter but clearly, he'd moved on. He still won't tell me who he's seeing." She let out a harsh laugh. "And despite how utterly embarrassing this is for me, I feel like I should tell you because—" she trailed off to see his steely gaze fixed on her.

What if I'm not what you expected?

What if you change your mind about me?

He continued to watch her in silence, analyzing her. She could only imagine how ridiculous she must have looked. Disheveled and rambling her insecurities in the middle of the bedroom of a man she never considered until recently. Yet, here he was watching and attentively listening to her like she was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on. She remained still as he approached her, placing his hands firmly on her waist, allowing her to feel the heat of him through the thick fabric of their dress clothes.

"Obviously, I can't speak for Weasley," Draco tread lowly. "But I can tell you that regardless of what happens tonight, I won't be disappointed."

"You sound so certain," she huffed in a cruel laugh, doubtful. Her eyes falling to focus on the creases of his shoes.

When he caught her chin and forced her to look up at him, she was pinned under his silver gaze. The pale moonlight gleaming through the window cast onto them in a luminescent glow. Hermione held her breath as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

"I've envisioned these moments with you for ages," he admitted gravelly. "Allow me to emphasize in case this was not made clear, but nothing comes close to reality."

The subsequent kiss was slow and gentle at first. Then urgent. And in no time, became breathtaking and sensational. It wasn't a clumsy collision like she'd known with others before, but rather a release of pent up emotion and unbridled passion. They parted so that their lips were barely touching.

"How's about it, Granger?" His voice was thick and gravelly, burning her insides like fine whisky. "Care to continue exceeding my fantasies?"

As her nerves gave way, she felt that familiar desperation clawing its way from her core to the pit of her stomach. She was trembling again, but from want and need instead of anxiety. Instinctively, she arched her back, pressing onto her heels and pushing her heaving chest into him until she felt him hit the edge of the bed. The more she found comfort in his elegant features — a soft smile, glistening eyes, a boyish laugh — she found herself just as affected by imagining the sudden switch he would make when he inevitably took her — desperate, hard kisses, a gaze with a blazing fire within them, and deep, husky pleasure riddled groans hitting repeatedly against heated skin.

Using their new position as leverage, she tested the waters by grinding into him and earning a low hiss.

With another rub against him, she felt the floodgates open as confidence led her down the path towards pleasure and bliss. Before she could lower herself back down again, he had dropped his hands to her behind, pressing her against the growing hardness in his trousers.

"Granger," his voice was low and crisp and effortlessly neutral as he let his warm lips trail along her ear. Tentatively, she took his hands in hers and raising them slightly until they landed on a metal tab.

He could feel the goosebumps along her back as he gripped the tab and drew it down. The sound of her zipper releasing was obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room but neither of them felt put off. Instead, it only heightened their anticipation. She groaned at his painfully slow pace and Draco quirked a brow.

"Eager, are we?"

She rolled her eyes as he brushed the sleeves off her shoulders and down her arms. His gaze was steady when the dress was lowered to her waist. When they left her face, the silver began to recede.

"Contrary to popular belief, black's never been my favorite color," he drawled, a single finger tracing the lace edge of her previously glamoured bra, "but you just might change my mind." He eyed the garment hungrily before he bent down to lavish the newly exposed skin.

"Please," she strained.

He continued along, taking hold of a strap and tugging it down until the lace gave way to a hardened peak. Heated eyes took her in while he dragged a thumb over the nipple. Then, he took it into his mouth.

At the light suction, a gasp forced out at the unfamiliar, yet welcome, sensation. She felt him grin smugly against her breast.

His lips pulled and tugged, releasing a new set of shockwaves throughout her body. She needed to be preoccupied. Needed something to do with her hands. Something to keep herself from—

"Stop it," he mumbled against her breast.

"What?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Don't think," he commanded, lowering her other strap. "Just feel."

She gasped, tightening her hold even further when he latched. All she could do was mumble half coherent curse words as he alternated between slow, teasing flicks of his tongue, and taking a nipple in his mouth and suckling.

Her eyes closed, focusing on the feel of him. His hands. His wicked tongue. His thigh pressing between her legs. Until a newfound urge came through. She stood abruptly, pushing him to sit back onto the bed completely and taking the spare second free to peel her gown off the rest of the way. Her heels followed suit.

Unable to tear his gaze away, Draco watched as she crawled on top of him like a succubus stalking her victim, left in matching undergarments and her bra askew. Hermione straddled his lap and did away with the remaining buttons to his shirt. When she went to push it from his shoulders, a larger, pale hand came up to stop her, temporarily breaking the spell.

All previous signs of arousal had been placed on a brief halt. A steel mask in place to shield her from what he concealed. At her questioning glance, he sighed. Then his hesitant eyes drifted to his left arm. Her eyes widened; it seemed he forwent the need for a glamour charm tonight.

"I don't care," she assured, using her free hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. "I want to see you. All of you."

With attentive eyes she could feel piercing into the depths of her, he eventually nodded.

Her hands followed the parts of the shirt as she pushed it back and off. As the crisp fabric fell away, Hermione felt desire pool when he sat up to peel it back the rest of the way, swallowing at the sight of his sculpted, unmarked figure. Where the years of training and Quidditch practice made themselves apparent. Her hands drifted and explored, finding their way across planes of muscles before trailing down his arms. Keeping his focus until her fingertips snagged along marred flesh. Only then did she look down. Pristine skin had been obstructed by pink, raw lines from where his mark fought him.

Bringing his arm up to her face, she dragged her lips across the scar tissue. The skin was smoother than she expected. Hermione closed her eyes, darting her tongue out to taste him. A tender caress for what he'd endured, finding nothing but sweetness and an insatiable impulse to taste everywhere he'd permit. A sharp intake of breath shook her. It seemed he forgot to breathe.

Her eyes widened when he sat up fully, pulling her into a punishing kiss. His hands roamed her face, her curls, her neck before unhooking her bra, swiftly pulling it away to toss it precariously to the side.

"Fuck," Draco muttered hoarsely. His chest moved rapidly as he took her in, eyes drifting along her as if deciding what to do with her next.

His lips came blissfully back to hers as he took his place between her legs. Her hands clutched onto his shoulders, nails digging into bare skin as she arched against him, utterly awash. She chased after the friction, not wanting it to end. From this angle, she could feel the length of him, hard against her damp knickers as he rolled against her again, and her brain came roaring back to life.

Alert ears twitched when she heard the harsh clink of his belt being unlatched. Followed by the feeling of his knuckles brushing against her abdomen as he moved lower and lower on the placket. The sound of metal buttons slipping through their holes hit her like ticking seconds down to a time bomb, taunting her of what was to come.

Without separating, she assisted in pushing his trousers down and over his hips, barely acknowledging the light thump of the article hitting the floor. Or the clunking of his dragonhide shoes. Or her bag falling right behind them. Then he glanced down at her final article.

"May I?"

With a slight nod, he took the sides of her knickers and peeled them down her legs.

After tossing the garment to the floor, he held her legs open to see.

"So wet," he muttered in awe. "Is this all for me, Granger?" He teased her slit with the tip of his finger, drawing small circles along her folds. Slowly, he slid his finger in with a fair amount of resistance. As he suspected, she was extremely tight. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together and feeling his breath on her neck when he started moving his hand.

The pressure was nice. But she wanted more.

"Please," she opened her eyes and found him watching her. "No more of this—" she whined and tilted her hips up, trying to communicate what she wanted but he held her down firmly by her waist.

"Trust me," he bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smirking when she huffed stubbornly. "You're going to wish you had it," he concluded coyly.

He added another, doing a series of twists inside her, pressing, pumping; all in unison to coerce a whimper from her lips.

"Okay?"

She nodded shakily, not trusting her voice.

Her whimpers and breaths increased and she began to grind her hips into his hand, hearing him gasp as she moved against him. Then, his thumb pressed against her nub and her patience wore out.

"Stop."

He froze, pulling away.

"Are you—"

"That's enough. I'm ready," she blurted. She took a breath to steady her nerves.

Silence enveloped them as her words lingered in the air.

He began kissing her, feeling her plead against his lips, and he reached down, ridding himself of his trunks.

"You're sure?"

"Now, Malfoy."

In a final exhale, he pressed forward.

And fuck, it was tight.

Hermione shuddered in his hold as a squeak of pain escaped her. As he pushed in, every inch felt like a mile and for a moment that stretched into forever, she wished he were smaller.

"You need to relax," he whispered huskily, nuzzling her cheek as he gently nipped at her ear. "I can't go further without hurting you if you don't." As her muscles gradually relaxed, he slid in deeper.

"Are you," she licked her dry lips, "are you completely in?"

He shook his head. "About halfway."

She cursed, tossing her head back against his pillow.

"I tried to warn you," he drawled, not even remotely offended as he raised a brow.

"Give me everything," she decided.

"What?" He stammered before grunting while she hissed, her face contorting involuntarily as her heel dug into his arse, widening her thighs and pulling him deeper inside until their hips were flush.

Gods.

She felt that same pinching inside, but she was immediately distracted by the trembling above her as he let out a harsh groan. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at his expression. His eyes were closed shut and his jaw was clenched. He appeared to be in agony.

Then, his eyes shot open, nearly black and shrouded with unbridled desire as they took in her awestruck expression.

Despite being under him and at his mercy, she never felt more powerful.

"Can I move?" His voice was deep and rough and it sent a surge down to where they were joined.

"Yes."

He pulled back only to shift forward to sheath himself again. And then he was kissing her again, rocking into her. Getting her acquainted to his size and the feeling of being full of him until her lips parted and all of a sudden—

She moaned.

He paused, studying her.

Then, with utmost precision, he kept that same angle. Hitting that spot again. And again.

Her breath was lost as the pinching subsided and something better took its place. He withdrew again, pressing into her with firmer pressure. Gradually building up a steady pace and intensifying his movements.

She grabbed at his heated skin, half-delirious, eyes shut tight as her mind zeroed in on the place where they were joined.

It was consuming.

Thrust.

Everything felt—

Thrust.

He was—

Thrust.

"Oh, Draco."

Finally, the race against her impending end had begun to pick up. Until, it wasn't. Instead, it was fading away because at some point, he stopped moving. Her eyes opened to find him watching her with a strange look in his eye, slightly muted by desire.

"What's wro—?"

"You said it again," he said with awe while her brows furrowed.

When she recalled the last few seconds, her eyes widened slightly as they met his intense gaze.

"Surely I've called you that before."

"Twice," he admitted softly. And she remembered.

The day in the bathroom.

"You remembered that?" She hadn't meant to say it at the time. It simply...slipped from her lips in a moment of desperation. Quite honestly, she was astonished that he held onto something so minimal that occurred years ago. Then again, this was Malf—no. Draco.

This was Draco.

"How could I have forgotten?" A dark laugh escaped him, "It haunted me for months," he enunciated by snapping forward again, earning a gasp from her.

"Say it again."

Clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline, she whimpered as he steadily rocked his hips. The ache from earlier arising once more.

"Say it."

"Please—"

"Say my name, Granger." His command was a purr and her need outweighed her patience.

"Draco!"

He growled, the last of his restraint being ripped away. He hitched her leg up higher around his waist, both of them gasping when he slid in deeper.

In the midst of their embrace, he pressed their lips together. She instinctively reciprocated and pulled him closer, hands grasping his soft hair at the nape of his neck. She could feel the moans popping from his throat, and swallowed them eagerly. He pulled away to latch onto the groove between her shoulder and neck. His harsh breaths hitting her skin.

One hand fondled her breast while the other traveled between them, playing at her.

Soft whimpers grew louder as he worked her harder, faster, feeling herself getting lighter and lighter. Nothing else in the world mattered except for his pleasure as he prioritized hers. Her need for him growing as the tension within her built, and built like weight on fragile glass. Pressing on it repeatedly...

Until it shattered.

She arched into him, letting out his given name in the form of a pleasure-riddled moan, clenching tighter around him than before. She lost the ability to breathe, too overwhelmed by pure white bliss erupting from her core and actively drowning her.

His motions were spaced out as she fell apart beneath him, like he was trying to sync the apex of his thrusts with the waves of her high to drag it out as long as he could.

Once she began to recede, her eyes fluttered open to meet his, still shrouded and heavy with unresolved tension.

Pleading with her.

All she could manage was a weak, sated smile.

In that instant, she saw Draco's resolve snap and watched with amazement as his eyes slammed shut, letting out a deep, throaty groan while trembling violently before he eventually went still. Heavy pants escaped him as he struggled to catch his breath. His head remained between her breasts, taking in her scent as he gradually softened within her.

A part of her wondered if they could fall asleep like this.

A small knock on the door startled them both from a blissful haze before Mitzy's soft voice came through.

"Master Draco?"

"What is it?" His words were muffled by her bosom.

"Your mother has requested your presence in the drawing room."

He cursed and Hermione stifled a snort.

'Told you,' she mouthed, silently laughing when he shushed her.

"Tell her I'll be there momentarily."

"As you wish, sir."

And he was gone.

When Draco shifted, he slid out of her, leaving her to process just how strangely empty she felt. Then she remembered just how naked she was as he took one last look at her before standing upright, offering a hand to help her up. He bent down, fishing the wand out of his trouser pocket to take aim at her abdomen and mutter a quick incantation.

"I'm on the pill," she said, reeling at the warmth of his magic.

He gave a wry grin. "The what?"

"The pill," she laughed. "It's a muggle form of birth control. Though, I suppose it doesn't matter now."

Another wave, and they'd been cleansed of their mess and horrendous hair.

While they collected their discarded clothing from the floor and donned them one by one, she felt more unsettled as the seconds passed. She could see the same question dancing in his eyes until he diverted his attention to checking his time piece.

"It's almost midnight. You should go before the Floo closes," he said softly.

She nodded silently, preparing to exit through his bedroom door until he stopped her with a firm, yet gentle grip on her wrist. At her bemused expression, he pulled her away from the door and led her to the actively burning fireplace in the middle of the room.

"Your fireplace has Floo access to Hogwarts?" She prompted, surprised.

"The Ministry granted me access after having to let Pansy in," he said tiredly, wandlessly summoning the bag of Floo powder.

She hummed, considering. "So I was right. Anyone could walk through here," she teased, echoing her words from earlier. He chuckled, catching on and tugging her closer.

"No. Not just anyone."

With a grateful laugh, her eyes remained on him as he leaned in to press a soft, warm kiss to her lips. Hard enough to convey his affection, soft enough to leave her wanting more. In a moment that came far too soon, he pulled away.

She took a handful of dust from the floating bag and with one last smile, she tossed it into the fireplace, stated her destination and stepped forward into the flames.

A/N: Hmmm, yes...quite :)