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kate04
Author of 13 Stories |
A/N: Hey y’all. I’m really, really, really excited about this oneshot. I spent a lot of time on it and I’m really happy with the way it turned out. It’s told from Draco’s POV. Both he and Hermione are out of character, but I know you won’t mind. Please read and review. Thanks everyone!
Kate
Warning: Some smut.
Disclaimer: As usual, I don’t own anything Harry Potter, except this particular plot line of course.
I’m sitting in a bar in the middle of Muggle London. People would wonder why I, a Malfoy, would ever be caught dead in a place like this. Well, the answer to that is completely simple: I’m different.
Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard horrible people say that before – murderers and such claiming to the parole board that they’re changed, and when they get out they wreak havoc in the lives of their family and friends, or even kill again – but I can actually say that I have. After the Second War, I hated myself for what I had become; for the person I was choosing to be. So, I packed up everything I could carry and went off on my own. Mum and Dad weren’t extremely excited about that, but since they had narrowly escaped Azkaban unlike their “friends,” they decided it was probably for the best.
Don’t misunderstand me, they still hated Muggle-borns and Muggles and Half-Bloods and Half-Breeds and the like, but they allowed me to go off and “find myself.” Over the next five years I traveled everywhere – Greece, Australia, China, Russia, Greenland, Iceland, Africa, America, etcetera – and I learned a great deal about myself, witches and wizards in different countries and Muggles of all shapes, colors and sizes. But, in the end, I knew I would be happiest back home.
Just a few months after I had moved home, Mum and Dad were killed by Cicely Pike, a known follower of the Dark Lord. Cicely had evaded authorities for years, disguising herself well. One early morning Mum and Dad were headed to Diagon Alley to visit Gringotts, when they came upon Cicely. There weren’t many people about and awake yet and Cicely had caught them off guard. It ended quickly for them both, which is, I’m sure, how they would have wanted it. A man, sitting in his second story window, saw the entire event and notified the Aurors immediately. She was hauled off to Azkaban, where I heard she had suffered the dementors kiss. I held a nice service Mum and Dad in the gardens behind the manor a few days after the incident. I miss them terribly every day. They may have had their faults, but they were, after all, my parents.
A few months later I donated Malfoy Manner to the wizarding orphanage, made the necessary improvements to the home, and moved on my way. I found there were too many horrible memories of living in that home, and since my parents were now gone, it felt right to give up the house. I didn’t need to money, so I didn’t sell it. I wanted to show people that I had actually started to make a change in my life. This was my first step.
Now I live in a modest two-story brick home just ten minutes north of this bar I’m sitting in. I also own a financial planning firm for both wizards and Muggles and spend much of my weekend time volunteering at Malfoy Orphanage, because I enjoy those kids so much. So, when I said I had changed, you can plainly see I was being truthful. My life has new meaning.
I’m now sitting in this bar called Enid’s, sipping on a cool Jack and Coke, trying to wind down from the hectic week I’ve just had. I enjoy how the alcohol mixed with soda warms my throat, but it has that sugary aftertaste. It’s a good combination and I’m beginning to feel my body relax. I sit back in my chair, stretch my legs out in front of me, and focus on the television above the bar. Enid has chosen to put on an American Muggle sport called football, which isn’t at all like football is played here in England. Those Americans are funny people – wizards and Muggles alike.
I hear the door open behind me, but I don’t pay much attention to it. Enid’s is a fairly busy place, especially on a Friday evening. It’s not until I see the bushy brunette sit down at the bar that I even start to pay a little bit of attention. She looks oddly familiar, and even though I’m only looking at her backside, I’m sure I know her. There is something recognizable about the way she sits on the stool, her back hunched, shoulders slumped and her hair in a frizzy mess.
But, before I can place her, I hear her order a drink from Enid. It’s not her order that shocks me (though there is something amiss when a woman, who sits by herself, orders two double shots of tequila and a beer), it’s the sniffling and tears I hear in her voice. I don’t know what propels me to do it, but I stand up from my seat, pick up my drink and walk over to the upset woman.
When I reach her, which really doesn’t take long, she has already downed one of the shots and traced it with a long gulp of her beer. I hesitate only for a moment and then go gung-ho into sitting down next to her. She doesn’t seem to notice me. I think it’s funny that she doesn’t ask me to move; the bar is empty three seats to each side of her.
I sip my drink again, make a motion to Enid that I’d like another, and then try to look at the woman out of the corner of my eye. It’s difficult. She’s sitting so drooped forward that her wild hair is covering her face. Enid sets my drink in front of me and I thank her. She starts to take away the two empty shot glasses it front of the woman and before Enid can walk away, the woman says in a hoarse, shaky voice, “I’d like two more of those please.” She hesitates for only a moment and looks down at her beer, which is now over half gone. “And another beer.”
I watch Enid look her over, huff slightly and then walk away with a nod. I want to know this woman. I want to help her. She sounds so sad, so depressed, and I feel this desire, this need to help her. See, I told you, I really have changed. I turn on my stool and look at her fully. She’s a mess and I’m not just talking about her hair. Her clothes, though they are beautiful, are rumpled and dirty – she actually looks like she’s been rolling in earth. I notice she’s wearing heels on her feet, but the heel of her left shoe is missing. My heart hurts to look at her.
I clear my throat, hoping that she’ll turn and look at me, but she doesn’t. I do it again, a little louder this time, and I see her stiffen. Well, at least I got some reaction out of her right? “Excuse me,” I say in a gentle voice and reach out my hand to touch hers gently. She pulls it back quickly and I pull back my own. It probably is a little too much a little too fast, still it doesn’t discourage me. “Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?” she asks, her voice a little more shrill than I would have expected. It’s a very familiar sound, and though she still hasn’t looked up and I haven’t had a good look at her, I know I know her. My curiosity is peaked.
“Well,” I say, trying to sound lighthearted. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
I guess that was the wrong thing to say. I can see her body start shaking and I think she’s going to turn towards me and haul off and hit me. Instead, though, she drops her head into her hands on the bar and starts sobbing. I feel horrible.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, trying to sooth her by placing my hand on her back and rubbing. “I was only trying to make you feel better. I hate to see anyone so sad. I didn’t mean to upset you more.” She’s not saying anything back to me, only crying harder into her hands. I don’t know what else to do or say, so I just continue to rub her back. Sometimes, with women, I’ve found that it’s better not to say anything at all.
Ten or so minutes go by and her sobs are finally dissolving into hiccupped whines, which is okay by me. The looks I’ve been getting from the other customers in the bar have been quite disturbing. Once I feel she’s calmed down enough, I rub her back a little bit more and say, “Are you feeling a little better?”
She lifts her head, though not turning it so I can see her, and she sniffs. “Yes, a little, thank you.” Before I can say anything else to her though, she grabs one of the shots in front of her and downs it, traces it with a gulp of beer, picks up the other shot, downs it, and then traces it again with more beer. My mouth is hanging open in shock, I know it is. I have never, ever seen a woman drink like that – even when I was in Ireland for six months. And let me tell you, those women know how to drink.
Enid comes right over and takes the empty glasses from her and she orders the same thing. I’d be appalled if I weren’t so curious. “Wow,” I say with a small chuckle. “You might want to slow down with that drinking. It’s been known to kill people.” She doesn’t respond.
Trying to gather my thoughts and figure out what I’m going to say next, I take a long drink from my glass and enjoy the taste in my mouth. I’m probably sitting quiet longer than I want, but I’m truly unsure of what to say to this woman to make her feel better. But, yet, I’m still unsure why I feel compelled to even help her. Granted, I know I’ve just told you much I’ve changed, but it’s still never really been in my nature to care a whole lot about other people – especially when they’re strangers.
“I just don’t understand.” My thoughts are broken by the sound of her tear-filled voice. I turn to see her holding another shot in her hand.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, feeling a little more than confused.
She tips the glass towards her slightly, the liquor nearly coming out the top, but she tips it back the other way before it does. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” I can hear the pain in her voice and some part of me, somewhere deep down, is wishing I could take all the pain away from this woman.
“I’m sure you didn’t do anything,” I say, trying to reassure her.
I don’t think she’s really listening to me. “I’m a good person. I’m smart. I’m caring. I’m pretty.” I watch her look down at the front of her disheveled outfit – a white button-down shirt sort of tucked into a pair of black dress pants – and sigh. “Well, most of the time I’m pretty.” She sounds dejected. “I took care of him.” I’m starting to understand. “And he repays me by sleeping with-with-with.” She’s stuttering. “Some floozy tramp.” Yes, I definitely understand now. She downs the shot in her hand and I can feel her wince since she doesn’t trace it this time. “Yeah, God is punishing me for something. That’s all I can come up with.”
As I’m listening to her talk I’m starting to remember that voice. Though I’m sure it’s a voice of my past, I can’t place why I know it so well.
“I don’t know God personally,” I say, rubbing her back gently again as I hear the whines start in her throat. “But he’s not really the punishing type.” Was that a giggle I just heard? “I mean, at least not to good, smart, caring and beautiful women.” That was it. I just broke down her barrier and she is finally lifting her head to look at me. And who I see looking at me comes as a small shock, even though I think I knew all along that it was her I was talking to.
“Malfoy?” Hermione Granger’s shocked expression is priceless and if I weren’t feeling slightly shocked myself I might have laughed. “Oh my God,” she says and drops her head back down into her hands. “This can’t possibly get any worse.”
I’m a little hurt by her response, but I don’t let it get to me. Instead I take another drink from my glass, try to compose myself as best as possible and say, “Granger. I knew I knew you. The minute you walked into the bar I knew I had seen you before. I just couldn’t place you. What’s it been? Seven years? Yeah, it’s been at least seven years since I’ve seen you. Wow, that’s a long time. You look good, by the way. Having a rough day though I can see. I’m sorry to hear about that. Can I help?” Okay, so I’m babbling. What people don’t know about me is that whenever I get really nervous (which isn’t often), I just go on and on and on. That’s what I was doing right now. Diarrhea of the mouth.
Hermione lifts her eyes to me again and I see tears shiny there brightly. I have the urge to reach out and wipe them away with my fingertips, but the look of annoyance in her eyes stops me. “Please.” She’s begging and it looks like it’s killing her. “Just go away. Let me wallow in my self-pity in peace.”
Normally I would have agreed to do just that, but I’m a different person now. And something is convincing me to make her understand that. I’d like to help her along the way as well. I take another drink from my glass and push it away. “Sorry,” I say in a nonchalant voice. “I can’t do that.”
She turns away from her beer, which she was downing quite quickly, and stares at me in disbelieve...and something else that resembles fear. It makes me sad to see her that way. “Excuse me?” Her voice is still a hoarse whisper.
“I can’t leave you alone,” I say simply and take another drink. “It is now my life’s mission to understand why you’re so upset and find a way to make you feel better.” I smile at her – a genuine smile – and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so confused. It’s not a look you would ever think you’d see on her face. “So,” I continue. “You better start talking before all that alcohol makes it’s way through your system and you can’t think straight anymore.” I’m really hoping this nonchalant, “can we forget I was ever mean to you in school” routine was going to work.
“You have got to be kidding me?” I guess not. She scoffs in my face, grabs her beer and gulps the remaining liquid. And, without looking at me, “Would you please just go away?”
I’m done messing around now. “No,” I say, firmer than I’ve been with her so far. She looks at me and raises an eyebrow, but I plow ahead. “The thing is Miss Granger I’ve changed. And I’m really quite interested in what has happened to you this evening that has you in such,” I stop to consider which is the right phrasing to use, “dire straits.” If it’s possible, her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “I’d truly like to help you, even if all you need to do is talk.”
I don’t know what I’ve said, but she looks downright pissed. “Oh, is that so, Malfoy?” She drags out my surname so much it’s barely recognizable. “Well let me tell you something.” I cringe at the shrillness of her voice, but I don’t back down when she plunges her finger into my face. “I’ve heard all about your so-called ‘good deeds’ with the orphanage and such. I’ve heard about you spending all this time out in big, wide world learning all things new and different and coming back a ‘changed man’.” There is so much sarcasm dripping from her tongue I think I might drown in it. “But, for the record, I think it’s all a bunch of barmy hogwash.” Did she just say barmy hogwash? “I know what you’re really up to. You want me to sit here and pour my heart out to you.” She spits the last word out with so much contempt I’m finding it hard to remember why I felt so sorry for her in the first place. “And then you’re going to turn around and throw it all in my face. Call me names. Tell me I’m a filthy little mudblood that doesn’t deserve to be loved or cared for.” She’s no longer as mad as she was, but more sad than anything. It doesn’t stop her voice from sounding harsh though. “I won’t do it. So just get lost. We’re done here.” And with a finality that I recognize immediately, she turns her back on me.
I’m hurt.
I’m angry.
I’m confused.
Instead of lashing out at her like I would have done years ago in school – before I changed – I pick up my glass, stand up from my chair and say in as calm a voice as I can muster, “I’m sorry to hear that. The truth is that I really have changed. I didn’t want to rub any of this in your face. I truly feel bad for whatever has happened to you and I want to help. But, since you’re so interested in holding childhood grudges against me, I’ll leave.” I turn around and start to walk away, but stop. “If you change your mind,” I say, with my back still to her. “I’ll be here, Hermione.”
I walk the quick three strides across the bar and sit back down at the table I was sitting at before she came in. I fix my eyes on the television above the bar again and sip at my drink, trying to just forget about the last twenty minutes of my life and relax like I had plans to do before.
I find it hard to do after thirty seconds though, because she’s standing in front of me at my table, a full beer in her hand and a bemused look on her face.
“You called me Hermione.” It was a statement laced with bewilderment and I nod to her while pulling out the chair next to me and gesturing for her to sit.
“It’s your name, is it not?” She sits down beside me, sets her beer on the table and continues to stare at me, her mouth slightly ajar in, what I can only assume, is shock.
“You’ve never called me by my first name.”
I sip my drink again and then lift my hand to Enid, who catches my sign for another drink. “Well, whether you believe it or not Hermione, I have changed.” I look her straight in the eye and add, “I’m sorry for anything I said or did to you in school that may have hurt you. I’m just hoping you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, and to forget.”
I can’t decipher the look on her face. She’s conveying so many emotions through her eyes that it’s hard to tell which is most dominating. Finally, after staring at me intently for a full three minutes, she sighs. “I’m sorry too,” she says, staring at her beer on the table. “I really do think you’ve changed. I’ve actually been telling Harry and R-R-Ron,” she stutters over the name, forcing it out of her mouth, “that for quite some time. But they don’t believe it.” She sighs again and looks up at me, tears shining in her eyes again. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
I smile at her again. “Apology accepted,” I say and thank Enid after she sets my drink down in front of me. I lean forward in my chair, resting my arms on the table and say, “So, what’s wrong?”
She sniffs and I see tears tumble from her eyes and leave lines in the smudges of dirt on her face. She stares back down at her beer and starts running her fingers up and down the sweat on the glass. Her voice isn’t strong, but it’s clear, and I decide it’s best to just let her talk and not interrupt. “Well, as I’m sure you know, Ron and I have been dating since the War.” I nod my head even though she’s not looking at me to see that I did. “We’ve lately been talking about getting married. I mean, seven years is a long time to date someone without, at least, being engaged.” She sighs. “Ron always said that Quidditch kept him too busy to think about getting married yet. He said it wouldn’t be fair to me to have to be home all the time while my husband was out playing games all over the world.
“I went along with for a really long time, until this last year when I finally put my foot down. I gave him an ultimatum – either we got married, or we were done. He chose getting married. His proposal was even really sweet. He took me to dinner to this nice Muggle restaurant and had the ring hiding in my water glass.” Her eyes mist over as a small smile touches her lips.
“I finally felt like he was really ready to settle down. We set the date for May 25th. We were looking at houses to buy. I had my dress and my bridesmaids dresses all picked out. Everything was going to plan.” Her eyes darken and the sides of her mouth turn down into a frown. “And then he started spending more and more time with his Quidditch buddies. He’d come over late on the nights we were supposed to be spending time together and he’d always be drunk. One night he didn’t show up at all. I was up all night worried about him and when I finally got a hold of him, he said he ‘simply forgot’.”
She looks up at me and scowls. “What man just forgets that he’s supposed to meet his soon-to-be wife?” I know it’s a rhetorical question so I keep my mouth shut and my eyes on hers, trying to convey through a look how wrong he was. She sighs again and looks back down at her beer. “So, this week he was supposed to be in training for the new season coming up. We’ve been fighting so much lately that I felt I should go and surprise him – do something nice for him.”
Her eyes get a dreamy look to them again and she says, “I took off early from work, packed a picnic basket with all of his favorite foods and some wine, and apparated to the hotel where he was staying. I told the wizard at the front desk that I was his wife, flashed my ring and he gave me a copy of his room key. I hadn’t thought it was going to be so simple, but it was.” She sighs once more and I see the tears well up in her eyes all over again. Instinctively I reach out my hand and place it on top of hers, gripping my fingers around hers and squeezing. Shockingly enough, she squeezes my fingers back.
She doesn’t seem to want to go on, so I squeeze her hand again and say gently, “Go on.”
She looks at me and the corners of her mouth quirk slightly, but then she turns her head to stare at her beer again. Still holding her hand, she continues, “I get up to his room and assume that he’s out practicing. So, I open up the door and I swear I think I’m in the wrong room. There is women’s clothing strewn all over the room and I can hear a woman giggling in the bathroom.” Her face takes on a blank stare. “I’m about to creep out of the room, thinking that it’s best I don’t get caught when I see a very familiar set of Chudley Cannons robes and the new Quidditch boots I bought for Ron as a Valentine’s present.” The tears are flowing freely down her face now, but her voice is surprisingly steady.
“I don’t know what came over me. I slammed the door shut again, opened up the bathroom door and there is Ron and some blond, big-breasted tramp standing just outside the shower, both naked and dripping wet.” The hand I’m holding onto suddenly grips my fingers tighter and I try not to wince. Her voice raises and I can see her face turning red with anger. “I was…I am infuriated. Who does he think he is? He thinks he can just spend the last seven years stringing me along and then cheat on me? And then he thinks I should forgive him because he had a ‘momentary lack of judgment’? Yeah, nice try buddy.” Her fingers loosen on mine.
Her voice softens again and she sounds like a scared child. “So, I stormed out of there, using some choice phrases that would make a sailors ears burn and start walking.” She looks confused. “It’s like I forgot I was a witch. I could have apparated and saved myself from looking like,” she looks down at her dirty clothes, “filth, since I walked through a muck field just outside of town. But, no. I felt so diminished that I couldn’t do anything but walk and think about how I’ve just thrown away the last seven years of my life.” She shakes her head, brushing away the tears on her cheeks with her free hand. I notice the engagement ring still on her finger, but say nothing. “I’m pathetic,” she practically whispers.
I can’t stay quiet any longer. “You are not pathetic Hermione,” I say firmly, squeezing her hand again. “He is.” I rub my free hand over the back of my neck and let out a sigh. “You know, I always knew you and Weasley would be together. Everyone did, all through school, but never in a million years would I have expected him to treat you this way. He’s not even that, that,” I stutter to find the right word, “attractive.” This earns me a small smile and what I think is a giggle. I smile back at her. “You’re better off,” I say and pat the top of her hand before letting it go. “Much better off.”
I admit, I’m not good with these speeches, but I must have said something right because she’s still smiling at me. To hide my discomfort at the stare she’s giving me, I grab my glass and drink down what’s left. My head is starting to swim a little as I’ve had more to drink tonight than I normally do to “relax.” I stare at my glass and then look up at Hermione, who is still looking at me with that silly grin.
“What?” I ask, finding myself grinning too.
She shakes her head and takes a long drink of her beer. “I never would have imagined myself sitting in a bar drinking with Draco Malfoy and talking about my fucked up love life.” My eyes get wide in shock. She chuckles, “What? Didn’t expect me to come out with such foul language?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “No, the Hermione I remember would never have done that.” But, then again, she did call me some choice words and punch me in third year, so maybe I’m wrong about that.
She’s taking another drink of her beer and smiling. “Don’t presume you know me Malfoy,” she says. “I am not the same girl I was in school either.”
“And then,” she’s loudly telling a story and laughing hysterically between each sentence. “He steps into the shower, bloody pissed off, and his foot slips on that damn duck.” She makes a motion with her hand, pushing it away from her body and up towards the air. “Whoosh!” She’s laughing. “Down he goes.” She claps her hands together. “Smack!” Now I’m laughing…hard. She wipes tears from her eyes. “It was priceless.”
I’m still laughing and watch as Enid walks up to our table. “Last call,” she says dryly. Neither of us responds. Instead I wave my hand in a gesture that says “we’re done” and then turn back to Hermione. She has stopped laughing now and is finishing the last gulp of her beer. My drink has been done for the last ten minutes. It seems that our night will be ending soon.
I watch her set down her empty glass on the table and then she turns to me with a smile. “Thank you.” It’s a simple statement, but there are emotions in her eyes that explain how much more it means to her.
I nod. “Anytime.”
She looks away from me and straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the bar. She sits that way for a few minutes, her eyes glazed over. Finally she lets out a sigh and says, “I should be going.” She starts to get up from her chair and I watch her stumble.
I may be a little drunk myself, but I’m much quicker than she is. I also see that I hold my liquor better. I swiftly stand up, grab her arm to steady her, and then she laughs. “I think you’re a little drunk,” I say with a chuckle.
She rolls her eyes at me. “That’s fairly obvious.” I help her get situated on her feet again and as I let go of her arm she mutters a “thanks.”
I drop a wad of Muggle money on the table, paying for both hers and my tabs, and then motion with my arm for her to head out of the bar. We both walk out quietly and I’m feeling slightly uncomfortable. I don’t even know why. We’re standing outside now, the chilly night air hitting my flushed face. I sigh and then turn to her. “So,” I say. It’s lame. I know it is.
She turns to me. “So,” she answers. We both stand there staring at each other and finally she says, “Thank you again Draco. Tonight could have been so much worse.” I can tell it doesn’t come out the way she wanted it to, but I understand what she’s saying.
I nod. “I’m glad I could help.” I look out at the darkened street and then up to the sky. The stars are twinkling above and there is a full moon. It’s a beautiful July night. I turn my attention back to her and see that she’s biting on her bottom lip. Looking at her profile, I feel something tug at my stomach. She turns to look at me and smiles gently. I smile back. “Well, we’ll have to do this again sometime.”
She nods her head. “We most definitely will.”
We’re both prolonging the inevitable and I’m finally realizing it. It shouldn’t be this hard to walk away from someone who used to loathe and had just recently become friends with. “Well,” I say and outstretch my hand to her. She looks down at it, cocks her head and then takes in her hand to shake it. “Good night Hermione.”
She’s still staring at our shaking hands. There is a tingling sensation running up my arm, but I try to ignore it. She takes a small step closer to me and then lifts her chocolate eyes to mine. Her voice is a whisper. “Good night Draco.”
We’re staring at each other. Her eyes are boring into mine. Our hands are still clasped together. My eyes trail down from her eyes to her lips, which are parted and plump. I can feel the sexual pull in the pit of my stomach and try to push it away. And just as I’m trying to focus on something else, she takes a step towards me again – while my body betrays me and steps towards her at the same time.
We are mere inches away from each other now. I’m staring down at her and she’s staring up at me. She bites down on her bottom lip again and it’s almost my undoing. “I’m going this way.” My voice sounds foreign to me as I speak to her in a hushed voice and tip my head backwards slightly to indicate my direction of travel. Our eyes never leave each others.
Her head tips to the left slightly. “I’m going this way.” Earlier in the evening she went into the loo and washed up her face as best she could. Now I’m so close to her I see a smudge of dirt still under her right eye. With my free hand I reach up, and with delicate fingers I brush the dirt away. Her eyes close at contact.
I don’t move my fingers once the dirt is gone and her eyes flutter open gently. I don’t know what has come over me. My head is swimming and I’m unsure how much of it is from the alcohol and how much is the closeness to her. I’d bet it’s about even. I can see flecks of green in her normally chocolate brown eyes, the irises wide. Her hair is much tamer after she fixed it earlier, and I notice that it’s much more beautiful than it ever was when we were children. I run my hand back along her cheek and touch her hair, feeling the silkiness of it. I don’t even need to lean forward to smell the scent of coconut and lilac. It’s intoxicating. “I should be going.”
She nods, but doesn’t walk away. “Yeah, me too.”
It’s like I finally realize what is happening. This woman has just broken up with her fiancé. Yes, she may be my perfect equal in every way, but this isn’t right. We’re drunk! I pull away from her, reluctantly, and I think I hear her gasp at the loss. I know what she’s feeling.
“Well,” I say and then clear my throat attempting to sound more like myself. “Good evening then.”
She nods. “Good evening.”
I stare at her for one more brief moment and then turn around. I have to. If I don’t I know I’ll pull her into me, snog her senseless and then take her back to my place to show her how a real man would treat her. As I’m walking away from the bar and away from her I shake my head. This has been one hell of an evening.
Bloody Hermione Granger. Merlin, what was I thinking?
I’ll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking about giving her more pleasure than any man ever has. I was thinking I’d bring her home, and pleasure her to the point of torture – to the point where she needed to beg for release. I was thinking I’d soften it afterwards, and teach her a thing or two about real lovemaking.
Oh, I was thinking alright. And I still am.
I take a large gulp of my water and feel my drunken state dissipate. I set the empty glass on my coffee table and glance at the clock on the wall above my television. It’s 3:15. I need to go to bed.
Standing up, I stretch my arms high above my head and pull my body taut. The stretch feels good. I’m pretty sure I’m ready to go to sleep now. And hopefully without having to, eghhmm, take care of some business. I leave my empty glass on the table – I’ll get it in the morning – and start walking towards the staircase. I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear something.
I stop and listen. It sounded like a knock. I stand still just listening. Knock, knock. There it is again.
“Who in the bloody hell comes calling at 3:15 in the morning?” I’m pissed and though I’ll never admit it to anyone, I’m a little nervous. I walk back down the stairs, summon my wand – which flies down the staircase and into my hand – and walk cautiously to the door.
Before I can check the peephole to see who it is, the knock comes again, only slightly louder this time. I jump, scared senseless. “Fucking calm down Malfoy, you pansy.” I force myself to calm down and then look into the peephole. It’s dark and I can’t see a damn thing. I don’t have my porch light on – as well I shouldn’t, it is 3:15 in the morning.
Knowing I probably shouldn’t be doing it; I unlock the door and grasp the handle. I take a deep breath, point my wand towards where the door will open, ready to throw a curse and pull it open slowly.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see Hermione standing just outside my door. Relief washes over me and I drop my wand. I pull the door open further and say, “Merlin Hermione, you scared the living shi-…”
My words are cut off as she comes into the house in two quick steps, pushes the door closed behind her, wraps one hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down to her lips, crushing them against mine. I’m in shock, but quickly my brain goes into overdrive and my body responds to her seconds later.
I wrap one arm around her waist and another goes into her hair. I rub the small of her back and gently pull my head back a little to gentle the kiss. She responds in kind and I take the time to taste her. She’s like an exquisite wine, aged to perfection. I run my tongue against her lips and they part slightly. I take it as an invitation and slide my tongue between her lips. I caress her tongue with mine and I hear the lowest, quietest moan escape her lips into my mouth. Yes, this is what I was thinking of doing to her.
Both of her arms are wrapped around my neck now, and her fingers are gently stroking my shoulders. I trace my fingers down her neck, between her shoulder blades, and down to her waist where my other hand is. My head is swimming as I feel her slender body beneath my fingers and taste her mouth with my tongue.
Slowly I release her mouth and breathing hard, I press my forehead against hers. Her breathing is erratic and her eyes are closed, but she doesn’t pull away from me. Between gulps of air I manage to choke out, “Well Hermione, won’t you come in?” I feel the breath from her giggle against my lips and it sets my body on fire. Who could ever have imagined something so simple could turn me on so much?
“I couldn’t sleep,” she breathed against my lips again before grazing them lightly with her own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“I know what you mean.” I tighten my arms around her waist and pull her closer, causing the hardness in my plaid pajama pants to press between our stomachs.
I hear a groan escape her mouth and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. She gently runs her fingernails down my back and rests her hands on my hips. I shiver at the touch. “I can’t imagine how I wasted the last seven years of my life with Ron when I could have had you.”
I breathe against her lips and then trace them with my tongue. “It’s only going to make this that much sweeter.” She’s no longer wearing the clothes she had on at the bar, but a pair of grey yoga pants and a skinny white tank top. I slip my hands underneath her top and rest them on the hot skin of her lower back. Her skin is so soft. It’s like touching the petals of a rose.
“Draco.” I barely hear her say my name, but it’s enough to causes my undoing. I capture her mouth with mine again, while pulling her away from the door and towards the stairs. We stumble over a table in the foyer and she giggles against my lips. I back into the coat rack and curse. Finally we make it to the steps and I can’t go further. I lay her back against the stairs and hover over her, holding myself up with one arm, the other resting on her hip.
I move my lips along her jaw to her earlobe and nibble on it gently, causing her to gasp. I slide my hand from her hip, underneath her shirt and spread my fingers against her stomach. I slide them up her stomach quickly and grasp one of her breasts in my hand. She moans loudly as I pinch the hard bud of her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and move my lips down the side of her neck, biting it tenderly. I straddle her hips on the stairs and sit up enough to remove her tank top. I do it quickly and toss it to the floor. I stare down at her and know that she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m kicking myself for not seeing it before now.
I’m obviously taking too long for her because she slides her fingers into the waistband of my pants and starts shoving them down. Instinctively I sit get up from my knees, help her pull them the rest of the way off, and get back down onto my knees beside her. I’m completely naked, pressed up against her and she’s scraping her nails down my back. I shudder at her touch and dive down, attaching my mouth to one of her nipples, my hand going to the other, massaging.
With my other hand, I slide it down her stomach to the waistband of her pants and slide my fingers in. I groan against her breast when I feel she isn’t wearing any knickers. Apparently that moan causes her to squeal and scream my name.
As I switch my mouth to her other nipple, I slide my fingers down her pants further and come into contact with her extremely swollen clit. I press my thumb to it at the same time I bite down gently onto her nipple and she arches her back into me. “Holy fuck!” She screams it loudly as her body convulses. It turns me on more. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck Draco. Yes.” I’m pressing my thumb harder into her clit and rubbing it gently back and forth as I slide my lips up her chest to the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder.
I keep kissing up her neck to her ear and whisper, “You are so wet, love.” Keeping my thumb on her clit, giving constant pressure, I slip my fingers down and push one inside her slick opening. “Oohh yeah.” I moan into her ear and feel her buck her hips into my hand, trying to press my finger further inside of her. I pull it back out and she groans. “No, no. You’re going to be begging for release when I’m done with you.” She whimpers and I press my finger inside of her again, wiggling it around slowly.
Her breath hitches in her throat. “You are evil.” I’ve heard her tell me that before, but never with that much ecstasy behind it.
I move my mouth over to hers and whisper against it. “I am a Slytherin afterall.” I crush my lips to hers and with one hand pull her pants off her body the rest of the way and the other hand I slip two more fingers inside of her.
She gasps against my mouth and I pull away from her. Starting at her chin I start kissing down her body. Over her throat, between her breasts, licking each nipple and then pulling them into my mouth to suck on them gently, down her stomach, slipping my tongue into her navel and down further, to where my thumb is pressed against her clit. I still have three fingers inside of her, but not moving them at all. She’s practically crying.
“Merlin Draco.” Her voice is barely audible over her heavy breathing.
I remove my thumb from her clit and replace it instantly with my tongue, licking it fully and tasting her. It’s intoxicating and I can’t get enough. I press my tongue down hard and hum gently as I start sliding my fingers slowly in and out of her. Her upper body is thrashing around and she’s moaning so loudly I’m sure my neighbors will hear her. But I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I want this more than she does. I lift my head just enough from her core and breath, “Bloody hell Hermione, you taste amazing.”
She moans louder even still as I put my tongue back on her clit and flick it gently before pulling it into my mouth and sucking it hard. “Fuck. Draco. Oh my God. Please.”
It’s that simple word “please” that makes me remove my fingers from inside her, replace them with my tongue and then press my thumb against her clit. Getting a mouth full of her juices is making my head spin. I dip my head back and forth, sliding my tongue deeply inside of her and press hard against her clit with my thumb. Her hips are bucking wildly, but I don’t stop. I move quickly and deeply inside of her until finally, “Oh my fucking God Draco. I’m co-co-coming.” And just that quick, her body shakes uncontrollably and she comes into my waiting mouth. I lick her wet core over and over again, from top to bottom, making her scream with ecstasy. Five minutes later I stop and start my ascent of her body again, licking and sucking all the way back to her parted lips.
I give her a gentle kiss and she wraps her arms around my neck. “Good huh?” I ask when we break the kiss.
“Where to bloody hell did you learn that?” she asks, breathing deeply to catch her breath.
I chuckle and without warning I shove my hard dick inside of her still-dripping opening in one swift movement. She gasps and I bury myself to the hilt. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” I whisper against her mouth and start pumping quickly inside of her. Maybe I should have given her a rest, but at this moment I want nothing more than to release inside of her warm folds.
I slide my dick all the way inside of her before pulling it out completely and then thrusting back inside of her again. I’m pounding into her and I realize just how tight she feels around me. We’re both moaning and groaning. She’s screaming out inaudible words of passion. I slip down a little on the stair and know that I’ve found the right spot when she cries out, “Holy mother of God Draco. Yes, right there. Fuck me!”
I crush my lips against hers and mercilessly work on fucking her better than she’s ever been fucked. I pound into her over and over again until I know I can’t hold on much longer. Finally with one more push inside of her, I arch my back leaving my dick inside of her and groan loudly as I empty myself inside of her.
The force of my orgasm shooting inside of her pushes her over the brink and her body shakes violently again as she bites down on my bottom lip. The waves of my orgasm wash over me and I feel like I could drown in the ecstasy of it. Never have I ever had an orgasm like that – and I’ve been with a lot of women.
We stay that way for a long time, my softening dick still inside of her, when I finally feel her moving beneath me. Shifting my weight, I slide out of her and move to the step beside her. We’re both leaning back and staring at the ceiling. She speaks first. “That was bloody euphoric.”
I glance over at her and see her looking at me with a smile. I smile back and say, “That is the perfect word for that.” Without another word, I take her hand in mine, kiss it gently, and stand up, pulling her with me. I lead her the rest of the way up the stairs and into my bedroom.
Sliding out of bed as quietly as I can, I slip a pair of sweatpants on, run my hands through my hair, and walk out of the bedroom to make some coffee. In the kitchen I’m leaning against the counter, staring out the window over the sink when I hear her enter.
“Good morning.” Her voice is hoarse and I smile to myself, knowing I’m the cause. I turn around and smile at her. She’s wearing only my white button-down shirt that I had wore to the bar last night.
“Good morning,” I say and gesture to the brewing coffee. “I’m making coffee.”
She nods, holds her head and walks to the breakfast table to sit down. We don’t speak at all as the coffee maker finishes. I pour us each a mug and carry them over to the table where I sit down beside her and hand her the mug.
“Thank you,” she murmurs and brings the hot liquid to her lips. Once she’s taken a sip her eyes lift to mine and I see confusion there.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried that she doesn’t remember anything from the night before. It doesn’t occur to me until just now that she could have still been drunk. Something rips through my chest and I think it’s my heart cracking.
She shakes her head and takes another sip of her coffee. When she’s finished she sets it on the table and stares at her folded hands in front of her. “Were you, well, were you drunk last night?” Her voice cracks when she asks and I’m sure she’s on the brink of tears.
I lift her chin with my hand and make her look into my eyes. Tears are forming. “I was drunk when we left the bar.” I say it and a tear slides out of her eye and down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb. “But I was very much sober when you got here last night.” She doesn’t smile and now I’m worried. I remove my hand from her cheek and ask, “Why? Were you drunk?”
Slowly, painfully, she nods her head and I can’t stay seated next to her any longer. I stand up and walk over to the sink again, staring out the window. “Oh,” I answer. I’m hurt. I can admit it. I was hoping beyond all hope that this was going to turn into something more. But no, I should have known better. She just broke it off with Ron. She was hurt and upset. And she was drunk. And I’m an idiot.
I feel her come up behind me and wrap her arms around my waist from behind. I stiffen immediately and try to push her away. “No, it’s okay Hermione,” I say and turn around in her arms because she won’t remove them. “I understand. It was a mistake.”
She’s shaking her head and I’m confused again. I have never been so confused over one woman before in my life. I pray it never happens again.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” she says quietly.
I roll my eyes and pull her arms from around my waist. “You just sat there and said you were drunk. Drunken people don’t make good decisions Hermione. I know that. You know that. You just broke it off with Ron. You were upset and I was a warm body. I get it. It’s okay.” I’m rambling again. I’m nervous and I just wish she would leave. I want to mope in private.
She’s still shaking her head. “You don’t understand,” she says quietly.
“What don’t I understand? It seems all pretty self-explanatory to me.”
She presses a hand to my chest and pushes me back against the counter. I’m a little more than shocked. “What you don’t understand,” she says as she walks closer to me, trapping me against the counter. “Is that I was drunk when I left the bar too. But when I came over here last night, when I pressed my lips against yours for the first time, I was sober.” Her other hand is wrapped around my neck like it was last night when she first came in. “Last night was not a mistake.” She pulls my head down to hers. “We are not a mistake.” She presses her lips against mine and I know that I have finally found my soul mate.
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