Just Like They Were…
Rated: R
Archive: go for it, please!
Fandom, Pairing: Harry Potter Un. JK Rowling, dracohermione
Summary: "She let out a laugh, the first free laugh, devoid of any underlying tensions or worries, in several weeks. Maybe months, even. The tension had started long before they had been locked up in the house, long before they had left Hogwarts for the summer. It had started somewhere in the middle of their sixth year, around the same time they had all made the choice to fight."
Disclaimer: not mine, never was mine, never will be mine. all is jk rowling's.
For: RaffyV. Hope it lives up to your standards.
Based Off: boys and girls by Kill Hannah
Word Count: 2802


The summer between sixth and seventh year brought danger for many of the students at Hogwarts. If they had chosen a side, especially the light side, they were not safe at home with their families, Muggle-born or otherwise. When it came time to leave the school, a group of twenty sixth and seventh years were left behind, watching from the safety of the front doors as their classmates went home for the summer.

They were a mix of houses, Muggle-borns, Halfbloods and Purebloods. There, in the shadow of the war, it didn't matter what their bloodlines were, or which house they had been sorted into. It only mattered that they bled red and Voldemort was out to see that red blood drain from their bodies.

Four weeks into summer and they were ready to take the duty of their deaths into their own hands. There were no fewer than twelve feuds between the twenty teenagers, some between houses or bloodlines, some were a few from each group taking sides against others that stood bye them on other issues.

When the adults ventured to the fifth and last floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, they never knew who was fighting who, who was about to hex who, and who to ask to find who. They had managed to find a system that worked rather well, though. It consisted of standing at the bottom of the stairs and yelling out to the teenager they needed, and then jumping out of the way should anyone at the top of the stairs feel the need to hex whoever was saying that name.

None of adults knew what to do. Molly Weasley was beside herself, as her two youngest were some of the more volatile in the group. The Weasley family had red hair, and all of them lived up to their nature.

It was Hermione who came up with a solution. She knew that, logically, if they had a way to spend their energy and release their tension then they might not fight so much. So she had taken the matter up with Remus Lupin.

Remus was a Werewolf and knew the dangers of living in danger when tensions ran high. He had, after all, been hunted several times by several different agencies working for several different people who worked for several different groups of people. In the end, he felt that it came into a full circle and could be blamed on Voldemort, but no one but Hermione ever took the time to listen to him explain his theory, and even she was nearly bored to tears by the end of it.

When she brought her solution to Remus, he had been hesitant to agree. Two days and several explosive fights that had broken free of the fifth floor and nearly demolished the fourth, convinced him. That was how, nearly five weeks into their vacation, the twenty teens found themselves let loose into Muggle London for the night.

Hermione was the only London Muggle-born in the group, and even though the girl her summer house mates knew was a bookworm, she had thrown that persona off every Saturday for the last few summers and had gone dancing with friends.

When she told them she was taking them dancing, all of the Purebloods and most of the Halfbloods had balked. The Muggle-borns had asked what kind, and when she told them they were going clubbing, their eyes had lit up. One five minute video taken of Hermione and her friends from the summer before and the other's eyes had lit up as well.

Once they had been released to the streets, Hermione took them to her favorite club. She knew the bouncer, who, though he eyed the group warily, let them in. With in minutes they were scattered, the tension easing from their bodies as they move to the music.

They had been there over four hours when she felt the familiar hands on her hips, moving up over her abdomen and to lightly touch the underside of her breasts. Her shirt, skin tight and barely there, let her feel the heat of his skin, seemingly almost with out barriers.

The hands moved back down to her jean clad hips, the pants clinging like they were a second skin. She raised her arms above her head, grinding back into him. Faintly, over the loud music and the harsh beat of the bass, she could hear his groan.

She let out a laugh, the first free laugh, devoid of any underlying tensions or worries, in several weeks. Maybe months, even. The tension had started long before they had been locked up in the house, long before they had left Hogwarts for the summer. It had started somewhere in the middle of their sixth year, around the same time they had all made the choice to fight.

And they had chosen. Each one, on their own, with out knowing who else would be on their side, with out knowing who they would be fighting against. Once they had picked their side, they had learned who had joined. She had been first of them all. Harry and Ron would join too, but not for a few weeks. No, what surprised her was he had been the next to join.

Draco Malfoy, her best friend's long time archenemy had been the second student to join the light side. He was everything a Death Eater could want in a son, except he didn't have the ability to kill in cold blood. He could be cruel. He could make people cry. He could lie and he could cheat. But he could not kill, not unless they threatened him or his.

And that had been what had happened. His father had threatened Hermione Granger, who wasn't part of the fight. She was not Voldemort's to claim, nor was she his father's to torture. She was his to antagonize, his to pick on. She was his to get worked up. She was not theirs, and he would not relinquish her to them.

So he had come to Dumbledore, not for himself, but to protect what he felt was his. And to his surprise she was already fighting.

She had told no one but Dumbledore the reason for joining the war. She let them all assume it was for Harry Potter's sake, but that was not the truth. The truth was she felt an inane urge to protect and save Draco Malfoy. She felt the urge to protect him from his father, from Voldemort, from the mark. Because while they had never gotten along, he was hers to bicker with, hers to hex and spar –verbally, of course –with. She was the only one in all of Hogwarts who could ruffle Draco Malfoy's feathers, and only she could shut him up. He was hers, and she would fight for him.

Now she laughed with him, happy, delirious… It was dark in the club and there were strobe lights overhead, the lights in different colors, flashing, making it hard for her to see anything.

But she could feel, feel his hands on her as they roamed up and down, feel his lips on her neck. She twisted her head to the side, opening up her neck to his mouth, feeling the hot dampness pool between her legs at his touch.

She could feel what she was doing to him, his arousal plain as he danced with her. They were touching, their bodies melded against each other, his front to her back. A new song came on and their bodies moved into the new beat, as one, still together.

It was like poetry. It was like an elemental reaction. It was like being one.

His fingertips brushed the skin that was between the shirt and her jeans, dipping just below the edge of the skin tight jeans, her skin lighting on fire at the touch. It was such a simple touch, but enough to make her moan, her moan just loud enough for him to hear. It made him redouble his efforts on her neck, kissing her behind her ear and back down onto her shoulder.

If they danced much longer, one of them was going to snap. All of their attempts to keep themselves away from each other would be for naught. Never mind that half of the fights that happened in the house would stop as well. It would be the end to their pretending the other didn't feel the same.

Lavender Brown had been heard complaining to the other girls about the tension between the two, something that had gotten her in deep shit with them both. It was one of the few fights that had them both on the same side, which while she was almost afraid for her life, being against them, was something she was proud of. She had gotten Draco and Hermione to fight together, not against each other.

Ginny Weasley had snorted when she said that, telling her "not like it will help or anything. They're not going to give in and fuck each other."

Lavender had gone off pouting, then, but she was pouting because she knew Ginny was right. Both were too stubborn, too set in their ways. Too set on being against each other but for each other, not with each other.

Now, though, Hermione was ready to stop being stubborn. She was ready to give in to the heat that consumed her body when they fought, ready to let go of rational thought that told her she shouldn't and just follow the feelings that told her she should.

She turned, twisting in his grasp, to wrap her arms around his neck, to pull his lips off her neck and up to hers, her tongue running across his lips, seeking entrance, causing him to groan.

His grip on her tightened, pulling her flush against him, making her gasp at the feelings that flooded her when she felt him against her, felt him press her just the right spot.

"Not here," she groaned out, barely able to articulate what she was trying to say. It was hard enough after dancing like this with strangers who she felt little to nothing for, let alone with someone her body had been crying out for since at least the middle of the last term.

"Mmm-kay…" He told her, latching his lips onto hers, moving them slowly through the crowd, away from everyone. Neither noticed the other eighteen eyes on them, the crossed fingers, the prayers to countless deities. All were saying the same thing, asking for this to be the night they finally gave in and fucked.

They moved down a dark hallway and as soon as no one was in sight, he Tandem-Apparated them to the Apperation Point just outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. They stumbled back from each other, breathing hard.

One look at her face and he grasped her hand in his, leading as they raced up the steps and through the door.

None of the adults were in sight when they entered and Draco didn't stop and look for them, just pulled her against him as he went up the stairs, both panting, wanting… Needing to feel the other.

There were several adults in the sitting room, just off to the left of the entrance way, all of whom stood to see who was home, who was racing towards the stairs. As they watched them flee upwards, Remus raised an eyebrow at Snape who let his mask drop long enough for surprise to show on his face. Neither had expected that couple to be the one coming home early. Tonks of course slapped the backs of their heads before they could say anything muttering under her breath about perverted professors making bets on their students' sex lives. Neither one denied it, something that should have scared her more than it did.

Upstairs, Draco and Hermione had stumbled into his room, the door shutting behind them and both muttering locking and silencing spells before they could think about it. Both could have cared less that Seamus and Blaise both slept in there too, busy letting their hands roam each other.

His hands were back on her waist, trailing upwards again, but this time her shirt was coming with his fingers. She sighed into his mouth, nipping his lips. They barely pulled away for the shirt to come up over her head before they were once again dueling with their tongues.
His hands were a long denied caress, her body arching into his touch as he explored her upper body. Her hands dropped to the hem of his tee-shirt, pulling the piece Muggle clothing up and over his head, her body lighting even more at his whimpered protest of the loss of her lips.

Her lips landed on his neck, working their way down the side of it to his chest. She slowly dropped to her knees in front of him, her fingers deftly undoing the dark jeans, pushing both them and his boxers down off his hips slowly.

"Oh, gods, Hermione…" he moaned as she took him into her mouth, engulfing him in hot, slick heat. He reached down, wrapping a hand in her hair, trying to keep himself upright.

She licked and sucked at him for a few more moments before he pulled her back with a groan. "Not yet," he mumbled, pulling her up to catch her mouth in a hard kiss.

She whimpered as he pushed her backwards, laying her onto the bed. His hands made quick work of her bra before he began to peel off her jeans, one slow agonizing inch at a time.

By the time her jeans were off, Hermione was withering. "Draco," she moaned, causing him to bite his lip to keep himself from tearing her underwear off and taking her hard and fast.

Instead, he reached up and slowly pulled her underwear down, purposely not letting his skin touch hers. She whimpered, arching up, trying to find his hands, make them touch her, make them release her from such exquisite pain.

"Draco, please…" she whimpered, her head thrown to the side. He looked down at her, such beauty as she lay there, so open, so wanton.

"Soon," he told her, letting his hands trail lightly down from her shoulders, across her breasts and down her abdomen. When he got to the triangle of dark curls, he ran his fingers through them softly, listening to her whimper, relishing in the sound she made.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he let a finger trail down the wet slit, to her opening. Just his touch was enough to make her cry out, a choked off scream. He moaned at the sound, and repeated the action, just a little firmer. She cried out again, her head tossing from side to side.

With a grin, Draco leaned down between her open legs, using two fingers to hold her folds apart. He softy licked at her clit, making her shudder. "Please, Draco, please!" she cried out.

"Please what, love?" he asked her, breathing harshly. It was getting harder and harder not to just take her there, listening to her beg him, plead with him. "Tell me what you want, Hermione."

"I…" she gasped as he bit down lightly on her clit. "Oh gods, please!"

"Tell me, love." He ran his tongue around it before nipping it again. She could only whimper, her body tightening. One more pass over her clit with his tongue and she was done for, her back arching, a hoarse cry torn from her lips.

He lapped at her, soothing the over sensitized skin, before moving up and settling over her. He ran his fingers down her slit before plunging them into her, groaning as she gasped and moved against his hand. "Oh, gods, Draco, please…" she cried, turning her face towards his.

He leaned over her, his lips just inches from hers. "Tell me, Hermione, tell me what you want…"

She cried out. "You! Fuck me, please Draco, just take me!" Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

He didn't wait any longer before lining himself up and burying himself in her. She moved against him, and he started a slow, controlled pace, his hands gripping her hips as he slid in and out. Slowly, he sped up , their bodies scorching. It wasn't long before he came with a shout, his head falling forward to land against her neck.

"Gods, 'Mione…" he mumbled against her skin.

The next morning while the two slept, wrapped around each other, eighteen teenagers thanked their favorite god or goddess for the miracle they had granted, and Lavender and Ginny collected their winnings from a stunned Potions Master and Werewolf.

Finished 8 March 2005.