Title: A Series of Kisses
Chapter Title: 1/1
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Genres: Romance, Humour
Warnings: Language, Sexual Situations
Summary: Draco Malfoy hasn't kissed many women, yet he KNOWS he wants to kiss her. (dmhg post-war)
Contrary to popular opinion, Draco Malfoy was extremely judicious about who he kissed. When one was particular and fastidious about appearance, reputation, and all manner of things, you didn't go around sticking your tongue down just any ol' tart's throat. You needed to be discerning and discriminating in the choice of mouths you allowed yourself to partake of. And it was for this reason and this reason ALONE that at the ripe age of twenty-two, Draco had only swapped spit -- to use the phrase of his nemesis Blaise Zabini -- with three women.
The first kiss had gone to Pansy Parkinson. It had been a tremendous mistake. The girl was so enthusiastic that she'd knocked her pug nose into his more aristocratic one and then scraped their teeth together, leaving Draco desperate to lock himself in the restroom with a brush and tube of toothpaste. In addition, her thin lips had done nothing to inspire the Slytherin's mouth toward greatness and he'd broken apart from her unable to hide his queasiness.
Draco's second kiss had been with Daphne Greengrass. It too had been an unmitigated disaster. While Greengrass had been much more skilled with the mechanics of kissing, no knocking noses together or biting things not meant to bitten, she had tasted faintly waxy. Draco wasn't sure how to explain it, but her soft, moist lips had tasted like they were covered with strawberry-smelling paraffin. Frankly, he imagined it was what sucking on a candle must feel like. Understandably, he was unwilling to repeat the experience.
Draco's third kiss had been slightly better. Somewhere between Hogwarts and his current predicament, his over-active brain had decided that perhaps only pure-blooded women kissed like shite. Therefore, he had cornered half-blood Hannah Abbott outside of the Leaky Cauldron one afternoon almost a year ago. He'd flirted, he'd been suave, he'd whispered naughty things in her ear and she'd eventually leaned into him and pressed her lips against his. No nose collision, no waxy aftertaste, and yet he felt slightly disappointed. His blood hadn't pumped, his heart hadn't raced, he hadn't been disgusted, but he also hadn't been turned on either.
For several horrible months, he contemplated the possibility of being asexual. But then he'd run into her – literally. He'd been browsing the 'self-help' section at Flourish & Blotts when he'd turned away to go examine the new novels and crashed into the slight girl. She'd been knocked down, her bushy-brown hair covering her eyes, her skirt pushed up several inches above her knees. Draco had smirked, because even after all these years, it felt good to be one up on her. However, when she'd pushed the hair away from her faced and glared up at him, her lips slightly apart, her breathing coming fast, he'd know immediately that she MUST be his next kiss.
It was just his sodding luck that it was her. The girl who had the most reasons to despise him. No fancy words, or longing glances, or lustful winks would bring her lips to his. Draco was certain that if he ever wanted to kiss her – ever wanted to taste her, he would have to steal it, catch her unaware, and just take it. So he bided his time, he convinced himself that blood wasn't important, he watched her, he lay in wait outside the Ministry, learning her habits, her routines. If she noticed his attention it was not evident from her demeanor. Draco often smiled to himself at just how easy she was making it on him.
He still didn't rush things. He completed two and half months of surveillance and planning before he was ready to give kissing another shot. Then one day toward the end of June, he waited in the alley behind her parents' townhouse. She always Apparated to this spot on Sundays at 11:00 a.m. to have brunch with her family. It was the prefect location to carry through with his plan since it was far from wizarding London – no magical witnesses to contend with – and Hermione was always a bit harried when arriving for the meal – as if she were dreading the imminent contact with her family. This was a feeling Draco himself was no stranger to having been summoned to awkward dinners at Malfoy Manor every Wednesday evening since his graduation from Hogwarts.
Just as Draco poised himself to grab the brown-eyed witch by the wrist and pull her to him as soon as she appeared, he found himself being spun around and pressed back into a filthy brick wall as his intended victim turned the tables on him. "Malfoy," she hissed, her wand pressed up against his chest. "I am sick of whatever game you are playing! I want it to stop, now!"
Draco's eyes widened slightly as he felt her fist his cloak and yank his head nearer to hers. Before he could surrender or confess or grovel for forgiveness, however, she was covering his mouth with her lips – grinding them forcefully against his. It was not polished, it was not sweet – she tasted like coffee and toast, rather than fruit and sugar – and her tongue – great Merlin above – her tongue was sweeping into his mouth demanding a response. And for the first time in his life, Draco understood what the poets meant when they claimed that not even a million kisses could quench one's desire.
And just as suddenly as it had started, she pulled back from him. It was like being doused with a cold bucket of water. They were both breathing heavily, neither moving, neither speaking. Nevertheless, Draco couldn't help smirking, because he knew that despite his inexperience, she had been just as affected by their contact as he had. He moved away from the wall and gently caressed her face with his hand. He lowered his mouth to hers, but did not capture her lips. He no longer wanted to steal kisses from her; he wanted them to be freely given. He whispered against her mouth. "Let's do this right, Granger. We'll go on a proper date, followed by a proper good-night kiss."
She shook her head no, causing her lips to brush against his lightly.
"Say yes, Hermione," he urged.
She closed her eyes, and for a moment Draco felt a rising panic that she would refuse. But when she opened them, he knew he had won. She licked her lips before whispering, "Yes."
Draco flinched as a grape dropped onto his cheek then rolled down the side of his face.
"Hold still," Hermione told him, as she adjusted where she was holding her hand and dropped another grape that missed his mouth.
"I thought this was supposed to be romantic, Granger," Draco grumbled.
The former Gryffindor and the former Slytherin had only been dating for a few weeks. Some days they felt really, really good together. Other days, however, they both wondered just what they hell they were thinking when they had initially decided to give a romantic relationship between them a shot. They were simply too different -- different in temperament, taste, and talent. For example, when Hermione had suggested that they go out on a picnic today, Draco had been less than thrilled with the idea. Picnics were just so plebeian.
Despite his initial wariness, the blond had found the simple meal she had prepared to be delightful and had ended up with his head in her lap once the meal was over. Eyes closed, sun sparkling through the trees, Draco relished the feel of Hermione's fingers stroking his hair. He had opened his eyes only after she had asked if he would like some grapes for dessert. Unfortunately, what had started off as a game to see how high up she could hold up her hand and still land a grape into Draco's mouth had turned into some type of geometry challenge, which Hermione was determined to figure out even if it drove the blond crazy.
Draco eyed her grape-filled hand warily. He finally snapped after Hermione informed him that her task would be much easier to accomplish if she only had a protractor. Although he had no bloody idea what a protractor was, the former Slytherin was quite certain he didn't want one anywhere near him. Reaching up and grabbing her hand, Draco rolled Hermione over so that she was now the one laying on the blanket while he knelt above her.
"Draco!" she protested.
"Shush, Granger. I'm going to show you the proper way to feed someone a grape."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but did not comment further.
Draco picked up a grape between his thumb and forefinger and then rubbed it against Hermione's lips until she opened her mouth. He did not pull his fingers away until after she had closed her lips around grape and the tips of his fingers. Although he hadn't intended it to be at all sexual, he found the sensation of her moist lips just lightly brushing against his skin highly erotic. He fed her another grape in the same manner. Her soft moan convinced him that she was just as aroused by the experience as he had been.
Feeling inspired, Draco took the next grape gently between his teeth and leaned over to feed it to Hermione. She giggled slightly before capturing the grape and his lips in a playful kiss.
When Draco finally pulled away, he smiled down at the brown-eyed girl. "You know, Granger. I've completely changed my mind about picnics. They are absolutely charming."
"With the right companion, just about any activity can be enjoyable," Hermione grinned back at him.
"I thought you said things between you and the Weasel were over?" Draco demanded, grabbing a hold of Hermione's wrist and dragging her down a dark hallway in the Leaky Cauldron.
"They are over. Now let go of my wrist before you bruise it," she hissed.
"Then why was he kissing you?" Draco growled, loosening his grip, but not letting go of her.
"He wasn't kissing me. I mean, he did, but only on the cheek. It was a friendly kiss. It was a kiss just to say 'hi.'"
"I don't go around giving friendly kisses or kisses to say hi," Draco told her irritably.
Hermione couldn't believe he was really upset about this. "I know you don't. But, Draco, it is not like you are the most prolific of kissers."
He clenched his jaw, dropping her arm. "I thought you liked that about me."
"I do!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze in an effort to reassure him. The brown-eyed girl had never given Draco any grief about his lack of kissing experience. In fact, she'd found this particular fact about him utterly adorable and a little flattering. "I just meant that since you haven't experienced the full range of kisses it might be difficult to tell then difference between the various kinds."
Draco cocked at eyebrow at her. "Granger, what in the world are you going on about?"
"I'm trying to explain that there are different categories of kisses. Not all kisses are the romantic variety. There are also kisses that you can share with friends, teasing kisses, angry kisses…"
"Angry kisses?" Draco looked confused. "If you are angry with someone, why in the world would you want to kiss him or her?"
Hermione scrunched up her nose, trying to think of a way to explain it. "It's a way to relieve frustration without continuing to yell at someone."
"I think it sounds completely insensible."
"Really?" Hermione snapped, before reaching up, grabbing him behind the head and pulling his lips down into a brutal kiss. When they finally broke apart, Draco looked like he finally understood what she was talking about.
"So you're telling me that we've been going out for over three weeks and you are just NOW getting around to introducing me to the different categories of kisses? I am beginning to wonder if there are any other girlfriend duties you are failing to fulfill."
Hermione's eyes widened at his words. "Am I your girlfriend?" she asked.
"Well, we are sharing romantic kisses and we are dating exclusively. We are dating exclusively, right?"
Hermione nodded enthusiastically.
"Well, then by definition you are my girlfriend," Draco informed her with a smirk.
Throwing her arms around Draco's neck, Hermione squealed in delight. She pressed kisses all over his face, before pulling back slightly. "Should we Apparate back to my flat and begin your lessons in the different categories of kisses?"
Kissing her lips gently, Draco nodded. "Let's make the first lesson on teasing kisses. That sounds like something a Malfoy would excel at."
Hermione giggled. "Don't sell yourself short, Draco. So far you excel at all types of kisses!"
Draco was flying above the coast enjoying the sea breeze and the sunlight reflecting off the water. As he neared Watergate Bay, he noticed a figure sitting on the top of some rocks jutting out into the waves. When he glided his broom downward to investigate, he was shocked to discover that the person he'd seen from the above was Hermione.
"Granger," he called, landing near her. "What in the world are you doing here?"
"I've had a bit of a mishap," she started to explain. Before she could get any further, however, Draco saw to what she was referring. Instead of legs, Hermione now had a very large fish tail.
"How the bloody hell did that happen?" he demanded.
Hermione just shrugged. "One minute I was at the Ministry reading the report on some rogue Death Eaters who were just captured and the next minute I was here – with this." She flapped her tail up and down several times.
"Merlin," Draco replied, a bit awestruck. He reached out and gently ran his hand down Hermione's scales. "It's beautiful."
She gave him a look full of disgust. "You aren't serious?"
"Well, I can see where it might be a little awkward and impractical."
"A little?" Hermione repeated. "You are really disturbed."
Draco just grinned in response. "So how do women, who are partly fish, kiss?"
"You really don't want to know."
"Oh, I assure you that I do," he smirked.
Hermione gave him a sad smile, "Well then you'd better come closer."
As Draco moved into her embrace and pressed his lips against hers, suddenly something went horribly wrong. He and Hermione were falling off the rock and dropping into the water. He struggled to break loose from her arms to pull them both back to the surface, but she was dragging him under, pulling him deeper and deeper into the sea.
His lungs began to ache, his brain started to shut down, and then all at once –
"Draco, wake up." Hermione was shaking his shoulder gently.
His eyes shot open and immediately sought out the dreadful Muggle cartoon about singing clams and mermaids Hermione had made him to watch.
"Are you okay?" she asked, sounding concerned.
He glanced at her lower body – two legs. He cupped her face and pulled her in closer for a kiss - a nice dry kiss. He released her lips with a contented sigh. "I am okay now."
"Granger, we have GOT to go!" Draco shouted from the sitting room.
She really didn't understand why Draco sounded so irritated. Merlin knew that he had made them late to several events since they'd been dating. She'd completely given up on ever seeing a movie preview again. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy. I'll be right out!"
Hermione had just put in her last earring when Draco stomped into her bedroom. It was his first time in this part of her flat, but he barely even glanced around. "I don't know why you insist on living in a hovel," he sniffed, holding his hand out to her.
"I don't live in a hovel," she replied, taking his hand. "And just what is the big rush anyways?"
Before he could answer, Hermione felt a familiar tug at her navel and suddenly she was being jerked forward, the wind blasting through her hair and blowing at her skirt. After what seemed like an extraordinarily long Portkey journey, Hermione's feet struck the ground and she stumbled into Draco, who held her arm firmly not letting her fall to her knees.
Hermione clenched her teeth together. She had spent a long time getting ready for this evening and now she was windblown and standing in a dark, dirty alley.
"Where are we?" she hissed.
"Come on I'll show you," he smiled, pushing her forward gently.
As soon as they stepped out of the alley, Hermione gasped and her mouth dropped open. There right in front of them, lit up like the Queen Mary on the Thames, was the Eiffel Tower. "Paris?! You brought me to Paris?" she exclaimed, when she could finally talk again. "But it is so difficult and expensive to get international Portkeys made. How in the world did you accomplish it?"
"Granger," he grinned, absolutely delighted at having stunned her. "Have you forgotten just who you are dating?"
Hermione giggled and threw herself into his arms. "What's the occasion?"
"You wound me," he joked. "Don't you remember that tonight is the two month anniversary of our first kiss? It has to be some sort of record."
She shook her head at the blond. "Just because YOU have never been able to sustain a relationship, doesn't mean that the rest of the world is similarly impaired."
He smiled down at her, pushing her hair back from her face. "Surely, we've at least set a record for the longest time a former Slytherin and Gryffindor have dated?"
"Maybe," she responded, part of her mind contemplating if it would be possible to research something like that.
Draco stroked her cheek, causing her to focus on him once again. "You're beautiful," he whispered, before leaning down and claiming her lips in a surprisingly forceful kiss.
Hermione molded herself to his body, allowing him to continue savoring her mouth. When at last he broke away, she had to cling to him to keep from collapsing.
"You know, Granger," he informed her with a slight smirk on his lips. "I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here."
"Really?" she wasn't surprised. The brown-eyed girl had quickly discovered that there was typically an ulterior motive for just about everything that Draco Malfoy did.
"Yea," his smirk grew bigger. "For the last two months, I've been dying for a French Kiss."
"I think it's time we go public with our relationship," Draco Malfoy announced a bit haughtily to his girlfriend.
"Have we been keeping our relationship secret?" Hermione responded with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, there hasn't been a single mention of us dating in the society pages yet."
"None of my friends will believe we are going out until they read about in the Daily Prophet," he explained.
"Why not?" she asked, clearly confused. "They see us out together all the time. Just last week we attended Pansy Parkinson's Slytherin Alumni Soiree, danced every dance with each other, and then left together. Your old housemates would have to be pretty dense not to suspect something was going on between us."
"It has nothing to do with being dense," he told her. "In Wizarding High Society relationships just don't matter until they are officially announced. How do you think so many Pure Blood witches are able to get married as 'technical' virgins?"
Hermione shook her head. "That is just crazy."
"That is the way society works. I mean just look at Blaise Zabini. He was married and had three kids, but until his mother bribed the Prophet to post the wedding banns and birth announcements in the paper, his immediate family simply did not exist. They got no invitations to events, no places saved for them next to Blaise at society functions, and they were ignored by influential social matrons."
"It sounds horribly invasive. I'm not sure I want to participate in such an insidious practice. Maybe we should continue to keep our relationship secret."
Draco smiled at the bushy-haired girl before brushing his lips across hers – once and then twice. He simply adored how utterly naïve and good-hearted she was. It was fortunate for her, however, that she had someone like him to usher her through the unpleasant realities of the world.
"Alright, luv, we can keep it secret. Course, that means I'll just have to keep dodging all the invitations for dates from the single witches I get every week."
Hermione's eyes opened wide and Draco saw a fiery spark of indignation in them. "So how exactly do we go about getting news of our relationship into the Prophet?!" she demanded.
Draco smirked. There was his girl. Lifting her hand to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. "I'll take care of it, Granger."
"You'd better," she grumbled, half-heartedly. "I don't want to chance losing my kissing partner."
Hermione Granger sat cuddled with her boyfriend on the sofa in her living room.
"Draco, you're sneaky and devious, right?"
Looking down at her, the blond responded somewhat arrogantly, "I believe the words you are looking for are astute and cunning."
Giggling, Hermione snuggled deeper into his arms. "Of course, that is what I meant."
Draco kissed the top of her head gently. He was quite certain he was in love with the brown-eyed witch, but had not worked up the courage yet to tell her.
"I was wondering if you'd be willing to use some of your Slytherin perception and shrewdness to help out a friend of mine?"
"What's in it for me?"
"You'd have my gratitude," she informed him.
Draco appeared to consider it for a moment. "Interesting, but not compelling."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'd be in your debt."
"There you go, luv," he smirked. Draco couldn't imagine a better incentive than having the incredibly smart and sexy witch owing him a favor. "What can I do for this friend of yours?"
"She wants to know how one goes about seducing a wizard."
"Has she tried parading around him topless?"
Hermione choked back a laugh. "I'm not sure she is bold enough for that."
Shifting slightly, he pulled the bushy-haired girl more firmly into his embrace. "She can just come out and tell him she wants to shag."
"She doesn't want to appear too forward or aggressive."
"I can assure you that unless the bloke is a pouf, he's not going to mind."
Hermione shrugged. "Perhaps, but he is a bit old fashioned and she would like him to think it's his idea."
Draco nodded and then seriously considered the question for several seconds. "She is going to have to kiss him."
"But, she's kissed him before and it hasn't led… ur… it hasn't led to the bedroom."
"It can't be a typical kiss, Granger. It has to be extraordinarily romantic. It should take his breath away, stop his heart, and curl his toes. It should be a kiss that makes him forget about everything and everyone else in the world. It should start slowly at his lips, but not stop until it has captured his soul. It has to be a kiss that expresses the full extent of what your friend feels about this bloke – so moving – so tender – that he never wants it to end. A kiss like that would seduce a man's mind and not just his body."
Hermione lay her head on his shoulder and looked up into his grey eyes. She was quite certain, although she hadn't admitted out loud yet, that she loved him. "Show me."
Smirking slightly, Draco proceeded to do just that.
When Hermione awoke the next morning, tangled in the sheets and wrapped around the sleeping form of one very sated and content Draco Malfoy, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Dumbledore was right and Hogwarts did sort students into Houses too early. Surely, SHE belonged in Slytherin just as much as she ever had Gryffindor.
AN: Many great thanks to Sugarquill39 and Ellae for doing the beta work on this!