A/N: So this little plot bunny came to me in my sleep. Literally. It was part of an extremely bizarre dream I had. Anyway, since the poll on my profile told me that the people wanted me to write a Dramione, I figured I might as well do it. I've always been fascinated by the pairing, and now I've written it. Don't hate if it's not great…just appreciate the attempt!
Thanks for pelespen for looking this over for me. You're the best, girl!
THIS IS FOR YOU, AMY, M'DEAR!
Summary: A chance meeting on the Astronomy Tower leads to a moment that neither Draco nor Hermione will ever forget.
A Stolen Moment
Cool silver-grey met blazing hazel-brown as two sworn rivals stared unblinkingly at each other. Wands drawn in steady, almost defiant control, their bodies were taut – ready for battle. A haughty head of blond hair surveyed his opponent with an arrogant sneer, though the sneer faltered under the flashing, fiery heat that scorched from under a head of thick, unruly chestnut curls. Knuckles white, heads raised, stances solid, they surveyed each other critically, both acknowledging the angry, wet tear tracks that cut into their pale cheeks.
"What are you doing up here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the fury from her voice.
"I don't need to answer to you, Granger," came the sharp reply, his hand curling even tighter around the pale hawthorn wood of his wand.
"It's after hours and I'm the prefect on duty, Malfoy, so yes, you need to answer to me," she replied, trying to will the tears from spilling from her eyes until she was out of the presence of the infuriating pureblood.
He regarded her for a minute more, as if contemplating the appropriate hex to use in order to gain the upper hand of the admittedly advantageous position he had caught her in. Hermione silently cursed her impulsive choice to rush blindly up to the Astronomy Tower without a cloak or a thought of impending danger. She could almost hear Mad-Eye Moody's disappointed voice in her head saying, "You deserve this, Miss Granger. Constant vigilance!"
'Nothing to be done about it now,' Hermione thought bitterly. 'Best try and be as prepared as possible.'
As she started to make a mental tabulation of all the possible defensive spells she could think of – ranging from a shield spell to the immediate counter-jinx of the jelly-legs jinx – she found herself struck by the fact that Draco had not hexed her yet. He hadn't done anything, actually. His grip on his wand had slackened, and he almost looked as if he was about to put the infernal thing away.
"I'm not going to stay up here all night staring at you," she said evenly – or as evenly as she could with the adrenaline pounding in her ears, "Why don't you just go back to the dungeons and no one will get hurt – or in trouble."
Draco arched an eyebrow and Hermione could have sworn that his lip twitched slightly in amusement. Unsettled by the action, Hermione frowned, her grip on her own wand tightening.
"I…I mean it, Malfoy. All I want is a little bit a solitude, so go back down to your common room and let's be done with this."
"A little bit of solitude? Potty and the Weasel letting you off your leash? Or is this a clandestine trip?"
Hermione's nostrils flared.
"Piss off, Malfoy," she snapped.
He tilted his head, a tiny smirk on his face.
"What's got your knickers in a twist tonight, Granger? Boo-hoo-ing because Potter's Slughorn's best student these days? Crying because you're not the best anymore?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes as she tilted her chin up. Obnoxious as Harry's newfound – and not entirely deserved – Potions popularity was, she liked to consider herself above such petty jealousies. As Draco looked at her, however, she could feel her resolve cracking, knowing – somehow – that he could read everything in her eyes.
The hours that had passed before she had found herself looking down the end of Draco Malfoy's wand had been a blur of conflicting emotions. It had been the first Quidditch game of the season – Gryffindor vs. Slytherin – and Hermione had been cheering until her throat was hoarse. Windswept and laughing, she had returned with her friends to celebrate Gryffindor and Ron's triumph, the enjoyment doubling when Harry had revealed that Ron's performance had, in fact, been his own and not the influence of Felix Felicis as she had originally thought.
Having harboured a not-so-secret crush on the gangly redhead for years, Hermione had been caught up in the delightful sparkle in his blue eyes until suddenly – heartbreakingly – those eyes were closed. A head of sleek, beautiful blonde hair had suddenly obscured her view as Lavender Brown – beauty of the sixth year Gryffindors – took the opportunity to show Ron just what she thought of him and Ron, though surprised, seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
She had barely had time to swallow the hot lump of sudden embarrassment and self-loathing that had inched its way up her throat before she was running; running away from the Gryffindor common room, from the celebrations, and from Ronald bloody Weasley as tears of unrequited emotions poured down her cheeks. She barely noticed her surroundings as her feet carried her to the only place she could think of that would afford her the solitude and privacy she desperately needed: the Astronomy Tower.
It was there she had found Draco – also crying – leaning against the railing and mumbling incoherent, angry words to the darkening sky. She had barely cleared the final stair when she noticed him, but by that point he had heard her and whipped around, wand at the ready. By instinct she pulled hers out and pointed it at him.
Which was where they were now.
"It's not Potter," Draco said, his words curious but for some reason not particularly unkind. "It's Weasley, isn't it?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business, and I'd thank you to leave your nose out of my affairs," she said tersely.
His brow furrowed.
"What did he do to you?" he asked, though the question didn't seem to be directed to her in particular. His tone was soft – particularly disconcerting for her – but in an instant, the almost-tender look he was giving her was gone and he was once again the living mirror of his father's cold, dark sneer.
"I'm not surprised he's dumped you," Draco said maliciously. "Been waiting for it to happen. He may be a blood traitor but at least he has standards..."
Hermione's hand struck his cheek before he could finish the sentence.
The sound of the slap she had delivered seemed to echo off the wood and stone that surrounded him, and Draco's eyes went a little wide as he pressed his own palm to his pinking cheek. Hermione's eyes flashed, as if daring him to retaliate, her wand once more drawn and pointed at his chest.
Draco's lip twitched again.
"That's the second time you've hit me, Granger," he commented, dabbing his lip to make sure there was no blood.
"I dare you to provoke me for a third," she growled.
"You've got a fiery temper for a Mud-…"
Hermione's hand flew, but he caught her wrist, tugging it behind her back and spinning her into his body in a surprisingly-dexterous show of skill. His other hand gripped her other wrist, her back pressed against his chest as she felt his warm breath on her neck. Her pulse quickened at the sudden bondage and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.
"I think you should know," he whispered in her ear. "You're really rather stunning when you're angry."
Hermione's eyes widened, her brain trying to wrap itself around this new piece of information that seemed so disjointed – so utterly incongruent with the situation of life as she knew it. Draco Malfoy could not find her attractive in any situation. He loathed and detested her, and she loathed and detested him right back. It was impossible for those emotions to swing to such a fundamentally impossible place like desire.
But as she inhaled the scent of him – sandalwood and myrrh – she couldn't help her body's reaction to the sudden, inexplicable chemistry that exploded between them. Her mother's voice warned her of the stereotypical bad boy, but she knew in her heart she had always had a soft spot for the dark ones. How else could she explain the thrill that had shot through her every time Sirius shot her a look when he was brooding in Grimmauld Place the year before, or the delicious naughtiness of sneaking around with Viktor when her own friends considered him the 'enemy'?
As heat pooled down to her loins, Hermione thought with a small, thrilling shiver that Draco must be really bad to cause such a reaction within her.
"L…let go of me," Hermione said, struggling half-heartedly out of his grasp but failing as his grip on her tightened to an almost painful level.
"I don't think you really want me to," he purred in her ear.
In truth she didn't. Though he infuriated her beyond all possible reasonability, she did not want to leave the heat that emanated through this man. He was tall and lean and dark and nothing like anyone she should have been with but in that moment – that one, stolen moment – she could not see herself with anyone else.
"Kiss me, Draco, before I lose my mind," she heard herself say.
Soft, thin lips descended on hers and soon she found herself pressed against one of the stone pillars of the tower. She groaned, her freed arms encircling his neck, greedy fingers diving into his silky blond hair. He groaned against her mouth as his hands smoothed down her body, resting on the small patch of skin that sat between her jeans and her jumper.
"You tell anyone about this," she whispered, closing her eyes as his lips traveled down her neck. "And I'll turn you into a ferret again."
He gave a deep chuckle, the vibrations rippling across her skin.
"Not bloody likely that I'll broadcast this, Granger," he murmured.
It was odd, Hermione thought, that she could so loathe this man – wish for his demise on given days – and yet be so heated by his touch. Someone very wise had said there was a fine line between love and hate. The last coherent thought Hermione Granger had was that it wasn't between love and hate, but lust and hate.
And dear Merlin, was it blurring by the second.
"You taste…like…peaches," Draco mumbled against her skin as his fingers plucked at the tiny buttons of her jumper.
"You taste like heat," she replied, not worrying about such trifling matters as logic in her sentence structure. The truth was that she felt scorched under his kisses and she loved it.
Her jumper fell to the ground and she took the initiative to explore him, running her hands underneath his impeccably crisp black Oxford shirt and feeling the smooth musculature beneath her fingers. Unable to find the patience to unbutton the infernal shirt that was keeping her unhindered gaze from his body, Hermione ripped the shirt apart, buttons flying everywhere.
"You owe me a new shirt, Granger," Draco growled, crushing her mouth with his after his hands deftly pulled her red-and-gold t-shirt from her body. Hermione shivered as the cold air whipped around her but the amazing sensation of skin-on-skin almost made her forget that they were about to shag in the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts Castle.
Sense somehow permeated through her lust-filled haze and she pushed him away.
"Wait," she said, looking up into his eyes. "Why…I mean…I know why I'm…why are you…?" She let the question trail off but he knew what she was asking.
"You pretend I'm Weasley," he said simply. "And I'll pretend I still have a soul."
Hermione's eyes softened as she looked at him, and she snaked her hand around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. This one wasn't as fiery or passionate as the ones they had shared earlier, but she knew it was what he needed. And as he inched her jeans down her legs, she was very aware that the man in front of her was Draco Malfoy – Slytherin sex god – and not her thick-headed but well-meaning redheaded best friend.
The kissing turned more and more passionate as they lost more clothing. First her jeans, then his belt and trousers. Then her underwear. Then his. Completely naked, pressed against a pillar of the Astronomy Tower, Hermione gazed into Draco's flashing silver eyes – the life in them reflecting in the moonlight – and wrapped her leg around his waist as he thrust himself inside her.
He froze when she winced.
"Granger…" he said hoarsely. "Were you…?"
"Shut up and don't move," she hissed, willing the tears from her eyes. It wasn't the screaming pain she had heard about from Lavender and Parvati when the two were whispering – albeit not quite as quietly as they liked to think they were – in the dorm late at night, but it still pinched. The look in his eyes as her body slowly accommodated his body, however, made the moment of pain worth it.
Nodding to her lover, Hermione signaled that it was alright. Draco started to roll his hips, holding her leg up against his body as he looked into her eyes. The build in her stomach was equaled in intensity only to the burning look in his eyes as he watched her. They were both panting, knowing that they could get caught at any moment, but in those precious seconds, they were taking and giving exactly what they needed from each other.
"Hermione…" Draco whispered, his head dropping to her shoulder as he grunted, thrusting his hips harder and pressing her firmly into the wall. The stones scratched the skin on her back but as she raked her fingers through his hair, feeling the coil tighten in her body with every movement, she didn't care.
"Kiss me, Draco," she breathed, feeling him press his lips to hers tenderly despite the frantic, pleading friction between them. Bringing a hand up to her face, he cupped her cheek, stroking the soft flesh as he moved harder and faster against her. She gasped, and he groaned, and they both fell over the edge.
Hermione felt the heat spin through her as his hands fell to her hips, gripping them tightly as his body tensed. She clawed at his back, feeling welt under her fingers. She clung to him, feeling his body release inside her own sweetly gripping one. His eyes were closed, but the momentary look of peace on his face made her heart flutter slightly.
In a moment it was gone, and they were several feet apart, blushingly fumbling with their clothes as the clock tower chimed the late hour.
"I…I'm sorry," Draco finally said as he shrugged his shirt on, summoning all of the buttons that had remained on the tower floor to him and repairing the shirt as best he could.
"What for?" she asked.
His pale cheeks pinked slightly.
"I…I didn't realize it was your first time." A dark look settled in his eyes. "I didn't want to take that…I've already taken so much…"
"Draco," she said, cupping his face in her hands as she saw tears start to well in his eyes. "You didn't take anything I didn't freely give."
"But to me?" he said desperately. "You hate me, and you'll regret this and…"
"I don't hate you," she said. "Dislike you intensely, yes. But I don't hate you. And I won't regret this."
"How do you know?" he asked bitterly.
She smiled slightly.
"Because I got to see a side of Draco Malfoy that no one's seen. And I will hold that to my heart and hope that once this war is over, if we're still alive, I might be able to see that side again."
He looked deeply into her eyes.
"You're a Mudblood. And I'm a pureblood. This…no matter what happens…it will never work."
"I know," she said, barely cringing at the word that seemed to lose more power by the second. "And I don't want it to. I've had my stolen moment."
A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips.
"You're…you're so…" He seemed to have trouble verbalizing the words, so she simply smiled at him.
"Go, Malfoy," she said, adding a lilt of bossiness to her tone. "Before I deduct points from Slytherin."
His eyes sparkled briefly with mirth.
"I could take points from Gryffindor, Granger," he warned.
"You'd have to say why. And I have a legitimate reason. I'm on duty, and you're out of bed."
He gave her a long, steady look, and nodded curtly before walking down the Astronomy Tower stairs and disappearing from view.
Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and leaned against the railing. Somewhere in her mind her logical side was screaming at her. She just fucked Draco Malfoy? In the Astronomy Tower? After he insulted her?
'Yes,' she thought to herself. 'Yes, I did.'
Smiling slightly, she walked down the steps and headed toward the Gryffindor tower with a small spring to her step. She knew what awaited in front of her. Ron and Lavender, who would undoubtedly be all over each other, and Harry, who – in spite of his mild emotional stupidity – knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't be thrilled about the new couple.
She was about to step back into her reality. She took a deep breath, and plunged in.
20 years later…
Hermione glanced over at the slightly balding, sharply-dressed silver-eyed man down the way a bit from her on Platform 9 and ¾. He had just nodded to Harry, who was standing next to her and Ron with Ginny, and Ron had – predictably – made a disparaging comment regarding their former foe's appearance.
Draco caught her eye and smiled, nodding to her. She nodded back, a small smile of her own.
They were both married. They both had children. They were both happy – for the most part – and comfortable in their lives.
But in that moment, when his eyes had locked with hers, they had shared that stolen moment all over again.
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!