It feels like forever since I've posted anything, I don't know what's wrong me. Actually I do; I've been working on this story, here! (I like to write the entire thing, all chapters included, before I post it so I know that I have it all finished and whatnot..)
Anyway, first thing's first: I just want it to be known that I do not condone what this story is obviously about. I don't condone cheating or anything of the sort, don't care who you are or where you're from. I've never been cheated on myself, but if I was I'm fairly certain I would punch somebody… However the idea just sort of popped into my head, danced around for a couple days and finally I decided to just see where it took me – and this is story is the result. It will be posted in 11 parts, and although everything is written, not everything has been edited so there will be a wait-time.
The idea I had was to take a simple, extramarital/illicit affair and explore it – how it would happen, why it would continue to happen, etc. And despite being against affairs in general I started to think about it in a different light, so to speak. For example, affairs are often times more about sex and excitement and all that fun stuff, but I imagine a lot of times they can turn into a relationship of their own.
That's what this story is mostly about. It's definitely about an affair, but it's about the relationship that forms within the affair. Get it?
I dunno. Like I said, the idea just sort of came to me and wouldn't leave me alone so I wrote about it.
Diary of an Illicit Love Affair
Chapters of an affair, through the eyes of two lovers: an unfaithful husband and his mistress.
[One: An Attraction]
April 7, 2005
Monday morningcomes far too quickly for Hermione Granger. For a woman who normally likes Mondays, because it means following routines and rules for the next five days, she finds that she is truly dreading going into work this morning. For the rest of her life, really. She just simply is not looking forward to facing a certain blond coworker of hers, who has done nothing but ridicule, humiliate and make her life a living hell for the last five years – 15 years if you count what he did to her during school. Especially after certain events had taken place Friday evening, after which she spent the rest of what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing weekend trying to remove the memories of that particular event out of her head.
[The way his hands ignited little sparks across her skin. The way his mouth devoured her own, hungry and desperate and oh-so dominating. The way his fingers felt as they-]
She has yet to even come up with an excuse for her actions – let alone an explanation for his. Her mind had gone foggy the moment he kissed her. And his hands were just so...distracting. She could hardly tell up from down, forget telling him to stop. Not that she had wanted to because, well...
Her mind is still foggy. And her thoughts are still distracted. And she swears her skin is stillon fire. Needless to say she isn't all prepared for this particular Monday morning.
Which is why she will find herself rushing into her office late for the first time in her entire career.
She takes a 25-minute shower instead of her usual 15 – so she uses magic to dry and do her hair rather than letting it dry on its own.
What usually only takes five minutes to choose an outfit, takes 20 – because nearly everything she owns seems entirely too revealing now.
By the time she leaves her flat, she's nearly a half an hour late. She walks into the Ministry building with her head down and makes her way straight to the elevator. When she gets off the elevator on her floor, the secretary bids her good morning, which she returns quickly as she walks past the desks and down the hall towards her office.
Once inside, she shrugs her jacket off and hangs it on the hook on the back of door and sets her purse across the room on her desk. She rushes about her office and gathers a few file folders out of the top drawer of her desk before rushing down the hall to the board room.
She manages to make it through the morning without running into him. It was simple enough, really, considering he's been especially busy with work these days. She knows that her lunch hour will be the most difficult time to get past, seeing as he takes his lunch at the same time. Still, she remains hopeful.
Her hope, however, is crushed when he corners her in the kitchen on their floor. She'd made the mistake of traveling alone.
She closes the fridge after pouring herself a glass of water and the sight of him leaning back against the counter startles her. She jumps back, clutching her chest with her free hand. His arms are crossed over his chest, his legs are crossed at the ankles and he's wearing that unbelievably attractive smirk on his thin, pale lips.
"You've been avoiding me."
"Oh? Seems I'm doing a terrible job then," she retorts, walking past him.
He's fast on her heels, following her as she travels back to her office. "I don't like to be ignored or avoided, Granger."
"I don't like to be followed, Malfoy. We can't always get what we want." She turns to him when they reach her office, looking at him expectantly. She'll be damned if she has to spend time alone with him on a room.
He stands in front of her, looking cocky and smug as he cocks his head to the side.
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. But I'm not inviting you in." Turning on her heel, she walks back into her office and closes the door behind it, locking it in an attempt to keep him out. When she turns around, she's startled – again – to find him leaning against her desk. She glowers at him. "You're impossible," she mutters.
"You didn't honestly think locking the door would keep me out, did you? I am a wizard, you know."
"Yeah. And an annoying one."
He lifts his hand to his chest, resting it above his heart with a look of mock hurt plastered to his perfect little face. "You wound me, Granger."
"Good. Now get out of my office," she demands.
"Aw, c'mon, Love. You don't reallywant that. Do you?"
His gaze is heavy. Intense. Captivating. She can already feel herself melting before him.
[A slow, shaky breath. A gutteral groan. Hard, desperate thrusts. Skin slapping against skin. Whispers and moans and cries. More. Harder. Faster. Draco.]
In lightening-like speed, he closes the gap between them. He strokes her cheek with the back of his knuckles on his right hand and tugs at a curl with his left.
"Stop," she breathes.
He ignores her, gazing at the curly lock of brown hair he starts to twirl around his finger. "Why've you been avoiding me?"
"You know why," she whispers. She wants to move away from him, to put as much distance between them as possible but her body won't comply to what her mind is demanding of her. Step away. Tell him to leave. Run.
"Tell me," he whispers, lifting his penetrating grey eyes to bore into hers. She tries to focus on the tiny blue specs hiding in his eyes, but the feeling of his fingers trailing down her neck and across her collar bone are distracting. He leans in, tilting his head next to hers as his lips graze her ear. "Tell me. Say it, Granger," he murmurs. His breath is hot and sticky and oh-so-inviting against the side of her face.
The hair on the back of her neck stands up and her abdomen tightens at his words. She feels warm all over; hot way down there, and her knees are beginning to buckle. Her body is betraying her. Again.
"Please go," she whimpers, with what little dignity she has left.
A low chuckle escapes his throat as he pulls back enough to look her straight in the eye. "As you wish."
When he leaves, leaving the door open behind him, she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She practically falls into her chair, leaning forward with her head in her hands as she takes a few deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm down.
Damn Draco Malfoy.
The restof the day moves far too slowly. At around 1:30 p.m. She's called back into the board room. This time he's there too, sitting at the opposite end of the table. She feels his gaze on her the entire time, and whenever she chances a glance in his direction, he continues to stare. His gaze is hot and cold at the same time, loaded with lust and desire.
She fights the pull in her body trying to coax her into leaping across the table at him with everything she has.
When the meeting is over, she runs back to her office and far, far away from him.
April 10, 2005
Everywhere shegoes, she sees him. And every time she sees him, he's staring at her like he wants to rip her apart – or at least her clothes.
She goes out for dinner with Ginny on Thursday, to Diagon Alley. They talk girl-talk – clothes, gossip, relationships. Three weeks after getting married, Ginny is still very much in the honeymoon stage. A part of her is bitter and jealous, but a larger part is so blissfully happy. Especially for Harry.
After dinner, they take a walk down the street and venture into the book store. They part ways, agreeing to tackle the store separately and meet up afterward. As she wanders down the first aisle, sliding her index finger along the spines of the books, she catches a glimpse of blond hair out of the corner of her eye. When she turns her head, however, he's gone. Great, she thinks. Now you're imagining him. You're losing it, Granger. She turns the corner and wanders down the second aisle.
He's there. Leaning his right shoulder against the book case. She glares at him, ignoring the longing glint in his dark, grey eyes. "Why are you stalking me?" she hisses, keeping her voice low as she crosses her arms over her chest.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
"Why does it matter?"
He doesn't answer; just stares.
She turns her attention back to her initial quest to find a new book, trying desperately to ignore the warm, tingly feeling all over her body. Her first reaction is to be angry and creeped out that he keeps following her. But as she's been thinking about it for a few days now, she finds it sort of...exciting.
In just a few long strides, he's standing right behind her. She can feel the soft fabric of his jacket brushing against the bare skin of her back; damn her stupid dress for such a low back. The air gets caught in her throat when she feels his breath on the back of her neck, brushing through her hair. Her stomach clenches and her palms begin to sweat.
"Lucky for you, Granger, I know exactlywhy you're avoiding me," he murmurs in her ear.
"O-Oh?" she wonders, cursing the shakiness in her breath. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before spinning around to face him. She glares at him. "And why's that?"
He smirks, taking a single step back. "You can't stop thinking about me."
She blinks, taken aback.
"Which is fine, since I can't stop thinking about you either."
"It was a mistake."
"Hell of a mistake, Granger," he whispers.
"You took advantage of me," she snaps.
"Oh, Granger. I seduced you. There's a difference."
"Not really," she retorts. She turns her back on him and continues down the aisle; he follows.
"I just want to talk, Granger."
She snorts, rolling her eyes. "You're forgetting that I know you, Malfoy. And I know that the last thing on your mind is talking."
He smirks, leaning in when she stops go read the back of a book. "You're always so...right."
"Even if I wanted to talk to you – which I don't – I don't have time right now. Ginny's here. But you already know that, don't you?"
"Tomorrow. The little muggle coffee shop down the street from your little muggle flat. Five o'clock."
She turns her head to look at him, and only then does she realize how close he is because his breath is fanning across her face. He smells like peppermint toothpaste. "O-okay," she stutters.
Only after he leaves, and she goes back home alone does she realize she's agreed to meet Draco Malfoy for coffee. Like a date.
April 11, 2005
At 4:57p.m. she decides not to go.
At 5:17 there's a knock at the door and she knows exactly who it is before she even opens it. Standing in her doorway, with his hands in his pockets is the man she's been trying to avoid all week long. He's staring at her – glaring at her, really. He's angry that she stood him up, although he doesn't say it. Just stares, with dark grey eyes full of lust and desire and something else she can't quite read.
She knows she should close the door. She knows she should put an end to this before it goes too far.
Before someone gets hurt.
But all too quickly one of his hands is in her hair and the other is around her waist and he's kissing her hard, rough, passionate. She loses her own hands in his hair, tugging softly as he pulls her body flush against his. He invites himself in, kicking the door shut behind them as they stumble into the nearest wall. His hands are everywhere, all over her body as he tugs at her clothes – ripping her dress shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, to reveal the white lace bra underneath, undoing her skirt and pushing it down her tanned, smooth legs, popping the clasp of her bra with one hand as he hurriedly lifts her off the floor by her bum. She moans into his mouth as he slams her back against the wall, pressing himself, hard, against her.
She rips her lips away from him, panting and throwing her head back as she struggles to catch her breath and he trails hot, wet kisses down her throat. Her chest rises and falls with every breath she takes, pushing against his face as he licks his way across her chest, moving her bra out of the way. Her fingers, thin and clumsy, begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, brushing against the skin beneath the thin fabric as she goes. He grunts in response. And while she pushes the offending material off of his broad shoulders, he shrugs out of it using his pelvis to hold her against the wall.
His lips find hers aggressively, demandingly, as he hoists her up higher on his waist. He makes quick work of both his trousers and his boxers. The sound of his belt hitting the hardwood floor resonates in her ears but she doesn't care. All she cares about is the fires he's igniting on her skin with his fingers as he grips her thighs so hard she's sure he's going to leave bruises. All she can focus on is the hot, clenching feeling in the pit of her stomach and the coil begging to be released as he dry-humps her into the wall. His manhood, long, thick and hard, teases her through the fabric of her knickers.
He uses his right hand to hold her face in place as he continues to kiss her, demanding dominance, as his left delves into her knickers. In one swift moment he pushes two fingers inside her and rubs her clit with his thumb. He has complete and total control of her now – of her pain, of her pleasure.
She's only vaguely aware of the cool sensation of his wedding ring against her hot, wet, sensitive flesh before she comes apart around his fingers. She cries out, bucking into his hand as she rides out her first orgasm. It's like she's flying and falling at the same time.
Within seconds of coming down, he has her knickers pushed to the side and his manhood at her entrance. She squeezes her eyes shut, thrusting her hips forward as she attempts to draw him in.
His voice is hoarse and shaky when he speaks, his breath fanning over her sweat-slicked face as he presses his forehead against hers. "Look at me."
She does as she's told, brown colliding with grey as he slides slowly into her. He doesn't move at first, giving them both a moment to collect themselves. He smirks when she's the first to move, thrusting her hips forward. "Eager?" he rasps.
She moans in response. "Please, Malfoy," she breathes.
And then it's all hard, rough, powerful thrusts and breathy moans and skin slapping against skin as he takes her against the wall in the front hall of her flat. He drives her so hard into the wall it's painful, but she begs for more.
She's the first to unravel, clamping down around him as she moans his name into his ear and tightens her arms around his neck. He follows immediately after, giving her one last hard thrust as he buries himself to the hilt and drops his forehead into the crook of his neck.
"Fuck, Granger," he pants.
"You just did."
He chuckles, pulling his head back before planting one more scorching kiss against her already bruised and battered lips.
To be continued..