Water - Chapter 21. (Part Two)

[cupcaked]

Disclaimer: All these characters belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing!

Warnings: Sexual content, Strong language

Chapter 21. (Part Two)

Harry sat with Hermione for another hour after they got back to her dormitory. She was grateful. The place was so empty now that Draco had gone and Professor Dumbledore was still finalising which of the deputy heads would be taking his place.

They talked. Sometimes about something, other times about nothing. It was comforting and it was warm. It was familiar and it calmed Hermione more than she could have hoped for. The pain in her stomach seemed duller with it.

Neither of them mentioned the kiss. They didn’t even allude to it. It wasn’t as if it never happened, but more that there was unspoken understanding between them over what it meant. To both of them. Hermione needed it and she was almost sure that Harry did to.

Harry needed it to remind him that he didn’t really need it. And Hermione needed it to remind her who it was she really did need.

After he kissed her on the cheek and left, Hermione sat staring at the blazing fire in front of her. The room was quiet but for the crackle of sparks that flew out every now and again from the fireplace.

That short time with Harry had soothed the surface of her mind. But it wasn’t long before she was thinking about him again.

Draco.

The pain in her stomach returned with a sharp thud.

Maybe Harry was right. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she knew this all along but was too absolutely terrified to admit it.

Everything she had felt since closing that door on him had been so beyond any pain Draco had caused her with hurtful words or desperate violence. It was a different kind of pain that she had caused herself. And it felt so much worse.

She didn’t want to explain it. She didn’t want to wonder why it felt like that. She didn’t want to attribute it to the fact that telling Draco she didn’t love him was one of the most impossible things she had ever done. So impossible that she could hardly believe she’d done it.

Not because she was sure that she did love him. Because all she knew about love, from books and films and family, was nothing like what this was. It was nothing like what she felt for him. Love seemed too...normal.

It was just that love seemed to be the closest word to it. Love seemed to be the only word available to describe it. So telling him that she didn’t love him had to be a lie if she had any hope of truly defining what she felt.

Hermione began to think about how she could possibly tell Draco about this lie. About how she could tell him that she was completely wrong and she knew it. Because this feeling scared her so much she felt she was losing herself to it, and Hermione didn’t want to keep losing herself. She felt like she had already lost too much. The feeling made her feel entirely dependent on something else. She hated it.

Telling him was dangerous. Telling him wouldn’t let her go back. No pretending, no changing her mind based on how much regret she felt in her stomach that morning. It would be a commitment to what they had.

There had to be conditions. Something had to change if she were to keep her grip on reality and not fall so completely into him that she forgot where she was or what she wanted to do with her life. Because that was how he made her feel. Like forgetting those things were possible.

If she was going to tell him- if she was going to acknowledge everything he said to her and return it completely- then she absolutely had to settle some things in her head.

The thoughts swam in her mind, uncertainties crowding her already saturated skull.

But she wanted him. And she needed him.

About that she was sure.

*

Harry was making his way back to the common room after leaving Hermione.

He hadn’t made it far before he heard him.

“What’s it like being you, Potter?”

There would never be a good time to hear that voice.

Harry stopped walking.

“Malfoy,” he acknowledged tonelessly. He turned round slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly in Draco’s direction.

The corridor was poorly lit by the flickering fire lanterns on the walls.

“Well?” prompted Draco. He was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and his head cocked down. His body was cast in dark shadow. Harry must have walked straight past him without noticing.

Harry inhaled to steady himself. “It’s great,” he replied, flatly, before exhaling loudly. “But really, Malfoy, I don’t want to do this tonight.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever this is.” He motioned between them. “We said all that needed to be said in the hospital wing last week.”

Draco nodded, slowly. “Right,” he murmured. His posture remained unmoving against the wall. After a short while, he spoke again. “It’s not really about that, though.”

Harry silently debated on whether or not he should take the bait. If he turned around and walked away now, he would prevent anymore trouble from happening. Because trouble always happened when they spoke. And he couldn’t afford to be sitting in the Headmaster’s office again.

He had completely exhausted his strength today in listening to Hermione’s unspoken feelings towards Draco. It took so much to acknowledge them, so much to point them out to her. And only his love for his best friend could convince him to do that.

With Draco Malfoy, there was nothing to convince him to be strong.

Harry turned back to start walking again.

“Oh, don’t run away, Potter,” moaned Draco, sarcastically, “We haven’t even thrown punches yet.”

“Look, Malfoy,” replied Harry, stopping again to turn his head, “I’m doing us both a favour. Especially you. You’re hardly in a position to survive anymore trouble.”

“So people keep telling me.”

“Well maybe you should listen to them.” Harry turned to go again.

Draco laughed. It was a biting laugh.

Harry kept walking.

“I don’t want to fight, Potter,” Draco called after him, “I just have one question. Surely you can allow me that much?”

Harry paused. Despite his better judgement, he once again turned back to face him. “What is it?” he asked, a trace of impatience in his voice.

It was a few moments before Draco answered him. “You’ve seen her today.”

It didn’t sound like a question. So Harry didn’t reply.

“Was she- is she alright?”

Draco’s words took Harry by surprise. Perhaps they shouldn’t have. But they did all the same.

Harry shrugged. He didn’t like his concern. He couldn’t swallow it.

“I haven’t spoken to her since- since I left the dormitory a few nights ago,” continued Draco.

“I know,” said Harry, making no attempt to hide the disdain in his voice.

“You know?”

Harry nodded.

Draco adjusted himself then, pushing back from the wall and straightening his posture. “What did she say?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

“Ask her yourself, Malfoy. I’m not playing messenger. Especially not with you.”

“I just want to know how she is.”

Harry shrugged again, reluctant to answer. “She’s been pretty out of it.”

Draco nodded, expressionless.

“But then she’s been like that for a while,” added Harry, in the kind of tone that he hoped implied it was Draco’s fault.

“Right,” was all he murmured in response.

“Right,” Harry repeated back at him.

Was that it? Was he just checking up on Hermione?

If that’s all it was, Harry really didn’t have the patience for it. He wanted nothing to do with Draco, regardless of how involved he was with Hermione.

Harry turned to leave again.

“Wait-” called Draco, “-I haven’t asked you my question yet.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“No I haven’t.”

“You asked if she was alright, and I told you.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Harry sighed. “What is it, Malfoy? Just get it over with.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. His stare caused Harry to shift uncomfortably.

“Well?” he asked, impatiently.

“Did you kiss her, Potter?”

The question momentarily knocked the breath out of Harry as if it came out of nowhere. It was almost as if he hadn’t been expecting any kind of question at all.

How did he...?

Harry cleared his throat in an effort to quickly disguise his surprise.

Maybe he saw.

But what did it matter if Malfoy knew? If he could kiss Hermione then Harry sure as hell could. And he didn’t have to answer to Malfoy when he did.

Of course, it wasn’t actually like that. It wasn’t - a kiss. Not for Hermione. And perhaps not for Harry, either - not once he’d broken away from her and reality hit him square in the face.

But it was so tempting to make Draco think it was like that. Just for a few moments, at least. Just so he felt a fraction of the betrayal Harry had felt.

As Harry stayed silent, frustration flashed across Draco’s face.

“Potter?” he murmured, barely masking a growl.

Harry saw Draco’s fists tighten at his sides.

Here we go. But maybe Harry only had himself to blame this time. Not that Hermione belonged to Malfoy. Harry would never fully accept that prospect - no matter what he told Hermione. At best, he would pretend to put up with it.

Harry wondered if he should really be keeping silent. Perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to do. It wasn’t fair on her. Not after all those unspoken feelings he saw earlier in her eyes.

“At least have the courtesy to answer me,” hissed Draco, breaking another long silence.

“Look, Malfoy-”

“It’s a fucking yes or no question, Potter.”

Would Hermione want Draco to know? Is it a good idea to tell him the truth?

Harry could scarcely believe he was even asking himself that question. Hermione may care about Draco’s feelings but Harry certainly didn’t. Not even enough to cover for her.

“You want me to answer, Malfoy?” he replied, tensing his muscles in unconscious preparation for the consequences, “Yes. We kissed.”

Or she kissed me. And I kissed back. And it was amazing but I know I’ll never have it again.

And I’m okay with that.

Draco’s face was unreadable. He seemed frozen in his position - fists clenched and eyes narrowed.

A long moment passed.

Harry eyed him cautiously. “Are you debating what to do, Malfoy? Wondering if you have the right to do anything at all?”

No movement.

“‘Cos I’m betting you don’t,” Harry added.

“Fuck you.”

Something in the way Draco said those words made Harry feel uncomfortable. Like maybe he shouldn’t be looking for a reaction in him after all.

Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

Another moment passed. Harry watched Draco’s face. He was no longer staring at Harry. His eyes had drifted just to the left at him. Now he was staring at nothing.

Harry shook his head. “Why did you have to ask?” It surprised him how much quieter his voice was.

Draco’s eyes snapped back to his. “The same reason you had to ask,” he murmured.

Understanding washed over Harry. He thought back to all the moments he’d asked Hermione about Draco. About the one thing he never wanted to know the answer to. But he had to ask it anyway.

Just like Draco did.

“Look,” mumbled Harry, shaking his head, “It’s not what you think.”

“You can’t seriously be trying to comfort me, Potter?”

“No.” No. God no.

No.

“Then what?”

Harry exhaled, unsure of how to continue. “She’s been in a bad way. I don’t think she knew what she was really doing.”

Why Harry was explaining this, he didn’t know.

Draco nodded. “So she kissed you?”

Harry hesitated. “I- uh-”

“Don’t bother, Potter,” he growled, “Like you give a shit.”

And then, all within a moment, Draco spun around with a muffled roar and slammed his fist so hard into the wall that Harry swore he heard the bones crunch.

There was a short silence between them as Draco panted in pain.

Eventually, Harry spoke again. “You can’t fucking react to anything without hitting something, can you?”

Draco shot him a look of disdain. “So she chose you,” he snarled, breathing heavily through the pain, “I’m surprised I had to come looking for you to tell me. I would have thought finding me and declaring it is the first thing you’d want to do.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Don’t act dumb, Malfoy. Don’t play that one with me.”

“Don’t play what, Potter?” he spat with frustration.

“You know she didn’t choose me,” growled Harry.

Not in that way at least.

Draco stared at him.

He couldn’t really be clueless. Harry knew him better than that. And Draco knew Hermione better than that.

“She kissed you,” Draco murmured, flatly.

“And you shagged Pansy. Several times. But apparently you didn’t choose her.”

Not that that was the same. At all. God knows why he picked that terrible analogy.

Draco raised an eyebrow and lowered his head all at once. “Did you...? If you fucking-”

“No, you idiot,” sighed Harry, pre-empting the question. “It was just a kiss. Just that. And- and I think it was something she needed to do.”

“What?”

“She needed to do it,” repeated Harry. Not wanting to go into any detail. Not wanting to help him get there any quicker.

She needed to do it so she could know that she really wanted you.

Why Harry was still standing there was beyond him.

Of course- it wasn’t entirely beyond him. Because there was no doubt somewhere in the back of Harry’s mind that he was doing all of this for her. For Hermione. For what he knows- but can never accept- she wants. This was him acting on the realisation that this was the only way he and Ron could get her back.

Draco was quiet. Harry hadn’t known him to say so little in all their exchanges.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he breathed, forcing the words out through his teeth, “I’m not going to pretend the kiss didn’t mean anything to either of us. For whatever separate reasons. But- I suppose- what matters to you is that it didn’t mean what- what you hope it didn’t mean.”

Why couldn’t he just say the words?

Draco was frowning. Harry knew full well he understood. So why was he fucking frowning?

“You want me to say it?” growled Harry. “You’re really going to be that pathetic?”

Draco stared.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “For her,” he clarified. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know how long it will last, and I hope it doesn’t, but for now - at least - she wants you.”

Draco blinked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“What?” hissed Harry.

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out your mouth, Potter.”

“Like I said, it’s for her.”

“Still.”

“Don’t push me, Malfoy.”

There was another moments silence between them. A thousand thoughts seemed to flash across Draco’s face all at once. His arm twitched and his back straightened. His breathing had audibly increased.

Harry diverted his gaze away from him and looked at the floor.

“Where is she, then?” asked Draco, finally.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nostrils. “She’s in her dormitory.”

Draco nodded. Harry could almost have interpreted it as a thank you. But he chose not to.

They stood there for a few awkward seconds.

“You know... I’m going to find her now,” said Draco. It didn’t sound like a provocation. It was almost closer to a polite notification.

“I realise that,” replied Harry, and he realised all that came with it.

Draco nodded again. “Well, then, I guess that’s all,” he said, “You’ve answered my question.” Slowly, he turned to leave. He seemed poised to break into a run.

“Just one more thing, Malfoy.”

Draco paused, turning his head back just in time to see Harry’s fist smash into his jaw with enough force for him to stagger backwards several steps.

“What the-”

“That’s for thinking I’d ever hurt her,” rasped Harry, breathing heavily, “And for putting me in the hospital wing because of it.” He flexed his hand, ignoring the deep scowl on Draco’s face but noting his lack of retaliation. “I hope that’s the last time I hit you, Malfoy,” he added.

Draco didn’t respond.

After a few seconds, Harry turned and walked away.

As he rounded the corner he caught the sound of Draco’s rapid footsteps start in the other direction. The same direction that would lead him to Hermione.

This was it now. It was happening.

And he would never be okay with it.

But he would live with it. For her sake.

*

Draco knew he was moving. Fast. But he couldn’t feel his feet as they touched the ground. He barely noticed the stretches of corridor he passed and winding corners he turned. He didn’t register the thud of his shoes against the stone steps beneath him.

He could only think of her. She was burned into his vision.

Hermione.

She was all he could see in the minutes it took him to reach her dormitory.

Draco had been hit with the strongest wave of clarity. Of all the realisations he had experienced these past few months - this ONE felt final. It felt real. Because if Potter said it- if Potter said it, then it had to be true. It had to be unmistakable.

She needed him.

And perhaps he had known that all along. Somehow. But now he really, really knew it. And he wouldn’t let her escape it or dismiss it or deny it because he needed her too. And that was the only way either of them could survive now. There was no moving on from any of it.

They were stuck in this. Together. And the thought set his body ablaze.

The familiar portrait swung open for him. The familiar stairs laid before him. And at the top of them there was everything he had needed for months now. It was a need that consumed him like never before.

The blood was rushing loudly in his ears and his heart was screaming in his chest. But Draco didn’t take a moment to pause. He didn’t need to force composure or cloak on the pretence. That was all over now. He swore he was done and finished with all of that.

He took the steps two at a time, almost tripping over his feet in all his effort not to spend one more moment away from her than he had to. He could feel her presence mere seconds away. It lit the air on fire around him.

The steps seemed to go on forever. The narrow walls seemed to wind on endlessly...

And then finally he was at the door. He almost thought it had opened itself. He didn’t register turning the handle and pushing it so violently that it swung back and cracked against the wall.

Hermione spun round from the window, hand to her chest in surprise.

Hermione.

Her cheeks were stained red. That fucking beautiful red. Her breath halted.

Her eyes were wonderfully wide as they took him in. “D-draco-”

“Shut up, Granger,” he breathed, on some level aware he was shaking his head and moving in her direction.

And then he was three steps away, two steps away, one step...

His lips found hers and suddenly it was as if none of horrors of the past months had ever happened. It was as if he had awoken one day, blinked and found himself here. Kissing her. Kissing Hermione.

Hermione.

Her body tensed tremendously. Stunned.

Draco held her to him so tightly that he must have been hurting her at least a little bit. His hand was entangled in her hair, his lips pressing against hers in a desperate attempt to communicate a fraction of the need he felt.

And then something brilliant happened. Slowly, Hermione parted her lips. Slowly, her body un-tensed and her mouth began to move against his. Draco’s heart beat impossibly faster at her response, his skin burning when her arms entwined around his neck.

Draco stumbled forward, backing her into the wall. His hands had found her waist and then her hips and then back up to her waist. Her body shook with his rough movements and desperate touches. His lips shifted to the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw, and then her head fell back as his hot breath reached the curve of her neck.

The room was filled with the sounds escaping from her mouth, her shallow breathing, Draco’s responsive growls. He needed to kiss all of her, everything, everywhere - if only all at once were possible. When his teeth scraped against her collarbone she whimpered softly, and Draco couldn’t understand why he was ever apart from her. Ever. At any stage of his life.

His fingers fumbled down towards the buttons on her shirt and pulled at them impatiently, vaguely aware of the rasping sound of his own heavy breathing as he did so. Her head fell back once again and he buried himself into her neck, teeth scraping against the racing pulse that he swore he could feel throbbing against his tongue.

And then Draco became distantly aware of hands pushing somewhere into his chest. Pushing against him. Pushing him away.

“Wha- what-?” was all he could manage, raising his head to stare desperately at her beautiful eyes.

“I need you- to stop,” she panted, groaning momentarily when he pressed his aching erection into her hip.

“Fuck, Granger,” he growled, “You can’t be serious.”

“I- I am, Draco,” she responded, pushing her hands into him again. “Please.”

“No,” he snapped, ignoring the pressure of her hands against his chest and grabbing her wrists. “No,” he growled again, pinning her arms to the side of her body. His mouth found her jaw line and his tongue licked in one long motion across her skin.

She moaned beautifully.

But then words found her again. “Draco,” she murmured.

He ignored her, his fingers tight around her wrists as the wet of his tongue touched her just below her ear.

“Draco,” she insisted, breathlessly.

He let out an involuntary sound of frustration and brought his head up to look at her. “What?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“I need to talk to you- we need to talk-”

“No. No talking. I’m not talking anymore.”

“Draco. I need to say this. For my- for my head.”

“For your head?”

She nodded.

Draco forced a deep breath through his lungs. He could barely control himself as his arousal shook through him violently.

“Can’t we talk later?”

“I need to do it now.”

Draco sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “Seriously?” he murmured.

“Seriously,” she whispered back.

Reluctantly, his fingers loosened around her wrists.

“Thank you,” she breathed, slowly shifting out from under Draco and walking around to the fireplace. He watched bitterly as she did up the few open buttons on her shirt.

When she was done, her hands gripped the back of the armchair as if to steady herself. He could hear her breath shaking.

Draco almost couldn’t bare the sudden distance she had put between them.

“Talk to me, Hermione,” he prompted impatiently.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I just don’t want to- to do anything until I’ve had a chance to say some things. I mean- we can’t go from the other night to- to this, just like that, you know?”

Draco fought the urge to remind her that words never did them any favours. “Okay,” he forced out instead.

She took a deep breath. “So... about the other night,” she began, fingernails white against the armchair, “When you- said those things. And I left.”

Draco nodded.

“Well,” she continued, “I... It turns out I- I think-”

“That you do love me after all.”

He caught the sound of her breath hitch.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. There was a momentary pause. And then she swallowed. “Okay,” she said, taking another deep breath, “Perhaps something like that. I mean-”

“Something like that?”

“Jesus, Draco. Will you just give me a moment to finish?” That familiar irritation flashed into her voice. Draco wanted to smirk at her, but the concentration and determination in her eyes told him he shouldn’t.

He motioned for her to continue.

“You’ve got to understand,” Hermione began again, releasing her grip on the armchair and instead placing her palms flat upon it, “I’m struggling to put words to what this is. I’m- I’m struggling to call it something.”

Draco could definitely relate to that.

“But I know that it is something,” she continued, “And that I can’t ignore it. It’s just... hard.” She looked down. “It’s hard not to associate this with pain.”

Draco’s heart lurched at the sound of her voice when she said that word. Because she had felt so much of that pain. More than anyone would ever deserve. And it was all his fault. He wanted so desperately to tell her that. But she’d made it clear that this was her turn.

“But I’ve realised something throughout all of this. The pain of being with you is a different kind of pain to the pain of being without you. D-does that make sense? I don’t know...”

Fuck, Granger. It makes perfect sense.

“...And if I’m having to make the right decision then maybe I need to stop thinking about it so much. Maybe I need to just feel what I’m feeling and listen to that. Because the right decision is whatever makes the bad pain stop. The right decision is the one that only brings the other pain. The good pain that hopefully one day won’t be pain at all.” She looked back up at him then. “And yes, I’m calling you a pain. Because you are. For a lot of reasons. But you’re different. You hurt me only because you make me feel everything five times harder. And I mean everything. But that isn’t a bad thing. It isn’t a terrible thing. But it’s not always a good thing, either. It’s- it’s intoxicating.”

Draco’s eyes flickered to her mouth as she briefly bit her lip.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Draco,” she breathed, “Not with you and not with this. I don’t want to fight with anyone at all. Ever again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes not moving from hers for a second.

“Hermione-” he began, his voice low.

“Just one more thing,” she interjected, “You- you and Harry.”

Draco felt himself tense at the name. He hoped she didn’t notice.

“I don’t want you two to fight anymore,” she continued, a pleading tone to her voice, “If we are going to try and do this, I can’t do it without him and Ron. They are my best friends. They- they make me who I am. And you have to deal with that. I can’t bare to see you fighting. I know you’re never going to be friends and I’m not asking for that. But you could at least be civil to each other.” She shook her head. “You’ve done some terrible things to him, Draco. And I’m not even asking you to apologise, because I know Harry gives back as good as he gets. But it has to stop now. Really. Or we stop.”

Draco knew that there was no way around that condition. And he knew how seriously Hermione meant it.

After a moment, he nodded his head.

“And not just with Harry,” added Hermione, evidently taking advantage of his lack of objection, “I don’t want you to fight with anyone. No matter what’s happened. You’re hanging by a thread in this place and everyone knows it. Anymore trouble and they’ll send you away, Draco.” She swallowed. “And I can’t handle that.” Her voice broke on the last few words.

Without thinking, Draco found himself moving towards her. He was mere inches from her face before he even knew where he was. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to her cheek. He grazed her skin lightly with his fingers. “I know.” It was all he could say in response to it all.

He knew. He knew it all. Everything she was saying. He had felt it radiate from her before she even spoke the words.

In that moment he had no idea how they could possibly make it work between them, he only knew that they had to. That they must. He had finally got her in his grasp and he never, ever wanted to let her go.

“I just hope I’m really the person you think I am,” she murmured then. Her head turned slightly into his touch as she looked down between them.

Draco frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, Granger,” he breathed, “You’re everything I think you are. Every part of you. I can’t- I can’t even explain it.”

He felt a genuine pang of frustration at the inadequacy of his words. Of any words. He kissed her skin lightly.

“Let me go back to showing you,” he whispered, his lips planting a soft trail towards her mouth. “Because I need to touch you, Hermione. I fucking need to-”

“Wait- Draco,” she breathed, her voice hesitant and quieter than before, “I just want to ask you something. Just- just one more thing.”

He nodded impatiently.

She inhaled, her breath quivering. “Do you really mean it?” she whispered, “Do you really mean it when you say love?”

Draco felt himself frown at her words. “Hermione-”

“I’m just asking you because...” She trailed off. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she began again, “But that word- it doesn’t fit us. It doesn’t fit you . I never saw you as someone that would feel like that. About anyone.”

“You’re not just anyone.”

“Please don’t get upset with me for saying it.”

“I’m not. I understand why you are.” He took a deep breath, stroking her cheek once more. “I don’t know how I feel it, Granger,” he murmured, “I just know that I do feel it. I mean I think I feel even more than whatever it’s supposed to mean. Like you said. Love maybe doesn’t fit. But- but it’s the best word I’ve got.”

She stared at him, her eyes bright and glistening. And for a long moment that’s all she did. Somewhere in the back of his head Draco acknowledged that if all he got to do tonight was look back into her eyes, it would be enough for him. Those eyes would be enough for him.

Hermione must have known he really loved her. She must have known it before she asked him. And she probably knew it before he even told her in the first place.

“O-okay,” she stammered, eventually, the corners of her mouth turning up ever so slightly. “Okay, Draco.” And then she seemed to give into her smile, and it lit up her face in a way he hadn’t seen in- Merlin- too long. It made his heart lurch inside his ribs.

Draco felt himself smile back, barely aware of the ache in his jaw as he did so.

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he murmured, voice low, “because I really need to, Granger. No interruptions.”

She nodded.

And with that, Draco’s lips met hers once again.

He felt his body crash right back to the feeling of a few minutes ago. The feeling of sheer hunger. His hand found the back of her head again, and his tongue moved fervently into her mouth.

He walked Hermione back into the wall behind them and she fell against the stone with a soft thud. He always had to have her like this. The feeling of just holding her there was beyond anything he had ever felt with another girl. And that wall held so many memories for them both. So many painful and excruciatingly passionate moments.

So much of him wanted to be gentle with her, to try and show her that things between them didn’t always have to be so rough, so violent. But it was near impossible to disguise his urgent need for her. He was so hungry to take her all in at once. Completely all at once.

It had been too long.

In a forced effort to slow his movements, Draco placed his hands on her hips. Steadily, he began to glide his palms up the shape of her body. His hands moved up past the curve of her waist and over the side of her breasts, until his movements motioned her to lift her arms up above her head. He held her wrists firmly against the stone wall, the position allowing him to study every tiny movement her body made in response.

Hermione could clearly hear his struggled breathing, feel his stunted movements as he forced himself not to let his overwhelming need consume him.

“Draco...” she murmured, “I don’t- I don’t want you to hold back.”

“But I’m trying- I’m just trying not to...” He was just trying not to hurt her. If he let himself go, that’s all he would do.

Because didn’t she understand it had been too long.

“I don’t- uh- I need you not to hold back, Draco... I need it too.”

And Draco realised that he wasn’t the only one struggling. He wasn’t the only one consumed by it.

He growled in response to her words.

“You sure about that, Granger?” he rasped.

She nodded. “Yes...”

He wet his lips as his brought his mouth close to her ear. “One thing,” he whispered, feeling the heat of his own breath bounce off her skin. She murmured an incoherent sound in response. “Never keep yourself away from me ever again.” He couldn’t help the sound of his words, the sharpness of every syllable. Because he truly meant it. Such a powerful reminder of how exhilarating her proximity was reminded him of how little he had been able to touch her like this. He traced a path with his tongue down to her neck. She whimpered. “I want you to promise that you won’t ever walk away from me like you did the other night,” he breathed, his lips lightly touching her skin with every word. “You have to be mine now, Granger.” The possession in his words was more apparent that he intended. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to help it. Not when she was against him like this.

“Are- are you trying to say I belong to you now?” she asked, her voice breathless as she arched her back against the wall. Her breasts pressed flat against his chest and Draco struggled to refrain from taking her right there.

“Yes,” he growled in response, kissing the corner of her mouth, “Not that you’ll ever agree to it.” He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged on it lightly.

She let out another sound. “You’re right,” she murmured, mouth seeking out his when it moved away, “I absolutely don’t agree to it.”

“Not yet, anyway,” he added, dropping his hands from her arms and reaching underneath her to lift her slightly off the ground and up against him. She murmured softly with the sudden movement, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He felt his hardened cock press firmly in between her legs. Draco moaned with the contact. “But you will.”

It felt unbelievable when her legs wrapped around his waist, the pressure pressing him even firmer into her. Her head fell back against the stone, eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

“Fuck, Granger,” he rasped, “You have no idea what you do to me. You have no idea how painful it’s been waiting to do this to you again.”

He watched as that delightful pink flush across her cheeks. Draco loved that he could still make her do that. He loved that after everything, he could still say things that would make her blush. It reminded him of just how new to this she was. Just how untouched she was. How he had been the first one she ever felt inside her.

Draco groaned at the thought.

She murmured a sound in response, her voice jolting as he suddenly pushed away from the wall and walked them over to floor space in the middle of the furniture. He didn’t want to go upstairs. He couldn’t bare to break the contact. Not for a second.

He lowered her onto the large rug in front of the fire, Hermione’s beautiful hair sprawling across the floor as she laid back. Draco let the weight of his body fall against her.

He was so uncomfortably restricted in his clothes. She was so excruciatingly covered in hers.

Hermione kissed the bruise on his jaw. “Is this- is this new?” she asked in between the kisses and sounds of heavy breathing. Her back arched up against him again.

He didn’t respond. Now wasn’t the time. She didn’t need to know about the latest fight between him and Potter. That name- Potter- brought an unwelcome wave of remembrance back to Draco.

And the kiss that boy had shared earlier with the girl writhing underneath him.

Draco pressed himself harder into Hermione. “Undo the buttons on your shirt,” he demanded, his teeth nipping at the curve of her neck.

“Do it yourself,” she retorted, her hand sliding up his neck and grabbing a fistful of his hair as his teeth caught her skin again.

Ordinarily Draco would love the backchat. He would relish the challenge. But suddenly he wanted her - no - needed her to submit to his commands. He needed her to submit to him completely. It was the only way she could compensate for what he had suddenly remembered she’d done with Potter. The same boy that wanted to do to her exactly what Draco was doing to her right now.

“No, Granger,” he replied, his voice lower than before, “Undo them yourself. I want to watch you.”

He caught her eyebrows lowering slightly. Hermione’s instinctive defiance was shooting across her face. But Draco was having none of it. He wanted her to do exactly as he said. He absolutely needed it on a level he couldn’t explain.

After a brief moment’s hesitation, Draco added, “And I want you to imagine that Potter is watching all of this.”

Hermione’s frown deepened, confusion blurring her arousal. “What?” she asked, her hands steadying where they had just begun to undo the first button on the stretched fabric of her shirt.

“I want you to imagine he’s watching me with you, Hermione,” growled Draco, his cock twitching at the idea of showing Potter just exactly what he could do to his precious best friend. “Imagine he can hear the sounds you make when I lick you... When I slide into you...”

The colour splashed across her face again. Draco knew it wasn’t just anger that caused the rush of blood to her skin. “That’s ridiculous, Draco-”

“No, Granger,” he hissed, his tone harder than he meant it to sound. His fingers raked against the fabric of her tights, “What’s ridiculous is you kissing him earlier today.”

Her breath halted.

Draco dug his fingers into the top of her thigh and, with one heavy tug, ripped a gaping hole in her tights. His fingers found the smoothness of her bare skin underneath and his eyes closed momentarily.

“I- uh... Draco...”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he breathed. Draco was fully aware that, despite her shock, Hermione was still responding to his touch, the goosebumps on her skin grazing his fingers. “You don’t have to say anything,” he continued, fingers finding the waistband of her tights underneath her skirt and pulling down. Her hips lifted without request and he dragged the tights impatiently off her legs.

“I want to explain, Draco,” she gasped as his hands caressed her now completely exposed legs. They were perfect. Every curve of every muscle, every fading bruise. He desperately wanted to push them apart and bury his mouth in between them.

“No fucking explanations, Granger,” he rasped, shoving his leg in between her thighs to push them apart, “Just imagine he’s here. And you don’t need to say anything.”

“I can’t, Draco-”

“Yes you can.”

Despite everything, she was still completely his in this moment. Still writhing against him. Still murmuring softly at his touches. It was driving him wild.

“I- I don’t want this to be about him, Draco,” she insisted, whimpering as his hands bunched her skirt roughly around her waist. He traced his fingers lightly across the white cotton of her knickers.

Hermione shivered violently.

“Trust me,” replied Draco, struggling now to form his words. “This is definitely about you. This is so fucking completely about you.”

She bit her lip in response.

“Now undo your shirt, Granger,” he demanded, resting his weight on one elbow as his fingers on the other hand continued to trace patterns against her knickers.

He watched her hands quiver as they moved slowly down the buttons on her shirt. Her eyelids were fluttering at his touch. She moaned softly whenever he pressed his fingertips just that little bit harder into her.

Draco became increasingly impatient. He stopped stroking her so that he could help pull the shirt off her shoulders, unclasping her bra all in the same hurried, rough movement before dragging the straps down her arms. He tossed it aside.

“Lie down for me again,” he rasped, pulling his own shirt from his body and watching as her eyes drank him in. “Put your arms above your head.”

Hermione lay down, stretching her arms out on the ground above her. Draco growled under his breath. Her breasts were completely exposed to him as she obeyed his every word. And that obedience alone was enough to almost send him over the edge. His cock was straining painfully now in his clothes, but this wasn’t about him yet. His brain hadn’t got to the part. He still had things he needed to do before he could even begin to tend to himself.

“Good girl, Granger,” he murmured, lowering his head and pressing his mouth into hers. He felt her suck onto his bottom lip, her arms finding their way back around his neck. “No,” he breathed, interrupting the kiss. “Keep your arms there.” There was slight hesitation this time, but through her shallow breathing Hermione relented quickly. Their mouths met again, his tongue urgently sliding against hers.

Draco’s fingers trailed down in between her breasts, down towards her belly button. He circled it a couple of times before trailing further down to the hem of her knickers.

He had to feel her.

“Are you ready for me to touch you properly now, Granger?” he asked, breaking the kiss.

She nodded weakly, her chest rising and falling dangerously fast.

“Tell me your ready for me to touch you.”

“I’m- I’m ready for you to touch me, Draco.”

Fuck, those words sounded beautiful.

His fingers hovered teasingly at the top of her knickers.

If only you could see this, Potter.

“Draco...” she murmured, her voice quietly pleading. Impossibly his cock hardened further.

“Just- just tell me more, Hermione. Tell me how much you want me to touch you.” He could barely force the words from his mouth. They sounded dark and sharp.

“Draco...” He could hear the frustration in her voice. “I want- so much- I need you to touch me again...“

And with that Draco slid his fingers underneath the cotton of her knickers.

“Granger,” he groaned, his forehead falling against hers. The heat radiating off her was overwhelming. He began to move his fingers in slow, rhythmic circles. “So beautiful,” he murmured again. The words were nowhere near enough for what he wanted to say.

A continuation of small sounds began escaping her mouth. Slowly, Draco slid a finger through her wetness.

She moaned loudly.

“Do you...” Draco trailed off, struggling fiercely to form a coherent sentence. “Do you want my fingers inside you, Hermione?” he breathed. “Tell me.”

She nodded, eyes squeezed shut as his thumb circled her faster now.

“Say it out loud,” demanded Draco.

Say it out loud so that I know. And so that if he was here he’d know too.

“Oh- god-” she gasped, “I want your fingers- I want your fingers inside me, Draco...”

Fuck - he wanted to taste the words themselves. He buried his mouth into hers, sucking her tongue urgently between his lips. As he did so, he pushed one finger slowly into her.

She was so wet. So gloriously wet for him.

Hermione moaned into his mouth.

Draco broke the kiss. “Look at me, Hermione.”

She opened her eyes.

“I need you to look at me as you feel me...” He ground the words out through his teeth, pushing a second finger into her.

Another wonderfully strangled sound escaped her mouth, but her gaze didn’t waver from his. And the look in her dark eyes as his fingers moved slowly in, and then out of her, was a look he wanted to drink in, consume, never let go of.

Her breathing was getting faster now. He felt her muscles tighten around his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine, Granger,” he growled, lips inches from her face as his fingers continued to move in and out of her. “Tell me you’re mine now. And mean it.”

“I’m- oh god- I’m yours, Draco,” she replied, breathlessly, her eyes squeezing shut again, unable to focus on his any longer. “I’m yours...”

Fuck. Those words. Those words were everything to him. He saw fucking sparks when she said those words.

She was growing close to a climax. And he could barely hold it together himself. His breathing was growing increasingly erratic, his mouth watering uncontrollably at the sight of her flushed and glistening skin. He heard the tiny murmurs from her lips, felt her body quiver fiercely under his as she reached the edge of her orgasm.

“Come for me, Hermione.”

He felt her muscles contract against his fingers as her orgasm shook violently through her. Her back arched as the waves washed over her body, her mouth opened and a stream of incoherent sounds flowed through her lips.

Draco watched her hungrily, his mouth drenched in moisture, his cock painfully swollen.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She would never look so glorious as she did when she was coming.

He needed her. Now.

He slid his fingers out of her and frantically pulled on his zipper. It took him too many seconds to clumsily release his cock from the oppressive fabric of his trousers.

“I need to be inside you now, Hermione.”

The desperate sound that escaped her mouth in response was all the permission Draco needed. He tugged urgently at her knickers, dragging them down only enough so that she could lift one leg out of them, before he positioned himself in between her legs.

He felt the tip of his cock touch her wetness, and it took everything he had not to push into her with rough abandon. He had to keep it controlled. He couldn’t hurt her, despite everything clouding his mind and judgement and rationality in that moment.

He lowered his head and kissed her again, taking her lips in his and slowly pushing his tongue into hers. After a few seconds, Draco broke the kiss and raised his head.

He looked straight into her eyes. “I love you, Hermione,” he whispered.

He heard the tiny gasp of air from her mouth. Her eyes seemed to glisten in the flickering light of the fire. “I love you too,” she breathed.

And those words - they would have been enough to last him a lifetime. They were almost enough to compensate for everything - everything Draco had endured in his life up until this point.

They were her words, and they loved him.

With only the briefest moment of hesitation, Draco slid himself fully and completely inside her. His loud groan filled the room as the corners of his vision darkened.

She felt- indescribable. So hot, so wet, so tight against him. He forgot how to breathe for the longest of moments.

And then he felt her hips urging him to move. And it compelled him in a way he had absolutely no control over. He drew himself out completely, before pushing into her once again. That feeling coupled with the unimaginably delicious sounds pouring from her mouth made him lose his final grip on composure. She was surrounding him and he could barely form coherent thoughts. There were no thoughts. No thoughts but the feeling of her. Soft and tight and hot and wet. And her body shifting against the ground underneath them as he drove into her again and again.

“Hermione- so fucking beautiful-”

His hand gripped her hip as he buried himself deeper, impossibly deeper into her, listening to all the little sounds caught in her throat as his skin smacked into hers with every thrust. Her back arched, her hips meeting his with every movement. He felt her fingernails rake down his back and a low growl escaped his mouth in response, loudly reverberating against the walls around them. His mouth was somewhere against her neck, his teeth found her pulse and before he could stop himself they were buried into her skin, biting down on it so hard he heard her whimper loudly in pain. But it didn’t stop him. It couldn’t stop him. And the hand that grabbed a fistful of his hair was only pushing him harder into her neck. He could almost taste the blood at it rushed to the surface of her skin.

His movements were erratic now, pounding himself deeper and then harder into her again and again and over again. He felt himself nearing the edge far too soon. He hated himself for it and he hated her for doing it to him. For being so indescribably fucking perfect around his cock that he couldn’t function or concentrate or keep himself from plummeting hard and fast over that edge.

“H-Hermione...” The warning sounded strangled in his throat.

But her sounds were louder now, too. Her body was shaking violently and her nails were digging into his back spectacularly hard. She was just as close to that edge. Her body shook so violently that Draco had to grip her even harder as his pace quickened further, desperately willing her to make those beautiful sounds that much louder.

And then he felt it, the phenomenal feeling around his cock as her orgasm crashed through her, her back arching higher than before and the sound from her mouth so impossibly fucking divine that before he knew it, he came crashing down himself. The waves of spectacular release swept through him like it was the first time he had ever felt such a feeling. He couldn’t breathe with it, sliding into her those last few times as they both shuddered under the final moments of their climax.

And then suddenly, for the first time since Draco could remember, everything in his head went quiet.

Everything became completely still.

He could barely remember how it felt, feeling almost calm like this. His mind silent. It was a kind of release that he didn’t except and barely understood.

But it felt amazing.

A few moments passed, and Draco’s forehead fell onto hers. The room was still filled with his heavy breathing and soft murmurs from Hermione’s mouth.

She was stroking the back of his head softly, her eyes looking up into his.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, her lips swollen from the marks of his teeth.

Draco nodded, swallowing.

And then he felt compelled to say it once again. Even though both of them knew it wasn’t enough- even though both of them knew it didn’t come close to it...

“I love you, Hermione,” he breathed.

A small smile spread across her lips. She raised her chin and planted a soft kiss on his mouth.

“I love you too, Draco.”

*