Blind Date
Written for Valentine's Day! :)
Title: Blind Date
Rating: Mature
Warnings: sexual content, language
Ship: Draco/Hermione
“Tell me, again, why you’re doing this, Draco?” The boys’ footsteps fell into the quick pace that Draco had set. “I don’t understand why… why would you need a blind date?”
Draco’s hands, stuffed into his pockets, were balled into fists as he tried to keep his face controlled. “Listen, Theo. It was my cousin’s friend of a friend, or whatever. Apparently, she and I would ‘get along perfectly well’.”
“I still don’t know why you need to get along perfectly well with anyone,” Theo said, the mocking tone in his voice was not unnoticed. “It’s not like you couldn’t have Parkinson or Greengrass - or any bird you want. Why go through with the blind date? You could just stand her up.”
“Right. And hear about it at family gatherings for the rest of my life?” Draco grunted a chuckle. It was half seven, he was early, just as he’d hoped. He gestured to Theo, letting him know they had reached the restaurant, but maintained a safe distance away. “Look in there and tell me what she looks like.”
“’Fraid she’s going to look like your Aunt Bellatrix, mate?” Theo laughed and jumped up the three stone steps in front of the little bistro in Diagon Alley. He leaned in and pressed his nose against the window. “What am I looking for?”
As Draco sat down on a bench across from Theo, he shrugged. “They said she’d have a rose or something, so I could tell who-”
“Merlin!” Theo bursted out, before falling into a heave of laughter. “Oh, Malfoy, you’re going to love what those idiots have done to you. She’s-”
Great. Fucking great. Draco kicked the ground and clenched his fists tighter. If they’d given him a dog, or a cow, he’d curse them himself. “Got a second head? Wearing an ‘I heart Harry Potter shirt?”
At this, Theo turned on Draco, his grin wider than the sea. Draco felt his stomach twist in knots. “Oh, I don’t think she’d need that shirt, Malfoy.”
He was not impressed by his supposed-best friend’s taunting. Not at all. Standing with mildly shaky legs, he walked to Theo and clapped him on the back. “Alright, mate. Show me the troll.”
“Look, Malfoy, she’s not hideous. Just…” Theo pointed to a brunette that sat glancing around nervously, fidgeting every few seconds. With a rose.
“Hermione bloody Granger?” Draco shouted, jumping away from the window. It was a sick joke, a fucking disgusting joke! There was no way that anyone would try to get them to see each other, let alone for a date. “What the fuck…”
That was all he needed to know; he was leaving. He turned quickly on his heel and strode in the opposite direction. Family functions be damned. Again, Theo was upon him, keeping in step with his erratic pace.
“You’re just going to leave her, then?” He asked with an odd edge to his voice. An edge that Draco did not like. “You haven’t spoken to her in four years, Malfoy. Four years after what you two had.”
“We didn’t have anything. It was a quick shag, that’s it,” Draco spat. Four years ago was a long time and a lot had changed. He had moved on from that…mess…and she had gone back to the Weasel. It wasn’t his fault that the relationship was over again.
“Quick shags don’t last two months,” Theo reminded him with a proclaiming finger in the air. “You were falling for her.”
“Was not!” Draco stopped his steps and glared at Theo. Git. He had no idea what he was talking about. “She was just a bridge between Greengrass and…”
“No one else, Draco! You haven’t been with anyone else!” Theo said, grabbing and shaking Draco’s shoulders. Draco could have punched him then, but refrained.
“I have so!”
“Name someone, then.” Theo’s smug smile was milliseconds from being wiped from his face. Draco uncurled his hands and pulled them from his pockets.
The light pink tinge that crossed Draco’s alabaster skin deepened. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he mumbled, turning slightly away from Theo after shrugging his hands off his shoulders.
“Since when?” Theo pressed, stumbling to get in front of Draco. “You’ve never had a problem telling us when you got your leg over with Pansy, or Millicent, or Parvati-”
Draco raised his hand. “That’s enough, Nott. Do you keep tabs on who I bed, then? Is it an obsession for you?”
“You’re changing the point.”
“There is no bloody point. Let’s go.” He grabbed the arm of Theo’s robes and made a step to apparate away, but Theo pulled away.
“You’re going.” Theo started walking toward the restaurant again, leaving Draco annoyed behind him. The idiot just kept on walking. And while Draco knew he could still leave, a part of him knew that he wanted to see her… badly.
Through gritted teeth, Draco hissed, “Fine.” Draco brushed passed him, his cloak billowing at his heels.
“You’ll thank me later!” called Theo with mocking confidence as a dubious Draco headed into the restaurant, towards Hermione, who sat with a nervous smile, gazing at nothing in particular.
Her expression changed in an instant; Draco noted the curves of her lips straighten and the light in her eyes dull. If it were under any other circumstance, he would have allowed her a pitiful glance. However, he was resolved to make her as miserable as he felt about this whole ordeal.
The discomfort in her shift of weight and the way she had casually tried to stare over his shoulder, caused a slight smirk to reside on his lips. “Weasleby late, Granger?” he asked coldly, coming to a pause in front of her table.
“And what damn business is it to you, Malfoy? None,” she shot back in defense, narrowing her brow as Draco dwelled on the affect he had on the opposite sex. “I see you’ve not changed one bit,” she continued with a feisty snap. “Hurt anyone today?” Hermione finished with a flash of anger.
“Do the house elves count,” he taunted with an impassive expression. “No? I thought not. They’re hardly people.”
He loved the passion in her eyes. It reminded him of that night, years ago, when they had rid their worries in a wild night of fucking for the first time. Yeah, he wanted her then. And, far be it from him to deny that she had suddenly sparked that familiar yearning.
Draco watched with vindictive pleasure as Hermione crossed her arms defiantly. He knew that he had caused her heartache back then, but it was justified; back then he wanted a shag. Back then. The fucking catalyst to his carefree life. Hermione. Fucking. Granger. He briefly wondered what right she had to judge his actions from that long ago, but steeled his face from the scowl that was forming.
“Why don’t you leave, Malfoy? I’m meeting someone.” She glanced over his shoulder again as the door to the restaurant opened, but her posture deflated.
The mild amusement was growing by the second as her antsy behavior increased. “Meeting someone… like a date?” he asked her shrewdly, pulling out the chair and claiming the seat across from her. “My, Granger, you look so nervous. I guess it’s not the Weasel that you’re dining with tonight.”
“As I said: None of your bloody business,” she reiterated while Draco glanced through the bright window and spotted Theo watching their interaction like a deranged stalker. He was clearly amused. Draco, however, was not and gestured his friend, casually, to sod off.
“Well,” he smirked as he rested his elbows on the table, cradling his chin in his hands. “I suppose you won’t mind if I keep you company until your date arrives, then?”
The indignant sneer that crossed her face almost made him lose his façade. Lips, her lips were glistening with gloss and her eyes were outlined, causing them to sparkle brighter. His gaze flickered between the two and he silently devoured her in his mind.
The bell on the door chimed again and Hermione jumped. Draco chuckled. “Have you ever met this bloke before?”
Of course, he knew she didn’t think she had. And he loved seeing the deep crimson flush across her cheeks. Embarrassment. She wore that well, though she tried to hide it with her hands. “No,” she answered in a tiny whisper. “My friend said she had a cousin who knew someone who was...”
“Desperate?” he finished for her, casually leaning back in his chair.
“Excuse me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that it? Men who want to meet me are desperate? Well, I’ll have you know, Malfoy, that-”
She was drawing him in. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her mouth as it flew into a frenzy. Completely captivated. Always so feverous. His lips felt dry and she was the quenching water.
“It’s not like you would know anything about dating anyway!” She had stood up, her hands placed on her hips. Draco was brought crashing down. Her words were starting to sting. “All you care about is getting your leg over. And then you harass them until they run away screaming!”
He pressed his lips together and stood slowly from his chair. “I think that’s my cue,” he muttered with disappointment stabbing at his chest. He hadn’t expected her to get this worked up; it hurt, more than his ego. “Have a good night, Hermione.”
Self preservation told him not to glance back at her as he walked from the restaurant. His hands found his pockets again as he trudged along the pavement back to his flat, chin raised.
So, maybe he harassed a few girls who found their way into his bed. It kept them from getting clingy. After Pansy, he realized that nothing bothered him more than a girl who refused to leave his side. Pathetic. And, sure, after all was said and done, he had insulted Granger and put her in her place. The last thing he needed was Potter and company coming to torment him over the mudblood. It was in his best interest to make her hate him.
Theo had been right; no women since Hermione, years ago. There had been the occasional intrigue, but Draco shied away from bringing them back to his flat. He felt hopeless. His body betrayed his mind; he wanted Granger.
A trickling of rain began falling from the dark sky when he turned the corner of the street that his home was on. Fuck. There she was, standing with an umbrella - practical wench. Her foot was tapping as her free hand rapped on the door.
He grimaced. What the hell could she want now? And then she spun around, as if startled. Her eyes bore into his as he walked closer, refusing to lose the staring contest.
“Your date is going to think you stood him up, Granger,” he told her emotionlessly, coming to a halt several inches away from her.
Hermione’s knuckles were white as she gripped her umbrella, her mouth a straight line. “I got an owl saying that he couldn’t make it,” she said with nonchalance that didn’t fool Draco. He knew she was lying. “So I came to find you, to apologize.”
A gruff chuckle was forced from his throat. Right, apology accepted. “You spoke the truth. There’s no sense trying to take back what you said.”
She shook her head, a droplet of water catching the end and immediately curling it. “I wasn’t going to take it back,” she said cautiously; he wondered if she thought him incapable of handling her wrath. “I shouldn’t have been so rude.”
He acknowledged her with a stiff nod, thinking the explanation was unnecessary. Draco had goaded her into her angry rant. And he could have stopped her if he hadn’t been so focused on her lips. Like he was now.
“Yes, well, thank you for your apology. I think I’ll go in now,” he gestured around to the rain that was beginning to fall heavier. “No need to catch a cold because you feel guilty.”
Very little space was left between them when he maneuvered around her to get into his flat. He inhaled; a tingling peach scent overwhelmed his senses. Damn her. He fumbled with his wand, muttering the spells to lower the wards, still feeling her presence behind him.
“Why are you pushing me away?” She asked quietly, much too quietly. He turned to see her face glancing curiously up at him. “I know we’re hardly friends, but we’re not enemies. Not anymore.”
A steady gasp parted his lips as he got lost in her eyes. “Look. We’re hardly anything, okay? You were a couple of good shags to me. And I was - whatever - to you. There’s no need to bother each other if we can help it. I shouldn’t have been in that restaurant tonight. So let’s just go our separate ways.”
He didn’t bother watching her agree. She had to; he hadn’t given her a choice. Twisting the knob in his hand, he forced the door open and entered, closing it in her disappointed face.
Stomach clenching, he fell back against the door and let out a long, calming breath. He could hear her heels clicking as she walked away and then the ‘pop’ of disapparation. Never again. He would never purposefully see her again.
Purposefully, of course, had nothing to do with her intentions. Without his wards back up, she was able to apparate directly into his flat. And there she stood, her eyes on Draco and her chest heaving deep breaths. He watched her warily. She was only a pace away.
“You are such a prat, Malfoy,” she spat while rolling her eyes. She closed the space between them and her lips were on his. Draco’s mind went blank. As he made to deepen the kiss out of instinct, she pulled away. Silent.
His head tilted down, their eyes connecting once again. Breathing. He heard breathing; heavy panting. Was it him? Draco closed his partially opened mouth and focused on breathing through his nose. Her eyes were clouded, but he could sense her anxiety. It was mirrored in him. The steadfast, surety he was used to had drained.
Seconds had passed. Only mere seconds. A thick tension had filled the room and now they were silent and only bloody seconds had passed. The more he stared at her, the harder it was becoming to tell her to leave. To do the right thing. She looked away from him, finally.
His fingers slid under her chin, lifting her eyes to him once again. And he was done in. The right thing flew out the window and he was left with only feral desire. Feather light touches to her cheek and her jaw line; his fingers were creating a trail. With every inch he gained to the nape of her neck, the closer his lips drew to hers. His eyes flickered between her lips and eyes; it was not a question, it was a warning.
More seconds passed. And then his lips crashed onto hers, without any gentle forbearance. He pressed her backwards until she collided with the wall and let his hand fall from her neck as she wrapped her arms around his. She whimpered as he gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the dark fabric of her dress. Pressing her more firmly into the wall, he parted her legs with his thigh and settled into her, relentlessly attacking her tongue with his. Every moan from the back of her throat spurred him on. When he pulled away, he listened as her breathing sped, but he didn’t stop. His lips attached to her neck; nibbling and sucking alternately. Her taste hadn’t changed. Not at all.
“Draco,” she simpered, threading her fingers through his hair. He held back a wince as a couple of hairs were pulled at the roots. He smirked into her neck as she pushed her body into him. “Draco, please.”
No. He had waited too long; he wasn’t going to rush it. His breath danced along her wet skin as he pulled away. “Tell me what you want, love,” he demanded into her ear as one of his hands began wondering about her midsection, slyly bunching the dress to her hip.
The desperation in her answer shocked him. Her groan was a growl into his shoulder and her fingers pulled harder on his hair. Still, he wouldn’t give her what she wanted; not yet and not until she admitted it.
His tongue teased the pulse point under her earlobe and created a wet trail up to the shell of her ear. “Couldn’t hear you, Granger,” he whispered roughly. The dress was completely bunched in his hands, revealing her naked legs. “Tell me what you want.”
Her bare skin was smooth under his fingers as they nimbly teased her thighs. He felt Hermione shudder at the contact. “You, Draco, please,” she uttered breathlessly. “I want you.”
It almost broke him; to hear that she wanted him. He knew it might. Gripping the insides of her thighs, he hoisted her up and allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist. His mouth sought hers as he moved them to his room, only knocking into an occasional wall.
-----------------
His eyes fought against the light that was streaming through his curtains. It wasn’t until he felt Hermione shift in his arms that the previous night flickered through his mind. A smile, lazy and proud, found its way on his face. He squeezed her tighter, letting her know he was still there.
“Morning,” he heard her greet him softly. The grin on her face could be felt in her voice. “Your owl came this morning with the post.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Work could wait. He still had - he glanced at his clock - two hours before he had to be into the office. “I’m not concerned,” he told her honestly, caressing her stomach with his hands.
“There was a letter from Theodore Nott,” she pressed, her curious and smug tone confusing him. “He said that he’ll let you buy him a drink this weekend.”
Draco was stiff, unmoving. “Right,” he mumbled into her hair.
She turned around, loosening his hold in the process. He didn’t like the way she was surveying him. It made him uncomfortable. Her breathing tickled his neck. “And also, that he sent ‘Granger’ an owl, letting her know that her ‘blind date’ wasn’t showing.”
Draco’s lips pressed together. “That was nice of him.”
“He also said-”
“Why were you reading my post, again?” He asked her quickly, trying to avoid the conclusion she had drawn.
The smirk pressed against his collarbone sent tingles down his back. She shrugged.
Theo Nott was a moron. Draco grumbled. “And how did he know that you would be in my bed this morning, Granger?”
“Why don’t you read the letter yourself, Draco,” she offered to him as her hand reached to the bedside table and fumbled for the parchment. She tossed it at him and he instantly began to read.
Draco:
I sent an owl to Granger, letting her know that her blind date wouldn’t be making their dinner arrangements. You can thank me this weekend by buying me a drink. Way to be a git, Draco.
Theo
Draco lowered the parchment and found Hermione’s big, brown eyes on him. “What?” he asked her defensively, dismissing the letter.
“You are such a tit,” she laughed. “Did you honestly thing that after ten minutes, I hadn’t figured out who Tonks’ cousin was?”
Ah. The Harry Potter fan club. Right. “I’m not going to apologize.”
Hermione’s lips pressed against his chin. “No, you’re not. But there are better things you can do to make it up to me,” she suggested in an evocative tone.
Draco smirked. He’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her, if she let him.