Once the door closed behind them, Draco let go of Hermione. All the anger that boiled within him finally escaped. He punched the back of his bedroom door as hard as he could, his fist smashing the wood. The splinters were pushed deep into his skin and he hissed at the mess of his hand. Breathing hard, he tried to restrain his temper, but just when he felt it was ready to boil over again, Hermione placed a gentle hand on his mangled one.
He looked at her hand. It was soft and delicate; not like the hard skin that stretched over his knuckles all bloodied and bent. Slowly, she began to pick the bits of wood from under his skin with the tips of her fingernails. Her nails weren’t long, they were short and practical. It was something he liked about her. She was womanly and beautiful without being too girl-y or high maintenance. He didn’t think that he’d be able to handle a high maintenance woman.
They didn’t say a word to each other as she carefully picked the last of the splinters from his skin. Having finished her task, she smoothed away the blood that stained his skin. He was about to thank her when she suddenly beat him to it.
“Thankyou . . .” she said quietly. This surprised Draco. Shouldn’t he be thanking her? She had put up with his bad mood, fixed his hand and helped him. What had he done for her?
“For sticking up for me like that . . . no one’s done that for me in a long time . . .” Silence followed her statement. It still baffled him. He was her husband. He was meant to protect her . . . stand up for her. Did she actually think he would stand by and laugh? Sure, the past him might have done that – but there was something about this girl that held him. Before, she was just an annoying girl, a know it all who was inferior to him. She was nothing and deserved none of his respect.
But now . . . she was different. He had only been married to her for a few days, but it was in the few days that he had come to appreciate the small things about her. He couldn’t treat her badly any more. She was a Malfoy. She was his wife, whether he liked it or not, it was his duty to make sure that no harm came to her. It was written in the laws of their wedding vows.
‘Do you take her as your own blood and promise to protect her from any harm that may come to her?’
He had sworn to do so. The sacred laws of marriage were not to be trifled with. She was his own blood. By law and relation, she was a pure blood. She deserved all his respect. Now, he was slightly thankful for the opportunity to be married to her. Without the marriage, he never would have discovered how much he liked her when she slept. He never would have discovered how soft her hair was or the way it curled around his finger when he played with it. He never would have understood her compassion. Her desire to please and passion for power. Looking at these last few traits, he discovered that they actually had something in common.
“I don’t hate you, you know?” she said softly, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“What?” he asked confusedly. Had he missed something? What was she talking about?
“Down there, in the hall. You said that I hated you – I don’t hate you . . .” she whispered quietly, never looking at him; but instead looking at his hands, fingers or the floor below. “Sure, sometimes I think I hate you when you’re being an ass . . .” He knew that she was trying to make him feel better – but so far all she had done was insult him. “But now I understand that it’s apart of who you are. Sometimes, I almost think I . . . I like you.”
Draco was sure she was lying, but the way her brow creased in confusion made him think otherwise. How could she like him? When? Why? What on earth could he have done to make her like him?
“Sometimes, you do something unconsciously and I see it and it makes me smile. You look at me or comfort me . . . and I feel safe. I like these moments. It’s only been since that . . . that night; I’m kinda . . . happy – grateful to have you here. It’s silly really, just me being stupid, but-“ She didn’t have time to finish her rambling when Draco’s lips suddenly enveloped hers.
It was a shock for the both of them. Draco had been overwhelmed with what she was saying and Hermione wasn’t expecting it. He pulled away quickly and looked at her for a moment.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly. The situation sang of Déjà vu. This was the same as when he had kissed her on their wedding night to enrage Travis. But now, there was no one about to tease. It was just the two of them.
“I’m kissing my wife – if that’s okay with you?” he said quietly. It was exactly the same as what he had said that night on the dance floor. But why? Why was he kissing her? ‘Why shouldn’t he?’ asked a small voice in her head. She didn’t know what to do. While she was too busy arguing with her insides, Draco dropped his head again and repeated the kiss. Her mind went blank as his lips pressed graciously against her own. The feeling sent a tingling sensation down her spine. Unbeknownst to her, her body had taken over and her lips were reacting to his touch. She kissed him back.
A feeling of uncontrollable lust burst inside of Draco. What had happened to his self-control? His hands slipped around her waist and slid up her back, feeling every curve, every movement of her body. She felt amazing. It seemed that she didn’t mind the attention at her hands slipped up around his neck and into his hair. He had a feeling that she’d been dying to do this for some time. He knew from his previous escapades with women that they all wanted to run their fingers through his hair. It was just a thing they had.
She moaned a little as his hand ran up along her side, past her breast. This only encouraged Draco as he deepened the kiss, pushing his body flush against hers. Only meters from his bed, he began to move her towards it. She didn’t seem to mind at all as she happily fell backwards onto the bed, dragging him down with her.
The kissing ceased and he watched her carefully from where she lye beneath him. What was he doing? Why? Why couldn’t he stop himself? His shirt was already gone from the need to rub potion on his chest and back down in the kitchens, but her clothes remained. She began to hastily remove her top, but he stilled her hands for a moment.
“I don’t want to if you’re not-“ he stuttered but she glared at him. He was right. Was she ready to do this? Again? Last time sure did hurt a lot . . . was she ready to do it again? But the burning inside her fuelled her thoughts. It stung in the depths of her gut, but as Draco put his lips to hers, all she tasted was his sweetness. What had come over her? Why couldn’t she control herself any more? The feeling was overpowering. Consuming her every thought of reason. Draco quickly removed all her clothes, stealing away the final barrier between them. With his pants discarded, there was nothing in their way.
Hermione was shocked, but pleased that it didn’t hurt as much this time. The movement was feverish and urgently wanting, but still the pain did not return. In fact, she began to feel the pleasurable side of it. It was fast paced. Together they panted hard. It was hot, sweaty and controlling. Hermione loved every minute of it. There was no love between them – but there was passion. And that was all she needed.
Narcissa couldn’t help but smile as she wandered the halls back to her bedroom. She had done all she needed to. She had lit the fuse and now she just had to wait for the explosion. She was so happy with herself that she didn’t notice her husband come up behind her until he let his arm fall around her waist. She jumped a little, but smiled once again when she realised it was him.
“What are you smiling at my dear?” he asked casually. “Have you been meddling again?”
“No . . . not at all. Just enjoying the day for what it is!”
“And what is that?”
“The beginning of a new adventure!” she stated happily, nestling her head into his shoulder as they stepped into their room.
It was dark and raining outside, but Dumbledore was still awake disregarding the lateness of hour. He was sitting alone in his office when suddenly his head perked up. He had always possessed a kind of instinct in which he knew everything around the school and he trusted it enormously. At the moment, that instinct was telling him that someone was approaching the school from the front gate. Just one person.
He went to his window, which overlooked the grounds and his inkling was confirmed. There he saw a solitary silhouette approaching the front of the school.
Moment’s later Albus was in the entrance hall awaiting the strange visitor. A knock, once, twice, three times on the great doors announced their arrival. With his wand drawn, Dumbledore opened the great doors without a moment’s hesitation. He was shocked by who stood before him.
“Please sir, I ask your leniency! I wish to help . . .”
Author’s Note: Hmm, who do you think it is? I bet you’ll all never guess! He he! It’s a bit short, I know! Leave a review coz I love it when you do!
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