idea_of_sarcasm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2006-06-20 02:51 pm
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2006-06-20 02:51 pm
Entry tags:
Karma *Adult*
This is a fic I wrote for the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange. Although I'm not going to post it to communities like I do with other fics (seems whorish), I'm posting it in my journal just because I like to have a place where all my fic can be together.
This was a bitch to finish. It took me way too long.
Title: Karma
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Warnings: Sex, language
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. You think JK Rowling would let her characters do these things?
Author Notes/Beta Credits: Thanks togranger2malfoy for her help in fixing this up. All mistakes are mine. I meant to do a shorter and more vague angsty piece, but then the characters demanded dialogue and plot. Fic for daphne_minor,
Summary: What goes around, comes around.
Hermione slid through the doors leading out of Hogwarts, wanting to escape the madness that was going on inside. The celebration was in full swing, and it seemed most of wizarding Britain was inside drunk off euphoria and firewhiskey. She couldn’t blame them, but nor was she in the mood to join them. Harry had defeated Voldemort once and for all (they had defeated him, she reminded herself firmly) - and that final act had made the months of sacrifice worth it.
While one couldn’t help be thrilled at the victory, it didn’t erase how tired she was. It didn’t take away the months of emotional and physical hardship, living a life of constant fear. It couldn’t take away how much she had missed both school and her parents. And it certainly didn’t erase her memories of all those who had fallen in the name of the cause, from Dumbledore to Bill just a few months ago.
She hugged herself, trying to erase the bitter cold as she cursed leaving her wand inside. It wasn’t a mistake she would have made even yesterday, but today ‘constant vigilance’ didn’t seem quite as important. With the bitter spring air biting through her jeans she contemplated going back inside, but at that very moment she could see Seamus kissing Parvarti up against one of the stain glass windows and heard the strains of a ruckus rendition of the Hogwarts anthem. She knew she would never get any peace that way.
Ignoring the chill she took off towards the lake. It had been one of her favourite places while she had been at Hogwarts. Most students didn’t bother to make the trek, and she always had the place to herself. It had always calmed her to sit there and look out across the still water, broken only occasionally by a surfacing creature.
But this time when she reached the waters edge she realized someone had beat her there. She hadn’t expected anyone else would have grown tired of the party - everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. But there was a solitary figure standing in front of her, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the water.
It was then she realized who was in front of her, Draco Malfoy. And that realization was enough to make her want to turn and go. He had joined their cause along the way, apparently unable to stomach the life of a death eater. She had never fully trusted him, but he had proven himself time and again, and she was too intelligent to be petty.
But that didn’t mean that they got along.
Turning away from Voldemort didn’t make them the best of friends. Hell, it hadn’t even made Draco nice. Not that she could take any credit for pleasantness, but at least she didn’t insult his blood heritage at least twice a day - although if she was honest, calling his dead mother a whore was probably not an overture of friendship.
When she realized it was him standing at the edge of the lake, she turned to go. But when she fully focused on him, she hesitated. There was something in his demeanour that gave her pause, made her curious. His shoulders weren’t shaking, and from the side profile she could see of his face there were no tears running down his cheeks - but somehow she still got the impression he was crying.
But her hesitation cost her. He must have heard something because he spun around to face her. And although his face contorted into it’s trademark smirk, she caught a moment of vulnerability before he glared at her.
“Come to spy on me, mudblood?” he almost spat the words at her. He took a few menacing steps towards her, but stopped before he got too close.
She wanted to come back with some sarcastic retort as she usually did. Maybe cast aspersions on his intelligence, his loyalty, his facial expressions….but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate this time. Or at the very least, not as satisfying. “Yeah, right.” her reply was weak, even as she tried to scoff.
He took another step closer, and she wondered if the pain she saw in his eyes was real, or just a figment of her imagination. She had never really believed that he could be more than a cold-blooded monster, the pure-blooded prince who didn’t give a damn for anyone but himself. But she had seen that same expression on Harry’s face when Dumbledore died, on Mr.Weasley’s face the day of Bill’s funeral, and on Mr.Diggory’s the first instant he had realized Cedric wasn’t just unconscious. And it was hard to reconcile those emotions with the boy who stood in front of her.
He was standing close to her now, trying to intimidate her; she could almost feel his breath on her cheek, and his thigh brushed hers lightly. She wanted to say something, push him away, but she stood there silently, staring at nothing but the laces on her shoes. “Scared?” his voice was menacing, without a touch of softness. But she wasn’t, not in the slightest, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the fact his wand was nowhere to be seen.
Her next action went against everything she had ever believed about herself. She, who thought through all her actions from every conceivable angle, did the most mindless thing she could have ever imagined.
She kissed him.
It was a quick action, tilting her chin up and pressing her lips to his before he could react. And it was soft and gentle, but mostly because he wasn’t responding. She knew she had caught him off-guard; she had surprised herself as well. And she pulled away just as quickly, wiping her hand across her lips as if to wipe away the taste of him, and cursed beneath her breath.
But he stepped forward again, and holding nothing but her left hand to stop her from escaping, he kissed her. And there was nothing gentle about it this time. His lips were insistent upon hers, forcing her own open and then his tongue was there thrusting against hers and she let out a sound that was suspiciously like a groan….and then she lurched away. Not just because this was more than she had ever done before, more of a liberty than she had ever allowed Ron, but because it was him.
She wrenched her arm from his, and stared at him a moment before turning to flee into the trees, leaving him behind.
Hermione ran through the trees, not caring about the scratches from the branches that lined her path. She knew she was being juvenile, but she couldn’t deal with him - couldn’t stand up to him - after this. She liked to pretend she was above it all, but in some ways she was worse off than a first year. It wasn’t every day one got their first real kiss from their sworn enemy.
She stumbled up the steps to the castle, she was moving so quickly - and she put a hand on the cool stone to steady herself just as Ginny stepped out of the door.
“Hermione,” her voice was cheerful in a way Hermione hadn’t heard it in a long time, “I was just coming to find you. Seamus is demanding a speech, and Harry decided you’d be the better public speaker.” She noted the way Hermione was slightly out of breath and hanging onto the railing of the steps. “Are you allright?”
“Yes,” Hermione nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. “Just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”
She saw Ginny’s eyes focus on something in the darkness behind her, her eyes narrowing and a scowl crossing her face. “That prat wasn’t bothering you, was he?”
Hermione turned her head to see Draco standing there, just beyond the edge of the trees. He made no motion to come closer when he saw the pair on the steps, just stood there with his hand shoved in his pockets. She didn’t know why he had followed her, except maybe to mock her. But all it would have taken was a word to Ginny about Hermione’s little lapse in judgement, and she would likely have been ostracized by her friends.
“No, he wasn’t bothering me,” she wrenched her gaze from Draco’s and turned back to Ginny, lacing her arm through that of the younger girl’s. “Let’s go and see if I can find some eloquent words to do Harry justice.”
*************************************************************
Hermione didn’t see him again for weeks.
She had never thought past the war the whole time they were searching for horcruxes, except for the basic stuff; showers, her parents, sleeping for an entire night in her own bed. But with Voldemort gone the world went on, and life became complicated once again.
She had opted to write her NEWTS with the rest of the seventh years who had stayed in school. It wasn’t conceit, but she truly knew more than any student there from her own tutelage. Even DADA would be a snap - she had produced a Patronus under more stressful circumstances, and she had learned even more spells than those required in the curriculum. So she spent that month until the sitting of the exams in the Hogwarts library, revising until she was so tired the pages blurred before her. Harry and Ron had decided to catch up on some of their classes next year, and sit the exams at the same time as Ginny - even if it rankled their pride a little. They were too busy enjoying the life of heroes.
The next time she saw Draco was when she walked into the classroom where her potions NEWT was being held. She stopped short, causing Dean to run into her. She apologized quickly and rushed into the room, taking a seat as far from Draco as she could.
It was like that through the rest of the exams, except she took care to arrive early so there would be no chance of sitting beside him. She had heard Pansy gossiping about why he was taking his NEWTS now rather than waiting a year like Harry and Ron - he needed to find a job out of school. It was hard to remember that he was no longer the little wizard prince he once was, the Malfoy estate having been seized.
Their last exam was the DADA practical, outside on the grounds of Hogwarts. When they were lead out to the site, she could see it was set up like the Triwizard tournament. The maze extended across the entire field, and she could see enough entrances in the front for each student to enter. She shuddered as she stared at the maze, unable to think about anything but that day when Harry and Cedric reappeared, barely aware of Draco standing in front of an entrance not far from hers.
“It’s all safe Miss Granger,” she heard Lupin’s voice behind her, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before moving on. He had come back to Hogwarts to teach full-time at McGonagall’s insistence. She tried to force herself to be calm as he raised his voice to the rest of the class to explain the procedure for the examination. Even in this supposedly safe time, old fears were hard to erase.
The exam itself was easy once she convinced herself that every object wasn’t a portkey designed by Voldemort. The obstacles they had for the students seemed ridiculously easy, but that was because she was used to real beings trying to kill her. But she had to admit, whatever they spell they used to make it seem like she was fighting Merlin himself was rather ingenious. The hardest thing in truth was the last obstacle - a boggart. It was a lower year spell she had done a thousand times, but it never became any easier. Not when her worst fears had become rather more morbid over the past few years.
But once she had vanquished it by picturing Hagrid in a dress, she found herself at the centre of the maze. Prof…..Headmistress McGonagall was standing in the middle, and she gave a bright smile when she saw Hermione. “Well done,” she told Hermione. With the old woman never being much for compliments, the words brought a smile to her face.
She was about to inquire as to when they would receive the results of their NEWTS when she saw Malfoy crashing out of the tunnel not far from her. His face was pale, and she found herself wondering what his boggart had been.
“Well done Mr.Malfoy,” and Hermione almost begrudged him the smile on the headmistress’ face. “You and Miss Granger are the first ones out. I know that will be bonus points with the grading committee.” When she saw Hermione’s mouth open, the headmistress replied before she could even ask, “The results will be sent in a month, same as always,” causing Hermione to close her mouth sheepishly.
“Where’s the exit?” was all Draco asked, obviously not warmed by the woman’s praise.
“Right behind me,” the headmistress replied, stepping aside to reveal another tunnel leading straight out of the maze. “Just follow this one, and take every right turn, and you’ll find yourself back at Hogwarts.”
Hermione wanted to wait with McGonagall until she knew Draco was well and far away from the maze, but knew there was no way to do that without having to explain it to the older woman. So she smiled hesitantly at the headmistress and followed him slowly into the tunnel leading out.
They walked along silently for a moment before Draco asked, “So, are we going to talk about it?”
“No,” she replied curtly, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
And then her back was pressed against the prickly thorns aligning the maze even as his body pressed into her and he dragged his lips across hers. His lips were almost bruising in their intensity, giving her no option but to respond.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she gasped as his teeth grazed against her neck, not even feeling the plants digging into her back. And his only response was to bite down a little harder, and she knew there would be a mark in the morning.
His hand snaked up to fondle her breast, and she almost gasped at the feeling. It was as if her body wasn’t her own domain anymore; he didn’t ask permission, and he didn’t stop. But even without experience, she knew that through the robes it wasn’t enough, wouldn’t be the same.
“I hate you,” she managed weakly, even before reflexively grinding her hips against his. And her protest sounded unconvincing even to her.
“No you don’t,” he replied, and she expected to see a smirk on his face, but his expression was oddly serious.
“I want to,” she told him honestly; but her hands were acting of their own accord, running over his shoulders and tangling in his hair.
He bit her ear, ever so gently, and she let out a low moan. “All I would have to do is slide my hand in your knickers, and I bet it would prove exactly how much you don’t hate me right now.” His voice was soft against her ear.
It was a testament to how aroused she was that she didn’t even blush at his comment, just reached to bring his mouth back to hers. But at that exact moment she could hear others who had finished the exam coming down the path, and she hurriedly pushed Draco away.
“Hermione,” Neville’s face was bright and excited as he walked up to them, Dean not far behind. “Figures you’d be one of the first ones done. Wasn’t that just bloody brilliant? I’ll say, it threw me a bit when I thought it was really Snape there at the end, but somehow I didn’t freeze.” He managed to completely ignore Draco’s presence.
She smiled back at him, hoping that her face didn’t betray what they had just been doing. She quickly moved her hair to cover her ear and neck in case there had been any marks of Draco’s left behind. For once she was grateful for her unruly hair. “At least we’re all done now.”
“Party in the common room to celebrate?” Dean asked, sliding between the group as he moved on up ahead. “My older brother sent me some firewhiskey, and I know Parvarti has some new music by the Twisted Sisters.”
“I’ll be there,” Hermione promised, thankful for once that she hadn’t been at Hogwarts to be the head girl, responsible for turning them all in.
“Granger, I think we should talk,” Draco told her quietly, grabbing her left hand quickly when she turned to go.
She was fully conscious of Neville standing right beside them, waiting to walk back with her. “Us?” she replied with a little laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “What on earth could we have to talk about?”
She forcefully pulled her hand away. She could see Neville gaping at them out of the corner of her eye. “What are you staring at?” Draco snapped, causing the boy to blush in embarrassment.
“Come on Neville,” Hermione told him firmly, as she turned to go. “We have a party to get to.”
Again, she left him standing there all alone, staring after her.
**************************************************************
The next time she saw him, he never even kissed her.
Just over a year since her NEWT scores had arrived, she had rented a flat in Hogsmeade above the tavern for the summer, working for Fred and George so that she could save some money for her second year at the wizarding university in Prague. Tuition cost an arm and leg, but they had the best healer program in the world. She only had another year to go until she could begin her practicum at St.Mungo’s. The twins had opened up a satellite shop as their business had exceeded their London location, and she was helping them get things started.
When she returned home from work one night she could hear Madame Rosemerta showing off the flat across from her to a prospective renter. Janet Harrisburg who had lived there before had decided to move in with her daughter, an offer the younger woman no doubt regretted making. She could hear Rosemerta extolling the virtues of the layout, and Hermione laughed a little under her breath as she inserted her key into the lock - only that woman could make ‘cramped’ seem like a good thing.
Before she could let herself in, the prospective renter stepped out in the hall with Rosemerta.
“Malfoy,” her response was one of surprise. She would have accused him of some deviousness, but he seemed as shocked to see her as she was.
“I take it you two know each other?” her landlord’s eyebrows raised, and sometimes it almost came as a surprise to Hermione that there was anyone in wizarding Britain that didn’t know everything about them. And when the older woman got a little gleam in her eyes, Hermione wanted to curse, because she was well versed in her matchmaking tendencies. “I’ll just leave you alone to get ‘re-acquainted’,” she gave a pointed glance at Hermione before sweeping away. Although not all of it was selfless, she wanted to give her prospective renter some incentive.
“I didn’t know….” he gestured half-heartedly to her presence in front of her flat. “I wouldn’t have come, if I did.”
“Do you want to come in?” the words popped out of their own accord, even as she pushed open the door.
He looked as surprised at she felt at her invitation, but he only nodded and followed her silently into her place, standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as she closed the door behind them. “Tea?” she asked, her throat suddenly dry.
“Sure,” he responded, even though she was sure he would have said the same thing so matter what she asked.
She cluttered around in the kitchen while he made himself comfortable on her couch. She wished they were both muggles, the making of the tea would have made for a welcome distraction while she tried to determine what to say to him. But with two motions of her wand the two cups were made instantaneously.
“What are you doing in Hogsmeade?” she asked, handing him his tea as she sat on the couch, but as far away from him as she could. It was odd, making small talk with him.
“I found another job,” he replied, not looking directly at her. “Flourish and Bott’s, they were looking for a new clerk.”
She forced herself to hide her surprise at his announcement. He had scored nearly as well on his NEWTS as she had, but somehow he was only clerking at the bookstore. But she only sipped at her tea, not wanting to seem cruel or condescending.
But he caught her expression anyway and gave a rueful little laugh, “Not exactly in line with the Malfoy legacy, I know. But not everyone wants to hire…..well, that’s no matter. I couldn’t find a job right out of school and then I did a short spell at the ministry in the ‘broom regulatory control’ office, but well, everyone spent more time staring and gossiping about me - and vandalizing my work space - than they did working, so I quit. And that brings me here.”
It had never occurred to her what his life would be like after the war - an ex-death eater with his mother dead and his father in prison. As much as she had disliked him, it seemed wrong for his whole life to be negatively effected when he had helped out their side so much. Not when he’d betrayed those he used to call friends to help them. Not when he’d turned his back on his own father that he’d tried to hard to impress.
But when he lifted his arm to sip at his tea, and his sleeve rode up, she could see the permanent reminder on his forearm of who he had been. And she supposed it was enough for people to dislike and fear him. Merlin knew it had been enough for her.
“Are you working in Hogsmeade as well?” the ridiculously polite question seemed out of place coming from him, but she nodded. “For the summer, saving up some money, then I’m back to healer training in Prague.”
He didn’t say anything, but she could tell by the look on his face as he turned away that her announcement bothered him. Not so much that she was a mudblood and accomplishing all these things, but that he wasn’t. But it was maybe it was a testament to how much he’d matured that he didn’t rip into her out of jealousy.
Draco finished his tea and set the empty cup down on the coffee table. He let his hands rest on his knees, then pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. “I should be going,” he told her hesitantly.
And she grabbed his hand, surprising them both for the second time that evening. “Stay.”
**********************************************************************************
When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was to find herself leaning against Draco, still fast asleep on her couch. She pulled away gently, not wanting to wake him, absentmindedly rubbing the kink in her neck. She couldn’t even remember falling asleep, and judging by the sun rising through her window she had to be at work soon.
She didn’t know what she had expected when she invited him to stay. It had been an impulse, nothing more. They had nothing between them but an encounter at the lake and a couple kisses. She hadn’t even seen him in over a year. But when he stood up to leave, she hadn’t wanted him to go.
It should have been awkward at the very least. And maybe at the very beginning it was. They had no history between them except one of hate and malice. But they had began to talk - really talk - more than the requisite chit chat one made with strangers. More than she had ever talked with Ron and Harry, her two closest friends.
She learned about him from more than his words. It was in his body actions, his mannerisms. He couldn’t seem to speak freely when she was looking directly at him; when she had ended up with her head resting against his chest by the end of the evening, unable to see his face, that was when he found it easiest to talk.
It was impossible to try and believe that she hated him anymore. Talking to him for once had accomplished what lust couldn’t even do - it made her see Draco as something more.
Somehow she thought she was the only one on earth who had ever heard his confessions.
She didn’t think he had ever admitted to Pansy the overwhelming need to prove himself to his father. Somehow he and Blaise probably never bonded over Severus Snape, the man who gave everything up to keep Draco alive. And his minions Crabbe and Goyle probably never had an inkling that Draco had actually loved his mother, in spite of it all.
“Why did you join Voldemort?” She had asked the question the night before. She’d always assumed she’d known the answer, but somehow she wasn’t so sure anymore.
He hadn’t answered, just tangled his fingers in her hair lightly. And she had waited, not saying anything until he finally replied, “I honestly don’t know.”
Now in the sunlight streaming in through the window he looked less nefarious than he liked to think he was. By no means an innocent, but no villain. She was tempted to smooth the hair falling in his face, but she resisted and pulled back, gently lifting his arm off her and slipping from the couch.
She showered quickly and efficiently, not having much time before work, and when she exited the bathroom he was still sleeping on the couch. Caught up in looking at him, she stubbed her toe on a chair and had to physically hold her hand to her mouth to keep from cursing out loud. She hobbled as best she could into the bedroom, and slipped into a blouse for work while pinning her hair back so it would have time to dry.
Leaving a note and a key on the table for him, she paused only to give Draco a brief glance before letting herself out of the apartment.
*********************************************************************
It was a busy day at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Apparently summer brought out an unexpected need for both love potions and trick wands. Hermione smiled at Flitwick as she packaged up the Ton-Tongue Toffees he was buying as a joke for his fourth year class. She could picture the horrified looks when the children’s tongues swelled and turned purple.
She was helping the customers in the front with their assistant Verity while Fred and George were working in the back. Of course they all knew that was a euphemism for ‘napping’. They were creative and dedicated when they needed to be, but other than that tended to defer to the hired help.
Hermione heard the bell above the door chime as another customer entered the store. And her hands stilled on the counter as she registered the sight of Draco. He looked a little out of place in the joke shop, and kept glancing around warily as if expecting something to attack him.
“Hermione,” he finally caught sight of her, and walked up to the counter. “I thought you might like your key back.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, grabbing the key quickly from him and shooting a glance at the back room where Fred and George were holed up.
She wanted to get him out of there before they came back. Fred and George despised the Malfoys with an intensity that would have made Ron proud. But Draco wasn’t leaving. He seemed to be indecisive, then finally muttered quietly, “Would you like to grab a butterbeer after work?”
The look on his face was nothing she had ever seen in regards to him before. Draco Malfoy didn’t do ‘vulnerable’, but he seemed to be doing a pretty good impression of it. But before she could open her mouth to answer, the twins came out of the back room fighting with some charmed swords. But they stilled, and their playful expressions hardened, when they saw Draco standing at the counter.
“This prat bothering you, Hermione?” It was George who asked the question while he and Fred moved to flank her protectively.
“No,” she answered quickly, “Draco was just leaving. He thought one of his friends had wandered in here.”
“Friends?” Fred scoffed at the word. “The death eater has friends? I doubt it. Probably stopped by to goad you into a fight.”
“He was just leaving,” Hermione repeated, wanting to keep the peace.
And she saw a shuttered expression cross Draco’s face; the hope that had been in his eyes when he asked her out was extinguished. She wanted to explain, wanted to defend him to the twins, but they were both her bosses and her friends - and they would rather die than accept a Malfoy. She had burned him before, hiding from her friends, but she knew that he had believed after last night that things would be different. That they would be different. And against all indications of his character, he had taken the first step.
She hated making him feel like he wasn’t worth anything in the light of day, she had felt like that too often in her lifetime. But she didn’t have a choice. At least that’s what she told herself when she saw the cold expression settle onto Malfoy’s face.
“Like I would want to talk to the mudblood,” and his animosity made it sound like he meant the insult.
He didn’t even look back as he stalked angrily out the door.
*********************************************************
She could feel his lips on the back of her neck as she hurriedly jammed the key into the lock of her apartment door. His tongue languidly caressed the back of her ear as she fumbled with the lock, distracted by the feeling of her insides turning to mush.
They had run into each other doing Christmas shopping of all things. She was picking up a necklace for her mother, he was grabbing a last minute gift for his boss. It was been two years since they had seen each other last that day at the joke shop. But it meant nothing since he had kissed her hungrily right in the store, bending her backwards over the jewellery counter much to the annoyance of the shop’s proprietor.
She had apologized to the man with her eyes as they nearly ran from the store, her hand clasped on Draco’s forearm as if she didn’t want to let him go. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head telling her that this was a horrible idea as she apparated them back to her flat. This wasn’t her; she didn’t have sex on a whim. Losing her virginity to Donald, a classmate of hers, had been well-planned out after a solid six months of dating. And there had been nobody since.
It didn’t even matter that she hadn’t seen him in such a long time; as his teeth bit down lightly on her earlobe the details ceased to matter. She finally managed to get the door open, and almost tripped over her own feet dragging him in, barely having the presence of mind to slam the door shut behind her as she spun to face him.
When he bent his head down to her it was nothing like she had thought it would be. She was expecting the violence of his previous embraces, the heavy force of his lips and body against hers. But his lips were almost gentle when they touched hers, and her lips parted only of their own accord. This wouldn’t be something she could blame him for in the morning.
He pulled away after a minute, and she took a deep, but shaky, breath to steady herself. “My bedroom’s this way,” her words were soft, even as she took his hand and pulled him along behind her.
Draco didn’t ask permission as he drew her dress over her head, but then again he didn’t need it. She’d made it rather clear what her intentions were. And as she hastily unbuttoned his pants and slipped her hand inside, there would be no mistaking what she wanted.
“Slow down,” he murmured the words even as he shucked his pants and boxers and tossed them aside.
She knew what he meant, had heard his laboured breathing even as she caressed him, but she didn’t want to slow down. She didn’t want to think, because then she would see the merits in stopping, and that was the last thing that she wanted at the moment. But she hesitated anyway, removing her hand from his growing erection and letting his trail up his chest, unbuttoning and pushing aside his shirt as she went.
“I’m going to be the best you’ve ever had,” she didn’t know if his words were a threat or a promise, but when he pulled down the straps of her bra and caressed her breasts with his tongue, she didn’t care. “The best you’ll ever have.”
She could feel herself being pushed back against the bed, and as she let herself fall back onto it he came overtop of her. He cupped her breast in his hand before sliding it down - and she didn’t know until he stroked it that the bellybutton could be an erogenous zone - eventually to the band of her knickers which he slid out of the way.
“You want this,” the words were more a statement than a question as he danced his fingers around the core of her. Teasing her but never really touching her. And she didn’t reply except to moan in frustration and try and arch herself into his hand.
But he didn’t give in, just mercilessly teased her as he demanded, “Tell me that you want this.”
“I want this Draco,” she threw the words at him. Words that were truthful, but she hated the way he forced them from her. “I want you.”
The last statement seemed to please him, and he gave her what she wanted, lightly fingering her clit before delving his fingers into her warmth. She gasped as the pleasure shot through her, and his fingers roughly slid in and out.
“You’re so fucking wet,” She could hear and feel his voice rumbling against her as he kissed her chest, talking more to himself than he was to her. He let his finger play with her clit again, making her bite her lip to keep from crying out. “Can’t deny that you want me now. Can’t pretend to hate me.”
Hermione thoughts were jumbled, but she wasn’t sure if she should say something because his words sounded nothing like endearments. His tone was menacing, but Merlin help her, that turned her on more than tender words ever could have. She grasped his long hair in her hands, pulling him up so she could kiss him, and there was nothing gentle about it now with his lips almost bruising hers.
And then he was pulling away, muttering a protection charm underneath his breath before sliding into her roughly. It was quick, giving her no time to adjust to his width, but surprisingly painless. But she didn’t even have time to think about anything before he pulled out and slammed back into her again, cutting off all intelligent thought. He continued to move, changing the angle and timing with each stroke, not giving her a change to adjust to his rhythm.
When she came it wasn’t like anything she had felt before. To her an orgasm as a tidy thing, a subtle release of pressure with an accompanying moan. But tonight she was almost sobbing her release, biting his shoulder to keep from screaming, not wanting to wake her neighbours. “Draco,” she gasped even as he came, knowing somehow it was his name that he wanted to hear, and held him as he shuddered.
*****************************************************************
When Hermione awoke in the morning it was to an empty bed. It would have been tempting to chalk it all up to a brilliant dream save for the smell of sex in the air and the tenderness between her legs. She listened for a moment in case he was in the shower, but he seemed to have taken off entirely. Not that she was critical, he likely had to get to work and she had overslept - not having set her alarm because it was an off-day for her.
She frowned a little as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table. She was due to meet Harry for breakfast in a half hour; he wanted to say goodbye before he went on a training mission to France.
She took longer in the shower then she should have, because that act in itself reminded her of the last night with Draco. As she ran the soap over her body all she could think of was his hands sliding over her, and the soreness between her legs could only be attributed to him. And when she stood naked in front of the mirror admiring his handiwork, she could see the marks he had left on her body, from the bruises where he had grasped her arms to the unmistakable hickey on her collarbone.
And, as such, she was late meeting Harry.
“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized as she jogged up to him, almost slipping on a patch of ice. They had been supposed to meet at the Three Broomsticks for a quick meal, the pub belonging to her former landlord.
“No problem, I just got here myself,” he assured her. But he motioned to the bustling place in front of them. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to get a table anyway.”
“Grab a coffee at Madame Puddifoot’s?” she suggested, motioning towards the other establishment down the street.
There were many people strolling about the village of Hogsmeade, both customers of the many stores and people going to work. Hermione laughed a little as people stared at them as they walked by. Nearly four years since the defeat of Voldemort and people were still fascinated by Harry. It was part of the reason he spent time living in Hogsmeade versus the much larger London. She had no doubt some nosey reporter would have them as a couple by evening.
But as they passed the bookstore she saw a familiar figure walking up to the door. Draco.
She could feel Harry stiffen at the sight of the blond man. They had never reconciled their differences, and had only worked together out of necessity. Harry blamed Draco for Dumbledore’s death - and with no other suitable target he blamed him for everyone else’s as well. Although Hermione believed that the deaths were only an excuse for their animosity, those two wouldn’t have gotten along even if Draco had been faithful to their cause the whole time.
She looked at one of her best friends standing beside her, and the man who she had just slept with. And she knew it was time to take a chance, she couldn’t walk past Draco and pretend that nothing had ever occurred between them.
“I have to someone to say hello to,” she told Harry, squeezing his arm before walking quickly over to where Draco was about to enter Flourish and Bott’s. She could see the betrayal evident in his face when he realized who she was approaching, and she prayed he would understand.
“Draco,” she said his name rather shyly as she approached him. “I was hoping you’d be free for dinner tonight.”
She could see him stare past her to where Harry was standing, glaring at the pair of them, and she could tell he realized what it cost her to make this overture. After today there wouldn’t be a single soul in her circle of friends who didn’t know there was something between them. And she could only hope they would all get past it in time.
When he looked back at her she fully thought he would reply in the affirmative. At the very least because the night before had been amazing, but more because she believed there was something more between them. So it was a shock to her when he turned around without saying a word and pulled open the door to the shop.
She stood there in shock when he hesitated and turned around to face her, but his expression was anything but kind. “You were just leaving,” he threw the words out, rather snidely, before letting himself into the shop. She couldn’t make sense of his reply for a moment, before remembering the excuse she had used that day he had made the overture to her at the joke shop. It took a moment for her to understand, but one could never accuse Hermione Granger of being stupid.
It had never even occurred to her that she had used him, even if she had. She had never really believed there was anything wrong in her actions before, and had fully expected that he would understand. Or at the very least, forgive and forget.
She turned back to Harry, but he was no longer standing there waiting for her. She had lost one of her best friends, and with nothing to show for it. She was left standing there alone in the snow as the holiday crowds milled around her. And as she started to walk away, she let the interactions between her and Draco play out in her mind, time and time again. On some level she knew she should have seen the it coming, but not for the reasons she would have once assumed.
It was tempting to blame Draco entirely, and it would have been the easiest thing to do. However, as she passed a store window she caught her reflection - and she could see her facial expression. It mirrored that which had crossed his face that day in the joke shop - and to a lesser extent during their previous encounters. And the thought came to her that she hadn’t even contemplated before.
She had nobody to blame but herself.
[The end]
STORY REQUEST
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: war or post-war & angst (be it a lot or a little)
What rating would you prefer? R, NC17
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): fluff, Veela!Draco or secretly pureblooded Hermione
This was a bitch to finish. It took me way too long.
Title: Karma
Author:
idea_of_sarcasmRating: Adult
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Warnings: Sex, language
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. You think JK Rowling would let her characters do these things?
Author Notes/Beta Credits: Thanks to
granger2malfoy for her help in fixing this up. All mistakes are mine. I meant to do a shorter and more vague angsty piece, but then the characters demanded dialogue and plot. Fic for daphne_minor, Summary: What goes around, comes around.
Hermione slid through the doors leading out of Hogwarts, wanting to escape the madness that was going on inside. The celebration was in full swing, and it seemed most of wizarding Britain was inside drunk off euphoria and firewhiskey. She couldn’t blame them, but nor was she in the mood to join them. Harry had defeated Voldemort once and for all (they had defeated him, she reminded herself firmly) - and that final act had made the months of sacrifice worth it.
While one couldn’t help be thrilled at the victory, it didn’t erase how tired she was. It didn’t take away the months of emotional and physical hardship, living a life of constant fear. It couldn’t take away how much she had missed both school and her parents. And it certainly didn’t erase her memories of all those who had fallen in the name of the cause, from Dumbledore to Bill just a few months ago.
She hugged herself, trying to erase the bitter cold as she cursed leaving her wand inside. It wasn’t a mistake she would have made even yesterday, but today ‘constant vigilance’ didn’t seem quite as important. With the bitter spring air biting through her jeans she contemplated going back inside, but at that very moment she could see Seamus kissing Parvarti up against one of the stain glass windows and heard the strains of a ruckus rendition of the Hogwarts anthem. She knew she would never get any peace that way.
Ignoring the chill she took off towards the lake. It had been one of her favourite places while she had been at Hogwarts. Most students didn’t bother to make the trek, and she always had the place to herself. It had always calmed her to sit there and look out across the still water, broken only occasionally by a surfacing creature.
But this time when she reached the waters edge she realized someone had beat her there. She hadn’t expected anyone else would have grown tired of the party - everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. But there was a solitary figure standing in front of her, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the water.
It was then she realized who was in front of her, Draco Malfoy. And that realization was enough to make her want to turn and go. He had joined their cause along the way, apparently unable to stomach the life of a death eater. She had never fully trusted him, but he had proven himself time and again, and she was too intelligent to be petty.
But that didn’t mean that they got along.
Turning away from Voldemort didn’t make them the best of friends. Hell, it hadn’t even made Draco nice. Not that she could take any credit for pleasantness, but at least she didn’t insult his blood heritage at least twice a day - although if she was honest, calling his dead mother a whore was probably not an overture of friendship.
When she realized it was him standing at the edge of the lake, she turned to go. But when she fully focused on him, she hesitated. There was something in his demeanour that gave her pause, made her curious. His shoulders weren’t shaking, and from the side profile she could see of his face there were no tears running down his cheeks - but somehow she still got the impression he was crying.
But her hesitation cost her. He must have heard something because he spun around to face her. And although his face contorted into it’s trademark smirk, she caught a moment of vulnerability before he glared at her.
“Come to spy on me, mudblood?” he almost spat the words at her. He took a few menacing steps towards her, but stopped before he got too close.
She wanted to come back with some sarcastic retort as she usually did. Maybe cast aspersions on his intelligence, his loyalty, his facial expressions….but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate this time. Or at the very least, not as satisfying. “Yeah, right.” her reply was weak, even as she tried to scoff.
He took another step closer, and she wondered if the pain she saw in his eyes was real, or just a figment of her imagination. She had never really believed that he could be more than a cold-blooded monster, the pure-blooded prince who didn’t give a damn for anyone but himself. But she had seen that same expression on Harry’s face when Dumbledore died, on Mr.Weasley’s face the day of Bill’s funeral, and on Mr.Diggory’s the first instant he had realized Cedric wasn’t just unconscious. And it was hard to reconcile those emotions with the boy who stood in front of her.
He was standing close to her now, trying to intimidate her; she could almost feel his breath on her cheek, and his thigh brushed hers lightly. She wanted to say something, push him away, but she stood there silently, staring at nothing but the laces on her shoes. “Scared?” his voice was menacing, without a touch of softness. But she wasn’t, not in the slightest, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the fact his wand was nowhere to be seen.
Her next action went against everything she had ever believed about herself. She, who thought through all her actions from every conceivable angle, did the most mindless thing she could have ever imagined.
She kissed him.
It was a quick action, tilting her chin up and pressing her lips to his before he could react. And it was soft and gentle, but mostly because he wasn’t responding. She knew she had caught him off-guard; she had surprised herself as well. And she pulled away just as quickly, wiping her hand across her lips as if to wipe away the taste of him, and cursed beneath her breath.
But he stepped forward again, and holding nothing but her left hand to stop her from escaping, he kissed her. And there was nothing gentle about it this time. His lips were insistent upon hers, forcing her own open and then his tongue was there thrusting against hers and she let out a sound that was suspiciously like a groan….and then she lurched away. Not just because this was more than she had ever done before, more of a liberty than she had ever allowed Ron, but because it was him.
She wrenched her arm from his, and stared at him a moment before turning to flee into the trees, leaving him behind.
Hermione ran through the trees, not caring about the scratches from the branches that lined her path. She knew she was being juvenile, but she couldn’t deal with him - couldn’t stand up to him - after this. She liked to pretend she was above it all, but in some ways she was worse off than a first year. It wasn’t every day one got their first real kiss from their sworn enemy.
She stumbled up the steps to the castle, she was moving so quickly - and she put a hand on the cool stone to steady herself just as Ginny stepped out of the door.
“Hermione,” her voice was cheerful in a way Hermione hadn’t heard it in a long time, “I was just coming to find you. Seamus is demanding a speech, and Harry decided you’d be the better public speaker.” She noted the way Hermione was slightly out of breath and hanging onto the railing of the steps. “Are you allright?”
“Yes,” Hermione nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. “Just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”
She saw Ginny’s eyes focus on something in the darkness behind her, her eyes narrowing and a scowl crossing her face. “That prat wasn’t bothering you, was he?”
Hermione turned her head to see Draco standing there, just beyond the edge of the trees. He made no motion to come closer when he saw the pair on the steps, just stood there with his hand shoved in his pockets. She didn’t know why he had followed her, except maybe to mock her. But all it would have taken was a word to Ginny about Hermione’s little lapse in judgement, and she would likely have been ostracized by her friends.
“No, he wasn’t bothering me,” she wrenched her gaze from Draco’s and turned back to Ginny, lacing her arm through that of the younger girl’s. “Let’s go and see if I can find some eloquent words to do Harry justice.”
*************************************************************
Hermione didn’t see him again for weeks.
She had never thought past the war the whole time they were searching for horcruxes, except for the basic stuff; showers, her parents, sleeping for an entire night in her own bed. But with Voldemort gone the world went on, and life became complicated once again.
She had opted to write her NEWTS with the rest of the seventh years who had stayed in school. It wasn’t conceit, but she truly knew more than any student there from her own tutelage. Even DADA would be a snap - she had produced a Patronus under more stressful circumstances, and she had learned even more spells than those required in the curriculum. So she spent that month until the sitting of the exams in the Hogwarts library, revising until she was so tired the pages blurred before her. Harry and Ron had decided to catch up on some of their classes next year, and sit the exams at the same time as Ginny - even if it rankled their pride a little. They were too busy enjoying the life of heroes.
The next time she saw Draco was when she walked into the classroom where her potions NEWT was being held. She stopped short, causing Dean to run into her. She apologized quickly and rushed into the room, taking a seat as far from Draco as she could.
It was like that through the rest of the exams, except she took care to arrive early so there would be no chance of sitting beside him. She had heard Pansy gossiping about why he was taking his NEWTS now rather than waiting a year like Harry and Ron - he needed to find a job out of school. It was hard to remember that he was no longer the little wizard prince he once was, the Malfoy estate having been seized.
Their last exam was the DADA practical, outside on the grounds of Hogwarts. When they were lead out to the site, she could see it was set up like the Triwizard tournament. The maze extended across the entire field, and she could see enough entrances in the front for each student to enter. She shuddered as she stared at the maze, unable to think about anything but that day when Harry and Cedric reappeared, barely aware of Draco standing in front of an entrance not far from hers.
“It’s all safe Miss Granger,” she heard Lupin’s voice behind her, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before moving on. He had come back to Hogwarts to teach full-time at McGonagall’s insistence. She tried to force herself to be calm as he raised his voice to the rest of the class to explain the procedure for the examination. Even in this supposedly safe time, old fears were hard to erase.
The exam itself was easy once she convinced herself that every object wasn’t a portkey designed by Voldemort. The obstacles they had for the students seemed ridiculously easy, but that was because she was used to real beings trying to kill her. But she had to admit, whatever they spell they used to make it seem like she was fighting Merlin himself was rather ingenious. The hardest thing in truth was the last obstacle - a boggart. It was a lower year spell she had done a thousand times, but it never became any easier. Not when her worst fears had become rather more morbid over the past few years.
But once she had vanquished it by picturing Hagrid in a dress, she found herself at the centre of the maze. Prof…..Headmistress McGonagall was standing in the middle, and she gave a bright smile when she saw Hermione. “Well done,” she told Hermione. With the old woman never being much for compliments, the words brought a smile to her face.
She was about to inquire as to when they would receive the results of their NEWTS when she saw Malfoy crashing out of the tunnel not far from her. His face was pale, and she found herself wondering what his boggart had been.
“Well done Mr.Malfoy,” and Hermione almost begrudged him the smile on the headmistress’ face. “You and Miss Granger are the first ones out. I know that will be bonus points with the grading committee.” When she saw Hermione’s mouth open, the headmistress replied before she could even ask, “The results will be sent in a month, same as always,” causing Hermione to close her mouth sheepishly.
“Where’s the exit?” was all Draco asked, obviously not warmed by the woman’s praise.
“Right behind me,” the headmistress replied, stepping aside to reveal another tunnel leading straight out of the maze. “Just follow this one, and take every right turn, and you’ll find yourself back at Hogwarts.”
Hermione wanted to wait with McGonagall until she knew Draco was well and far away from the maze, but knew there was no way to do that without having to explain it to the older woman. So she smiled hesitantly at the headmistress and followed him slowly into the tunnel leading out.
They walked along silently for a moment before Draco asked, “So, are we going to talk about it?”
“No,” she replied curtly, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
And then her back was pressed against the prickly thorns aligning the maze even as his body pressed into her and he dragged his lips across hers. His lips were almost bruising in their intensity, giving her no option but to respond.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she gasped as his teeth grazed against her neck, not even feeling the plants digging into her back. And his only response was to bite down a little harder, and she knew there would be a mark in the morning.
His hand snaked up to fondle her breast, and she almost gasped at the feeling. It was as if her body wasn’t her own domain anymore; he didn’t ask permission, and he didn’t stop. But even without experience, she knew that through the robes it wasn’t enough, wouldn’t be the same.
“I hate you,” she managed weakly, even before reflexively grinding her hips against his. And her protest sounded unconvincing even to her.
“No you don’t,” he replied, and she expected to see a smirk on his face, but his expression was oddly serious.
“I want to,” she told him honestly; but her hands were acting of their own accord, running over his shoulders and tangling in his hair.
He bit her ear, ever so gently, and she let out a low moan. “All I would have to do is slide my hand in your knickers, and I bet it would prove exactly how much you don’t hate me right now.” His voice was soft against her ear.
It was a testament to how aroused she was that she didn’t even blush at his comment, just reached to bring his mouth back to hers. But at that exact moment she could hear others who had finished the exam coming down the path, and she hurriedly pushed Draco away.
“Hermione,” Neville’s face was bright and excited as he walked up to them, Dean not far behind. “Figures you’d be one of the first ones done. Wasn’t that just bloody brilliant? I’ll say, it threw me a bit when I thought it was really Snape there at the end, but somehow I didn’t freeze.” He managed to completely ignore Draco’s presence.
She smiled back at him, hoping that her face didn’t betray what they had just been doing. She quickly moved her hair to cover her ear and neck in case there had been any marks of Draco’s left behind. For once she was grateful for her unruly hair. “At least we’re all done now.”
“Party in the common room to celebrate?” Dean asked, sliding between the group as he moved on up ahead. “My older brother sent me some firewhiskey, and I know Parvarti has some new music by the Twisted Sisters.”
“I’ll be there,” Hermione promised, thankful for once that she hadn’t been at Hogwarts to be the head girl, responsible for turning them all in.
“Granger, I think we should talk,” Draco told her quietly, grabbing her left hand quickly when she turned to go.
She was fully conscious of Neville standing right beside them, waiting to walk back with her. “Us?” she replied with a little laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “What on earth could we have to talk about?”
She forcefully pulled her hand away. She could see Neville gaping at them out of the corner of her eye. “What are you staring at?” Draco snapped, causing the boy to blush in embarrassment.
“Come on Neville,” Hermione told him firmly, as she turned to go. “We have a party to get to.”
Again, she left him standing there all alone, staring after her.
**************************************************************
The next time she saw him, he never even kissed her.
Just over a year since her NEWT scores had arrived, she had rented a flat in Hogsmeade above the tavern for the summer, working for Fred and George so that she could save some money for her second year at the wizarding university in Prague. Tuition cost an arm and leg, but they had the best healer program in the world. She only had another year to go until she could begin her practicum at St.Mungo’s. The twins had opened up a satellite shop as their business had exceeded their London location, and she was helping them get things started.
When she returned home from work one night she could hear Madame Rosemerta showing off the flat across from her to a prospective renter. Janet Harrisburg who had lived there before had decided to move in with her daughter, an offer the younger woman no doubt regretted making. She could hear Rosemerta extolling the virtues of the layout, and Hermione laughed a little under her breath as she inserted her key into the lock - only that woman could make ‘cramped’ seem like a good thing.
Before she could let herself in, the prospective renter stepped out in the hall with Rosemerta.
“Malfoy,” her response was one of surprise. She would have accused him of some deviousness, but he seemed as shocked to see her as she was.
“I take it you two know each other?” her landlord’s eyebrows raised, and sometimes it almost came as a surprise to Hermione that there was anyone in wizarding Britain that didn’t know everything about them. And when the older woman got a little gleam in her eyes, Hermione wanted to curse, because she was well versed in her matchmaking tendencies. “I’ll just leave you alone to get ‘re-acquainted’,” she gave a pointed glance at Hermione before sweeping away. Although not all of it was selfless, she wanted to give her prospective renter some incentive.
“I didn’t know….” he gestured half-heartedly to her presence in front of her flat. “I wouldn’t have come, if I did.”
“Do you want to come in?” the words popped out of their own accord, even as she pushed open the door.
He looked as surprised at she felt at her invitation, but he only nodded and followed her silently into her place, standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as she closed the door behind them. “Tea?” she asked, her throat suddenly dry.
“Sure,” he responded, even though she was sure he would have said the same thing so matter what she asked.
She cluttered around in the kitchen while he made himself comfortable on her couch. She wished they were both muggles, the making of the tea would have made for a welcome distraction while she tried to determine what to say to him. But with two motions of her wand the two cups were made instantaneously.
“What are you doing in Hogsmeade?” she asked, handing him his tea as she sat on the couch, but as far away from him as she could. It was odd, making small talk with him.
“I found another job,” he replied, not looking directly at her. “Flourish and Bott’s, they were looking for a new clerk.”
She forced herself to hide her surprise at his announcement. He had scored nearly as well on his NEWTS as she had, but somehow he was only clerking at the bookstore. But she only sipped at her tea, not wanting to seem cruel or condescending.
But he caught her expression anyway and gave a rueful little laugh, “Not exactly in line with the Malfoy legacy, I know. But not everyone wants to hire…..well, that’s no matter. I couldn’t find a job right out of school and then I did a short spell at the ministry in the ‘broom regulatory control’ office, but well, everyone spent more time staring and gossiping about me - and vandalizing my work space - than they did working, so I quit. And that brings me here.”
It had never occurred to her what his life would be like after the war - an ex-death eater with his mother dead and his father in prison. As much as she had disliked him, it seemed wrong for his whole life to be negatively effected when he had helped out their side so much. Not when he’d betrayed those he used to call friends to help them. Not when he’d turned his back on his own father that he’d tried to hard to impress.
But when he lifted his arm to sip at his tea, and his sleeve rode up, she could see the permanent reminder on his forearm of who he had been. And she supposed it was enough for people to dislike and fear him. Merlin knew it had been enough for her.
“Are you working in Hogsmeade as well?” the ridiculously polite question seemed out of place coming from him, but she nodded. “For the summer, saving up some money, then I’m back to healer training in Prague.”
He didn’t say anything, but she could tell by the look on his face as he turned away that her announcement bothered him. Not so much that she was a mudblood and accomplishing all these things, but that he wasn’t. But it was maybe it was a testament to how much he’d matured that he didn’t rip into her out of jealousy.
Draco finished his tea and set the empty cup down on the coffee table. He let his hands rest on his knees, then pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. “I should be going,” he told her hesitantly.
And she grabbed his hand, surprising them both for the second time that evening. “Stay.”
**********************************************************************************
When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was to find herself leaning against Draco, still fast asleep on her couch. She pulled away gently, not wanting to wake him, absentmindedly rubbing the kink in her neck. She couldn’t even remember falling asleep, and judging by the sun rising through her window she had to be at work soon.
She didn’t know what she had expected when she invited him to stay. It had been an impulse, nothing more. They had nothing between them but an encounter at the lake and a couple kisses. She hadn’t even seen him in over a year. But when he stood up to leave, she hadn’t wanted him to go.
It should have been awkward at the very least. And maybe at the very beginning it was. They had no history between them except one of hate and malice. But they had began to talk - really talk - more than the requisite chit chat one made with strangers. More than she had ever talked with Ron and Harry, her two closest friends.
She learned about him from more than his words. It was in his body actions, his mannerisms. He couldn’t seem to speak freely when she was looking directly at him; when she had ended up with her head resting against his chest by the end of the evening, unable to see his face, that was when he found it easiest to talk.
It was impossible to try and believe that she hated him anymore. Talking to him for once had accomplished what lust couldn’t even do - it made her see Draco as something more.
Somehow she thought she was the only one on earth who had ever heard his confessions.
She didn’t think he had ever admitted to Pansy the overwhelming need to prove himself to his father. Somehow he and Blaise probably never bonded over Severus Snape, the man who gave everything up to keep Draco alive. And his minions Crabbe and Goyle probably never had an inkling that Draco had actually loved his mother, in spite of it all.
“Why did you join Voldemort?” She had asked the question the night before. She’d always assumed she’d known the answer, but somehow she wasn’t so sure anymore.
He hadn’t answered, just tangled his fingers in her hair lightly. And she had waited, not saying anything until he finally replied, “I honestly don’t know.”
Now in the sunlight streaming in through the window he looked less nefarious than he liked to think he was. By no means an innocent, but no villain. She was tempted to smooth the hair falling in his face, but she resisted and pulled back, gently lifting his arm off her and slipping from the couch.
She showered quickly and efficiently, not having much time before work, and when she exited the bathroom he was still sleeping on the couch. Caught up in looking at him, she stubbed her toe on a chair and had to physically hold her hand to her mouth to keep from cursing out loud. She hobbled as best she could into the bedroom, and slipped into a blouse for work while pinning her hair back so it would have time to dry.
Leaving a note and a key on the table for him, she paused only to give Draco a brief glance before letting herself out of the apartment.
*********************************************************************
It was a busy day at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Apparently summer brought out an unexpected need for both love potions and trick wands. Hermione smiled at Flitwick as she packaged up the Ton-Tongue Toffees he was buying as a joke for his fourth year class. She could picture the horrified looks when the children’s tongues swelled and turned purple.
She was helping the customers in the front with their assistant Verity while Fred and George were working in the back. Of course they all knew that was a euphemism for ‘napping’. They were creative and dedicated when they needed to be, but other than that tended to defer to the hired help.
Hermione heard the bell above the door chime as another customer entered the store. And her hands stilled on the counter as she registered the sight of Draco. He looked a little out of place in the joke shop, and kept glancing around warily as if expecting something to attack him.
“Hermione,” he finally caught sight of her, and walked up to the counter. “I thought you might like your key back.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, grabbing the key quickly from him and shooting a glance at the back room where Fred and George were holed up.
She wanted to get him out of there before they came back. Fred and George despised the Malfoys with an intensity that would have made Ron proud. But Draco wasn’t leaving. He seemed to be indecisive, then finally muttered quietly, “Would you like to grab a butterbeer after work?”
The look on his face was nothing she had ever seen in regards to him before. Draco Malfoy didn’t do ‘vulnerable’, but he seemed to be doing a pretty good impression of it. But before she could open her mouth to answer, the twins came out of the back room fighting with some charmed swords. But they stilled, and their playful expressions hardened, when they saw Draco standing at the counter.
“This prat bothering you, Hermione?” It was George who asked the question while he and Fred moved to flank her protectively.
“No,” she answered quickly, “Draco was just leaving. He thought one of his friends had wandered in here.”
“Friends?” Fred scoffed at the word. “The death eater has friends? I doubt it. Probably stopped by to goad you into a fight.”
“He was just leaving,” Hermione repeated, wanting to keep the peace.
And she saw a shuttered expression cross Draco’s face; the hope that had been in his eyes when he asked her out was extinguished. She wanted to explain, wanted to defend him to the twins, but they were both her bosses and her friends - and they would rather die than accept a Malfoy. She had burned him before, hiding from her friends, but she knew that he had believed after last night that things would be different. That they would be different. And against all indications of his character, he had taken the first step.
She hated making him feel like he wasn’t worth anything in the light of day, she had felt like that too often in her lifetime. But she didn’t have a choice. At least that’s what she told herself when she saw the cold expression settle onto Malfoy’s face.
“Like I would want to talk to the mudblood,” and his animosity made it sound like he meant the insult.
He didn’t even look back as he stalked angrily out the door.
*********************************************************
She could feel his lips on the back of her neck as she hurriedly jammed the key into the lock of her apartment door. His tongue languidly caressed the back of her ear as she fumbled with the lock, distracted by the feeling of her insides turning to mush.
They had run into each other doing Christmas shopping of all things. She was picking up a necklace for her mother, he was grabbing a last minute gift for his boss. It was been two years since they had seen each other last that day at the joke shop. But it meant nothing since he had kissed her hungrily right in the store, bending her backwards over the jewellery counter much to the annoyance of the shop’s proprietor.
She had apologized to the man with her eyes as they nearly ran from the store, her hand clasped on Draco’s forearm as if she didn’t want to let him go. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head telling her that this was a horrible idea as she apparated them back to her flat. This wasn’t her; she didn’t have sex on a whim. Losing her virginity to Donald, a classmate of hers, had been well-planned out after a solid six months of dating. And there had been nobody since.
It didn’t even matter that she hadn’t seen him in such a long time; as his teeth bit down lightly on her earlobe the details ceased to matter. She finally managed to get the door open, and almost tripped over her own feet dragging him in, barely having the presence of mind to slam the door shut behind her as she spun to face him.
When he bent his head down to her it was nothing like she had thought it would be. She was expecting the violence of his previous embraces, the heavy force of his lips and body against hers. But his lips were almost gentle when they touched hers, and her lips parted only of their own accord. This wouldn’t be something she could blame him for in the morning.
He pulled away after a minute, and she took a deep, but shaky, breath to steady herself. “My bedroom’s this way,” her words were soft, even as she took his hand and pulled him along behind her.
Draco didn’t ask permission as he drew her dress over her head, but then again he didn’t need it. She’d made it rather clear what her intentions were. And as she hastily unbuttoned his pants and slipped her hand inside, there would be no mistaking what she wanted.
“Slow down,” he murmured the words even as he shucked his pants and boxers and tossed them aside.
She knew what he meant, had heard his laboured breathing even as she caressed him, but she didn’t want to slow down. She didn’t want to think, because then she would see the merits in stopping, and that was the last thing that she wanted at the moment. But she hesitated anyway, removing her hand from his growing erection and letting his trail up his chest, unbuttoning and pushing aside his shirt as she went.
“I’m going to be the best you’ve ever had,” she didn’t know if his words were a threat or a promise, but when he pulled down the straps of her bra and caressed her breasts with his tongue, she didn’t care. “The best you’ll ever have.”
She could feel herself being pushed back against the bed, and as she let herself fall back onto it he came overtop of her. He cupped her breast in his hand before sliding it down - and she didn’t know until he stroked it that the bellybutton could be an erogenous zone - eventually to the band of her knickers which he slid out of the way.
“You want this,” the words were more a statement than a question as he danced his fingers around the core of her. Teasing her but never really touching her. And she didn’t reply except to moan in frustration and try and arch herself into his hand.
But he didn’t give in, just mercilessly teased her as he demanded, “Tell me that you want this.”
“I want this Draco,” she threw the words at him. Words that were truthful, but she hated the way he forced them from her. “I want you.”
The last statement seemed to please him, and he gave her what she wanted, lightly fingering her clit before delving his fingers into her warmth. She gasped as the pleasure shot through her, and his fingers roughly slid in and out.
“You’re so fucking wet,” She could hear and feel his voice rumbling against her as he kissed her chest, talking more to himself than he was to her. He let his finger play with her clit again, making her bite her lip to keep from crying out. “Can’t deny that you want me now. Can’t pretend to hate me.”
Hermione thoughts were jumbled, but she wasn’t sure if she should say something because his words sounded nothing like endearments. His tone was menacing, but Merlin help her, that turned her on more than tender words ever could have. She grasped his long hair in her hands, pulling him up so she could kiss him, and there was nothing gentle about it now with his lips almost bruising hers.
And then he was pulling away, muttering a protection charm underneath his breath before sliding into her roughly. It was quick, giving her no time to adjust to his width, but surprisingly painless. But she didn’t even have time to think about anything before he pulled out and slammed back into her again, cutting off all intelligent thought. He continued to move, changing the angle and timing with each stroke, not giving her a change to adjust to his rhythm.
When she came it wasn’t like anything she had felt before. To her an orgasm as a tidy thing, a subtle release of pressure with an accompanying moan. But tonight she was almost sobbing her release, biting his shoulder to keep from screaming, not wanting to wake her neighbours. “Draco,” she gasped even as he came, knowing somehow it was his name that he wanted to hear, and held him as he shuddered.
*****************************************************************
When Hermione awoke in the morning it was to an empty bed. It would have been tempting to chalk it all up to a brilliant dream save for the smell of sex in the air and the tenderness between her legs. She listened for a moment in case he was in the shower, but he seemed to have taken off entirely. Not that she was critical, he likely had to get to work and she had overslept - not having set her alarm because it was an off-day for her.
She frowned a little as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table. She was due to meet Harry for breakfast in a half hour; he wanted to say goodbye before he went on a training mission to France.
She took longer in the shower then she should have, because that act in itself reminded her of the last night with Draco. As she ran the soap over her body all she could think of was his hands sliding over her, and the soreness between her legs could only be attributed to him. And when she stood naked in front of the mirror admiring his handiwork, she could see the marks he had left on her body, from the bruises where he had grasped her arms to the unmistakable hickey on her collarbone.
And, as such, she was late meeting Harry.
“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized as she jogged up to him, almost slipping on a patch of ice. They had been supposed to meet at the Three Broomsticks for a quick meal, the pub belonging to her former landlord.
“No problem, I just got here myself,” he assured her. But he motioned to the bustling place in front of them. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to get a table anyway.”
“Grab a coffee at Madame Puddifoot’s?” she suggested, motioning towards the other establishment down the street.
There were many people strolling about the village of Hogsmeade, both customers of the many stores and people going to work. Hermione laughed a little as people stared at them as they walked by. Nearly four years since the defeat of Voldemort and people were still fascinated by Harry. It was part of the reason he spent time living in Hogsmeade versus the much larger London. She had no doubt some nosey reporter would have them as a couple by evening.
But as they passed the bookstore she saw a familiar figure walking up to the door. Draco.
She could feel Harry stiffen at the sight of the blond man. They had never reconciled their differences, and had only worked together out of necessity. Harry blamed Draco for Dumbledore’s death - and with no other suitable target he blamed him for everyone else’s as well. Although Hermione believed that the deaths were only an excuse for their animosity, those two wouldn’t have gotten along even if Draco had been faithful to their cause the whole time.
She looked at one of her best friends standing beside her, and the man who she had just slept with. And she knew it was time to take a chance, she couldn’t walk past Draco and pretend that nothing had ever occurred between them.
“I have to someone to say hello to,” she told Harry, squeezing his arm before walking quickly over to where Draco was about to enter Flourish and Bott’s. She could see the betrayal evident in his face when he realized who she was approaching, and she prayed he would understand.
“Draco,” she said his name rather shyly as she approached him. “I was hoping you’d be free for dinner tonight.”
She could see him stare past her to where Harry was standing, glaring at the pair of them, and she could tell he realized what it cost her to make this overture. After today there wouldn’t be a single soul in her circle of friends who didn’t know there was something between them. And she could only hope they would all get past it in time.
When he looked back at her she fully thought he would reply in the affirmative. At the very least because the night before had been amazing, but more because she believed there was something more between them. So it was a shock to her when he turned around without saying a word and pulled open the door to the shop.
She stood there in shock when he hesitated and turned around to face her, but his expression was anything but kind. “You were just leaving,” he threw the words out, rather snidely, before letting himself into the shop. She couldn’t make sense of his reply for a moment, before remembering the excuse she had used that day he had made the overture to her at the joke shop. It took a moment for her to understand, but one could never accuse Hermione Granger of being stupid.
It had never even occurred to her that she had used him, even if she had. She had never really believed there was anything wrong in her actions before, and had fully expected that he would understand. Or at the very least, forgive and forget.
She turned back to Harry, but he was no longer standing there waiting for her. She had lost one of her best friends, and with nothing to show for it. She was left standing there alone in the snow as the holiday crowds milled around her. And as she started to walk away, she let the interactions between her and Draco play out in her mind, time and time again. On some level she knew she should have seen the it coming, but not for the reasons she would have once assumed.
It was tempting to blame Draco entirely, and it would have been the easiest thing to do. However, as she passed a store window she caught her reflection - and she could see her facial expression. It mirrored that which had crossed his face that day in the joke shop - and to a lesser extent during their previous encounters. And the thought came to her that she hadn’t even contemplated before.
She had nobody to blame but herself.
[The end]
STORY REQUEST
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: war or post-war & angst (be it a lot or a little)
What rating would you prefer? R, NC17
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): fluff, Veela!Draco or secretly pureblooded Hermione
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Oh.. wow. Did not expect the ending. But.. it was so.. beautiful. *SNIFFS*
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no subject
But again! Great work. ^___^
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Great story!