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Chapter 5 : Absence of Regret
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Unthinkable Thoughts – A Draco/Hermione Fan Fic.
Chapter Five: Absence of Regret
Hermione strode briskly through Wizarding London, pulling her cloak tightly around her as she went. Strong winds forced her hair back and needle sharp raindrops hit her face, making her shiver. The skies were grey and never ending, flawed by gatherings of dark clouds; much like her conscience and recently marred self-image.
He’d kissed her.
Draco Malfoy had kissed her, Hermione Granger, and the disaster hadn’t even ended there – she hadn’t pushed him away. Well, she had, but not immediately. Hermione blushed even now, days after the incident, when her thoughts drifted back to that cursed moment at Grimmuald Place. Her heart sped up at the memory of his hot breath against the shell of her ear, his lips travelling along the line of her jaw; his hands in her hair pulling her closer.
How could she have done that to Ron? Malfoy was beyond betrayal. Ron would despise her if he knew. How could she have done that to herself, given who Malfoy was and what he thought of her and her “kind”?
How could she have remained in his arms for several minutes; her hands in his blond hair, gasping at his touches?
Swallowing woefully, she pushed open the door to the colourful shop of what used to belong to both of the Weasley twins but had now been left in George’s possession alone.
Upon spotting Ron’s cheerful grin as he discovered her, she realised she hadn’t asked herself the most important question of all.
Why couldn’t she bring herself to regret it?
“Are you absolutely sure you’re full, Hermione dear?” asked Mrs Weasley later that evening at the Burrow, in the same concerned and motherly tone she always had when speaking her children or Harry and Hermione.
“Perfectly sure,” Hermione replied, hoping her smile appeared more genuine than she felt.
“You look a bit pale you know,” Ron’s mother continued with a frown as she cleared the table with a speed that could only be recognised as a true housewife’s.
“Mum,” said Ron, rolling his eyes, “do you have to worry about someone all the time? Honestly, you need to relax a bit.”
Hermione’s gratitude towards Ron was followed by a profound pang of guilt. Yes, she felt guilty – but not sorry - for what had happened. The thought of what she had done sickened her; but not nearly as much as the memory of her own reaction did. She felt physically ill when she realised that she wanted Malfoy to do it again; wanted to be pressed against the wall by him again.
She didn’t recognise herself in this desire, this wasn’t her; she didn’t need a cruel, narrow-minded Slytherin – she needed a warm, gentle Gryffindor, she needed Ron. She loved Ron; she had loved him for years, hadn’t she?
Looking over the table at her boyfriend, she fixed him with what she hoped was a flirtatious gaze. She had never been particularly good at the whole seduction act. When he noticed her, she let her eyes flicker towards the staircase, before looking back at him suggestively. Ron appeared to understand her, as he hid an enthusiastic grin behind a feigned yawn and declared his withdrawal to his room.
The last thing Hermione saw of the kitchen before she followed Ron upstairs after thanking Mrs Weasley for the supper, was Harry rolling his eyes.
Ron was an attentive lover. His kisses were soft, fluttering and respectful, his touches almost tentative, yet lingering and warm. He worshipped her; she could tell, he was so gentle and kind with her, and she had always loved that about him.
But, tonight... Tonight, Hermione found herself wanting something else. The feeling of safety and relaxation wasn’t what she yearned for; she craved the sensation of danger and excitement, she wanted a raw silence and demanding movements, she wanted him; wanted every desire he’d awoken within her with a few commanding kisses to be satisfied.
Hermione closed her eyes. Red hair became blond strands before her inner vision; freckled cheeks transformed into aristocratic cheekbones underneath smooth, unblemished skin. She gasped.
“Hermione,” Ron sighed against her hair, “I love you, you know.”
A single tear ran down her cheek as she turned away from him; facing the wall. “I love you too,” she replied dutifully, glad he couldn’t see her face as that would have revealed her guilt-ridden exasperation instantly.
Ron’s arm was around her waist, the white cotton pillow damp with shameful tears against her cheek, before Hermione finally drifted off into an anxious sleep.
Hermione cursed herself when she stood outside the door of Gimmuald Place. Why did she do this? What good could possibly come out of this? She had justified her choice to go here by telling herself that she needed to speak with Draco; to clear things up, forget The Little Incident as she had come to refer their kiss as in her mind, and get on with life. However; an annoyingly persistent voice in the back of her mind told her judgementally that her curiosity was the biggest component in this stupid, stupid idea.
Despite better judgment, she pressed the doorbell with a trembling finger, and waited.
Hermione, who had expected a House Elf to answer the door, was startled at the sight of Draco, and recoiled reflexively. He looked over his shoulder and into the house, before he turned his angered face back to her.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Hermione, who was wondering the exact same thing, said nothing. She stared into his grey eyes, trying to read his expression, but all she could distinguish was an apparent annoyance and reluctance.
“I need to talk to you,” she said at last, “can I come in?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I was the one answering the door, Mudblood? If my father had seen you-“
“Yeah, yeah,” she grimaced, “he’d curse me and my Mudblood heritage into next week, I get it Malfoy.”
He didn’t speak, merely regarded her suspiciously.
“So,” Hermione pressed on, “can I come in?”
Not letting his apprehensive and disgruntled gaze stray from her for a second, Draco stepped aside, granting her entrance.
“You know where my room is,” he grunted. Two stairs, second door on the left.”
“So,” Malfoy said in a business like tone, “you wanted to talk. So talk.”
Hermione twiddled nervously with the end of her scarf, looking down at the undoubtedly expensive carpet. She could feel his inspective eyes on her.
“I guess I just wanted to clear up what happened here last week,” she began quietly, stealing a quick glance of Draco’s reaction.
His lips were pressed tightly together, but other than that nothing betrayed what he really was feeling. Damn Slytherin.
“Last week was a mistake and it won’t be repeated,” Draco said at last.
Hermione wasn’t prepared for the nauseating jolt of disappointment she experienced at his dismissal. She couldn’t understand it. He was right, in spite of everything; it had been a mistake, and it should certainly not be repeated.
“Right,” she agreed, “it was a mistake.”
She must have sounded a lot less convincing than she had attempted, because Malfoy was smirking now, one eyebrow arched.
“Really, Granger,” he drawled, “you Gryffindors truly are transparent.”
She narrowed her eyes, but her heart was racing. “What are you playing at, Malfoy?”
Before she really knew how it had happened, he was within her personal space, making her back up against the wall. God, he was too close. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent almost reluctantly, and he laughed quietly.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “You love this. You didn’t come here to talk, did you Mudblood?”
“I hate you,” she hissed, her eyes still shut.
“Liar,” he replied almost softly. ”You came here wishing I’d touch you again, isn’t that right?”
Strands of his hair was the only thing touching her physically; brushing against her forehead as he bent down to look at her, and she realised to her utter humiliation and shame, that she was trembling from his voice alone.
“No,” she whispered, pushing him away. “No, that’s not what I want – that’s what you want, you kissed me, Malfoy!”
“And you loved it.” It wasn’t a question.
She glared up at him. “I thought kissing me would be beneath a Pureblood like you,” she spat. “And yet you did it, didn’t you? You kissed me willingly Malfoy, don’t you dare try to blame this on me.”
He sneered. “So what if I initiated it? You let me, Granger. You have no self-respect at all, do you?”
Hermione was breathing heavily with anger and frustration. “I should clearly leave,” she said icily.
He regarded her coolly. “You should.”
Hermione pushed past him and headed for the door in determined strides when he spoke again.
“Granger? Make sure you don’t run into my father on your way out.”
“Why do you care?” she said crossly, looking at him over her shoulder.
“I’d rather not let him know that I allow Mudbloods into his home,” Draco replied spitefully. “Why, did you think it was out of concern for you, dirt?”
Hermione fled into the corridor outside Draco’s room, fighting not to take in his insensitive words. With hurried steps she moved through the house, cursing herself for getting into the mess; for allowing Draco Malfoy out of all people get under her skin. She shouldn’t be surprised. The Slytherin was who he was; the same cold and arrogant brat he always had been.
Steps issued behind her; a cool hand reached forwards, catching her wrist, forcing her to spin around. A feeling of sick foreboding in the pit of her stomach told her it was Lucius Malfoy’s long fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she was stunned when she found herself gazing into Draco’s grey eyes.
He placed a finger to her lips, and shushed softly. “I’m sorry.”
Letting his finger descend from her lips, down to her narrow chin, he tilted her face up towards him and leant down. Hermione let her eyes close, enjoying the unfamiliar feelings of desire that overwhelmed her in his presence.
After what seemed like an eternity but could only have been mere seconds, his lips pressed softly against hers.
AN: Woop! I updated one of my many WIP’s! This story is alive once again; I plan on finishing it ASAP. I hope you guys are still with me. Please leave me a review, it only takes a second and it means the world to me =)
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