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Contours by GryffindorGirl153
Chapter 26 : Chapter Twenty-Six
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 49


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Contours
By: Gryffindorgirl153

WARNING: this chapter contains some strong language and some sexually graphic scenes.
just sayinnn!

Previously


“He’ll come around. Don’t worry.” He reassured her. “Draco’s been hurt, and he’s still as stubborn as before. There’s no way he can turn you down. He’s been a downright mess ever since you left.”

“This isn’t over yet.” She told Blaise, looking at him through his reflection in the mirror. Her expression was cold, hard and determined. Blaise knew that Hermione was not about to let go of Draco without a fight. “Miranda won’t get what she wants this time—not if I have something to do with it.”

Blaise grinned widely in approval. “You know, I think I’m really starting to like this new-and-improved you.” He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and smiled down at her. “Sleep well, Granger.”

Chapter Twenty-Five


The sun was slowly descending from its highest point in the sky as the couple bustled through the Malfoy Manor, both extremely nervous for the next hour to come. Despite the several hired help Narcissa Malfoy had insisted on having, neither Pansy nor Theodore could calm him or herself down. After several failed attempts, Draco had finally forced both Pansy and Theodore on a seat in separate rooms. He sent Miranda to tend to Pansy, while Blaise tried his best to get Theodore down from his anxious high, and back onto his feet.

For the past five hours, Draco had been bustling around the Manor making sure that everything was perfect. He was almost positive that if one little thing were to actually go wrong, Pansy would have a mental breakdown. After the previous night’s events, he made sure to occupy his mind with anything and everything he could possibly think of. He quickly delved into wedding preparations, with hopes that it would bring his mind further and further from Hermione. For the first few hours, it worked. He arranged the white, folding chairs in the garden, and hung several lights amongst the trees. However, as the day drew on, sunset—which would mark the moment Pansy and Theodore will be wedded—was quickly making its way.

“You know, if you keep running around like this, you’re going to eventually run out of things to do before the ceremony begins.” The voice startled Draco, causing him to slightly bump against the doorframe on his way out of the kitchen. “I swear, you’ve double checked on this cake about five times. It doesn’t have legs, Draco. The cake isn’t going anywhere.”

He turned to find Miranda standing by the sink, holding a saucer in her hands. She was completely dressed, wearing one of Pansy’s assigned brides-mate’s dresses. “You scared me.” He said, releasing his hold on the swinging door as he turned around to face Miranda. “What are you doing in here?”

“Pansy hasn’t eaten all day. I thought I’d get her some tea. If only I could find some.” She chuckled softly, and turned back to face the cupboards above the counter. “Help me, will you?”

Draco nodded and stepped forward, saying, “I’ll get it.”

As he fixed the cup of tea, silence fell upon them. For a moment, Draco thought that Miranda had quietly walked out of the kitchen, but the soft sound of fabric ruffling behind him told him otherwise. He held a small spoon loosely in his hand, slowly mixing the tea and honey. Unsure of what to say, Draco slowed his motions, hoping that Miranda would eventually grow tired of watching him fix tea, and leave the kitchen.

“Draco,” she began, her voice startling Draco again. “You know that you will eventually have to face her, right?”

The last person Draco wanted to talk about was Hermione; the last person Draco wanted to talk to about Hermione was Miranda. He then concluded that Miranda shouldn’t be saying anything about Hermione at all—ever. It was simple logic.

“I’m not avoiding her, if that’s what you’re implying.” He responded quickly. “I don’t want Pansy driven to insanity on her own wedding night. “

To his surprise, Miranda scoffed. “Don’t try and deny it, Draco. Anyone in this house can tell that you’re trying your hardest to keep your mind away from her. Especially after what happened last night, she never really left you.”

Adding more hot water to the small teacup in front of him, Draco tried his best to ignore the bitter retort that clawed through his throat, wanting to escape. “She did leave me, Miranda. She left me a year ago, and that’s that. Don’t try to make this something that it’s not.” He told her, keeping his eyes fixed on the swirling, brown liquid.

“Don’t try and hide it.” Miranda replied shortly after. Her voice turned hard—more solemn and cold. “You can’t avoid her for the whole night, no matter how hard you try.”

This time around, Draco didn’t answer. No matter how many times he denied it, the fact would still remain. Hermione would never leave him—no matter where she is in the world—and there is absolutely no way for Draco to remove Hermione from his mind. He was abandoned and forsaken, and no matter what Hermione said or did, there was nothing any one could do to take it back. There was nothing that could take back the yearlong pain Draco was forced to face the moment Hermione decided to leave, despite its temporariness. A changed Hermione Granger wasn’t anywhere near enough to clean up the mess she made out of the man that loved her.

“The ceremony will start soon.” Miranda said suddenly, breaking through Draco’s thoughts. “Bring that to Pansy, and meet everyone out in the garden.”

Her assertion startled him, but all the while, he expected a cold response. Although she spoke of it, the situation between Hermione and him was always a touchy subject. He could easily pick out the resentment in her tone whenever anyone came even close to uttering her name. Hermione had what Miranda wanted to most, and Miranda hated her for it.

“I will.” was all he said in response.

The ceremony was shorter than Draco had hoped it would be. Blaise, the pianist, played as Pansy descended down the aisle, and Theodore stood at the end of the aisle, grinning like a madman. The minister said his part, and both the bride and the groom said his and her vows. Once the words ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’ came, they were bound to each other, as husband and wife.

Draco stood by Theodore’s side; unable to disregard the feeling of jealousy that racked through his body the moment Theodore became Pansy’s husband. Although he knew that all he should be feeling at the moment was pure happiness for his best friend, the only thing he could think of was how it should’ve been Hermione and him up there. How it should’ve been the two of them kissing for the first time as husband and wife as they basked in each other’s bliss.

No matter how hard he tried, his eyes continued to wander towards Hermione, who had appeared by Pansy’s side about a minute before the ceremony started. She missed walking down the aisle, and Draco momentarily wondered if she decided to run away again. However, her sudden appearance beside Pansy told him otherwise. Her dress, being more extravagant than the brides mate’s dresses, made Hermione look even more stunning than ever. Her hair was straightened with bits of sparkles glistening from sporadic strands. Unlike Miranda, her face steered clear of make up, except for a soft shade of lipstick, mascara and some eyeliner. As she held both her flowers and Pansy’s, she smiled at the couple being wedded before her. Throughout the entire ceremony, her eyes remained on the couple, with the exceptional glances directed to her hands or to the Minister. Nevertheless, Draco was left disappointed by the end of the ceremony when he realized that Hermione didn’t even spear a single glance—not one.

“I can’t believe our little boy is married!” Blaise exclaimed as he approached Draco and clapped a hand on his back.

Draco was leaning against a post by the outskirts of the dance floor with his hands tucked into his pockets. His face looked sullen, and his eyes remained empty. After dodging both Miranda and Pansy for the first half hour of the reception dinner, he gave up on running and remained standing, watching as happy couples danced. To his dismay, his eyes would constantly scan the crowd, searching for a familiar brunette that made his fists clench with anger with the mere thought of her name. However, no matter how much he searched, Draco could not find her. It was as if she didn’t bother showing up to the reception.

“She didn’t leave, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Blaise said suddenly, following his gaze towards the crowd. “Pansy said she would arrive soon. She just had to get some things settled inside the Manor.”

Draco frowned. “What is she doing in the manor?”

Shrugging, Blaise retracted his hand from Draco’s shoulder and tucked them inside his pockets as well. “I wish I knew. I haven’t seen much of Hermione since she returned.”

“Why is that?” Draco questioned, turning his gaze back to the dance floor.

Blaise shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried?” A frown formed on Draco’s face—the first emotion he has displayed in hours—as he asked Blaise. “She’s running off doing god-knows-what by herself, and you don’t even seem worried at all.”

He chuckled. “Draco, you don’t need to worry about her. She’s a big girl. She was doing fine in Greece all by herself. She did more than fine in fact. I’m sure she can handle being back in London.”

“Hermione wrote to you?” Draco asked, suddenly turning towards Blaise who looked surprised by his sudden question. “While she was gone, she wrote to you?”

Unable to think of the proper answer, Blaise looked down at his feet—a usual act of nervousness—and attempted to discreetly rack his brain for an answer. “Er—mate, you see, the thing is—”

Clearly exasperated, Draco rolled his eyes and glowered at his friend. “I want a straight answer. Don’t give me that load of dung. It’s either a yes, or a no.”

Blaise sighed in defeat, knowing that he could never get anything past Draco at this point—especially if it involved Hermione. “Yes, we kept in touch while she was gone. She wrote to all of us, mate. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. She begged us not to let any of you know.”

Upon his revelation, Draco scoffed bitterly. He slumped back against the post, and allowed the music to momentarily drown him. His throat ached for alcohol, and his hands craved for impact against something; anything hard. “How typical of her.”

“Look, Draco. She didn’t do this just to spite you. She didn’t do it for her own selfish reason. If I were her, I wouldn’t have written to you too.” His animated demeanor was suddenly diminished by the glum look that took over Draco’s handsome face. “Mate, I think you two need to talk. I can’t tell you anything more than I already did—I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. You need to talk to Hermione. Don’t listen to what everyone else says. Listen to Hermione, and hear what she has to say. I know it’s hard, but please—for both your sakes—just talk to her, and listen.”

Before Draco could respond, a sudden applause brought Draco’s attention back to the crowd. Pansy and Theodore had just returned to their party. However, unlike the several other guests scattered around the garden of the manor, it was not the bride that caught Draco’s attention. Behind Pansy, there was Hermione Granger—perfect and smiling—strapped onto another mans’ arm. Her left arm was effortlessly twined with his right, as they walked through the crowd, making their way to the-now-empty dance floor. As Pansy and Theodore began dancing, stepping to the beat of the waltz, Hermione and the unnamed man began dancing as well.

A sudden monster erupted in Draco before he could even help himself. There was suddenly an incredible amount of rage residing in his body, and he had no idea what to make of it. There she was, dancing with another man at her best friends’ wedding, and all Draco could do was stand in the sidelines, watching with immense contempt. He had never wanted to punch anything so badly in his entire life. He could feel his blood surging towards his right hand as he tightly clenched it into a fist, as if it did any good. His lips pressed together tightly, and he tore his gaze away from the dance floor, gluing them onto his feet, hoping that it was permanent. Unfortunately, his eyes didn’t do well in following his commands, because he found himself searching for her through the crowd once more. It was a terrible habit that he seemed to have picked throughout the days he’s known Hermione—searching for her in a crowd, something he found incredibly strange, unorthodox, and natural all that the same time.

She was smiling, as if she was having the time of her life. Her loud laughter rang through his ears, reminding him of how musical it sounded. The man she was with looked too incredibly happy himself. Draco grimaced at the smug expression that was plastered on the bloke’s—who most likely believed that he was the luckiest man in the room—perfectly formed face. It took every ounce of rational thinking in Draco’s mind to prevent him from smashing his first into said man’s face. Every, single, ounce.

“Is this what she had to settle?” Draco growled spitefully, glaring daggers at Hermione and her date. “This stupid, incorrigible prat?”

He quickly turned back to Blaise after a few more moments passed without an answer. “Don’t look at me!” Blaise exclaimed quickly, throwing his hands up in the air. “I know nothing about this. She never told any of us that she brought a date.”

Scowling, Draco regrettably turned back to the dance floor. His eyes automatically found Hermione once more, and he wasn’t surprised to find that she was still smiling happily in the arms of another man. “You two communicate for a whole bloody year, and she doesn’t bother to mention that she’s bringing a date to Pansy’s wedding? That’s simply wonderful.” Draco spat sardonically. “What right does she have to intrude on her own friend’s wedding by bringing in an outsider?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Blaise rolled his eyes. “Mate, I’m pretty sure Pansy knew that Hermione was going to bring someone. I do remember seeing a plus one next to her name. It’s only a date, Draco. Relax. They could just be friends for all you know.”

For a small fragment of a moment, Draco believed the words Blaise spoke for comfort. A small voice in his mind agreed, believing that Hermione would never be able to do that to him, or any other man for that matter—not in a million years. Although the two left on bad terms, Hermione could never—no—would never replace him. Never.

As Draco averted his eyes away from the ground, and back to the dance floor, just as the song was coming to an end, his body spontaneously reacted quicker than his mind, and he suddenly felt a familiar feeling of rage flaming through his veins. His hands balled up tightly by his sides, and it was not until Blaise took a step forward beside him that he finally realized what had caused the sudden eruption of anger in his body. He kissed her. Full on the lips—he kissed her. It was nothing close to a friendly peck, or even a familiar kiss on the cheek. No. It was moderately long, passionate, and disgusting.

The man’s hands found the back of her head, and slowly brought her closer to him. All the while, he sported a sly, disgruntled grin—one that strangely left his perfect face pristine. It was repulsive to watch, and yet, Draco could not look away. Part of him expected Hermione to recoil with the same disgusted look that was etched on his own face. Unfortunately, Hermione did just the opposite. She leaned in closer to her partner, hooking her right arm around his neck, and it looked as though she was deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, a pair of hands poked through his line of vision, and his eyes moved from Hermione and settled on Miranda. “What?” he asked, more rudely than he wanted to. “What is it?” he asked again once he composed himself.

A bitter chuckle slipped past her lips. “You need to do a better job in hiding your own anger.” She told him, taking a step closer. “It’s as if you’re practically beating him to death in your mind.”

“Oh trust me,” Blaise spoke, picking up a glass of champagne from a waiter walking by. “He is.” He took a sip, and his face suddenly scrunched up with disgust. “Ugh, I forgot how much I hate drinking this load of dung.”

Before Draco could pick his fist up to throw a punch at Blaise, Blaise left the glass on a random table, and made his way to the bar. “He never could stand the taste.” Miranda spoke quietly. “What’s on your mind?” she then asks him gently, making her way to his side. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something is troubling you. It’s her, isn’t it?”

“If you’re going to go on and on about just how stupid it is to be holding onto her, then please, spare me.” Draco snapped suddenly, surprising both Miranda and himself. “Look I’m sorry, but I’ve heard enough of what you’re about to tell me from everyone else. I don’t really need it right now.”

Miranda sighed heavily, and downed the rest of her champagne. “Look, Draco. I understand what you’re telling me. But let me just tell you now. If you keep holding on to the past like this, you’re going to miss out on the present, and you will regret it. Maybe not now, but I assure you. You will eventually regret it.”

The next few seconds were a complete blur. One moment, he was watching Miranda walk away, with a feeling of slight relief settling into the pit of his stomach, and then the next moment, his legs were moving him through the crowd and across the dance floor. Unknown of what sparked this spontaneous decision of his, Draco decided to go along with it for the sake of his own sanity. Hermione grew closer and closer, and so did her smile, her scent, her laugh and everything about her. It felt strange to see her standing before him like so. There were several times in the past year when Draco wished she would appear before him, but she never did. Now, she was standing before him, right there within arms reach, but Draco could not kiss or hug her like he had always wanted. Times were different now, and so were they. Could they still possibly want the same things?

“Hermione.” She turned around at the sound of her name, and he could swear that a small smile found its way onto her lips. But the smile vanished as quickly as it came, and was replaced by a scowl. “Let’s dance.” Draco did not find it suitable for a request, but instead, a command.

She nodded reassuringly to her previous partner, and he complied, walking off the dance floor and disappearing into the crowd. “You know, most men usually asks a woman if they want a dance.” Hermione said, wrapping her arm around Draco’s neck just as his found their way around her waist. “It’s only polite.”

“I’m not in the mood for politeness.” He replied rather irritably. “I’m actually not in the mood for anything you have to say right now.”

Hermione frowned. “Then why are you dancing with me?” she asked him. “If you’re not in the mood for what I have to say, then I suggest you find another dance partner. Miranda, perhaps?”

Impulsively, Draco leaned forward, his lips grazing across her ear. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were jealous.” He whispered tauntingly. A smirk played on his lips as he drew back and settled his eyes on a stunned Hermione Granger.

“Shove off, Malfoy.” She snapped angrily as she attempted to shove his body away from hers. “You really do know how to irritate someone, don’t you?” she sneered, as Draco simply tightened his hold on her, and brought her body closer to his. “It’s as if it’s some special ability that only Malfoy’s possess.”

He smirked wider. “You know what I find amusing, Granger?” he asked her. “The fact that you didn’t even bother to deny that you are jealous.

“I don’t need to deny something as ridiculous as that.” Hermione replied haughtily. “Only you would ever think of something so incredibly stupid.”

“I never thought I would see the day when Granger became jealous.” He said, more to himself than to her. “You barged in on my date with Miranda, and now you’ve brought some random bloke with you, just so you can rub him in my face.”

She scoffed and gave Draco and incredulous look. “You, Malfoy, are really an egotistical asshole. What makes you think that everything revolves around you?”

Draco smirked once more. “Because, my darling. It is all about me after all. Everything you do, everything you think of, always comes back to me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He spun her around, and swiftly pulled her body back into his. “I haven’t thought about you all year.” Hermione bore her eyes into his, glaring sharp daggers in his direction.

Suddenly, Draco’s expression became serious and sullen. Despite the increase in tempo, he—being the lead—slowed down, forcing Hermione to fall into a slow rhythm. His intense gaze prevented Hermione from moving her eyes away from his, no matter how much she wanted to. For that short moment, he captured her entirely; her breath, her heart—her whole soul. Something erupted in between them. It was something much greater than Draco or Hermione, much greater than what they had. And it stayed. It stayed in their souls, unwilling to leave. It left them both breathless. Completely breathless…

“I suppose that is why you didn’t bother writing a single letter.” He whispered softly. “You’ve forgotten about me, haven’t you, Hermione?”

Within the few moments she spent swaying in silence, Hermione could not find an acceptable response that would be able to justify herself in her current situation. Everything had just been so complicated, that she grew tired, and weary, and she could no longer find the will to take a final leap of faith, which would lead her straight into Draco’s arms. She couldn’t understand why it was so difficult—but it was, and that was that.

Through impulse, Hermione did the one thing that only made sense. She dropped her arms to her side, gave Draco one last look, and walked away. Again, she left Draco alone, standing by himself, wondering where he went wrong.

It took him a couple of minutes to realize that he was not going to take silence as an answer again. It solved absolutely nothing, and it simply left one—if not both—parties unsatisfied and irritated. He lived in silence for the past year, and he certainly did not want to continue further into a series of unfinished conversations that composed of several important things that were left unsaid. His eyes immediately scanned the crowd the moment he finalized his decision. There were several brunettes who had hair, which slightly resembled Hermione’s, but none of them was she. He walked over to the bar, but was immediately disappointed when he found each seat filled with a cousin of the groom, and their dates. He weaved through the crowd and began searching through the large, round tables. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Hermione anywhere.

“I saw her heading back inside.” A voice startled Draco, causing him to swiftly turn around, only to find himself face to face with the bride. “Hermione, I mean. I saw her heading back inside not long ago.” There was a knowing smirk on her face, one that would normally annoy Draco to bits. “I think she said something about a bathroom…” Pansy thought aloud, trailing off as she turned to stare towards the back entrance of the large manor.

Draco’s face split into a wide smile. “Thank you.” He swiftly kissed Pansy on the cheek before he bolted for the door.

During his conversation with Pansy, Draco had momentarily forgotten how many bathrooms there were in his house, thus, preventing him from realizing just how difficult it would be to find her. Out of sheer desperation, he summoned a couple of house elves, and ordered a search on all lavatories in the entire house. Once he had finally located her, Draco ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He wasn’t going to let her go. Not this time.

“You sure do have a knack for running away.” He spoke these words before he even stepped onto the tiled floor. “That’s not really something one should make a habit out of.”

Hermione was sitting beside the wide sink on an empty counter. Her ankles were crossed as her legs dangled over the edge. Her hands gripped the edges, keeping her upper-body propped up, as she hunched forward. She remained silent.

“You need to stop running.” He told her sternly. “It won’t do you any good.”

“It’s done me plenty.” She retorted, surprising Draco.

Draco scoffed. “Are you referring to that blonde piece of crap that you’ve brought with you tonight?” he demanded. “That bloke who is, by the way, hitting on Theodore’s younger cousin as we speak? If so, then yes. I’d have to agree with you, Hermione. You’ve done very well for yourself while you were gone. Splendid, really!” His voice, currently dripping with sarcasm and distaste, irritated Hermione. She wanted to knock the angry look right off his face. “What the hell have you been doing?”

“I’ve been having the time of my fucking life, Draco.” She snapped back angrily, jumping off the counter and advancing towards him. “I’ve traveled around the world, I’ve lived in Greece for half a year. I have the most amazing man outside who is crazy about me. I have a legitimate career as an auror, and I have the best friends in the world. I’m having the time of my life, and it’s all because I decided to leave.”

He stared at her with disbelief. “So that’s it, then?” he asked slowly. “That’s why you haven’t been writing at all? You’ve been enjoying your time without me so much, that you don’t want it to end.”

Hermione slowly shrunk back against the counter, and slowly dropped her gaze to the floor upon his words. “Don’t.” she said simply. “Don’t even go there.”

“Why the fuck not?” Draco raged. “I think I should be informed why my fucking fiancé—who, by the way, I loved more than anything in this whole world—couldn’t even find the time to pick up a quill and write a simple letter. You wrote to Blaise, to Harry, to Ron, to Pansy. Why not me?” he demanded. “Why did you talk to everyone but me?” His voice rose with every word that left his lips. It began echoing against the white tiles, blaring against her ears, and tearing through her chest. “Tell me why!” Hermione winced. “Did you just take that trip as an opportunity to finally leave me? Is that what this was all about? Was it all a little well thought out trick, so that you would be able to leave? Tell me, Hermione. Tell me the truth!”

“It was too damn hard!” she shouted, having had enough of his assumptions. Words began slipping past her lips like vomit, and she could not stop. “It was just too damn hard to keep away from you! I knew I had to, I couldn’t simply leave and come back after a day. I couldn’t do it! The moment I read your letter, I was so close to jumping off that plane and running back to you. But I couldn’t! You had your responsibilities, and I had my own. If I wrote to you… If I ever wrote back… we wouldn’t be standing here like this.” Her voice turned softer and softer, and slowly, it shrunk to a soft whisper. “We wouldn’t be fighting like this. We would probably be married, dancing together as husband and wife.” She finally found the courage to look at him, and lifted her gaze off the ground. “I’m sorry… I just… I couldn’t. I tried. Believe me, I tried. I tried so hard, but it would have just made this whole ordeal even more difficult for the both of us.”

Draco was at lost for words. There was so much that he wanted to say to her, but no single word in the human language could ever define what he was feeling. He raked though his brain—rummaging through every single word he has learned in the past years of his life—but failed miserably to find one that did it justice. “Running won’t do either of us any good.”

“I didn’t run.” She told him. “Do you honestly believe that I would run from you out of fear? If so, then you don’t know me at all, Draco.” Her voice held a piercing tone of disappointment. “Look at how much you have accomplished. Your father’s company is in the palm of your hands, and there hasn’t been a single shred of scandalous news printed on the Daily Prophet in a year. That’s saying something, don’t you think?”

“We could have made that happen without you leaving.” He replied stubbornly.

She heaved a heavy sigh in response. “Draco, please—let’s not go over this again. I thought that we would have gotten past this by now.”

“You can’t waltz back into my life, after a bloody year, expecting everything to be fine. Because it’s not. Nothing is fine. Sure, our lives look absolutely perfect to the rest of the Wizarding world, but to us, it is a complete disaster.”

“You’re talking as if you are the only one that has been hurting the past year. It’s been hard for me too, Draco. But unlike you, I am willing to try this again. Just let it go—put the past behind you. What’s done is done, and we can’t change anything anymore. I’m here now,” she lifted her eyes, and held his gaze. “Isn’t that enough?”

Draco stared at her for a couple of moments. His shoulders were heaving up and down due to sheer anger, and his lips were pursed into a straight line. “No.” he finally said, once he let out a breath he had no idea he was holding. “That doesn’t change anything. It’s not enough—not nearly enough.”

Without another look, Draco swiftly turned on his heel and headed for the door. The next few moments happen entirely too quickly, that it took Draco a few minutes to allow it all to sink in.

He headed for the door, ignoring the loud sound of heels clicking against the marble floor of the bathroom. As his hand came into contact with the brass doorknob, he felt a sharp pull against his left arm. Within seconds, he was suddenly violently shoved against the door, while his mouth attached to a pair of incredibly tantalizing, soft lips. He tasted strawberries and mint, with a hint of alcohol that Hermione must have consumed earlier that night. Her scent immediately engulfed him, and then he was lost. His hands automatically found their stance on her body, around her neck, in her hair, on her bum, or around her shoulders.

After a year of her absence, he suddenly realized how much he missed her intoxicating scent and her sweet, luscious lips. His hands wound around her bottom, and he hoisted her up, allowing her legs to wrap themselves around his hips. Draco immediately placed her on the counter top, pressing her back against the wall plated with several mirrors. Never once did their lips part. Once their breathing grew erratic and heavy, Draco detached his lips from hers, but was unable to draw his body away.

“This doesn’t change a thing.” He whispered.

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. “Nothing.” She whispered hoarsely.

Taking it as an acceptable answer, Draco immediately dove back into her lips, reminding himself that the following events shall never happen again.



A/N: HI GUYS! let me start off by apologizing ): i know this chapter took EXTREMELY long. school has started, and i barely have time to write these days. there's just too much on my mind, so it's difficult to think of things to write. however, i do try my best. i try to at least write a page a day. but obviously, that didn't really work out. i ended up writing a paragraph a day, or so :P so i'm so very sorry. i think this chapter took about two months to write, since it is now november -_- . but anyway!

so how do you guys like this one? :) hermione is pretty.. assertive, sorta, eh? (: she didn't completely turn into Miranda, if that's what some of you were thinking. i tried my best not to turn her into someone you guys would all end up hating :P but i'm pretty sure some of you are hating on Draco right now! since he's being a little girl, and he won't just be with Hermione. hehe. and i know some of you are hating on me at the moment, because of the last line of this chapter. (; this is the second to last chapter, which means the next chapter will be the FINAL chapter. how do you think it will end? :O i'd like to hear your thoughts and feedback :)

there won't be a preview, and i won't be letting out any hints as to what will happen the next chapter. i will try to keep the update under a month! wish me luck guys.


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