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Grazed Knees by Padfoot_Prongs
Chapter 15 : xv.
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 16

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Say the first thing that
Comes into your head when you see me

Draco stepped out of the fireplace with ease; he was no stranger to the Floo Network.

“Did mum say she was going out?” he asked as his father stepped out behind him.

He heard a familiar laugh, and his heart sunk.  He hurried away before Lucius could respond, and he was about to jump to Hermione’s aid when he noticed that she had genuinely laughed.  The two women were very clearly enjoying one another’s company quite a bit.

“Oh, Draco!” his mother exclaimed, and he smiled as he watched Hermione quickly turn in her seat.

He lost his composure for a moment as he saw her beautiful, excited face, and it still surprised him sometimes that she could do this to him, break him down faster than anyone.  She looked torn between leaping over to him and remaining politely by Narcissa’s side, and so he eased her dilemma, going over to her with a smile.

“I hope you’re being charming, mother,” he murmured before placing a light kiss on Hermione’s cheek.

“Charming,” Narcissa laughed, “Of course, darling.  Where’s your father?”

“Putting your things upstairs.  Has she given you a tour?” he added to Hermione.

When she nodded, he held out a hand.

“Mother, would you mind if I stole Hermione away?”

“Go ahead, dear.  I should start on dinner anyway.  Hermione, a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Hermione smiled, “Thank you.”

Draco led her away after that, entirely shocked at how quickly she’d found her way to his mother.

“How did you manage that?” he wondered as he closed the door to his bedroom.

“I’m not sure honestly.  She took to me almost instantly, and then I must have said something, and she just opened right up.  Where were you?”

“My father needed to settle some last minute things and pick up a few requested items for my mother.  He asked me to come along.”

He cut Hermione off before she could respond, however, bringing his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss.  Hermione sighed into him, and he groaned as she brought her fingers through his white blonde hair.  It changed there, in an instant, and their movements turned frantic and lustful.  Draco touched his tongue to Hermione’s bottom lip, requesting entrance, and she slowly allowed him, a tremble running through her, tingling her fingers and toes, sending her stomach bouncing in flutters, and setting her heart beating fast and hard.  She felt faint, and Draco suddenly drew back, sucking in a long breath.

She missed the cool feel of his lips almost immediately, though she smiled contently as she felt his nose brush her chin, nudging her head back.  He left wet butterfly kisses over her neck, warming Hermione to her very core.

“Draco,” she whispered, and his mouth was back on hers instantly, hungry and softly demanding.

She kissed him back passionately, drawing herself closer to him, and she let one of her hands rake through his hair, her finger turning circles on the nape of his neck, tickling the feather-soft hair.  He moaned into her mouth, and she responded with a sigh, molding against him as he dipped his hands underneath her shirt, pressing against her lower back, fingers flexing on her skin, tightening in want.

She continued her circles until Draco suddenly broke away, one hand flying back to snatch her wrist up.

“You’re driving me insane,” he gasped, forehead falling against hers and grey eyes slipping shut as he dropped her wrist back to his shoulder, “I only have so much self control, Hermione.”

She smiled at this, leaning up to kiss his swollen lips softly.

“I love you,” she whispered, and his beam was wide.

“I love you, too,” he returned before kissing her nose and stepping back, “I’m going to run to the bathroom.  I’ll be right back.”

He left her with a peck on the cheek, and Hermione distantly heard the sink run as she went to sit on Draco’s bed.  Blood flushed in her cheeks, making them rosy, and her heart refused to slow.

Draco returned after a few minutes to find Hermione perusing his bookshelf.

“Dinner is in an hour,” he informed, going over to her, slipping his arms around her, and resting his chin on her shoulder.

They stayed there a while before Hermione finally got the courage to speak, “Draco,” she whispered, meshing her fingers with his, “I’m not a virgin.”

Draco blinked.

The thought, the possibility had never before crossed his mind.  She was Hermione; he’d always pictured her as pure.

“We didn’t date long,” she explained, “Just two summers.  But it was before my sixth year.  I knew things were changing, I knew I had to let him go, and I knew that I wouldn’t be returning the next summer.  I thought I loved him, and I wanted him to know before I never saw him again.  I just wanted you to know,” she added softly.

He sighed, releasing her.

“Hermione,” he murmured as she turned, “I love you.  Nothing will change that.  And besides,” he shrugged, “I’m not either.”

She laughed, “I know that.”

She pushed him lightly and he feigned hurt.

“Oh, do you?” he return, pulling her into his arms and smiling down at her, “And where did you hear such a thing?”

“Pansy practically screamed it to my Defense class fifth year.”

He’d forgotten about that.  He scowled, and she shook her head.  She kissed him again softly, and they spent the next hour lounging on his bed, Hermione wrapped in Draco’s arms, and these were comfortable, just chatting softly and enjoying the touch, the presence, the feel of one another, so close.

They descended the large foyer stairs at seven, and a warm smell wafted in from the kitchen that made Hermione hum hungrily.  Draco laughed at her, squeezing her hand.  It was, however, as they approached the kitchen that he stopped her.

“My father,” he began, cupping her face, “Don’t let him get to you.  Be strong, okay?”

“I’m a big girl, Draco.  I can take care of myself,” she promised, smiling, and he just leaned forward to kiss her temple before taking her hand again and leading her through the kitchen where Narcissa was humming a lullaby to herself and into the dining room.

They sat next to one another, on Lucius’ left, though Draco was quick to take the seat closest to his father after chivalrously pulling out Hermione’s.  Narcissa entered with a line of house elves behind her, each carrying something, and Hermione smiled as she set down the food.

A large bowl came first with red-skin potatoes cut in fours, sautéed mushrooms, thick squares of green cabbage, and delicious-looking salmon.  Next was a pan of ratatouille, filled with garlic, onions, zucchini, eggplant, green bell peppers, carrots, basil, and thyme.  Finally came a bowl of mixed fruits, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, apple slices, red and green grapes, and tangerines.  Hermione could barely believe her eyes.

Dinner went on smoothly.  Narcissa and Draco carried most off the conversation while Lucius ate in silence, occasionally glancing over at Hermione.  His expression was blank mostly, though Hermione felt greatly intimidated by him.  While it was no longer out of fear, she wanted Draco’s parents to accept her.  Elves cleaned away the table when they’d finished while another brought out banana and chocolate crêpes.  By eight thirty, Draco was retreating into his study, Hermione at his side.

“Your father hates me,” Hermione whispered as Draco closed the door.

“If he hated you, he would have made it known.  He’s just uncomfortable.”

“Then why is your mother so accepting?”

“Hermione, it’s difficult,” he sighed, “When my Aunt Andromeda welcomed her sister back into her heart, it opened her.  Trust me, the only memories I have of my mother being like this was long, long ago, before Hogwarts.  She started to slip away when I was twelve.  It’s good to have her back, though.  Did you,” he paused, frowning and looking away from her, “Did you mention Andromeda earlier?”

Hermione nodded instantly, thinking back to the change in Narcissa’s face she’d noticed.

“That’s why she likes you because you acknowledged their relationship, and I’m sure you said something else along those lines.”

“She was saying how she missed having family dinners in the dining room.  I said that maybe it could happen again someday now that things are different.”

They were standing a few feet apart, something that bothered Hermione immensely.  She watched Draco closely, trying to read his expression, but his walls were up, hiding his heart.  He flicked his grey eyes up as she spoke, though, and, try as she might, she couldn’t read his eyes, either.  He smiled in response, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he was still guarded.

“Will you read to me?” she asked after a moment of silence.

He nodded, and he was by her side in a flash, slipping his hand through hers and leading her along the walls.  He seemed to be searching for something in particular and, when he stopped with a soft noise, Hermione smiled.  She hadn’t read it.

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy,” he recited, showing her the cover, “It was just published in June.  I’ve already read it once, though it’s quite good, and I think you’ll like it.  It’s nothing like Atonement, though, and it certainly isn’t a romance like that is.”

“It’ll be a nice change,” Hermione murmured, pulling him toward one of the couches.

He just smiled, and, this time, every ounce of joy backed it.


August eighteenth.

Thunder rumbled angrily behind the black clouds as rain fell in torrents around the running couple.  Hermione yelped, nearly falling, but Draco quickly caught her elbow and pulled her back up, and they finally reached the sun room, bursting through the glass walls.  They hurried away as lighting cracked the sky, lighting up the darkened world around them.  Draco quickly pulled her toward the porch, and they hurried inside.

Why didn’t we apparate?” Hermione scoffed as they quickly went down the hallway and into the dining room.

“You can’t apparate within these walls.  It’s like Hogwarts.  You were the one who said the black clouds were fine.”

“It was just a little thunder!” Hermione exclaimed, hitting him as he smiled over his shoulder at her.

They reached the kitchen, skirted through it, and jogged up the stairs toward Draco’s room, sopping wet 

“Thunder, yea,” he laughed, “And then, out of nowhere,” he mocked, “we were being drowned.”

“Okay, it totally just started raining like that all of a sudden,” she shot back, “It wasn’t like that before.”

“You know I love you, right?” he chuckled, opening his door, “I’m taking a shower.  I’m freezing now thanks to all that running in the rain.”

“Oh, please,” Hermione rolled her eyes, following him inside, “It wasn’t that bad.  It was actually kind of run,” she added, dropping her shoes by the door.

Hermione looked up, but stopped in her tracks as Draco tugged his shirt off, his back to her.  He went to his dresser to find a change of clothes, dropping the wet shirt on the floor next to it.  She stared at him, soaking in the clearly defined muscles that moved as he searched, the pale, softest-looking skin that she could let her eyes rake down to the waist of his jeans, which hung low on his hips, pulled toward the ground because of how wet they were.

“Hermione,” his voice suddenly cut through her gaze, and she shook her head, blushing furiously.

Draco’s infamous smirk lit up his face as he curled a finger under her chin, lifting her face, and his lips met hers in a rather forceful and heated kiss.  Hermione slipped her arms around his waist, relishing in the feel of his smooth and bare back under her fingertips, and she brought them together lustfully.

He drank her in, tongue dancing against hers as she opened to him, and Hermione moaned as his hands travelled up her back, exploring and touching softly.  He let his fingers slip under the clasp of her bra, and Hermione pulled back, waiting for his eyes to open.  They were dark, the ghostly feel of them gone, and his chest rose and fell quickly, and Hermione nodded, crashing her lips against his again.

She gasped a little as the clasp snapped, dangling uselessly, and Draco separated from her, hands flying to the hem of her shirt.  He pulled it off, slipped the straps down off her shoulders, and Hermione moaned again as their bodies met, soft on soft, skin on skin.

“Draco,” she murmured, heart racing, “Draco, I want this.”

She let out a noise of surprise as he bent and swept her off her feet, bringing her to the bed.  He crawled after her, lips trailing over her bare stomach, the small dip between her breasts, up her neck, and finally he met her waiting mouth, his hips locking against hers, and Hermione wanted nothing more but to feel all of him, to show him all of her.

“Draco,” she gasped, and he smiled against her neck before pushing himself up onto his knees, separated on either side of her, and he undid the button on her shorts, looking once up at her.

She nodded, smiled, and they loved.


Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling.  Lyrics from Wow belong to Snow Patrol.

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