1 one-shot: Draco/Hermione
May. 31st, 2007 08:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amorphousTitle: Celled Guilt
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, swearing
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am merely borrowing from Rowling.
Authors Notes/Beta Credits: A thousand thanks to my beta bunny![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
curious_wolf. She's fabulous, quick, and amazing and really came through for me when I signed up for to be a back-up writer.
kt_dionys, I hope you enjoy this!
Summary: She didn't know what to say, the words that had formed in the back of her throat refused to come out...
She didn't know what to say, the words that had formed in the back of her throat refused to come out.
"It's okay. You're okay," someone whispered from her left side.
"Hermione say something," someone else whispered from the other side. A female. The first had been male, but the second was a female's voice.
"She's traumatized," yet another person spoke up.
"I am not," finally escaped from her lips. Hermione swung around and looked at the third person who spoke, Draco Malfoy. "I am not traumatized."
He smirked at her. His beautiful face looking back at her framed by white blond hair that was just a tad bit too long. His silver eyes were glowing with affection and pride as he said, "Good."
"I'm stronger than you think I am," she retorted, a soft smile breaking as her mouth curved upward automatically.
"I know," he whispered. He closed the short distance between them and cupped her face in his hands. "You're stronger than you think you are."
Their gaze was intense. Feelings that had built within the past months with him came boiling up to the surface, making it hard for her to look away. One of the other people in the room cleared their throat, obviously uncomfortable by the moment. Draco pulled away, glancing at the person. "She's fine," he said confidently.
She glanced past Draco and saw Ron and Tonks were also in the room. Bill was standing near the door, looking as though he was acting as the guard or look-out.
"I'm fine," she assured them, her voice stronger than she felt.
Ron walked over to her quickly, sliding in front of Draco while casting him a dark look. He embraced Hermione quickly. She hugged him back. "I'm fine," she whispered in his ear as the memories start to flood back in a wave of emotion and hate.
"I know. I know you are," he told her, rubbing her back awkwardly.
"How's Harry?" she asked, wanting to know what she had missed.
"He's fine. Back at headquarters, I'm sure," Draco answered with mild dislike in his voice.
"Everyone else?"
Silence fell over the group telling her someone, at least one person, wasn't all right.
---
Four Days Earlier
Hermione pulled her cloak tighter as the wind picked up. "When is this going to be over?"
Draco chuckled darkly beside her. "When the war is and that's not going to be soon."
She rolled her eyes, craning her neck to see over the hill. "Shit. They aren't coming this way. They are going the opposite way."
The Death Eaters they were supposed to be watching, and following, were walking farther away from them, their movements slow and deliberate. They were confident they would achieve their goal -- they were going to kill the Smiths.
Draco swore beside her, starting to run after them.
"Draco!" she tried to call him back, not daring to allow her voice to go above a hiss.
He turned back to her. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"
His grey eyes were crazed. He feared those Death Eaters, but he feared not completing the mission more. He wanted to protect the Smiths if he could, and she knew, he was willing to do anything in his power to achieve that.
"The Smiths house is behind us. They have to come this way. We should just wait here," Hermione tried to reason with him.
"What if they got new orders?"
"We know they haven't; you know they haven't," she reiterated, emphasizing that he knew. He was their leak inside the Death Eaters. He was a spy. He knew more than he let on -- he told her that. During their whispers as they waited, hunted, and become predators for the Death Eaters, his supposed allies.
"I wasn't there this morning, perhaps the Dark Lord changed plans," Draco tried, glancing back to the Death Eaters. "I can still see them."
"The Smiths are dangerous to him, he wouldn't change his plans overnight," Hermione whispered, the wind whipping her hair in her face.
"Yeah..." he trailed off, glancing one last time at the Death Eaters then turning back to her. "Fine. We stay -- for now," he added. He took his place seated behind her.
He was stiff, on edge. He seemed crazed still, hell-bent on succeeding in their mission and stopping the Death Eaters.
The minutes ticked by slowly.
"They're coming back," Hermione hissed to him when the Death Eaters turned back around and started to walk towards them.
"Good," Draco said, a sigh of relief seemed to escape.
Hermione glanced back at the Smith residence. The rooms were all dark. They had told the Smiths to leave two hours before, it was the only way they could be sure to protect them. She wondered if it was a good idea seeing that it might seem suspicious to the Death Eaters.
"They're fine," Draco's voice came from beside her. "They are safe; we aren't."
The attack was swift and painful, making Hermione fall to her knees from the agony. Before passing out, she saw Draco fall as well.
----
Two Days Later
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, the light painful. "Where am I?" she whispered. Her head throbbed; her body ached in pure torture before she even attempted to move.
"Hermione!" Someone called from beside her in the room. A figure knelt beside her, but she couldn't make out who it was with the contrasting shadows that fell over their face, hiding their identity. "Fuck, Hermione." She recognized the voice. It was Draco Malfoy.
"Draco?" She tried to sit up, but the pain was agonizing, making it impossible for her to move.
"Lay still," he tried to soothe her, gentling pushing her shoulders back. He pushed a few stray hairs away from her forehead.
"Where am I?" she asked again, trying to look around herself from her position on her back.
"You're in a cell."
"Right, but where?"
"I don't know honestly. Fuck Hermione, I'm sorry." The apology was abrupt. She tried to focus on his eyes, but she couldn't find them in the shadows.
"For what?" she asked, feeling confused.
"For getting you in this mess... They found out. They found me out. Fuck. I'm sorry; I wasn't as convincing a spy as we thought. They were waiting at the Smiths for me... for us. They ambushed us then captured us. I'm so fucking sorry."
She braved the pain and reached up to touch the side of his face. "It's not your fault. Snape?"
"Still a spy. A better one than I was apparently."
"He's had more practice," she whispered, dropping her hand.
"You've been out two days."
"I have? What about you?"
"I came to as we were being brought it. I'm almost positive we are being kept at the South Hamphire place. I could be wrong though. Fuck."
"Can we escape?"
"No. At least not easily."
"Then it doesn't matter where we are. We are stuck here for the duration." Her voice felt falsely strong, but it just seemed feeble to her own ears. She was weak, in pain, and scared. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand. She wanted his warmth, his strength. She wanted him.
He held her hand tightly, leaning back against the wall beside her. "The pain will subside, I promise."
She closed her eyes, relishing in his touch. The moments crept by slowly; soon Hermione felt lost in time, unable to tell if she had been conscious for minutes, hours, or days. All she knew was that his hand stayed in hers. It was a constant. A strange constant, bearing their history, but a welcome one.
Food was given to them, but the pain kept her from knowing where it had come from precisely. She ate slowly, being fed mostly by Draco. He was guilt-ridden and seemed broken, like he had completely lost his way. He was never the most together man, but the days in the cell seemed to solidify the fact in his mind, and it turned endearing, drawing her to him emotionally.
Their talk filled empty moments and silence. It was mostly banter and rambling, but it kept them sane and they both knew it. Every once in a while a serious topic would emerge, like war strategy or an impossible plan for escaping. The topic always stopped suddenly and left them both lost in their own thoughts.
"Merlin, it's been three days!" Draco exclaimed suddenly. "Do you feel any better?"
Hermione took a quick stock of her body. The pain was definitely subsiding, but not completely gone. Slowly, carefully, and painfully, Draco watched in horror as she sat up and leaned against the wall, a triumphant smile on her face.
"I'll take that as a yes." He reached over and brushed some of her hair from her face. "But I can still see the pain it caused you."
She nodded. "It's not bad though."
He smiled at her softly. It was strange to see the smile while they were still captive like they were. His grey eyes were still shining back with a brokenness that tore at her heart. He still felt so guilty. "Good."
She could finally see her cell properly. It was small, not more then ten square feet. "Fuck," she muttered. She brought her hand to her mouth suddenly, realizing she had uttered her curse out loud, mimicking Draco's favorite word. "Sorry."
He shrugged. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes, trying to relax.
The only door was right in front of them, she couldn't tear her eyes away from it.
"You can't will it to open," Draco said suddenly from beside her.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, feeling herself going red. "Right."
He reached out and grabbed her hand again. She squeezed it in return, glancing over to look at him. She followed his lead and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.
The noises were suddenly, filling the peace completely. Her eyes snapped over and she watched in silence as the door burst open loudly and two masked Death Eaters walked in. Their stride was confident and angry; their foot steps echoing in the room.
"The girl's sitting up," one of the said in a harsh voice.
"Good. The Dark Lord wanted to see her," the other said. He seemed to be in charge. The first Death Eater grabbed Hermione and pulled her roughly to her feet. She was too weak to resist.
"What the hell does he want with her? She's just a Mudblood!" Draco spat from his place on the floor. The words stung. She had thought that in their time together he had began to see her as someone else. Someone he might eventually care for perhaps. But instead the vile words came from his mouth the moment they could be used to his advantage and he sat there, not protecting her and not caring except that she was below him.
"He wants to talk to her. You're next, boy," the second man said, hitting Draco and making him double over.
Her heart jumped in her throat when she saw Draco in pain. "Draco."
"I'm fine," he said, straightening up, though he still clutched his stomach. "That's all you got?" he mocked the man. The Death Eater kicked him again.
"Stop," Hermione whispered, unable to suppress her plea despite the hurt his words had caused. She was his only ally, even if it was only when they were left alone.
"Come on girl," the Death Eater pulled her out of the room.
----
Present
"How'd you get out Draco?" Hermione asked. She remembered Draco coming for her, but she didn't know how he got out.
"Death Eaters are stupid, Hermione, you know that." His voice was arrogant, but his eyes showed that it hadn't been as easy as he wanted her to belief.
"They beat you."
"They almost killed you," Draco retorted. His eyes were steel -- hard and unforgiving.
"Right," she muttered, moving around Ron and standing in front of Draco. "What happened?"
"Same old story. I escaped to find the Order had infiltrated. I followed the Death Eater who had you outside, where you going to be killed--"
"I thought they said Voldemort wanted to talk to me?"
"Death Eaters lie. They were killed. You were free. They had treated you with some potion though, before I got there. I thought it had been a poison at first, but you weren't dead." He shrugged again. He was trying hard to be nonchalant, like he hadn't been scared. But he was. He was terrified of something.
"So who... didn't make it?" she asked.
"Snape died. He was the one that lead the Order there," Draco told her, his voice hard, hurt.
"Fuck," she muttered. She felt herself smiling despite the horrible news at the memory that was Draco's favorite word. "Sorry. Again."
"You're safe though. They had just given you a potion to make you immobile, so you wouldn't run. It wore off and you're fine," Ron spoke up from behind her.
She turned toward him. "Good. But can I go lay down?"
"I'll take you to an empty bedroom," Draco offered before anyone else could speak up.
She nodded. Slowly, with all three sets of eyes following them, they walked into the hallway. She didn't give into the urge to talk until they were half way down the hall. "Draco, what didn't you tell me in there?"
He stopped; when she continued to walk, he reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her. She turned slowly to look at him. "What?"
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "It's not your fault we were caught."
"No, I don't mean that. I am sorry for that, though. I mean I'm sorry for what I said. In the cell. To the Death Eaters."
"Oh. For calling me a Mudblood again," she whispered sadly. The memory still hurt. She had thought they had grown to be something more, yet they hadn't. He had been so full of hate.
"I didn't mean it." His grey eyes grabbed hers and he looked at her with sincerity and affection. "I just thought... I don't know what I thought. I just thought that perhaps I could convince them not to take you."
His explanation was lame, but she reached out and touched his face gently. "What? Were you trying to protect me?"
"In my own way, yeah. I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "Then no need to apologize."
"Okay."
They began to walk again albeit more slowly. He reached out again and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. It felt familiar now: his touch.
He opened the door to a bedroom down the hall and led her inside. "You can rest in here."
"Thank you."
They didn't let go of each others hands though. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was gently, timid, a mere brushing of her lips against his.
He let go of her hand the moment their lips met and she jerked away, hating herself. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back, claiming her mouth with his own possessively. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to allow his tongue entrance. She wanted him; she craved him.
He pushed the bottom of her shirt upward and she allowed him, cupping the back of her neck to bring his mouth closer. His hands slid beneath her shirt and skimmed her back, making her shiver with his warmth. Unclasping her bra, he moved to kiss down her neck. She angled her neck to him better access. "God," she moaned.
He pulled back; his grey eyes meeting her brown ones instinctively. They were a darker grey with his passion and desire. She shoved him against the back of the door, slamming it shut loudly with the weight of his body. He laughed huskily before pulling her shirt off her. She pushed off her bra, and then lifted his shirt to start to disrobe him.
He kissed the pulse in her throat before creating a path of light kisses to her breast. She opened his pants and shoved them down urgently. She wanted to kill him inside her, she needed him inside her. He stopped his teasing and began to help her fully undress himself. Once he was naked, they turned their attention to her and rid her of her pants and knickers quickly.
Pushing him back against the door again, she eased herself onto his erection. He filled her completely in their standing position. His thrusts were rapid and hard, trying to get her to reach her climax before allowing himself his own. He reached between their bodies and found her sensitive spot; he began to rub her bundle of nerves slowly then increased the pace as she moaned.
The pleasure was overwhelming. The ecstasy crashed into her suddenly and she cried out his name, not caring who heard. He came inside her as soon as she cried out his name. She leaned limply against him, the pleasure having taken what little strength she had.
He carried her to the bed and laid her down. She was exhausted. "Fuck," she whispered.
He laughed. She wasn't sure why, but he did. Climbing into bed beside her, he pulled her into his arms and covered them with a blanket.
"Hermione?" he whispered into her ear.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes and ignored him. She didn't care if he was guilt-ridden; she loved him for it though, because it meant he did care about her. He did love her.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, swearing
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am merely borrowing from Rowling.
Authors Notes/Beta Credits: A thousand thanks to my beta bunny
curious_wolf. She's fabulous, quick, and amazing and really came through for me when I signed up for to be a back-up writer.kt_dionys, I hope you enjoy this!Summary: She didn't know what to say, the words that had formed in the back of her throat refused to come out...
She didn't know what to say, the words that had formed in the back of her throat refused to come out.
"It's okay. You're okay," someone whispered from her left side.
"Hermione say something," someone else whispered from the other side. A female. The first had been male, but the second was a female's voice.
"She's traumatized," yet another person spoke up.
"I am not," finally escaped from her lips. Hermione swung around and looked at the third person who spoke, Draco Malfoy. "I am not traumatized."
He smirked at her. His beautiful face looking back at her framed by white blond hair that was just a tad bit too long. His silver eyes were glowing with affection and pride as he said, "Good."
"I'm stronger than you think I am," she retorted, a soft smile breaking as her mouth curved upward automatically.
"I know," he whispered. He closed the short distance between them and cupped her face in his hands. "You're stronger than you think you are."
Their gaze was intense. Feelings that had built within the past months with him came boiling up to the surface, making it hard for her to look away. One of the other people in the room cleared their throat, obviously uncomfortable by the moment. Draco pulled away, glancing at the person. "She's fine," he said confidently.
She glanced past Draco and saw Ron and Tonks were also in the room. Bill was standing near the door, looking as though he was acting as the guard or look-out.
"I'm fine," she assured them, her voice stronger than she felt.
Ron walked over to her quickly, sliding in front of Draco while casting him a dark look. He embraced Hermione quickly. She hugged him back. "I'm fine," she whispered in his ear as the memories start to flood back in a wave of emotion and hate.
"I know. I know you are," he told her, rubbing her back awkwardly.
"How's Harry?" she asked, wanting to know what she had missed.
"He's fine. Back at headquarters, I'm sure," Draco answered with mild dislike in his voice.
"Everyone else?"
Silence fell over the group telling her someone, at least one person, wasn't all right.
---
Four Days Earlier
Hermione pulled her cloak tighter as the wind picked up. "When is this going to be over?"
Draco chuckled darkly beside her. "When the war is and that's not going to be soon."
She rolled her eyes, craning her neck to see over the hill. "Shit. They aren't coming this way. They are going the opposite way."
The Death Eaters they were supposed to be watching, and following, were walking farther away from them, their movements slow and deliberate. They were confident they would achieve their goal -- they were going to kill the Smiths.
Draco swore beside her, starting to run after them.
"Draco!" she tried to call him back, not daring to allow her voice to go above a hiss.
He turned back to her. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"
His grey eyes were crazed. He feared those Death Eaters, but he feared not completing the mission more. He wanted to protect the Smiths if he could, and she knew, he was willing to do anything in his power to achieve that.
"The Smiths house is behind us. They have to come this way. We should just wait here," Hermione tried to reason with him.
"What if they got new orders?"
"We know they haven't; you know they haven't," she reiterated, emphasizing that he knew. He was their leak inside the Death Eaters. He was a spy. He knew more than he let on -- he told her that. During their whispers as they waited, hunted, and become predators for the Death Eaters, his supposed allies.
"I wasn't there this morning, perhaps the Dark Lord changed plans," Draco tried, glancing back to the Death Eaters. "I can still see them."
"The Smiths are dangerous to him, he wouldn't change his plans overnight," Hermione whispered, the wind whipping her hair in her face.
"Yeah..." he trailed off, glancing one last time at the Death Eaters then turning back to her. "Fine. We stay -- for now," he added. He took his place seated behind her.
He was stiff, on edge. He seemed crazed still, hell-bent on succeeding in their mission and stopping the Death Eaters.
The minutes ticked by slowly.
"They're coming back," Hermione hissed to him when the Death Eaters turned back around and started to walk towards them.
"Good," Draco said, a sigh of relief seemed to escape.
Hermione glanced back at the Smith residence. The rooms were all dark. They had told the Smiths to leave two hours before, it was the only way they could be sure to protect them. She wondered if it was a good idea seeing that it might seem suspicious to the Death Eaters.
"They're fine," Draco's voice came from beside her. "They are safe; we aren't."
The attack was swift and painful, making Hermione fall to her knees from the agony. Before passing out, she saw Draco fall as well.
----
Two Days Later
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, the light painful. "Where am I?" she whispered. Her head throbbed; her body ached in pure torture before she even attempted to move.
"Hermione!" Someone called from beside her in the room. A figure knelt beside her, but she couldn't make out who it was with the contrasting shadows that fell over their face, hiding their identity. "Fuck, Hermione." She recognized the voice. It was Draco Malfoy.
"Draco?" She tried to sit up, but the pain was agonizing, making it impossible for her to move.
"Lay still," he tried to soothe her, gentling pushing her shoulders back. He pushed a few stray hairs away from her forehead.
"Where am I?" she asked again, trying to look around herself from her position on her back.
"You're in a cell."
"Right, but where?"
"I don't know honestly. Fuck Hermione, I'm sorry." The apology was abrupt. She tried to focus on his eyes, but she couldn't find them in the shadows.
"For what?" she asked, feeling confused.
"For getting you in this mess... They found out. They found me out. Fuck. I'm sorry; I wasn't as convincing a spy as we thought. They were waiting at the Smiths for me... for us. They ambushed us then captured us. I'm so fucking sorry."
She braved the pain and reached up to touch the side of his face. "It's not your fault. Snape?"
"Still a spy. A better one than I was apparently."
"He's had more practice," she whispered, dropping her hand.
"You've been out two days."
"I have? What about you?"
"I came to as we were being brought it. I'm almost positive we are being kept at the South Hamphire place. I could be wrong though. Fuck."
"Can we escape?"
"No. At least not easily."
"Then it doesn't matter where we are. We are stuck here for the duration." Her voice felt falsely strong, but it just seemed feeble to her own ears. She was weak, in pain, and scared. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand. She wanted his warmth, his strength. She wanted him.
He held her hand tightly, leaning back against the wall beside her. "The pain will subside, I promise."
She closed her eyes, relishing in his touch. The moments crept by slowly; soon Hermione felt lost in time, unable to tell if she had been conscious for minutes, hours, or days. All she knew was that his hand stayed in hers. It was a constant. A strange constant, bearing their history, but a welcome one.
Food was given to them, but the pain kept her from knowing where it had come from precisely. She ate slowly, being fed mostly by Draco. He was guilt-ridden and seemed broken, like he had completely lost his way. He was never the most together man, but the days in the cell seemed to solidify the fact in his mind, and it turned endearing, drawing her to him emotionally.
Their talk filled empty moments and silence. It was mostly banter and rambling, but it kept them sane and they both knew it. Every once in a while a serious topic would emerge, like war strategy or an impossible plan for escaping. The topic always stopped suddenly and left them both lost in their own thoughts.
"Merlin, it's been three days!" Draco exclaimed suddenly. "Do you feel any better?"
Hermione took a quick stock of her body. The pain was definitely subsiding, but not completely gone. Slowly, carefully, and painfully, Draco watched in horror as she sat up and leaned against the wall, a triumphant smile on her face.
"I'll take that as a yes." He reached over and brushed some of her hair from her face. "But I can still see the pain it caused you."
She nodded. "It's not bad though."
He smiled at her softly. It was strange to see the smile while they were still captive like they were. His grey eyes were still shining back with a brokenness that tore at her heart. He still felt so guilty. "Good."
She could finally see her cell properly. It was small, not more then ten square feet. "Fuck," she muttered. She brought her hand to her mouth suddenly, realizing she had uttered her curse out loud, mimicking Draco's favorite word. "Sorry."
He shrugged. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes, trying to relax.
The only door was right in front of them, she couldn't tear her eyes away from it.
"You can't will it to open," Draco said suddenly from beside her.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, feeling herself going red. "Right."
He reached out and grabbed her hand again. She squeezed it in return, glancing over to look at him. She followed his lead and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.
The noises were suddenly, filling the peace completely. Her eyes snapped over and she watched in silence as the door burst open loudly and two masked Death Eaters walked in. Their stride was confident and angry; their foot steps echoing in the room.
"The girl's sitting up," one of the said in a harsh voice.
"Good. The Dark Lord wanted to see her," the other said. He seemed to be in charge. The first Death Eater grabbed Hermione and pulled her roughly to her feet. She was too weak to resist.
"What the hell does he want with her? She's just a Mudblood!" Draco spat from his place on the floor. The words stung. She had thought that in their time together he had began to see her as someone else. Someone he might eventually care for perhaps. But instead the vile words came from his mouth the moment they could be used to his advantage and he sat there, not protecting her and not caring except that she was below him.
"He wants to talk to her. You're next, boy," the second man said, hitting Draco and making him double over.
Her heart jumped in her throat when she saw Draco in pain. "Draco."
"I'm fine," he said, straightening up, though he still clutched his stomach. "That's all you got?" he mocked the man. The Death Eater kicked him again.
"Stop," Hermione whispered, unable to suppress her plea despite the hurt his words had caused. She was his only ally, even if it was only when they were left alone.
"Come on girl," the Death Eater pulled her out of the room.
----
Present
"How'd you get out Draco?" Hermione asked. She remembered Draco coming for her, but she didn't know how he got out.
"Death Eaters are stupid, Hermione, you know that." His voice was arrogant, but his eyes showed that it hadn't been as easy as he wanted her to belief.
"They beat you."
"They almost killed you," Draco retorted. His eyes were steel -- hard and unforgiving.
"Right," she muttered, moving around Ron and standing in front of Draco. "What happened?"
"Same old story. I escaped to find the Order had infiltrated. I followed the Death Eater who had you outside, where you going to be killed--"
"I thought they said Voldemort wanted to talk to me?"
"Death Eaters lie. They were killed. You were free. They had treated you with some potion though, before I got there. I thought it had been a poison at first, but you weren't dead." He shrugged again. He was trying hard to be nonchalant, like he hadn't been scared. But he was. He was terrified of something.
"So who... didn't make it?" she asked.
"Snape died. He was the one that lead the Order there," Draco told her, his voice hard, hurt.
"Fuck," she muttered. She felt herself smiling despite the horrible news at the memory that was Draco's favorite word. "Sorry. Again."
"You're safe though. They had just given you a potion to make you immobile, so you wouldn't run. It wore off and you're fine," Ron spoke up from behind her.
She turned toward him. "Good. But can I go lay down?"
"I'll take you to an empty bedroom," Draco offered before anyone else could speak up.
She nodded. Slowly, with all three sets of eyes following them, they walked into the hallway. She didn't give into the urge to talk until they were half way down the hall. "Draco, what didn't you tell me in there?"
He stopped; when she continued to walk, he reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her. She turned slowly to look at him. "What?"
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "It's not your fault we were caught."
"No, I don't mean that. I am sorry for that, though. I mean I'm sorry for what I said. In the cell. To the Death Eaters."
"Oh. For calling me a Mudblood again," she whispered sadly. The memory still hurt. She had thought they had grown to be something more, yet they hadn't. He had been so full of hate.
"I didn't mean it." His grey eyes grabbed hers and he looked at her with sincerity and affection. "I just thought... I don't know what I thought. I just thought that perhaps I could convince them not to take you."
His explanation was lame, but she reached out and touched his face gently. "What? Were you trying to protect me?"
"In my own way, yeah. I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "Then no need to apologize."
"Okay."
They began to walk again albeit more slowly. He reached out again and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. It felt familiar now: his touch.
He opened the door to a bedroom down the hall and led her inside. "You can rest in here."
"Thank you."
They didn't let go of each others hands though. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was gently, timid, a mere brushing of her lips against his.
He let go of her hand the moment their lips met and she jerked away, hating herself. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back, claiming her mouth with his own possessively. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to allow his tongue entrance. She wanted him; she craved him.
He pushed the bottom of her shirt upward and she allowed him, cupping the back of her neck to bring his mouth closer. His hands slid beneath her shirt and skimmed her back, making her shiver with his warmth. Unclasping her bra, he moved to kiss down her neck. She angled her neck to him better access. "God," she moaned.
He pulled back; his grey eyes meeting her brown ones instinctively. They were a darker grey with his passion and desire. She shoved him against the back of the door, slamming it shut loudly with the weight of his body. He laughed huskily before pulling her shirt off her. She pushed off her bra, and then lifted his shirt to start to disrobe him.
He kissed the pulse in her throat before creating a path of light kisses to her breast. She opened his pants and shoved them down urgently. She wanted to kill him inside her, she needed him inside her. He stopped his teasing and began to help her fully undress himself. Once he was naked, they turned their attention to her and rid her of her pants and knickers quickly.
Pushing him back against the door again, she eased herself onto his erection. He filled her completely in their standing position. His thrusts were rapid and hard, trying to get her to reach her climax before allowing himself his own. He reached between their bodies and found her sensitive spot; he began to rub her bundle of nerves slowly then increased the pace as she moaned.
The pleasure was overwhelming. The ecstasy crashed into her suddenly and she cried out his name, not caring who heard. He came inside her as soon as she cried out his name. She leaned limply against him, the pleasure having taken what little strength she had.
He carried her to the bed and laid her down. She was exhausted. "Fuck," she whispered.
He laughed. She wasn't sure why, but he did. Climbing into bed beside her, he pulled her into his arms and covered them with a blanket.
"Hermione?" he whispered into her ear.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes and ignored him. She didn't care if he was guilt-ridden; she loved him for it though, because it meant he did care about her. He did love her.
