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Jealousy	By : brandnewdaydawning Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 78826 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Hermione was up early as was her wont and had already brewed her tea until it was almost black by the time Ginny stumbled into the commons. Bleary-eyed and silent she almost snatched the cup Hermione blithely handed her and huddled into a chair to consume her morning caffeine in her usual pre-wakeup haze.
Hermione had organized her notes for the day and gotten a full chapter of her Arithmancy book color coded with Post-It Notes in preparation for her upcoming midterm exam before Ginny had sufficiently perked up enough to check for eavesdroppers before pinning her with a look.
Early morning was the only time a quiet private conversation could be uninterrupted when one lived in Gryffindor tower and she wasn't surprised that Ginny had set an alarm to be up early so they could have a bit of a chin wag. Everyone knew she was a morning person and this wasn't the first break of dawn conference the girl had initiated, though previously the topic had been exclusively about Ginny's on again off again romance with Harry. Having schooled her wild emotions enough to get her first good night's sleep since the breakup, she felt she was on an even enough keel to have this conversation. Plus, she had enough honest things she wanted to talk about that she was pretty sure she could skirt around lies altogether. Ginny might be a year behind her but she was ages ahead when it came to experience with boys. Despite her popularity, Ginny could keep an airtight secret and there really wasn't anyone else she could possibly talk to about this.
Going with the breakup story Colin had unwittingly provided for her would probably be in her best interest as far as salvaging her reputation. Telling Malfoy to shove off because he was being a bigoted ass would be expected, and a move in line with her character. Ron had been alone in the common room waiting for her when she got back, wanting to talk. She had put him off, but was relatively sure she could probably reconcile with him if she chose. Three things made her hesitate to take the gift that had been handed to her in the beautiful shiny paper of satisfaction topped with a big bow of moral superiority.
First, and the most easily reasoned, was that she had an agreement with Malfoy. She might be able to walk away smelling like a rose from the situation, but Malfoy hadn't as of yet accomplished any of his goals. She didn't feel right about ending things before the verbal contract they had made was concluded to both party's satisfaction. She wasn't a user. Especially when Malfoy was such an influential person in his social set. His actions, though selfishly motivated, set the stage for further diplomacy. He may just be a teenager now, but his family was akin to pureblooded royalty.
Secondly, and far more difficult to come to grips with, was how exciting his touch was. She couldn't seem to turn off her brain and quit replaying every kiss, every caress. She had gone to bed with his taste still on her tongue and woke with his ghost grip on her hair. She'd shared a hundred kisses in the preceding month with Ron, a boy she loved, and had had absolutely no problem compartmentalizing her romance time from her schoolwork or other duties. A couple of days in a lip lock with Malfoy and she was literally fixated. She wasn't sure if she wanted to continue to indulge or if she wanted to go back to Ron and figure out how to duplicate that…chemistry…with a boy worthy of her affection.
Lastly, and the most twisted reason in her opinion while at the same time the most compelling, was the startling conclusions she had drawn last night while taking a nice long bath. Working through her problem backwards and seeing things with fresh eyes.
Malfoy had kissed her because he wanted to. All the evidence pointed towards it. It didn't make any sense in her well-ordered world. Self-serving desire to get himself some good press aside, the fact was that Malfoy didn't like her very much and had made that abundantly clear over six years. Yet here they were. Hermione's mind kept twisting it around, trying to find the why of it.
She couldn't let it rest. She never had been one to leave a puzzle unfinished. She wanted to know. Why would he want to kiss her of all people?
So, she'd brewed enough tea in the commons for two and waited for her only girly friend to screw her brain on tight enough to have a conversation. Prepared or not, the peculiar mixture of embarrassment and excitement that churned in her stomach was awful. When Ginny just continued to give her the look, she blurted out what was foremost on her mind to get the conversation rolling. After all she couldn't seem to think of anything else so she might as well lead with the most pressing matter.
"I snogged Malfoy within an inch of his life at greenhouse 8 last night and I think I liked it."
Not her most articulate declarative sentence. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to pontificate an essay based on that drivel!
"So it's true then. You are going out with him?" There was very little accusation in Ginny's voice. She was actually surprisingly gentle with her question.
Hermione dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Right to the heart of the matter swooped Miss Weasley. No matter how softly and delicately phrased it was still a hell of a bombshell question and she and Malfoy hadn't discussed announcing they were a couple. It was way too fast to seem genuine. It was also entirely his fault, if he wasn't pawing her at every opportunity then people wouldn't assume he was her boyfriend.
She decided to stick with her whole tell the truth just not all the truth plan and moaned an "I don't know" between her fingers. Which was true enough. At the last "planning session" they had decided they were going to be working together on a class assignment. Not hearts drawn on parchment, mooning over each other coupledom.
Ginny placed a soothing hand on her back and rubbed it in circles. "Sweetie, I don't understand how this happened. Last week you two were arch enemies. This week you are swapping spit. What on earth happened?"
Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at her very concerned friend. She might have felt guilty yesterday to have been the source of such concern, but today she had genuine angst that needed comforting. Regardless of her twisting of the truth.
"I don't know." She repeated. "I guess at first I wanted to make Ronald jealous. Malfoy right? Guaranteed to get him to sit up and take notice. But it's kind of gotten out of hand and I'm in a little over my head here."
Which was a bitter pill to swallow, but her friend deserved at least a few nuggets of truth.
"That's OK." Ginny said. "Romance is supposed to feel a little overwhelming Hermione. A little scary."
"Are you telling me it's always like this?" Hermione sat all the way up and pushed her hair off her face thinking that through. "Honestly, I feel sick and yet I don't seem to mind. Why would anyone want to feel like this?"
Ginny gave a surprised peal of laughter and a one-armed hug. "Oh girl, sounds like you have it bad."
An hour later she felt refreshed and swept clean.
She hadn't realized how wound up emotionally she had been until she had let it all pour out to Ginny. Nothing had been resolved but just admitting out loud that she was having lustful dirty thoughts to a close friend had lightened her load significantly. However, the most surprising revelation came from Ginny's seeming acceptance of her attraction to Malfoy. Her simple shrug and naughty smile. Her cat got the canary smugness as she stated the obvious. "Well Hermione, what did you expect to happen when you decided to lock lips with such a pretty boy?"
She was a girl after all. Ginny took all her confusion and analyzing and deep reflection and reduced all of it to its simplest terms. Malfoy was pretty. He was six foot two inches of muscle and smirk and smooth skin. Talking to her friend had allowed her to make the decision that she wasn't quitting this until it was resolved. The back and forth, the tug, the on and off again feeling switch had all stopped. Now that she had her mind made up it was easy to tap into that vaunted Gryffindor courage and even enjoy the butterflies dancing around in her tummy.
A tap on the window offered a natural segue to the rest of her day and she couldn't help but smile at the owl that came straight to her when Ginny pushed the glass open. Draco's owl made his way inside and presented his leg so Hermione could undo the cylinder he had been burdened with, barely waiting until it was unbound before exiting in swirl of annoyed feathers. Hermione smiled after him feeling a weird sort of affection for the rude creature. Ginny laughed at her, delighted, and the girls quickly opened the package to see what was inside. There was no letter, just a slide of diamonds that pooled in her palm until she held up one end and she realized it was an exquisite tennis bracelet.
She really shouldn't accept such an extravagant gift. Ginny was making noises about the cost of it, and if she could tell by looking it was probably ridiculously expensive. Still it was beautiful.
She slid it over her wrist, Ginny helping with the delicate clasp and enjoyed the way it fit her just right. Her arm twisted right, then left, as she admired the light catch the pretty stones. She ought to send it back, sans note. But then she would be being difficult just for the sake of being difficult. If she was going to press forward as she had apparently decided to do, then she needed to pick her battles. If Draco was her boyfriend, then he would be giving her gifts. At least this was straight forward manipulation on his part, no cloudy motive to dissect.
She felt much more "herself" when she made her way through the crowds at breakfast and found a spot to eat at the Gryffindor table. She ignored the chatter and deliberately refused to try to decipher if any of it was about her and her torrid "romance" with Hogwarts poster bad boy. She had her own problems. She didn't need to let a dozen different opinions sway her own conclusions. She was good at solving problems specifically because she looked at things objectively. Malfoy was her problem and she would solve him.
Despite her resolve, she felt a certain rush of sadistic pleasure when her bracelet was noticed by Padma and she felt Ron's recoil. She had long ago resigned herself to the secret shameful fact that she had a bit of a vicious streak. She didn't have to fake her smile of genuine delight as she stretched out her arm to display the sparkling gift and reveled in Ron's poorly concealed upset. She also enjoyed Padma's frown. She was far too clever to remain blind to Ron's hostile jealousy over her. Hermione did not think it would be too long before the girl was back to breakfasting with the Ravenclaws.
Malfoy certainly did know how to orchestrate a reaction.
Wearing the gift implied that she enjoyed the perks of having an obscenely wealthy and generous suitor. Anyone who actually knew her well would know she could care less about the status of wearing a fortune of jewels draped over her wrist. She was more affected by the fact that he had somehow selected something that she would personally like. Ron ought to know better. Malfoy was a master at digging at a person's insecurities. Ron ought to see right through it. Instead he let a stupid gift twist his insides and make his blood burn.
Well, good.
She felt him fall into step with her as she parted ways with the boys in the corridor. They branched off for Divination while she made her way to Arithmancy. He was of a height with Harry but everything from the closeness of his body to the weight of his step was different. And disturbingly familiar. He did that thing he does where he dominated her space. Slipping in close and touching his breath to her ear to talk to her low and intimate.
"Did Weasel like your present?"
His index finger brushed the hollow of her throat even as he moved around slightly behind her with the obvious intent to loom. "Maybe we need a bit more. A matching string for this bare throat."
She realized that she had come to a stop in the middle of the corridor. Students parting around them. A stream of humanity going about their business while she stood still. Captured in a moment. She turned her head so she could see him, intensely aware of his position in relation to hers. Tilting her head in such a way that they did not touch but were close enough she could feel the warmth of his lips radiating against her own.
Only a lover would stand this close. And she did feel like a lover. Looking up at him. Aware of his lips and his breath and his touch on her throat. She knew what he would taste like if he bent his head just a fraction. She knew how his hands would feel if they grew bold and caressed her hips. She felt that low down tingle he brought out in her and didn't care if he noticed that her breath had shortened.
She tested her recent theory. The Theory of Want as she was calling it in her own thoughts. She arched her back, just slightly, bringing her shoulders into contact with him, implying surrender. Felt his breath catch, his hand flex against her throat. Did he want to kiss her again? Just how much of this was an act and how much genuine desire? Surely his pupils blown wide as he looked into her eyes was real. Surely his own shortened breaths were not a ploy.
She forced words out of a throat gone tight. "We are going to be late for class."
She rolled up and off him, using her shoulders as a brace, rolling her hips to bring her balance back to center. She didn't shrug him off just used a wave of her body go from leaning to walking that quickly outpaced his touch. She felt him resume motion behind her, using his longer stride to resume his place at her side. His hip bumping with hers as he put his arm around her, pulling her closer without slowing her down.
"Was that flirting?" The low pitch of his voice did not disguise the sharp cutting tone. She tensed. Knowing that he could wield cruelty like a knife and knowing she wouldn't like whatever knee jerk awful thing he would stay that would shove her back in her place. He could flirt. He could set her off balance and play with her mind and her emotions. But he wouldn't like the same treatment. He would want to be in control. "Have you been practicing in the mirror? Trying to learn to be a real girl? Let me tell you princess it came off a little contrived."
She twisted away from him to get through the door of the classroom alone. He was just angry she had gotten a reaction from him that he hadn't planned. Well she was not a piece on a chess board and he could kiss her Gryffindor ass. He gave her less than a handful of seconds to compose herself before he was pulling up a chair right next to her, stretching out his legs, giving her his trademark Malfoy smirk. But it was enough. She was able to get herself on point enough to give him a look of contempt before she pulled her Arithmancy book out and focus on her work so she wouldn't have to look at him. She didn't want him to see the satisfaction in her gaze as his bipolar behavior leant weight to her theory. She finally felt as if she had come out on top after an encounter with Draco Malfoy. Such a rarity was to be savored.
Her day had gone entirely too well. For the first time in a long time she felt in control of her life and her surroundings. She should have known better. Pride goes before the fall and her smugness should have been a warning flag that soon things would crash and burn.
Frustration simmering down low in his gut, Draco spent the afternoon on his broom. He had the house elves bring him dinner and avoided the whole castle scene and moodily waited until most of his housemates would be out before he made his way back to his room. He pushed every single thought of Hermione flipping Granger to the side and refused to pick apart that stupid encounter in the hallway where he had made an ass out of himself.
He was so focused on being in control of his emotions and getting his devil may care outlook back in focus that he had taken two brisk steps into his room, unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked, before his step slowed and his head turned towards his bed. His curtains were drawn. His hand fell to his pocket, gripping his wand as he made his way over to his sleeping place and listened. Maybe the house elves had done it when they made his bed. The thought echoed falsely in his head as he noted that only his curtains were drawn and he could not remember any time in his years here that he had found them closed without doing it himself. He considered calling for Blaise, but didn't want to waive his option of having no witnesses. He let his hand hesitate over the pull, feeling for magic, opened his mouth slightly to breath in any sweet taste of the dark arts. Nothing nefarious, but he became aware of a more subtle scent. A scent that followed him everywhere lately but only in the echo of his memory. It did not belong here.
He gently grasped the pull with his free hand and gave it enough of a tug to part the curtains to see inside. There she was. In his fucking bed. Long bare legs twined in his heavy blankets. Her school skirt had ridden up high on her thighs, just barely covering her round ass. Plain white tank top molded over unbound tits. Curls the color of coffee were bold and vibrant spread across blood red sheets. Her sweet face relaxed in sleep, plump lips parted as she exhaled her sweet breath on his pillow.
The scent of her, which had built up in the enclosed space rolled over him like a fog of lust. His blood temperature spiked, tripping down his spine, flooding his extremities. His cock swelling almost painfully against his pants. Merlin. Just last night he had laid right there, in the privacy of his drawn curtains, listening to his roommates breathe and snore while he stubbornly refused to touch himself. Eyes closed, imagining what it would be like if she were there with him. He'd woken up in a cold sweat, alone and aware just how big an empty bed could feel.
Maybe he was still dreaming.
He wanted to strip down. He wanted to crawl into bed with her. Kiss her lips, feel her come awake under his touch. Have her wrap those slender arms around him, mash those lovely breasts between them so he could feel their softness. Maybe she would do that thing she did, where her hips would undulate against him in a purely instinctual rhythm that made him lose all semblance of control. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his lips parted as his tongue remembered the taste of her kiss.
Frustrated with his visceral response he ran his hands through his hair and tried to shake off the white hot adrenaline that pulsed through him. He ought to know why she was here before he jumped on her like a mindless horny teenager. He didn't know what it was about her that stripped off the layers of experience and sophistication that branded him a Malfoy and left him a trembling idiot in her presence but he really needed to get a grip.
He stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the curtains closed behind him, draping them in shadow and creating the illusion of privacy. The room was empty but the door remained unlocked and any of his roommates could wander in. Just how the hell had she gotten in here with no one the wiser? It wasn't like they were in some abandoned classroom. She was in the very heart of Slytherin. He adjusted his straining cock with little success at relieving the pressure before reaching out a gentle hand to touch her shoulder.
She was warm and her skin was sinfully soft under his touch. He was acutely aware of his rough callouses as she sighed and shifted and failed to wake. He shook her gently, murmured her name prompting her to twist and wrap her arms around his pillow. Burrowing a bit, refusing to rise to consciousness. He twisted to follow her, bringing one leg up onto the bed and leaned in close.
He indulged his fantasy a bit, gathering a fist full of hair to move it out of his way so he could get low, whisper directly in her ear. Acutely aware of the rush of goosebumps his warm breath left on her flawless skin. The scent of her hair was overwhelming this close to her and he brutally shoved the compulsion to taste her neck down deep in the pit of his stomach and instead focused on her soft murmuring words, too faded to make out.
"What's that now sweetheart?" Voice low and strained as he released her hair to caress her neck. Ignoring his inner start at having let an endearment slip past his lips. She was sweet. So sweet his teeth ached with the need to bite down on that creamy perfect skin. Leave a mark. Brand her, no matter how temporarily.
She finally blinked awake, her eyes heavy lidded and soft with sleep. "Draco? " she whispered, just as low and husky as he had been. A moment of confusion as she visibly sought recent memory and then blinked again clarity returning to her gaze. "What time is it?"
He brushed his thumb over the warm hollow of her throat, drawing back slightly, unable to stop his questing fingers from dipping under the strap of her tank top to caress more bare skin. He wanted to twist his hand, grasp the soft fabric and pull it down. Get a taste of those nipples outlined by wicked cotton that enhanced more than concealed. He resisted and forced his brain to process her speech and answer like a normal rational person.
"After 9:00." He frowned down at her, becoming aware of a slight swollen quality to her lids. A barely there bloodshot sadness that stared up at him from her pretty eyes. She'd been crying. "You okay?"
He'd already been amped up from her mere presence. When her face crumpled slightly as she valiantly fought to keep from tearing up again, and failed, he flat out lost all rational emotional distance.
"Hey now," was all he managed to get out of a throat gone tight with anxiety before he found himself gathering up an armful of crying girl and shifting them to lay back against his headboard completely staggered by his unexpected need to comfort rather than seduce. She buried her pretty face in his neck and clung to him, fisting her tiny hands in his shirt while she soaked his collar. He stroked her hair as gently as he could manage and made soothing noises he doubted she could hear through her misery.
It wasn't long before she began to actively try to quit sobbing and he rubbed soothing circles on her back and she hiccupped and tried to control her breathing. Finally, she twisted her body so she wasn't sprawled totally on top of him, but snuggled into his side resting her head on his shoulder. As if she had done it a million times. As if she belonged there.
He anchored an arm around her and breathed slow and even. His usual glib tongue had abandoned him. The questions he had seemed insignificant and no other words surfaced to articulate his chaotic thoughts. He felt absolutely wrecked in the wake of her storm of emotion. He was not the guy to come to with feelings and tears. He had no idea what to say or what to do to sooth a distraught female.
He was not the guy that woman ran to for comfort or sanctuary. He was not the guy anyone came to spill secrets. He was seduction and snark and used money to solve his wealth of problems. He had no idea what to do with the tide of protective tender feelings that had risen up in him. How to wade through the hurricane of emotion she had unleashed to figure out what the hell to do to fix it. How to dry those tears. He wanted a smile, or even a snarl. He felt like he ought to do something, say something, but was completely out of his depth. Silence was surely better than saying the wrong thing.
"Can I stay?" She murmured with a voice still wet and choked. That's all she wanted? To stay here with him exactly where he wanted her? The relief was physical and he didn't stop himself from kissing the crown of her bent head. Surely instinct was the best way to deal with this since he certainly had no experience.
"Of course," seemed inarticulate but it was all he managed to say. He wanted to somehow express how much he wanted her to stay. How welcome she was. Words fell short of his emotions so he went with action. He shifted them again, moving her more horizontal and fumbling with the blanket to drape it over them. "Rest now."
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Jealousy