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A Summer Holiday	By : TwistOfLime Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

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Chapter Twelve: Congratulations

Draco let Hermione go down to the Gregory’s by herself; he didn’t want to appear to be spending too much time with her in front of their mothers. He wasn’t sure about Mrs. Granger, but he was fairly certain his mother already suspected something. He also felt it was prudent to distance himself from Hermione when possible. He was quickly becoming addicted to her, to everything she was willing to offer him: her forgiveness, her compassion, her body. He suspected he was in much deeper than he was willing to admit to himself, but if life had taught him anything it was how to suppress the things he’d rather not think about and for now Draco was happy to carry on in contented denial… Besides, he still had McGonagall’s essay to finish.

Several hours later Draco made his way downstairs, rubbing a kink out of his neck with an ink stained hand. Rounding the corner, he found his mother in the kitchen frowning with concentration as scarlet icing flowed from the tip of her wand to coat the cake in front of her.

“What do you think?” she asked, flicking her wand so that the words Congratulations Hermione began spelling themselves out in golden icing on the top of the cake.

“Appalling,” he replied, changing the icing to a deep green with a wave of his wand.

“Draco,” she admonished with a tsk, restoring the cake to Gryffindor scarlet before adding gold piping on the side. “Do you think it’s alright? I wanted to have something to give her tonight. I would have done more, but the muggles are coming; I didn’t want something overtly magical.”

“I’m a little insulted. I don’t believe you’ve ever made a cake for me.”

“Oh? I suppose I imagined all those birthday cakes over the years.”

“I didn’t say I never had a cake, I said you never made me one.”

“Brat,” she muttered, slapping his hand away as he reached for some icing. “I’m sure you’ll appreciate me letting the house-elves take care of the baking once you’ve tasted this… It looks alright though, doesn’t it? I’ve just never been good at these household spells. And I had to bake most of it the muggle way…”

“It looks wonderful and I’m sure it tastes the same,” Draco said reassuringly.

“I suppose it’ll have to do,” she sighed, levitating the cake into the largest of the metal boxes littering the kitchen. “So,” she said turning towards him, her eyes glittering dangerously, “I assume you’re enjoying yourself? I feel like I haven’t seen you since we got here.”

“I’ve suffered through worse,” Draco drawled carefully, steeling himself against his mother’s meddling and attempting to look as little like a cornered animal as possible though his instincts were braced for fight or flight.

“You and Hermione seem to be getting along.”

“Neither of us is dead or injured and the house is still standing so I suppose it’s a fair conclusion to draw.”

“I suppose I should thank you for your restraint, although it doesn’t seem to be taxing your self-control too much. I told you she would be able to keep the past in the past.” Narcissa paused, regarding him thoughtfully before continuing with a feigned casualness. “Of course, she and Blaise seem to get along quite well too.”

Draco remained silent; leaning against the counter with what he hoped was a bored detachment but feared was more on the angry and panicked end of the spectrum.

“Perhaps, we should have invited him to celebrate with us tonight?” she asked lightly, cleaning up the remains of her foray into baking with a flick of her wand.

“You’d have to speak with Granger, though I was under the impression that they’re merely friendly acquaintances.”

“Of course,” she replied moving to stand in front of him, scrutinizing him closely. Draco studiously ignored her, examining his nails until Narcissa took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. “Be good Draco,” she warned in that irritatingly omniscient mother voice of hers.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

“No? Well if you’ll excuse me I have to get the flour out of my hair,” she said, leaving Draco alone in the kitchen to curse his mother’s perceptiveness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That evening, Draco found himself beneath a canopy of Gryffindor streamers and starlight enjoying the dinner provided by Mr. and Mrs. Gregory for the occasion.

The night had gone surprisingly well, full of good food, good company and good conversation. Much like on the morning he had met her, Mrs. Gregory kept up a steady stream of talk that drew everyone in. There was a slight moment of confusion when Draco, answering a question posed by Mrs. Gregory, admitted to attending Hogwarts with Hermione.

“I thought Hogwarts was an all-girls school…” said Mr. Gregory in confusion.

“It is,” Draco replied quickly, taking in the flutter of panic that had crossed Hermione’s face. “Hermione’s school is our sister school. That’s how we met. They’re different schools, but they have the same name.” Draco knew his response was pretty implausible, but he also knew that if you said anything with enough confidence you could get people to believe it and it wasn’t as if Mr. Gregory was inclined to be suspicious about where they went to school.

“Oh… of course. Strange that I’ve never heard of either of them.”

“A toast,” Mrs. Gregory said, interrupting her husband’s train of thought and raising her wine glass, “to Hermione: Congratulations dear, we’re so proud of you.”

“Here, here,” chanted her husband in response as the party raised their glasses. Even by the dim light of the candles Draco could see Hermione blushing beside him. Perhaps it was because of their conversation earlier, but Draco found that Hermione’s happiness didn’t meet her eyes. They lacked their usual sparkle, looking old and tired and tinged with sadness and guilt. Protected by the cover darkness, Draco found her hand underneath the table, clasping it reassuringly in his and delighting when she returned the pressure and laced her fingers through his.

When the party broke up, the four made quick work of the mess before heading up to bed.

“I do love magic,” Mrs. Granger said with a yawn, carrying stacks of clean dishes back to the kitchen as Hermione vanished the streamers with a flick of her wand.

Later that night, Draco lay in bed listening to the sound of the ocean and replaying his morning with Hermione in his mind, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face, happy that for the first time in over a year the thoughts distracting him were pleasant rather than horrifying, when his musings were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

Draco groaned; there was only one person who would come to see him at this time of night and it certainly wasn’t Mrs. Granger or his mother. He briefly contemplated pretending to be asleep, but as he had previously discovered his will power was essentially non-existent where Hermione was concerned. Furthermore, it seemed unlikely that she would be knocking at his door with only a thin wall to separate them from their mothers if it wasn’t important; he was curious.

“Yes?” Draco asked quietly, opening the door a crack and leaning against the frame. Just because he was curious to know what she wanted didn’t mean he was going to let her in. The stirring in his shorts seemed to protest this course of action, but Draco ignored it; its vote didn’t count.

“Can I come in?” Hermione whispered.

“Granger…” he began, gathering every ounce of self-control he possessed.

“Please?” she pressed and Draco stepped aside, knowing that he really didn’t want to deny her anyway. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she fidgeted nervously in front of him.

“Muffliato,” she whispered, pointing her wand at the door before placing it on his desk. Draco said nothing, watching her squirm in front of him, her white t-shirt sticking to her shoulders where it had been made damp by her hair, still wet from the shower.

The minutes stretched out in silence, Hermione staring down at her bare feet, twisting her hair nervously, while Draco calmly watched in a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Is there anything in particular that you wanted Granger?” he asked finally.

“Yes,” she replied almost petulantly.

“And what would that be?” he drawled.

“Distract me,” she said, meeting his eyes for the first time as her hands dropped to her sides.

“Excuse me?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she closed the distance between them so quickly that Draco didn’t even know she had moved until he felt her lips crash against his and her hands tangle in his hair. She tasted like the wine they’d had at dinner and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

“I need you to distract me,” she whispered against his mouth between kisses. “I’ve spent all night lying to the people that I love, pretending that nothing’s happening. I’m sick of it, sick of torturing myself with guilt and doubt. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to think anymore. Distract me,” she pleaded.

The small part of his mind that was still rational screamed dire warnings about their mothers’ proximity, then her tongue found its way into his mouth and his hand drifted down to grip her arse through the thin cotton of her shorts and their mothers could stand and watch for all he cared.

She pushed him back onto the bed and he willingly complied, pulling her with him and sliding backwards until he was lying down, Hermione straddling his waist. She rocked her hips against him in time with the caress of her tongue on his and he let his hands trail up her sides under her shirt, his fingers burning with the need to feel the silky softness of her skin.

Kissing Hermione was quickly becoming his favorite pastime and he was quite content to spend the rest of the night like this, enjoying the taste of her and the pleasant weight of her against his chest, but she released his lips and began kissing her way along his jaw and down his neck. As much as he enjoyed the attention, he felt overwhelmed with the need to feel her lips against his again and tangled his hands in her hair to pull her back where he wanted her.

“Patience Draco,” she murmured against his mouth, grabbing his wrists and pinning them gently against the mattress as she began kissing and nipping her way across his skin again, down his neck and chest. By the time her tongue darted out to tease his nipple he realized what she intended and felt himself harden against her.

She continued her path downward and as she nipped her way down the taut muscles of his stomach he felt her hands hook in the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his hips to help her pull them off. As he kicked the offending garment away, Hermione ran her tongue over the curve of his hip and nudged his knees apart to settle between his legs. Draco couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him at the feel of her warm breath ghosting across his erection.

Draco lifted his head to watch her. She looked him the same way she looked at a particularly difficult Arithmancy problem, with a combination of fierce concentration and determination. Holding his gaze, she licked him slowly and deliberately, one long stroke of her tongue up his length from base to head. She was watching him carefully; he could practically see her cataloguing his reaction and filling it away in the appropriate section of her brain to be called upon at a moment’s notice for future reference.

She kissed the tip of him gently, her hair tickling his thigh, before starting to slowly ease her mouth over him. Her eyes were blazing and he was sure that if she could have managed to smirk with her lips around him she would have. He groaned softly and laid back against the bed, his hands fisting the sheets in an attempt to resist the temptation to twine them in her hair and bring her down on him more forcefully. As it was he couldn’t help thrusting into her hot, wet mouth and she stilled him with her hands on his hips, taking him deeper into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat.

Then she began to move, her head bobbing up and down, her hands stroking what she couldn’t reach and the world narrowed until it encompassed only the delicious sensations of heat and suction. Draco felt himself completely losing control as reality slipped from his grasp. He could hear low guttural noises and vaguely acknowledged that they must be coming from him. If he had the capability be might have been embarrassed by sounds he was making, but he couldn’t quite manage it and they only seemed to encourage her.

He was close, he could feel the tension building at the base of his spine, and reached down to try and pull her off him, but she knocked his hand away.

“Granger, I – ” The words caught in his throat, she lifted her head slightly to look at him, her eyes glinting wickedly and he realized that she had no intention of stopping, that she wanted him to come like this.

The realization sent him over the edge and he did his best to stifle a groan and control his frantic, erratic thrusts. Hermione stayed where she was as he came, drinking his release, swallowing all of it before releasing him with a small pop when he was completely spent. Her breath almost felt cool against his over-heated skin as she placed a wet kiss on his hip.

Through heavily lidded eyes, Draco watched as Hermione sat back on her heels, one hand on his thigh rubbing small circles with her thumb and the other wiping a bit of his release from the corner of her mouth. The image was mesmerizing: his come on the corner of Hermione Grangers’ mouth.

“I thought I was supposed to distract you,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows to watch as she climbed over his legs off the bed and retrieved her wand from his desk.

She paused with her hand on the door knob. “You did,” she said, with a wicked smirk that should be outlawed for the safety of wizards everywhere. “Good night Draco.”

After she had left, Draco lay there for an indefinite amount of time, shivering at the loss of her body’s warmth, before he made up his mind. He almost felt… used, which was odd since she had been quite generously focused on his pleasure and asked for nothing in return. But she had come in, taken what she wanted and left rather unceremoniously while he still lay there boneless with pleasure, struggling to keep his eyes open let alone get up to stop her.

Fetching his shorts from where they had fallen on the floor, he pulled them back on before finding his wand and crossing the hall as quietly as possible. He didn’t bother knocking, opening and closing the door quickly and quietly. Hermione’s room was almost identical to his own, or at least it appeared so in the near darkness.

“Colloportus,” he whispered before tossing his wand on her desk.

“Draco!” she hissed. “What are you doing?” She struggled to untangle herself from the sheets and Draco could just make out her outline illuminated by the weak light of the crescent moon.

Silently he sat down beside her, placing a light kiss on her neck before whispering in her ear. “We weren’t finished Granger.”

He could feel her pulse quicken beneath his lips. “My mother is next door. You need to leave.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you earlier when it was my mother next door. I don’t need to do anything,” he said placing kisses along her neck and gripping the end of her shirt. “Lift up your arms,” he commanded.

She shivered at his tone, but complied, allowing him to pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. Draco kissed his way back up her neck to her mouth, capturing her lips with his in an attempt to quell any further protests. So far this was the most effective way he had found to shut her up. Slowly he pushed her back down onto the bed, hovering above her, bracing himself with one arm, the other hand cupping her breast, his thumb running over the nipple as it pebbled against his touch.

Shifting his weight to his knees, trailing his hands down her sides, Draco hooked his fingers in the band of her shorts. “Lift your hips,” he murmured against her lips. He felt her open her mouth and draw a breath as if she was going to protest, but she shifted below him without a sound and allowed him to slip off her shorts and knickers.

Draco collapsed beside her, kissing her once more as his hands roamed across her exposed skin, over her hips, across her stomach, down her chest, circling the silky skin of her breasts. “Spread your legs for me, Hermione,” he whispered as his fingers traced their way down the outside of her thigh to her knee and back up again. “I want to touch you.” She let out a soft moan at his words and he shushed her as he trailed a hand up her thigh and swept a single finger through her wet heat.

He felt her hips buck against him, trying to prolong the contact as she arched beneath him. “Please Draco,” she whimpered breathlessly.

“Please what?” he asked, dipping his head down to lave attention on her nipple’s stiff peak.

“Touch me.”

Her pleading sent a spasm through his stomach and he slipped his hand back down through her cinnamon curls, already damp with her arousal, parting her folds to find the small pearl of nerves that he thrummed with a finger.

Hermione let out a strangled cry at his ministrations and he removed his hands from between her legs, licking his fingers clean as he watched her. “Granger,” he warned. “If you can’t be quiet, we’ll have to stop.”

Even in the dim light of the room he could see her scowl and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Draco,” she moaned softly. “Please…”

“Please what?” he whispered.

“Stop bloody teasing you prat,’ she practically growled.

“Now, now Granger, name calling is no way to get what you want. Perhaps you need a lesson in manners.”

“Perhaps, you’re not up to the task. Perhaps I should just do it myself,” she said, mimicking his haughty tone as her hand snaked down between her legs.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head as he rolled to hover above her, holding her in place with is body against hers. “I think not,” he replied, biting her neck gently before soothing it with his tongue.

He kissed his way down her chest and by the time he had made his way to her breasts her hands had tangled in his hair, urging him on. He spent some time there; learning how she liked to be touched, making sure each side got equal attention and finding the small spot on the underside of her breast that caused her to bite her lip to muffle her whimpers when he ran his tongue along it.

Her stomach was smooth and flat, her skin creamy and he dipped his tongue into her navel before continuing his path downwards. He could smell her now, the heady musk of her arousal that had his mouth watering in anticipation.

Hermione spread her legs further as he came to rest at the junction between her legs. She was wet, her arousal running down her legs on to the sheets and Draco, eager to taste her, swept his tongue up her slit. She let out a muffled sound of pleasure and he lifted his head to find that she had clamped her hands over her mouth in an effort to stifle the noise. He smirked before diving back in, swirling his tongue around her hard bud before suckling it into his mouth and trapping it gently with his teeth as he flicked it with his tongue.

With her hands still clasped over her mouth she tried and failed miserably to suppress a moan as he moved his tongue down to her entrance. She grabbed the back of his head trying to pull him deeper inside, rolling her hips gently, causing his nose to bump against her. He could feel her walls beginning to tighten and moved his mouth back up to suck gently on her bud, at the same moment filling her with his fingers.

Without the constraining denim that he had had to deal with earlier that day, he was able to get much deeper and couldn’t help groaning as he imagined what it would feel like to be buried inside her. She was tight, Merlin was she tight, but she didn’t feel like she was a virgin. Who had she been with? Potter? Weasel? Perhaps, it was with Krum in their fourth year? He knew a brief and intense moment of jealously and applied himself with greater enthusiasm, lapping and suckling, plunging his fingers faster and deeper inside her, curling them to hit that spot inside her that made her arch off the bed.

She came fast with a soft cry and Draco peered up from between her legs to watch her come undone as he lapped at her release, tangy and sweet on his tongue. When she had finished spasming around him he removed his hand from her heat, licking his fingers clean and crawling up her body as she panted beneath him, her chest heaving. With a weak grip she pulled his head down to hers, kissing him thoroughly and he almost exploded with the realization that she was sucking herself off his tongue.

He lay down beside her and she curled against him nuzzling his neck while he stroked a hand over her hair and down her back.

“Are we finished now?” she whispered, her attempt at sarcasm undermined by the fact that she was still quite breathless.

“Brat,” he grumbled as she threw an arm over his waist and pulled him closer. “Next time I’ll make sure to render you speechless. I find I like you much better when you’re not talking.”

He felt her smirk as she placed a kiss against his chest. “I look forward to the attempt,” she said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I don’t mean to be rude… but you know you can’t stay here, right?”

She was quite possibly the most irritating woman he had ever met, and he was forced into frequent contact with Pansy Parkinson. “Would you shut up and enjoy the afterglow Granger? Clearly I did something wrong if you’re still this coherent. I find it insulting.”

She chuckled lightly but otherwise remained silent, snuggling against him once more. Draco waited until her breathing evened out and she relaxed against his chest before extracting himself from her embrace and covering her with a blanket. Silently he made his way back across the hall, annoyed that despite his best efforts she seemed to have won that round as well.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. I’m busy the next couple days, but the next chapter should be much quicker. I hope it was worth the wait!
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A Summer Holiday