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Dance with the One that Brought You	By : KatDiva Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 43176 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13: Seduced

Harry lowered the Firebolt slowly down onto the turret’s open patio. Hermione had been sitting in front of him again, but this time she wore his Gryffindor robe since the evening air had chilled considerably. He had one arm around her waist, over the robe. Once they touched ground, he pulled the broom out from under them and turned Hermione to face him.

“Don’t regret anything, Hermione,” he said softly as he pulled his robe tight around her. “I know I don't.”

They had not noticed the dark figure in the shadows of the door that led back into the castle. He was leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed as well. He narrowed his eyes immediately, feeling very much the alpha male. Had he heard correctly? What exactly had Potter done with Granger? And more importantly, why was he clutching her still!

“Nice outing?” he leered at Hermione as she jumped and swung around to face him.

“Viktor!”

Potter moved to stand slightly in front of Hermione, as if to block access to her.

Interesting development, Potter.

Hermione came to her senses and tugged gently on Harry’s arm. “Go see Madame Pomfrey — just to make sure everything's OK.”

Harry looked down at her and then at the Bulgarian. Draco lifted himself up from the doorframe, unfolding his arms; it appeared as if Harry wasn’t going anywhere.

Potty’s deaf as well as dumb.

“You are injured, Potter?” He walked casually toward the two.

“We had a run-in with a fully grown male sphinx,” Hermione explained. “That’s why we’re so late. Isn’t it Harry?” She said the last bit as a hint for him to confirm her explanation.

Harry understood what Hermione wanted, but he didn’t want to make it easy for her after what they had just shared together in the forest. His eyes took on a sparkle of mischief as he grinned knowingly at her.

“… Or maybe we shouldn’t have spent so much time … eating.”

Hermione blushed as she glared at him. She could box his ears! He was being cheeky on purpose!

“I’m sure it was a combination of the sphinx and trying to fly in the pitch dark, Harry.” She gritted her teeth together. “DO go see Madame Pomfrey. I'll be along shortly.”

Draco wanted to wipe that smirk right off of Potter’s face, but he knew this wasn’t how the Bulgarian would handle things. He attempted to remain calm, but he felt as though he was standing on the balls of his feet, ready to surge on top of the annoying Scarhead. He attributed these feelings of anger to be drawn from wearing the Bulgarian’s skin. Surely he could really care less what had transpired between the two.

Harry eyed the other champion before turning back to Hermione. He leaned into her and whispered, “You forgot to dry your hair.” To emphasize his point he tugged on her ponytail. He was rewarded with another icy glare from Hermione, and he chuckled to himself as he walked toward the door.

“You'll need to shampoo tonight, Hermione,” he called over his shoulder, “... strawberry innit?” Hermione was ready to stalk past Viktor and charge after Harry, but Draco reached down for her wrist as she attempted to get by him.

He noticed the still damp tendrils of her ponytail. Draco reached up and took a strand of dark hair between his fingers, for some reason wanting to to feel it, confirming its wetness. Wanting to see what Hermione’s reaction would be, he bent down and took a strand of her hair into his mouth and sucked it. Odd tasting — like sulfur.

“Go for a swim?” he asked. Then, remembering who he was supposed to be, he added, “Hermyninny.”

He saw the fierce blush spread over her cheeks, even in the dark. He felt a growl rumble in his chest, but he pushed it back down. So Potthead must have made his move. He noticed a slight tremble in her hand as she reached to pull the strand from his mouth. He hadn’t even touched her yet, and she was trembling. He felt confident that the Bulgarian probably would not have gotten that reaction.

“You should be careful.” He lowered his voice and held her eyes captive with his. “The Dark Forest is dangerous. Many evils.”

She shivered and tried tossing her head back, but it was a very weak gesture.

Her reaction made him feel strong … potent. They hadn't even done anything together yet. What would happen when they did? Draco's skin broke out in tingles. He vowed to find out even if it meant that he'd lower his standards, just this once. If he was going to do this, he would do it right.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was keeping track of time and how many minutes had ticked by already. They only had around forty minutes left, and he didn't want to waste any of it.

Hermione took a step back, her hair slipping from between Draco’s loose grasp. "Viktor," she began, c "I'm well able to take care of myself. It's just that when I'm around Harry, things get … complicated."

Draco caught a handful of hair again, wanting badly to use the grip to bring her closer. But he only cupped the dark strands, letting them pool in his palm like melted chocolate. Again the sparks ignited at the mention of the Golden Boy's name. He wanted — no he needed — to clear her mind of Potter.

"You're too important to me for me not to worry," Draco declared, rubbing his fingers together over the dampness. He knew the Bulgarian was charmed by her, so it wasn't hard for him to come up with the right sentiment.

He took in her milky skin, her dark eyes, and asked without realizing it, “Do you take after your father or your mother?”

She smiled, feeling much more at ease now that the conversation was off of the focus of the spring incident. “My mother is fair, and my father has dark brown hair.”

He nodded in understanding. “That explains your complexion.” His eyes drifted over her pale skin again.

“I’m ordinary,” she admitted, “but the brains make up for it.” She shrugged her shoulders in acceptance. She had said this so matter-of-factly that he had to smile.

Draco shook his head, amazed at her naiveté. He knew she had grown up sheltered from the magical world, being raised by Muggles, but he never thought her to be cloistered in ignorance of her own looks. It was so odd that she didn’t know. Miss Know-It-All didn’t know that she was pretty.

Time was slipping by him, and all he could think about was how she looked. He had to regain control of this situation. Stick to the plan!

He reached down into his pocket, withdrew the small crystal bottle, and extended it to her. “For you, Hermyninny.”

Hermione reached down to his palm, and he saw that her fingers were still trembling. Was she afraid of him? Nervous? Or was she indeed just this innocent?

“Viktor,” she whispered looking up to face him. “You’ve already given me the ribbons. This is too much.”

He pressed the vial into her hands and then cupped her face. He had to convince her to take this. He wouldn't allow her to reject it.

“Please,” he asked, the word feeling foreign to his lips, “an early birthday present.”

“The bottle is so pretty! What is it?”

He smiled at her as he raised his hand to touch the tender spot behind her ear.

“Crystal from Poland. It’s perfume, especially made for you. You must wear it for me.”

He leaned in closer, replacing his lips where his hand just had touched. He kissed her behind her ear, and she leaned her head back further, bringing a knowing smile to his lips. He could taste saltiness on her skin that wasn't hers. He confirmed that she indeed had been submersed in some sort of water.

She was overcome with warmth, yet she felt like she had goose bumps at the same time. There was a wild, fluttery feeling in her stomach. It caused a strange surge of blood to her lower body that left her feeling faint and exhilarated at the same time.

This wasn't love. She understood that love was an emotion she could not yet feel at her young age. But what she was feeling was something almost as potent as when she kissed Harry. This must be lust.

Lust... it made her hand shake as she pushed against Viktor’s chest. It made her breath short as he slid his tongue down her neck. She was scared. She was excited. It was all she could do not to jump out of her skin when he growled into the crook of her neck.

“You must wear the perfume here,” he murmured behind her ear. Hermione bit her lip as Draco’s lips hummed against the outer shell of her ear. For whatever reason, the Gods deemed it necessary for her to be tortured twice in one day. That's what this felt like, a bittersweet torture, that brought her to a brink, an edge, and held her dangling over, never letting her discover what was just beyond these sensational feelings.

She was supposed to be talking to Viktor about Harry. She was supposed to explain that she wasn't sure how she felt about her best friend now. She should tell Viktor about the kisses they shared.

But Viktor was much more intense tonight. She couldn’t quite grasp what it was about him, but he was more provocative. He didn’t ask permission; he pressed forward as if it were his right. Not since the time in the library had he kissed her neck and pressed this close.

Draco raised her wrists to his lips and lightly kissed the inside of each one, “… and place a few drops here,” he pushed aside the overly large Gryffindor robe and continued up to the fold of her arm, each crease of her elbow he marked with another feathery kiss, “… and here.”

He paused, wondering how far he could push his luck before she would stop him. He could tell she was still green, still inexperienced. It was the sight of the male-sized robe that made his decision for him. She smelled of Potter when she wore his robe, and Draco was offended by it.

He unbottoned the clasp that held the robe around her neck and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it fall to ground. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she started to bend over to pick it up. He caught her by the shoulders and shook his head at her, his lips turned up in a fox grin.

He ran his single index finger over her collarbone and then lightly drew a path downward, stopping just above the cleavage of her small breasts. She tried not to moan when his lips had reclaimed her neck, drifting from her ear down lower. Scorching heat seared her where the single finger stopped, and then it began drawing delicate circles over her t-shirt.

“… and here,” his own voice caught in his throat. Gods, how he wanted to cup her small softness and bring it to his mouth. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the knowledge that this was Viktor Krum and not Draco Malfoy touching her.

The heated tip of Draco's tongue ran a sinuous trail up and down the side of her neck. When it slid down the junction between her neck and shoulder, Hermione's fingers and toes curled. She had to force the digits flat upon Viktor’s chest, pressing the perfume bottle into him. She could feel herself shaking as Draco continued to lick her. Lick her.

Merlin's beard, she'd never imagined she would be doing this tonight! It felt so good, that sleek wetness tickling her and yet not. The sheer wetness of his tongue and its odd, firm strength against Hermione’s neck were making the blood drain from her head and fall to her nether parts.

Draco's breath cooled the moisture on Hermione's skin. He had watched her do this before, with Krum, and now she was allowing him to do this again. He remembered watching them in the library. I suppose this is nothing new to you, Granger. Sharp teeth sunk into the flesh of Hermione's shoulder, right where it met her neck. Hermione gasped and then bit her lip to cover up the sound.

Draco willed her to tell the difference this time. Recognize me!

Her vision was going blurry. She tried to concentrate on talking, saying something, anything. She pressed almost desperately against Viktor’s chest. She forced herself to move.

“I need to go,” she said in a husked whisper.

Oh, but that voice threatened to undo Draco. She panted, feeling herself shiver despite the flush of heat that was blazing throughout her body.

Draco wanted more time. He had twenty more minutes at the most. He wasn’t ready for her to leave him yet.

He needed more.

He continued to whisper as he gently urged Hermione closer to him, "Behind your knees," — his grin showed whitely in the dim lighting — "you mustn’t forget there." Hermione stared up at him helplessly, knowing her face was aflame and that she was panting too loudly to disguise it. Her body was sensitive with newfound need and she ached … oh, how she ached.

Draco pulled her closer, and the space between them vanished. He rubbed Krum's roughly stubbled cheek against Hermione’s, letting his breath fan her ear. Hermione tried yet again to press her hands against Viktor’s chest. Muscles as firm as stone shifted beneath her palms. The touch made her fingers buzz with the need to feel more. But she was afraid. Afraid of what she wanted, afraid of asking for it. Afraid of being wanton and fearful of what she was becoming with him.

Before she could escape, Draco leaned down and kissed her. Kissed.

She whimpered, not caring that it revealed her inexperience, or her need and desperation. This was magical. Viktor was kissing her so tenderly. Then it happened: She saw Harry behind her closed eyelids and remembered how soft his kisses had been in the spring.

She forced herself to break free from Viktor’s hold. Hermione had never dreamed that she could feel this way about two boys at the same time! Both kisses were so intense yet so gentle that it left her in a quivering puddle.

“Vikto, “she panted, “I need to talk to you. I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this.”

Draco was inflamed. Not Viktor! Notice me! Feel me!

He refused to let her leave without getting more of her taste. He pulled her against him, and this time it was not as gentle or soft. His lips coaxed hers open. She was resistant, stubborn, but he was persistent, and finally she opened to him, allowing a determined tongue to slip forward and enter her mouth in an intimate joining.

Never before in his life, and never again would it be like this. Draco somehow knew it deep down in his soul.

She moaned at the tender invasion, losing the strength to stand. Draco caught her, pressing her against him. Her softness made him harden with arousal. Nothing could drown out the beat stampeding wildly in Hermione's chest. Her senses were spinning. She could hardly breathe. It was almost frightening how quickly and completely she was losing control of her body. Yet it was exciting ... and scary.

Draco's tongue stroked over her own. It pumped across her own wetness in a rhythm that made Hermione tighten her legs together, squeezing a raging, pulsing need. Timidly, Hermione let her tongue entangle with his. When she did, she moaned into his mouth. Draco nearly exploded at the sound.

Hermione's passion. For him. Because of him. No, not him. Krum!

Draco's own moan eclipsed hers as she reached her arms behind him and clutched helplessly at his back. She was so weak that he feared she might collapse.

Draco's mouth tore away from hers to whisper, "Breathe, love. Breathe. I've got you." The hand around Hermione's lower back stroked her comfortingly. Her lips were swollen from his kisses.

The Slytherin in him wanted to make her lose control with need. He watched Hermione's pupils dilate. He couldn't remember ever feeling sexier as he murmured, "I can make you forget your own name and only remember mine." His name, not Krum, not Potter!

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Just his words had made her excited.

"I can't." She tried desperately to hold on to her resolve. "It's too much."

It was just as well. Draco had felt Krum engorge with arousal. He found himself pressing against her, pushing his erection against her lower belly. If he continued now, he would impale her. He wanted to grind himself against her and attack every inch of her.

He had gone too far. He knew it. Somewhere in his mind he had lost track of his plan, and instead of the seducer, he had become the seduced.
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Dance with the One that Brought You