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Pansy's Volcano	By : Bluemidget57 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 206366 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
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
- 1-Pansy's Volcano
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty one
- 22-Twenty Two
- 23-Twenty Three
- 24-Twenty Four
- 25-Twenty Five
- 26-Twnety Six
- 27-Twenty Seven
- 28-Twenty Eight
- 29-Twenty Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty one
- 32-Thirty Two
- 33-Thirty Three
- 34-Thirty Four
- 35-Thirty Five
- 36-Thirty Six
- 37-Thirty Seven
- 38-Thirty Eight
- 39-Thirty Nine
- 40-Forty
- 41-Forty One
- 42-Forty Two
- 43-Forty Three
- 44-Forty Four
- 45-Forty Five
- 46-Forty Six
- 47-Forty Seven
- 48-Forty Eight
- 49-Forty Nine
- 50-Fifty
- 51-Fifty One
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 23
- 24
- 25
Well, I haven�t disclaimed for a while, so I better do so. Not mine. Wah!

Chapter Twenty Four

The Felton Arms was a stately building; built of a warm yellow stone, it could well have passed in the Muggle world for a C17^th manor house. It would probably be owned by the National Trust and open to the public Hermione thought, as the coach stopped outside. The illusion was shattered when the doorwizard rushed down to open the carriage for them. No where in historical Muggle Britain would you find a person dressed in the livery of the Felton Arms. His robes were purple adorned with stars, and bordered with gold piping. He wore a badge proclaiming his status- Concierge - which displayed continuously changing images of the duties he was responsible for. On his head he wore a golden pointed hat with purple trim.
Hermione couldn�t resist a quick glance at Draco to see if he found the sight as amusing as she did, but his countenance remained unmoved as if he was quite accustomed to seeing little men in psychedelic robes rushing to do his bidding. She felt a moment�s sadness for the areas of her life she had left behind for ever. Even Harry probably wouldn�t appreciate this, for the Dursleys had certainly never taken him anywhere, or given him the opportunity to explore his country�s history. She sighed as she shook off the strange melancholy and found that Malfoy was informing the attendant of their appointment with Mr Pringle.
The coach moved away, presumably round to the stables which apparently were located to the rear of the building, to await their return journey. Draco walked up the steps and held the doors open for Hermione to enter. Once inside they approached the reception desk and another wizard dressed in purple and gold; he directed them to seat themselves on some very plush sofas in the lobby whilst he summoned a clerk to take them to Mr Pringle�s office.
The clerk who arrived to take them to their appointment was similarly attired in the Hotel�s livery, and Hermione was just beginning to accustom herself to it when the office door opened and Mr Dilman Pringle stood there in all his glory. Hermione wished that someone had thought to prepare her beforehand for the sartorial splendour which was their host. Pringle had long dark hair which hung in a braid down his back and was tied at the end with a cluster daisies. He had three earrings in each ear, and a ring on every finger of each hand except the thumb. His nails were painted lavender to match his robes, and whilst he was wearing the same uniform as the rest of the staff, it somehow managed to look entirely different on him. The front of his robes were open and she could see that he was wearing extremely tight silver dragon hide trousers, and a blousy white shirt which was so transparent that she could see every shadow and curve of his chest, which was covered with dark hair. There was a large gold medallion hanging around his neck. Hermione had to bite her bottom lip very hard indeed to force her expression to remain neutral.
Even so, she knew she was staring but seemed totally unable to prevent herself; she could feel Draco stiffen up behind her and she took an imperceptible step backwards so that she was lightly resting against his length. She didn�t want him to open his mouth and let a typically sarcastic Malfoy comment slip out. Despite his - different - appearance, they still had to work with this wizard, and it would do no good for them to antagonize him the moment they met.
At her action, Draco tensed even further and her heart leapt into her throat, fearing that she had made the wrong move and inadvertently inflamed the situation, but then he exhaled and allowed his hand to lift and rest gently on her hip. And then of course with the immediate disaster averted, a million other feelings rushed up on her, all of them focused on her dangerously close proximity to the Head Boy, and the small detail that he had not removed his hand, and in fact seemed to be stroking her side lightly.
Mr Pringle appeared luckily oblivious to the undercurrents running between his guests. He shook hands with each of them so very lightly that he barely seemed make contact at all, and turned away motioning them to follow him.
�Great,� Malfoy mumbled close to her ear as they did as they were bid, �Wish Dumbledore had warned us we�d be liaising with a cream puff,� and Hermione had to gnaw again on her lip to stop herself giggling at his falsetto tone.
�First, I shall walk you around the hotel, you will see where we are going to have your soirée. Then we must look at the accommodations for the guests and then I shall show you the kitchens and we will talk about the menu and how to arrange seating. Do you have a guest list with you?� Pringle asked as he led the way out of a back door to his office. Hermione tried to concentrate on his words but hoped that Draco was doing a better job of it than she was, because all that she could think about was the fact that Draco had not yet removed his hand from the small of her back and didn�t seem to have any plans to do so in the near future.
His touch was playing havoc with her heartbeat and her ability to form thoughts, but the simple solution of merely stepping away from his hand was not something which even occurred to her. However, the sight of the Ballroom was one which penetrated even Hermione�s hormonal distraction. �Oh, my!� she exclaimed as Pringle dramatically flung wide the doors with the air of a man who knew the reaction he would get.
�Yeah,� Draco agreed softly, moving in even closer beside her so that their sides were brushing against each other from shoulder to thigh. The room was beautiful, completely decorated in gold and white and seemed to have most recently been used for a wedding party, as there was a small alter adorned with flowers at the centre of the stage. Pringle was darting around waving his arms extravagantly as he pointed, maintaining a running commentary without seeming to stop for breath.
�And the tables will be circular, dressed in white linen of course with a Christmas motif in the centre, King Arthur - bless him - such a clever man, although it was probably Merlin�s idea -�
�What?� Malfoy whispered behind her, to which she muttered �I�ll tell you later,� under her breath, as their host continued to indicate features of the facility.
�This is where the band will play, and the kitchens are though here. All of our wait-staff are humans; we only employ elves in housekeeping, the Felton Arms upholds the old fashioned values. Come, come�� he breezed into the kitchen area with Hermione and Draco trailing behind. As expected the cooking area was pristine; indeed if asked Hermione would have had to say that no morsel of food had ever touched any of its gleaming surfaces.
Pringle paused momentarily to tap his wand at a drawer - yes, he had a wand. It was mauve. The drawer opened and several sheets of parchment popped up into his hand. �Sample menus, my dears,� he informed his bemused companions. �We shall take a look when we return to my office. Let�s view the accommodations now, shall we?�
With that their energetic host swept out of another door towards the rear of the kitchens and led them over to an antiquated lift. �This is a service lift, but it will serve our purpose in getting to the third floor where your guest suites will be situated. Of course, on the day you will use the lifts in the main lobby.� Hermione was quite thankful for the opportunity to rest as the ancient metal contraption wheezed its way slowly upwards. So far, Dilman Pringle reminded her of nothing so much as a whirling dervish. The man just never slowed down.
Of course, the momentary immobility also gave her time to reflect on the unsettling proximity of the Head Boy. Due to the speed of their whirlwind tour, he had been forced to drop his hand from the small of her back as they raced through the kitchens, but now in this dimly lit confined space, her body was again signaling its heightened awareness of his own. She was just beginning to shift nervously from one foot to the other when the lift shuddered to a halt accompanied by much grinding and creaking. The ornate wrought iron gate squeaked open and Mr Pringle was on the move again, leaving Hermione no time to reflect on her irritating hormones.
They were conducted through three different bedrooms of varying sizes and amenities before Pringle darted back to the main staircase which they had glimpsed briefly whilst waiting in the lobby for their guide. He swept down the stairs keeping up a running monologue and gesturing to paintings and items along the way which he apparently deemed to be of interest to them, without ever breaking his step or pausing to breathe.
By the time they were finally seated in front of his large and totally empty desk, Hermione was breathing heavily and feeling as if she had just run a marathon. Even Draco, who was by no means sedentary, looked as if he had just undergone a major workout.
�Right then, shall we look at your guest list?� Mr Pringle asked as he took his seat opposite them and rested his chin on his steepled fingers, much in the way Dumbledore did. He had laid his purple uniform robes over a nearby stool, and Hermione was quite disconcerted by the sight of the twinkling gold medallion moving in and out of Mr Pringle�s chest hair as he spoke.
Draco removed the list that Professor Dumbledore had given him and unfolded it, laying it down on the desk between Mr Pringle and themselves. Pringle hmmm�d to himself, and the lightly tapped the sheet with his mauve wand. Before their astonished eyes, the list of names on the parchment began to rise into the air and rearrange themselves into three columns of words floating disembodied in the space over Mr Pringle�s desk. At the bottom of each column a number appeared showing how many names were in each list.
�So,� Pringle mumbled as he examined his creation. �We have thirty four students, five teaching staff, six governors and eight guests from the ministry. That makes fifty three people in all, an odd number. Most unfortunate.� He flicked his wand again, and beside the charmed guest list a holographic model of the dining room appeared complete with circular tables occupied by tiny charmed figures who were chatting enthusiastically amongst themselves. Pringle tapped his wand again and the seating arrangements of the miniature guests changed quickly; this new distribution did not seem to please him any more than the first, so he rearranged them again, and then once more for luck. By this time his hapless diners were beginning to get annoyed with him; several were waving their fists threateningly - a couple had even drawn their miniscule wands and were pointing them at Pringle.
With a quick swish of his mauve wand, Pringle dissipated the model ballroom, and stared across his desk at Hermione and Draco, �As you see, it�s not as easy as just sitting down and expecting a meal to be placed in front of you. You could have six tables of eight, or eight tables of six, but you will still have five people left over, and someone without a partner. I wouldn�t advise you to have seven tables as there will be an odd number at at least four of them, and that�s not even taking into account the proportion of witches to wizards. I will expect you to have that information when you meet with me next time; along with a tentative seating plan for me to check over. Let�s move on now to the menus available.� He floated the parchments across the desk which he had collected in the kitchen.
Draco looked quickly at Hermione; during Pringle�s wand-waving dialogue he hadn�t dared to take his eyes off the flamboyant little wizard in case he missed anything significant. He was relieved to see that in her usual efficient manner, Hermione was scribbling down lists of instructions on a napkin she must have liberated from the dining room as they passed through. He leant over to see what she had written, glad of the excuse to get nearer to her.
Considering that he had been given the gift of an afternoon exclusively in Granger�s company, he had been able to take very little opportunity from it to advance his own case with the infuriatingly conscientious Head Girl. The brief touches at the base of her spine had been over far too quickly as their irritatingly perky host had rushed them around the building. He shuffled his chair closer to Hermione�s and read her notes, managing to position himself so that their shoulders were touching lightly but in such a manner that she could mistake it for coincidence.
She turned towards him alarmed that he was suddenly closing in, and found him already so close to her that their noses bumped together as he leant over. For a brief moment Dilman Pringle, the Felton Arms and the rest of Hogsmeade fell away and all she could see was a pair of silvery grey eyes staring deep into her own, but then Malfoy looked downwards and broke the spell. �What have you got there, Granger?� he asked hoping she did not pick up on the sudden huskiness of his voice.
She cleared her throat before answering but her voice still came out squeakier than she would have liked. �Just - just writing down what we need to accomplish by next week, Malfoy,� she muttered. �I don�t expect you�ve taken any notes, have you?�
Dilman Pringle watched this exchange with irritation as his proffered menus hovered in mid-air unnoticed by the young couple sitting before him, who appeared unable to see anything but each other. He cleared his throat loudly before they did something inappropriate like jumping each other in his office. He was a professional, for Merlin�s sake - why did he have to deal with these hormone driven teenagers? �The menus, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy.� He announced loudly, and was gratified when they both jumped in their chairs as if they had been hexed. He just knew they had forgotten he was there, and that was totally unacceptable.
The rest of their meeting with the event coordinator proceeded much like the first hour. Mr Pringle gesticulated a lot and talked down to them some more, and eventually ejected them from his office with admonishments to be better prepared by next weekend or he would wash his hands of the whole event.
Finally standing outside in the weak November sunlight at a safe distance from the strange little man, Hermione and Draco could not help the laughter which caught up with them. �Who did he remind you of?� Draco asked at last, grinning at her in a way which was guaranteed to drive all logical thought right out of her brain. She gazed at him blankly. �Oh, come on, Granger,� he muttered. �Don�t disappoint me. I would have thought you would see it straight off.�
It was the emphasis on the you which did it for Hermione. She snapped out of her lust-induced daydream and glared at Malfoy trying to come up with an answer to his question; of course, now that she was giving it her full concentration it didn�t take her long to find the answer. Gilderoy Lockhart, of course, and Malfoy had the nerve to refer back to her insane and pathetic crush on the teacher in their second year.

Oh, yes? taunted the hateful little voice in the back of her head which had been silent recently, but seemed to choose the most inopportune moments - like right now - to pop up again with a pithy comment. Like the crush you have going on now is any less pathetic and insane!

�He is nothing like Professor Lockhart,� she informed Draco loftily, �Although I could see why you might think so.� She turned her back on him and began walking away leaving Draco wondering what the hell had just happened. They had seemed to be getting along fairly well, and then she just froze up on him.
�Wait Granger,� he muttered and started after her as she marched up the road upon which the hotel was situated. He realised quickly that she was stomping off in totally the opposite direction to the stables and back towards the village itself. Taking a quick look at the time, he decided quickly that they still had a couple of hours before their absence would begin to look suspicious to anyone back at the school, and followed quickly after her. Maybe all was not irretrievably buggered up quite yet.
Hermione was cross at herself for letting him get to her again. Why did she keep thinking that they had gotten past the pettiness of their first five years, when he kept showing in so many little ways that he was still the stupid arrogant jerk he had always been? Her steps slowed as she reached the end of the road and her innate sense of fairness began to kick in. Damn him, but he was right of course, Pringle did very much put her in mind of Lockhart with his flamboyant overblown style and sweeping gestures, and when you considered it, the way in which her twelve year old self had hung on his every word- the charlatan - was quite amusing when considered from the distance of several years of maturity. Her annoyance with Malfoy, she admitted grudgingly, had come not from his teasing but her own lingering embarrassment over the memory of her infatuated behaviour. Damn it, she thought as her feet dragged to a halt, I�m going to have to apologize to him, aren�t I?

She took a steadying breath and turned around to go back and abase herself, only to find him mere inches behind her again. �Look, Malfoy -� she began, but he held his hands up and shook his head.
�No, wait,� he interrupted. �I�m sorry, okay? I didn�t mean to imply anything - I just thought he was a lot like that ponce, and I knew you�d remember him because all the girls were ga-ga over him when he was teaching here. I know the Slytherins thought he was the best thing since self-inking quills. I certainly had to listen to Pansy driveling on about him enough, not to mention the older girls swooning every time they came back from a DADA lesson. I just assumed it was the same in Gryffindor, after all girls are girls whatever their house.�
Hermione took a breath. This was surreal. How many times had Malfoy apologized to her this term? He must be going for some kind of a record. �No, it�s okay,� she confessed herself. �I overreacted, because you�re right, I was all ga-ga over him, and it�s awfully embarrassing to think about it now. In fact I try very hard not to.�
�Are you going into the village?� Draco asked. �Was there something you needed to get?�
Hermione looked confused by his question, and shook her head. �No, I thought we were going back to the castle,� she replied.
�Well, it�s just that you�re going in the wrong direction for the stables,� Draco explained pointing back towards the hotel to emphasise his point.
�Oh!� she exclaimed in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing slightly. �Do you want to go into the village?�
Draco�s heart skipped a beat; she was giving him an opportunity to spend more time with her? �Yes, yes, I�d really like that, if you don�t mind,� he replied quickly trying not to seem too eager, and failing.
For a moment he thought Hermione looked pleasantly shocked, but then her smile froze over on her face, and she tensed up slightly. �Okay, well it is quite chilly out now, so I might get a cup of hot chocolate in Madam Puddifoot�s. I could meet you there in forty minutes or so?�
Draco couldn�t help it; his heart sank and he knew a look of disappointment fell over his face. Hermione looked at him closely. �All right, an hour then,� she muttered, �But no longer. It will be dark by then and we will be expected back.� Draco was utterly confused by her behaviour, and it evidently showed on his face. She sighed. �Look, I know we haven�t been able to get into Hogsmeade very often this year, and I�m sure you must miss her, but I really don�t think we can stay out any later, so you better get a move on and go see her -� her? - � because you�re wasting the time you do have. I�ll be down at Madam Puddifoot�s when you�re ready, but if you�re not there in an hour I�m going back to school alone, and I won�t cover for you.�
With that she turned and walked away, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the road wondering what on earth she was talking about. Of course, it came to him momentarily in a blinding flash of revelation. Isabelle! He had told her he had a girlfriend in Hogsmeade last weekend when he was trying to worm his way into her good graces. What an idiot! And now she apparently expected him to nip off and spend an hour having a quick shag �n snog session with aforementioned girlfriend. Had he mentioned what an absolute fucking idiot he was?
What to do? What to do? He sure as damn didn�t intend to waste a chilly hour roaming around the stores of Hogsmeade having an imaginary date with an imaginary girl whilst the only one he really wanted was cozied up nicely by a warm fire alone drinking hot chocolate. Oh, no. He wanted to be there by the fire with her, showing her that he wasn�t the stupid jerk he had been for five years. This was the perfect opportunity to get her alone away from the possibility of interruption by any of those hangers-on of hers, and he�d be buggered if he was going to let it pass him by because of a minor technical hitch. You could tell her the truth, he mused. But no, not yet, it was too soon, and it would just reinforce her poor opinion of him.
Best then, to do as she had told him. He would visit the Apothecary and discover that Isabelle was not there. It was probably a good idea anyway, to find out what Mr Fidenster had to say about the loss of his apprentice and if he knew what had really happened to cause it. A quick meeting and then off to the beckoning environs of Madam Puddifoot�s and a date with the Head Girl.
In line with his intentions, it only took Draco five minutes to check up with Mr Fidentster and discover that considerable financial pressure had been brought to bear ensuring the transfer of Mlle. Giroud to their Diagon Alley store. The proprietor confessed that he had seen an unremarkable blonde teenaged girl involved in what had seemed to be a loud and angry discussion with Isabelle the week before Mr Parkinson had come to the shop and made it impossible for him to refuse to transfer her.
Although, Fidenster went on to add, it did seem to him that Isabelle was fairly happy in her new branch; it was after all just on the doorstep of both wizarding and Muggle London, and there was a lot more for a witch in her twenties to do there than in the sleepy northern backwater which was Hogsmeade. Isabelle was still getting a quality training as she was now apprenticing with Fidenster�s brother-in-law, a highly qualified alchemist in his own right.
All in all, Draco left the apothecary in better spirits than he could have hoped, and his excitement mounted with each step that brought him closer to Hermione alone in the Tea Shop. So it was that he found himself outside of the small building barely ten minutes after he had said goodbye to her. Draco had never actually been into Madam Puddifoot�s before, although he knew of the place. It was the destination of choice for bumbling teenagers feeling their way through a first romance and trying to impress their dates with their romantic side. Before Hermione, Draco had been neither bumbling, romantic or bothered about good impressions.
It was therefore somewhat of a culture shock for him as he pushed open the door and found himself confronted by chintz and flowers and a cloyingly sweet atmosphere he could only describe as twee. He scanned the room quickly looking for the only thing which would have compelled him to enter such a place. He found her sitting alone at a small round café table nursing a large green mug in her cupped hands. - Shit! I�ve got it so bad! - Immediately all his discomfort at being in such a place faded away, and he wondered vaguely if the proprietress, cunning witch, had charmed pheromones into the atmosphere so that those who entered her shop would be instantly enamored of their companions.
He couldn�t even stop the stupid grin from breaking over his face as he made his way over to the table and sat down beside her, causing her to jump in surprise and slosh some of her hot chocolate out of her cup over her left hand.
�Isabelle wasn�t there today. She�s up in Diagon Alley,� he explained his speedy arrival, being economical with the truth. �I�m sorry I startled you. Let me -� Hermione nodded in response to his explanation and his offer to mop up. He lifted her hand from the table and brought it to his mouth where he proceeded to render her speechless and immobile by slowly licking the sticky spilt drink from her fingers.
Hermione felt the rough texture of his tongue as it lapped across the sensitive pads of her finger tips like an electric shock which ran all the way to the ends of her hair and the very tips of her toes. She heard a gargled noise and realised momentarily that she herself had made it. Draco looked up through the fan of his eyelashes at her face; he was barely in any better condition himself. His penis which had been threatening him off and on all afternoon, sprang to attention the moment he picked her hand up, and there is no telling what might have happened next, had Madam Puddifoot herself not appeared at Draco�s elbow asking for his order.
He reluctantly let Hermione�s hand loose and she immediately clutched both arms around her body defensively; Draco turned to face the intruder casually flicking his robes over his lap to avoid any inspection of his trousers. �I�ll have a hot chocolate also,� he requested, aware of the hoarse quality of his voice but unable to control it, �And another for my friend, please. She seems to have spilt hers. Thank you.�
Madam Puddifoot made a note, and quickly produced a damp cloth from somewhere in her apron to clean the spill from the table. An awkward silence fell as she left them alone at the table. Hermione tried to fill it with small talk; Professor Dumbledore and his panel of judges would have been proud of her, she thought, had they heard her magnificent attempt to talk about trivia with the Head Boy. They would have probably exempted her from the 7^th year party social on the spot.
Draco was just happy to be sitting here with her wallowing in the haze of arousal the taste of her fingers had given him. He let her determined efforts at conversation flow over his head; the annoyingly frilly interior of the tea shop was even beginning to feel like the perfect setting for this occasion. He actually had Hermione alone, and there were none of her annoying friends around to interrupt.
Madam Puddifoot returned far too quickly for his liking, and placed new cups of the hot beverage in front of them both. The business of paying for the drinks and exchanging the obligatory pleasantries with the owner, sufficiently brought Draco back to earth for him to realise that he needed to start contributing to the one-sided conversation, and stop daydreaming about his companion.
Whilst he wanted to talk to her about a myriad of different subjects, he deemed it most wise to start with the events of the afternoon, and therefore asked for her suggestions about how to arrange the seating at the dinner to create the minimum possibility of dissention.
They managed to have a lively discussion about how best to mix the four houses up in a manner which would please Professor Dumbledore, and yet still please the victims of his plotting, although by the time Hermione looked at her watch and realised that it was nearly supper time, they had not reached an actual agreement. This made Draco extremely happy; he was prepared to play devil�s advocate for days if he could maneuver Hermione into more meetings and time spent alone with him.
Finally though, she looked out of the window and gasped when she saw how dark it had become. �We�d better get back to school,� she said quickly. �We still have to walk all the way back up to the hotel for the carriage, and it�s hardly light out any more.�
Draco frowned as he too stared out of the window. They both stood and thanked Madam Puddifoot, wrapping their winter robes closely around their shoulders before they set out into the dusk. They had only walked a short way up the road when the sound of hoof beats alerted them to the fact that their coach was approaching them from the direction of the hotel.
�That�s very clever,� Hermione commented. �Professor Dumbledore must have charmed it to come when we needed it.�
Draco grunted; he had been hoping for an opportunity to offer her the added protection of snuggling under his cloak with him as shelter from the cold wind during their walk back to the hotel.
Hermione quickly passed by the thestrals and hopped inside the carriage without giving him a chance to open the door for her. Draco thought quickly and hissed to the creature as he passed it by, �Could you take the long way back around the edge of the lake, please?� He had no idea if the animal had any understanding of his words, but he figured it was worth a try to extend his time alone with his girl.
The carriage had been dim on the way to Hogsmeade in the middle of the day. It was positively black inside now, and as Draco entered Hermione was trying to cast a lighting spell without any success for there did not seem to be any candles or lamps within the interior of the coach. She gave up and cast a lumos spell on the end of her wand as Draco pulled the door shut behind him. She wedged her wand into the seam between her seat and the one next to it to keep it upright, and Draco saw his opportunity.
�Here,� he said helpfully, picking her wand up and replacing it in the corresponding join on the seats opposite. �If you put it over there, it will stop you knocking into it all the time.�
�I suppose so,� Hermione frowned, �But where are you going to sit?�
�I can sit next to you, can�t I?� Draco asked casually. �You don�t have any nasty disfiguring diseases I might catch, do you?�
She just sighed and rolled her eyes at him, and he could have kicked himself for the stupid answer which no doubt reminded her forcefully of all his past comments about the purity or not of her blood. She turned her head away from him and leant against the side of the carriage, staring out of the small window into the darkness, whilst Draco desperately cast around for something innocuous to talk about.
However, after considering and rejecting a host of different subjects, he finally realised that the thestrals seemed to have taken him at his word and were traveling the long way back. He wondered why Hermione had not yet asked why it was taking so long to reach the school, and leant over to see what she was looking at outside in the dark.
It seemed that the combination of little or no sleep the night before whilst she fretted about her breakup with Ron, combined with the warmth inside the swaying carriage and the two cups of hot chocolate - a traditional bedtime drink - had led to Hermione nodding off as she leant against the cushions.
Draco caught his breath and lifted her wand from its position wedged between the seats opposite so that he could study her face in repose. Her lashes lay in dark crescents against her cheeks, and her bottom lip pouted out as she slept. Draco wanted to suck it into his mouth and run his tongue over it.
He would have been happy just watching her all the way back to the castle, but the coach suddenly bumped through a deep rut in the road, making him drop the wand and bouncing Hermione away from the window. He reacted quickly reaching over and catching her against himself so that she did not hit her head against the wall and disturb her rest. Of course, once he had her in his arms he found himself unable to return her gently to her previous position; instead he shifted on the seat so that he was resting his own head back on the opposite side of the carriage with Granger curled against his chest.
Since she had shown no signs of waking up despite the vigorous jolting, he took the chance to indulge his need to touch her; holding her to him with one arm around her body, his fingers resting mere inches from the underside of her breasts, whilst his other hand played with a strand of her hair, curling it around his fingers and bringing it up to press against his lips.
Another bump as the coach hit a pothole on the other side, and Draco braced himself so as not to jolt Hermione again; he did not want her to wake up and put a stop to this. The motion did disturb her however, and she rolled slightly away from him in an action which totally uncontrived by himself, caused her breast to slide into the cup of his palm.
Draco was practically shaking with the indecision of what to do; he was quite well aware that it was not the action of a gentleman to take advantage of Hermione whilst she was sleeping. He had already probably crossed quite a few lines just by taking her into his arms before. To take the opportunity to feel her up whilst she was oblivious almost smacked of a Death Eater mentality; something he tried to avoid at all costs. But he was weak and he wanted her so much it was driving him to ever stupider and riskier behaviour. His hand ached with the effort not to play with her little pebbled nipples which he could feel pressing right into the centre of his palm. He groaned and hit his head backwards against the cushion a couple of times to knock some sense into himself. If she was to wake up now and catch him groping her, she would no doubt hex his balls into the middle of next year.
As if in response to his own moans, he heard Hermione mumble something into his chest and he regained enough control to bend closer and try work out if she was waking up and getting ready to defend her honour. However, he was dumbfounded to hear as she continued her mutterings, �Don�t stop�feels so good,� and he froze in utter disbelief as her own hand suddenly clamped tightly over his and pressed it harder against her breast even as her body instinctively pushed upwards into the caress.
There was no chance of his resisting now; the effect of her erotic whispers was instant and uncontrollable. The erection he had been fighting ever since he licked the chocolate off her fingers sprang up hot and hard in his trousers, and he could feel the swaying motion of the coach causing it to rub against her hip bone with the angle at which she lay alongside him. Her hand was still on his guiding it against her nipple until he gave up all common sense and began rolling the hardened point between his thumb and forefinger. She mumbled again and he strained his ears to hear, �Mmm, please - touch me�� she was squirming herself now causing even more friction against his arousal. He wanted to obey her; his willing fingers moved briefly downwards to slip beneath the hem of her jumper - it was Saturday and she wore weekend clothes - to slide back up the silky bare skin of her middle until there was nothing separating him from his goal but a scrap of satin underwear.
He was shaking all over by now. Oh, Merlin, I�m going to come in my pants, he thought suddenly, as her restless movements caused more friction against his already bursting penis, thrusting hard against it and pushing him rapidly to the edge of his control. He could feel his testicles tightening up and swelling with the immense quantity of his cum which needed release, and seconds later he was ejaculating helplessly into the confines of his trousers.
He trembled with the effort of holding still and keeping quiet though his massive climax, but he must have failed for suddenly Hermione gasped out quite clearly, �No, Draco -� and her eyes flew open to stare owlishly right into his own dilated pupils. There was no disguising the fact that he still had a hand up her jumper, and as the realisation hit her she gasped and stumbled inelegantly away from him until she was huddled on the seat opposite, staring at him in shock.
Draco was still unable to move for his cock continued to empty violently into his pants. Hermione�s fallen wand was casting out light, but from where it now lay on the floor of the coach halfway under the seat the light was more diffused, overlaying the interior with shadows and he thanked Merlin for small mercies because it might just save him from her realisation of what his body was currently doing.

*******
Oooh. Evil cliffy, but it was just getting too long to do justice to Hermione�s reaction to this little episode!!
Thank you all for still managing to review through all the ups and downs on AFF. I just wanted to say something about the Quidditch score. I hadn�t realised it would cause such upset amongst you, and I admit I didn�t check the scoring method, which is odd because I am usually so anal about that. I sit with two complete sets of the books (paperback and hardback) right beside my desk, and whenever I need to check a plot point I grab the relevant book (and normally end up reading it for several chapters and not getting on with what I am supposed to be doing). Or I nip over to the Harry Potter Lexicon for a quicker check.
But for some reason, I didn�t check up on the scoring for the simple reason that I liked that score, and there you have it. There is no other reason than I liked the way it looked! But I will get around to changing it one day if it bothers everyone so much!
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