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Squirm	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 28992 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
I've been fighting a pretty severe sinus infection, so I hope this is still up to par.
~A.
She's awake. I can feel her stir next to me on loveseat as the first rays of light peek through the curtains of her tiny loft. All night I've been here. She fell asleep hours ago, her head resting on my lap. Last night we did nothing physical. I have to say, the sexual portion of me is disappointed on a primal level, but the rest of me craved this kind of remedial chatter about work and hopes and aspirations. I never know what to expect when it comes to Hermione Granger, and this evening's been no different.
"Draco?"
"Present."
One eye pries open, and then the other, and now she stares up at me with a soothing smile. "You stayed."
"And?" I ask expectantly, unsure of why she's so surprised. I'm entirely at her mercy now, and I can only hope she ends me swiftly. I am weak, like a puddle of mud beneath her shoe, giving way to the weight of her chocolate brown eyes and cinnamon curls. The irony of that thought isn't lost on me, considering I've called her mudblood for a better part of both our lives. Now, it seems those dirty veins can do nothing but stain my tainted heart with her goodness.
"And…" She wipes the sleep from her eyes and shifts against my lap, resting her cheek against my lower stomach. "I'm just glad you're here."
My heart seizes. "Are you?"
"Did I stutter?"
I smirk. "No, you didn't." My eyes drift over to the fire, contemplating what all of it means. Hermione Granger, muggleborn and magical creature rights activist, has a soft spot in her heart for me. I can't wrap my head around it, no matter how many times I mull it over in my head. There's been a few times in these twilight hours where I thought about falling asleep along with her, but I much prefer to watch her sleep. The face she makes when she's resting… one couldn't put a price on it.
"Where do you go?"
I glance back down to her. "What?"
"Sometimes you fade away inside your mind and leave me here. I wanted to know where you went when you did."
"Who's to say I'm not always with you?"
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me." Her lower lip juts out, and she pouts like I used to (and, sometimes, still do.)
I feel hesitant about my next words but say them anyway. I don't enjoy lying to her.
"Hermione, if you understood what was inside my head, I guarantee you, you would go back to Weasley in an instant."
"Draco, I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."
"You think so?"
"Of course." She leans upright, her arms on my legs to prop herself up. Our faces are dangerously close, now. I'm fighting off the urge to wrap my slender fingers around her throat as she says, "Something is bothering you."
Only my persistent mental ticks that want me to throw her down to the floor and have my way with her. "Nothing's wrong, Hermione. I'm fine." I put on my most charming smile and stroke her cheek with the pad of my thumb. "The only thing I'm thinking about is you."
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, she rests her head on my shoulder and kisses just under my jaw. "Alright, Draco. I trust you."
My throat, my shoulders, my arms -they all tense at once at her words.
She trusts me?
She trusts me.
How can she trust me when I can't begin to trust myself?
"P-please… I'll do whatever you say… j-just-"
I hold the knife at my side, polishing it against the fabric of my sleeve. Holding the knife so dangerously against my arm is exhilarating, but it doesn't compare to the feeling of Hermione's bare flesh against mine. I'm beginning to notice the nuances in my thought patterns. Even now, with this man tied to the table, it doesn't satisfy me the way it once did.
"-You want money? No. U-Um… women? I can get you women!"
My eyes flicker upward, meeting my victim's eyes. I can tell he's trying. Good for him. It won't change his fate.
"What the fuck do you want?!"
I lean forward, giving him a predatory smirk as I inhale the scent of his fear. "Atonement."
Knock. Knock. KNOCK.
"Excuse me -you can't just barge in-"
"-Auror business," a gruff voice mumbles, pushing my office door open and disrupting my afternoon ritual of pretending to work when really I'm thinking of all the sexy outfits I'd love to see Hermione in for Valentine's Day. My gray eyes meet the steadfast glare of Ron Weasley, determination set in his tone as he stalks across the room. "Malfoy, we gotta talk. Now."
"Do you have an appointment?" I raise a singular eyebrow, commanding authority over the room.
"Appointment? I don't bloody need an appointment, you slimy git."
"Actually, you do." I set my quill down and fold my hands across my desk, attempting my most pleasant tone. I know how it will get under his skin. "And don't think of using your Auror credentials against me, Weasley. You and I both know you retired last year."
His blue eyes narrow, and his lankish body throws itself into the chair reserved for guests -of which he is not. Just a primordial speck of dirt which flitted into the room by its own accord. "What are y'doing with 'Mione?"
"Nothing -at the moment. You're welcome to search my office, however, if it sates your curiosity."
"You know that's not what I mean. Hermione says you two are… together."
"And?"
"And?" His voice cracks an octave. "You're kidding me, right? And you're no good for her, that's what!"
"I think she's entitled to make her own decisions, don't you?" I drawl, putting adequate displeasure in my voice. "And her name is Hermione. Not 'Mione."
Weasley's face turns the color of a fresh tomato. "Merlin! What the Hell does she see in a prat like you?"
"You mean besides my obvious good looks, charm, and countless fortune?"
"She doesn't give a flying turnip about fortune! 'Mione's better than all that!"
"Weasley, calm yourself."
"Or what? You gonna have one of your cronies 'escort' me out the door?" He snorts a laugh.
Schoolboy Draco relished these kinds of verbal tit for tat, but the Draco I am now only wants to take Weasley's tongue and shove it so far up his arse he can taste his entrails. "Better. I'll escort you out myself." I push myself up to stand, and Weasley does the same. We are two bated sharks, smelling the blood in the water and looking for the weakness it stems from. "Hermione's made her choice, Weasley. Unless you'd like to find your head quite literally shoved up your arse, I highly recommend leaving my office."
"You don't scare me, Malfoy."
"I should." My smirk drops from my face, as do my pretenses. "Stay the Hell out of our relationship, Weasley."
"Relationship? Is that what you're calling it?"
"What else would it be?"
"A perversion of nature."
"No, Weasel-bee. That's reserved for the day you were born."
Weasley rolls his eyes, kicking back the guest chair and scooting it a few feet behind him. "You think I don't see it, but I do. There's something seriously wrong with you, Malfoy. And I'm gonna find out what it is."
"By all means," I bow mockingly, extending my arm toward the door, "But in the meantime, I highly recommend you make like Hermione's feelings for you and disappear."
"Fucking Malfoys." Weasley takes his leave, slamming my office door behind him. I pretend it doesn't bother me, even when my secretary comes in apologizing profusely and making a fuss over her failure. I agree with her -she is one, but I have appearances to keep, so I simply dock her a day's pay and warn her that if it happens again, she will be fired.
When I'm alone in my office once more, I lock the door and begin to pace.
Tension builds in my fingertips and in my forearms. I can feel the inner demon within me screaming to come out, to hunt down Weasley, to give him a piece of my mind and my knife. How dare he come in and parade himself around as the protective boyfriend? Their relationship is finished. Good riddance. The deader, the better.
No. No… Weasley is an important jigsaw in Hermione's world. He's not next on my list, or even anywhere near my list at all. He's just an annoying mosquito who I mustn't squish, less it upset the animal-rights-activist Hermione Jean Granger.
Still, I don't like the idle threats made by Weasley all the same. If he were to figure out my secret, he could ruin me.
But I can't kill him.
But I can't let him run around and build any suspicions against me, especially when things are just starting to go my way.
Fuck. I'm certainly in a pickle, aren't I?
I'll see how this develops for now, but…
I scratch my scalp, trying so hard to be good. Fuck, how to normal people survive day to day?
More to come, of course. Darker. Deadlier. Sexier.
~A.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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