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Don\'t Say a Word	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 8320 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Still poor, Still don't own Harry Potter. I guess some things never change.

Chapter List
- 1-Don't Say a Word
- 1
A/N: Inspired, however loosely by Don't Say a Word by David Cook, and written as a Christmas Gift.

This is my first time writing het since, what? The nineties? :) Still, it was kind of fun. I don't know that I've ever written these two characters, and as Draco is a whiny prat, and Hermione is an irritating know-it-all, I'm sure you can understand how hard it was to beat them into submission! I do think I may have managed it, but as it's my first time writing these two chars (at least as anything more than a side note) try to be gentle if my characterizations are off, yeah?

Yes, I have a mailing list (though I write slash almost exclusively). If you want more information anyway, check my profile.

Don't Say A Word

'Figures.'

Hermione hated the rain. Her hair was frizzy enough without unnecessary precipitation making matters worse, so, naturally, on a day where the weather witch was predicting nothing but fog, the sky opened up. Even in the magical community, the weatherman was always wrong. Go figure.

On the up side, she'd remembered to expand her handbag, so her recent shopping spree at Flourish and Blotts was safely tucked away in seven inches of blue crotchet. On the down side, the one thing she'd forgotten to pack was an umbrella. A barrier charm might do for a light drizzle, but wouldn't be of much use against the fist-sized raindrops pelting her. The heavens certainly seemed angry about something.

She did the only sensible thing she could under the circumstances; she ran. If she remembered correctly, just a few feet up there was an old floo. She'd used it once or twice in the past, but after the war they'd taken all the damage as excuse enough to remodel the Alley, and this floo was no longer connected to the network. They'd not bricked it over yet, as of the last time she was here. She hoped that was still the case because she could scarcely see four inches in front of her face in this downpour.

She slammed herself into the alcove too abruptly, and grit her teeth against what was going to be a hard collision with the wall.

“Oof.”

Hermione paused, blinked. That wasn't so bad, actually. Wait a second, did the wall just grunt?

She blinked up, pushing her sopping hair back from her eyes, and went cold. “You!”

“You could at least apologize,” Draco muttered, lowering his wand and making efforts to push his freshly dried hair back into some semblance of order. It wasn't easy. This floo was too small. He'd nearly clocked his head on the top of it a few moments ago when he was ducking into it for shelter from the rain. It had fallen into disuse precisely for that reason. Modern floos were less cramped, and tall men like himself wouldn't use this dusty old thing with a newer model right across the street. He'd snubbed this floo dozens of times. Now he was stuck cramped into it until the summer storm died down. As if that wasn't bad enough alone, Hermione Granger, of all bloody people, was three inches from his chest.

“Ow!” Hermione protested when his elbow collided with her shoulder in his efforts to tidy up. “Just leave it! Who are you trying to impress, anyway?”

“Certainly not you!” Draco snapped back over the rain. He felt like he had to holler just to be heard.

“And thank heavens for that,” Hermione hollered back.

That was the problem with yelling. It was contagious.

“There's no need to shout, you crass bitch!” Draco snipped back. “I'll push you back out there to fend for yourself.”

“You will not.”

“Oh, won't I?” Draco sneered.

“You don't have the balls,” Hermione taunted.

Of all the nerve! Who did this girl think she was?! With her hair plastered to her forehead and her shirt clinging to her so indecently she was actually going to make cracks about his manhood? She couldn't be serious! There was wasn't room enough with the two of them in here to straighten his hair, so there certainly wasn't room enough to swish a wand for a drying spell without taking out someone's eye in the process, and she was in more desperate need of one than he was. Even if it was Granger, he was still a man. He couldn't help but notice the gingham pattern of her bra through the cheap cotton blouse, and it was distracting. He knew he had to think fast. He had to defend his manhood!

“I'm surprised you even know what they are, with a Weasley being your only point of reference,” he spat.

Hermione took a deep breath. Draco winced. It was a well known sign around Hogwarts. He was about to get an earful.

“Ron and I aren't like that and anyway it's none of your business and even if we were it would still be none of your business but I'm sure his are bigger than yours in any case because he's a decent human being and you're just a coward and I'm sure if you're cowardly enough for long enough they must shrivel up and die and you definitely fit that description considering you were given every possible opportunity to turn his life around ran away with your tail between your legs even at the very end when you actually could have made something of yourself you just AAAGGGHHH! Why am I even talking to you? It's not like you listen you never do you're such a pompous arse but you can't actually do anything can you? You couldn't stand up to Voldemort. You were too much of a coward to even stand up to your own father who really wasn't all so tough as he made himself out to be. It must be genetic.”

Draco blinked. He only made out bits and pieces of that run on sentence. She must have incredible lungs if she could hold her breath so long. He did make out the important bits, though, that she and Ron weren't a couple, and that she was calling him a coward. “What's jentik? Is that some muggle thing?” Why? Of all the things he should have said at that moment to defend his honor, why had that been what came out of his mouth? Damn curiosity. Damn it straight to hell.

Hermione sighed, her rage diminishing to almost nothing. She wanted to laugh, really, but she wouldn't give this smug bastard the satisfaction. It was bad enough that they were in this situation. He always left her feeling so frustrated. It had been years now, and she felt like a normal adult most days, with a successful job that kept her comfortable and left her with enough spending money to stock up on all the latest advanced study guides and even the occasional guilty pleasure of fiction. But, then she would run into Malfoy, and it was like she was still a schoolgirl, an aggravated, angry schoolgirl. “Genetic. G-E-N-E-T-I-C. It means certain traits are in the blood.”

“Hn. Now you're talking like a pureblood.”

“I am not! It's just science. Proven facts. It's the reason we look the way we do, or are predisposed to certain diseases or...”

“Granger, enough. I don't particularly care about muggle studies.”

“Pity. As I recall, you did quite well in the subject.”

“Don't remind me. I only took the bloody class because it was the only thing that fit into my schedule. I spent the entire semester hiding my exam scores. When Father found them he was furious. I was grounded all summer for doing so well. It's just that muggles are so simple-minded, they aren't very hard to figure out.” He defended himself.

Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed. “Only you would get irritated over good grades.” She would even ignore the bit about muggles being simple-minded, just this once.

“Well, of course I'm irritated. I was supposed to spend that summer overseas, and instead I was locked up in my room being 're-educated' on the subject of muggles fifteen hours a day.”

The conversation had suddenly turned serious. She knew very well what 're-educated' meant among Death Eaters, and that punch she'd given him in third year was nothing by comparison. “I...”

“Don't say it. It's nothing to do with you. My life is my own, and I've made my choices. We all have.”

“You could have made some better ones,” Hermione said. “If not during school, then after. We could have...”

Draco cut her off with a bitter laugh. “Could have what? All gotten along and lived happily ever after? You've been reading too many novels. It's turned your brain to mush. Pity, your brain was the most attractive thing about you.”

“Why you!”

Draco cut her off again. “You're only angry because you know I'm right. I won't deny I made poor choices, but they were the only sensible ones to make at the time. I could never have fit in with you lot, so whether I agreed with what was happening or not, I had to go along with it. It was my only chance to stay alive. Even after the Dark Lord fell, it was still my only chance. If I am an outcast in London now, at least I am still breathing, and that is more than I can say for a good number of our classmates.”

“Self-preservation at it's finest,” Hermione replied. “You would never have made it in Gryffindor.”

“Then it is a good thing I am a Slytherin. I am proud of my house. I do not feel that cunning is something I need be ashamed of. It is unfortunate that the traits which make us enterprising also have a darker side the likes of which came to fruition during our school years, but coins have two sides. Slytherin or Gryffindor doesn't make a difference – there are good things and bad things alike in the traits that old hat cites in its silly little song.”

“Still, you have to admit, Slytherins seem a bit more prone to the latter than the rest,” Hermione argued.

Draco had a feeling she was arguing the point just to get in the last word. He didn't want to let her. He gave her a flat look and said, “One bad apple ruins the bunch.”

“So you say, but I know several people who would claim that you were that bad apple, Draco.”

“Several people can kiss my arse,” Draco huffed. “I was a kid. Kids are stupid.” He moved to cross his arms petulantly, but forgot their close proximity and his hand brushed across her chest. She gasped, but he didn't quite realize what he was touching at first. When he did, his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. His pride didn't take well to apologies, even when he was in the wrong, so the words to do so abandoned him. “Granger, I...”

“Shut up,” she said. “Just move your hand, or you'll be the one getting tossed out in the rain.”

“Bit of a prude, eh? No wonder you couldn't even get Weasley.” Even as the words came out, Draco wondered why he said them. He didn't mean them. He said things he didn't particularly mean to this woman quite a lot, actually. He wondered why that was for a moment, as she stared up at him, enraged, and then it clicked. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. It was first year logic. He hated to think he still had the emotional capacity of an eleven year old, but there was no way to argue it. It was obvious. He liked getting her riled up, because when she was riled up, he knew she wasn't thinking about anyone but him. He could never admit that to himself, because before, he wasn't in control of his own life. Now, with the war over, nobody could really say anything. His parents were walking on eggshells to stay out of Azkaban as it was. They couldn't risk taking any unnecessary chances, not even with their own son. He'd never felt more free in his life. 'I'm such an idiot. All along, I've only had eyes for this annoying, stubborn, frizzy-haired know-it-all.'

The rage in her eyes told him he wasn't going to win any points with that first year plan of attack, though. She was about to say something that he was sure would work him into a rage of his own, and as he'd just had an epiphany, he had to stop that from happening. Since he couldn't bring himself to say he was sorry, his plan of attack was obvious.

He kissed her.

He suddenly pushed her back against the wall and crushed his lips down upon hers. It was not the most graceful kiss. She was shocked, and it was cramped, and all he could really do was hold her in place and keep at it until she responded so he wouldn't look like a fool. He was starting to think he would need to stop to breathe before she gave in. It was just as he thought that, it happened. Her shoulders relaxed a bit and her lips became more pliant.

He decided at that first hint of interest to see just how far he could take it, and tried to ply her lips open with his tongue. She let him. 'Brilliant!' It was. He'd not been with anyone in ages. He was practically a leper as far as the magical community was concerned. Even if they mostly only argued, just to be able to talk with someone again had been nice. Kissing was better though. It really was so very much better. The floo, also, seemed notably larger when he wasn't trying so hard not to brush against her wet blouse.

Speaking of which, he unfastened the top few buttons and slipped his hand inside, over the satiny fabric of her plaid bra, and gave a squeeze.

'What am I doing!?' Hermione thought. 'And for that matter, what is he doing?!' As smart as she was, there were some things it was impossible to understand, like why he was kissing her, and why his hand was inside of her blouse, and why she was letting him. Why she liked it. Oh, it was true enough that he was a brilliant kisser, but was that really a reason to let him do battle with her tongue and fondle her chest?! 'What am I doing?!' But, it was exciting, really, being touched like this. She felt hyper aware of the pouring rain, of the incredibly public place where she now had one of her breasts hanging out on display. 'When did he..?'

He was cunning enough to know that there were times when cunning did no one any good. In fact, there were times when thinking only got in the way. He didn't think about pulling down her bra strap and tugging her cup out of the way. He didn't think about scooping the breast out and rolling it in the palm of his hand, or about dragging his thumb over and around the nipple. He thought she was a surprisingly good kisser, though, which made him wonder what else she might be good at. And, right after that, he thought about the fact she was wearing a skirt today. He didn't, however, think at all when he hiked it up over her hips, and certainly wasn't thinking when he blindly unfastened his fly.

“D-Draco!”

“Shut up,” Draco replied. “If you didn't want it, you'd have told me to stop before this.” He swallowed her mouth in another kiss.

Hermione knew he was right. She did want it, and she didn't know if it was the mere fact that she'd been feeling a little lonely, with all her friends having that special someone when she was alone, or if it was the fact that it was Draco Malfoy, who was really rather fit, that was making her behave in such an uncharacteristic fashion. He'd always made her a little crazy. Hadn't she just been furious at him about something? What had it been? Whatever it was, it certainly didn't matter now, as he lifted her legs. The floo was small enough that she could brace her feet on the wall behind him rather more easily than trying to wrap them around his hips without her knee crunching into the brick wall. He tugged her panties roughly to one side. She blushed as he slid his fingers through her moisture.

“This wet already?” Draco purred against her lips.

“Don't get cocky. It's just been a while, nothing to do with you,” Hermione snipped, not willing to give him the satisfaction of admitting how much she wanted him.

“That so? I'll see what I can do to change that.”

She was such an infuriating woman! Why couldn't she just admit she wanted him? It was obvious, anyway. She wasn't the easy sort of woman who would let just anyone in between her thighs. He didn't believe for a moment that anyone would do. Why did she have to say that? It just made him think of her being intimate with other men, and that infuriated him. He wanted to show her that no one would ever fit inside of her the way he could.

In retrospect, he probably should have been more gentle, slid in slowly. As it was, she got him so riled up, between her body and her sharp tongue, that what he'd really done was force a bruising kiss upon her to shut her up and ram forcefully into her. He should have given her time to adjust, but he just started drilling her like he was some kind of wild beast. He didn't know what had come over him. He wasn't normally like this. It was just that something about Hermione Granger made him go mad, always had, likely always would. And besides, she felt so good, and her moans were so delicious, and her breasts so soft, her nipples so responsive, that there was simply no way, in this situation, that he could go easy on her. He wanted to make her sore. He wanted to make her limp home, and remember the feel of him aching in her body for days. He wanted to remember if he'd remembered the contraceptive spell, too, but his mind was too blurred by the scent and taste of her to care particularly whether or not he ended up a father for his overzealous and incredibly reckless behavior. Anyway, it would be her own fault. He didn't think she'd actually let him get his hand in her shirt when he tried at it, but she didn't protest. He couldn't be blamed for acting like a man when she'd invited it like that.

Hermione clutched at the shoulders of Draco's expensive suit. She wriggled in delight as much as her current position would allow. He was, oooooh! He was so good! He thrust hard and fast, deep into the pit of her belly. Her head was spinning. No one had ever made her so..so... “O-oooohhh!!!!” No one had ever made her come so fast. They'd only been at it a few short minutes, but she was burning up. She completely forgot their surroundings, and the part of her that remembered them was excited by them. It was positively filthy, and that's what made it so appealing. She'd always been strict about following the rules, but it was when she broke them that she felt the most alive. Having sex with a man she swore she hated in a floo right on Diagon Alley, where, were it not for the heavy rain, they would be in very clear view of passers by – that was certainly against every rule she knew. As his hot release pulsed into her, she wondered, quite belatedly, if he'd remembered the contraceptive spell. She didn't think he had, and she'd not thought to remind him. It was far too late to do anything about it, now. He was already lowering her legs to the ground. The wall of the floo was the only thing keeping her upright as he fixed her panties and skirt.

She couldn't help but notice he stared at her chest a bit too long before, quite reluctantly, remedying the debauched state of her blouse.

None of this startled her as much as the kiss he gave her after she was properly attired again. It was soft and slow – a lovers' kiss – not the kiss of two adults who just happened to be horny and stranded in an antiquated floo on Diagon Alley.

Kiss after kiss after kiss. Draco didn't know why they were still kissing. They'd already finished up a brillant shag. He told himself it was just passing the time until the rain let up, but as he thought it, he realized he didn't hear anything. He pulled back and blinked at the sunlight breaking through the clouds. “...it's stopped raining.”

“It stopped several minutes ago. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice,” Hermione replied languidly.

The sleepy tone of voice just made him want to shag her again. He frowned pensively, considering. “I've an appointment tonight that I can't cancel.”

“And?” Hermione asked, as if she wasn't sure what that had to do with her.

“I'm free tomorrow night, though. So you should come by for dinner.”

Hermione felt her heart pound in her chest. Why? Why for him? “Not if your house elves are cooking,” she said firmly.

Draco sighed. “Still obsessed with house elf rights, are you? I will have you know, I only have the one elf now, and when I asked her if she wanted me to set her free, the jittery thing burst into tears, and bothered me about what she'd done to disappoint me for weeks. Regardless, I suppose I can suffer take away for the night. You can't expect me to do the cooking if you actually expect it to be edible. In any case, dinner will be at seven thirty. Don't be late.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was impossible. He probably always would be. Even so... “Well, I guess if you're that completely helpless on your own, I'll come at six thirty, and I'll cook for us myself,” she said stubbornly.

Draco stepped out into the sunshine and stretched. After the rain, it really was quite a beautiful day. He turned his gaze over his shoulder at the disheveled young woman. “Your hair looks like a crow's nest,” he remarked.

“You've no business talking about my hair until you've had a look at yours,” Hermione retorted. Honestly! Couldn't he be nice for more than two minutes at a time?

Draco immediately started trying to flatten his hair into some semblance of order. Hermione laughed. He was so neurotic about appearances, but he would still have at a woman in such a public place, with only the rain to protect their modesty. 'There might just be a tiny little sliver of Gryffindor in you after all, Draco Malfoy.' She knew better than to tell him so, though. He'd never forgive her for suggesting it. She took pity on his hair disaster and pulled her wand. “Here, let me,” she said.

He conceded, if only very reluctantly. “Granger.”

“Hm...”

“Feel free to bring along an overnight bag.”

Hermione blushed. “Oh, think you're going to get lucky, do you?” she postured, glad her tone sounded confident, because her stomach was tied in knots. Something was starting. She wasn't sure what it was.

Draco shrugged. “Well, I suppose you're not a prude after all,” he said with a devilish smile. “That much of what I said, I take back. You've proven me wrong on something. You must be elated.”

“I'll prove your wrong on lots of other things, too!” Hermione declared. Who did this jerk think he was?! Prude, indeed!

Draco actually chuckled. “I'm looking forward to it,” he replied.

As she watched him walk off, Hermione wondered what she'd gotten herself into. A dinner date with Draco Malfoy? Surely, she'd gone mad. It was going to be a disaster! Then again, even if dinner was a disaster, dessert was bound to make up for it.

She looked up at the brightening sky. Hermione had always hated the rain, but it wasn't raining now. In fact, it was turning out to be a really beautiful day, and she had the rain to thank for it.

The End.
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Don\'t Say a Word