Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Dance in the Dark	By : MeakoXIII Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 23817 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Lady Gaga's song Dance in the Dark. I make no money off this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Dance in the Dark
- 1
Dance In The Dark
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Harry Potter.   I don’t own the song Dance in the Dark by Lady Gaga. I make no money off this songfic.
A/N: This was/is inspired by Lady Gaga’s Dance in the Dark, obviously. I chose not to put the lyrics in, as I personally think they detract from the flow of the story. Also, no magic, but they all go to the same boarding school in Scotland, called Hogwarts! =)
--- --- --- ---
The club was already packed even though it was only ten. The music was blaring, the bass throbbing through minds and bodies, and the alcohol was flowing freely to everyone with a halfway decent ID. A table in the far corner, as far away from the music as you could be and still be in the club, held a group of rather unusual looking acquaintances. The group was large and evenly split between men and women. They were all barely legal and away from their stuffy private school on holiday before exams. It was their last year, and they all wanted to go out with a bang.
They usually never agreed on much of anything, especially the four core men, the roguish blond with piercing grey eyes, a tall redhead with an athletic build and charming blue eyes, a lean Italian with a disarming smile and the ability to charm nearly everything female out of her skirts, and finally a quiet black-haired man with unusually somber green eyes and a strange scar on his forehead, courtesy of the car crash that killed his parents. The blond and Italian were best mates, as were the redhead and the brunet. Any female member of the school knew that they were the most popular in school, and that they hated the opposing group with a passion.
It was the women that had drawn up the plan for tonight. The unofficial mastermind behind tonight’s excursion was a willowy blonde woman, known to her friends and everyone else as a little awkward, but usually lovable. She had brought the idea to a thin black-haired woman with an unfortunate-looking pug nose and the school’s resident bookworm, an average-looking woman with long brown curls that she was finally able to manage with the bare minimum of control. They had coordinated between themselves and guilted, nagged, harped on, and otherwise tricked the men into agreeing to come to the club tonight.
Unfortunately, things hadn’t gone smoothly once they were there. Pansy Parkinson sighed loudly enough to be heard over the music and sourly stirred her drink. “Honestly, Draco, we didn’t come here just to glare at one another. Let’s dance!”
The blonde in question raised one perfect eyebrow and gestured out to the dance floor, already crowded with sweaty, gyrating bodies. “Be my guest, Parkinson. I’m sure you’ll find a willing partner out there somewhere.”
She huffed and downed the rest of her drink, shuddering at the taste. “Remind me to get something different next time. Blaise, then.” She held out her hand imperiously to the Italian and he shrugged before leading her out to the floor. That seemed to be the signal and couples began leaving the table.
Soon there were only six people left, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger. Luna and Neville had come together but neither enjoyed crowds or dancing in public, so they had volunteered to stay and guard the table as well as stay sober for the night. Luna was a year younger and so couldn’t legally drink, even though nearly everyone had offered to get her a fake ID. “What, Weasley, not going to dance with your girlfriend?” Draco sneered at the redhead.
Ron shrugged, well into his third drink of the hour. “Hermione doesn’t dance.”
The woman in question felt the incredulous gaze of her periodic tormenter and tried to dismiss it. She knew what was coming, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Hermione Granger, the top student in all our classes since day one, has something she doesn’t do? Does that mean you can’t dance, Granger?” His voice was silky smooth and teasing, not at all mean like he usually was, but Hermione figured it was coming.
“I suppose that is what it means, Malfoy. Ron, you can go and dance if you want. I don’t want you to be bored just because of me.” She turned sweet brown eyes on her boyfriend of nearly a year, internally sighing as he finished his drink and held up his glass to signal for another.
“If that’s what you want, ‘Mione. You’ll be okay here with the Ferret?” His blue eyes returned to her when his glass was refilled.
She managed a brave smile for him. “I’ve got Luna and Neville here with me. Besides, I doubt he’ll do anything so evil in public.”
“Alright then. Harry, up for it?”
The green-eyed man blinked owlishly as his attention returned to his friends. He had been watching a sultry brunette in the tiniest skirt and shirt he had ever seen, and while she had been grinding up against the man behind her, her eyes had been locked onto his. “Yup.” He downed his drink and went over to join the dancing couple. He soon had the woman’s hands on his ass and his lips locked on hers while he ran his hands through the mystery man’s hair. His night suddenly seemed much more promising.
Ron nodded before getting lost in the mass of hormones and humanity in the middle of the club.
“You really can’t dance, Granger?” Draco’s attention had never strayed from the brunette. He knew that the Weasley wasn’t the best boyfriend in the world, but it was strange to him that he didn’t even try and kiss her before leaving the table. Not that he cared, of course, but suddenly the bookworm looked like a woman to him. Her eyes had some sort of smoky color on the lids, accenting the dark lashes and deep brown eyes. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the heat and the alcohol, and her lips glistened in the dim light. And they were very kissable lips, too.
She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. “What if I can’t, Malfoy? Is that a crime where you come from?” she asked lazily, eyes on his. Her heart was hammering in her chest as those cool steel eyes met hers, but suddenly they seemed hot rather than cold, and she felt a thousand degrees warmer than the was before. She knew that Draco Malfoy was attractive, Lord the entire female population of the school couldn’t stop talking about his eyes or hair or those abs, or whatever the new gossip was, but she had never noticed before now. Suddenly she felt very female and very foolish and very uncertain. If he somehow caught on to her unexpected reaction she would never live it down.
Her relationship with Ron wasn’t all that she thought it would be when she had lain in her dorm bed and fantasized about it. He was supposed to be caring and loving and treat her like the most amazing woman he had ever met. For a while it had been that way, and she had thrived on the attention and care. She had felt her confidence bloom and her insecurities fade away, leaving her feeling like an adult for the first time. It all changed the night she gave her virginity to him. Little things at first, complaining when she spent more time studying than hanging out with him, or when she slept in her own bed rather than his or didn’t let him into hers, but as time passed things got worse. Suddenly her sweet and gentle boyfriend was gone, replaced with someone more demanding and less attentive to her needs than before. He criticized her performance in bed, called her cold when she failed to respond to his touch. She shuddered at one memory, of the night he had rushed things so horribly and she had barely been damp when he thrust inside. She had cried out that time, but not from pleasure.
She thrust those thoughts away and focused on the present again. Luna and Neville had gone up to the bar to get some water and soda, leaving the two rivals alone.
“Actually, it very nearly is. I did grow up in high society, after all, whereas you, Granger, are merely the daughter of dentists. I should have expected it, actually.” Draco relished the anger he saw on her face. It was preferable to the despair he had seen only a moment before. Clearly there was more to the story than he knew.
“Just because my family isn’t the titled with some lofty estate that doesn’t mean we’re paupers, Malfoy. Obviously we’re wealthy enough to afford the tuition to Hogwarts, or did you forget that there are no scholarships?” she tossed back haughtily.
He had forgotten, but that was neither here nor there. “Then prove it.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you don’t live a pauper’s life, prove that you can dance.”
She laughed in his face. “In this place? I doubt everyone would clear out for a waltz or the tango, Malfoy. Maybe you should lay off whatever it is you’ve been drinking.”
He shook his head. “Dance with me, Granger.” He didn’t wait for her agreement or argument and instead grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the floor. They were in the middle of a fairly tight group of complete strangers, each lost to the throbbing music and rhythm. He placed her arms around his neck and put his hands on her hips, finally noticing that she was wearing rather revealing clothes. Who would have thought that Granger actually had a body? And a nice one at that. Her hips were rounded and feminine, outlined perfectly by the tight pants she was wearing. Strappy sandals glittered on her small feet, flat for comfort and convenience rather than heeled for looks and height. Her top was tight around her breasts and cut just low enough to show a hint of cleavage and leave her midriff bare, with sleeves that flowed down her arms loosely. Her shoulders were bare and her hair was up, showing the graceful arch of her neck off to everyone with a pair of working eyes.
The song changed to a slower, more intimate one made for close dancing and sultry movements. He swayed in time with her, mentally sighing at the stiffness he felt in her whole body. “Granger, you need to relax for this to work at all.”
She rolled her eyes and frowned up at him. “How exactly am I supposed to relax, Malfoy? It’s you dancing with me. This shouldn’t be relaxing for either of us. This probably shouldn’t be happening at all.”
He shrugged and pulled her closer, one hand running up the length of her spine subconsciously. “Just close your eyes and pretend I’m someone else, then.”
She snorted rather rudely. “I’d still know it was you, idiot. Besides, who else would I imagine?” She cursed her loose tongue even as the words slipped out. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, mentally cringing for the onslaught to come.
Draco suppressed a sudden flare of pure rage. Her relationship with the Weasel was definitely a bad one if she didn’t want to imagine dancing with him, rather than facing the reality of dancing with her schoolyard bully. “I dunno. Well then, may as well call me Draco. I don’t particularly care for dancing with someone who still calls me by my last name.”
She shivered at the thought of calling him something so intimate and didn’t notice that she had relaxed into his grip or that her fingers were now playing with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “Draco,” she tested, perversely loving the way the name tasted on her tongue. She glanced up at him again, surprised to see a hidden depth of fire in his molten silver eyes.
“Say it again, Hermione.” He felt her shiver as he said her given name and couldn’t help the primal response that shot through him.
“Draco,” she whispered, loving the soft groan she heard. She felt extremely warm and suddenly relaxed. The look in his eyes couldn’t be faked, not unless he was a superb actor, and it made her feel powerful and very feminine. Arousal spiraled through her and she knew without a doubt that this was what she was missing with Ron. The thought of the redhead’s touch suddenly disgusted her and she buried her head in Draco’s warm chest. She shuddered with fear and the desperate need to tell someone what exactly she had been through.
He felt the change in her immediately and wondered what caused it. Her shoulders shook but she didn’t cry. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”
The endearment was all it took for Hermione to break apart. Sobs wracked her body, the dam inside her bursting with the force of her pent up emotions. She didn’t care that it was Draco she cried on, because he was rubbing her back and not telling her to stop. She didn’t notice that he had picked her up until she wrapped her legs around his waist. She still cried all over his shirt, unable to control herself anymore and finally not wanting to. It was freeing, the ability to cry and the knowledge that she would spill her darkest secrets to the one person she never thought she would be able to trust. She gathered her thoughts and courage as they left the club, still safely wrapped in his arms.
Draco fumbled with the keys to his flat, thankfully empty of his family for the duration of the unusual holiday. His family had a Manor out in the country, but whenever they had business in London they stayed here. Now it was his to use and for that he was grateful. He knew that Hermione would want privacy to recover from her bout of weeping, and he wanted to hear what exactly had made her so upset in the first place, preferably without having to shout. He locked the door behind him and sat down on the couch, still keeping her in his arms.
Hermione blushed a little when she understood that he wasn’t going to let her go. She was going to tell her entire ruddy story while on his lap. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough! She took a deep breath for courage and sighed when the only thing she smelled was him. His cologne blended wonderfully with his masculine smell, somehow comforting her and making her feel safe and protected. This is what she wanted from a relationship, she finally realized. This connection and the sense of security he was providing her. She wasn’t sure it would last longer than tonight, especially when he heard her tale, but she reveled in the experience just the same.
“Ready to talk now, sweetheart?” he asked quietly when she had been quiet for a few minutes.
She nodded against his neck and then blushed again. “Can I maybe have a tissue? I’m sure I must look a wreck.”
He chuckled softly. “Trust a woman…” But he slid her off his lap and got her a box of tissues and an extra blanket in case she was cold.
She thanked him and wiped her eyes, hopefully wiping off the worst of her mascara rather than just smearing it, and then blew her nose. Hermione knew her eyes were red and puffy but there was nothing for it. She had just opened her mouth to start the sorry tale when he pulled her back on her lap, sideways this time, keeping her legs covered by the fleece blanket.
“This way we’re both warm and comfortable,” he explained before she could ask.
She nodded and laid her head down on his shoulder, sighing softly and closing her eyes. “I don’t know where to start,” she confessed quietly.
“Why not at the beginning?” he suggested, pulling her closer and keeping one arm around her waist and the other resting on her legs.
“Ron and I have been dating for nearly ten months, you know. I had a crush on him for the longest time before that. He and Harry were my first friends, but it was deeper than that. So when he asked me out, it was like a dream come true for me. And for a while it really was a dream come true. He was so sweet, so caring and attentive, the way a good man should be. I tried to be good to him, as much as I could, and for a while I was really happy.”
Hermione drifted in her memories while Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to hear the story, yes, but he really didn’t care for this part of it. He didn’t want to hear about how kind the ginger Weasel was, or how caring and attentive. But he had the terrible feeling that he would like the rest of the story less, and that worried him. He chose not to rush her into speaking, instead enjoying the feel and weight of her in his arms, and planning exactly how he would hurt the redhead the next time they crossed paths.
“I gave him my virginity before Christmas Hols. It was sort of an early present, because we would be separated over the holidays. I suppose it was a good experience, because it didn’t hurt like I’d always heard a woman’s first time did. Things seemed to stay good for a little while, but then it slowly changed. It was the little things at first, things that I didn’t notice and connect. Little remarks here and there about what I was doing wrong or what I could do better, about how I didn’t spend enough time with him, how I was neglecting him. I tried to be accommodating, I really did, but school always comes first. I don’t think he understood that. And then it got worse. The comments got sharper, about how I should put more thought and effort into how I looked because he didn’t want to be embarrassed by me. Not that blunt, of course, but that was the general gist of a lot of it. We went to the spring dance, you remember the one? That’s the night things got really bad. We danced, or tried to anyway, but he didn’t seem happy to be there. He told me I wasn’t good at dancing, or anything, really, and we left. We went up to his room and suddenly he was so angry. I’m not sure why, but I wanted to help him relax and get happier, so I didn’t protest when he moved really quickly that night.”
Her eyes were open and staring at the far wall, looking haunted and full of the despair that he had noticed earlier. “It hurt that night more than the first time. I don’t think he noticed or cared, but I did. What kind of boyfriend does that, Draco? And then says that I finally got something right?” Hermione turned her haunted eyes on him and he had the sudden urge to take away her pain and sadness.
“I don’t know, Hermione.”
She nodded as though it was the answer she expected. “I don’t know that I would call it rape, but it hasn’t happened again since that night. I’m afraid, you see. I’m afraid of staying with him and I’m afraid to leave. I’m afraid because I’m starting to believe what he says, and that’s the absolute worst. What if I really am useless and cold? What if he’s right?”
“Hermione, I know this probably isn’t a question you want to answer but I have to know.” He waited until he had her full attention. “Has he ever hit you?”
Her eyes lowered in shame. She swallowed harshly before answering. “Only once.” The tears started to flow again, softly and in twin rivers down her cheeks. Draco rocked her gently against him, mind racing and fury swimming in his veins. Hermione Granger was one of the strongest women he knew; one of the most capable. What kind of man would take her and try and break her? What had he said that had been able to bring her to this point? He wanted to strangle the soulless, spiteful ginger, wanted to break him in front of Hermione and make her realize that he was no man to be believed or trusted. He knew that it would never work, though.
Instead he pulled out his cell and sent a quick message to Luna. He was never more grateful to the blonde for coming up with this hair-brained plan in the first place. If it hadn’t been for her decision to try and get the feuding groups to mend fences he would never have seen this side of Hermione. He would never have realized how attractive she was, how attracted he was to her. He wanted her away from Weasley, but more than that he wanted her with him. He wanted to keep her safe, to build her back up again into the proud, confident woman he knew she should be. He wanted to argue with her, see the passion snapping in her eyes over something as simple as animal rights, and be able to kiss that passion into another form. Dammit to hell, he wanted a bloody relationship with the softly crying woman in his arms. “He’s not right, you know,” he said confidently.
She sniffled. “What?”
“Weasley. You’re not useless and you certainly aren’t cold. And I’m sure he’s gotten a million other things wrong about you too.”
“How do you know?” She knew she sounded pathetic and needy, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. She wanted so desperately to believe Draco, to find the confidence in herself that she had lost over the last five months. He smiled at her, really smiled, and she felt that zing of heat flow through her body again.
“I’ll prove it, Hermione. Let’s dance.” He lifted her off his lap and walked over to the dining room where a small stereo sat on a shelf. He checked the CD in the dim light of the apartment and nodded in satisfaction. Nora Jones. A few buttons later and her sultry voice began to sing Turn Me On. He walked back to the couch and held his hand out for his partner. “Well?”
She looked at the offered appendage. “I really can’t dance, Draco.”
He smiled a bit. “That’s fine. Just let me lead. Do you trust me?”
She took his hand hesitantly. “Yes, I believe I do.”
He swung her into his arms, surprising a small shriek out of her and garnered a light smack for his effort. He laughed loudly and began to sway to the music, feeling her slowly relax and fall into the rhythm of the dance. Her head was against his chest again, cheek resting lightly above his heart when the song switched to Come Away With Me. He used the faster tempo to introduce basic steps, pleased when she took to them flawlessly. He started to hum along, turning it into full on singing by the second verse. The couple danced around the empty space in his apartment between kitchen and dining room, lost in their own world.
Hermione turned her face up to his, watching his lips move to form the words of the song without missing a beat in their dance. Her breath caught when his eyes met hers, trapping her in his warm gaze, and when he tilted his face down she moved up on tiptoes to meet him halfway. A flood of feeling washed over her at the intimate touch. His lips were warm and soft, lovingly caressing hers as his hands slid up her body to frame her face. Her hands were tangled in his silky hair, gripping tightly to anchor herself amid the sea of pure sensation. Her eyes fluttered closed on a sigh when he tilted his head and slanted his mouth against hers. There was more pressure now, and the hot feeling was back in her stomach. He put pressure on her chin with one hand and she willingly opened for him, reveling in the feelings as his tongue danced with hers. His mouth was hot and slick against hers and the kiss deepened still further when he dominated her mouth, exploring the flavors and textures and began to entice hers to rub up against his.
He groaned and pulled her even closer when she began to participate in the kiss, just like he wanted. Her mouth was sweet and hot and perfect and he wanted more. They broke apart, panting, but it wasn’t long before their mouths fused together again, bodies pressed flush up against one another, slowly driving each other towards total abandon. Draco was perversely glad to be the one to really teach her how to kiss, just like he would be the one to teach her how things should be in bed between a man and woman. He would see to it that she got her pleasure before him or die trying.
Hermione suddenly felt a wall at her back and moaned at the temperature difference. When had she gotten so hot? Coherent thought fled again as his pelvis pinned hers to the wall, and she felt his throbbing hardness against her stomach. She moaned lustily and rocked against it. She felt so good and never wanted the sensations to stop. She had never felt this way before, and wanted to explore the feelings further rather than shy away from them. Her body was loose and relaxed but wound so tight and she had a feeling it would only get worse. She let her head fall back against the wall, breaking the kiss, and moaned again as Draco’s mouth traveled down her chin and neck, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin as he went. She shivered in reaction and pushed her body against his more firmly. She was rewarded with a groan that had her nerves tingling.
Draco couldn’t get enough of the woman in his arms. She was so damn responsive, so sweet and hot against him without even trying. His hands grabbed her lush bottom and pulled her up against him, groaning again when she wrapped her strong legs around his waist. They ground their centers together, trying to create that delicious friction that would drive them to completion. He took her mouth again, and again, each time finding it harder and harder to pull back. She was a quick learner, and he felt his control slipping. His hands slid under her shirt, exploring the textures of her smooth skin and sensitive torso. She wasn’t stick thin, and rather than having a completely flat stomach he discovered a softly rounded one, but decided right away that he liked the difference. She was a real person, not some model that looked good on the outside but completely fake. She responded to his touch more than anyone else ever had, and it was going to his head like cheap whiskey. He drew her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside and forgetting all about it before it landed again. He cupped the soft mounds of her bra-covered breasts, kissing her again while his fingers explored the lacy contraption.
Her nipples were hard against his fingers, and he played with them through the lace, loving the little gasps she made when he pinched just right and the mewling sound when he stroked the soft flesh above the lace. “God, you’re perfect,” he breathed against her mouth, pleased with the blush he saw on her cheeks in response to his remark.
She grew bold enough to reach between them and undo the buttons of his silk shirt, hands exploring the planes and lines of his muscular chest. He had no hair to mar the smooth feel of his skin, and she reveled in the way his muscles danced beneath her fingers. She giggled suddenly, remembering that this all started with a dance. She kissed his neck, nipping a bit when she felt bold enough, rewarded with his curse and groan. “Fuck, Hermione, what you do to me…” He pressed up against her again and she knew exactly what it was that she did to him. She ground against the hard, thick length of him and moaned at the feelings that shot from her core to the tips of her fingers. She wanted him inside her, now, quickly, giving her pleasure she’d never experienced before.
“Oh God Draco please please hurry,” she begged, hands dropping to the top of his pants.
“Oh fuck, yes,” he agreed, nearly mindless with desire and so hard it was almost painful. He undid her pants and put her down so she could shimmy out of the tight fabric, getting more than an eyeful of her lovely form as he quickly stripped of his shirt and pants. “Are you on the pill?” he asked, voice husky and deep.
Her eyes were deep pools of brown, pupils large with the onslaught of pleasure. “Yes,” she confirmed as she reached for her bra.
“Keep it on,” he said, grabbing her hands before they could reach the clasp. She blushed and he thought it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. “I like seeing it on you, knowing that we were in too much of a hurry to pull it off, that I wanted you too much to slow down and do this right. I love knowing that you’re so hot for me that your nipples are sensitive even through the lace. It’s so fucking hot, Hermione, you have no idea.” He pushed her up against the wall while he spoke, testing her readiness with a finger and found her soaking. “You’re so fucking wet for me, you know that? You’re drenched and it’s the fucking sexiest thing ever.” He pulled her up again, pleased when she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He positioned himself at her entrance and warned her, “This is gonna be fast, sweetheart.”
She moaned at the feeling of him, so close but so far away. “Good. Make it fast and hard. Fuck me, Draco.” Her eyes met his and showed only her desire for him. He slid home in one sharp thrust, their simultaneous cries of ecstasy mingling with their breath. They took a moment to enjoy the feeling of being connected, of being one being in the most primal and intimate way possible, before he withdrew and set a grueling pace. Her cries spurred him on, the feeling of her walls tightening around his full member the most erotic thing he’d ever felt. He adjusted her hips and smiled in satisfaction at the sharp moan as he finally hit that wonderful spot deep inside.
Hermione was in heaven and hell. She had never felt so good, so complete and full, but there was something just out of reach. Heat coiled deep within her and with each sharp thrust Draco made it got tighter and tighter until she knew that something had to give. She begged him with unintelligible phrases but he seemed to understand exactly what she needed. “Look at me, Hermione,” he panted harshly. When her cloudy brown eyes locked on his he reached between their bodies and found her clit, flicking it once, twice, and then saw her fall apart. She keened loudly as the coil tightened and then snapped, sending wave upon wave of pleasure through her body, each muscle tensing to prolong the feelings. Her eyes stayed locked on his, dimly aware of his harsh grunts and the sharp snap of his hips up into her willing body before he too cried out in relief and satisfaction.
Even after the feelings faded they stayed connected, staring into each other’s eyes. Something profound had happened, and neither one wanted to break the moment just yet. Hermione finally sighed in contentment and let her head fall back onto Draco’s shoulders, softly kissing his neck. His body was resting on hers, pushing them both into the wall until he could regain some control over his trembling legs. He didn’t want to let her go, to leave the hot confines of her body until he was dead, and even then he could always be buried together with her, he supposed.
That thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. There was something about Hermione that just seemed right to him. And now that he had her, he was never letting her go again. He had been the only man, the only person, to see her come apart like that. It wasn’t something he was willing to share with anyone, ever.
Her even breathing cued him onto the fact that she had fallen asleep. A different sort of pleasure shot through him then, at the thought that not only had he worn her out enough that she fell asleep on him, but that she felt safe enough with him to succumb to oblivion like that. He pushed away from the wall carefully, supporting her bottom with one hand and her back with the other, lest she fall. He walked them into his bedroom and set her down on the soft mattress, regretfully sliding out of her soft body to make it easier to prepare them for bed. He lifted her enough to undo her bra and slid it off her body. He took a moment to appreciate the picture she made, soft and nude in his bed, his seed falling from her body onto his sheets, before climbing in beside her. He slid the sheets up over them and gathered her close before he too fell asleep.
--- --- ---
Pounding at the door woke them up. Draco groaned and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Eight am. “Fuck,” he muttered and turned back to the woman cuddled in his arms. She muttered something dark and ungracious against his chest before burrowing closer. “Make them go away, Draco,” she asked petulantly.
He nuzzled the top of her head, remembering the marvelous events of the night before. They had woken up many times that night, exploring their mutual desire in the dark world of his bed. He had learned and loved every inch of Hermione, learning what she liked and didn’t like, memorizing the spots that made her wild and the ones that made her sigh. He had taught her in return, teaching her about herself and her hidden passion, taught her about his body and what he liked and didn’t, until she became confident enough to become bold and try new things. All-in-all, they hadn’t gotten much sleep during the night. “You’ll have to let me go before I can, love,” he told her on a yawn.
“No,” she muttered. They had just about drifted off again when the pounding started up again, louder and accompanied by a harsh male voice. She cringed when she recognized the owner. “That’s Ron out there.”
Draco pulled her closer, now wide awake. “What do you want to do, love?”
She looked up at him and thought for a moment. “Do you ever let your women sleep over at your flat?”
He frowned at the question, unsure of exactly what that had to do with anything, but he knew women well enough to know that Hermione had a reason for asking the question. “No, never. You’re the first one, actually. And never back at school, either, if you want to know that too.”
She positively beamed at him. “So then this isn’t a one-off for you?”
He raised one perfect eyebrow. “Can’t you count, sweetheart? I’m very sure that ‘one’ is incorrect. No,” he said quickly before she could yell at his contrary behavior, “this isn’t a one-off, or a fling, unless you want it to be. But I must warn you, I’ll fight you until you change your mind.” He rolled on top of her, sliding into her welcoming heat before she had a chance to question what he meant.
“Ooh, I do believe I’ll let you convince me, Mr. Malfoy.” She smiled mischievously up at him before rolling her hips against him and took pride in his guttural moan.
“Fuck!” He stopped the leisurely pace and began to pound into her with a vengeance, quickly bringing them both over the edge. When he could breathe again he rolled off her, happy when she followed and rested her head and arm on his chest, one leg thrown over his. “I want this to be a relationship, Hermione. I can’t promise I’ll be the best boyfriend in the world, but I’ll promise to try.”
Her fingers tapped out a lazy beat on his chest while she thought. “I think I’d like that, Draco. You’ve already given me so much that I hadn’t expected to ever find. I can’t promise to be the best girlfriend in the world, but I’ll promise to try. One condition,” she warned him, holding up a finger. “Well, two actually.”
“And they would be?” One of his hands covered hers, pulling it back to rest on his chest.
“Don’t try to be more important than my schoolwork, because you’ll lose.” She looked dead serious when she said it and he nodded with as much gravity. “Two, go and chase Ron from the hallway. He’s getting frightfully loud and I’d really like some sleep. You wore me out.”
He laughed at the last and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, my lady. Your wish is my command.” He slid out of bed and threw on a robe, happy to see Hermione snuggle with his pillow, eyes drifting closed on a sigh. He shut his bedroom door and planned out exactly how he wanted to play this confrontation. There was no doubt in his mind now that Hermione would never go back to the Weasel. She had found something better with him, and he would make sure she kept feeling that way. She was quite a woman, both in and out of the bed. He wanted to keep her fire going strong, keep her spirit going strong. He would make sure that it happened.
He unlocked the door and threw it open, glaring rudely at Ron, who stood, red-faced, in the doorway, fist primed to pound on the door again. “Where is she?” he demanded loudly.
“Hopefully sleeping, now that your infernal pounding on my door has stopped,” Draco answered slowly, relishing in the way his enemy’s ears turned bright red.
“I need to see her, Malfoy. You’d better give her back to me. Luna told me some crazy story of her going home with you, saying that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”
“Is that what she said? And you didn’t believe her? Shame on you, Weasel. I don’t think Lovegood’s ever lied to anyone, you know.” Draco tutted softly and wanted to laugh out loud at the look on Ron’s face.
“She was lying, or you made up that story! I don’t care! Let me see Hermione right now! Where is she, Malfoy?” Ron’s voice rose a few decibel levels and so Draco shrugged.
“You can come in, if you want. Like I said, hopefully she’s sleeping. She had quite a night, you know, and was rather worn out.” Draco closed the door behind him, waiting to see how he would react to the clothes still strewn about the flat.
“You’re a fucking liar, Ferret!”
He shrugged again. “Suit yourself.”   He sat down on the couch and turned on the tv, making sure to keep the volume low so as not to disturb Hermione, just in case the shouting hadn’t already woken her up. “Feel free to look around.”
Ron glared at the blonde before stomping around the living room. He noticed the clothes strewn about and felt his rage grow exponentially. His Hermione would never do something like this, he tried to tell himself. She was loyal to him and would never betray him like that, especially not with the Ferret. He conveniently forgot all the times he had been unfaithful to her, including last night. It wasn’t his fidelity under question, after all. He opened door after door, looking for the one that housed his sleeping prey. He found empty room after spotless empty room, until only one remained.
Draco stood up as the redhead finally made it to the doorway of his room, the one that Hermione was currently in. He silently made his way down the hallway, unwilling to let the two in a room alone. He trusted Hermione just fine, but wouldn’t risk her safety by letting Ron in a room alone with her. Especially if she was still sleeping. And nude.
The men looked in the room at the same time, taking in the scene before them. She was spread out on the bed, lying on her stomach, hair spread out wildly over her form. The blanket had slipped down to her hips, revealing the slim back and pale skin. Draco’s heart tripped at the sight, something he could see every day and still not get tired of. She looked like an angel, he thought sappily, or a goddess come to life. And she was all his. Only he knew the secret passion that burned within her, knew how to make her so hot she nearly scorched him upon entry. He got hard just thinking about it, and decided he wanted to take her just like that, spread open for him, ready for the taking.
Ron shook him from his fantasy, positively roaring his rage as his vision turned red. He took two steps towards his girlfriend when Draco’s fist crashed into his cheek. The blow stunned him and he fell to the floor, shock written all over his face.   Hermione squeaked awake and jumped up to find the source of the disturbance.
“You might want to grab the sheet, love,” Draco warned her calmly, looking for all the world like this was an everyday occurrence in his world. He nodded in satisfaction as she gathered the green sheets to her chest and wrapped them around herself before getting up to investigate.
“Draco, this isn’t exactly what I meant,” she pouted as she looked at her friend’s face. There was no shock of attraction, no pull of feeling or loyalty towards him. The revelation was freeing and she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
The blonde shrugged as Ron got back to his feet. “I figured he needed to see with his own eyes. He didn’t believe Luna when she told him you’d come back here with me and wanted nothing more to do with him.”
Hermione frowned angrily at the redhead. “Luna never lies!” She walked over to Draco and stood proudly by his side. “Ron, I realize that I haven’t been the best girlfriend to you, and for that I’m sorry, but we’re over. I can’t be in a relationship with you anymore. You weren’t the best to me either, and it’s taken me this long to realize that we’ll be better off without one another. I know it seems sudden, but I promise it’s not. And Draco has nothing to do with this either, so don’t you dare blame him.”
Ron glowered fiercely at the couple. “How long have you been with the Ferret, Hermione?”
She glared right back, taking a step towards him in defense of her lover. “Not that it’s any of your business, but since last night. After he held me when I cried like a baby all over him.”
Ron reached forward, quick as a snake, and grabbed her upper arms. “I don’t believe you, you lying bitch! How long have you been going behind my back with him?!”
Hermione refused to cry out, even though he was holding her arms hard enough to bruise. “I told you the truth, Ronald! Now let go of me!”
Ron was about to respond when he felt pressure of one of his wrists. “You’d better unhand her, Weasley, before I make you.” Draco’s voice was deadly calm and quiet.
The redhead sneered but then gasped in pain as his wrist was squeezed and simultaneously twisted, forcing him to release Hermione. She took a few quick steps back, fighting the urge to rub the bruises she could feel. He tried to rub the pain in his wrist away when the blonde released his hand and decided to walk away before he got seriously hurt. “That’s alright, Ferret. You can have the frigid bitch. She doesn’t know how to please a man in the sack. His dick is liable to freeze off first. Better you than me.” He turned and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Draco turned to Hermione and gathered her close to his chest. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice and eyes concerned.
She shrugged, trying to throw off the hurt that Ron’s words had caused. “My arms ache a little,” she said quietly, feeling the tears rise.
He pulled back and frowned down at her, seeing the tears welling in her eyes. “You are neither frigid nor a bitch, Hermione. Trust me on that. You’re so unbelievably passionate, you know. Not just in bed, either, but in everything. You study with a passion, soaking up every bit of knowledge that our professors and the books can offer. You are just as passionate in your friendships, whether you know it or not. You defend them with every ounce of your heart and soul, protect and nurture them just the same. You fight with every bit of yourself for a cause that you believe in, no matter what. Yep, you’re pretty much famous around school for that club you tried to start when we were fourteen. I admire you for that, you know. For your ability to throw yourself headfirst into anything and come out on top.” He walked towards the bed, pushing her along in front of him until her knees hit the bed and she collapsed back onto the mattress.
“And don’t even get me started about your passion and fire in bed. You burn me up, woman. You drive me absolutely insane.” Each point he made was a caress against her soul, each brush of his hand against her skin a balm to sooth the ache of the evil words Ron had spouted. Draco loved her slowly, building her up and taking her over the peak softly, gently, until she was weeping from the overwhelming sensations and the lingering emptiness within her. They paused when he was seated fully within her welcoming depths, reveling in that instant of connection and rightness. He didn’t hurry his pace, content to let the pleasure build and take them over the edge with a slowly-burning heat, driving out the darkness from their souls and cementing the bond they shared. “You drive me insane, Hermione, and I’m never letting you go.”
--- --- --- ---
Well, that rather got away from me. It wasn’t supposed to be that long, but I’m pleased with the direction it went. Please review if you liked it or found it enjoyable to read.
MeakoXIII
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Dance in the Dark