Why do you have to put on an act when I am the only person who sees you?
Because if he didn't, then what else was there? He'd been stripped of his wealth, his magic, his status. If he abandoned what he had been designed to become, there was nothing left.
Some people are beyond change, Granger-
Not you…
"Fucking hell," he groaned to himself, dropping his face into his palms.
You asked me to stay. I…I wanted to stay.
He'd never kissed someone like that before; like a rebellious burst that had made him feel loose and unchained. He'd been aware of who he was kissing and that he shouldn't have been touching her at all, but, at the moment, he couldn't have given a shit. On closer inspection, he didn't really give a shit now. There was no one here to scold him for thinking for himself, and doing what felt…
Just do what feels right.
Too dangerous, but ultimately too tempting.
The pathetic truth was he missed her, and not just as a distraction; he missed her as a person. Her voice, her little quirks, her fire…just everything. She would be back tomorrow, although he had no idea what time. It could be fairly early in the morning for all he knew, so his decision to sleep in her bed again was a rather risky one, and another damaging blow to his pride.
But it felt right.
.
.
Tonks had left at eight, and Hermione had managed to get to the school before the weekend-lazy students had started to rouse and roam. She was so nervous she had worried her lower lip until it had bled, which had meant a slight detour at the prefects bathroom to heal the cut. Perhaps she was stalling, but she spent a good few minutes scrutinizing her reflection and trying to concoct a strategy to deal with Draco after her embarrassing behaviour two days ago.
Deciding that she had put it off for long enough, she headed to her dorm, hesitating to take a deep breath before she muttered the appropriate password. She slipped inside, intending to be as quiet as possible, but a rush of wind slammed the door shut behind her.
Bugger…
She froze as she heard shuffling from the other side of the dorm, but it sounded misplaced, almost like it was coming from her room. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind that her door was flung open to release a very intense-looking Slytherin. Draco had clearly just woken up; his hair roguishly mussed, and he was clad in just a vest and loose pyjama bottoms, but it was the purposeful and slightly wild glint in his eyes that made her heart pause.
He lingered in the doorframe for a moment, staring hard at her like he wasn't sure she was there at all. Hermione shook away her trance and the anger hit her, just as he began to march towards her with bold strides.
"You were in MY room?"
"Yes," he spat, quickening his steps and slicing the distance between them.
"How the hell did you-
Draco cut her off; grabbing her face and snatching her lips with a desperate kiss. He sighed shakily into her mouth, uncaring that she felt stiff and unresponsive against him and just acting on instinct. He pulled away but kept her close, relishing her little pants tickling his chin. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes closed, readying himself for her rejection and outrage, but she tilted her head to latch back onto him.
Her gesture was timid but it was enough for him, and he shoved her roughly against the door, swallowing her gasp. His movements were frantic and almost feral as he sucked her in and took greedy nips at her winter-wet lips. She kept up with him, licking and pecking back with dissipating nerves; clutching onto his arms with trembling fingers. His hands drifted up her cheekbones and into her coffee-curls, coaxing a moan from her that made his hips twitch.
He pressed himself against her as much as he could, dragging his fingertips down her neck, shoulders and ribs to settle possessively at her sides. He groaned as she combed her nails through his hair, catching a sensitive spot at his spine that made him shiver in a wonderful way. Their hot breaths clashed between kisses and Draco decided he needed more; craved it actually.
He tore his mouth away and moved to her throat, pleasantly surprised when she lolled her head back and sighed in apparent bliss. Her grip on his biceps tightened as he found a receptive spot near her ear that made her blood rush, and her pulse felt tantalising under his tongue.
"Tell me to stop," he mumbled against her skin, barely audible.
Hermione swallowed hard but didn't utter a word to break their contact; too lost in the pace and passion that was completely foreign to her. She was vaguely aware that he was pushing away her robes, but the thought of stopping was a distant whisper at the back of her skull. She heard them thud to the floor just as he lifted his head to steal her lips again, his warm and eager palms sliding under her jumper. Her hands dropped to rest against his chest, and she scratched curiously at his collarbone and neck.
"Tell me to stop," he hissed out, more urgently this time, nipping at her jaw.
.
.
.
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