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He was looking at her.
Hermione tried to focus on the solid feeling of Viktor’s shoulders under her hands. She tried to relish his comforting warmth and the pleasant earthy scent of him. She tried to enjoy the way they swayed across the floor together. But she couldn’t. All she could focus on was the heat of His gaze boring into her, until she can’t help but look.
Her eyes immediately seek out His form across the hall where he and Pansy are dancing together. His eyes are already fixed to her when she finds him, as she knew they would be. Him being Draco Malfoy, her ex…something. Could she even call him an ex if they never labeled what they were to each other?
Was she just a girl he kissed a few times when she included a few extra minutes on the time turner. Except those minutes turned into hours and conversation and one instance of snogging so intense it left her dazed for hours afterwards.
But then, over the summer, she sent him one letter a week for the first month. He had, after all, promised they would write each other. Yet each of her letters went unanswered. So after a month of radio silence, she stopped.
The next time she saw him, at the Quidditch World Cup, he wouldn’t meet her eye when he warned her to keep her “bushy head down”. When she caught a glimpse of him on Platform 9 & 3/4, he wouldn’t look at her. And again on the train, he kept his eyes on Harry and Ron, and when she spoke, he looked at her shoulder. He studiously avoided meeting her eye.
Draco completely ignored her for the first few month of fourth year, and she refused to seek him out. If he couldn’t bother to answer a simple letter, she wasn’t going to waste her time and energy on him any longer. And yet, she missed him.
She tried to not care when Moody turned him into a ferret and bounced him against the wall, but the aching in her chest was difficult to ignore. Her concern vanished when he started being mean to her again. Telling her to take a 'Potter stinks' badge but not to touch his hand, and the densaugeo (even though it was an accident, he still laughed). It was as if their…friendship in third year never even happened.
Except in November, he suddenly started spending a lot more time in the library. Her domain, the wanker knew that. She had not once seen him in the library since the start of the year. She preferred a quiet table toward the back that was fairly isolated, only two other small tables close by. Those two tables usually sat empty, so when both started to become occupied with great frequency by the same two individuals, it was hard not to notice. Viktor Krum spent quite a lot of time in the library for someone more athletically inclined. He spent as much time there as Hermione. And soon after that, Draco Malfoy also began to spend hours in the library as well.
The day Viktor politely asked if he could join her at her table, Draco hadn’t been there. When he came the following day to see them sitting together, she felt his eyes burning into the back of her head like a laser.
After that, the library seemed to be Draco’s favorite bloody place. He was always there, waiting at his table when she arrived, blatantly watching when Viktor joined her, never saying a word. Being a stubborn sort of witch, she refused to look at him. He lost the right to her attention when he started acting like they hadn’t been friends, and maybe more. Like they never even happened.
Except now he’s looking at her. She’s trying to dance with a perfectly lovely, if a bit dumb, Viktor, and she can’t concentrate with him looking at her. She rips her eyes away from him, and they swing around wildly, glancing in every direction except his. She can’t. She won’t. And then they land on him again. He’s still watching her intently. They dance with their respective dates, their eyes remain locked. And then his lips curl into a little smirk. Her breath catches.
“Are you alright, Herminnye?”
Viktor’s brow furrowed in concern.
“I’m fine, just…hot. And I’ve got to step out for a moment. Visit the ladies.” Hermione’s voice came out breathless, her words rushed. She couldn’t bring herself to care. She spun on her heel and sped out of the Great Hall as quickly as her heels would allow.
Once out of the Great Hall, she walks with brisk determination, except she has no idea where she’s going. And then she hears it. The unmistakable clicking of expensive shoes against the stone floor, echoing the clacking of her heels. They were clicking quicker than her own steps. Catching up with her. The clicking grows louder despite her picking up her pace. If she moved any faster she’d be running. But his long legs eat up the space between them. She doesn’t turn back to see how close he is. She spots the slightly ajar door of the Charms classroom, she ducks inside and swings the door shut behind her, but the slam never comes.
Thud.
Oh merlin.
She turns and sees a hand and the black sleeve of immaculate formal dress robes that stopped the door from closing. Then the door is being pushed open and He is there. He looks at her. Then carefully, intentionally closes the door. The quiet click of it closing feels ominous. Like the sealing of her fate.
“Leave me alone.”
“Hermione-“
“Just leave me alone!”
She hated him. Standing there, looking all calm and concerned and beautiful.
“I saw you leaving the dance. I came to make sure you’re alright.”
“No, I am not alright. Are you happy? I’m not alright! Because you have a girlfriend! And you never wrote me and then acted like I didn’t exist. And now you’re looking at me again. Stop looking at me!”
“I am not looking at you.”
“You are looking at me! And you watch me. And Viktor is sweet. I like Viktor. He’s nice to me and good for me and I’m really trying to be happy here. But I feel like I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe with you looking at me like that! So just stop!”
The few moments of silence that followed were deafening. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, his hands clenched tight into fists. He took slow predatory steps until he was towering over her. His voice came out soft and deadly.
“You think I want to be looking at you? You think I wouldn’t rather be looking at my bloody pure blood girlfriend? The one my parents would actually let me have? She doesn’t drive me crazy, she doesn’t make it impossible for me to feel normal. She doesn’t make me sick to my stomach, thinking of some bloody Bulgarian touching her with his hands. I would give anything to not be looking at you.”
Her heart clenched violently in her chest as she took in the sheer intensity of his gaze, her breath was coming quick and shallow. And then his eyes dipped to her mouth.
The next second he was cradling her face and his lips were on hers.
She wished she was strong enough to pull away. Strong enough to shove him away, slap him across the face, and tell him to get fucked.
But the feeling of his lips on hers, his hunger, his desperation, the way he cradled her face like she was the most precious thing in the world, it all weakened her resolve in mere seconds. And then she was kissing him back.
She poured everything into the kiss. Her anger, her frustration, her pain, her want. Her hands fisted his dress robes tight, wrinkling the pristine fabric to her satisfaction. She pulled at his robes until their bodies were pressed together tightly, not an inch of space between them.
His mouth moved over hers, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands moved down, brushing over her shoulders and arms before settling on her waist. Without ever stopping his exploration of her mouth with his, Draco began moving, backing her up until her bum bumped into Professor Flitwick’s desk. His hands tightened on her waist and he picked her up and sat her down on the desk. Slowly, hesitantly, his hands moved lower, skimming over the skirt of her dress, brushing along her legs until they met the hem. When his hands began moving back up, bringing the fabric up along with them, he moved slowly once again. She knew he was giving her the chance to stop him, to slap at his hands, to punch him in the nose again. She did none those things. Instead she groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. His bare hands settled on her thighs and kept working the skirt up to her hips.
He finally pulled his mouth away from hers and looked down to where his hands were squeezing at her thighs. His gaze darkened when he saw her knickers. They were a far cry from her standard white, cotton fare. She had spent more time than she should have transfiguring a pair into a tiny, white scrap of lace. Draco’s voice came out as a growl.
“Did you wear these for him?”
She glared at him.
“And if I was?” She arched a brow at him, daring him to be jealous.
“He’s not going to see them.” It was a statement. A command.
Before she could reply his lips were back on hers, devouring her. Within a few moments, she was lost to the feeling of his mouth. His hands kneaded the flesh of her thighs and hips. He whispered against her lips.
“Can I touch you? Please, let me touch you.”
She should have laughed in his face. She should have hexed him to all hell for even following her into this classroom. But she was weak for him.
Instead she nodded.
Draco’s eyes grew round and his breathing became labored. He looked down as his hands moved up and tugged at her knickers pulling them down her legs. She lifted her hips to help him and when his hands returned to her, Hermione noticed that they were trembling. She spread her legs and gasped when his fingers brushed against her where no one had ever touched.
His eyes were fixed to where his fingers explored her, still trembling slightly, fascinated at the moisture that was beginning to gather the more he touched her. When he brushed against the nub at the top of her slit, her breath caught. Draco’s eyes cheated up to her face, a small smile forming on his lips at her reaction, before returning his gaze to her sex.
He gathered up some of the moisture and brought it back up to her nub and gently rubbed at it, trying different strokes and pressures until Hermione was wriggling her hips, unable to stop the little moans that left her mouth.
“Is this okay?” His voice was rough, his eyes pure heat on her face. She bit her lip and nodded enthusiastically. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, please.” She hated how desperate she sounded, but she was too far gone.
Draco kneeled in front of her immediately, spread her thighs further. He leaned in and kissed tentatively at the nub he had been stroking. She gasped and fixed her eyes on him. She couldn’t believe she had Draco Malfoy’s head between her thighs while the Yule Ball carried on down the hall.
Hermione stifled her moan when his tongue began flicking at her. Her hands moved to his head entirely on their own and fisted his hair, pulling him closer to her. She felt his groan against her when her hips ground against his mouth. Then she felt a gentle finger stroke though her folds, gathering moisture before pressing against her entrance. She didn’t suppress her moans then. Encouraged by her noises, Draco continued licking at her nub as he worked his finger inside of her. She soon felt herself approaching a precipice. Warmth spread out all over her body, her thighs started spasming, and lights sparked behind her eyelids as she cried out and fell over the edge. She felt her walls clamp down around Draco’s finger while he continued to lick at her gently through her orgasm. When she went slack against him and released her grip on his hair, he pulled his finger from her and looked up at her, panting, his mouth shiny from her, his eyes glassy.
She reached down and grabbed his robes, hauling him up and pulling him to her. Her mouth ravaged his as her hand moved down, seeking out the hardness she could feel pressed against her thigh. Draco’s pained groan when she palmed him through his trousers filled her with a smug satisfaction.
She worked his pants open and wrapped her hand around him, shocked at the warmth and hardness of him. She longed to see it but was loathe to tear her lips from his. Her hand moved over him with a light grip, he groans growing louder. After only 5 or 6 pumps of her hand she felt him grow harder before he let out a strangled moan, and released. She felt his hot spend land on her thigh, as he panted into her mouth and his hands pressed her tightly against him.
As their breathing calmed, the reality of what they had just done washed over her. She and Draco…she and her ex…something had just-
“Hermione.”
She snapped her eyes up to him, shocked at the emotion plain on his face.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione. My father…I was trying to stay away from you. To protect you. I’ve missed you so much.”
He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her until they had to pull apart to suck in some much needed oxygen. Hermione pulled back and whispered against his lips.
“I forgive you. I just want to be with you Draco.”
Hermione kissed him, swallowing her fear, and allowing herself to hope. Hope that she would be his.