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Hermione watched him leave freely through the courtroom doors and breathed a sigh of relief, collapsing into her seat. It had been so hard to defend him without getting emotional. To stick to the facts the Wizengamot wanted to hear and not let the memory of that night overwhelm her and render her testimony useless.
She felt Harry sit down behind her and heard his robes rustle as he leaned forwards to place a caring hand on her shoulder.
“What are you still doing here ‘Mione? Go after him.”
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
“He’ll need time to…to…oh, I don’t know. Process what just happened. Hug his mother and celebrate with those who care about him.”
“And you don’t think that includes you?”
Hermione turned to look at her friend who had been through so much, had seen things he refused to talk about, but that had made him more perceptive about the world. She smiled at him and placed a kiss on his cheek before running out of the courtroom and finding the nearest floo connection.
“Blaise!” she shouted, spotting the handsome Slytherin a head above everyone else in the Leaky that afternoon.
“Granger,” he nodded at her in greeting, weaving his way through the groups of witches and wizards towards her.
“Where is he?”
“You really think that’s wise, Granger?” he raised a perfect eyebrow at her. Christ, where did they all learn to do that.
“Just tell me, Blaise.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowed as he tried to figure her out once again.
“Fine. He went directly to the Manor.” Hermione turned back to the floo, already grabbing a handful of green powder. “He’s not in the best mood, Granger. I’m glad you helped him out of there, but I don’t know what else it did.”
Hermione gulped down her sudden apprehension before calling out for Malfoy Manor.
“Draco? Draco!” she called as she ran through the unlit marble halls, hoping to hear something, anything back.
“Granger,” she heard in a familiar drawl from the cracked door she’d just passed. “Haven’t you already played your part? You don’t need to be here. Don’t need to see me anymore.”
His words were loud and slurring together, probably something to do with the opened bottle he was sliding backwards and forwards across the desk he was sitting at. It wobbled precariously on the next slide as she stepped into the study, and she dashed forwards to catch it, lifting it away from the desk by the neck.
“Scotch, Draco?”
“Uisge Beatha,” he sighed, grabbing the bottle of golden liquid back from her and tipping some more down his throat. “The glorious water of life. A life you’ve graciously given me back. Now bugger off.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him as he lifted the bottle to his lips again.
“No, Draco, would you just stop drinking for a second,” she admonished him, reaching over the desk and snatching it away from him again. “Why do you think I’m going to bugger off anywhere?”
“Because you made it quite clear at my trial that you don’t think about me, that you don’t think about that night, that the only emotions you feel towards me are pity and sympathy. Well let me tell you, Granger,” his voice rose as he jabbed a finger at her, “I don’t need it and I don’t want it.”
She sighed in understanding and took a long drink from the bottle in her hand, face screwing up at the smokiness of it.
“You think I don’t think about that night? That I don’t remember your lips, your fingers, your voice. That I don’t still feel the bruises you left on my hips and the insides of my thighs. The marks you made on my neck, my breasts.”
Her hands were pressed into the top of the desk now and she was leaning closer to him across it.
“Then God damn it, Granger!” Draco stood up to meet her eyes. “Why didn’t you come back?”
“Me? Why didn’t you? You’re the one who left, Draco! You got in my head and then you left.”
“To save you, you bloody witch!”
It was the loudest she’d heard him speak in years and she blinked at the shock of it.
“You didn’t need to be sullied by me,” he whispered, voice soft now as he looked at her parted lips. “You deserved better than that.”
His hand had lifted from the desk to cup her face, his thumb skating across her lips as he stared at them.
“Draco,” she breathed. A shudder ran through him and she decided there’d be no going back, no more running away, as she pulled his thumb into her mouth and sucked.
Draco groaned and climbed up to kneel on the top of the desk so that he was looking down at her, bending to press his lips to hers, running his tongue along her plump lower lip until she allowed him in, gasping at the want she felt for him. The love, the lust, everything that she’d tried to press down since that night came rising to the surface and she flung her arms around his neck, determined to join him up there.
She felt his hands run down her sides to cup under her bum and lift her, clearly having had the same thought. Her knees banged against the edge of the desk, but she hardly felt the pain of it distracted as she was by his mouth on hers, her fingers in his hair and his hands on her body. He lifted her until she was comfortably straddling him, knees either side of his thighs, the bulge in his trousers pressing deliciously hard against her.
Hermione ground down with her hips and felt, more than heard, Draco moan into their kiss. The skirt that she had worn for the trail had ridden up past her hips, leaving her bare to him apart from the black lace of her knickers so, when he thrust his hips in response, her head flung back as she gasped in pleasure at how close he already was to her centre.
“Draco, please, just get rid of them.”
He chuckled.
“But I quite like these trousers, sweetling,” he teased as one hand left her arse and came round to press against her clit, moaning appreciatively when he felt how damp her knickers were. “You’re already so wet for me, Granger.”
She shuddered as he pressed up against her and put more pressure on her clit at the same time, shifting to find as much friction against him as she could. Draco chuckled again, into her neck this time, and clenched his fist around the lace, ripping it away from her.
Hermione gasped at the sound, but it turned into a moan as Draco began running his fingers through her wet folds, kissing and licking and nipping down her neck as he did so.
She could feel him sucking a bruise into the skin beneath her jaw and it only heightened the sensations she was feeling from his fingers between her legs. His thumb was back on her clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud and she couldn’t help bucking her hips into him, searching for more. He understood though, of course he did, and on the next buck of her hips, he slipped two fingers into her slick heat, curling them against her front wall until she was clenched tightly around him, moaning his name.
“Ah ah. You’re not there yet, Granger. Don’t you go slacking on me.”
“Draco,” she was gasping over and over again, feeling bereft when he suddenly withdrew his fingers.
He silenced any complaints she had with a deep, searing kiss and she could feel him spreading her wetness along her slit with his fingers, meeting his other hand that was spreading her cheeks. So, when he thrust two fingers back into her searching once again for that sweet spot that made her mewl for him, he also pressed one finger into her newly slick hole to the first joint, playing with the nerves back there, as well as pressing his thumb into the familiar bundle of them at the top of her slit.
With so many sensations jolting through her, it didn’t take Hermione long until she was coming apart above him.
“That’s it, that’s it sweetling,” he stroked her through it with a smug grin on his face, watching her scream and writhe as she clenched around his fingers.
Once she stopped shaking, her head fell forwards onto his shoulders, her forehead damp with sweat. She breathed heavily against his skin, pressing soft kisses against his neck. He wrapped a tight arm around her waist and twisted them until she was laying along the desk on her back looking up into the dark pools of his eyes ringed with silver.
He wordlessly vanished his trousers, freeing his cock and she groaned at the sight, squirming on the desk as heat pooled renewed in her abdomen.
“I want you to leave bruises on my hips again. I want you to take me, Draco. Take me.”
He yanked her legs up onto his shoulders and gripped her hips as she asked, lining the head of his cock up with her dripping entrance.
“As my lady commands,” he smirked, just before thrusting deeply into her with one stroke, holding himself there briefly and listening to her whimper before pulling back and doing it again. And again, and again. Setting a punishing pace that had her climbing. It wasn’t going to take her long to get to the peak again but when he leant forwards, hitting her clit with his pelvis, he had her careering right past the top and over the edge, her toes curling, her back arching off the desk.
If possible, Draco started moving even quicker, lifting Hermione up to him and burying his face in the crook of her neck, thrusting erratically a few more times while she shook around him until he stilled, spilling inside her and moaning hotly against her flushed skin.
“You’re not going anywhere, Granger,” he said once they’d both come back down to earth.
Hermione could only shake her head. She was definitely sticking around.