Moments of Weakness
Author's Note: Just a meaningless, plot-less Dramoine that came to mind. I haven't posted something in a while, so hopefully this is a gateway to something more. A little more mature and suggestive than I've written before, hence the rating... I might come back to edit or elaborate later...
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot-ish idea.
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"You do realize you're a witch, don't you?"
I rolled my eyes, struggling with the bags of groceries. The last voice I had expected, let alone wanted, to hear was grating on my already frayed nerves. "Do you realize that we're in the middle of a muggle suburb, and using magic would break the law?"
"If I recall our time at Hogwarts correctly, you grew a healthy disregard for the rules…" He approached me, and even through the struggle of the bags, I could tell he was wary. Despite his wariness, he lifted the weight of the bags from my arms, carrying the objects much more gracefully than I would have managed. Not one to look a gift horse in the month, I let him have his moment of chivalry. I closed the door to my car, proceeding to dig through my purse for my house key. "Magic…" He spoke in an almost sing-song voice. I wanted to kill him.
"Shut it, Malfoy." By now I'd opened the door, and stepped through the threshold into the parlor. Once we were both safely inside, I waved my hand, relieving him of the burden of my groceries as they put themselves away. "You can leave now."
"So we're back to last names?" Ignoring my suggestion, he shut the door behind him, following me into the kitchen.
"We were never on first name terms." I kept my back turned, rummaging through my cupboards for a box of cookies I'd been craving since earlier that day, after a particularly bad moment at the office.
"I thought last night had changed that…" His voice held a hint of disappointment. At his mentioning of the previous night's, um, activities, I froze.
I responded through gritted teeth, "Last night never happened. It was a mistake."
"Hermione…" Hearing my name on his lips, a desperate, desire-filled plea, almost sent me over the edge. His mouth left a hot trail down my neck, along my bare skin.
I couldn't help the sighs, the soft moans. How could I control myself when I had so willingly given myself up to him, to his mercy? I'd never felt so vulnerable, and yet utterly safe, in my entire life. We were meant to fit together; nothing else had ever felt so right, or so good. Every move he made, every contact of his skin against mine, was fire, igniting a passion I didn't know I had. I could only hope I had the same effect on him. If his hands in my hair, roaming my body, desperately clinging to me, were any indication, it was safe to assume I did.
"Draco…" You'll regret it in the morning, this moment of weakness. My rational side tried to make me stop, to bring what little control I hoped to have over my body back. It wasn't working. In the morning…that's so far away…
His lack of a response brought me back from the memory, from remembering what his body felt like against mine. I'd moved to the sink now, on autopilot, rinsing off a mug I intended for my evening tea. In the window above the sink, I could see the change in his expression, the anger that suddenly flashed in his eyes. He was almost shaking with his anger, and my eyes wandered to his hands, also trembling, in tight fists. It only spurred on my own anger. I dropped the mug in the sink, unconcerned with it breaking, and turned to face him. It was only then I realized I'd been avoiding his gaze since I'd given him the groceries.
"I never thought you were the type for a meaningless shag, but I guess I was wrong." The implication in his voice was clear, and once again my anger multiplied tenfold.
"How dare you?" Before I knew what I was doing, I'd covered the distance between us, my hand raised and about to strike. He caught my wrist before I hit my mark. Both of us froze then, his grip on my wrist becoming ever so gentler, but still firm. My breath caught in my chest, and I could feel myself slipping away again, just as I had the previous night. I shut my eyes against the loss of control, hoping that not looking at him would help. His eyes had gone from angry to hurt, an expression that had dominated his features for the majority of time since the war. That's what had drawn me to him in the first place. He was handsome, to be sure, with his regal cheekbones and defined jaw, and well-built as a result of Quidditch and fighting, but it was his eyes that had caught my attention. Perpetually sad, deep in thought, and full of regret, regret, I learned, of everything he'd done before and through the war.
Closing my eyes wasn't enough, so I turned my head as well. I felt his other hand come to my chin, gently turning me to face him again as the other lowered my raised arm. "Look at me, Hermione."
"No." I was surprised, and proud, that I could keep my voice so steady. "I've seen more of you than I would care to ever see again." Instead of visions from the previous night, all I could see was the back of his head, as that whore Pansy Parkinson climbed on top of him.
"You don't mean that."
I'd never been happier than I was that morning. Draco – Malfoy – had taken me home after I'd woken up in his arms so I could get ready for work. In less than an hour, I was at work, in the Ministry of Magic's Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures department. My office happened to be down the hall from his, yet I didn't see him all morning. I supposed he was busy, as I was up to my elbows in paperwork as well, so I didn't think anything of his not stopping by to say hi.
Come lunchtime, I figured he might have some free time, so, after organizing the work I would be doing that afternoon, I grabbed my jacket and made my way down the hall, to see if he'd like to have lunch with me.
His door was closed, which I didn't think much of, as I knew he sometimes closed it when the paperwork became particularly overwhelming. I knocked once, and thought I heard a noise on the other side. Taking that as permission to enter, I opened the door, only to come face to face with what I only just realized then was an image taken straight from my most self-conscious nightmares. Another witch, Pansy Parkinson of all people, was straddling the man to whom I'd made love only hours before. All I could see was the back of his head, the whore running her grimy hands through his hair. It was only a moment, but long enough for the image to be burned in my mind. I blinked – twice – and then hurried away, not caring that I'd left the door open, or that he might have seen me.
Safely back in my office, I notified my boss that I wasn't feeling well and would be working the rest of the day from home.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." I was finally able to open my eyes, but I regretted it instantly. If possible, he'd only moved closer to me, his face inches from mine.
"You're not seriously asking me such a stupid question, are you?" I pulled my arm from his grip, taking a step back for the sake of my own mental clarity.
"Yes, I am." He looked like he wanted to follow me, to step closer simply because I'd stepped away. He stayed in place, though, arms crossed in front of him.
"Why don't you ask Pansy? I'm sure she'd be more than happy to tell you why I might not want anything to do with you." My voice broke on the last word, and I wanted to kick myself for it. I'd been doing so well. As if that break in my voice was all the excuse my tear ducts needed, my eyes began to fill with the traitorous liquid. I blinked, too proud to cry in front him.
"Pansy? You must be joking, Granger." He smirked, taking a step towards me. Despite the malice that dripped from my voice when I said his name, my name sounded like an endearment coming from him. "Do you have so little faith in me?"
"You're under the impression I have any faith in you at all." I turned my back to him, wiping tears that had not yet fallen.
"I suppose I deserved that." For a moment, he didn't speak again or move. That's why, when his first move was to wrap his arms around me, I jumped. He encased me in his embrace, his face buried in my hair so that his breath tickled my neck. My heartbeat quickened, and sensations from the previous night started coming back. I struggled to get free, but the gentle hold he had on me tightened. "You're going to listen to me, Hermione, because I'll only say this once."
"No one compares to you, understand? Whatever you thought you saw in my office today, you should have stayed to see the rest." At his suggestion I struggled to free myself harder. "Listen to me. You should have stayed to see me kick her out of both my office and my life." He turned me around to face him without removing himself from me. Our bodies pressed close, it was difficult for me to think.
"What do you mean?" I blinked again, trying to clear the fog from my muddled mind.
"I mean, Hermione, that I would never do anything to hurt you. Ever. Pansy was never one to let things go easily, even months after a break up. That was her attempt at reinserting herself into my life. It will never happen again." One of his hands came up to cup my cheek, wiping a tear I hadn't realized had fallen without my permission. His eyes were half-lidded, cloudy with a desire that I was fairly sure matched my own. His lips lowered to mine, and I felt my resolve slipping again, my knees going weak. I let myself be weak, for a second time in as many days.
Hope you liked it! Like I said before, just a short little piece that came to mind. Please review!