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Chills | D.M. + H.G.


[Dramione Hockey AU. collection of one-shots] Hermione Granger has lived and breathed hockey for as long as she can remember - thanks to her family. She's the daughter of the coach, and the entirety of their league knows to keep their hands off if they want to live to see another day. Lucky for her, Draco Malfoy has never been one for following the rules. [a series of one-shots that I will update whenever I need a palette cleanser. therefore, this has no update schedule]

Romance / Other
Age Rating:


DISCLAIMER: I know absolutely NOTHING about hockey. Literally nothing. Everything in this two-shot I have learned via Google or asked my brother about, so please don’t come at me about the details of the sport itself and take all of that with a grain of salt. This is more so supposed to be showcasing their relationship and dynamic, so focus on that instead please :)

Betawork done by FirstLoveLateSpring and LeilahMoon!

With that firmly out of the way, happy reading!

xoxoxo, carmen


Hermione had never really gotten used to the feeling of being cold. She had, however, grown quite desensitized to an array of smells. And honestly, she much preferred it that way.

Be that as it may, the cold was something she could deal with, even if she didn’t fully appreciate or accept it, but the putrid scent of a plethora of perspiring teenage boys? That was something she was embarrassed to admit she had acclimated to.

The air in the rink was the kind of cold that was more dry than wet - the kind that sucked the moisture out of your hands out rather than sunk into your bones and froze you from the inside out. This was the primary reason for her investment into the coziest gloves that she could afford. She inhaled slowly and deeply, welcoming the feeling of the cold air coating her lungs.

Hermione was earlier that morning than normal. She knew she didn’t have to be, but she liked the quiet time to herself before the boys showed up. Hermione had been raised on the ice, mainly because of her dad and brother, so she felt as at home there as they did.

She wasn’t exactly a part of the team - she was more so an honorary member. She had watched from the sidelines for as long as she could remember, just looking for reasons to spend time with her dad and brother. It had brought them together as they grew and, years later, she was still sitting on the bench, still at every practice, at every game. She still debriefed with her dad after games, watching the video recordings their mom took, looking for ways to improve. It was tradition, and she was a sucker for it.

The Zamboni finished its first sweep of the day and she waved to Albus, the driver. He waved back and smiled at her. They had become friendly within the last few years - Hermione had established her habit of being early, and was often the first one on the ice.

“Hey Al!” she called.

“Hello, Hermione! You’re early!” It was their running joke. They’d shared the same greeting every morning since she’d first met him.

“Oh, you know, the early bird gets the worm and all that,” she chuckled. “I wanted to get a jump on the rest of the boys.”

She stepped onto the batch of fresh ice, loving the feeling of slicing through a clean slate. She had been skating for as long as she could remember and she adored it. A happy chill shot through her as she savored the feeling.

Albus responded, “I’m sure you’ve got them beat in spades. I’d love to see you scrimmage with them one of these days.”

“I think I like watching from the sidelines more than I would scrimmaging,” she said with a shrug, waving off his praise. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to emasculate them right before their biggest game of the season by getting their arses kicked by a girl.” Her eyes glittered and she shook her head at the idea. “Dad would have my head when I undoubtedly bruised their egos.”

He laughed at the image. “Well, if you ever join them out there, I’d better be invited,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ll be front and center, I promise.” Hermione grinned and bid him goodbye for now as he disappeared through the giant doors with the machine.

Unfortunately for her, Hermione didn’t get as much alone time on the ice as she would have liked. She snapped out of her thoughts as the rink door slammed shut. Looking to see who had disturbed her peace this morning, she caught sight of a familiar disarray of dark hair.

“Harry! You’re early.” She smiled, skating up to the edge to greet him.

“I know, I couldn’t sleep. Too anxious about the game this weekend.” He shrugged. “I decided to head over early. You know better than anyone how Dad likes to rag on me for always being half asleep when we get here.” He rolled his eyes with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Figured I’d surprise him today. Looks like you had some fun this morning.” He eyed the ice, seeing Hermione’s trail.

Hermione laughed at her brother’s habit. He was having a good morning - normally, for the entirety of warmups and the first few minutes of drills, she was fairly certain that Harry was sleepwalking. It wasn’t until at least halfway through drills or into the beginning of scrimmage that he really came to life.

She knew that he hated the fact that the conditioning aspect of practice was so early in the morning. Harry could understand and appreciate the work that he needed to be put in to make himself a successful player, but he could go without the 5:30am practices. Even so, he never failed to show up, albeit still half-asleep, every morning.

He laced up his skates and joined her on the ice. Since she was already loose, they spent five minutes taking some slow laps for Harry to warm up. It was quiet; they were just enjoying each other’s company. They punctuated the silence with some light conversation, but mostly they simply enjoyed the emptiness of the air and the sound of their skates cutting through the ice.

Before they knew it, the rest of the team filed in, including their father. “Harry, Hermione! You’re in early this morning, son.” He looked fondly at Harry, ruffling his hair and doing absolutely no favors for its messiness.

Harry shied away from his father’s playful touch, muttering, “Dad, come on.” He hid it well, but Hermione caught the ghost of a smile on his lips as he ducked away.

The Granger family had adopted Harry Potter when he was two after his parents had passed away in a tragic car crash. Harry had miraculously survived, coming away from the horrible accident with a scar on his forehead from a stray shard of glass. Hermione wasn’t religious, but for all intents and purposes, she considered it a miracle. Hermione’s parents, David and Jean, hadn’t known Harry’s family personally, but they’d heard about little Harry through the small-town rumour mill and simply couldn’t resist once they saw those big green eyes.

And so for fifteen years, she and Harry had been inseparable. That applied to the present as well, as she was there to watch when practice commenced. Her dad was a meticulously strategic coach, and he was one of the best. The Lions were tied with their rival team, the Serpents, for number one in their league. The game this coming weekend would determine who would head into the playoffs, and everyone was on edge.

Today, Dad pushed them harder than he normally did, and that was saying something. You knew when you joined his team the reputation that preceded him, and he would accept nothing less than your best effort every time you set as much as a toe on his ice. Or any ice, for that matter.

Although, with how competitive his boys were, it wouldn’t have mattered. David charged the atmosphere with such high energy that it made his boys want nothing more than to live up to the reputation he provided. They loved having a coach that made it his primary goal to see them thrive and succeed under his leadership, and they all strived for greatness.

Harry, the ever-enthusiastic team captain, led the warmups with fervor he could only have channeled from his father. Hermione sat down on the bench to observe, taking a drink from the water bottle next to her. Before the team moved into drills from warmups, David gathered them all around for a motivating speech.

“Now, this is our last practice before the big game this weekend.” The team looked on reverently, nodding along and hanging on his every word. “Not to mention, one of your last regular season games ever.” Some of the boys - Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean - were seniors, as well as Hermione, and they were aging out of the league.

David continued on. “We face the Serpents on Saturday. They’re a good team, but we’re better. It would be a mistake to underestimate them or get cocky, so I expect every one of you to give it your all - both today and this weekend. We’ve got this!”

“Yeah!” the boys echoed, nearly bouncing on their toes as the excitement bubbled through them. Hermione smiled at their enthusiasm. She really did love them and how deep their love of the sport ran.

“We all know that Coach Malfoy is very strategic, both on and off the ice. The Serpents will be well prepared and well practiced. We know to watch Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini. They’re extremely talented on the offense. Harry, Ron, we’ve discussed how best to cover them - I trust you’ve got that.”

Hermione knew that Draco Malfoy was one hell of a forward - everyone did, and it had set the entire team on edge this week. He had been their number one rival for years, ever since he had picked a fight with Harry and Ron when they were eight. Malfoy had a habit of picking up on what he perceived to be your weakness. He poked and prodded the two of them about petty things such as their skill sets, personal statistics, and horrible ‘your mom’ jokes, and they had been sworn enemies since that day. Sometimes it seemed like they saved up insults throughout the year to use on each other.

For instance, there was a fight two years back between Malfoy and Ron and it was as unoriginal as it usually was. Ron wasn’t as privileged as some other boys on the team, and Malfoy was very well off due to his father’s occupation. Draco Malfoy’s uncanny ability for pinpointing people’s greatest weaknesses, and shooting jabs directly at those sore spots, meant that Ron was often on their receiving end.

Hermione shuddered as she recalled the crack of a broken nose and the black eye that had come from it. She had a feeling that this game was going to be extra brutal this year since it was their last one.

“Alright boys, let’s get to it - no time to waste. Break!” The team dispersed and skated off.

She sat back and observed. Hermione had always found skating to be one of the most graceful arts there were. Even in a sport that was as fast paced as hockey, the fluency with which they moved was beautiful to her. She adored it, and she loved watching the boys perform and thrive so well under her dad’s guidance.

Practice ended a grueling two hours later, they hit the showers, and the countdown began.


After a full anxiety-riddled week, Saturday - gameday - finally rolled around. Harry and Hermione made it to the rink an hour and a half early, beating the rest of the team in order to decompress and warm up. Even though Hermione wasn’t playing, her nerves were wound in a tight bundle for the lot of them. She knew how important this game was for everyone - they all wanted to make the playoffs so desperately, and she wanted it for them just as much.

As bad luck would have it, they weren’t alone with their nerves for long.

“Well, well, well - would you look at that. They forgot to dispose of last night’s trash. That’s unfortunate.” Draco Malfoy walked in, loud and boisterous as ever.

He had grown since the last time Hermione had seen him. His hair was pale and slicked back loosely, though some pieces of fringe had fallen into his dark eyes. His face was a bit less pointy, like it had been in recent years, and was now more angular and sharp. He had filled out and finally fit his frame nicely - before, he’d been too lanky for his tall figure. It was clear that he was on a first name basis with the gym. She could see the heavy bands of muscle bulge on his arm through his thin dri-fit shirt sleeve.

Had it really only been a year since she had seen him? Hermione’s heart stuttered in her chest. They tended to avoid each other, although not on purpose. They went to rival schools, and only met when their teams played during the season. She supposed it had been long enough, but how much could really change in that amount of time? Hermione was suddenly self-conscious. She was sure she looked just the same.

Hermione threw venom and anger into her voice to counteract her horrible, traitorous female hormones. “Fuck off, Malfoy.” She grabbed on tight to Harry’s arm so she could tug him away before Malfoy could dig too far under his skin and into his head before the game. That was the last thing they needed.

Both of Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Ooh, she came out to play today. Does the kitten have claws? I’d love to find out.” He winked at her, stopping her in her tracks.

Hermione didn’t have the mental capacity to ground herself quickly enough to conjure a good retort. Harry stepped in before she could gather herself. “Watch it, Malfoy,” he seethed. His green eyes were flat and sparkling with anger, the apples of his cheeks flushed.

Malfoy threw his head back and laughed, a loud bellowing sound that echoed and bounced off the domed ceiling. His eyes dropped back to meet hers, and they were filled with mirth. “I think she can handle herself, Potter. In fact, I’m sure of it. Granger has clearly grown up.” A slow smirk bloomed on his face as he looked her up and down once.

So maybe she had changed a bit.

Her jaw was on the floor, and she felt like a fish out of water while he sauntered casually past them to head to the locker room. Snapping out of it, she tugged Harry back towards their bench. “Come on,” she said, both visibly and audibly flustered, “we have warmups to do.”


You know how in the movies time slows down when things are tense, so nail-biting, and you feel like your heart might just beat right out of your chest?

That was never how things were in reality. If that were the case, then you would have time to thoroughly examine every little detail before you made a decision, and you could even map out the consequences of the action.

There were two minutes and twenty eight seconds left on the clock. As luck would have it, they were tied, despite Ron managing to get himself a two minute penalty for high-sticking Zabini. Weasley had an affinity for blowing up on the ice - his temper was as fiery as the team’s colors - but he was their best shot by far.

The Serpents’ team that was on the ice right now was the best they’d had in years. Their players were Malfoy, Nott, Pucey, Warrington, and Bletchley. Zabini was their goalie, and he was fierce in his defense of the goal. It would take a miracle to get anything by him.

Not to mention the fact that the Lions were currently without their sharpest shooter, they were royally screwed. Hermione stared at the rink, the boys moving so quickly they were blurs of green and red, and was barely aware of her dad screaming at them. Her heart was pounding, and she was scared to blink for fear she would miss something crucial. Her fingertips dug painfully into her palm - it was a good thing she had bitten all of her nails off or her hand would be bleeding something awful right now.

The Lions had a lot of work to do in the little time remaining if they had any hope of winning without going into overtime. The boys were fighting harder and moving faster than she had seen in any other game. Malfoy had the puck and was skating viciously towards the Lion’s goal, white plumes of hot air bursting from his mouth with each heaving breath. Harry was hot on his tail, almost matching him skate for skate. In one sudden swipe of his stick, he successfully intervened and stole it right out from under Malfoy. With just fifteen seconds on the clock, Harry used a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, turned, and shot the puck right into the Serpents’ net.

She heard Malfoy’s enraged roar fill the rink as she allowed a grin to split her face in two. Meeting Harry’s eyes for a brief moment, they shared a hopeful look. If the Serpents didn’t score within the next fourteen seconds, the Lions would advance to the playoffs. Coach Malfoy called for their last time out, and her blonde hair swished with the wind their team created as they skated up to her to hear the final strategy.

Hermione took notice of Lucius Malfoy in the stands right next to the Serpents’ bench. His eyes were trained on the team as they huddled around his wife, and he had a big fathead of Malfoy’s face on a stick that he would raise every time his son did something exciting. She smiled at the sight - he was lucky his parents were so supportive. As far as she knew, Lucius had a reputation for being at every single game. How could he not, when his son was the star player and his wife was the successful coach? She too had a reputation for being a strategy genius - quiet but deadly.

Heart pounding in her ears, the next fourteen seconds moved even slower than the previous two and a half minutes. But, by sheer luck alone, they did it. The buzzer sounded, and she joined her father and the boys on the ice in celebration. This was the part she loved the most. The moment when all their work had paid off and the happiness was tangible in the air. It encased the group as they rallied around each other, yelling and cheering and laughing. For a split second, she turned and met Malfoy’s eyes as he left the ice. He looked dejected, but there was something else there that she didn’t understand.

After the game, the team headed into the locker room, and Hermione made her way into her dad’s office to go over the riveting last few moments of the tight game. Her mom had been taking videos of their games for her dad to review since they were in the little leagues. She was bouncing with complete and total excitement, so much so that she was almost glowing with it. The pair chatted for a moment until Harry joined them, still sweaty and red-faced, and she hugged him tightly, continuing to glow from their success, before he headed to shower.

Hermione had just exited her dad’s office and was making her way into the lobby of the rink when she saw it. Nott and Harry - eyes flat with sparks of anger, nostrils flared: a sign of the fight to come. It was seconds away - there was no way she could get there in time. She took one tentative step in their direction, not sure of what she was planning to do - just that she wanted to be close when it spiralled downhill and out of control.

And then she watched it all go to shit in a matter of seconds. She watched Nott step up to Harry’s challenge, both physically and verbally it seemed, cocking his head to the side in a dangerous and foreboding way. Harry’s face grew the darkest she’d ever seen it, and Nott’s smirk looked an odd mixture of vicious and victorious as they simultaneously stepped toward each other, knowing they were dancing towards a fight.

The only thing she could think of that would piss Harry off that much that quickly would be an insult directed at either his adopted family or his birth parents and their untimely demise. He was a generally calm person but, when his family came into play, he lost all sense of self until he was grounded again. If she had to take a guess as to what Nott was prodding him about, it would be that, but she had no way of knowing.

Hermione watched Nott pull his arm back in response to something her brother had said, preparing for a punch the same way she imagined you’d cock a gun, and before she knew it she was running toward them.

It had turned from a single punch into a full-blown fight within the blink of an eye as the sounds of yelling filled the air and she heard her father shouting after her. There was blood from the both of them flowing from their noses and mouths onto the concrete flooring, and it made her stomach churn with nausea.

Hermione blew through the remainder of the distance to get to her brother, and tried her best to grab his arm as she came up behind him. She reached to take hold of his arm, but she got too close.

Harry’s elbow connected hard with her nose as he reared it back to punch Theo again, sending her flying backwards, the back of her head slamming into the ground as she fell. Through all of the sensations that were barraging her at once, she catalogued that her nose was causing her the most pain. Her hands flew up to cup her nose in pain and she yelled out, standing on shaky legs to try to retreat from the danger. Hermione felt dizzy and discombobulated, and she heard someone quickly approaching and yelling her surname in a panicked voice.

“Granger? Granger, what the hell are you doing? Are you alright? Can you walk?”

The far-away voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it through her blinding pain and the severe disorientation it had caused her. Hermione struggled to see much beyond her own blood-soaked fingers against her face and the fresh tears clouding her eyes.

As they spilled over, clearing her vision momentarily, she caught sight of ice-blonde hair. Everything blurred together for one more second as she swayed.

“Oh god, you’re going to pass out aren’t you,” Malfoy groaned, though it sounded like more to himself than to her.

She dropped, passed out cold into his expectant arms, but not before she heard him roar, “Fuck! Potter, I’m going to fucking kill you!”


It was the headache that woke her, the incessant throbbing behind her eyes that yanked her rudely from the pulls of sleep. Hermione groaned, pressing her fists against her eyes before hissing in pain and pulling them away abruptly. She registered a low chuckle from the other side of the room and blinked away the remnants of her unconsciousness, turning to face the sound.

She was in the trainer’s room, but couldn’t quite remember why. She deduced that the pain in her face had something to do with that. She also registered that she was in the opposing team’s locker room. Finally, she looked at the laugh’s owner, and was shocked by that more than anything else.

“Malfoy?” Her voice conveyed copious amounts of both confusion and apprehension. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Her eyes met his. “What happened?”

Malfoy sported a cut on his eyebrow that certainly hadn’t been there when she saw him before the game, as well as a split lip. She was scared to look at his hand for fear it would showcase bruised and bloodied knuckles.

His eyebrows shot up, but he looked concerned more than shocked. He rose slowly, not trying to disorient her, and walked toward her, leaning onto his forearms as he placed his hands against the doctors’ table she was laid out on.

“Nott and Potter got into a fight, you stupidly tried to break it up, and got elbowed hard in the process.” She tried to furrow her eyebrows in confusion before realizing it hurt to do so. Thankfully, he continued without much prompting. “Potter accidentally elbowed you while gearing up to punch Theo’s dumb ass and slammed your head into the ground. It knocked you out, and so you’re in the trainers’ office now. You’ve been out for half an hour.”

She looked up to the clock on the wall, squinting to try to make out the numbers.

He continued on, filling her in on the very eventful half hour that she’d missed. “Your father is furious. I’m fairly certain the entire league will be talking about it for months.” Malfoy snickered at the memory.

“What were they fighting over in the first place?” asked Hermione. She wondered if he would tell her the truth.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was more concerned about getting you help than I was about Theo’s dumb ass.” He rolled his eyes. “But if I had to guess, it was probably him being a dick and picking on Potter’s parents.”

Sighing in resignation, she continued on. “Do I even want to know why you have those?” She gestured to his face.

Malfoy sighed deeply, and pressed on. “I may have... gotten a bit upset with Potter.” The fingers of his right hand unconsciously grazed the split knuckles on his left. He at least had the decency to look sheepish. “I was so angry with him for hurting you - it was a careless thing to do.” She tried to cut in, to defend Harry, but he held up his hand, halting her words. “I know it was an accident, but Potter should have known you would pull something like that.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Anyone who knows you could have predicted that. At the very least, he should have been paying attention to his surroundings. You could have been seriously hurt. For fuck’s sake, Granger, you’re sporting what is more than likely a broken nose, two black eyes, and a concussion.” He looked positively enraged, so much so that he was almost glowing with the intensity of it.

The coagulated cut on his eyebrow had broken open and started bleeding again, trickling down his face in a small stream.

Hermione nodded slowly, it all coming back to her in pieces. There was one aspect she was still confused about. She tilted her head to the side and cleared any hesitation from her voice. “Why are you here?”

The question should have been obvious, but it caught him off guard - that much she could see on his face. She watched as he considered his words carefully. “Well, your dad is busy lecturing your nitwit brother in his office. The trainer left just before you woke up to go look for some heavier painkillers, and I felt bad leaving you alone.” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “I was the one who brought you here. I wanted to make sure there was no lasting brain damage, although I sincerely doubt Potter has that much strength in him.” Malfoy smiled lightly. Through all of the information he’d given her, there was a factor he hadn’t included that made the entire equation not quite add up.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, ignoring the searing pain it caused. “You’re leaving something out, aren’t you?”

His gaze avoided hers, flitting everywhere and finally taking a keen interest in the cement wall behind her head. “Nope. Not a thing.” His fingers were drumming rapidly against the smooth upholstery of the table. She shifted slowly into an upright position, throwing her legs over the side of the table in order to fit him in between. She made the action seem much more nonchalant than she felt.

She pretended to be changing the subject, but decided to take minuscule steps in the direction she was going and prayed he wouldn’t notice. She started off slow. “So, why would you wait for me to wake up? Why not just drop me off and go?”

He snorted incredulously. “Because as much as I may have you convinced, I’m not a dick, Granger.” He almost looked offended. “I have the common decency to wait for you to wake up and make sure you’ll live to see another day. Plus, your family seemed indisposed with trying to deal with the boys. Your father was a bit preoccupied with trying to make sure it didn’t turn into both of our teams brawling with each other.” She nodded. That made sense - she knew how bad fights could get. “It didn’t feel right to just leave you here alone and unconscious. You never know - something worse could have happened and I would have hated myself for it.”

Hermione couldn’t possibly fight him on that. “Fair enough, I suppose.” As much as he tried to project nonchalance, she had caught the slight crack in his voice when he said the word ‘hated.’

She paused. “Then why not leave me with Ron or Seamus? That way you could go home and get out of here. I can’t imagine hanging around me after that game could be fun.”

“Making sure you were okay was more important.” The instant it was out of his mouth he looked like he wanted to take it back. He scrambled to compensate for the shocked expression she knew must be on her face at that outburst. “I mean that in the sense that you were a liability, of course. You were passed out on the floor of the rink after you hit your head. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t sue my father or his company.” His expression was a cool mask, completely unreadable.

That’s right. The Malfoy family came from heaps of old money and owned the rink they played in, as well as many others in the area. His answer made sense in theory, but the way his gut instinct was to tell her that she was more important? That spoke volumes to her. Anything after that answer was irrelevant until she uncovered the truth - if he was willing to give it to her.

This was....a revelation. If the undertones she thought she had picked up on during this conversation was correct, then it would make for a very interesting one. Granted, she didn’t know Draco Malfoy very well, but it was clear he knew her - or at least, had tried to as much as he could. That was important to her. She knew her love language was acts of service, and she truly cherished effort more than a lot of things. It made her nervous.

And depending on his next few answers, she would have to really consider how she felt about him. And how she felt about being with him.

Hermione was taking a huge leap here, and if she was wrong, she was going to regret this decision for the rest of her pathetic life.

“Do you like me, Malfoy?” She twisted her voice into what she sincerely hoped was a convincing purr. She’d never made this sound before, let alone even attempted to. His head snapped in her direction and his eyes locked onto hers; in them she saw what might be a long-buried emotion she was hesitant to identify.

It must have been the disorientation that possessed her. She pushed on, praying to God that what she thought she’d pinpointed while he was telling his rendition of the day’s events was accurate. Malfoy was frozen, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as they observed her. He almost looked like he was scared to move, to break whatever spell she had put him under.

“Because it sounded to me, at least from the way you told the story, that there’s something you need to admit.” She smiled up at him, doing her best to raise a lone brow despite the pain. “’Anyone who knows me?′ ‘You could have been seriously hurt?’ It sounds to me like you’ve been keeping tabs on me for quite some time. Oh, and not to mention that little display before the game,” she continued. “Or was that just to piss off my brother?” His eyes had never left hers, and his breathing was coming quicker now. She wasn’t even sure if he’d blinked.

“I’m not trying to make fun of you, Malfoy. If I’m wrong, then you get to mock me for having a big head, and some nerve, but if I’m right...” She trailed off. “Then I guess you’ll find out.” Hermione shrugged. God, she had no idea what was going through his mind. She was panicking, her heart beating faster than it had during the end of the game. She was almost positive she was blushing.

“How long have you known?” His voice was cracked, barely a whisper. His eyes were closed now, head tilted down, his knuckles white and straining as he clenched them hard against the edge of the table.

Hermione gasped, not actually believing she could possibly be right. “What?”

“I said,” he rasped, pausing as if reconsidering what he was doing before continuing, “how long have you known?” Malfoy’s teeth were clenched, and it sounded like it took a lot of effort for him to push the words out.

“I...it was just a guess. A shot in the dark. I wasn’t fully sure, but I’d suspected. I wasn’t expecting to actually be right.” She sounded hesitant. The last thing she wanted was to set him off. “How long have you...”

“A while.” He laughed once, a short and humourless sound. “I guess if I had to pinpoint it it would be four years ago, around this time. I saw you warming up with Potter on the ice long before a game and you just looked so... fluid. It was mesmerizing.” His eyes grew distant, only seeing some far off memory. “And then... he left to change, and you had the rink to yourself. And I watched you fall in love with it. The fresh ice, the bite in the air, the feeling of skating. I just watched it happen. I still don’t know how to explain it, but that was it for me.” His eyes were still closed.

“I only saw you a few times a year, but that was enough for the time being. It had to be, right?” He just looked so... sad. Hermione reached her hand up slowly and cupped his cheek, raising his face up so she could see his eyes. He leaned into her touch, sighing contentedly.

“And I get it - there’s no chance of anything coming from this conversation, but at least now you know.” Malfoy finally met her eyes. He looked relieved and terrified at the same time. He had just bared his soul to her, his four year long unrequited crush, and it was obvious he had no idea how to proceed from here.

“Draco Malfoy,” she started softly. “If you know me so well, then you should know that I hate people jumping to conclusions about me more than anything else.”

Malfoy looked cautiously optimistic at her implication, like he was scared to understand, let alone believe the meaning that lay beneath the words.

“I’ll admit that I haven’t quite been... pining for you all these years like you apparently have for me, but I’ve never found you... undesirable, so to speak.” The corner of her mouth quirked up into a shy smile as she gently brushed his hair away from his eyes. “You’re quite easy on the eyes, especially lately.” He smiled at her. “But I don’t think I’d be at all opposed to getting to know you. I simply never indulged in the idea, since I just sort of figured you were out of my league.” She laughed.

Her mind was whirling, heart pounding. This was... unprecedented. Before today, she’d never paid him much mind. He was popular in the hockey world - and she was positive in his own world at school as well. The Malfoy name carried a significant amount of weight around here. It had been long since established that he had options, so it blew her mind that he had been drawn to her of all people. Not, of course, that she was complaining. She realized she wouldn’t be opposed to him at all - she had just never thought it feasible.

At that, he looked at her in blatant shock, recoiling in surprise as his eyebrows shot up so far they almost melted into his hairline. “Where would you possibly get that idea?”

“Well, I would think it sort of obvious. Look at you, and then look at me.”

He stared deep into her eyes, finally letting her see every emotion that had evidently lay dormant for years, and murmured, “I have been.”

Inhaling softly in pleasure and blushing at his compliment, she gathered every ounce of courage she possessed and leaned forward to kiss him.

He kissed her back like a man taking his first breath after having been denied air his whole life. It felt like he was chasing the remnants of a longtime prayer that he’d always thought was falling upon deaf ears.

It was too much. She pulled back sharply, wincing, reaching up to feel her nose. “Ow.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Granger. I got caught up.” Malfoy’s fingers reached up to push her messy curls behind her ears. “Can I try again? I promise I’ll be gentle.” His eyes were pleading, not ready to let her go just yet.

Hermione leaned back into him slowly, and he sighed happily as he captured her lips with his own. This kiss was soft, gentle, sweet - and she hated that they had to hold back because of her nose. Although, without the fight and her winding up in the trainer’s office to begin with, she wouldn’t be in this position at all.

Her lips parted to let him in, and he accepted what she gave him greedily, as if she’d never allow him to do this again. Which, she realized, for all he knew, she might not. So Hermione indulged him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in closer to her as she coiled her hands around his neck and her fingers reached up to thread through his hair.

Malfoy groaned against her lips as he gathered her into his arms and crushed her body against his. Their hips were closer together than she’d expected and, to her surprise, she could feel him growing hard against her. Making a split second decision, she parted from him and asked breathlessly, “How long until the trainer comes back?”

His hair was already disheveled. A slow grin lifted his lips as he said, “Yeah?”

Hermione almost couldn’t believe her head was nodding in confirmation. “Yeah. You’ll have to be careful though. I don’t know how much more jostling my nose can take.” She grimaced. “I’m sure I’ll regret this tomorrow for the pain, but I honestly can’t find it in me to care right now.”

His lips met her throat as his kisses stuttered down her neck. “Don’t worry, Granger,” he whispered, hot against her skin. “I’ve got you.”

Her eyes rolled back as she moaned lowly, feeling her pulse stutter against his lips. His fingers reached to tease lightly into the waistline of her leggings, and she shuddered as goosebumps raised against his touch.

Malfoy’s lips moved slowly up her throat, landing to kiss at the skin behind her earlobe, and Hermione shook and subconsciously tilted her hips up to meet his fingers. He chuckled at her excitement and muttered into her ear, “Oh, you like that?”

She whimpered against his lips and urged his fingers further. He happily obliged by reaching into her leggings and brushing his fingers over her panties. “Fuck, Granger,” he moaned in her ear. “Feels to me like you need this just as bad as I do, yeah?” She could hear the need and lust that was laced through his voice. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” He leaned in to kiss her again and, just as his lips parted hers once more, his fingers slipped under her panties to run them through her entrance, just barely ghosting against her clit. “Picturing just how good you’ll feel, so tight and wet around me.” Her hips bucked into his fingers of their own accord, and she felt his grin under her lips.

“Come on, Draco, please,” she half-whined and half-whispered. “We don’t have much time.”

He sighed. “I’ll have to take my time with you next time, I suppose.” His tone was almost mocking, but the genuine anticipation behind it couldn’t be hidden.

Hermione’s heart faltered in her chest. “Next time?” she asked.

He looked at her again. “What, you thought this would be a one-off? Nah, Granger. Sorry to disappoint,” he smirked, and then his expression turned serious and his fingers stilled. “Unless...that’s what you want?”

“I told you I’d like to get to know you, Draco. And I meant it.” She smiled up at him.

The sigh of relief he let out was massive and oh-so telling. “Thank God,” he breathed. “I wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.”

Their lips met once more, and he almost tore her leggings off in an effort to strip her bare as quickly as possible. His fingers slid inside her easily, and his face dropped into the crook of her neck as he emitted a noise that fell somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Holy shit, Granger,” he moaned, hot into her skin. “You feel so—” His sentence broke off on a sharp inhale as she started to roll her hips to take his fingers deeper. “Fuck, you’re incredible. So good.”

She felt the pleasure mounting steadily as his fingers massaged that spot inside her that made her slick with need. “You have no idea how much power you have over me, Granger,” he breathed. “You could ask me for the fucking moon while you have me like this and I swear to God I’d find a way to give it to you on a silver fucking platter.” The reverence in his voice while he fucked her with his fingers was both mesmerizing and intoxicating. She breathed him in, squeaking as his thumb found her clit. “I could do this forever. You feel fucking sublime. I’m gonna think about you like this for months.”

His words were turning her into more of a sopping mess than she already was. She found herself balancing on the precipice, so close to tumbling over. “Draco, I—” A moan fell from her lips, words failing to describe what she was feeling. By some miracle, he knew what she was trying to say.

“You wanna fall apart for me? You gonna come all over my fingers, Granger?” he panted, speeding up his ministrations.

Hermione nodded desperately, head lolling back. As she began to tighten, her body coiling and preparing to sing for him, he stopped. She looked up at him. “Please don’t stop,” she was too far gone to be embarrassed by the fact that she was begging him. At this point, she’d most likely give him anything he wanted.

“As much as I’d love to feel you clench my fingers, you’re only gonna be coming on my cock today.” He pushed his sweatpants down and freed himself. He breathed a sigh of relief as he ran the tip of his shaft through her wetness. They both held their breath in anticipation. She took a moment to let herself worry about the trainer, but was distracted as he started to push into her at a snail’s pace.

Her eyes flew back to meet his as he reached down to spread her thighs apart, watching his face as he disappeared inside of her. Her mouth dropped open and his eyes fell shut as he bottomed out, and she pulsed around him, still precariously close to the edge.

“Oh my God, Granger, you’re fucking perfect, you feel so—” He inhaled harshly as she clenched around him, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. “So much fucking better than I imagined.” She moaned, and it slipped out louder than she anticipated. “Shh...as much as I’d love to hear you, we can’t have anyone else hearing us, now can we? That would be indecent.”

He moved faster, speeding up. “Just imagine the trainers coming back and watching me pound you, fucking you so hard, right into the table.” His teeth nipped at her earlobe. “What do you think they would say? Do you think they would watch? I know I want to watch us fuck. We’ll have to get a mirror for next time.” She whined at his sinful words that were filled with heat and dark promises, and he swallowed the sound as he kissed her once more.

“Come on Granger. Please come for me. I need to feel you.” She was so close, the pressure mounting, the knot in her stomach winding so tight that her body felt hot—it was like she was on fire. Draco leaned in to kiss away a drop of sweat that was trailing down the side of her face and licked his lips. Her eyes fluttered in pleasure at the sight of him like this—she was fighting to keep them open, to keep watching him. He reached down between them to rub her clit gently, in stark contrast to how hard he was fucking her, and the pleasure crested until finally, finally, she shook and exploded.

Draco moaned against her lips as he felt her tighten and flutter around him. “Yeah, come on, that’s it. Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me. You look so pretty when you come for me,” he cooed as he fucked her through her orgasm, keeping up his pace. He was trying to drag every ounce of it from her before he followed her over the edge.

Her ripples faded, but he didn’t stop. He chased his orgasm relentlessly until Hermione clenched around him once more and looked up at him with those big brown eyes of hers and begged, “Please, Draco. Please come for me. I want to feel you so badly.” It was the echo of his earlier plea falling desperately from her tongue that was the final blow for him.

He stilled inside of her, finally diving headfirst into his orgasm and biting back a groan. He was gripping her thighs so tight that it almost hurt her, but she didn’t complain. He rode out his orgasm while she stared up at his face, observing his ecstasy as it totally engulfed his being.

She was reeling. Not just in the fact that he had just given her one of the best orgasms she’d ever had, but in the fact that Draco Malfoy had been all hers for so long and she’d never known. Maybe, she thought, that was why he was. Because she asked, didn’t take until he offered.

Their breaths slowed and he pulled out of her slowly, buttoning himself up and handing her a damp towel. She pulled her leggings back on after wiping herself clean, feeling the muscles in her legs already starting to protest. “I’m going to be sore in so many ways tomorrow,” she groaned.

Draco chuckled, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry Granger, I’ll be right there with a hot compress, plenty of painkillers, and some chocolate to keep you company.”

Hermione looked at him in wonder, blushing. “Really? I would have never had you pegged for the doting type.”

Draco smiled back at her, resting his hand against the side of her face. “Only for you, Hermione. And when I told you you’re stuck with me now, I wasn’t joking.” He brushed her sweaty hair from her eyes. “I have you right where I’ve always dreamed you’d be. You’re going to have to fight to get rid of me now,” he said, winking at her.

“Maybe so, but you’ll have some wooing to do when it comes to my dad and Harry,” she said, sounding more confident about it than she felt.

“Oh, I look forward to it. I’m only an insufferable git when I’m on the ice. Off the ice I like to think I’m not all that bad. We just played into the rivalry for the fun of it - not to mention making the game more intense - but I’m fairly skilled at getting parents to like me, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he said as he mussed her hair.

Just then, the trainer returned, pushing through the door and rattling a bottle of extra strength aspirin. “Found it!” he said. “Sorry it took so long. I had to really dig through storage to find a full bottle. Quite a hassle, really. I hope it wasn’t too painful to wait.” The look he gave was apologetic and concerned.

Draco and Hermione shared a sly smile. “It’s fine,” Hermione said. “Draco was very adept at helping me through the pain.”

The trainer looked relieved. “Oh, good, yes. Mr. Malfoy is well acquainted with working through injuries by now I believe. He’s been dealing with them for quite some time.” He turned away to look at her paperwork, and she looked back at Draco.

He met her eyes and shot her a private wink, and happy chills shot through her. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

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Sara: So far, everything seems to be well written and keeps my interest. I gave all high marks in hopes to encourage the writer to continue.

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NAT : Me gusta en si todo el libro 💜

dicipulo52: Historia bella con muchos matices y claro sexo gracias por escribir ❤️💕💕💋💋


Samara: Me encantó que no fue apresurada la historia que nos hizo felices durante y hasta el final de esta!

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