He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!" DM/HG. PostHBP.


16. Snowy

Draco's mouth was still damp from their kiss.

He collapsed into the couch, closing his eyes tight and cradling his face with sweaty palms, as the chill coiled around him. He had no idea if he was shaking from the cold, or from the painful pangs that made his chest feel close to rupturing, and he felt completely lost. Despite his perpetual insistences that Granger and this place had driven his mind to ruin, he realised now that her presence actually soothed the turbulent thoughts rattling around his skull. Her twenty days of silence had been torture; his solitude leading to more doubts about blood and what he wanted from Granger.

The echoes of his father's voice and his preconceptions of Muggle-borns were distorted and fragile now; barely whispers in the corners of his mind. It angered and scared him that she had had such an effect on his resolve, but there was also a drugging sense of relief that he didn't quite understand. Kissing and touching her was like cresting the most unusual sense of peace; and while he felt completely lost, it was a…good lost. He imagined it was similar to the bliss one was supposed to experience when drowning, and he was certainly drowning.

And she had just left him here; frustration crackling under his skin and fighting sanity-slicing images of her with Corner. In the back of his battered brain, he knew that Granger was good on her promise that she and that Raven-bore prick were nothing more than friends, but the jealousy ate away at him anyway. He felt capable of a murderous rampage every time his imagination cooked up a picture of them, but what could he do? Nothing, but simmer.

His fingernails stabbed into his temple as another wave of resentment struck him, and he gulped down the bile that had started to scorch his windpipe. A deep and guttural growl made his whole body vibrate, and he willed himself to stay seated, knowing he would most likely slam his fist into the wall until his knuckles were shrapnel if he moved from the couch.

He had no idea how long it had been since she'd left him, barely minutes probably, but it felt like his loneliest hour.

He had always been so…trained and disciplined with his behaviour, but a mere moment alone in a room with her had him being completely driven by his urges, and that petrified him. Control was essential, but his brain might as well be spattered against the wall for all the good it was doing right now. There was a massive gap in his head, which his prejudices had once occupied, and now it was just becoming stocked with her instead.

Her words.

Her face.

Her scent, her smiles, her sighs.


He snapped his head up when the door opened, and it completely knocked the air out of him when he realised that she'd come back. Her breathing was erratic and her face rosy-flushed, and her curls had returned to their wild state, framing her face perfectly. Between the heaves of her chest and her dilated eyes, she looked bewildered but bloody edible. The soft sway of her inky-blue dress waved at him, and he was on his feet in a heart's thud; acting solely on instinct.

They locked eyes across the room, and the confusion and tension practically rippled between them, and Draco willed himself to remain stoic. He could very well be getting ahead of himself; Granger might have simply forgotten something, and it would do him no favours to get his hopes up. But from the anxious expression carved into her pretty features, he could tell she was here for a specific reason, and a knot of excitement and apprehension clotted his gut.

His feet began to move of their own accord.

He needed to get to her before she over-analysed the situation and made another break for it, leaving him behind once again to stew in her shadow. He was beyond trying to suppress his want for her tonight, and perhaps if they could just…accept the unavoidable spark, she would be out of his system, and it would be the end of his irrational weakness for her.

"I…I have no idea what I'm doing here," Hermione mumbled as he stopped right in front of her.

Draco was struggling not to grab her and cement the inevitable, so he settled for tentatively raising his hand to cup her cheek and trace her lip-line with his thumb. He felt her heavy swallow, and he stepped closer into her space as she sealed her eyes from him. He could imagine the internal debate going on behind her fluttering lids, and he held his breath as she parted her lips.

"I just…" she whispered with obvious nerves. "I just wanted one night to-

"One night," he agreed for sanity's sake, before swiftly slicing the final inches between them.

Her sigh of surrender tickled his tonsils as he latched onto her mouth; finding she tasted of blueberries and promises tonight, and it was intoxicating. The lustful twitch in his stomach quickly came back to life as he gorged on her with all the frustration she had left him with. He clutched her sides possessively and held her firmly in place, adamant that she would not escape this again; not that she gave him any indication that she intended to.

While Hermione's kisses and gestures were slightly timid, there was no hesitation, and she matched his passion with a perfect pace that left her feeling light-headed. She planted her palms on his face and laced her fingernails into his snow-soft hair so she could pull him a little closer. Godric, she was petrified, but it was exhilarating to have him doing such wonderful and brain-damning things to her mouth.

She had no idea where the bold impulse came from, but she dragged her hands down his chest and tugged at the seam of his black jumper. Her fingertips grazed across his skin as she shifted the material up his torso, and Draco broke their kiss to help her; roughly yanking it over his head and tossing it to the side.

Hermione took the stolen seconds to let her eyes wander over his naked skin. He was a hypnotising shade of moonlight; not too muscular or lean, just beautifully seeker-built with lines and curves that begged to be touched.

She barely managed to release an admiring gasp before they were kissing again; fast and frantic like time-fated lovers. She ran her curious hands over his chest, feeling him groan against her tongue and tighten the grip on her waist. Her thighs clenched when something sensual tickled behind her navel, and her heartbeats were roaring in her ears.

Draco quickly spun them around, refusing to lose the connection of lips and teeth as he began to guide them to the other side of the dorm with haste-clumsy movements. Hermione hummed into his mouth as he slammed her back into her bedroom door and chewed on her bottom lip. A dazed sigh escaped her as he moved his attention to her throat, sucking softly at her pulse and encouraging a dreamy shiver to waltz down her spine.

"Password, Granger," he rasped breathlessly against her skin.

She blinked and tried to gather her concentration. "Crookshanks," she rushed out, and Draco steadied her as the door gave way.

Her room was dark, save the knowing glow of tenacious moon-rays, and she let it engulf her. It felt secure in here; a safe place to store dangerous secrets and forbidden fantasies, and she angled Draco's face so she could kiss him again, hoping that he would swallow the remainder of her stubborn qualms.

Draco could feel the anxiety in her stance, but as he glided his hands across her shoulder-blades, he felt enough of her tension slip away for him to tug at the straps on her dress. The navy gown pooled at her feet with a hearty thud, and he frowned when he felt her stiffen again.

He pulled back to give her a meaningful look, but he couldn't help but let his hazy stare roam down her shape. His stomach constricted, and he felt himself go harder as he absorbed her; yes, he had imagined her in those pathetic mornings hunched against the wall next to the bathroom, but he had underestimated her appeal. She was more feminine and alluring than the images his brain had conjured; clad in a simple set of blue underwear that was typically practical, but didn't detract from curves and creases that made his eyes dance. By the dim light, her olive skin and tawny features looked like toffee, and for a brief moment, he was completely awe-struck.

Definitely not ugly…or filthy…

Her unease became obvious as her arms moved to cover her body, and he quickly captured her lips again before she had a chance to be stolen by doubt. He'd be damned if he let that happen when he'd come this far.

He slipped his hand between them to unfasten his trousers and manoeuvred them further into the room. With her bed in sight, something he had craved since the couple of nights he had slept in here, he felt his heart thunder against his ribs as she went back to grasping his face with slightly trembling hands. He pushed her, as gently as his need would allow, into the mattress and crawled over her; still feasting on her mouth.

He felt the nerves seize her muscles again as he reached behind to unclasp her bra, and he deepened the kiss to distract her; pleading to non-existent entities that she would abandon logic, like he had.

He grazed his teeth across the bumps of her collarbone and relished the moan that ghosted across his forehead. She was slowly giving in; he could feel it. He knew she could feel his desire pressed against her inner thigh, and he moved his hand between them and wriggled out of his boxers so he could feel flesh against flesh.

His fingers tucked into the hem of her underwear, and he slowly slid them down her thighs, knees and shins with medal-worthy patience. He could feel her vibrating with suspense and uncertainty, and he glanced up to find her bathed in creamy moonlight and watching him with wide and wary eyes. He tilted his head to reach for her mouth again and tried to settle himself between her legs, but her shaky voice made him freeze.

"Draco, wait," Hermione murmured. He flinched as his face lingered above hers, silently vowing to Salazar's soul that if she told him she couldn't do this, he would surrender his mind come morning. She licked her lips and gave him a pleading look, before she forced the delicate words to leave her. "Please go slow."

His brow creased at the implications of her request. "I thought you weren't a vir-

"I'm not," she interrupted; a fiery blush staining her cheeks. "But I…only once."


He realised how much she was giving him then, and he fought hard not to be affected by it. The lusty throbs in his chest ached for a moment with something else; something painfully pleasant that made him decide not to be selfish tonight.

"Put your hands on my shoulders," he directed quietly, waiting until she complied before he continued. "If it hurts, grip as tight as you need to, and bite down on my lip."

His words seemed to soothe her qualms, and she gave him a slow nod of assent before craning her neck to steal a calming kiss. He instantly intensified it, learning her slowly and knowing that it was best to keep her busy while his fingers trailed over her stomach and ducked between her thighs to see if she was ready.

Despite the conflicting notions so obviously scrambling Granger's head, her body was sublime and keen for him; perfectly damp and silky beneath his fingertips. Shoving aside his impatience, he stroked the pad of his thumb over her most sensitive spot, which earned him a timid moan, and he slipped two fingers inside to help prepare her for him. After a few long minutes of rotating his digits, and some more feminine sighs tickling the roof of his mouth, he decided he had waited long enough, and done all he could to relax her.

Draco positioned himself appropriately and Hermione instantly trapped his bottom lip between her teeth. He rubbed her sides in soothing circles as he finally entered her, and her fingernails stabbed into his shoulders as she choked on a whimper. He couldn't help the velvety hiss as she dragged him in; barely noticing her desperate grasp on his shoulders and all sensation rushed south. She was tight with inexperience and panic, and she felt fucking fantastic, but he wanted her to enjoy this.

"Relax," he murmured against her mouth. "It's alright."

He knew she needed to accommodate to him, so he fought his urges and remained still, resting his forehead against hers and hoping that her pain would subside quickly. Carefully easing out and then filling her again, he repeated his painfully slow movements until her fingers had stopped digging into his skin and she freed his lip. He dipped his head to the crook of her neck, remembering that she had been rather fond of his mouth teasing her there, as he quickened his rhythm.

Hermione lost her concentration as the pain ebbed, and she heard her pants grow heavy as his ministrations stirred something inside of her. Each of his strokes seemed to feed the flicker of this foreign sensation just under her stomach, and she instinctively writhed her hips to try and get more. Draco lifted his head to hover his lips over hers; barely touching as his volatile breaths fell into her mouth and tingled her tongue. Their glazed stares locked as a throaty groan rumbled in his chest, and Hermione felt the exquisite knot that he had created swell and tingle.

Draco snaked his arms around her back and sat up, pulling her up with him as he rested back against his haunches. She was flush against his sweat-sodden chest, and he held her head firmly as they kissed again, more fervidly than they ever had, as he adjusted them to the new angle. Knowing that this position would brush against her receptive bud, he rocked his hips in purposeful patterns, before ripping his mouth away to freckle wet pecks over her chest and breasts.

Her little, dulcet sounds were becoming more fervent, and he could feel her muscles starting to tense up around him as she began to quiver in his arms. The heavy hammering of her heart against his lips told him she was close, and he willed himself to restrain the bliss bubbling in his own system.

He'd be damned if he didn't feel her unravel around him.

Hermione finally coughed out a stuttering cry as pulsating heat spread from her core and made her insides clench. Her control was lost as she shuddered gracelessly, and allowed the bizarre but beautiful sensations to consume her. Draco clutched her tightly to him as she came undone, grabbing her face and combing back her brazen mane to witness the wonder in her eyes.

With a few more twists of his hips and the ripples of her rapture around him, Draco felt the bubble in his loins burst and release into her. He smothered his growling groan against her throat and clung to her as she absently soothed him; stroking his hair and sighing against his neck. He shivered as her nails caught the tip of his spine; his breaths calming as the buzz began to fade, and his limbs became lead-heavy.

She was weak in his hold, resting her head against his as she hummed lazy kisses across his shoulders. He slowly eased them back into the pillows, absently grabbing the forgotten covers and shielding them from the chill. Disentangling limbs and flesh, Draco settled next to her on the bed, observing the witch intently as her lashes fluttered and she nibbled her lip. He could feel the awkward silence sneaking up on them as their post-bliss breaths simmered away, leaving them with the inevitable questions and an unwelcoming reality.

"Draco, I-

"Rest, Granger," he told her.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Hermione whispered tiredly; her lids falling shut. "For being…gentle."

He frowned at the affection in her tone, knowing that in a few hours, it would all be different. By the garish rays of morning, he would hate himself for giving in, and she would feel used and betrayed. The night provided them with peace and secrecy, and for that reason alone, he raised his hand to brush away the unruly coffee-curls around her face. She was on the crest of sleep, and she sighed at his touch; mumbling something incoherent as he glided his finger across her eyebrow.

He snatched his hand away when he realised what he was doing, and scolded himself for prolonging the inappropriate intimacy. Leaving would have been logical, but his bones felt burdened and Granger's bed was so warm. He lied down and faced her; not touching, but possibly closer than was necessary, but sleep stole him before he could question it.

He resented tomorrow for being unavoidable.



Hermione woke with sore limbs and a tenderness between her legs that veered between pleasure and pain. With passion-bruised lips and the taste of a Slytherin on her tongue, she cracked open her eyes to scrutinise the still-warm space next to her. She'd expected him to leave, so when her sleepy stare moved and found his silhouette crowding the window frame, she was more than a little surprised.

She carefully sat up so she could see his expression; his pale features set in a pensive frown as he glared out the window. He was fully-dressed, rubbing his chin, and looking too troubled to realise that she was even awake.

"I thought you'd leave," she broke the calm in a scratchy voice.

Draco didn't look at her. "It seemed pointless when you can just wander into my room whenever you like," he told her steadily.

Hermione took a deep breath before she gathered a sheet around her and left the bed, taking slow strides towards him with no idea what she intended to do. When she was close enough, she realised that the view outside was frosted with white, and the dreamy snow was pouring down fast. She couldn't help but gasp as a small smile crawled up her cheeks, oblivious that Draco was studying her now and contemplating dragging her back to bed to extend their forbidden activities. The room was heavy with their mingled scents and it was like an aphrodisiac, but something about her innocent grin niggled at him.

"What are you so bloody happy about?" he questioned sharply, resting his chin against his knuckles in an attempt to appear blasé.

"It's snowing."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

"I have been waiting for it to snow," she said softly.

She was close enough now that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to, but he refrained, even if it was ridiculously tempting. Post-coital mornings suited Granger very well; with her bushy hair and blushing cheeks, and when his eyes caught marks on her neck from his mouth, he felt his groin tighten. He tore his intrigued gaze away from her and clenched his jaw, determined to say his piece and then get out of the room.

"Look, Granger-

"Do you…do you regret what happened last night?" she interrupted uneasily, toying with the sheet between her fingers.

He cringed because he had no idea how to answer that question. "Do you?" he countered instead.

Hermione licked her lips. "No, I don't, and I…I don't think you do either."

"It's irrelevant," he mumbled, averting his eyes. "It shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't happen again-


"Won't," he corrected quickly. "It can't-

"Why?" she pushed boldly, irritated by his dismissal. "Because I'm a Muggle-born?"


"You know, you don't look at me with disgust anymore," she told him calmly. "Quite the opposite, actually-

"What were you hoping to gain from this, Granger?" he asked bluntly. "You know who I am-

"Yes, I do," she agreed. "And I know that you don't really believe all that rubbish, or last night wouldn't have happened-

"Last night was a clear indication that this place has fucked with my head too much-

"Stop it!" she snapped angrily. "Stop trying to blame this on everything else! It's bloody pathetic! You knew what you were doing!"

"And so did you!"

"I'm not denying that!" she shouted. "Do I mean nothing to you?"

He gnashed his teeth and fixed her with a cold look. Merlin knew why, but that comment irked him like hell. "You don't get it, do you?" he sneered. "I am one of them now-

"One of who?"

"A fucking blood traitor!" he shouted, abruptly rising from his seat. "I have screwed over my family, so don't you DARE question how I feel about you!"

Hermione gasped at his outburst, and they both froze in place, barely inches apart. Shock and outrage flickered in Draco's eyes as he realised what he'd said, and he would have given anything to suck the words back in. She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, but he batted it away out of principle, refusing to feel more foolish than he already did.

"Fuck this," he grumbled, heading towards the door. "I'm not doing this now-

"Draco, wait," Hermione called, stalling him before he could reach the door. "I…I'm sorry but I can't live with you after last night if you're going to be like this."

He felt his chest twitch painfully. "What do you mean?"

"If…if you want this to really stop now," she continued in a sad and stuttering tone. "Then I will see if McGonagall can find s-somewhere else for you to stay. I…I can't do this with you anymore. Not after what's happened between us."

Somewhere else? Without her?

The thought alone made him feel physically sick. Things were irrevocably different now; he had seen her bare and uninhibited, and whether they liked it or not, they owned a part of each other. Even when the fingerprints on his shoulders and the dents in his lip had disappeared, the memories would still be there; crisp and clear, and ready for him replay whenever he liked. And the fact of the matter was he wanted more memories, but Merlin knew his pride had already taken a battering this morning.

"And I suppose you want my answer now?"

He heard her sniff behind him. "You have the weekend," she murmured gently. "I want an answer by Monday."

Hermione watched him square his shoulders and push open the door, leaving her behind with the evidence of their intimacy; crumpled sheets and the smell of lust misting the air. She sat at the window and brushed aside her tears, counting snowflakes in a futile effort to detract from how vulnerable she felt at that moment.

She knew that he felt something for her; he had blurted it out himself, and his tenderness from last night had made her feel so safe, but she knew how stubborn he could be. She honestly had no idea if he would choose to stay, or decide that their liaison had gone too far, but she knew that if he left, it would devastate her. She almost regretted her ultimatum, but she refused to look at him everyday and feel discarded; used and then tossed aside because of his crushing pride.

If he chose to remain here, it would be enough for her.



By Sunday evening, Draco was ready to have a hernia.

Granger had left on Saturday morning, no more than an hour after she had dealt him the option of leaving, and she had yet to return. He had no idea where she'd stayed, but at one point, he had actually found himself concerned that something might have happened to her. Logic had caught up with him, and he'd realised that McGonagall would have paid him a visit by now if that had been the case, but nevertheless, his consideration for her well-being had sobered him immensely.

It would have been sensible to accept Granger's offer of an alternate prison and go cold-turkey, but in reality, it had never been an option. She had somehow gone from being the most irritating aspect of this hell, to the reason he was still sane. Without her, he knew that he would crumble like sea-shattered cliffs. He wanted to touch her again; craved her actually, although he had no idea why.

It just…made sense.

He came to the conclusion that it was simply a bi-product of his isolation, and if he needed her to steady his mind until he escaped Hogwarts, then so be it. Once he was free, things would return to normal, and nobody would ever know about his disgraceful behaviour.

Everything that happens in this room remains between us.

He heard the main door open and close, and he listened intently to the tell-tale footsteps of his witch as she went to her room. He could discern the sounds of her shuffling around for a few moments, before she was on the move again, heading to the bathroom this time, and flicking on the shower. The familiar beats of falling clothes roused reminiscent flashbacks of Friday night, and images of navy gowns and olive skin flashed across the backs of his lids.

He thought twice, and then once more before he was on his feet; dangerous intentions making him stiff between the hips.

He'd spent too long imagining her showers.

He crept silently towards the bathroom, hoping that she had forgotten to lock the door, and luck was apparently on his side today. He slipped inside and took a healthy gulp of the cherry-scented steam, carefully beginning to discard his clothes as he eyed Granger's oblivious shadow dancing across the shower-curtain.

His pulse was throbbing loudly in his ears by the time he removed his boxers to the first of Granger's bathroom moans, and he eagerly padded across the floor, and stepped into the cubicle.

He stared at her naked back, following the droplets of water that trickled from her long tresses and landed at the charming dimple just above her buttocks, before sliding down her shapely legs. He reached out to touch her, but the moment his fingers grazed her skin, she whipped around with terrified eyes and feeble attempts to hide her precious parts.

He managed to muffle her scream with a hasty kiss, enjoying the odd sensation of shower-drops gliding between their lips. Hermione squirmed for a few seconds, but she yielded when his thumbs skimmed down the column of her neck and drew feather-soft patterns just under her ears. He slowly pushed her against the tiled wall and frowned when he felt her break the kiss and brace her hands against his chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked between heavy breaths.

It's just until you get out of here…

With the security of his deluded mindset that this would all evaporate once he was out of her room, he set his jaw and gave her a decisive look.

"I'm staying."

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