Big 4 by derryere [NC-17]
Exchange Story for leeharding123
Title: Big
Author: derryere
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Sex 'n DRUGS 'n ROCK AND-- I mean, language.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.
Author Notes/Beta Credits: Okay, a HUGE HONKIN' shout out to sandi_wandi who beta'd this on a supersuper short notice and did an amazing job (Otherwise you'd all be reading about drug dealing squids right now) aaand saved my buttkes. AND!! To yuying_luo, my non-stop support system.
Summary: When it rains, it pours. When you're Draco Malfoy, it's a fucking monsoon.
SOME REASONS
Where misunderstandings make the order or the day
He literally threw himself at her.
With a small shriek Hermione shoved the bag into Draco’s hands, scurrying out of his reach. Draco paid her no heed, embracing the paper bag with a growl. He didn’t even bother closing the door, hungrily seating himself at the table, ripping the paper with no means of withholding.
But after a moment of eyeing the revealed content a groan of disappointed followed.
“Pickles??” he cried. “CAKE and pickles?”
“Hello to you too, Draco,” Hermione replied as she made to close the door. “How am I doing, you ask? I’m doing great, actually, thank you for asking! What? Oh, you’re very welcome. No, no, I know I shouldn’t have, it’s just being around you brings this utter goodness out in me and I just can’t HELP myself-“
“GRANGER!” he interrupted her monologue. She turned around, eyebrows raised in annoyance.
“You’re talking to the door,” Draco informed.
“I know,” she said. “Even the door’s a nicer conversation than you, Draco.”
He made a face of indifference, and pointedly gestured at the food. “You brought me pickles.”
“I brought you what we had left,” she corrected.
“You mean the food that made everyone else puke, right?”
Hermione shook her head, walking around the table to sit on his right hand side. “I can’t be too obvious anymore,” she said, sliding into the chair next to him. “They’re starting to get suspicious, you know.” Hermione paused, looking at the table’s surface somewhat blankly. “Everyone always gets agitated when food’s the subject.”
“That’s great, Granger. Really,” Draco said, reaching for the jar. “I’m sure that story would do wonders with somebody who actually ca…” He stopped mid sentence, his attempts to open the jar proving fruitless. He tapped it once, trying another angle while continuing, “With somebody who ACTUALLY ca…” Draco grunted, closing his eyes in effort.
“God, Malfoy…” She muttered under her breath, taking away his jar and opening it with a soft pop. “It’s your fault, anyway,” she said, shoving the pickles back into his hands. “If you’d start eating something else than those nuts, then you wouldn’t be so hungry all the-“
“What ELSE am I supposed to eat?” he interjected before stuffing his mouth with as much of the sour cucumbers fit.
“Well, you could start by getting over yourself and asking Harry for those-“
“Ahuam ROAT--!” Draco stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “I am NOT asking Potter for some lousy fucking seeds, forget it!”
“Those lousy fucking seeds could save your life,” Hermione replied seriously.
“No they won’t,” he said with a grin. “Not as long you keep feeding me like this.”
Her eyes snapped to his, granting him a cold glare. “Don’t challenge me, Draco,” she snarled. “This could just as well be the last time. Don’t try me.”
For a moment Draco contemplated a reply, but thought it was best not to anger her before he finished the cake.
She vanished his food before. She’d definitely do it again.
At the memory, Draco quickly stuffed the last pickles into his mouth, one after the other, chewing down as fast as he could. After a while he felt her nudging the sleeve of his shirt and quit his action. Looking down, he saw she was trying to roll it up all the way. When Hermione noticed he stopped eating, she looked up, halfway meeting his inquisitive glare.
“Yes, Granger?”
“Roll up,” she ordered. “I’m not staying today, you’re nasty when you’re in a good mood.”
“Well, do you mind?” Draco retorted, nodding at the remaining cake. “I am trying to eat here!”
“You can eat once I’m done,” she said, giving his sleeve another hearty yank up.
“ALRIGHT!” he exclaimed, prodding his arm out of her grip. “Alright, woman! Jeez, give me a second before you rip my shoulder off!”
Hermione cocked a brow while leaning back, crossing her arms in expectation. Draco shot her a hateful glare before turning to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one solely to upset her. Once that was done, he made to take his right arm out of the sleeve with such delicate care and awareness he could hear Hermione grind her teeth. It was when he made a small noise of ‘ouch!’ when the cloth touched his skin that she had enough.
“For Circe’s sake, Draco!” she cried, pulling off the sleeve with one enthusiastic yank. “That thing’s been healed for months now, stop dicking around!”
“HEY!” he shouted, hissing when her cold fingers wrapped around his arm, feeling the muscles. “A warning would’ve been nice, thanks!”
She eyed him briefly, scowling when she returned to examining him. “You want to talk about nice, Draco?”
He rolled his eyes, and found himself lucky that she hadn’t caught it. “I wonder, though,” Draco said, observing her observing his arm. “Why you seem to be so keen to examine it so often, Granger, if it’s been healed for months like you said.”
Her jaw line tightened. “Don’t flatter yourself, Draco. I’m here because I promised Harry, not you.” She straightened a little, poking firmly between two muscled. “Just like when Ron is here. It’s a routine.”
“Oh yeah?” Draco said, bringing his arm to his chest and out of her grip. “Weasley never brings me food.”
Slowly, Hermione lifted her gaze. “What do you want?”
“I-“ he paused, frowning at her. “You’re not doing this because think you owe me anything or something, do you?”
Her expression turned from guarded to puzzled.
“Because you don’t,” he continued. “You owe me shit, Granger.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking at him as though she expected to find the answer to life written somewhere on his face. But she quickly snapped out of it, standing up too fast and wavering about a little.
“You’re crazy,” she said. “And I’m going now.”
Draco sighed. Granger was like a tissue - blow that little too hard, and she rips. He couldn’t be honest, couldn’t say what was on his mind or something that was blatantly obvious without her rising to the ocassion, taking everything too personal for her own damn good.
“Really now, Granger, don’t leave on my account.”
“I’m not,” she replied haughtily. “I don’t even have time to stay here.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” She stepped aside, sliding the chair back under the table. “I’ve got more to do than waste my time with you, Malfoy.”
Licking his lips in growing anticipation, Draco messily stuffed his arm back into his sleeve. “Malfoy now, is it?” he said as she walked towards the door.
“Yes, it is,” Hermione retorted over her shoulder. “Your first name is a privilege. One you’ve just lost.” She opened the door, ignoring his spreading smirk. “You can earn it back though.”
Draco jumped to his feet, not bothering to fix his shirt as he shot after her retreating back - putting a hand between door and pane before it closed completely.
“Earn it?” he called, hurriedly trying to keep up with her pace. It wasn’t easy walking with the rocks and nuts scattered about the forest clearing, especially with no shoes. His tore completely last month, and Draco was forced to admit his defeat and walked bare foot ever since.
Because as HELL was he going to ask Potter for new shoes.
“You mean being stuck in the middle of nowhere, starving to death isn’t worthy enough in your book, is it, Granger!”
And just as he hoped - no, expected, the girl stopped still in her tracks, just a few steps away from the clearing’s edge.
Draco’s mind had passed the subject of Granger before on one of the many lonely nights in his cabin, when the noises outside scared him up to the point of insomnia. Usually he dismissed the idea, being everything but comfortable with the thought - but as time went by it became inevitable. Why was she doing this? Why was she there nearly twice a week, why did she bring food... why did she talk to him? Why, for fuck’s sake, did she call him DRACO?
Weasley’s once-a-month visits were nothing like hers. He didn’t bring food, or anything nice. Draco was sure he was just there to terrorize him, because he seemed to love that. He’d sit there for hours at a time, mindlessly poking Draco’s arm with his wand, telling him how lucky he was. How ignorant and unworthy, how gracious Harry was to grant him this and how-
‘Tell me, Weasley, do you just suck him off or is it an actual RELATIONSHIP thing?’
By then he’d usually hex him, most of the times just a silencing spell - but when Weasley was in a bad mood, it could get from bad to worse.
Once Draco attempted to bring the subject of Granger up, tactfully - so that his lips won’t be sewed up again - but it only resulted with a wand against his throat, and an order to ‘never speak of her like that again! You hear me, MALFOY? D’YOU HEAR ME?’
“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked, half facing the forest, one hand on a tree’s stem for support.
Draco looked behind him at the small cabin. He didn’t get out much, not more often than when nature called - there were things out there that freaked him out more than the wood bugs that crawled across the ceiling. But fuck, it looked even more pathetic from the outside.
“I’m done with it,” he told Granger, determinedly walking towards her. “Seriously. I’m not going back in there!”
Panic flashed across her eyes, he thought, but she straightened up so quickly, squaring her shoulders that he wasn’t sure. Granger took a step back, into the forest. “I thought...I though we were past this, Draco,” she said carefully. “You know this never works.”
“Yeah, well, this time it will!” he said, holding onto the branch she’d been leaning against moments ago.
“No, it won’t,” she told him. He saw her hesitate, wanting to step back farther away from him but not allowing him to have the upper hand. “Go back in, Draco. It’ll never work.”
“You can’t stay there forever, Granger,” Draco replied, ignoring her order. “You’ll have to start walking at some point...” He grinned, taking another small step forwards. “It’s dark already, and soon they’ll notice you’re missing...”
“Harry and Ron know perfectly well where I am,” she quickly contradicted.
“Do they?” Draco took a bold step towards her, and instinctively she mirrored it backwards, awkwardly stumbling over a root. “Shall I bring up the subject then, next time Weasley comes to visit?”
She immediately steadied herself, the mentioning of her friend enough to make her focus all on Draco.
“Why are you doing this, Malfoy?” she asked sharply.
“Look around you, Granger!” he replied, gesturing to the vegetation around them. “Would you like to spend the rest of your days here?”
“I am not a cold blooded Death Eater!” she retorted, colouring a little. “There’s a big difference! A big, FAT, obvious difference!”
“I’m not talking about deserving, Granger. I’m talking about wanting. Not a human alive would want THIS!” he hit the tree next to him, making the bark crumble off a little.
She didn’t grant him a reply, but growled in frustration, turning her back on him while mumbling under her breath, “I don’t have time for this.”
“Want to switch?” he exclaimed, quick to keep a step behind her. “I find myself with an awful lot of time on my hands lately. How ‘bout that?”
Granger doubled her pace. Draco grinned, and did the same. It had been a while since he’d had one of these chase downs - as he preferred to call them. After the first few weeks, when he was able to move his arm again, he’d go out every day, search for a loophole in the wards. But it had no use. The moment he’d reach a certain line and try to run through it, it was like trying to run up against a wall. A high-wired wall, at that. Once that fact was established, the solution seemed very easy. He’d just hike a ride with either Granger or Weasley through the wards and be out in the world before he knew it! But this proved much tougher in reality than in theory. They always immobilised or tried him to a tree before stepping through the wards, sometimes not even bothering to lift it up once they were on the other side. He tried to hide behind trees, jump out just as they were about to cross - but this was never fast enough, and he ended bumping up full-faced against the ward, being flung back a few good feet.
But something was off about Granger today. Something was very off, and if he played his cards well - he might just benefit.
Draco was roughly yanked out of his thoughts by a large boulder in his way - one he noticed a few moments too late. Draco only realised he had fell once his nose met the muffy humus, forehead clunking softly against the earth. He groaned, trying to sit back up and shake off the dizziness. A sharp pain near his nose told him he’d hit something else besides ground. Blinking to get the blur away, Draco inspected the ground.
Great. He fell on an acorn.
Grumpily he looked up, expecting Granger to have walked on long ago. But to his mild surprise, she was still there - standing a good couple of feet away, looking at him indecisively
“You’re bleeding,” she told him.
His hand shot up, feeling the surface of his nose. It all seemed to be in place, even if a little sore. Draco then wiped the blood away with the back of his sleeve, eyeing her hatefully out of the corner of his vision.
“You’re--” Granger began, moving towards him but stopping herself after half a step. “You’re only making it worse like this, you should really-“
“I don’t need your help, Granger,” he muttered, standing up. “You just...keep on walking.”
She pursed her lips, general demeanour turning into defensive again. “Go back, Malfoy,” she said, nodding to the trees behind him. He quickly looked, but the cabin was no longer visible. They were too far - which was a good thing, because now she wouldn’t risk levitating him back with all the trees in the way.
“And miss all the fun?” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”
Hermione groaned lowly, turning on her heel, running away from him as fast as she could.
Draco nearly laughed in surprise. She hadn’t reacted like this to him following her ever since the very first time! Something had to be bothering her, otherwise it’d just been a ‘fuck off, Malfoy’ and a quick stupefy, and they’d be done for the day!
“Granger!” he called after, jumping over roots and boulders trying to keep up with her. “Granger, WAIT UP!”
It proved tougher than he thought. She was rather light-footed, with those legs of hers, and ducked easily under the branches and twigs Draco had to push away.
Whatever it was that was bothering her had clearly something to do with him. Why otherwise should she object to him having another useless go at crossing the wards? Could it be that they broke, or something - that he could pass right through them? Or maybe someone was waiting for her on the other side…
Someone who he wasn’t supposed to see. What were those stupid kids planning now? Where they actually thinking of…of perhaps taking it even further? Hurting him? TORTURING? Waiting for him to fall asleep the burning his cabin down?!
That would explain her behaviour perfectly! She probably was feeling guilty, and that’s why she’s been bringing all that food - holy shit, were pickles just his last meal? PICKLES?
The sole idea made him double his speed. With a determined sprint, Draco inched in on the running girl, one outstretched hand trying to grab her shirt. She shrieked and made a sharp turn by a tree with a heavy, low hanging branch. And although she easily slipped under it, Draco hadn’t seen it coming at all and was hit full forcedly in his ribs. He stumbled back, doubling over and catching for breath.
Oh, it was ON.
With a hand around his middle, Draco pushed himself off a nearby stem into a quick-paced run. Granger was now a good distance ahead, which meant she couldn’t hear him change directions - running east from her, and soon catching up a while to her left. Hermione, of course, thought he was still back where she’d left him doubled-over and coughing his lungs out. So you could say it took her by surprise when he appeared at her side with a mighty war cry, roughly throwing himself at her which resulted the both of them crashing into a broad tree.
For a shocked moment both parties remained still - Draco pinning her onto the tree, back to chest, and Hermione; cheek pressed against the bark, breathing irregularly.
Draco was still catching his breath when she started struggling. Attempting to elbow him, throw him off, kick him - anything her imaginative little mind could think of. Draco, whose ribs were still sore and throat was still too painful to inhale deeply, thought it’d be best to keep the fighting for later.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her around and slamming her back into the tree.
“What the HELL do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, trying to quiet her wild arms.
“ME?!” she cried, turning her wrists in his grip. “You’re the one chasing me down like a wild animal!”
“Then you shouldn’t have started RUNNING like one!”
“YOU wouldn’t go back!”
“Of course I wouldn’t go back!” he exclaimed, reluctantly letting her arms go. “With you trying to burn the whole thing down, of course I wouldn’t!”
“Burn the-?” she stopped, creasing her forehead. “What are you talking about?!”
“YOU!” he cried in return. “You’re acting strange and I know why! You’re planning on killing me, aren’t you? You and your little friends! Finally getting rid of me, ONCE AND FOR ALL!”
“ME AND… and my WHAT?!” Hermione groaned in frustration, pushing him off her with a mighty gesture. Draco stumbled back, staggering a little as he tried to find his balance back. “You’re so stupid, Draco!” she added, covering her face with a hand.
“OH YEAH?” shouted Draco, wanting to shove that hand off her face. “Then you tell me what it is! Because frankly, I can’t think of a better explanation! The food, the visits, the--!”
“OH MY WORD!” Hermione cut in, exclaiming with her hands fisted next to her face. “You really have NO idea what’s going on, have you? NOT AN INKLING!”
Draco started, eyeing her somewhat nervously. He seemed to have pushed a button, and it wasn’t a good one. He tried his best puzzled look, but neither this made her happy.
“Outside, Draco! IN THE WORLD!”
He scowled. Was she actually surprised? “Yeah, sorry, Granger!” he began sarcastically. “I forgot to read the latest issue of the Daily FUCKING Prophet!”
She shook her head, crossing arms to her chest. “You don’t need the newspapers to realise it’s still war out there, Draco. Just a bloody BRAIN!”
Draco licked his lips, looking away. Of course he knew it was still war outside - fuck, he was a PART of it, until they took him out and locked him away in this shithole. And really, what was he supposed to do now? If she wanted anyone to blame for this, the mirror would be the perfect place to start.
“There are still people dying, Draco,” she continued after a while, voice somewhat calmer. “A lot of people have died, too. Do you REALLY think you’re the only thing that keeps us busy?”
He looked back to her, clenching his teeth. He knew all this, realised it far too long ago…she didn’t need to tell HIM, it was all their sordid fault to begin with!
“I have to remind them you’re still here,” Hermione said, a little softer this time. “You’re nothing but a burden, Draco.”
All the humour he found in the situation slowly sipped away at her words, replaced by a gradually growing bubble of anger. Anger like he hadn’t felt in a long time. Anger that for over a year, had been muffled by self-pity and confusion.
“I didn’t ask to be here,” he growled, taking a cautious step forwards. “For the thousand FUCKING time, I didn’t ASK to be HERE!” Hermione flinched a little, and in the smugness thereof Draco found the words to continue. “If I’m such a burden, Granger, then let me go. Right now. Take down those fucking wards and let me GO!”
“It doesn’t work like that!” she cried in reply. “You’re not here because you ASKED to be, you’re here because you did something wrong, Draco! Just like…” she paused, taking a breath. “You won’t get seeds if you won’t learn to ask, you won’t get new shoes if you don’t learn their value- you won’t get out, Draco, if you won’t learn to CHANGE!”
“CHANGE!” Draco repeated, laughing at the stupidity of it. “You want me to CHANGE? BY LOCKING ME UP AND STARVING ME TO DEATH? Subtle approach, I must say!”
Hermione’s glare was deadly. She reminded him somewhat of a bull, or a dog he used to fear when he was a kid.
“You won’t ever get out of here, Draco,” she said coldly. “Not unless you change.”
“I’m not your pet project, Granger. THIS,” --he poked his chest -- “Is as good as it’s gonna get! There’s nothing to change. Nothing will EVER change! You can’t use the war as an excuse - pumpkins will always be orange, Hufflepuffs will always be stupid, and YOU!” He took another step towards her, now shoving a finger onto her shoulder with an ugly smirk. “Will always be a mudblood.”
Draco kind of expected her to cry. Or run again, or hex his balls off or-yeah. He didn’t expect, however, what did happen. He didn’t expect to get shoved back, and certainly not with twice the enthusiasm.
“I can’t BELIEVE you!” she shouted, shaking her head at him. “I took CARE of you!” Hermione shoved again, moving with him as he staggered backwards. “I TALKED to you! I brought you FOOD!” She shoved once more, adding force. “ I HEALED YOU! And you still DARE talk to me as if I-!”
He grabbed her arms before he could pounce him again, swiftly twisting them behind her back. She attempted to get out of his grip, but he was just that much stronger than she was. And he had the angle - the angle, which made Hermione stumble in her tries to free herself; stumble directly onto his chest. This only gave him more room as he tightened his grip on her arms.
“Did I have a choice?” he said, close to her ear. “You were the one with the wand. I told you, Hermione,” he befouled the name as much as he could. The way he always said it in his mind. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance. I would’ve done the same.”
With her face in his shoulder, Draco felt her sob. A small smile played about the corners of his lips as he let go of one of her arms, lifting it to brush away the hair from her neck. She sobbed again as he lightly stroked the soft skin, idly wondering how it would feel against his lips. He cocked his head a little, inhaling the smell she carried with her and slowly moved his cheek along her neck, his lips barely ghosting its surface. The hand that formerly held her arm in place quietly slipped around her waist, pulling her closer as he brushed a small kiss to her collarbone.
A small hum started in the back of his throat as he made his way up to her jaw, lingering about her skin with a throaty sound, not really daring to touch it and tempted all the same by the heat it projected.
Draco gently released her other hand in favour of using it to trace the lines of her face, lifting it a little to align his. He brushed his nose to her cheek, across her pointy one, making the tips touch lightly. The smile was still tugging his lips when he eyed hers, a little trembling and all too inviting, leaning in with the most self-control he ever remembered having. And he had almost made it, too, when Hermione made a small, strangled noise. Something between a whimper and a protest, something that was all Draco needed to snap back to reality.
Although later on he quietly admitted that jumping back wildly as though she was contaminated was a bit overdoing it, Draco couldn’t get far enough from her.
He tried to swallow but this throat seemed to shut down and his mouth to dry out. And hell, he wished she’d stop looking at him like that. As if he’d just molested her, or something. Because for all he knew it could’ve been all her fault - he knew how they did it, the mudbloods, one or two quick spells and any decent man lost control.
And he was an easy target, really. He hadn’t had a woman in…
Well. Ever.
Which made it all that worse - because hell, she WASN’T a woman! Not a witch in his eyes and oh god, oh holy Zeus just a moment longer standing there watching her shocked expression and parted lips and he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
So he did the next best thing.
He fled.
For a minute or two Draco lost all sense of coordination, not knowing where he was and which way he was going. He was convinced he was running in circles and was just about to panic a little when he caught a glimpse of the cabin between the trees, and a strange wave of relief overcame him. Similar to the kind he’d felt after his first (and last) attempt at hunting, having found back the cabin convinced killer squirrels were chasing him down.
He jogged across the clearing almost desperately, trying to reach the cabin. In his mind everything was supposed to sink back to mode normal once he was inside. He’d probably wake up, find out what kind of mushrooms exactly he ate last night, burn them all and all would be fine.
It came as a grave disappointment when none of the aforementioned happened as he closed the door behind him, standing before the table, waiting.
Draco licked his lips, walked back and forth across the room, hoping for normality to hit home any time soon.
Nothing.
He swallowed, closing his eyes in a quiet prayer for his sanity.
But the moment his lids closed all he saw was the look on her face, magnified. It didn’t take long for his mind to make the jump to him touching her again, her neck, her face - her lips. The next moment he was kissing her, the next she was undressing and the next-
NO!
Draco’s eyes flew open. No closing of eyes anymore, then. His heart was in his throat and a thin layer of perspiration shun on his forehead. He reached for the chair next to him, leaning on the frame, but no good came of it as he noticed the whole seat shook - because Draco himself shook, as though under a fever.
He silently wondered if this would qualify for a panic attack.
With a muffled noise Draco buried his face in his hands, searching for all the possible explanations for what happened. Once he’d done that, Draco moved on to the plausible ones, and even not-so-plausible ones; as long as it came down to the point that it wasn’t his fault.
One of the many things he hated about this forest, was that everything he’d ever learned was perfectly normal turned into the unthinkable. Food turned into a matter of survival, sleeping into a privilege, and talking to a mudblood once every few weeks into a heaven sent. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt these things around her - not at all. How could it be? With her touching him with those medical digits, leaning so close he could feel her breath on his skin. Sometimes she’d lean on his thigh for support, and sometimes her hand would slip and she’d brush him in such a wrong way. But Draco would pretend not to have noticed and she blushed shyly, muttering about sweaty hands under her breath. And only once she was gone Draco allowed his mind to blank out and his left hand to work at a steady pace, convinced that was the only way to get her out of his system. Dreams of Pansy finding the cabin and showing him how much she’d missed him seamlessly slipped into Granger returning in the dark of the night, showing him how sorry she was.
But those were matters of privacy. Never had he considered forgetting himself, never had he even imagined looking at her with anything more than a sneer.
Not in reality.
Because Draco? He was perfectly in control.
He was even in control of the way his knees almost gave away at the start the knock on the door gave him.
It’s Wealsey - was his first thought. Granger went back and told all her friends about what just happened and now they’re here. And they’re going to kill me. They’re going to decapitate me.
He turned around to the door, wondering whether they’d storm through it if he didn’t open right away. Whether they carried axes and hayforks with them.
Another knock, a little softer and hesitant this time.
Draco clenched his teeth, nearly choking on his heart as he made to open the door.
And he wasn’t all that surprised when no bodyguards appeared. No torch-carrying men, no death wishes or anything like that.
Granger stared at him. Out of breath from running, kind of alone and awkward, biting her lip nervously.
“It’s…it’s too dark,” she said quietly. “I can’t find the way.”
She was lying. Draco knew the girl memorized the paths perfectly and this wasn’t the first time she left after sundown - but it didn’t bother him. Not in the least. With a small growl Draco grabbed the collar of her shirt, dragging her as close as they could get while roughly covering her mouth with his.
He ran his tongue along her lower lip, making her open up to him. She did so with an involuntary sound, kissing him back with too much teeth and too much force, and while he knew she thought this would result in him pulling away, it actually thrilled him more than he’d imagined. When Granger noticed he was letting have her way, she draped her arms along his shoulders; nails digging half moons into his neck.
Draco released her mouth, groaning out the pain. Granger was gasping for air, and at that he suddenly remembered to breathe. He let his forehead lean against hers, waiting for his ears to de-pop from the pressure that was all around him whenever she was nearby.
The hand that was gripping the cloth of her shirt slowly let go, and he boldly made to feel the curve of her breast, assuming she’d let him know if it didn’t suit her. She lifted her head a little, looking straight into his eyes, challenging - he though it was. Draco leaned in to kiss her again, giving her breast a rough squeeze. The sound he made in return, whether of pleasure or pain, was completely smothered by his lips. He felt her fingers curl into his hair, pulling it a little, climbing higher - uneven lock to uneven lock at a time.
She herself cut it. Draco remembered sitting on the chair, watching bits and locks of his blonde hair gathering around him with every snip of the scissors. He’d threatened her life if she cut an inch too much. She’d threatened to cut his ear off if he uttered another word.
With an idle hand he traced the length of her thigh, wrapping his fingers around the back of her knee making it bend as he lifted the leg to his hip. Granger reacted to a curl of a tongue by wrapping her leg around him, pushing herself to and up his chest with a throaty noise. This was all the enthusiasm Draco needed, and suddenly wondering why they were just standing there for so long when other - better - things could be done, he lifted her other leg; cupping her bum while lifting her. She was too heavy for his sticks of arms, and it was a good thing the wall was close behind. They crashed into it loudly, making the whole ramshackle cabin rattle. But none paid heed, and none could waste anymore time. His hands were at the hem of her shirt, nudging and pushing it up - she had it easy, really, with his blouse unbuttoned and ready to fall off his shoulders.
Draco made an annoyed sound and she replied with one of her own, but raised her hands all the same. He was clumsy and all too excited and her nose caught the collar halfway over her head. She muttered curses through the cloth as he yanked at it, finally freeing her head.
He never thought he’d be so happy to see it.
A strangled noise left his mouth before he went for her neck, biting and doing the most wicked things with his tongue. Hermione reached for the claps of her bra when she noticed he wasn’t going to bother; if she wanted it off, he thought, she’d have to do it herself.
Her breasts were small and a bit uneven, but all the while better than anything his imagination granted. Reality was just a sneaky bastard like that. Draco shuddered happily, laving his mouth downwards, finding a rising breast ending in a rosy nipple. Granger’s legs tightened around his hips and Draco bucked upwards, grounding her with hazed need. Groaning lowly, Granger reached down for the claps of his pants with shaky fingers. The tension that built up in his groin was much to take as it was, without her bumping against it and without even getting the darn pants OFF already!
Lacking the patience or the condition, Draco swatted away her hands, releasing the claps more with force than anything else. He’d already moved onto her jeans while she put one foot back on the ground, pushing his pants off in the same way she yelled at him; expression set to win.
Her hands, not so long ago cold and clammy on his arm, now felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He didn’t care if she’d try to yank it off at this point; just feeling her fingers curled around his length, knowing it wasn’t his own hand or the flat surface of his mattress, made his eyes roll back into his head - leaning heavily into the curve of her neck.
He hadn’t even noticed she was completely undressed, or even realised where she was guiding him to or what the hell she was doing until he felt her against him, so warm he wondered how she didn’t melt herself inside out.
In his excitement Draco attempted to take matters into his own hands, palming her breasts and grinding against her - only hoping it was as godly for her as it was for him. But he was clumsy and missed, not exactly sure what he was doing. Granger though, didn’t laugh or scold him, only put a gentle hand on his chest with a frown of concentration creasing her forehead. She made a quiet sound, telling him to calm down, planting a small kiss on his mouth as she guided him the right way.
He was inside her. He was inside and it was so easy, as if…as if he’d done nothing else for the rest of his life.
Hours later Draco’d realise in quiet surprise she wasn’t a virgin. Wonder whether it bothered her he was and how come, actually, she’d lost it before he did. But right now his thoughts - if he had any left - certainly weren’t coherent enough to conclude that.
She arched her back and bucked her hips and he desperately wanted to move. But his knees were buckling and the wall wasn’t enough support, and something needed to be done about the matter.
With the very last string of imagination he found, Draco once more lifted her leg so the two lids were wrapped around his midsection. She seemed to understand his intentions and straightened up - (ohgodohgod) - resting her head against his. Her warm uneven breath tickled unbearably on his temple as Draco carried her to the pitiful bed. He laid her down as carefully as possible without breaking the connection, his weight pinning her into the mattress. He was probably heavy on her but carrying her had left him somewhat breathless and dizzy; he had to regain the enthusiasm from when he begun.
But Hermione had other ideas. Sprawled under him, her hands were moving across his back. One moment lightly stroking, the other pinning in her nails. Her mouth was on his neck, rolling her tongue across his skin and she was moving - moving her hips, her chest and legs, urging him to move or touch or…anything!
Participation went a long way. It really did.
Draco had to grab her hips to stop her from wriggling before he was done right there and then. He lifted his head to look at her; lip between her teeth and a grimace that lingered between frustration and concentration.
He saw it as his duty to put a change to that.
It took one thrust to make the creases on her face to smooth out, two to make her release her lip, and three for Draco to lower his trembling face to hers, brushing lips - not precisely recalling how to kiss. And going by her soft whimpers, Draco assumed she didn’t remember either.
But it didn’t matter, as many things seem to at that moment. All that happened and all that didn’t happen will be discussed later; and the sun and the moon could be extinguished, the birds and crickets hushed and the earth put to sleep, for who could care about anything else when she was near him like that? When she was saying small words, words of no meaning and all the meaning in world, telling him to go on, not to stop and it felt good. Because Merlin it did, Merlin - so much better than good.
His rhythm was a tad uneven, not always meeting up to hers. It was a tough act to coordinate but far too important to demand perfection.
He came with his cheek pressed to hers, eyes rolled back and sweat dripping alongside his face, arms wrapped around her tightly because she was his first lover - her arms loosely in his hair because he could be her last.
A LETDOWN
Because there’s only one way to the ground
Count again, asshole. COUNT AGAIN.
But it had no use. No point whatsoever, because no matter how many times he closed his eyes and opened them three heartbeats later, no one else walked through the door.
Draco ran a hand through his hair, eyeing the sad number of people standing a bit awkwardly in the room. One was obviously drunk, and was probably there for the promise of riches - ones he’d spend on pumping toxics into his blood. The other, a woman slightly older than Draco himself, looked as though she’d been living on the streets for the past few months and definitely smelled the part. Her eyes were crazed, as she never averted her stare from Draco, observing him as though he were her savior. He’d be flattered, if it weren’t for the fact that ten minutes ago she’d stared at the lamp in the same way. The third man was the only one Draco saw use in. He seemed to be a middle-aged, middle class wizard who knew perfectly well what he was doing there. So well, in fact, he hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since the moment he walked in.
Draco wondered whether the man would make a run for it if he were to yell ‘BOO!!’
He looked to the man on his left - a young guy, Draco’s age - elbowing him lightly.
“What the hell is this, Boot?”
Terry shrugged, sighing hopelessly.
“Is THIS my army, Boot? THIS?” he gestured wildly to the drunk man, who just slipped to the ground and hit it with a loud clunk.
“It’s the best I could find, Malfoy.”
“The BEST?” Draco tried to disguise his yell under a whisper. “What the hell were you doing then, Boot? I could find better while eating out of my NOSE, punk! What am I even paying you for?!”
Terry lazily turned to look at him. “If you can do so much better, Malfoy,” he said. “Then YOU do it. Really.” He made to walk away, but Draco quickly grabbed his arm, dragging him back to his place.
“What the fuck’s your problem, Boot?” he hissed. “Don’t you want to fight?”
His former schoolmate only looked at his arm, brows raised in question. Draco slowly let go but didn’t retreat, making it obvious to Boot he wasn’t going before Draco got an answer.
Terry sighed again, brushing his thumb across his nose in a way that drove Draco to madness. “Look, Malfoy,” he began. “It’s great you’re back and all. And I get what you’re trying to do, really, I get you. But no one’s waiting for another war. Everyone’s tired, Malfoy. There’s no spirit left, and your cause…” He paused, sniffing and brushing his nose once more. “It’s nothing for these people anymore. No one cares about revenge or whatever. They just want to move on with their lives, you know? Trying to forget about those people.”
Draco balled his fists, biting hard on his tongue as to not strangle Boot right there and then. “Those people killed OUR parents, Boot,” he spat, lowering his voice but closing in on the boy. “Those people are still out there! Who’s talking about the WAR, Boot? WHO?! I wasn’t here. And frankly, I don’t give a SHIT! You’re not TIRED, Boot, you’re an opportunist. Don’t you care about your parents? YOUR SISTER? Don’t you want-“
Boot shoved him roughly, his indifferent eyes suddenly wide in anger. “Don’t talk about my sister.”
Draco licked his lips, closing his eyes momentarily. “I know, Boot. I was just saying - I was just saying, what if our parents would be here to see us? You know what they’d say? Do you? They’re say we’re PUSSIES, that’s what they’d say. Look at this generation, Boot! The war doesn’t make you weak, that you do yourself-“
“You’re right, Malfoy,” Boot cut him off. “You WEREN’T here. You can’t even speak of this generation. It’s not your generation anymore! You’ll never have any idea what we’ve been through while you were vacationing away under the protection of-“
“FUCK YOU!” shouted Draco, shaking his head indignantly. “YOU’RE the one who hasn’t an idea! Do you even know what it was like there? I was LOCKED AWAY, Boot! With no food, no human contact, NO-“
“No clothes, no sex, no shit - yeah, I know! You’ve only told me about it every fucking hour! You think you had it bad, Malfoy?” He raised his eyebrows, inching his chin a little. “You were LUCKY. You were fucking LUCKY, you self-pitying asshole! I know hundreds of people who’d gladly give their right arm to have what you had!”
Draco huffed. He almost did lose his right arm. Which was ironically what got him there in the first place, wasn’t it?
“Oh yeah?” he snarled. “What exactly? WHAT?”
Boot squared his shoulders, his jaw tightening. “Safety.”
“There’s a name for those kind of people, Boot,” he said venomously. “Disloyal gutless BASTARDS!”
With that he turned around, continuing to curse loudly under his breath. The paranoid man was already gone - slipped away without them even noticing. The drunk had passed out and the woman was staring at the lamp again.
Draco moaned in fury, and stormed out of the small back room of a nameless shop into the streets of a muggle city. For a while he blindly stomped along the roads, not really caring where he was heading as long as he got to hate as much as he could.
Idiots. IDIOTS!
“BLEEDING FUCKING IDIOTS!” he told the world, gripping his hair in frustration and bumping roughly into the side street’s wall. He couldn’t believe this - he was so convinced, so utterly sure he wasn’t the only one. Sure, yes, by now he realised that things didn’t come easy when your name was Draco Malfoy but this - for once! - wasn’t even about him.
This generation disappointed him immensely.
He expected tons of people - hundreds if he were completely honest - hell yes, sure he expected the fucking ministry to show up because of the mayhem they would’ve caused! He expected rage and anger and- ‘REVENGE!’ he wanted them to shout. ‘REVENGE FOR OUR PARENTS!’
Because Draco? He was pissed. No really, he was actually livid. And that’s saying something, because the boy was pretty irate to begin with. Heck, he was kind of angry by nature as it was.
Humiliation was so much worse when he was the only one around to note it.
Breathing hard, Draco slowly uncurled his fingers, letting them slip down from his hair with a few strands he accidentally ripped out between his coiled digits. No. No, this wasn’t his fault! He did everything right, everything he could’ve possibly done - he did it! It was their fault, everyone’s fault but his - and he meant that! If it weren’t those who were on his side, it was those on the other one who brainwashed everyone else.
No, no, he was happy. Happy because it was clear they were weak, useless… stupid, too! He couldn’t run an army of chickens! No, he refused to. So this was for the best, really. Yes. For the fucking BEST!
It was a shame the night sky was so clear around this part of town of all the districts, really. That the heavy mid-summer clouds foreshadowing rain and thunder and other pleasantries decided to drift apart and proudly reveal a beautifully pregnant moon and its child stars exactly there where no head could be arsed to turn upwards, where the only faces that did were half unconscious and half in the gutter beneath the dark heavens.
Draco roared. Roared again and kicked a lantern, regretted kicking it and roared even louder. But his anger was short-lived considering the amounts he was lashing it with, and out slowly began to tip over into nausea. The contracting of his muscles as he gripped and clutched everything within arm’s length ready - to tear it to pieces - subdued into a lazy hum in the back of his head and all of a sudden he couldn’t exactly remember what that thing was he was supposed to do in order to stay on his feet. Wavering a little, he drunkenly threw his arms around the lantern in an attempt to keep himself up. Which was rather amusing, he thought, because he wasn’t drunk at all.
‘We can fix that,’ thought Draco vaguely as he slid to the ground, landing messily in a puddle of rainwater.
“Oh look!” he called to no one in particular, pointing up at the sky, lying on his back as he did. “Full moon.”
Part 5
Thank-you for participating in the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange.
Title: Big
Author: derryere
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Sex 'n DRUGS 'n ROCK AND-- I mean, language.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.
Author Notes/Beta Credits: Okay, a HUGE HONKIN' shout out to sandi_wandi who beta'd this on a supersuper short notice and did an amazing job (Otherwise you'd all be reading about drug dealing squids right now) aaand saved my buttkes. AND!! To yuying_luo, my non-stop support system.
Summary: When it rains, it pours. When you're Draco Malfoy, it's a fucking monsoon.
SOME REASONS
Where misunderstandings make the order or the day
He literally threw himself at her.
With a small shriek Hermione shoved the bag into Draco’s hands, scurrying out of his reach. Draco paid her no heed, embracing the paper bag with a growl. He didn’t even bother closing the door, hungrily seating himself at the table, ripping the paper with no means of withholding.
But after a moment of eyeing the revealed content a groan of disappointed followed.
“Pickles??” he cried. “CAKE and pickles?”
“Hello to you too, Draco,” Hermione replied as she made to close the door. “How am I doing, you ask? I’m doing great, actually, thank you for asking! What? Oh, you’re very welcome. No, no, I know I shouldn’t have, it’s just being around you brings this utter goodness out in me and I just can’t HELP myself-“
“GRANGER!” he interrupted her monologue. She turned around, eyebrows raised in annoyance.
“You’re talking to the door,” Draco informed.
“I know,” she said. “Even the door’s a nicer conversation than you, Draco.”
He made a face of indifference, and pointedly gestured at the food. “You brought me pickles.”
“I brought you what we had left,” she corrected.
“You mean the food that made everyone else puke, right?”
Hermione shook her head, walking around the table to sit on his right hand side. “I can’t be too obvious anymore,” she said, sliding into the chair next to him. “They’re starting to get suspicious, you know.” Hermione paused, looking at the table’s surface somewhat blankly. “Everyone always gets agitated when food’s the subject.”
“That’s great, Granger. Really,” Draco said, reaching for the jar. “I’m sure that story would do wonders with somebody who actually ca…” He stopped mid sentence, his attempts to open the jar proving fruitless. He tapped it once, trying another angle while continuing, “With somebody who ACTUALLY ca…” Draco grunted, closing his eyes in effort.
“God, Malfoy…” She muttered under her breath, taking away his jar and opening it with a soft pop. “It’s your fault, anyway,” she said, shoving the pickles back into his hands. “If you’d start eating something else than those nuts, then you wouldn’t be so hungry all the-“
“What ELSE am I supposed to eat?” he interjected before stuffing his mouth with as much of the sour cucumbers fit.
“Well, you could start by getting over yourself and asking Harry for those-“
“Ahuam ROAT--!” Draco stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “I am NOT asking Potter for some lousy fucking seeds, forget it!”
“Those lousy fucking seeds could save your life,” Hermione replied seriously.
“No they won’t,” he said with a grin. “Not as long you keep feeding me like this.”
Her eyes snapped to his, granting him a cold glare. “Don’t challenge me, Draco,” she snarled. “This could just as well be the last time. Don’t try me.”
For a moment Draco contemplated a reply, but thought it was best not to anger her before he finished the cake.
She vanished his food before. She’d definitely do it again.
At the memory, Draco quickly stuffed the last pickles into his mouth, one after the other, chewing down as fast as he could. After a while he felt her nudging the sleeve of his shirt and quit his action. Looking down, he saw she was trying to roll it up all the way. When Hermione noticed he stopped eating, she looked up, halfway meeting his inquisitive glare.
“Yes, Granger?”
“Roll up,” she ordered. “I’m not staying today, you’re nasty when you’re in a good mood.”
“Well, do you mind?” Draco retorted, nodding at the remaining cake. “I am trying to eat here!”
“You can eat once I’m done,” she said, giving his sleeve another hearty yank up.
“ALRIGHT!” he exclaimed, prodding his arm out of her grip. “Alright, woman! Jeez, give me a second before you rip my shoulder off!”
Hermione cocked a brow while leaning back, crossing her arms in expectation. Draco shot her a hateful glare before turning to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one solely to upset her. Once that was done, he made to take his right arm out of the sleeve with such delicate care and awareness he could hear Hermione grind her teeth. It was when he made a small noise of ‘ouch!’ when the cloth touched his skin that she had enough.
“For Circe’s sake, Draco!” she cried, pulling off the sleeve with one enthusiastic yank. “That thing’s been healed for months now, stop dicking around!”
“HEY!” he shouted, hissing when her cold fingers wrapped around his arm, feeling the muscles. “A warning would’ve been nice, thanks!”
She eyed him briefly, scowling when she returned to examining him. “You want to talk about nice, Draco?”
He rolled his eyes, and found himself lucky that she hadn’t caught it. “I wonder, though,” Draco said, observing her observing his arm. “Why you seem to be so keen to examine it so often, Granger, if it’s been healed for months like you said.”
Her jaw line tightened. “Don’t flatter yourself, Draco. I’m here because I promised Harry, not you.” She straightened a little, poking firmly between two muscled. “Just like when Ron is here. It’s a routine.”
“Oh yeah?” Draco said, bringing his arm to his chest and out of her grip. “Weasley never brings me food.”
Slowly, Hermione lifted her gaze. “What do you want?”
“I-“ he paused, frowning at her. “You’re not doing this because think you owe me anything or something, do you?”
Her expression turned from guarded to puzzled.
“Because you don’t,” he continued. “You owe me shit, Granger.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking at him as though she expected to find the answer to life written somewhere on his face. But she quickly snapped out of it, standing up too fast and wavering about a little.
“You’re crazy,” she said. “And I’m going now.”
Draco sighed. Granger was like a tissue - blow that little too hard, and she rips. He couldn’t be honest, couldn’t say what was on his mind or something that was blatantly obvious without her rising to the ocassion, taking everything too personal for her own damn good.
“Really now, Granger, don’t leave on my account.”
“I’m not,” she replied haughtily. “I don’t even have time to stay here.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” She stepped aside, sliding the chair back under the table. “I’ve got more to do than waste my time with you, Malfoy.”
Licking his lips in growing anticipation, Draco messily stuffed his arm back into his sleeve. “Malfoy now, is it?” he said as she walked towards the door.
“Yes, it is,” Hermione retorted over her shoulder. “Your first name is a privilege. One you’ve just lost.” She opened the door, ignoring his spreading smirk. “You can earn it back though.”
Draco jumped to his feet, not bothering to fix his shirt as he shot after her retreating back - putting a hand between door and pane before it closed completely.
“Earn it?” he called, hurriedly trying to keep up with her pace. It wasn’t easy walking with the rocks and nuts scattered about the forest clearing, especially with no shoes. His tore completely last month, and Draco was forced to admit his defeat and walked bare foot ever since.
Because as HELL was he going to ask Potter for new shoes.
“You mean being stuck in the middle of nowhere, starving to death isn’t worthy enough in your book, is it, Granger!”
And just as he hoped - no, expected, the girl stopped still in her tracks, just a few steps away from the clearing’s edge.
Draco’s mind had passed the subject of Granger before on one of the many lonely nights in his cabin, when the noises outside scared him up to the point of insomnia. Usually he dismissed the idea, being everything but comfortable with the thought - but as time went by it became inevitable. Why was she doing this? Why was she there nearly twice a week, why did she bring food... why did she talk to him? Why, for fuck’s sake, did she call him DRACO?
Weasley’s once-a-month visits were nothing like hers. He didn’t bring food, or anything nice. Draco was sure he was just there to terrorize him, because he seemed to love that. He’d sit there for hours at a time, mindlessly poking Draco’s arm with his wand, telling him how lucky he was. How ignorant and unworthy, how gracious Harry was to grant him this and how-
‘Tell me, Weasley, do you just suck him off or is it an actual RELATIONSHIP thing?’
By then he’d usually hex him, most of the times just a silencing spell - but when Weasley was in a bad mood, it could get from bad to worse.
Once Draco attempted to bring the subject of Granger up, tactfully - so that his lips won’t be sewed up again - but it only resulted with a wand against his throat, and an order to ‘never speak of her like that again! You hear me, MALFOY? D’YOU HEAR ME?’
“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked, half facing the forest, one hand on a tree’s stem for support.
Draco looked behind him at the small cabin. He didn’t get out much, not more often than when nature called - there were things out there that freaked him out more than the wood bugs that crawled across the ceiling. But fuck, it looked even more pathetic from the outside.
“I’m done with it,” he told Granger, determinedly walking towards her. “Seriously. I’m not going back in there!”
Panic flashed across her eyes, he thought, but she straightened up so quickly, squaring her shoulders that he wasn’t sure. Granger took a step back, into the forest. “I thought...I though we were past this, Draco,” she said carefully. “You know this never works.”
“Yeah, well, this time it will!” he said, holding onto the branch she’d been leaning against moments ago.
“No, it won’t,” she told him. He saw her hesitate, wanting to step back farther away from him but not allowing him to have the upper hand. “Go back in, Draco. It’ll never work.”
“You can’t stay there forever, Granger,” Draco replied, ignoring her order. “You’ll have to start walking at some point...” He grinned, taking another small step forwards. “It’s dark already, and soon they’ll notice you’re missing...”
“Harry and Ron know perfectly well where I am,” she quickly contradicted.
“Do they?” Draco took a bold step towards her, and instinctively she mirrored it backwards, awkwardly stumbling over a root. “Shall I bring up the subject then, next time Weasley comes to visit?”
She immediately steadied herself, the mentioning of her friend enough to make her focus all on Draco.
“Why are you doing this, Malfoy?” she asked sharply.
“Look around you, Granger!” he replied, gesturing to the vegetation around them. “Would you like to spend the rest of your days here?”
“I am not a cold blooded Death Eater!” she retorted, colouring a little. “There’s a big difference! A big, FAT, obvious difference!”
“I’m not talking about deserving, Granger. I’m talking about wanting. Not a human alive would want THIS!” he hit the tree next to him, making the bark crumble off a little.
She didn’t grant him a reply, but growled in frustration, turning her back on him while mumbling under her breath, “I don’t have time for this.”
“Want to switch?” he exclaimed, quick to keep a step behind her. “I find myself with an awful lot of time on my hands lately. How ‘bout that?”
Granger doubled her pace. Draco grinned, and did the same. It had been a while since he’d had one of these chase downs - as he preferred to call them. After the first few weeks, when he was able to move his arm again, he’d go out every day, search for a loophole in the wards. But it had no use. The moment he’d reach a certain line and try to run through it, it was like trying to run up against a wall. A high-wired wall, at that. Once that fact was established, the solution seemed very easy. He’d just hike a ride with either Granger or Weasley through the wards and be out in the world before he knew it! But this proved much tougher in reality than in theory. They always immobilised or tried him to a tree before stepping through the wards, sometimes not even bothering to lift it up once they were on the other side. He tried to hide behind trees, jump out just as they were about to cross - but this was never fast enough, and he ended bumping up full-faced against the ward, being flung back a few good feet.
But something was off about Granger today. Something was very off, and if he played his cards well - he might just benefit.
Draco was roughly yanked out of his thoughts by a large boulder in his way - one he noticed a few moments too late. Draco only realised he had fell once his nose met the muffy humus, forehead clunking softly against the earth. He groaned, trying to sit back up and shake off the dizziness. A sharp pain near his nose told him he’d hit something else besides ground. Blinking to get the blur away, Draco inspected the ground.
Great. He fell on an acorn.
Grumpily he looked up, expecting Granger to have walked on long ago. But to his mild surprise, she was still there - standing a good couple of feet away, looking at him indecisively
“You’re bleeding,” she told him.
His hand shot up, feeling the surface of his nose. It all seemed to be in place, even if a little sore. Draco then wiped the blood away with the back of his sleeve, eyeing her hatefully out of the corner of his vision.
“You’re--” Granger began, moving towards him but stopping herself after half a step. “You’re only making it worse like this, you should really-“
“I don’t need your help, Granger,” he muttered, standing up. “You just...keep on walking.”
She pursed her lips, general demeanour turning into defensive again. “Go back, Malfoy,” she said, nodding to the trees behind him. He quickly looked, but the cabin was no longer visible. They were too far - which was a good thing, because now she wouldn’t risk levitating him back with all the trees in the way.
“And miss all the fun?” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”
Hermione groaned lowly, turning on her heel, running away from him as fast as she could.
Draco nearly laughed in surprise. She hadn’t reacted like this to him following her ever since the very first time! Something had to be bothering her, otherwise it’d just been a ‘fuck off, Malfoy’ and a quick stupefy, and they’d be done for the day!
“Granger!” he called after, jumping over roots and boulders trying to keep up with her. “Granger, WAIT UP!”
It proved tougher than he thought. She was rather light-footed, with those legs of hers, and ducked easily under the branches and twigs Draco had to push away.
Whatever it was that was bothering her had clearly something to do with him. Why otherwise should she object to him having another useless go at crossing the wards? Could it be that they broke, or something - that he could pass right through them? Or maybe someone was waiting for her on the other side…
Someone who he wasn’t supposed to see. What were those stupid kids planning now? Where they actually thinking of…of perhaps taking it even further? Hurting him? TORTURING? Waiting for him to fall asleep the burning his cabin down?!
That would explain her behaviour perfectly! She probably was feeling guilty, and that’s why she’s been bringing all that food - holy shit, were pickles just his last meal? PICKLES?
The sole idea made him double his speed. With a determined sprint, Draco inched in on the running girl, one outstretched hand trying to grab her shirt. She shrieked and made a sharp turn by a tree with a heavy, low hanging branch. And although she easily slipped under it, Draco hadn’t seen it coming at all and was hit full forcedly in his ribs. He stumbled back, doubling over and catching for breath.
Oh, it was ON.
With a hand around his middle, Draco pushed himself off a nearby stem into a quick-paced run. Granger was now a good distance ahead, which meant she couldn’t hear him change directions - running east from her, and soon catching up a while to her left. Hermione, of course, thought he was still back where she’d left him doubled-over and coughing his lungs out. So you could say it took her by surprise when he appeared at her side with a mighty war cry, roughly throwing himself at her which resulted the both of them crashing into a broad tree.
For a shocked moment both parties remained still - Draco pinning her onto the tree, back to chest, and Hermione; cheek pressed against the bark, breathing irregularly.
Draco was still catching his breath when she started struggling. Attempting to elbow him, throw him off, kick him - anything her imaginative little mind could think of. Draco, whose ribs were still sore and throat was still too painful to inhale deeply, thought it’d be best to keep the fighting for later.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her around and slamming her back into the tree.
“What the HELL do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, trying to quiet her wild arms.
“ME?!” she cried, turning her wrists in his grip. “You’re the one chasing me down like a wild animal!”
“Then you shouldn’t have started RUNNING like one!”
“YOU wouldn’t go back!”
“Of course I wouldn’t go back!” he exclaimed, reluctantly letting her arms go. “With you trying to burn the whole thing down, of course I wouldn’t!”
“Burn the-?” she stopped, creasing her forehead. “What are you talking about?!”
“YOU!” he cried in return. “You’re acting strange and I know why! You’re planning on killing me, aren’t you? You and your little friends! Finally getting rid of me, ONCE AND FOR ALL!”
“ME AND… and my WHAT?!” Hermione groaned in frustration, pushing him off her with a mighty gesture. Draco stumbled back, staggering a little as he tried to find his balance back. “You’re so stupid, Draco!” she added, covering her face with a hand.
“OH YEAH?” shouted Draco, wanting to shove that hand off her face. “Then you tell me what it is! Because frankly, I can’t think of a better explanation! The food, the visits, the--!”
“OH MY WORD!” Hermione cut in, exclaiming with her hands fisted next to her face. “You really have NO idea what’s going on, have you? NOT AN INKLING!”
Draco started, eyeing her somewhat nervously. He seemed to have pushed a button, and it wasn’t a good one. He tried his best puzzled look, but neither this made her happy.
“Outside, Draco! IN THE WORLD!”
He scowled. Was she actually surprised? “Yeah, sorry, Granger!” he began sarcastically. “I forgot to read the latest issue of the Daily FUCKING Prophet!”
She shook her head, crossing arms to her chest. “You don’t need the newspapers to realise it’s still war out there, Draco. Just a bloody BRAIN!”
Draco licked his lips, looking away. Of course he knew it was still war outside - fuck, he was a PART of it, until they took him out and locked him away in this shithole. And really, what was he supposed to do now? If she wanted anyone to blame for this, the mirror would be the perfect place to start.
“There are still people dying, Draco,” she continued after a while, voice somewhat calmer. “A lot of people have died, too. Do you REALLY think you’re the only thing that keeps us busy?”
He looked back to her, clenching his teeth. He knew all this, realised it far too long ago…she didn’t need to tell HIM, it was all their sordid fault to begin with!
“I have to remind them you’re still here,” Hermione said, a little softer this time. “You’re nothing but a burden, Draco.”
All the humour he found in the situation slowly sipped away at her words, replaced by a gradually growing bubble of anger. Anger like he hadn’t felt in a long time. Anger that for over a year, had been muffled by self-pity and confusion.
“I didn’t ask to be here,” he growled, taking a cautious step forwards. “For the thousand FUCKING time, I didn’t ASK to be HERE!” Hermione flinched a little, and in the smugness thereof Draco found the words to continue. “If I’m such a burden, Granger, then let me go. Right now. Take down those fucking wards and let me GO!”
“It doesn’t work like that!” she cried in reply. “You’re not here because you ASKED to be, you’re here because you did something wrong, Draco! Just like…” she paused, taking a breath. “You won’t get seeds if you won’t learn to ask, you won’t get new shoes if you don’t learn their value- you won’t get out, Draco, if you won’t learn to CHANGE!”
“CHANGE!” Draco repeated, laughing at the stupidity of it. “You want me to CHANGE? BY LOCKING ME UP AND STARVING ME TO DEATH? Subtle approach, I must say!”
Hermione’s glare was deadly. She reminded him somewhat of a bull, or a dog he used to fear when he was a kid.
“You won’t ever get out of here, Draco,” she said coldly. “Not unless you change.”
“I’m not your pet project, Granger. THIS,” --he poked his chest -- “Is as good as it’s gonna get! There’s nothing to change. Nothing will EVER change! You can’t use the war as an excuse - pumpkins will always be orange, Hufflepuffs will always be stupid, and YOU!” He took another step towards her, now shoving a finger onto her shoulder with an ugly smirk. “Will always be a mudblood.”
Draco kind of expected her to cry. Or run again, or hex his balls off or-yeah. He didn’t expect, however, what did happen. He didn’t expect to get shoved back, and certainly not with twice the enthusiasm.
“I can’t BELIEVE you!” she shouted, shaking her head at him. “I took CARE of you!” Hermione shoved again, moving with him as he staggered backwards. “I TALKED to you! I brought you FOOD!” She shoved once more, adding force. “ I HEALED YOU! And you still DARE talk to me as if I-!”
He grabbed her arms before he could pounce him again, swiftly twisting them behind her back. She attempted to get out of his grip, but he was just that much stronger than she was. And he had the angle - the angle, which made Hermione stumble in her tries to free herself; stumble directly onto his chest. This only gave him more room as he tightened his grip on her arms.
“Did I have a choice?” he said, close to her ear. “You were the one with the wand. I told you, Hermione,” he befouled the name as much as he could. The way he always said it in his mind. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance. I would’ve done the same.”
With her face in his shoulder, Draco felt her sob. A small smile played about the corners of his lips as he let go of one of her arms, lifting it to brush away the hair from her neck. She sobbed again as he lightly stroked the soft skin, idly wondering how it would feel against his lips. He cocked his head a little, inhaling the smell she carried with her and slowly moved his cheek along her neck, his lips barely ghosting its surface. The hand that formerly held her arm in place quietly slipped around her waist, pulling her closer as he brushed a small kiss to her collarbone.
A small hum started in the back of his throat as he made his way up to her jaw, lingering about her skin with a throaty sound, not really daring to touch it and tempted all the same by the heat it projected.
Draco gently released her other hand in favour of using it to trace the lines of her face, lifting it a little to align his. He brushed his nose to her cheek, across her pointy one, making the tips touch lightly. The smile was still tugging his lips when he eyed hers, a little trembling and all too inviting, leaning in with the most self-control he ever remembered having. And he had almost made it, too, when Hermione made a small, strangled noise. Something between a whimper and a protest, something that was all Draco needed to snap back to reality.
Although later on he quietly admitted that jumping back wildly as though she was contaminated was a bit overdoing it, Draco couldn’t get far enough from her.
He tried to swallow but this throat seemed to shut down and his mouth to dry out. And hell, he wished she’d stop looking at him like that. As if he’d just molested her, or something. Because for all he knew it could’ve been all her fault - he knew how they did it, the mudbloods, one or two quick spells and any decent man lost control.
And he was an easy target, really. He hadn’t had a woman in…
Well. Ever.
Which made it all that worse - because hell, she WASN’T a woman! Not a witch in his eyes and oh god, oh holy Zeus just a moment longer standing there watching her shocked expression and parted lips and he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
So he did the next best thing.
He fled.
For a minute or two Draco lost all sense of coordination, not knowing where he was and which way he was going. He was convinced he was running in circles and was just about to panic a little when he caught a glimpse of the cabin between the trees, and a strange wave of relief overcame him. Similar to the kind he’d felt after his first (and last) attempt at hunting, having found back the cabin convinced killer squirrels were chasing him down.
He jogged across the clearing almost desperately, trying to reach the cabin. In his mind everything was supposed to sink back to mode normal once he was inside. He’d probably wake up, find out what kind of mushrooms exactly he ate last night, burn them all and all would be fine.
It came as a grave disappointment when none of the aforementioned happened as he closed the door behind him, standing before the table, waiting.
Draco licked his lips, walked back and forth across the room, hoping for normality to hit home any time soon.
Nothing.
He swallowed, closing his eyes in a quiet prayer for his sanity.
But the moment his lids closed all he saw was the look on her face, magnified. It didn’t take long for his mind to make the jump to him touching her again, her neck, her face - her lips. The next moment he was kissing her, the next she was undressing and the next-
NO!
Draco’s eyes flew open. No closing of eyes anymore, then. His heart was in his throat and a thin layer of perspiration shun on his forehead. He reached for the chair next to him, leaning on the frame, but no good came of it as he noticed the whole seat shook - because Draco himself shook, as though under a fever.
He silently wondered if this would qualify for a panic attack.
With a muffled noise Draco buried his face in his hands, searching for all the possible explanations for what happened. Once he’d done that, Draco moved on to the plausible ones, and even not-so-plausible ones; as long as it came down to the point that it wasn’t his fault.
One of the many things he hated about this forest, was that everything he’d ever learned was perfectly normal turned into the unthinkable. Food turned into a matter of survival, sleeping into a privilege, and talking to a mudblood once every few weeks into a heaven sent. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt these things around her - not at all. How could it be? With her touching him with those medical digits, leaning so close he could feel her breath on his skin. Sometimes she’d lean on his thigh for support, and sometimes her hand would slip and she’d brush him in such a wrong way. But Draco would pretend not to have noticed and she blushed shyly, muttering about sweaty hands under her breath. And only once she was gone Draco allowed his mind to blank out and his left hand to work at a steady pace, convinced that was the only way to get her out of his system. Dreams of Pansy finding the cabin and showing him how much she’d missed him seamlessly slipped into Granger returning in the dark of the night, showing him how sorry she was.
But those were matters of privacy. Never had he considered forgetting himself, never had he even imagined looking at her with anything more than a sneer.
Not in reality.
Because Draco? He was perfectly in control.
He was even in control of the way his knees almost gave away at the start the knock on the door gave him.
It’s Wealsey - was his first thought. Granger went back and told all her friends about what just happened and now they’re here. And they’re going to kill me. They’re going to decapitate me.
He turned around to the door, wondering whether they’d storm through it if he didn’t open right away. Whether they carried axes and hayforks with them.
Another knock, a little softer and hesitant this time.
Draco clenched his teeth, nearly choking on his heart as he made to open the door.
And he wasn’t all that surprised when no bodyguards appeared. No torch-carrying men, no death wishes or anything like that.
Granger stared at him. Out of breath from running, kind of alone and awkward, biting her lip nervously.
“It’s…it’s too dark,” she said quietly. “I can’t find the way.”
She was lying. Draco knew the girl memorized the paths perfectly and this wasn’t the first time she left after sundown - but it didn’t bother him. Not in the least. With a small growl Draco grabbed the collar of her shirt, dragging her as close as they could get while roughly covering her mouth with his.
He ran his tongue along her lower lip, making her open up to him. She did so with an involuntary sound, kissing him back with too much teeth and too much force, and while he knew she thought this would result in him pulling away, it actually thrilled him more than he’d imagined. When Granger noticed he was letting have her way, she draped her arms along his shoulders; nails digging half moons into his neck.
Draco released her mouth, groaning out the pain. Granger was gasping for air, and at that he suddenly remembered to breathe. He let his forehead lean against hers, waiting for his ears to de-pop from the pressure that was all around him whenever she was nearby.
The hand that was gripping the cloth of her shirt slowly let go, and he boldly made to feel the curve of her breast, assuming she’d let him know if it didn’t suit her. She lifted her head a little, looking straight into his eyes, challenging - he though it was. Draco leaned in to kiss her again, giving her breast a rough squeeze. The sound he made in return, whether of pleasure or pain, was completely smothered by his lips. He felt her fingers curl into his hair, pulling it a little, climbing higher - uneven lock to uneven lock at a time.
She herself cut it. Draco remembered sitting on the chair, watching bits and locks of his blonde hair gathering around him with every snip of the scissors. He’d threatened her life if she cut an inch too much. She’d threatened to cut his ear off if he uttered another word.
With an idle hand he traced the length of her thigh, wrapping his fingers around the back of her knee making it bend as he lifted the leg to his hip. Granger reacted to a curl of a tongue by wrapping her leg around him, pushing herself to and up his chest with a throaty noise. This was all the enthusiasm Draco needed, and suddenly wondering why they were just standing there for so long when other - better - things could be done, he lifted her other leg; cupping her bum while lifting her. She was too heavy for his sticks of arms, and it was a good thing the wall was close behind. They crashed into it loudly, making the whole ramshackle cabin rattle. But none paid heed, and none could waste anymore time. His hands were at the hem of her shirt, nudging and pushing it up - she had it easy, really, with his blouse unbuttoned and ready to fall off his shoulders.
Draco made an annoyed sound and she replied with one of her own, but raised her hands all the same. He was clumsy and all too excited and her nose caught the collar halfway over her head. She muttered curses through the cloth as he yanked at it, finally freeing her head.
He never thought he’d be so happy to see it.
A strangled noise left his mouth before he went for her neck, biting and doing the most wicked things with his tongue. Hermione reached for the claps of her bra when she noticed he wasn’t going to bother; if she wanted it off, he thought, she’d have to do it herself.
Her breasts were small and a bit uneven, but all the while better than anything his imagination granted. Reality was just a sneaky bastard like that. Draco shuddered happily, laving his mouth downwards, finding a rising breast ending in a rosy nipple. Granger’s legs tightened around his hips and Draco bucked upwards, grounding her with hazed need. Groaning lowly, Granger reached down for the claps of his pants with shaky fingers. The tension that built up in his groin was much to take as it was, without her bumping against it and without even getting the darn pants OFF already!
Lacking the patience or the condition, Draco swatted away her hands, releasing the claps more with force than anything else. He’d already moved onto her jeans while she put one foot back on the ground, pushing his pants off in the same way she yelled at him; expression set to win.
Her hands, not so long ago cold and clammy on his arm, now felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He didn’t care if she’d try to yank it off at this point; just feeling her fingers curled around his length, knowing it wasn’t his own hand or the flat surface of his mattress, made his eyes roll back into his head - leaning heavily into the curve of her neck.
He hadn’t even noticed she was completely undressed, or even realised where she was guiding him to or what the hell she was doing until he felt her against him, so warm he wondered how she didn’t melt herself inside out.
In his excitement Draco attempted to take matters into his own hands, palming her breasts and grinding against her - only hoping it was as godly for her as it was for him. But he was clumsy and missed, not exactly sure what he was doing. Granger though, didn’t laugh or scold him, only put a gentle hand on his chest with a frown of concentration creasing her forehead. She made a quiet sound, telling him to calm down, planting a small kiss on his mouth as she guided him the right way.
He was inside her. He was inside and it was so easy, as if…as if he’d done nothing else for the rest of his life.
Hours later Draco’d realise in quiet surprise she wasn’t a virgin. Wonder whether it bothered her he was and how come, actually, she’d lost it before he did. But right now his thoughts - if he had any left - certainly weren’t coherent enough to conclude that.
She arched her back and bucked her hips and he desperately wanted to move. But his knees were buckling and the wall wasn’t enough support, and something needed to be done about the matter.
With the very last string of imagination he found, Draco once more lifted her leg so the two lids were wrapped around his midsection. She seemed to understand his intentions and straightened up - (ohgodohgod) - resting her head against his. Her warm uneven breath tickled unbearably on his temple as Draco carried her to the pitiful bed. He laid her down as carefully as possible without breaking the connection, his weight pinning her into the mattress. He was probably heavy on her but carrying her had left him somewhat breathless and dizzy; he had to regain the enthusiasm from when he begun.
But Hermione had other ideas. Sprawled under him, her hands were moving across his back. One moment lightly stroking, the other pinning in her nails. Her mouth was on his neck, rolling her tongue across his skin and she was moving - moving her hips, her chest and legs, urging him to move or touch or…anything!
Participation went a long way. It really did.
Draco had to grab her hips to stop her from wriggling before he was done right there and then. He lifted his head to look at her; lip between her teeth and a grimace that lingered between frustration and concentration.
He saw it as his duty to put a change to that.
It took one thrust to make the creases on her face to smooth out, two to make her release her lip, and three for Draco to lower his trembling face to hers, brushing lips - not precisely recalling how to kiss. And going by her soft whimpers, Draco assumed she didn’t remember either.
But it didn’t matter, as many things seem to at that moment. All that happened and all that didn’t happen will be discussed later; and the sun and the moon could be extinguished, the birds and crickets hushed and the earth put to sleep, for who could care about anything else when she was near him like that? When she was saying small words, words of no meaning and all the meaning in world, telling him to go on, not to stop and it felt good. Because Merlin it did, Merlin - so much better than good.
His rhythm was a tad uneven, not always meeting up to hers. It was a tough act to coordinate but far too important to demand perfection.
He came with his cheek pressed to hers, eyes rolled back and sweat dripping alongside his face, arms wrapped around her tightly because she was his first lover - her arms loosely in his hair because he could be her last.
A LETDOWN
Because there’s only one way to the ground
Count again, asshole. COUNT AGAIN.
But it had no use. No point whatsoever, because no matter how many times he closed his eyes and opened them three heartbeats later, no one else walked through the door.
Draco ran a hand through his hair, eyeing the sad number of people standing a bit awkwardly in the room. One was obviously drunk, and was probably there for the promise of riches - ones he’d spend on pumping toxics into his blood. The other, a woman slightly older than Draco himself, looked as though she’d been living on the streets for the past few months and definitely smelled the part. Her eyes were crazed, as she never averted her stare from Draco, observing him as though he were her savior. He’d be flattered, if it weren’t for the fact that ten minutes ago she’d stared at the lamp in the same way. The third man was the only one Draco saw use in. He seemed to be a middle-aged, middle class wizard who knew perfectly well what he was doing there. So well, in fact, he hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since the moment he walked in.
Draco wondered whether the man would make a run for it if he were to yell ‘BOO!!’
He looked to the man on his left - a young guy, Draco’s age - elbowing him lightly.
“What the hell is this, Boot?”
Terry shrugged, sighing hopelessly.
“Is THIS my army, Boot? THIS?” he gestured wildly to the drunk man, who just slipped to the ground and hit it with a loud clunk.
“It’s the best I could find, Malfoy.”
“The BEST?” Draco tried to disguise his yell under a whisper. “What the hell were you doing then, Boot? I could find better while eating out of my NOSE, punk! What am I even paying you for?!”
Terry lazily turned to look at him. “If you can do so much better, Malfoy,” he said. “Then YOU do it. Really.” He made to walk away, but Draco quickly grabbed his arm, dragging him back to his place.
“What the fuck’s your problem, Boot?” he hissed. “Don’t you want to fight?”
His former schoolmate only looked at his arm, brows raised in question. Draco slowly let go but didn’t retreat, making it obvious to Boot he wasn’t going before Draco got an answer.
Terry sighed again, brushing his thumb across his nose in a way that drove Draco to madness. “Look, Malfoy,” he began. “It’s great you’re back and all. And I get what you’re trying to do, really, I get you. But no one’s waiting for another war. Everyone’s tired, Malfoy. There’s no spirit left, and your cause…” He paused, sniffing and brushing his nose once more. “It’s nothing for these people anymore. No one cares about revenge or whatever. They just want to move on with their lives, you know? Trying to forget about those people.”
Draco balled his fists, biting hard on his tongue as to not strangle Boot right there and then. “Those people killed OUR parents, Boot,” he spat, lowering his voice but closing in on the boy. “Those people are still out there! Who’s talking about the WAR, Boot? WHO?! I wasn’t here. And frankly, I don’t give a SHIT! You’re not TIRED, Boot, you’re an opportunist. Don’t you care about your parents? YOUR SISTER? Don’t you want-“
Boot shoved him roughly, his indifferent eyes suddenly wide in anger. “Don’t talk about my sister.”
Draco licked his lips, closing his eyes momentarily. “I know, Boot. I was just saying - I was just saying, what if our parents would be here to see us? You know what they’d say? Do you? They’re say we’re PUSSIES, that’s what they’d say. Look at this generation, Boot! The war doesn’t make you weak, that you do yourself-“
“You’re right, Malfoy,” Boot cut him off. “You WEREN’T here. You can’t even speak of this generation. It’s not your generation anymore! You’ll never have any idea what we’ve been through while you were vacationing away under the protection of-“
“FUCK YOU!” shouted Draco, shaking his head indignantly. “YOU’RE the one who hasn’t an idea! Do you even know what it was like there? I was LOCKED AWAY, Boot! With no food, no human contact, NO-“
“No clothes, no sex, no shit - yeah, I know! You’ve only told me about it every fucking hour! You think you had it bad, Malfoy?” He raised his eyebrows, inching his chin a little. “You were LUCKY. You were fucking LUCKY, you self-pitying asshole! I know hundreds of people who’d gladly give their right arm to have what you had!”
Draco huffed. He almost did lose his right arm. Which was ironically what got him there in the first place, wasn’t it?
“Oh yeah?” he snarled. “What exactly? WHAT?”
Boot squared his shoulders, his jaw tightening. “Safety.”
“There’s a name for those kind of people, Boot,” he said venomously. “Disloyal gutless BASTARDS!”
With that he turned around, continuing to curse loudly under his breath. The paranoid man was already gone - slipped away without them even noticing. The drunk had passed out and the woman was staring at the lamp again.
Draco moaned in fury, and stormed out of the small back room of a nameless shop into the streets of a muggle city. For a while he blindly stomped along the roads, not really caring where he was heading as long as he got to hate as much as he could.
Idiots. IDIOTS!
“BLEEDING FUCKING IDIOTS!” he told the world, gripping his hair in frustration and bumping roughly into the side street’s wall. He couldn’t believe this - he was so convinced, so utterly sure he wasn’t the only one. Sure, yes, by now he realised that things didn’t come easy when your name was Draco Malfoy but this - for once! - wasn’t even about him.
This generation disappointed him immensely.
He expected tons of people - hundreds if he were completely honest - hell yes, sure he expected the fucking ministry to show up because of the mayhem they would’ve caused! He expected rage and anger and- ‘REVENGE!’ he wanted them to shout. ‘REVENGE FOR OUR PARENTS!’
Because Draco? He was pissed. No really, he was actually livid. And that’s saying something, because the boy was pretty irate to begin with. Heck, he was kind of angry by nature as it was.
Humiliation was so much worse when he was the only one around to note it.
Breathing hard, Draco slowly uncurled his fingers, letting them slip down from his hair with a few strands he accidentally ripped out between his coiled digits. No. No, this wasn’t his fault! He did everything right, everything he could’ve possibly done - he did it! It was their fault, everyone’s fault but his - and he meant that! If it weren’t those who were on his side, it was those on the other one who brainwashed everyone else.
No, no, he was happy. Happy because it was clear they were weak, useless… stupid, too! He couldn’t run an army of chickens! No, he refused to. So this was for the best, really. Yes. For the fucking BEST!
It was a shame the night sky was so clear around this part of town of all the districts, really. That the heavy mid-summer clouds foreshadowing rain and thunder and other pleasantries decided to drift apart and proudly reveal a beautifully pregnant moon and its child stars exactly there where no head could be arsed to turn upwards, where the only faces that did were half unconscious and half in the gutter beneath the dark heavens.
Draco roared. Roared again and kicked a lantern, regretted kicking it and roared even louder. But his anger was short-lived considering the amounts he was lashing it with, and out slowly began to tip over into nausea. The contracting of his muscles as he gripped and clutched everything within arm’s length ready - to tear it to pieces - subdued into a lazy hum in the back of his head and all of a sudden he couldn’t exactly remember what that thing was he was supposed to do in order to stay on his feet. Wavering a little, he drunkenly threw his arms around the lantern in an attempt to keep himself up. Which was rather amusing, he thought, because he wasn’t drunk at all.
‘We can fix that,’ thought Draco vaguely as he slid to the ground, landing messily in a puddle of rainwater.
“Oh look!” he called to no one in particular, pointing up at the sky, lying on his back as he did. “Full moon.”
Part 5
Thank-you for participating in the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange.