Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger (with Crookshanks, Osiris, Lucifer, Fleck, and Cookoo all kibbitzing.)
Location: Granger-Malfoy flat of shouting and boxes
Date: 16 May 2000
Status/Warning: Private/Language (It's Malfoy doing manual labor, what sort of language would you expect?)
Summary: Moving day
Completion: Complete
(
I'm thinking 'bout moving in//Commit myself to you, forget where I've been )
He moved away from her, his hands twisting together as he struggled not to go for his cigarettes. "Not leather, doesn't have to be leather. Suede, satin, whatever. Leather's best, but it doesn't have to be. Type doesn't really.... That's a lie. Tall or short, either's fine, but-but I like, um. There is a type. Loads of buckles or laces. Sort of pointed toe, a good heel." He paced away from her, grimacing. "You have no idea how tough some of our lessons were on me. Especially when you'd put your feet up in my lap, good fuck, I nearly died."
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"Or lots of buttons?" Hermione remembered him playing with all the little buttons that ran all the way up her pretty grey calfskin boots. "I'm sorry I made things hard for you. You could have said something. Or at least not encouraged me to put my feet up." She wasn't going to challenge his language when she wanted him to open up. "Do you have a pair you keep for times you need them or do you transfigure something? Would you show me?" Hermione asked with open curiosity.
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He whirled around, eyes widened, and crossed the room to cup her cheeks, suddenly terrified that she might think his attraction to her was based on that alone. "But not because you wear them, love, that's not it. Please don't think that. That's not it. It's you, I'm in love with you, and you'd never need to wear a pair of boots in your life again and I'd still love you. You turn me on. They just ... help."
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She shook her head and looped her arms around his waist. "That thought never even crossed my mind, love. Truly. I know you love me with or without the boots." No one who looked at her the way he did, boots or no, or did the things for her that Malfoy did, would possibly be in it only for her footwear. "There were no boots involved on Beltane and you seemed very happy." Hermione hugged him. "I don't mind that you like boots, Draco. You don't mind that I like watching, or like it when you pin me against doors, or hold me down in bed. Those are just things I like, but it's you I love."
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He wrapped his arms around her, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her neck. "You're too good to me, Granger. Love me, stroke my ego when I demand it, and accept my quirks. You're truly very special, you should know that. I'm never letting you go." He bent to nip at the curl of her ear and purred softly. "And believe me, everything you just said there works for me too. Especially the holding you down bit. That's, um. That's very fun."
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Hermione melted against him. "I don't want to be let go, and I am keeping you. I don't see anything wrong with you liking boots, Malfoy." She shivered at his mouth on her ear.
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"We should either stop or..." Why did they need to go to the bedroom? It was their flat. They could do whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted. And she was wearing boots with her skirt. Would he like to try it mostly dressed? Would he want to in her study? Her work table was the right height for her to work at standing up, which meant it would be perfect for... Hermione buried her burning face in his chest. She really was too bold with him sometimes. It was only that he made her feel so sexy. "You um... you mentioned wanting to look at my photo album?" Hermione wished she hadn't pinned her hair back on the sides that morning, so it could hide her burning face.
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He tightened his grip around her waist and traveled back along her jaw to nip at her earlobe before lifting his head. She was right, they should stop. They still had the last few bits of unpacking and moving in to finish up before they allowed themselves to get distracted, no matter how delightful that distraction sounded. "I did," he murmured, keeping his voice low to keep it from going hoarse over her. "Want to see how my girl grew up. See what my daughters might look like, too."
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Hermione liked when his voice got rumbly. "Now that I have the pen you gave me for Christmas on my desk and the last of my books put away, I can show you the pictures. I have to decide what to do with the things in my trunk, but those can wait. It's mostly things I want to save but don't need all the time. The two instruments left in the box there are ones I plan to replace. I decided not to bother finishing the reassembly of the one that burned me. I think their previous owner was a little heavy handed. I can afford to buy new ones now. You can come with me to Dervish & Banges later, if you'd like." She would like it if he did. "I wouldn't mind a sandwich or some fruit and cheese for lunch. Are you hungry? We could eat and look over the album." She was rambling but it was difficult to focus when she was still recovering from his teeth nibbling her ear.
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When he finished with his cigarette, he popped one of the mints he habitually carried and sucked on it while he settled onto the sofa facing the fireplace. He decided to wait on opening the photo album until Granger was ready to go through it with him. She'd been raised Muggle, and he was certain there would be plenty of things she'd need to explain to him. Kids were kids the world over, but Muggles were a different world.
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"Ready?" Hermione asked him as she sat down beside him. "There will be no making sport of my father's hair in my baby pictures," she cautioned him. Her dad kept his hair very short now, but he hadn't then. It would be very clear where she got her atrocious mane when he saw the photographs of her dad back when she was born.
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