A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

34. What the Hell are You Doing?

Dedicated to SusanChilkotowsky because it's her birthday soon! I'm a little bit early, but that's better than being late ^.^ I hope you have an amazing day. 

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“Why can’t people just sit and read books and be nice to each other?”

- David Baldacci, The Camel Club

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It had not been his plan to kiss her. Admittedly, he hadn’t really had a plan to begin with, the initial idea being to distract her by any means from Weasley. He supposed he’d achieved exactly that anyway, because she was definitely not paying him much mind now. Still. There were plenty of ways to gain someone’s attention without having to result to such… physical contact. And he thought maybe somewhere he’d already known that; practically lunging himself at her hadn’t been necessary, and therefore, perhaps residing somewhere deep in his subconscious, it had been his plan to kiss her after all.

Whatever the reasoning for his actions, he soon didn’t care, because at that moment Hermione, who hadn’t dared moved or spoke, finally came back to life. He expected to receive a punch in the face, for her to shove him or to yell. Instead, she did the least likely thing, something Draco could never have prepared himself for, and later Draco would think maybe a punch in the face would’ve been more preferred.

She wounded her hands up around his neck and pulled him closer to her before her mouth began moving under his in an almost ferocious and desperate manner. She then pried his lips apart, forcing entry, and started to message her tongue against his own as her hands slid up and through his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp, and when she bit his lower lip, Draco released a groan. They both paused, as if startled by the sound. Granger recovered first and nibbled again at his lip; after that, Draco didn’t need much persuasion.

A burning desire that he was quite unable to control flowed through him, consuming Draco and dulling every part of him that protested. He shoved her into the wall, his mouth fighting against hers as she fought him on it every step of the way; each determined to take over the other. It irritated him, because Draco Malfoy was not one to be dominated, and the kiss turned rather brutal. It was teeth scraping and lip biting – nothing at all like their first kiss. His hands found her waist and began moving upwards slowly along her ribs, caressing the side of her breasts. She shuddered at the contact and became, if possible, even more demanding. He continued until he had her face in his hands, at which point she wrapped her leg around his hip. 

But then before it could really begin, some drunk not far away gave a loud laugh at something his mate had said. The sound was enough to remind Hermione of where they were and soon she was pulling away. Draco’s hands fell away from her reluctantly. Granger also released her hold of him and rested her head against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she regained breath. He tried hard not to look at her panting like that because he knew it would only arouse him further, and he already had a troublesome reaction in his pants he needed to control. So he focused on calming himself, neither one saying anything.

Three minutes had passed when Granger righted herself again, stepping away from the wall and fixing her clothes that were thoroughly rumpled, looking over in the direction Weasley had last been seen as she did, an almost worried expression on her face.

“He wouldn’t have seen, Granger. We’re right at the back of the room,” he snapped, having trouble keeping the bitterness out of his tone when she was acting as though kissing him was scandalous. Which he supposed it was in a way, and this only annoyed him further.

Draco resisted the temptation to look away when she met his eyes directly. “I’m going to go, I think.” Her voice was strangely quiet. “Not because of you, I’m just not in the mood for celebration.” She started to turn away.