Clean

The Indiscretions

Chapter 11: The Indiscretions

Granger frowned, uncertain. "What do you mean, 'not like this'?"

Resisting her was torture. She was still wrapped securely around him, her body pressed against his. Draco was profoundly displeased that his better judgment was prevailing.

He didn't want to let her go. And he didn't – not right away.

He cleared his throat, searching for words. "There are things you don't know about me, Granger," he said hoarsely. "Things . . . things that would make you sick, probably."

She relaxed her arms, pulling back to look pointedly at him. "I know who you are, Malfoy."

He shook his head. "You don't," he said flatly. "Don't insult me by pretending a few days doing homework together is enough for you to understand me."

She scoffed. "Don't be dramatic, Malfoy," she said, leaning back. "I've seen enough to know you're not the prick you've been the last six years. I'm fully aware you're not the child you used to be – "

"That's not what I mean," he said curtly, cutting her off. "Whatever this is, trust me when I tell you it can't happen."

"I know that nobody would approve," she admitted. "And – and I know there's something going on with you, even if you won't admit it – "

He snorted. "I'm certainly not sharing anything with you, Granger," he said coldly. He looked away from her, hating himself. "You couldn't possibly understand the consequences," he said quietly.

She slowly retracted her arms from where they'd wrapped themselves around his neck and he felt his heart sink.

Good, he thought, trying to steel himself. For once, Draco, do the right thing.

She tilted her head, seeking out his eyes, but he refused to look at her. She peered at him for a few moments before slowly letting her hands travel down his chest, her fingers sliding down his stomach before coming to rest while gently encircling his wrists.

Her slender fingers moved to take his left hand in hers, running her thumb across one of the many lines of his palm. Slowly, she began un-cuffing his sleeve, causing him to violently retract his hand, shrinking from her. She held on, grasping his wrist tightly.

"Don't," she warned. Her grip on him softened. "Just let me," she said, pleading softly.

He took a deep breath, still averting his gaze. Perhaps it was best, he thought. She's smart. She'll see it and then she'll understand.

She pushed up his sleeve, tantalizingly slowly; he shivered, waiting. When her fingers stopped making their way up his forearm, his sleeve pushed almost to his elbow, he heard her gasp. Draco finally looked at her, too curious not to watch her face change; he examined her golden brown eyes as they widened, and he felt shame like he'd never known before, a swampy disgust with himself that settled uncomfortably at the base of his stomach.

She was looking at his Dark Mark, and not even her touch could stop the punishing reverberation that always seemed to emanate from it. He bit his lip regretfully, wishing she hadn't seen it – though he knew it was for the best. He didn't trust himself to make the right decision, and hoped that for once, the mistakes he'd already made would be enough to undo this one.

"I thought so," she said finally. She looked at him, her expression a mix of disappointment and something that looked suspiciously like pity. He jerked his hand away, stumbling backwards. His heart sank as he realized he had been the only one still holding on. He hurriedly picked up his wand, repairing his torn shirt and backing away uncomfortably.