Hermione had just sunk into the scented bubbles and closed her eyes when she heard the door to the bathroom open. When she looked up, she found him watching her.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly. He nodded.
“You?”
“Fine. Would – “ she hesitated for a moment, biting her lower lip as she did. Was she being too forward with him? “Would you like to join me?”
“In there?” he asked, giving her a strange look. She shook her head and closed her eyes.
“You’re right – I’m sorry.” Why would she have thought that he would have said yes? He thought her to be dirty, after all. She was lost in this train of thought when she felt him stepping into the tub with her, and her eyes flew open in shock. She watched as he sank down across from her, wrinkling his nose at all of the bubbles.
“You would invite me in when you know I’ll emerge smelling like a rose garden,” he remarked dryly. She giggled.
“But it would be such an improvement,” she teased.
“Would it?” his voice was serious, but his eyes held the promise of laughter.
“You know, I never thought I’d say this,” she began, feeling his toes brush against her leg. “But sometimes I think I rather enjoy your company.”
“Naturally.” She rolled her eyes.
“Until you act like that, anyway.” They were silent for a long time – so long, in fact, that she began to fall asleep.
“Thank you.”
It was so quiet that she was hardly certain he’d actually said it, but there it was, hanging heavily in the air between them.
“You’re welcome,” she breathed, forcing herself to keep her eyes closed. When she felt his fingers close around her ankle, she opened them. A wicked gleam was in his eyes as he tugged, causing her to slip beneath the surface. She emerged spluttering, and wiped the bubbles off of her face before she shot a false glare at him.
“Prat.”
“You liked it and you know it.”
“You’re going to pay for that, you know,” she replied calmly. His eyebrows shot up.
“Am I? I don’t think so.”
“I’ll make you pay.”
“Doubtful.”
“That sounded like a challenge,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
“Perhaps, but not one you could live up to.”
She dove across the tub, giggling madly as she straddled him, and put one arm on either side of his head. He looked extremely surprised at first, but then relaxed.
“You were saying?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. He snorted.
“Surely you don’t think you’ve paid me back by doing this,” he said, highly amused. She smiled.
“Well, you can’t very well go anywhere with me sitting here, can you?” she asked reasonably.
“As if confining me beneath your naked body is punishment,” he drawled. She giggled as he poked her side beneath the water, and then gave him a look of mock astonishment.
“Why, Mister Malfoy, one would think you were actually enjoying my company,” she quipped. His smile faltered.
“And if I am? What of it?”
Her breath left her in a rush, making her feel dizzy. The only thing she could think to do was to lean down and press her lips gently against his. He took her completely by surprise when he returned the kiss with such fervor, tangling his fingers in her wet hair and holding her close as he kissed her.
They were so wrapped up in each other that they hadn’t noticed the bathroom door opening, nor did they hear it when it shut with a soft click.
Natalia covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sob that threatened to escape her. She pulled her high heels off and ran down the hallway as fast as she could, fairly leaping into the floo when she reached it.
How could he? How could he betray her that way, and with a Mudblood, no less? She didn’t know what hurt more; the fact that he’d been consorting with a half-breed, or the fact that he looked like he was enjoying it. He’d certainly never taken a bath with her before – not that she would allow it.
Draco had been the center of her world for nearly a year when things had started to crumble. He was everything she’d ever wanted – attentive, but not to the point of distraction. Not clingy, handsome, and rich. He bought her everything she’d ever wanted.
It was about the time that her father died when things had started to go wrong. He became moody and reclusive, ignoring her in favor of a book or newspaper. He stopped going to his weekly Quidditch games with his best friend Blaise, and he stopped taking her out to dinner every other night.
That was when she’d decided to freeze him out of her bed.
She’d had suspicions that it was the one vice he had left, and that he’d continued on with it, despite the fact that she didn’t participate. She was acutely aware that all of the whores in Knockturn Alley knew his name, but it hadn’t bothered her, as long as he’d left her alone.
Then suddenly a few weeks ago, everything had changed. He’d started taking her out again, he’d started playing Quidditch again, and he’d started disappearing from the Manor at odd times. She’d known that something was amiss; she just hadn’t been able to say what that might be, exactly.
What she needed was a good, stiff drink. She flooed to the nearest bar, which happened to be the Hog’s Head. It was undignified for the likes of her, but at the moment, she really didn’t care. She just needed something to get the picture of him with the other woman out of her head.
She sat down at the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, glaring at the bartender when he stared too long at her running mascara. She downed the first shot and winced, banging the glass against the polished wooden bar so he would come and refill it. After she’d had three shots, she turned and looked down the bar.
Her eyes widened when they landed on Harry Potter.
He looked totally miserable, taking a long pull from a brown glass bottle. She licked her lips. Hadn’t Draco said something recently about Potter and his girlfriend – the Mudblood? Her pulse raced. Was he only sleeping with her because she was Potter’s girl? Surely she was allowed some measure of revenge on the both of them, wasn’t she?
She moved two stools down and flashed her most brilliant smile at him, which he ignored. She frowned. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
“Hey,” she said, her voice husky. He looked sideways at her.
“I don’t have any money,” he said sourly.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t have any money to pay for a hooker.” Her cheeks burned as she slapped him.
“I am not a prostitute!” she exclaimed indignantly. Immediately he looked remorseful.
“Oh, God – I’m sorry! It’s just that most women who approach me in here are – well, let’s just say that they’re less than upstanding citizens.”
“It’s all right,” she said, relaxing. “Sorry about the slap.”
“It’s okay,” he said, grinning. “’s the first willing contact I’ve had with a woman today, anyway.”
“Is that so?” she asked interestedly. She put a warm hand on his knee and leaned into him. “Tell me about it.”
Hermione straddled him in the water, impaling herself on him over and over. The sensation of his hands grasping her hips tightly only added to her desire, and she moaned.
“Say my name,” he whispered, his steely eyes focused intently on her face. “Say it.”
She gasped and dug her fingernails deeper into his shoulders. “Please – please,” she breathed, not knowing what she was asking for. “Draco, please.”
He closed his eyes and thrust upward as hard as he could, eliciting a low scream from her. His name fell from her lips repeatedly as she rode him, until finally he groaned with release.
She shouted his name one last time as her walls tightened around him, and he watched as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. When she had finished, she met his eye, her cheeks flushed from their activity.
Instead of speaking, he pulled her down for a long kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth languidly. When she made to leave his lap, he held her tight and stopped kissing her to look her in the eye.
“Don’t,” he said simply. She kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You certainly taught me a lesson,” he breathed between kisses. “I’ll never challenge you again.”
She nipped gently at his lips before giving him a soft laugh. “I’m sure you won’t.”
“What say we move this enlightening conversation to the comfort of my bedroom, rather than the bath? The water’s getting rather tepid.”
“I thought we’d just heated it up quite a bit,” she said. As soon as the words slipped from her lips, she covered her mouth with her hand. He gave a startled laugh, which made her stomach turn several somersaults. He really was handsome when he was happy.
“It would seem that someone has been around me too long – you’re starting to sound like me.”
“Perverted?” she offered, rising from the tub. Lazily he watched her as she wrapped a towel around herself.
“Sensible,” he amended, finally rising himself. She handed him a towel, which he took and wrapped loosely around his hips. There were several moments of awkward silence as they dried off, and she shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to get some rest now,” she said, her tone subdued. She picked up her clothes and hugged them to her chest. “Is there somewhere I can floo back, or do I have to apparate?”
He turned and stared at her. “You’re ready to leave?”
“I just thought-“
“You think too much,” he said, yanking the clothes from her hands and tossing them into the tub. She watched in astonishment as they sank beneath the surface of the water. “Oops – how clumsy of me. I suppose you’ll just have to stay until I can be bothered to retrieve them and cast a drying spell on them, since you left your wand at home.”
“That was incredibly childish,” she said, her voice evidencing the surprise she still felt. He smirked at her.
“If you thought that was childish-“ he began.
She shrieked as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her into the adjoining bedroom, then threw her on the bed. He opened her towel and began running his hands over her bared flesh.
“Why?” she asked softly, her eyes hooded in the flickering candlelight. He froze.
“Why what?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” He relaxed and rubbed his fingers lightly over the side of her bare breast, noting with satisfaction that gooseflesh arose on her softened skin.
“Why were you nice to me last night?” he challenged, his eyes still on hers. She shifted so that she could see his face better in the dim light.
“That’s not fair; I asked you first.” His fingers trailed down to her hip, where he splayed his hand out and caressed her with his thumb. She sucked in a quick breath.
“I beg your pardon? Could you repeat the question? I wasn’t quite paying attention.” His mouth touched lightly to her shoulder, and she began to tremble.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” her voice was barely audible, even in the silence of the room. He bent and touched his mouth to hers before replying softly.
“Because you’re letting me.”
Natalia groaned as Harry slammed her brutally against the wall, his lips and teeth fixed on the delicate skin of her slender throat. Draco had always been gentle in his lovemaking – never like this. Harry Potter was like a wild animal; his mouth and hands felt as though they were everywhere at once.
He gripped her bum hard as he thrust upward, and she screamed. He grinned ferally as he moved both of them to the sofa and covered her body with his. She hadn’t thought that revenge would be this enjoyable, and vaguely she wondered if Harry would mind if she called on him regularly.
When they were both sated and lying motionless on the sofa, she cleared her throat.
“That was – it was amazing,” she said softly. He laughed.
“Might’ve been even better, had I not had any alcohol tonight.”
“Are you saying that-“
“I’m saying that I do a better job of things when I’m not partially pissed,” he said, laughing as he disentangled himself from her. She found her clothes and began dressing.
“I think that’s something I’d like to explore further,” she said calmly, watching him ogle her as she buttoned up her blouse.
“Is it?” his eyes glittered mischievously.
“As a matter of fact,” she purred, straddling his still naked body, “I think it’s something I might like to explore every night.”
“Oh,” he breathed, his eyes focused on hers. Something seemed to connect in his mind suddenly, because he stood up and pushed her off of him. “No, that’s not something that I want.”
“What? Why not? You don’t have a wife, do you?”
“No, but I do have a girlfriend.”
“You have a girlfriend?” she echoed, trying to sound incredulous. “She must not be a very good one if you brought me home, you know. Are you sure you’re not just lying to me to try and let me down easily?”
“I’m not lying,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “And this never should have happened. I’m sorry that I let it.”
She glared at him as her eyes narrowed into slits, and then laughed suddenly. He frowned at her.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking how much my boyfriend is going to love hearing about this,” she said, her eyes filling with tears of laughter. Harry’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t think you were the only one who could fool around, did you?”
Harry’s stunned silence was her answer.
“Oh – you did, didn’t you?” She clucked her tongue. “Wait until Draco finds out – he’ll laugh himself stupid.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just say-“
“Draco Malfoy is my boyfriend. Why, do you know him?” she asked innocently.
“I think you already know the answer to that,” he said carefully. “Does he know you’re here?”
“Are you kidding? If he knew, he’d already be here, breaking your door down. As it happens, he’s at home with his own bit on the side.” Harry blinked.
“He’s cheating on you with another woman, and you’re – you’re okay with that?”
“No, I’m not okay with it,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “Why in the hell do you think I came on to you so strong in the bar?”
“So you slept with me to get back at him?” he snarled. “Do you have any idea how much the two of us hate each other?”
“You’re about to hate each other even more, for more reasons than you know,” she quipped, smiling beatifically at him. He ground his teeth together in frustration.
“Be seeing you,” she called over her shoulder, exiting his flat.
Hermione’s eyes were closed, but she was further from sleep than she’d ever been in her entire life.
Her head was resting on Draco’s shoulder, and one bare arm was slung across his chest. His left arm was wrapped around her, and his fingers hadn’t stopped caressing her arm since they’d assumed this position. It was intimate, she thought; so much more so than when they actually had sex.
What frightened her more than anything else was how much she liked it – and how much she was growing to like him – at least for tonight, anyway. It saddened her to think that he’d shown her a part of himself (the paintings) just to revert back to an ass to her the following day. She was sure that that was what was going to happen; but then again, she’d known that all along, and yet she’d still continued to sleep with him.
Her heart twisted once at the thought of Harry, and then she quickly pushed her betrayal from her mind. Draco would end their tryst soon enough, she was sure of it. If he was torn up about his girlfriend staying away (and he had looked upset), then she was positive that he would end things and go to her.
It was simply a question of when.
She had to admit that she wasn’t looking forward to losing him any time soon, and the thought made her snicker softly. Lose him? How could she lose something she never really had to begin with?
“I thought you were asleep,” he said softly.
“I thought you were asleep,” she answered back, snuggling closer to him.
“Exactly how awake are you?”
“Awake enough,” came her soft reply. “You?”
“Same.” His fingers continued to stroke her arm gently. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he cleared his throat. “She’s not really gone just for the weekend, you know.” Hermione closed her eyes, trying to drown out the hopeful voices in her head. She and Draco would never be together in anything other than a secret capacity, and she knew it in her heart of hearts. Why, then, was this foolish hope dancing around inside of her chest the way it was?
“She’s not?”
“We had a fight. She said that she was tired of waiting for me to propose to her.”
“Why don’t you?” she asked curiously.
“We’ve changed,” he said simply. “Me more so than her. I just don’t think she’s the one I’d like to be tied down to anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him.
He shrugged. “You don’t care about me, and for good reason. Why should you care whether or not I’m unhappy in my relationship?”
Hermione bit her lip as she stared at him. She did care about him, as dangerous as it was to do, but that didn’t mean that she wanted him to know that. Her pause, though, made him frown.
“You can’t,” he said, his voice low. “You-“
“I don’t,” she offered quickly, shaking her head. It was too late, though; the damage had been done. He fairly leapt off of the bed and shot an accusing glare at her.
“Go home.”
With that, he strode out of the room, leaving her alone in the big bed.