Her Shoes

Everybody do the wave for my beta: t_stevenson! Hey girl!



Chapter dedicated to ScaryBearHair because it was partly inspired by A Licentious Proposition. If you haven’t read it then go do so RIGHT NOW!



Now the shoes are one my faves and I own a pair but not these. Every girl should have a pair of Wellies (https://www.saddler.co.uk/prodpics/ready/hunterrhsoriginalwellingtonbootthistleandforgetmenotdesign_large.jpg).



Thanks again to all the lovely reviews. I read them all and appreciate everyone’s rocking enthusiasm. A special shout out to the one who called my Hermione a proper British girl. Thanks for that, I really made the effort.



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Hermione opened her eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the muted light filtering through the long, flowing silk curtains.



For a moment, her sleep-addled mind forgot the day of the week as well as where she was. She stretched slowly and felt a large, solid wall of warm muscle spooned behind her. An arm pulled her in tightly under the thick duvet blanket she lay under. She snuggled closer, smiling and sighing wistfully as she remembered where and who she was with. It all came back to her in a lovely, post-orgasmic rush.



Today was Sunday; Draco Malfoy’s delectably naked body pressed against hers. She nestled against him basking in the heat and feel of him loving the feel of his bare skin against hers.



He had carried her into his bedroom Friday evening, tossed her on this massive bed and crawled up next to her leisurely divesting her of her dress and shoes. Quickly shucking the remainder of his clothing, he climbed into bed next to her and pulled her against him to nap. Before falling asleep, in a sleep heavy voice he told her he’d have dinner brought up later. They both drifted off exhausted from the long, stressful workweek.



He woke up about an hour later and groggily kissed her awake with small, sweet kisses across her shoulders. He ordered a wonderful light fare of lemon-grilled chicken, couscous, salad and white wine. For dessert, he proceeded to make love to her with a maddeningly, deliberate and unhurried passion that left her nearly breathless. He worshipped her breasts and body. Lavishing her with tantalizing kisses licks and love bites as if she was a priceless work of art, all the while murmuring little amorous phrases in French. He called her ‘ma chou’, ‘chaton’, ‘cygnet’, then onto English with ‘his sweet’, ‘precious’, ‘darling’, ‘beautiful’ and ‘hellcat’. She had laughed heartily at that last endearment.



Draco was an enthusiastic, fervent, giving, talented and very, very adventurous lover. He clearly felt compelled to dominate her and she happily loved submitting to him. He had taken her several more times throughout the night in various creative positions.



Saturday was spent in his suite. She wore one of his expensive French cuffed shirts and he was in a pair of low-slung men’s silk pajama bottoms. They had a fast and furious coupling in his shower, again on the floor of his closet, then in the oversized tub and played one or two more inventive, erotic games on his enormous bed. Who knew Draco Malfoy had a penchant for toys? And goddess, did that man love bondage!



Sexual intimacy with Draco was remarkably comfortable for Hermione. He went out of his way to ensure she felt no modesty in his bed. He wanted her to feel free to explore all heights of pleasure to be had with him. Coyness and shyness be damned, unless they were role-playing, he had added with a grin.



Hermione was deliciously sore from his vigorous lovemaking. The man had incredible stamina.



They laughed, talked, read and, sometimes, just enjoyed each other’s company in complete silence. He lent her an owl so she could write Pansy, asking her to stop by her flat to feed Crookshanks with a postscript saying she’d explain all later. In between all the talking and lovemaking had been snogging, lots and lots of snogging. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses and neither, it seemed, could he get enough of her lips.



Several times throughout the weekend, she had asked Draco to explain how he knew about Adrian and his strange behavior the previous week and years, in fact. Though she had more questions, particularly from her discussion with Pansy and Ginny, she felt that she needed to start small. But he had dodged her questions aptly, simply saying that he would tell her soon when the timing was right.



At one point, so frustrated with his evasions, she let her anger get the best of her and began to dress, slipping on her shoes to leave. He’d deftly caught her around her waist and begged for her patience, adding little words of ‘please’ and ‘ma petit doux’. This heated exchange led to him taking her against one of the walls of his bedroom. She had cried out his name over and over again, legs firmly wrapped around his waist, her patent leather Mary Janes still on her feet.



A deep groan brought her back from her ruminations. One of Draco’s hands slid up her stomach to her breast and he began to pluck her nipple gently while the other hand began to dip into her already thrumming pussy. His hard cock jutted against her and pushed in between her thighs from behind her.



“Mmm, gods, I can’t get enough of you,” came Draco’s voice hoarse and sleep-ridden.



“Fuck me, Draco.” Hermione whispered.



He chuckled lightly. “No, sweet. You fuck me.” With that, he rolled off her before commanding, “Come on Granger, turn around.”



Hermione swiveled her body to look at him before smiling playfully. “Need something from me, Malfoy?”



Grinning devilishly, his eyes glinted silver. “Don’t speak. Get up here and ride me.”



Not moving, she propped her head up in one hand. She blinked, still smiling.



“Granger? I’m waiting.” Draco growled.



Merlin, she loved it when he said that phrase in that forceful, demanding tone. It sent the most delicious chills down her spine and she felt moisture pool low within her. As graceful as a cat, never dropping her gaze, she lifted her body onto her knees and climbed over Draco. Licking her lips, she raised herself over his hardness. She grabbed his waiting erection until it nestled against her then she ever so slowly lowered herself onto him. Her eyes closed as she felt him fill her so deeply; gasping, she threw her head back in delight, her curls tumbling everywhere until he was buried fully into her warm, waiting body.



Suddenly, Draco thrust his hips upwards. “Fuck me. Ride me.”



Hermione began to slide up and down on his thick, hard length in a continuous, deliberate rhythm.



“Oh.” Hermione gasped out.



“Touch your body, lose yourself in the sensations. Don’t rush a thing, sweet. Just enjoy.” Draco groaned out.



Hermione looked down at Draco. His eyes were closed, the lines on his face were hard, and his neck muscles taut from passion. He grasped the headboard for support. Enjoying the power she held him in, she picked up her pace gradually going faster and faster until she was bouncing on his body and cock with such exertion her body was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. She touched her body, playing with her breasts, pinching her nipples while Draco whispered to her, ‘fuck me’, ‘that’s it’, ‘harder’ and ‘faster’.



She adjusted her hips with just the right undulation and found her own sweet spot. Hermione groaned aloud. Her movements were reaching a frenzied pace; feeling the familiar tense coiling of an orgasm. She was spurred on by the sounds of flesh slapping upon flesh as she felt herself begin to ride an incredible wave.



“Oh, Draco.” She gasped out, she was so very, very close.



“That’s it. Cum for me. Come on, Granger. Fuck me until you cum.”



She felt herself topple over the edge right then. White, hot stars exploded behind her eyes as her body trembled with the force of her release. Her inner muscles clenched hard around him and with a small groan, Draco quickly flipped her onto her back and began pounding into her with reckless abandon. His release came as she was still riding the throes of her own passion.



Draco’s body slumped on top of hers. “Merlin,” he gasped out trying to catch his breath. “You’re going to wear me out, witch. I doubt I’ll be able to walk for days.”



Hermione laughed while trying to catch her breath. She could feel the heavy beat of her heart. “You’re not the only one that can barely walk.”



She felt Draco’s body shake with laughter as he raised his head to look at her. “Let’s shower.”



As he rolled off her petite body, she pouted up at him, “Draco, I have to go home today.”



He smiled down at her. “Okay, sweet. Let’s shower, have some breakfast and then I’ll Apparate you home.”



“I can use the Floo.”



“Do you want my grand-mère to Avada me? No, I’m a gentleman, Granger. I’ll see my lady home, thank you very much.” He grinned.



Hermione looked somewhat pensive and asked softly, “Is that what I am? Your lady?”



Draco’s entire demeanor changed as he rolled onto his side to face her, his head resting on his palm. With his free hand, his fingers traced her skin delicately. His face was a mask of serious possessiveness and his voice like steel. “I think that’s clear, don’t you Granger? You’re mine. Period. End of discussion. No more holding court with idiots like Towler, Smith and Belby. Certainly, no more lunch or dinner dates with that bastard Pucey. Got it? From this moment forward, you only hold court with me and all your dates will be with me. You should know, I’m a selfish bastard and can be a very jealous and possessive man, Granger.”



On some level, she would normally be slightly alarmed by his words, tone and possessive gaze but she wasn’t. No, her traitorous body and heart relished the way he looked at her, held her, wanted her and had lay claim to her. For all his darker dominant traits, Draco was also fiercely protective, gentle and loving. She felt safe in his arms and knew no harm would ever befall her under his tender care.



His fingers still played along her skin while Draco gazed down at her, his eyes a swirling sea of emotions she dared not study too closely right now. Best not to dwell on things that caused her breath to hitch, her heart to speed up and mind to drift onto topics she wasn’t quite ready to face just yet, at least not today.



Instead, she flashed Draco her most brilliant smile, she too was feeling emotions she wasn’t ready to admit to as yet. “I understand,” she whispered, then leaned over and pressed a small kiss to the thin line of his lips and cupped his face tenderly with her hands.



Almost as if he had been holding his breath, Draco exhaled long and deep. Hermione’s heart skipped. Merlin, had he expected her to reject him? Draco didn’t allow her much time to ponder that concept. Smirking, he grabbed one of her hands, placed a kiss on her palm and rolled her up with him. “Let’s take a nice long, shower. I want to try that pulsing feature.”



Hermione giggled as he hauled her over his shoulder and stalked off into his decadent bathroom.



***************************************

At home on Sunday evening, barefoot and wearing a pair of blue boy short style briefs and matching camisole, Hermione stood inspecting her closet as she coordinated her outfits for the week.



Draco had taken her home and quickly made himself comfortable, storming into her bedroom and demanding to see her knicker collection. He made love to her again on her couch after forcing her to model a white satin thong with oversized bow ties, the ends trailing down the side of her thighs. He had expertly undone the ties with his teeth and made her beg him to take her as punishment for owning such naughty knickers, prolonging her release until she was quivering and sobbing with need. Then smirking wickedly, he proclaimed that his work was done for the day and winked at her before Apparating back to the Manor.



Merlin, she was Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend. That thought nearly caused her entire system to shut down. How had that happened?



She couldn’t stop grinning. She thought about what she was going to say to Pansy and Ginny. They had to be dying of curiosity as to why she hadn’t come home this weekend along with receiving a missive from an owl with the Malfoy Crest, no doubt.



Well, thought Hermione, she was still resolved to understand who the real Draco was. Now that she was his, she had every right to inquire and conquer, so to speak. She still had every intention of confronting him to demand an explanation for his mysterious behavior and inexplicable actions.



Of course, not only was she his but he was also hers. A point she quickly brought up to him during their shower, before he experimented with the pulsing feature. No more slags or bints, as she called them in her mind. To Draco she had simply stated that he was to cease and desist dating other Muggleborn, half blood, pureblood or any other blooded witch of any kind. Especially, Naida Clearwater.



Draco laughed, delighted at her possessive tone, kissed her nose and told her no one else had ever mattered to him but her. Then he turned on the pulsing feature and all talk was washed away in wave after wave of pleasure. The bastard certainly knew how to change the subject.



Bringing her presence of mind back to her closet and to the task at hand, Hermione made her final selection then crawled into bed, her thoughts spinning as she looked forward to Monday morning.



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Monday dawned overcast and cloudy; typical London weather. Hermione smiled as she looked out her window. She loved rain and thought that she might rethink one of her outfits if rain was in the forecast.



That afternoon, Draco greeted her with a smile and kiss as soon as she had Floo’d into the blue sitting room. He announced he wanted her to join him for lunch everyday, if her schedule permitted. She replied she would ensure she was available and drew his head down for another kiss to seal the bargain. He held her hand as they strolled along the long corridor leading up to his suite, all the portraits murmuring appreciatively. Cecilia winked and waved as they passed her portrait, Hermione smiled back warmly. She’d made a mental note to stop by before tea to share with Cecilia that Draco and she were a couple now. Though she suspected Cecilia knew already.



Merlin, a couple. She shook her head still wrapping her mind around that concept.



They made a good team; Hermione shared her progress with Draco. He had listened intently before sitting down to add to her work with additional research of his own. Just before tea, he pulled her onto the couch for a lovely snogging session. They reluctantly went back to work and finally called it a day.



Draco Apparated her home once again and had stayed for dinner, ordering take-away from her favorite local pub. They ended the evening with another heated snogging session that nearly landed them in bed until the tapping of an owl was heard at Hermione’s window interrupting them. The owl was from Pansy and Ginny demanding to know that she was alive and well.



Draco gently kissed her goodnight before departing. Hermione quickly scribbled out a note to the awaiting owl telling her friends that she would see them for lunch on Thursday.



Monday set the pace for establishing their work routine over the next few weeks. They’d kiss hello, work until – kiss some more – lunch, butterfly kisses, work, snogging, research, snogging, work, snogging, tea, snogging, wrapping up for the day, snogging, Apparate to Hermoine’s flat or stay in Draco’s apartment on the weekends, snogging, dinner, snogging, fucking Hermione into the floor/wall/bed/door or any other hard surface, to end with a loving peck goodnight. When they eventually did make their way out of bed, they spent their time walking about Diagon Alley or Muggle London to explore, shop or share a meal.



Life was good.



All the while, Hermione felt she was getting to know a bit more about the enigmatic Draco Malfoy. He joked with her, challenged her, made her laugh, argued with and irritated her all while letting that icy façade of his melt away. She enjoyed watching him, especially when he was unawares.



She studied how he scowled whenever he read something that contradicted his own theories, the way he would sometimes would bite his quill in deep concentration, he would run both his hands through his hair in frustration, his eyes would crinkle and twinkle when he was amused, how his fists clenched and unclenched whenever he spoke about his family, particularly his father. She watched him while he slept peacefully, holding her to him tightly from time to time and how a soft caress from her usually calmed him.



She began to see Draco underneath all his bravado. He was a man with deep emotions who spent quite a bit of time on his own. He didn’t trust easily and never really let his guard down. He sometimes felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he strived to keep his family’s name respected and his company profitable. He confessed to her that he had many Muggle and Wizarding families that relied on him. It was why, he explained, the project they were working on was so important. It really did bridge the Muggle and Wizarding world quite brilliantly providing huge benefits to both.



Her heart ached for him at the thought he felt so alone despite being surrounded by people all the time. She felt honored he trusted her and let her into his guarded heart. Rejection was his greatest fear. It reminded her of their first weekend together after he’d waited for her reaction to his speech of Hermione being his. He’d been upfront with her, not wanting her to have any illusions of him. The real Draco Malfoy was proving to be a man she admired and respected.



When she could manage it, Hermione would slip away for small talks with Cecilia and every Friday at exactly two forty-five in the afternoon, Meena would escort Hermione to the Solarium for her weekly tea with Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione had yet to see the elder Malfoy but knew from Draco his health was still rather dodgy. He hoped to formally present her to him shortly. Hermione cringed at the thought but said nothing, not wanting to upset Draco.



She also continued in her attempts to draw out explanations of his behavior. However, he would just shake his head and say he would tell her when it was the right time. His avoidance began to anger her, they would row until he would swoop in and kiss her senseless, begging for her continued patience.



She brought her friends up to date on her latest romantic developments. She told Pansy and Ginny over lunch on the prior Thursday, as promised. Pansy had smirked in a very Slytherin manner while Ginny had squealed in happiness, asking if she could release a blind item to The Daily Prophet in an effort to scoop Witches Weekly and The Quibbler. Hermione rolled her eyes and said she wanted to run it by Draco.



Eventually, she also shared the news with Ron and Harry over another lunch with just the three of them. They nearly choked on their butterbeers. Ron sputtered something about ‘ferrets’ while Harry burst out into genuine laughter saying that he should have seen this coming. She let them know Draco made her very happy and the boys were to treat him in a respectful and courteous manner or they would greet the end of her wand.



Nearly a month and a half into their relationship, Hermione awoke on a Thursday morning to the light pitter-patter of rain falling against her window.



She jumped out of bed and ran to the window finding a light drizzle. ‘Perfect,’ she thought as she ran to owl Davis she’d be taking a personal day that morning. She scribbled another note to Draco asking him to open the Floo connection from the Manor to The Leaky Cauldron. She then dashed to shower, quickly dressed and pulled her hair into a neat ponytail, which she plaited before Apparating from her flat, umbrella firmly in hand.



That afternoon, she arrived into the blue sitting room slightly damp, she looked around the room for Draco as she shook out her umbrella. Meena handed her a note on familiar parchment.



Sweet,

I trust you arrived safely. Am caught up at the office, the merger I’ve been working on for the last month hit a snag.



I’ll be there soon.



Ever yours,

Draco



P.S. I’ve arranged for lunch with my arrière grand-mère, a table awaits you.



She smiled musing at the marked difference between this note and all of his prior ones. She thanked Meena, making way through the familiar foyer, up the stairs and reaching the portrait gallery. She paused in front of the painting of Draco’s arrière grand-mère and looked on with pleasure at the little table and chair set up in front of Cecilia’s portrait. A steaming bowl of tomato-bisque soup and garden salad lay on dainty porcelain china next to gleaming silverware. Her favorite beverage, pumpkin juice, had been poured into a lovely crystal goblet.



“Good afternoon, Cecilia.”



“Hermione darling. How are you? Please sit down, you must be starving.”



“I’m well and quite hungry. I’ve been out all day. It’s drizzling a bit but I do so love the rain.”



“I see you’re dressed for it.” Cecilia chuckled glancing at Hermione’s outfit for the day. “Draco’s still at the office?”



Hermione sighed, “Yes. He’s been so stressed lately by this business merger. Apparently, the head of the board is possibly having second thoughts. Draco’s terribly concerned. He and his team have spent an inordinate amount of time drafting the contract trying to meet the potential partner’s demands. It should have been signed this morning at eight o’clock.”



“Draco has faced these types of challenges before. I’m sure everything will work out. I always tell him, what’s meant to be will be.” The lady offered kindly.



“I see your point but this is so important to Draco. He’s lost sleep over this and I worry about him.”



Cecilia added a few more encouraging words as Hermione shrugged out of her outerwear and rested her umbrella against the table. As Hermione ate, they talked about the books Hermione had read lately and passionately discussed the merits of Jane Austen, whom Cecilia had the pleasure of meeting once. She was just finishing lunch and explaining about Muggle cinema when Hermione felt strong arms wrap around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent that was uniquely Draco – hot cinnamon spice, juniper with just a hint of musk.



“Enjoying lunch?” Draco’s voice whispered in her ear.



“Yes, it’s lovely. Thank you.” She tilted her head up slightly to kiss him lightly on the lips.



Draco looked up and smiled at his grandmother’s portrait. “Bonjour arrière grand-mère.”



“Bonjour Draco. Etait comment le travail, le chéri?” She smiled kindly.



“C'était bien. Aujourd'hui est un jour pour la celébration.” Draco grinned widely. “We signed the contract.”



Upon hearing Draco had secured the merger, Hermione jumped up and flung her arms around his neck. She pulled his face down to hers and peppered him with small butterfly kisses. “Draco that’s wonderful. Congratulations.”



Draco hugged her tightly, grinning at her infectious enthusiasm. She leaned back and smiled brilliantly up at him. He stared down at her, blurting out and laughing loudly, “What are you wearing, Granger?”



Hermione stepped back and glared up at the tall, blonde eyeing her up and down. “Pardon? What is that supposed to mean?”



“Sweet. What are you wearing? On your pretty little feet?” He gave a curt nod towards her feet.



Looking down, Hermione glanced back up and said defensively, “Wellies.”



Eyebrow raised, Draco echoed, “Wellies?”



“Thistle and Forget-Me-Not Wellies. I think they’re adorable.” Hermione admired her footwear, lifting her leg up to show Cecilia.



That morning, Hermione had donned dark denim, low-slung cigarette jeans, and an incredibly soft and versatile cashmere turtleneck button sweater in indigo blue. The sweater had a ribbed neck with buttons going up the middle; the matching ribbed waist hugged her waist and hips nicely. She had pushed up the three-quarter sleeves to her elbows while eating lunch. On her feet, she wore boots in a lovely baby blue, Wellies that came up to her knees. She had purchased them because they had been designed especially for the Royal Horticultural Society, which her mother had been a long time member. She adored the beautiful color and the gorgeous thistle and forget-me-not flower pattern along the entire outer surface of the rubber boot.



“Granger, why on earth would you wear Wellington Boots, you don’t need them if you take the Floo and Apparate, you’re a witch.” He couldn’t help but laugh again.



“It’s raining, Malfoy.” She replied haughtily. “I took the morning off to walk in the rain.”



“Walk in the rain? Are you insane? You’ll catch your death!” Draco admonished sternly.



Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly Malfoy! I did wear a trench.” She pointed to a stylish navy blue A-line, swing trench coat resting over her chair. “And I did use an umbrella,” nodding to where it rested against the table.



Cecilia, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, cut in saying to Draco, “Draco darling, the Malfoy Gardens are in bloom right now, are they not?”



Draco eyed her grandmother, shook his head in defeat and grinned. “Indeed.” Turning back to Hermione he added, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Draco then jogged off towards his suite.



Ten minutes later, he returned wearing dark denim jeans, a thick cream-colored Irish cable-knit wool sweater and an off-white A-line double-breasted pea coat-style trench. On his feet were black Wellington boots and in his hand was what appeared to be an oversized umbrella.



“You have Wellies!” Hermione admonished.



“Of course, I’m British. Let’s go.” Draco helped her on with her trench and grabbed her hand tugging her towards the stairs.”



“Go where?”



Draco turned, his hair falling across his twinkling eyes, and flashed the most brilliant crooked grin she’d ever seen. His voice was low and tender, dancing delicately across her skin. “Why to walk in the rain, Granger.”



Waving goodbye to Cecilia, Hermione allowed Draco to guide her down the stairs. They came to the foyer and Draco went past the familiar blue sitting room. They continued to walk past several doors including Narcissa’s Solarium until Draco pushed them through a set of double doors. They entered what appeared to be a beautifully ornate ballroom styled in turn-of-the-century décor with gorgeous detailed murals of dancing figures gracing the walls. Draco pulled Hermione through the room towards a set of grand glass double French doors at the back of the ballroom.



As they stepped through the French doors, he opened his umbrella, which was large enough for four people and grasped Hermione’s hand. “This path leads to the gardens.”



Draco led her onto a glorious tiered terrace overlooking an expansive green lawn. She knew, were she to explore, to her right was the Malfoy Maze he had told her he’d gotten lost for nearly an entire evening as a boy. To her right were the gardens. Draco and Hermione walked to the right, down the stairs and onto a small stone path until they came upon the famous Malfoy Gardens.



A glorious oversized arbor marked the entrance. As Hermione entered, she gasped at the sheer loveliness. Around her were lush borders bursting with a profusion of blooms and colours. She tried to identify as many flowers as her mother had taught her, Begonias, Verbena, Lavender, Black-Eyed Susans, Petunias, Asters, Peonies, Daisies, Chrysanthemums, Lily of the Valley, Violets. And the roses, roses in every color and size lay in front of her in glorious shades of pinks, yellows, reds and whites. She inhaled deeply as she admired the Boxwood, Hydrangea and Dogwood strategically planted throughout the gardens.



“Draco, this is . . . so . . . beautiful.” She whispered.



“Mother designed it. She brought it back to life after the war. It’s her pride and joy,” he explained.



Feeling tears sting her eyes, she confessed quietly, “My mother would have loved it.”



Draco stopped and looked down at Hermione. He cupped her face gently, wiping the lone tear that escaped from her wet lashes. Saying nothing, he pulled her to him, held her and kissed the top of her head. She had shared with him how her parents had died. He knew their memory was still painful for her.



They spent part of that afternoon strolling the gardens in the rain. The soothing plop of raindrops hitting their oversized umbrella was the only sound other than their muted voices. They talked extensively about Hermione’s mother who taught her to love books, the rain and the beauty of nature. Draco confessed his obsession for Tolstoy, Chekhov and, ironically, the playwright Tennessee Williams.



Chekhov’s tragic and static characters, he explained, always reminded him to pursue his dreams and desires, to not settle for life as handed to him. That he had the power to do with life as he pleased. He also enjoyed the passion of Williams’ characters. As flawed, deluded, wrong or sad as they might be, Williams’ main characters were always driven by passion. Despite poor choices or how their story might end, they’d risked everything for what they passionately wanted.



Holding hands, listening to him, Hermione realized he was really talking about himself. This was the Draco Malfoy no one knew. He hid his true nature behind societal expectations, business acumen and false childhood prejudices. There were so many sides to him that the sheer force of his own determined nature overwhelmed her.



Merlin, did she love him!



“Oh my!” Hermione gasped and nearly tripped over her Wellies as she realized what she had just admitted, albeit to herself.



“Sweet? Are you alright?” Draco’s concerned tone barely cut through her little reverie as he steadied her.



Silent, she tried to gain control of her breathing. She shouldn’t be surprised really. This was a long time coming. She’d been attracted to Draco for years, secretly wanting him to notice her. She’d been obsessed with his voice, admired his intelligence, been impressed by his new stand on blood values. Now that she knew him, truly knew him, she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her life. However, the full impact of her admission nearly knocked the wind out of her body.



“I’m fine. I was startled because I tripped.” She explained in between small pants and gasps for air.



Draco eyed her speculatively. “Perhaps we should get back inside; the stones are wet and slippery.” He held her securely as he turned them back towards the Manor.



“Draco?” Her voice soft and pleading stopped any further movement as he looked down at her. Her eyes held an unspoken question. She was sure her feelings were written all over her face but at that moment, she needed him desperately. Draco waited for her to speak.



“Kiss me? Please?”



No words were needed as the corners of his lips curved upward. He slipped his free hand to cup the nape of her neck, gently tugging her thick plait so her face tilted up further. Slowly, he brought his face towards her stopping millimeters from her lips. He then trailed kisses from one corner of her mouth across her cheek, up towards her forehead to her other cheek. He kissed her nose before come back again to gaze upon her soft pink lips. Gently, he nipped at her lower lip then kissed it softly before tracing his tongue across her lips.



Hermione felt the butterflies flutter wildly in her stomach in anticipation for Draco to claim her mouth. Her eyes closed at the first press of his lip and the feel of that glorious velvet tongue as it swiped across her lips caused her chest to rise a little more rapidly. Her lips parted to allow him entrance.



Draco plunged into her mouth and all time stood still.



He kissed her with forceful ferocity. Firing up a need and hunger that devoured her very soul. Again and again, he tasted her, exploring every silky crevice of her mouth. She kissed him back; intertwining her tongue with his as her arms crept up and around his neck. Draco dropped the umbrella and wrapped his arms around her body lifting her up to better savor her sweet warm honeyed mouth and feel her soft body pressed to his. One hand splayed across her back and the other hand cupped her bottom to pull her in closer. Hermione clung to him as if for dear life. Their tongues seductively dancing with one another, their mouths fused in a fury of passion, desire and something deeper.



And on that drizzly London afternoon, kissing desperately in the rain surrounded by the fragrance and kaleidoscope of blossoming flowers in the Malfoy Gardens, wearing Thistle and Forget-Me-Not Wellies, Hermione Granger knew she was irreparably and unconditionally in love with Draco Malfoy.



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This was actually my favorite chapter. Draco is quite besotted it appears?



I look forward to your thoughts. Constructive, mature feedback and reviews are always welcome.