Disguised Affections

A/N: Everything you recognize is JK Rowling\'s. I\'m just playing with her puppets.

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Chapter Twenty-Three



“Stop fussing so much! I’m fine.” Her voice was fond and exasperated as the three boys fluttered around her, touching and petting her and arguing over who would carry her bag.



“Look, Weasel! I don’t care how long you’ve known her, she’s my girl, and she’ll walk on my arm. You,” Severus imbued the word with great distaste, “You can carry her bag. Potter! For gods’ sakes! Stop petting her! Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?” He scowled fiercely at Harry who had a hand stroking down his friend’s hair. Severus was man enough to admit to himself that he didn’t like the fawning attentions of her very good, very male friends.



Hermione laughed. “I think you are the only one who’s uncomfortable, Con. Harry’s just glad to see me up and about and coming back to Hogwarts.” She smiled a radiant smile that made them all catch their breaths collectively. “Come here, boys. I’m so glad to see you. Thank you all so much for coming for me at Malfoy Manor.” She held her arms open, and Ron and Harry fell into them like puppies, snuffling in her hair and wrapping their hands tightly in her cloak.



“’Mione, we’ll always come for you. Just try not to let it happen again soon, okay? We’re still recovering,” the redhead said, smiling playfully. Harry nodded and gave her hair a sharp tug.



Hermione looked past them to where the blond, patrician boy was standing by himself on the stone staircase that led into Hogwarts. “And Draco…”



He held up a long-fingered hand, stopping her speech. His eyes were solemn, but friendly. A scar ran diagonally from above his left eyebrow across the bridge of his nose and down underneath his right eye. It gave him a dangerous, rather picaresque appearance that counterbalanced his pretty-boy looks quite well. “No need to thank me, Granger. After all, I came into my inheritance early and picked up this nifty scar along the way.” He smiled coolly as she stepped closer to him, and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “The girls drop their panties even faster now. It’s a distinct whooshing sound, you know. Why, if I’d realized, I’d have gotten one of these years ago.”



Hermione took advantage of his close proximity and wrapped her arms around his slender waist and tugged him up against her. He squawked and his arms waved awkwardly, refusing to close them around her. “Merlin’s undershorts, girl. Let go of me! You’re going to get mud all over my robes!”



She released him sighing, and Draco saw three pairs of eyes trained on his face that were identical in their censure of him. Harry, Ron, and Severus stood in front of them with their arms crossed over their chests. Draco blinked, confused. “What?” Comprehension dawned suddenly, and he shouted, “Oh, shut the hell up! It wasn’t a slur. It rained like the bloody dickens last night! Look at the hem of her robe!”



“Thank you, Draco,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. “For everything.”



Pink suffused his face and he mumbled something totally unintelligible while he tugged at his blond forelock. He cleared his throat and straightened, tapping his Malfoy reserves of dignity. “I’m pleased to see you looking so well, Granger. I’ll see you tomorrow in Arithmancy.” He sketched a small bow and turned on his heel, leaving them in the entrance hall.



“You two boys are lovely, but I think I’ll have a bit of a lie down now if you don’t mind. Constantine can help me to my room. Hand my bag back. Even my girly muscles can manage a single flight of steps, you twits.”

They grumbled as they relinquished her into the long-haired man’s care. “Will we see you at dinner, Hermione?” Harry asked her.



“Yeah, it’s pot roast night! You love pot roast.”



“Actually, Ronald, you happen to be the one who loves pot roast. I’m the one who nags you to floss after eating it.” Her voice was dry.



He groaned. “Oh, yeah. In the glow of having you back, I’d forgotten how swotty you are.”



“I’ll see you this evening for supper, then. I’ll bring my dental floss for you.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands.



“That means leave now, you twin blemishes on Dumbledore’s ass.” Severus turned to Hermione and whispered, “Weasel is the pimple. Potter is the blackhead. Just to clarify.” He smirked when she giggled, and he cast a triumphant glance at the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. They rolled their eyes and left, taking a moment to kiss their friend on each cheek. “Shall we?” he asked her, offering the crook of his arm.



“Of course.”



He led her up the stairs.

---

Harry, Ron, and Draco sat outside by the Quidditch Pitch.



“So, we did it,” Harry whispered while watching the Hufflepuffs practice.



“Well,” Draco said matter-of-factly. “Some of us did it, yes. Others of us were not of much use at all as they were passed out in the hallway.”



“Prat,” Harry sighed.



Ron leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, wincing as the muscles in his chest pulled slightly.

“Ugh, those Chasers are rubbish,” he said pointing to the Hufflepuff team. One of them, a fifth year girl fumbled and dropped the Quaffle, and it fell like a stone to the pitch below. “If Ginny were here, she’d make some smartass comment.”



Harry spoke in a falsetto. “Honestly, have they got hands or elbows?”



Draco and Ron snickered. “Hate to burst your bubble mate, but that one she reserved specifically for you when you were off your game,” Ron said.



“What? No!”



“Afraid so.”



Draco sighed. “No, she probably would have said something like, ‘Oh dear! I do believe those poor Chasers have mistaken the game of Quidditch for a tea party and the Quaffle for a pretty bonnet that needs admiring. Someone should go take advantage of those fools while their heads are shoved up their arses.’” He smiled in fond recollection. His grey eyes were as soft as goose down. “Funny girl, your sis,” he said to Ron.



Harry looked at him in surprise. “You knew Ginny?”



“No, I’m just trying to fit in with you two lackwits.”



“Oh.”



The three boys were silent for a long while. Harry chewed on the nails of his right hand.



Draco sighed. “As much as I love tormenting you, she and I were just friends. Stop your worrying.”



Harry looked surprised. “I know that, mate. I was just wondering why you never talked about her before. In fact, I’m surprised the three of us have never before sat just where we are sitting now, and reminisced about Ginny and how wonderful she was.”



Ron and Draco shared a look that Harry couldn’t interpret.



The redhead leaned forward and spoke. “All right, then. I’ll go first. Once, when we were just kids, Ginny wanted me to teach her how to fly a broomstick. When I asked her why, she told me it was so that she could play Quidditch with us boys. I laughed at her and told her that girls were always rubbish at Quidditch and should be banned from playing. She conned Mum into teaching her some household charms, and she sewed the arm and leg holes to all my shirts and pants shut. Harry, you go next. Please remember she was my sister, and I’d prefer not to hear anything that makes me want to kill you.”



“Once, Ginny caught me looking at a girl wearing low-cut robes. She was super nice to me about the whole thing, and even said, ‘Right, Harry. Look I know you’re a bloke and you just can’t help it. Girly breasts just draw the male eye like Ron to pot roast. Because you’re a poor, drooling beast, I’ll make it easier on you!’ And then she charmed me so that every time I looked down at my own chest or caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I thought I was looking at a pair of really luscious bosoms. Okay, Draco. Your turn.”



“God, Potter. You’re seriously pathetic. What on earth would make you admit to that story?”



“Insulting me won’t get you out of it, Draco. Come on then. Let’s hear a Ginny story.” Harry smiled at the blond.



Draco looked down at his hands. “I don’t have any funny stories really. She was… just a really good friend. We’d argue about Quidditch nonstop, but she was there for me with a lot of stuff. You know,” he paused and looked up Ron and Harry, his eyes nervous and skittish. “She’s the one that helped me convince Mum to check into the Celestine Warbeck Clinic. I just… loved that she talked to me like she talked to any boy who loved Quidditch.” He laughed suddenly. “Well, no. She talked to me like she talked to any boy who she thought was mentally deficient and loved Quidditch. A little patronizing. A little scolding. Called me a moron many times.”



“I always knew Ginny was a smart girl,” Harry said, laughing.



“Aaaaaand that’s it. I’ve hit the upper limits of my tolerance level for hanging out with Harry Potter.” Draco stood up and brushed his robes off. “Fuck off and don’t bother me for a while, will you?” He stalked back towards Hogwarts and didn’t spare a glance back at the boys he was leaving behind him.



“What do you think that was all about?” Harry asked, perplexed.



“Well, he just admitted something personal to you, but he still hates your guts.” Ron cocked his head and smiled. “But I think he kind of views you as a friend, too.”



“Really?” the black-haired boy asked, perking up a bit.



“Yes, but don’t let it go to your head. I think it makes him want to vomit.”



But Harry wasn’t listening. “Imagine that. Me and Draco Malfoy are kind of, sort of friends.”

---

Severus watched Hermione flop onto her bed with an oompf and smiled. She held her arms out to him and gave him a wicked come-hither glance that made his cock twitch in remembrance of all the wonderful times he’d seen that look before.



“You have such a wicked mouth,” he murmured, smiling.



“The better to eat you with, my dear.” Her voice was ripe with desire, and he imagined that if he reached out a hand he’d be able to grasp it like a peach that was taut and yielded to his fingers. Hermione’s clever digits grabbed him by the waistband of his pants and tugged him closer so that she could work on his belt buckle.



He grasped her hands gently and pulled them away from his body. “Can I just lie next to you and hold you for a while? I shall never be able to get enough of it even if I live to be two hundred.”



Hermione was surprised, but she nodded and reached out for him.



Severus sank into her arms and allowed his body to press hers into the bed. He shivered slightly and she tenderly pulled her coverlet up to cocoon them both. His lips trailed up her soft neck, and he enjoyed her familiar smell while her fingers played with his long, limp hair.



He wanted her quite badly, and imagined sinking into her tight, wet heat and fucking her until she screamed his name. And that was the problem – his name. Severus was sad to see that his conscience was winning the battle over his libido, but he knew that it wouldn’t be fair to her to continue until he revealed his identity. He wouldn’t take her ability to choose away from her. Sliding off of her slightly, he curled up on his side and stared at her profile, trying to burn her features onto the fabric of his mind. Hermione felt his eyes upon her and turned to face him, smiling.



“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, running his fingers through her nest of tangled curls gently so as not to snag them on a knot and hurt her. Her brown eyes were soft and loving, and he leaned forward to kiss her lips lightly.



As Severus kissed her, his heart swelled and he knew – he just knew that this was it.



He couldn’t do it.



Drawing back to look her in the eye, he ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. Hermione smirked and flicked him on the ear.



He couldn’t leave her behind.



She was everything to him. The thought that he’d never hear her laughter, or work on Potions research, or make love to her in their bed ever again was anathema to him, and he was finally able to admit it to himself. It didn’t matter who he was. He didn’t care about their ages or what others would say. There was no longer any path in front of him that did not lead to her. Severus was a battered, unworthy man that loved her with everything in him, and without her, he’d dry up and blow away on the wind like a locust skin.



Getting no response to her teasing, she pouted and flicked him harder on the ear. He swallowed his delight and instead frowned and bit her on the shoulder with his crooked teeth and growled. Hermione squealed and squirmed, trying to get away from his mouth, and when he finally released her, she raked her fingers down his ribs. He laughed until tears streamed down his face, and he wasn’t sure if he was crying because he was happy or because he was frightened out of his wits. Nudging him onto his back, she straddled him and pinned his hands above his head.



“Do you give up?” she growled, showing him her baby canines in false ferocity.



The smile that grew on his face was organic and real and very dear. “Absolutely. I am at your mercy, Hermione. You devastate me.”



Her mouth was warm and sweet like honey and Severus took a moment to savor this just in case it never happened again. He nibbled on her bottom lip, and she made a gentle noise in the back of her throat. Their tongues slid against each other slowly, tasting and savoring, and he weakened slightly and allowed his hands to slide up her sides to cup her breasts gently.



Pushing her away slightly, he rearranged her until she was cradled against his side, her head on his chest.



“Hermione…”



“Hmm…” She was playing with a strand of his black hair.



Severus took a deep breath and his heart sped up. She felt it, and tilted her face to look him in the eye.



“Hermione, I love you.”



It felt unnatural and foreign rolling off his tongue, so he tried again. He cleared his throat lightly and whispered, “I’m in love with you.”



The change in her face was electric. The color drained from her cheeks before a becoming flush crept up her neck and face. Her expression was a study in happiness, and the Potions master felt his heart clench. Severus only hoped that she remained this happy when he revealed his identity.



“I love you, too. So very much,” she cried, and then their mouths pressed together hungrily and she was beneath him with her fingers fisting in his hair, and oh gods, it felt good to have the woman he loved beneath him, writhing and passionate. But Severus knew the time wasn’t right, and so he gave her one last kiss and pulled away. She mewled, discontented, but unspooled her arms from his neck.



“I have a promise to keep, Hermione, but then I want to sit down and have a serious discussion with you. Could you meet me after dinner in Greenhouse Eleven?”



“What kind of promise?”



“It’s… well, I have to meet with the Headmaster one last time. I’ll tell you all about it when I meet you this evening. That is, if you are free?” Tonight, in the greenhouse where they had first come together, he was going to reveal who he was, and ask her to plan a future with him. But first, he had to return his stolen years as he’d promised the Old Arse at St. Mungos. “It’s very important, love.”



He watched in interest as several emotions flitted across her face too quickly for him to identify. She nodded. “Seven o’clock in the Greenhouse then.”



Severus stroked his hand down her cheek, and gave her one last, lingering kiss before disentangling himself from her arms and walking towards the door.



Hermione was watching him with a hooded expression. “Remember that I love you no matter what.”



He nodded gravely and left her there, lying in bed with her lips puffy from his kisses and her hair tangled from his fingers.

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A/N: So, it was a chapter that was a bit of a holding pattern for our two lovers, but I think Draco, Ron, and Harry are well on their way to being friends, and I think that successfully rescuing Hermione and Lucius Malfoy\'s death did a lot to bring closure to Ginny\'s death. Next chapter... It\'s the one that everyone\'s been waiting for. It\'s the big reveal!!



Also, I\'ve decided that the next big fic I do will take place in this universe, and will feature Draco as our primary male lead. I\'m taking a poll: With whom do you guys think I should pair him? Keep in mind: SAME UNIVERSE! That means suggestions of Hermione and Ginny will be summarily dismissed and I will release a flock of flying monkeys to hover over your house and fling poo at you for not being a critical reader. Male or female is perfectly acceptable. I reserve the right to ignore you all.



Okay, you know the drill by now. Like it, love it, hate it, review it.