Paper Faces on Parade
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
20,479
Reviews:
36
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
20,479
Reviews:
36
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Section 3
Section 3:
Draco was having the most wonderful dream of her. She had come to him late at night, throwing herself into his arms and telling him that she was tired of fighting the way she felt for him, and that she was ready to let him love her. He had been so happy, he had swept her up in his arms immediately, promising her that now that he had her, he would never let her go. She had allowed him to hold her, let him cradle her close, let him press soft kisses against her hair, her neck, whatever he could reach while he told her over and over again that he loved her and that he’d take care of her forever.
Scooping her up in his arms, he’d taken her to his bedroom, continuing his comforting promises as he carried her up the stairs and down the hallway to lay her gently in his bed. She had looked so beautiful against the backdrop of the satin sheets that it had been almost more than he could take, and when she reached for him, his restraint vanished completely as he practically attacked her with his mouth and his hands, showing her over and over again just how dearly he cherished her.
Waking up caused an almost tangible sense of loss. He was still hard from the memory of the dream and he dreaded the feel of his empty bed. His soft moan turned into a gasp of surprise as he felt a warm hand slide over his hip to his grip his erection. He shuddered at the exquisite sensation as the small, feminine hand stroked him firmly while a clearly naked body pressed against his backs its it possible his dream had finally come true?
“Pleasant dreams?” a husky voice asked, amusement evident in her tone. Draco felt warm lips plant a wet kiss against the back of his neck. “Were you dreaming of me?”
Draco’s heart plummeted down to his stomach as he remembered what had *actually* happened the previous night. There had been another ministry function that he had attended, hoping that she would be there. When she didn’t show, he had gone to the bar and started knocking back shots of firewhiskey. He vaguely remembered someone joining him at the bar, flirting with him and running her hand up his leg. He hadn’t pushed her away. Memories after that were flashes of apparating to a strange flat, snogging on a living room couch with ancient springs that groaned when they lay on it, and running his fingers through long blonde hair while he thrust into the willing body beneath him. Rolling over, he came face to face with Hannah Abbott who kept her hand firmly on his erection while grinning like a cat who had captured the cream.
“Want me to make those dreams a reality?” she purred, shifting her body so she could position herself on top of him. At least, that was her plan. It was somewhat thwarted when Draco pulled away from her, getting up off the bed and picking up his trousers from the floor.
“Why are you getting dressed?” she pouted, watching in disappointment as he covered that marvelous ass with material. It was entirely unfair that society required men to wear clothing, she decided, ogling his fading erection before he fastened the zipper over it.
“I hadn’t realized it was so late,” he offered weakly, slipping on his shirt and beginning to fasten the buttons. “It’s a good thing you woke me when you did.”
“Can’t you at least stay for breakfast?” she asked, sitting up just enough to let the sheet slip down below her breasts, squirming a bit to make them wiggle. To her dismay, he barely seemed to notice, grabbing his dress robes and slipping them on while he searched for his shoes, totally ignoring her naked, willing body spread out for his view.
“I really can’t,” he insisted, slipping into his shoes and shoving his wand into his pocket. “Mother will skin me alive if I’m not at the manor in time for tea.”
“Owl me?” Hannah asked hopefully, rising out of bed to give him a goodbye kiss he would have trouble forgetting.
“Of course,” he answered, flashing her his trademark grin before disapparating with a loud pop before she even had a chance to reach him.
He apparated into the living room of his flat with a moan of relief. He had let a Huffleptaketake him home? Just how drunk had he gotten? Stumbling into the kitchen, he grabbed one of the vials of hangover relief potion he kept on hand for just such occasions, and tossed it back with a single gulp. It tasted like Vincent Crabbe’s old socks, but the relief kicked in nearly immediately. Popping a Toothflossing Stringmint into his mouth to get rid of the taste, he headed for the shower. He really *did* have to meet his mother for tea, and she’d never let him hear the end of it if he showed up looking hung-over and freshly shagged.
Half an hour later, he arrived at Malfoy Manor with his robes perfectly pressed, his hair stylishly tousled, and the last traces of his hangover carefully eradicated.
“Good afternoon, darling,” his mother stated, tilting her cheek upward for him to kiss before he seated himself across from her. “And who did I rescue you from this time?”
“Rescue me?” Draco blustered, pouring himself a cup of tea. “What makes you think I needed rescuing?”
“You’re on time, Draco. You’re *never* on time, unless you’re using meeting s ans an excuse to get away from someone. And since Witch Weekly’s pictures of last night’s event showed you sinhandhandedly making the bartender earn his salary for the evening, it was not a difficult deduction to realize you crawled out of someone’s bed this morning. I was simply curious who the poor girl wass tis time.”
“Really Mother, I don’t see how it’s any of your concern just who I choose to spend my time with—”
“A Hufflepuff, then,” Narcissa mused, “or you wouldn’t be so embarrassed. Susan Bones, perhaps? You’ve always had a singular appreciation for women who were well-endowed. Perhaps I should have held you more as a child…”
“Mother!”
“Ah, not Susan then. What a pity. As far as I can ascertain from Witch’s Weekly, she really is quite a lovely girl, and well positioned to advance in the Ministry, thanks to her aunt. But if not Susan, then her friend Miss Abbott perhaps?”
“Really Mother, if you’d actually *go* to some of these events instead of depending on Witch’s Weekly to inform you then you might—”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Narcissa interjected smoothly. “It’s always a give-away when you try to change the topic under discussion, dear. Have I taught you nothing about the conversational arts? As for the rest, after twenty five years of marriage to your father, I would be quite content never to attend another ministry event in my life, as you know perfectly well. I’ve had enough of being ‘charming’ to last me for *two* lifetimes. At this stage in my life, I’m ready to be cantankerous, and aggravate my charming son.”
“You’re succeeding admirably,” Draco grumbled into his tea, brightening slightly when the owl for The Daily Prophet zoomed in through the open window. Finally, an excuse to end the conversation!
“You don’t mind if I read it first, do you, Mother?” he asked, not waiting for her answer before pulling the paper out of the owl’s clutches and placing the appropriate amount in the animal’s pouch.
“Of course not, dear,” she answered, smiling a bit into her teacup. Flustering her debonair Draco was the most fun she had all week. Bless him for being so easily rattled! It made things far more amusing for her. The smile, however, slipped off her lips and was replaced swiftly with a worried frown when she saw the look on his face as he stared at the front page.
“Draco? Darling, what is it? What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”
Draco rose abruptly to his feet. “Mother, I have to go,” he announced snapping his fingers to summon a house elf to fetch him his cloak.
Narcissa rose to her feet as well. “Draco, you’re scaring me! What is it? Are you alright? Tell me what’s going on!”
Itsy arrived with his cloak at that moment and Draco fastened it on, planting a soft kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I’m fine, Mother, but I have to go. I’m sorry to spoil your tea. I promise I’ll owl you later.”
“But Draco—” Narcissa began, but didn’t finish. There was no use in finishing her question. Draco was already gone. Mystified, and more than a little worried, she picked up the edition of The Daily Prophet that had started this and her eyes widened in surprised comprehension as she read the headline, “SHE’S GONE: Hermione Granger Leaves England for Good.”
“Oh you poor boy,” she murmured softly, reseating herself in her chair. No wonder he had run out like that. She quickly skimmed the article. No doubt after reading that, Draco was on his way to find Harry Potter. He’d want an explanation, and would probably demand it at wand point, wanting to know how Harry could allow out of their lives the woman that Draco loved.
*******
Draco was having the most wonderful dream of her. She had come to him late at night, throwing herself into his arms and telling him that she was tired of fighting the way she felt for him, and that she was ready to let him love her. He had been so happy, he had swept her up in his arms immediately, promising her that now that he had her, he would never let her go. She had allowed him to hold her, let him cradle her close, let him press soft kisses against her hair, her neck, whatever he could reach while he told her over and over again that he loved her and that he’d take care of her forever.
Scooping her up in his arms, he’d taken her to his bedroom, continuing his comforting promises as he carried her up the stairs and down the hallway to lay her gently in his bed. She had looked so beautiful against the backdrop of the satin sheets that it had been almost more than he could take, and when she reached for him, his restraint vanished completely as he practically attacked her with his mouth and his hands, showing her over and over again just how dearly he cherished her.
Waking up caused an almost tangible sense of loss. He was still hard from the memory of the dream and he dreaded the feel of his empty bed. His soft moan turned into a gasp of surprise as he felt a warm hand slide over his hip to his grip his erection. He shuddered at the exquisite sensation as the small, feminine hand stroked him firmly while a clearly naked body pressed against his backs its it possible his dream had finally come true?
“Pleasant dreams?” a husky voice asked, amusement evident in her tone. Draco felt warm lips plant a wet kiss against the back of his neck. “Were you dreaming of me?”
Draco’s heart plummeted down to his stomach as he remembered what had *actually* happened the previous night. There had been another ministry function that he had attended, hoping that she would be there. When she didn’t show, he had gone to the bar and started knocking back shots of firewhiskey. He vaguely remembered someone joining him at the bar, flirting with him and running her hand up his leg. He hadn’t pushed her away. Memories after that were flashes of apparating to a strange flat, snogging on a living room couch with ancient springs that groaned when they lay on it, and running his fingers through long blonde hair while he thrust into the willing body beneath him. Rolling over, he came face to face with Hannah Abbott who kept her hand firmly on his erection while grinning like a cat who had captured the cream.
“Want me to make those dreams a reality?” she purred, shifting her body so she could position herself on top of him. At least, that was her plan. It was somewhat thwarted when Draco pulled away from her, getting up off the bed and picking up his trousers from the floor.
“Why are you getting dressed?” she pouted, watching in disappointment as he covered that marvelous ass with material. It was entirely unfair that society required men to wear clothing, she decided, ogling his fading erection before he fastened the zipper over it.
“I hadn’t realized it was so late,” he offered weakly, slipping on his shirt and beginning to fasten the buttons. “It’s a good thing you woke me when you did.”
“Can’t you at least stay for breakfast?” she asked, sitting up just enough to let the sheet slip down below her breasts, squirming a bit to make them wiggle. To her dismay, he barely seemed to notice, grabbing his dress robes and slipping them on while he searched for his shoes, totally ignoring her naked, willing body spread out for his view.
“I really can’t,” he insisted, slipping into his shoes and shoving his wand into his pocket. “Mother will skin me alive if I’m not at the manor in time for tea.”
“Owl me?” Hannah asked hopefully, rising out of bed to give him a goodbye kiss he would have trouble forgetting.
“Of course,” he answered, flashing her his trademark grin before disapparating with a loud pop before she even had a chance to reach him.
He apparated into the living room of his flat with a moan of relief. He had let a Huffleptaketake him home? Just how drunk had he gotten? Stumbling into the kitchen, he grabbed one of the vials of hangover relief potion he kept on hand for just such occasions, and tossed it back with a single gulp. It tasted like Vincent Crabbe’s old socks, but the relief kicked in nearly immediately. Popping a Toothflossing Stringmint into his mouth to get rid of the taste, he headed for the shower. He really *did* have to meet his mother for tea, and she’d never let him hear the end of it if he showed up looking hung-over and freshly shagged.
Half an hour later, he arrived at Malfoy Manor with his robes perfectly pressed, his hair stylishly tousled, and the last traces of his hangover carefully eradicated.
“Good afternoon, darling,” his mother stated, tilting her cheek upward for him to kiss before he seated himself across from her. “And who did I rescue you from this time?”
“Rescue me?” Draco blustered, pouring himself a cup of tea. “What makes you think I needed rescuing?”
“You’re on time, Draco. You’re *never* on time, unless you’re using meeting s ans an excuse to get away from someone. And since Witch Weekly’s pictures of last night’s event showed you sinhandhandedly making the bartender earn his salary for the evening, it was not a difficult deduction to realize you crawled out of someone’s bed this morning. I was simply curious who the poor girl wass tis time.”
“Really Mother, I don’t see how it’s any of your concern just who I choose to spend my time with—”
“A Hufflepuff, then,” Narcissa mused, “or you wouldn’t be so embarrassed. Susan Bones, perhaps? You’ve always had a singular appreciation for women who were well-endowed. Perhaps I should have held you more as a child…”
“Mother!”
“Ah, not Susan then. What a pity. As far as I can ascertain from Witch’s Weekly, she really is quite a lovely girl, and well positioned to advance in the Ministry, thanks to her aunt. But if not Susan, then her friend Miss Abbott perhaps?”
“Really Mother, if you’d actually *go* to some of these events instead of depending on Witch’s Weekly to inform you then you might—”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Narcissa interjected smoothly. “It’s always a give-away when you try to change the topic under discussion, dear. Have I taught you nothing about the conversational arts? As for the rest, after twenty five years of marriage to your father, I would be quite content never to attend another ministry event in my life, as you know perfectly well. I’ve had enough of being ‘charming’ to last me for *two* lifetimes. At this stage in my life, I’m ready to be cantankerous, and aggravate my charming son.”
“You’re succeeding admirably,” Draco grumbled into his tea, brightening slightly when the owl for The Daily Prophet zoomed in through the open window. Finally, an excuse to end the conversation!
“You don’t mind if I read it first, do you, Mother?” he asked, not waiting for her answer before pulling the paper out of the owl’s clutches and placing the appropriate amount in the animal’s pouch.
“Of course not, dear,” she answered, smiling a bit into her teacup. Flustering her debonair Draco was the most fun she had all week. Bless him for being so easily rattled! It made things far more amusing for her. The smile, however, slipped off her lips and was replaced swiftly with a worried frown when she saw the look on his face as he stared at the front page.
“Draco? Darling, what is it? What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”
Draco rose abruptly to his feet. “Mother, I have to go,” he announced snapping his fingers to summon a house elf to fetch him his cloak.
Narcissa rose to her feet as well. “Draco, you’re scaring me! What is it? Are you alright? Tell me what’s going on!”
Itsy arrived with his cloak at that moment and Draco fastened it on, planting a soft kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I’m fine, Mother, but I have to go. I’m sorry to spoil your tea. I promise I’ll owl you later.”
“But Draco—” Narcissa began, but didn’t finish. There was no use in finishing her question. Draco was already gone. Mystified, and more than a little worried, she picked up the edition of The Daily Prophet that had started this and her eyes widened in surprised comprehension as she read the headline, “SHE’S GONE: Hermione Granger Leaves England for Good.”
“Oh you poor boy,” she murmured softly, reseating herself in her chair. No wonder he had run out like that. She quickly skimmed the article. No doubt after reading that, Draco was on his way to find Harry Potter. He’d want an explanation, and would probably demand it at wand point, wanting to know how Harry could allow out of their lives the woman that Draco loved.
*******