Second Chances

Disclaimer: Not mine.


Several weeks later, morning found Hermione sleeping dreamily, wrapped up in a cocoon of sheets and the comforter. Once again, a tapping at the window interrupted her blissful slumbers. Her eyes flew open, wakefulness coming quickly as she was filled with anticipation of Draco’s owl. He had sent one every morning for the past few weeks and she was growing accustomed to waking up to his notes and invitations. Much to her disappoint, the owl at the window was not Draco’s, but Pigwidgeon. She frowned and let him in, taking the scroll from the tiny owl. Ron had sent a reminder that they were having their weekly dinner together this evening at Harry and Ginny’s and mentioned that he’d be bringing someone. The frown turned into a scowl as she contemplated who this someone could be. While she and Ron had put their failed romance behind them, she wasn’t looking forward to this dinner with her two best friends, one of whom was happily married and one of whom hadn’t found her worth a long-distance relationship but apparently had changed the rules for someone else more worthy. She sighed, knowing that she didn’t begrudge Ron the happiness he must have found as much as it was a blow to her self-esteem. She pulled a light robe on over her nightdress and headed into the kitchen for breakfast.

Halfway through her bowl of cereal there was a knock at the door. Setting the dish on the table, she walked to the door and peered through the peephole to see the typically immaculate form of Draco Malfoy. ‘Shit!’ she intoned mentally, flying to the mirror to attempt to neaten her appearance. She realized it was fairly hopeless, her hair was in wild curls and she had no time to dress or apply makeup, so she grabbed her wand, muttered a freshening charm on her mouth and took a deep breath.

“Granger?” Draco’s voice sounded from the hallway.

“Coming,” she replied quickly, darting back over to the door and opening it for him.

He took in her appearance, noting the short blue silk robe tied loosely around her waist and the lacy slip peeking out from underneath. He lifted his eyes to tumbling curls and glowing brown eyes and raised an eyebrow at her, a lazy smile crossing his face.

“You were expecting me then?” he asked cheekily, waiting for the pink blush he knew would follow.

“Hardly,” she snorted, her eyes dropping. “Come on in and I’ll get dressed.”

“Not on my account I hope,” he replied with amusement still glinting in his eyes. “I just came over to give you this,” he extended a hand bearing a beautiful orchid, “and to invite you to dinner this evening.”

She took the orchid, looking delighted at the gift and setting it in the vase with the rose. “Actually, I do have plans tonight,” she said regretfully, gesturing to the scroll on the table, “Harry and Ron. Our weekly dinner thing.”

His expression darkened at this news and she was struck by an idea. “Why don’t you come?”

He looked extremely put out by the suggestion. “Oh yeah, that’d be welcome. I’d be in St. Mungo’s before you even had a chance to try to talk them out of hexing me.” He looked thoughtful. \"Or vice-versa I suppose.\"

“I’m not so sure of that,” she replied thoughtfully. “You know, after what happened sixth year, Harry always maintained that you\'d had a rough time of it. I’m not saying he suddenly recognized any wonderful traits or anything,” she went on hurriedly, seeing the skeptical expression on his face, “just that he seemed to think you were dragged into a situation that you weren’t ready to deal with.” she chose her words carefully, correctly ascertaining that he would not be appreciative of the fact that Harry had mentioned pitying Draco Malfoy on more than one occasion.

He looked supremely unconvinced, but seemed to be holding his tongue in an effort to avoid saying anything offensive.

“Look, I’m not saying that you’ll be friends instantly, or ever, but I know Harry and not only will he not start anything with you, he’ll hold Ron\'s temper in check. Besides, just think of how much it will annoy Ron. That has to hold some appeal, doesn\'t it?”

He appeared to be weighing the merits of the arrangement internally. Finally, he spoke. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. No good can come of a mix that includes the Weasel and I, much less he and his consorts. I’m sorry Granger, much as I relish the thought of irritating Weasley, it\'s not going to happen,” he finished in a manner that he evidently believed seemed final. The matter was closed as far as he was concerned.

* * * * *


Draco sat stiffly in his chair, wondering how he had been convinced to attend a dinner at Harry Potter’s house, of all places. His eyes drifted to the tiny witch seated next to him and caught her sparkling coffee colored eyes as she gave him a secret smile. His bad mood lifted slightly as he watched his lovely companion engaging Weasley’s date in conversation. The Weasel, meanwhile, had turned frosty blue eyes upon him. True to Hermione’s prediction, Harry had pulled Draco aside upon their arrival and quietly informed him that he hoped Hermione’s perceptions of Draco were accurate and that if Draco proved to be playing at something, the consequences would be swift and severe. Afterwards, he clapped him on the shoulder and said not to worry about Ron until that time. While Draco certainly was in no way afraid of the Weasel King, it did make for a rather awkward social situation, considering the hostility was rolling off the red-haired man in waves.

Meeting Weasley’s angry gaze, he steeled himself for a confrontation when the red-haired man suddenly let out a gasp of pain and Potter looked at him meaningfully. Grumbling under his breath about the shiftiness of ferrets and the betrayal of loyal friends, Ron finally relented and softened his gaze, looking away from Draco.

The conversation had been stilted to be sure, and the tension was heavy for the first few minutes, but eventually everyone relaxed a bit and managed to avoid any volatile topics. Hermione was surprised to discover that Ron’s girlfriend Katie was enjoyable company. The blow to her ego was softened by the fact Katie played for the Cannons, negating the complications of dating a touring quidditch player.

Draco had been very well behaved for the most part, choosing to stay fairly quiet rather than risk destroying the fragile peace that had been reached. As they said their goodbyes that night, Draco was surprised to find his hand being shaken by a serious looking Harry Potter.

“It was good to catch up with you,” Harry began purposefully. “I’m glad to hear that life has been going well.”

As Draco looked into the solemn gaze, he knew that Hermione had been right. Potter seemed even-tempered enough to reserve judgment for the time being. He had definitely achieved a mellowness in his maturity. And, more surprisingly, he was suddenly glad for this. He may never be friends with Harry Potter, but he knew it was important to Hermione that they try.

Unnerved by this thought, he put an abrupt end to the conversation. “Thanks, Potter.” He walked over to the fireplace and waited for Hermione to finish saying her goodbyes.

* * * * *

Draco sat on Hermione’s couch, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom. A huge ginger cat leapt onto the seat next to him, purring and rubbing against his side. Draco eyed the cat suspiciously as though it was something distasteful before cautiously patting it on the head, hoping it would leave him alone. The cat pushed into his lap and flopped down unceremoniously, leaving Draco aghast.

Hermione chose that moment to reenter the room, her eyes lighting up as she noted Crookshanks kneading Draco’s lap, a rich purr filling the room.

“Oh, clever Crookshanks, did you find a new friend?” she cooed to the huge cat, who continued purring and looking pleased with himself.

“Crookshanks, is it?” Draco inquired in a tight voice, trying not to wince as the cat’s claws pressed through his trousers into the skin of his thighs. “Nice cat.” His lip curled into a sneer as he spoke.

Hermione looked pleased at the idea that they liked each other so he decided not to dump the cat off of his lap quite yet. She went into the kitchen to get drinks and he narrowed his eyes at the rotund animal, trying to come up with a suitably inconspicuous method of unsettling the cat.

She reentered bearing two glasses of red wine and handed him one.

“It looks like Crookshanks likes you,” she said happily.

“Mmmm.” Draco was still trying to refrain from whimpering in pain as the claws kneaded his flesh.

“You know,” Hermione murmured, leaning in, “Crookshanks only likes trustworthy people. He’s part kneazle.”

“That so?” Draco was suddenly glad that he had not risked the wrath of the overbearing cat.

Hermione leaned closer still and placed a kiss on his cheek, stroking a hand across the silky platinum hair. Crookshanks leapt from Draco’s lap with a final swipe of his claws and stalked from the room. Draco pulled Hermione into the now vacant spot and pressed a kiss into her neck. She made a sound of contentment as her hands pulled the ribbon from hair and she threaded her fingers through the soft strands.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you in the bookstore.” She looked worried that he would object to the touch so he inclined his head and smiled to show his enjoyment.

“I’ve wanted to do a lot of things since I saw you in the bookstore,” he answered, brushing a kiss over her lips.

She sighed dreamily as his hands lightly stroked her back and bare arms. She had decided that kissing Draco Malfoy was very different that kissing any one else in the world. Kissing Draco was all consuming, and it lit every nerve ending in her body with pleasure to feel his hard body pressed up against hers as she lost herself in the taste that was uniquely Draco.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” she whispered between kisses. “I really didn’t want to go by myself and it meant a lot that you would agree to come. I know that you didn’t want to.”

Draco had begun kissing the juncture of her neck and shoulders as she spoke. He pulled away briefly to reply. “It was my pleasure.” He resumed his ministrations, his hands exploring every inch of bared skin while his lips and tongue teased the column of her neck. \"Actually, perhaps pleasure isn\'t the correct wording,\" he amended as he pulled away slightly, \"but I suppose it could have been worse. Somehow.\"

“No,” Hermione agreed breathily, “it wasn’t your pleasure; but it will be.”

She pulled away slightly, pulling her hands from his long hair and working at the buttons of his shirt.

He took her trembling hands in his and held them close. “We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to.” His silver eyes were grave and his tone was soothing.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. “I’m not ready for everything yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything else. I just… don’t know what to do.” Her voice was distressed.

He gathered her close once more and whispered soothing words as he held her. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow, and we won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Feeling braver at his words, she pulled away slightly, meeting his eyes as she once again began to work at the buttons on shirt. He watched her intently as she finished undoing the buttons and pushed it off his shoulders, her hands gliding over the smooth skin over his lean build. She lowered her mouth to his neck, placing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone while her hands explored. He moaned lowly at the sensation of her mouth and hands gliding over his upper body.

She sat up and pushed the straps of her thin summer dress off of her shoulders, reaching behind her to the zipper. He steadied her hand. “Let me,” he whispered huskily. His fingers drifted down her upper back to the zipper and deftly unzipped it. She held his gaze nervously as she stood and stepped out of the dress.

His eyes hungrily explored her body as it was exposed to him, from the firm breasts encased in white silk to the tiny waist and flared hips covered in tiny white knickers. He reached out slowly to pull her back into his lap. “Your beauty exceeds my wildest imagination, Hermione. You are absolutely perfect.” He dropped kisses onto her forehead, holding her as though he couldn’t believe the treasure he had been gifted with. His hands glided across the impossibly soft skin, marveling at the perfection of her body, and pausing atop the silk of her bra.

“Take it off,” she moaned helplessly, “I want to you to take everything off.”

His hands made quick work of the undergarments and laid her out gently on the sofa as he quickly set to work laving her dusky nipples with his tongue. Fondling the full breasts as he sucked the nipples, he catalogued her favorite areas and touches. His hands trailed slowly down her body, lightly stroking across the chestnut curls as her hips bucked towards him. Pleased with her response, he slid a finger across her folds, smiling at the hot, slippery texture that greeted him.

“Is this okay?” he asked gently with his finger circling her clit.

She whimpered and bucked her hips again, pleading for more. He slid a finger slowly into her slick entrance, lowering his tongue to lap gently at her. His silky hair spilled across her thighs and belly as he moved. She gasped and pressed into his face. At this he began to thrust gently with the finger inside her while licking at her most sensitive spot, relishing the sensuous taste of his witch. Soon her breathing became irregular and he sucked her clit into his mouth, teasing the swollen organ with his tongue as her body contracted rhythmically around his finger and she cried out, overwhelmed.

He sat up, gathering her trembling form in his arms. She buried her face in his neck and he chuckled lowly. “Not embarrassed are you? Because you are absolutely delicious,” he finished meaningfully. He was honestly feeling a bit overwhelmed himself. Overwhelmed by the depth of feeling he was finding for this tiny brunette witch that he had overlooked for so many years. He wanted nothing more than to bring her as much pleasure as possible for as long as she would let him.

She laughed softly and pulled herself up. “I’ve just never done that before. Any of this,” she said, gesturing to their bodies.

His eyes darkened with lust as she confirmed what he had dared to hope. Pushing his possessive instincts aside, he realized she may be unsure about what they had done. “Are you… regretting it?” he asked carefully.

“No!” she exclaimed, surprised. “I just mean, it’s all a bit new for me.” She leaned in for another kiss and moved her hands across his bare chest, tangling one in his hair. “I want you to show me what to do.\" She paused, looking unsure. \"What you like.” She had moved a hand to his waistband and was undoing his trousers, looking at him with yearning eyes.

He happily kicked off his shoes and pulled his socks off, standing with her so that she could remove his trousers. As she pulled them past his hips his erection sprang forward, tenting his shorts. He kicked the trousers off as Hermione watched wide-eyed, staring at his crotch.

He started to pull away, to tell her that she didn’t have to, but she waved his objections off dismissively and reached out a hand to rub at the cloth covered erection. As she circled the head, a damp patch appeared in the material. She hooked her fingers in the waistband and pushed the boxers off of his narrow hips, licking her lips as she saw him in his full glory. She may not have had much experience, but she knew the basics about the male anatomy, enough to know that Draco was a very big boy indeed. His entire body was glorious, all pale smooth skin and lean rippling muscle, covered with just the lightest, finest of hair in the appropriate places.

She pushed him back to the sofa and knelt before him. Tentatively stroking the heavy erection, she found that the texture was amazing, all silky skin over rock hard flesh, and the heat coming off of his crotch was impressive. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

The sight alone was almost enough to make him come. Hermione Granger, the prim little bookworm, on her knees in front of him, asking for a lesson in how to go down on a man.

She leaned forward and kissed up and down the shaft, darting her tongue out to lick at him. He groaned deeply in encouragement. “Just like that baby, keep using your tongue. Merlin, you feel amazing.” He tried to stay calm enough to remember that it would be bad form, not to mention terrifying to the young witch before him, for him to thrust wildly into her mouth. Instead he gently stroked her head, careful not to push her down and continued to mutter encouragement and guidance as she pleasured him. He picked up one of her hands and wrapped it around the base of his cock, holding it in his and stroking the section of his shaft she couldn’t take in yet. She picked it up quickly, pushing his hand away and resuming the motion on her own.

Hermione was surprised to find it easier than she expected. It was challenging to take in as much as she could, but once she found a rhythm, it felt fairly natural. Draco’s scent was intoxicating, heady and aroused, and she found that she enjoyed the salty, slighty musky taste as well, mainly because of the shivers it sent up her spine to realize that the fluid leaking from his shaft was evidence of his extreme arousal. It was simultaneously thrilling and dangerous feeling to know that she had brought him to this point.

It all felt amazing. Her mouth was hot and wet and her tongue darted around his shaft and head as she sucked, while her hand stroked him in time with her bobbing head. All too quickly he felt the beginnings of his orgasm and warned her, trying to pull her off. She met his molten silver stare with a determined gleam in her deep brown eyes and proceeded to suck on his throbbing erection with abandon.

The sight pushed him over the edge and his hips jerked involuntarily, riding out the crest of his orgasm as his release shot into her waiting mouth. She continued lapping at him until his twitching cock went still and then released it, sitting and swallowing obviously with a smug expression.

He watched her amazedly as she climbed back into his lap and snuggled up next to him. “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing her lightly on the forehead and willing his heart rate to return to normal.

“It was my pleasure” she whispered, before dropping off to sleep in his arms.

She woke several hours later, still curled up against him. She giggled, taking in the decidedly uncomfortable position she’d left him in, sitting straight up, arms wrapped around her form, head falling back over the sofa in slumber with his golden hair cascading over the edge. His mouth hung open slightly and a soft rhythmic snoring was filling the room. She gently kissed him awake, leading him drowsily to the bedroom where they fell into bed. She curled against him once more, deciding that she could get used to drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his strong arms, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat.




Please Read and Review! Thank you so much to everyone who has- the feedback is very helpful and I really appreciate it!