A Pound of Flesh

Author's Notes: I was inspired to write recently, and here are the fruits of my labor. I have lots written for later in the story; I'm just having slight issues with this section. Hopefully, I won't make you wait another two months for the next chapter.

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Chapter 5: A Slip of the Tongue

After a while, the dance floor grew more crowded until there was hardly room to move. Feeling quite hot and breathless, Hermione did not object when Draco tugged on her hand and led her away from the crowded dance floor. He spied an empty table in a dark corner, and he quickly claimed it for them.

“I’ll go get us some more drinks,” he told her.

She leaned back in the padded booth and sighed happily. Already, this was one of the better dates she’d ever been on. Except, it wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. It was research. She snorted, not quite able to make herself believe that. She was glad she’d come. She could hear Susan’s voice in her ear, crowing, “Take that, Ron Weasley!”

Indeed.

Draco came back to the table carrying two drinks, and he placed them on the table. “Budge up,” he said, and Hermione obligingly scooted over to make room for him. He slid in next to her, and his thigh brushed against hers.

Hermione took a long drink from her glass, and looked over at Draco, surprised. “A shandy?” she asked.

“That’s what you were drinking the other night, so I figured you probably liked them,” Draco replied, looking unsure. “You do, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” Hermione reassured him quickly. “I’m just surprised you remembered, is all.”

Draco just smirked in response to that, and for one uncanny moment, Hermione saw the boy from her school days sitting there with her. Then she blinked, and he was gone, replaced by someone with an easy, confident smile.

“How was your day?” he asked casually, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

“You don’t want to hear about it,” she replied. “I babysat for a friend and had a run-in with my ex.”

Draco’s smile grew wider for a moment, and then he schooled his featured into something that resembled sympathy. “I hate running into my exes,” he said knowingly.

Hermione looked up from her drink, surprised. Draco laughed at her expression of shock.

“Don’t look so startled, Jane. I’ve had a girlfriend or two since I started stripping. They generally don’t last long, though, for some reason.” Draco paused and his smile turned rueful.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect…” She trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

“What?” he asked with a laugh. “I may not remember who the fuck I am, but I am alive, after all.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t…” Hermione looked away, biting her lip.

“Anyway,” Draco said briskly. “So you were telling me about your day.” He shifted slightly, leaning closer as another loud song began to play. He placed his mouth against her ear and said over the music, “So you babysat and ran into your ex.”

Trying not to react to the pleasant tickle of Draco’s lips against her sensitive ear, she said, “Yeah, that was about it. And I sat around in my flat enjoying my air conditioning.”

Draco pulled back, then, blinking. “So, how did you run into your ex if you were babysitting in your air conditioned flat?”

“No, I was babysitting at my friend’s house.”

Draco looked confused. “So you ran into your ex at your friend’s house?”

“Yeah, he’s her brother.”

Now Draco’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I bet that’s… awkward,” he supplied, taking a quick sip from his drink, his attention never leaving her. It was oddly flattering, Hermione realized, to talk to someone who was really interested in the mundane details of her life.

“A little,” Hermione admitted. “He was living with her fiancé, but since they’re getting married, he moved back home.”

“So your ex is your friend’s brother and was living with your friend’s fiancé.”

“Yeah.”

“And your friend has a baby?”

Hermione nearly spit shandy out her nose, imagining Ginny as a mother. “No, no. I was babysitting for another one of her brothers, who is out of the country right now.”

Draco just shook his head. “Got it,” he said. “So, the run-in with your ex?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, leaning away slightly. “It wasn’t anything interesting. He’d heard from his sister that I might be seeing someone – ” Abruptly, she shut her mouth, then her eyes, and quickly looked away. Bugger, she thought.

When she opened her eyes, Draco was trying to hide his grin, and once again, Hermione was reminded of just who she was talking to. Quite clearly, she saw Draco sitting in Potions lessons, hiding his smile as Professor Snape berated Harry and Ron. It was unnerving.

“Are you seeing someone, Jane?” Draco asked, feigning innocence. He pulled it off far better than she would have expected.

“What about your day?” Hermione asked, abruptly changing the subject. “I want to hear all about it.”

“My day was the same old, same old. I want to hear more about your day,” Draco announced, scooting closer. His thigh pressed against her leg, and she could feel the soft fabric of his trousers against her leg, beneath the hem of her short skirt. “I want to hear more about this bloke you’re seeing.”

“Might be seeing,” Hermione corrected, feeling her face flushing.

“Might be seeing,” Draco conceded, his lips twisting into a pout for a moment. “So, what’s he like?”

“Dra – Damien,” Hermione protested helplessly.

“No, no, I want to know,” Draco said, his voice sounding serious, though his smirking face belied that seriousness. “Is it anyone I know?”

“Yes, and no,” Hermione answered honestly.

“Ooh, intriguing.”

Hermione didn’t respond, frantically searching her suddenly empty brain for a way to change the subject.

“So,” Draco prodded. “What’s he like?”

“Terribly arrogant and conceited,” Hermione blurted. “Confident and well-read. I’ve heard he’s a good dancer.”

“Is that so?” Draco said, frowning. “Arrogant and conceited, you say?”

“Though he hides it well.”

“Sounds like the perfect man for you.”

“Is that so?” Hermione countered. “Why is that?”

Draco’s leg bumped against hers under the table. She felt his foot brushing against her ankle and he leaned closer to her again, once more brushing his lips against her ear.

“Because, Jane,” he began, before ducking his head and lightly brushing his lips against her neck. Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. “You need someone to keep you on your toes.” He pushed her hair to the side and planted another feather-light kiss on her neck.

In spite of herself, Hermione tilted her head to the side, giving Draco better access to her neck. She heard him chuckle, and then he pulled back, leaving her feeling oddly wanting more.

After that, Draco seemed to take care to avoid topics that would make Hermione uncomfortable. Instead, he asked her about her job, a topic which Hermione had managed to avoid up to that point.

Looking him straight in the eye, she blatantly lied, “I’m a police officer with the MPS.”

Draco whistled appreciatively. “Beautiful, smart, and allowed to discharge a firearm at will.”

“Yeah, something like that,” she said blandly. She supposed a wand constituted as a firearm, to some extent.

“You’re sort of young to be a constable, though, aren’t you?” Draco asked, and Hermione made a mental note to research the Metropolitan Police Service more thoroughly the first chance that she got.

“Not really. Anyone over eighteen can apply. I joined right out of school.” This, at least, was true. As soon as she’d finished her N.E.W.T.s, she had joined the MLE squad, going through an intensive training program, all the while wondering what had possessed her to take that job, out of all the jobs that she’d been offered. It had just felt right.

“So you wear the uniform, and the hat, and everything?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“I do, but the only way you’ll be seeing it is if I’m arresting you,” Hermione told him with mock sternness.

Draco sighed. “Ah, well. There goes that fantasy.” He rubbed his foot gently against Hermione’s leg, before adding, “But maybe you could bring along your handcuffs next time we see each other.”

Gasping out a laugh, Hermione kicked his foot away. “I don’t think so,” she said saucily.

Shifting slightly, Draco pulled Hermione closer. His hand dropped down to her waist, and her hip, where he was tracing light circles with his fingers. They were practically spooning in the small booth, but with three drinks already in her, she couldn’t find it within herself to care much about that. She was too busy concentrating on not saying too much. It wouldn’t do to say something to trigger his memory before she got to the bottom of why he was still alive and who had put him at the club. Not that she could find it within herself to care much about that, right now, either.

As the conversation wound on, covering topics from schooling to childhood and beyond, Hermione found it remarkably easy to mostly tell the truth, while at the same time telling boldfaced lies. She told Draco she’d gone to a private school in Scotland for gifted students where she’d been the top of her class, that she wasn’t particularly close to her parents because they didn’t understand her lifestyle, and that her goal was to become head of her department in the MPS.

“You’ve already got your whole life figured out, don’t you?” Draco asked, sounding slightly envious.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hermione denied. “I’ve just got goals. Surely, you must have some goals of your own.”

Draco paused for a long moment, a small, tight smile on his face. “Start my own strip joint,” he said sarcastically.

“Seriously,” Hermione persisted.

He shook his head. “My main goal is to figure out who I was before I was Damien King,” he told her.

Oh.

“Don’t give up hope,” she told him, all the while knowing she could never let him attain that goal. “It may happen for you, yet. Personally, I like who you are now.”

He quirked his eyebrows and shrugged. “Thanks,” he said, inaudible over the music. Then he gave himself a little shake and tugged on her hand. “Come on,” he said.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, following him out of the booth.

“Dancing!” he exclaimed, pulling her over to the edge of the dance floor. He put his arms around her waist and drew her to him. He gave her a slow kiss that made her heart flutter wildly in her chest. Then he spun her away in time to the music, and they began to dance.

As it grew later, the crowd began to thin, but Hermione was still surprised when the barman announced last call. She tore herself away from Draco long enough to look at her watch.

“I’ll be damned,” she said. “When did it get so late?”

Draco chuckled throatily, his hand sliding up her thigh toward the hem of her skirt. “Time flies, doll.”

Suddenly exhausted, Hermione leaned her back against Draco’s chest, and he rested his chin on her head, wrapping his warms around her waist. They swayed a bit in time to the mid-tempo song, and then Draco ducked his head down, his lips brushing her ear once more.

“Jane,” he said in her ear, “would you like to come back to my place?”

Without hesitation, Hermione smiled up at him and said, “Yes, I would.”

***

Draco’s flat was a few blocks away, in a slightly quieter part of the neighborhood. Despite the heat, which lingered even well past midnight, Draco kept her close, one arm around her shoulders. Hermione rested her head against his shoulder, slipping one arm around his waist, and together they walked down the street as such.

They didn’t talk much until they reached his building, a four level brick building that looked like it had once been a factory of some sort. “It’s not much to look at on the outside,” Draco excused, leading her up to the main door. “But it really is much nicer inside.”

Hermione didn’t comment; instead, she calmly stepped inside, curious to see where Draco lived, and possibly find some sort of clue as to why he was the way he was now. As he led her up two flights of stairs, however, she asked, “How long have you lived here?”

“Since I can remember,” Draco answered.

“How did you manage it?” Hermione asked.

“After the doctors were through with me, I was given a little bit of an advance from the club, and the landlord here was sympathetic to my situation, and let me rent the place even though I had no history.”

Hermione made a mental note to check into the sympathetic landlord.

“It’s so strange that whoever that woman was decided to leave you high and dry at the strip club – ” Hermione began.

“Believe me, I know it’s strange,” Draco said, stopping in front of a worn wooden door. Hermione glanced down, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the worn and dirty carpet in the corridor. He unlocked the door and swung it open, gesturing for Hermione to go in first.

Pausing only a moment, feeling slightly wobbly in her shoes, Hermione crossed the threshold into the darkened flat. Draco reached across her and turned on a lamp beside the door, revealing a small but tidy flat.

Hermione didn’t know where to look first. Draco chuckled and gestured to the main room, saying, “Be my guest. Go ahead and have a look around.”

Smiling over her shoulder, Hermione took another step into the room, deciding her first destination would be the bookcase, which comprised an entire wall from floor to ceiling, and was filled with books and compact discs. She skimmed the book titles, seeing a slightly wider variety of genres than Draco kept at the club, and lightly traced a fingertip along their spines.

“How did you get this many books?” she asked, amazed. He’d amassed a huge collection in just three years.

“People gave them to me, mostly. Or, I bought a lot of them at a secondhand book shop a few streets over.” Draco followed her to the bookcase, looking very at home in the Muggle flat. “Maybe we can go together, sometime.”

Hermione smiled, thinking that would be lovely.

She skimmed his selection of music, surprised by his tastes. “A lot of those were donated, too,” he offered, pulling one plastic case from the shelves and walking toward a low cabinet, which when opened, revealed a radio and large television. “But I ended up liking most of them, so I kept them.”

As music began to play softly, Hermione turned away from the books and examined the rest of the room. She glanced out the bank of windows at the dark street below, noting the opulent green curtains that looked slightly out of place.

“Would you like something to drink?” Draco asked, heading for the kitchen.

“Nothing alcoholic,” Hermione said, following him into the small kitchen. Draco reached into the refrigerator, which was flanked by a gas stove and a small table with an herb garden taking up a chunk of the surface area.

“Soda alright?” he asked.

“Fine.”

Draco retrieved a drinking glass from one of the shelves over the sink and poured her a glass of clear, fizzy liquid, which she sipped absently as she examined the selection of pots and pans hanging over the stove.

“Do you like to cook?” she asked, curious.

“Some,” he answered, reaching up to rattle the pans. “It’s more like a necessity than anything. Obviously,” he laughed. He reached for her hand. “Come sit down,” he invited, leading her back to the main room.

Hermione sank into his couch, running a hand over the soft brown fabric. She sighed in relief. “My feet,” she explained.

“Take off your shoes and stay awhile,” Draco offered, reaching down to undo the zipper of her right boot. Without thinking, she lifted her foot, allowing him to slide it down and off. He took a moment to massage her foot in his hands, rubbing it firmly. Then he reached for her left boot, and she suddenly remembered her wand, stashed inside. She jerked her foot out of Draco’s hands, and he looked up at her quizzically.

“Let me get that one,” she blurted, leaning forward to undo the zipper. She carefully slid the boot off her foot, careful to conceal her wand within. She leaned back again and offered him her foot with a sheepish smile.

“Okay,” he drawled, shrugging. He took her foot, smiling slightly and shaking his head. He began to massage her foot and she leaned back, resting her head on the back of the couch and staring up at the shadows on his ceiling.

“You give good foot rubs,” she announced, sliding down slightly in the couch.

Draco smirked, the same familiar, self-satisfied smirk she associated with Draco Malfoy, so she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of his smooth hands working the muscles in her foot.

He lifted her foot slightly higher, and she heard him shift in his seat, and then she felt a feather-light kiss on the top of her foot. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, attempting to pull her foot back.

“What – ?” she asked, her voice high and thin.

“Shh,” he whispered soothingly, his hands sliding up and down her calf. As she watched, he lowered his head again, though he paused, his lips hovering just above her skin, and he looked up at her, his hair falling into his eyes. Then he planted a trail of barely there kisses from the end of her toes up to her ankle. The sensation was completely new to Hermione; Ron had avoided her feet, having something of a foot phobia.

“Wow,” she gasped as Draco returned to her toes, capturing the three smallest in his mouth. She laughed in amazement and felt her knickers growing moist. If she’d known this was what she was missing, she would have told Ron to get over his thing against feet.

Draco smiled smugly and rubbed her foot as he removed his mouth from her toes. He blew across the top of her foot, and his breath made her toes tingle.

“Just relax,” Draco told her.

Hermione didn’t think that would be possible, given what he was doing with her feet, but she let her head fall back again. She closed her eyes as Draco switched to her other foot, bringing it to his lips. Draco drew her toes into his mouth again, sucking gently and running his tongue into the sensitive spaces between her toes. She shivered as a thrill ran down her spine. It was all she could do to keep from moaning. She never would have guessed that having her toes sucked would get her so turned on.

Soon, she was positively aching for Draco, but he continued his patient ministrations on her feet, his hands running further up her legs with each suck and lick. She held her breath as his hand crept up her thigh. His tongue trailed up the inner side of her calf, and Hermione gasped out loud when he reached her knees. Pleasure like an electric shock jolted through her body. Draco paused at her knees, alternating between kissing and licking until Hermione was ready to go out of her mind.

She wasn’t going to beg for him to stop, though, even though she didn’t know how much more she would be able to withstand before she exploded.

Draco’s hand slipped up her thigh then, brushing at the edge of her short skirt. With his fingertips barely skimming her skin, he traced gradually widening circles on the sensitive flesh until at last, Hermione whimpered.

Draco made a muffled noise of agreement, the vibrations of it exquisite against her skin. He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, which Hermione spread willingly. Draco ran his hands up her thighs again, pushing her skirt up until it was at her hips. He hooked his fingers on the sides of her knickers and pulled. Hermione arched up to allow them to slide off easily, practically panting with desire. Draco deposited them on the floor before leaning forward. He paused, looking up at her face.

“Close your eyes, Jane,” he told her. Hermione obeyed at once, releasing a shuddering breath.

She felt the couch give as Draco shifted again, and his hands ran up the insides of her thighs before circling around to clench at her outer thighs. He repeated his motion until her skin was burning with his touch, and then she felt a puff of hot air between her legs. Anticipation and want so powerful she was trembling, Hermione arched her back up slightly, nearly desperate with desire. Draco’s hold on her hips tightened and then she felt the firm tip of his tongue sliding into the crease between her nether folds.

“Oh, god, yes,” Hermione exhaled, feeling a warm tingle shoot up her spine. Draco ran his tongue up her clit and Hermione shuddered with pleasure. Intensifying the pressure of his tongue, he repeated the motion several times. He ran his hands up her inner thighs again and deftly parted her folds. He swirled his tongue around her outer rim for a moment before he buried his face between her legs, driving his tongue into her.

Hermione cried out and thrust her hips up to meet him as he pulsed his tongue in and out. He wrapped his lips around the hypersensitive bundle of flesh at the top of her folds and sucked gently. She reached down and thrust her fingers into his hair, keeping him firmly in place. With a muffled chuckle, Draco buried his face into her once more. He darted his tongue inside of her again; the hot moistness of it was tantalizing.

Almost too soon, Hermione began to feel the cresting waves of pleasure growing within her abdomen. She thrust her hips against Draco’s face frantically, needing to release the aching desire. Draco’s fingers dug into her hips as he licked and sucked and lapped away. Hermione moaned noisily, and Draco responded by slipping his tongue into her again and swirling it around. Gasping incoherently, Hermione arched up, feeling herself teetering on the edge of a massive orgasm. White dots dancing in front of her eyes, she cried out, slamming her hips against Draco’s face as the spasms of her orgasm rocked her.

Draco rode the wave with her, never letting up in his efforts. Only when she collapsed back against the couch, gasping and panting for breath, did Draco raise his head. Through blurred vision, Hermione took in the sight of his swollen lips and his eyes glazed with desire.

Without a word, he stretched out on top of her, crushing her mouth beneath his. She tasted the slick saltiness of herself on his lips as he sought out her tongue with his own. His erection pressed against her stomach, and Hermione reached down to release it from the confines of his trousers. She deftly undid the button and pulled the zipper down.

Draco wrapped his arms around her and yanked her to sitting position, and he ran his hands down her sides, finding the bottom hem of her tight shirt. He broke their kiss long enough to pull it off over her head, and then he dove for her again. Their lips clashing together, they tumbled off the couch onto the plush white shag rug on the floor. Without missing a beat, Hermione undid the top two buttons on Draco’s shirt before tugging it up over his head.

Draco pushed her down onto her back again and fell onto her. His skin was hot against hers as he ducked his head and began to suck and nibble on her neck. Hermione brought her hands down between them and grabbed the waistband of his trousers, tugging them down. Draco paused long enough to assist her. His erection sprang against her stomach as his trousers and underwear joined the growing pile of clothing on the floor next to them.

“I need you, now,” he said breathlessly, clawing at her skirt which was bunched at her waist. He shoved it down and off, and then they were skin to skin. “Now,” Draco repeated, and with that, he thrust himself into her. He groaned loudly as he slid inside her. “So wet,” he moaned, throwing his head back.

Still recovering from her orgasm, Hermione felt the immediate stirrings of hot pleasure in her loins. She thrust her hips up against Draco as he moved within her. He moaned and lowered himself onto her again so their chests were pressed together. He stifled another groan in her neck, his thrusts already coming faster and more spasmodically. Draco rolled them onto their sides, and Hermione took the initiative to swing them over completely, so she was straddling him as he lay on the floor.

Draco’s hands, now free, reached up to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed against her tender nipples, and she shivered deliciously as she moved against him. He gazed at her through half-lidded eyes, his mouth curved up in a sultry smile.

As Hermione rocked over top of him, he thrust his hips up at her. His erection rubbed against her swollen nub of raw nerves, and she clawed at his shoulders, feeling her second orgasm coursing through her body. She cried out, her limbs going limp, and Draco quickly spun them around so that he was once more on top.

His thrusts were single-minded and determined now, powerfully shaking her body as he slammed his cock into her over and over again. He gasped raggedly, his movements becoming shaky and uncoordinated, and then he cried out, his fingers tightening on her shoulders as he came.

“Hermione,” he gasped.

At the sound of her name, she instantly tensed. Draco, still recovering from his orgasm, collapsed against her, his body shuddering. He didn’t appear to notice his slip, nor her reaction, and planted several quick kisses on her neck. “You’re amazing, Jane,” he murmured, a hand coming up to brush her hair off her forehead.

Hermione hummed noncommittally. Draco gave her a lingering kiss, and smiled wearily.

“Are you comfortable? Cold? Is the floor too hard?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione said. “A little hot, actually.”

“Do you want some water?”

“That would be great,” she told him, keeping her eyes closed. She couldn’t bear to look at his face right now, far too aware of just who he was at the moment. Research was one thing; shagging Draco Malfoy for the fun of it was something entirely different. It was time to quit messing around and get on with what she’d come to do.

With another quick kiss, Draco slid off of her, and sat up, looking spent and exhausted. “I’ll be right back,” he said, climbing to his feet. “You just stay where you are.”

As Draco headed for the kitchen, Hermione sat up and sought out her knickers, buried at the bottom of the pile of clothing. She pulled them, and her tight shirt, on. She was searching for her skirt when Draco returned. Still naked, he was carrying two bottles of water. He frowned slightly as she located her skirt and stood to pull it on. Without a word, he set the bottles of water on the table beside the sofa and silently dressed. Then he stood, looking unsure of himself as Hermione gathered her boots.

“Are you going?” he asked, his voice sounding tight.

“No,” Hermione answered, putting her boots on the floor next to the sofa. She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

Draco’s face lit with a slight smile and he obediently sat down.

“You look worn out,” Hermione said casually.

“Lots of physical activity lately,” Draco excused, giving her a coy look.

Hermione stretched her arm across the back of the couch and started to absently run her fingers through Draco’s hair. His eyes rolled back in appreciation.

“That feels incredible.”

“Does it?” Hermione asked absently. She shifted, turning sideways on the couch. She leaned closer to him and put her hands on his shoulders, turning him so his back was to her. She ran both of her hands into his hair, and carded it gently, massaging his scalp with her fingertips. Draco sighed happily.

Slowly, she eased back, bringing him with her, until she was leaning against the arm of the couch and his head was resting on her chest.

“Have I mentioned that feels incredible?” Draco breathed languidly.

“Might have.” Hermione disengaged her right hand and reached down, feeling for her boots. She located her wand in its holster and eased it out.

Draco was practically purring as she brought her wand up, out of his line of sight, and pointed it at him.

“Then again,” she whispered in his ear, “I’ve been told my massages are enough to Stupefy.”

The beam of light flashed from her wand, and Draco flinched for just a moment before going limp against her.

“Sorry, love,” she whispered, hurriedly slipping out from under him. “I need to do my job now.”