Obscurity

Required Disclaimer: Obviously I am not the WB or JK. This story is not meant to infringe on the rights or offend any scary corporations and lawyers that could sue my pants off. These characters belong to their creator, I am only borrowing them for a short while, and most likely putting them in positions and situations that would make JK frown. On with the story then...

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Potions, as expected, was a nightmare. Hermione was running on next to no sleep. She had been up with Malfoy half the night and then had laid awake thinking about him. She was turning into one of those girly girls who mooned over a guy instead of her grades. She shot Malfoy an evil look from across the room. It was entirely his fault. He didn’t deign to notice, as usual.

She, Neveille, and Harry were the lone Gryffindors in a sea of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. As anticipated Snape honed in on them to pick on. Sneering hatefully, snapping up points like some kind of giant bat hunting mice. Midway through the class he had poor Neveille so shaky that he spilled a beacon of rats’ blood all over her robes. Hermione had whipped off her robes, a sound of disgust escaping her lips before she could still it, and then winced when Snape took notice of their table, yet again.

When it was all said and done he had deducted more points from Gryffindor, made a scathing remark about her jeans, and blamed the whole incident on Harry.

The day did not get better. She didn’t have time to go get clean robes before Transfiguration. McGonagall made a big deal out of the dress code and she had to leave class to run to her room to get a fresh set of Hogwarts robes. By the time she got back everyone had partnered up to review last years spells and she got landed with Parkinson. She had the transfiguration skills of a concussed mountain troll. Hermione felt obligated to try and help her do the spells properly and got her nose snapped off for her trouble. Honestly.

Then, instead of even trying to learn, the cow spent the entire double period making calf eyes at Draco.

Arithmancy was the absolute worst. None of her close friends took it. It was just her, four Ravenclaws, and one Draco Malfoy. Whom Sinatra paired with her. He sprawled bonelessly in his chair, one arm thrown casually over the back of her seat, his lower body lined up close to hers. Every time he moved he brushed up against her. They were in the back of the class and Hermione was certain that one of the students would turn around and spy them so close. But they were all bent over their tables diligently taking notes, as was she. Draco never bothered to take notes. It was one of the things that irked her about him. Sinatra wasn’t blind however; he kept looking at them sideways. When class ended Malfoy had glided out the door before the other students had finished gathering their things. Easy for him since he hadn’t bothered to bring anything to class.

And to top everything, she stubbed her toe stomping her way up a million stairs to Gryffindor tower. Stupid Slytherin, her studies were important, where did he get off distracting her like that? And why did he have to smell so good? Life wasn’t fair. She was turned into a puddle of goo by a warm masculine scent. She didn’t even squeak when he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a classroom, even though she hadn’t heard him coming. That’s how familiar his touch was becoming.

“You know Malfoy if you ever bothered to take notes in class you might get better marks.”

“My marks are excellent.” He replied dismissively, closing the door and shutting them in.

“But they could be better.”

He didn’t reply instead he advanced on her, a predatory quality to his stride, and Hermione was suddenly nervous, backing up a couple of steps.

His hand shot out, a blur of motion, and the clasp of her robes was quickly undone and they slid to a puddle on the floor. Hermione was so shocked that she just stood there staring.

“I don’t like this outfit you have on.”

Hermione tamped down on her flare of anger. She was always so quick to get irritated around him. “There is nothing wrong with jeans. I like jeans. I’m a muggle and this is what muggles wear.”

“I wanted to rip Zambini’s eyes out in potions. I wanted to tear his off his head and boil it in acid.” Hermione gaped like a fish and let out a little peep when he grasped her hips with both hands. “He was staring at you like you were a piece of honeydukes chocolates, like he wanted to eat you alive. And he wasn’t the only one. I thought Snape was going to have a heart attack. They were all looking at you.”

“What’s wrong with looking?” Hermione asked breathlessly, shocked by his ferocity. His lips came down on hers, harsh, a desperate edge to his nips and caresses. He molded his body to hers and slipped both hands boldly up under her loose top, his pelvis grinding into hers. He raised his head, his eyes a raging sea of grey and silver. He looked like an avenging angel, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones, his expression naked with need.

“You remind me of Harry sometimes.”

He abruptly pushed her away from him and walked to the window. “Don’t compare me to your boyfriend Granger. Don’t use him to make this lighter on your conscience.”

What?

“Malfoy! Harry is not my boyfriend! Just what kind of girl do you think I am! Do you think I would let you touch me and kiss me like this if I had a boyfriend?” She demanded, storming towards him.

He turned then, reaching her in just two short strides. In seconds he was in her personal space, pulling her body into contact with his. Her senses went haywire, shakiness and desire settling in the pit of her stomach in a way that was becoming disturbingly familiar. “Why do you let me touch you? Why do you let me kiss you?”

Because you set my senses on fire. Because I think about it in the dark. Because I crave your touch like a recovering drug addict. Because my heart beats faster just at the sight of you. Because the sound of your voice makes me wet. Because you listen to me and don’t brush me off. Because conversation with you is fascinating. Because I miss you with a terrible ache when your not here. Because I shouldn’t want this. Because you know me better than anyone else.

“I don’t know.”

He lifted her under her arms and sat her on the wide window ledge. She felt a surge of excitement when he pushed in between her thighs and ran his hands down the sides of her body. They were on the fourteenth floor, but Quidditch practice raged in the pitch just thirty feet away. If anyone looked over they would see them. It was strangely exciting and exhilarating knowing that they could be being watched. He bent his head and kissed her collarbone, her pulse, her jaw line. She sat there, hands fisted in his robes, trembling beneath his touch.

It was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Harry wouldn’t be flying. Oh Lord, he pulled her pulse between his teeth, soothed the bite mark with the flat of his tongue. “Did you think about me last night, all wrapped up in silk sheets?” He whispered, his voice descending into that decadent husky tone that was reserved just for her. “That was the finest silk I could buy, but it’s not half as soft as your skin.”

His tongue moved over her neck, across the soft skin beneath her ear, and he pulled the lobe into his mouth. She made a helpless little sound and fumbled for the clasp of his robes, pulling it open and off in one fluid motion. His chest was bare underneath, and she luxuriated in the texture of his skin, the ripple of powerful muscles under her hands. “Did you? Think about me?”

“Yes.” She whispered, a quiver in her voice, praying he left it there. His back was gloriously silky and toned, and he drew his breath in raggedly when she swept her hands firmly down to his tapered waist and rested them just above the short wizard pants that hung loosely on his frame.

“Did you touch yourself?”

Hermione groaned in embarrassment, feeling herself blush. He gave her no pause, drawing her tee up over her head and tossing it carelessly behind him. His hands were almost large enough to circle her waist completely. He ran his thumbs in a wide caress, just brushing the underside of her pale pink bra. “Did you?”

“Yes.” Hermione bit out, blushing furiously, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. It was the only way she knew to shut him up. His lips were firm, gentler than before. He pushed himself closer to her, settling firmly in the vee of her thighs, and rotating his hips in a slow circle.

Her bra joined her shirt on the floor behind him.

“How was it?” He whispered huskily, boldly placing both hands on her bare breasts; His hands were large and warm, but far from soothing. He kissed her again, gentle nips and caresses, before he bent his head to her neck. His hands massaged and kneaded her breasts before he flicked his thumbs over her aching nipples, causing her to jerk in response. He lifted his head again, depriving her of his touch. “Well?”

“It wasn’t as good.” She whispered back, afraid to shatter the heavy silence of the room, broken only by their heavy pants and soft spoken words. She leaned back further, pressing her bare back against the cold window, pulling him along with her.

“As good as what?”

“As when you touch me.”

He was kissing her then, touching her. His hands burning like fire against her chilled skin. Shuddering and gasping when she touched him back. When his hands moved to her thighs, she trembled and let out a low throaty sound that could only be classified as a moan. “You should wear silk and lace. You’re skin is too delicate for this rough material.”

The silence was shattered by a large bang. Hermione jumped in her skin and twisted her head to look behind her at the Bludger that had just crashed the side of the building before zooming off. It had only hit inches from the window. In a heartbeat Malfoy had her away from the window and shielded by his body as the players whizzed by the window.

Had anyone seen her?

She was half naked in the arms of one Draco Malfoy. What would Harry say? She gathered up her things off the floor, not quite looking at him and he just stood there, making no effort to dress. She slipped into her robes, a flurry of movement. She wished he wasn’t staring at her.

Finally decent as one could be without wearing a bra, she looked up at him. He ghosted into her space, still bare from the waist up. He reached out and straitened her robes, adjusting the collar.

“Just what are we doing Malfoy?” She asked him, a tremble in her voice. He looked down at her, a blank expression on his face.

“You aren’t going to have a big emotional moment are you?”

“Malfoy, this is serious. I don’t understand how we got to this place?” She let out a frustrated sound and turned around so she wouldn’t have to look into his carefully blank, beautiful eyes. “I mean, no one would understand. I don’t even understand. If this got out…” But she didn’t get to finish because he had grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.

She had a slow motion moment where she saw his lips descending and did nothing, before he was kissing her again. Nipping and tugging at her lips with his teeth, his grip on her arms almost bruising. She found herself pressed roughly against the wall, his body firm against hers. He bent his head and kissed her neck, soft sucking kisses that had her trembling and breathless in less then a minute. When he pulled back abruptly she nearly fell with the lack of support, stumbling a couple of steps before she managed to find her equilibrium.

“I haven’t coerced you into anything. You melt into my touch like butter.”

He was gone in a heartbeat, leaving his robes piled up on the floor where she had left them. She raised her hand to her trembling lips and sighed. She was so confused. And he was volatile, his mood and touch swinging the spectrum in seconds. She was in way over her head and really didn’t know what to do about it.

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Oh wow, I’ve had such an awesome response to this story. I really appreciate all the recs I’m getting. It’s so flattering.

Lots of pieces of this chapter were written separately, just things that came to me and I jotted down. I tried to make it flow together seamlessly but you’ll have to let me know if it seems kind of sketchy.

The part where Malfoy moves Granger out of the window is supposed to come off like he is shielding her partial nudity. Not like he is wigged out because they might be seen. If it does seem that way let me know and I’ll change it.

This chappie was mostly just filler, emotional and physical stuff, but not a lot of plot. I promise that our bad boy isn’t going soft, on any one but Hermione. And there is going to be some more death eater stuff and adventure. The big plot pieces are already written, either on paper or in my head, including when everyone finds out about our couple. I can’t tell you anymore without spoiling it.

And lastly, I’m American. I’m writing the story in the setting that JK put it in and I’m stumbling along with slang, culture and logistics. I appreciate everyone’s help sorting it out with me and I hope I haven’t offended anyone. All of your constructive criticism is helping me to become a better writer and I’ve re-read my reviews many times.

Rain