Nicest Thing

scarletwitchextreme - Lol thanks for your compliment but it really was my first time writing something remotely sensual. I had to picture it in my mind like a movie - had a soundtrack help as well - and I think it came out pretty good. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more in the future, but considering the themes in some of these stories...I'm not too sure when I will have the chance to do it. But anywho! Thank you so much!
================

A/N: This is quite a long chapter - longer than previous ones. I'm trying to write more per chapter so hopefully this flows pretty well.

Soundtrack:

Intimate Scene: Angus & Julia Stone - Just a Boy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEZ-m61dBKY

Morning After Scene: Kate Nash - Mouthwash: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UW6EP3-Q-DA


--------------

They fell into her cottage, stumbling over various items in Hermione’s living room. The fireplace lit up magically when they reached it, heating the room but Hermione was already hot. She felt Draco’s hands skim across the hem of her shirt and tug it up where she lifted her arms as he pulled it from her. He top fell with a wet thud on the ground. Hermione brought her hands to his shirt and pulled it off, ripping a few buttons in the process.

“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled but her voice was cut off when Draco covered her mouth with his.

Their hands fumbled around each other with her trying to pry his belt from him and him trying to untie the string that held her skirt firmly around her waste. They moved slowly to the couch, bumping into several pieces of furniture on the way, one in which Draco stubbed his toe. He let out a small howl but it was silenced when Hermione tugged his lips back to her.

She slipped from the puddle of water around them and fell but popped up a few seconds later. “I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, feeling Draco wrap his arms around her and laugh.

“Good.” He breathed into her mouth, lifting her around him as they fell onto her couch.

Hermione wrapped her legs on either side of him while her hands cupped his face. She was beginning to feel light headed from the ferocity of their kisses but could care less.

She felt Draco’s hands caress the sides of arms, tracing lower until they rested on her hips. Lifting her arms slightly, she was freed from her bra, which he tossed to the side. Her own hands traveled to his chiseled chest and felt it rise slowly under her touch. She let out a small moan and tilted her head back when his lips traveled down her throat, nipping at it with his teeth.

He leaned over, rolling Hermione with him. Letting out a grunt, Hermione’s head hit the arm of the couch. She felt Draco’s hand behind her head and opened her eyes to stare.

“Are you alright?” He breathed, his nostrils flared only slightly.

“Yeah. Fine.” Hermione answered, leaning up to capture his lips, raking her fingers through his hair.

Draco settled between her legs, pulling her thigh up to his waist and began grinding. The bulge of his pants soaked into her centre, rubbing against the bundle of nerves that caused shivers to crawl up her spine. Both parted their lips to take a breath at the same time, moving their hands simultaneously to each other’s bottoms. Draco pooled her skirt around her waist and lifted her with one hand firmly under her lower back and pulled it from her in an effortless move. Hermione, on the other hand, fumbled with the damn belt buckle – which Draco ended up removing. She peeled back his trousers and moaned when he wriggled out of them, inadvertently rubbing up against her.

She leaned up and pulled him to kiss her, their teeth nashing against one another while their hands roamed each other’s bodies. Draco tried to move to become more comfortable, with Hermione’s thighs planted firmly against his waist, but with one wrong squirm both fell. The floor, covered with a plush rug, broke their fall but Hermione only managed to let out a strangled laugh, followed by Draco’s own deep chuckle.

Leaning up, Hermione pushed Draco to his heels and stared at him as she traced a hand down his chest. Both of their chests were heaving but his moreso than hers. Draco grunted when Hermione’s hand traced alongside his growing bulge, hiding behind a pair of silky black boxers. She brought her hands to the elastic and quickly pulled them from him, with him falling onto his back.

Hermione was now towering over him, her own chocolate eyes staring into his beautiful cobalt gems. Strangled moans escaped her lips when she felt his hand cup and massage one of her breasts, his other hand tugged at her panties, pulling them down. Draco leaned up when Hermione leaned down, both bumping heads hard.

“Ow.” Draco breathed, rubbing his forehead before rubbing hers. She only smiled and captured his lips.

He rolled over, pulling Hermione with him so that she was on her back. Their shadows were illuminated by the flickering flames to which Hermione could only see the beauty that was Draco. His lips parted slightly, hair framing his face perfectly despite being wet. When he leaned down to kiss her, Hermione brought her hand to his waist, pulling him to her. A sweet, simple and chaste kiss was in order, but it didn’t last before turning into something heated and passionate.

She felt him lower himself over her and gasped as his length penetrated her centre, filling her completely. Draco positioned himself over her, his hands resting beside her shoulder while his hips dipped between her legs, and began thrusting inside her. He created a simple but effective pace, the tip of his manhood grazing a certain sweet spot no one but him could find. The sensations sent shivers up Hermione’s spine, causing her to arch her back up from the shaggy rug.

Draco’s lips found her shoulder as he slipped an arm around her waist and held her to him. Hermione ran her well manicured nails down the rippling muscles of his chest to which Draco responded by arching his hips upward. He felt so hot buried deep inside her, stretching her walls with the sheer girth of his length.

It was hard to explain the feelings of intense pleasure that she felt at that moment. Draco’s fingers curled about her hips as if he were possessive of her, thrusting heavily into her tight quim. Hermione found that both of their voices, gruff and panting, to over power the light pattering of rain outside.

“Draco,” Hermione moaned, arching upward forcing her chest to push against his.

“Mmmm.” Draco managed to huff out, tapping his hips into her heat with quick rough motions filling her to her hilt.

She tangled her hands into his hair when he lowered himself, resting up on his elbows and proceeded to quicken his pace. Catching the light shadow of his hips rising and falling between her legs, Hermione couldn’t contain a blush, let alone a powerful cry. Her walls contracted around his length, begging to milk every ounce of his seed from his body. Draco grunted several times and grasped onto the shag carpet before slamming into her thrice, his body releasing his thick seed. They laid there panting heavily neither of them moved before Draco slipped a hand between them, resting it lightly on her stomach before muttering a contraception charm.

-------

Hermione was on her stomach next to the hearth, which had a low glow of embers lighting the room, naked as the day she was birthed. She looked up, her head resting on her arms, when Draco re-entered her living room. The way the light in the room bounced from his chiseled body made butterflies flutter in her stomach. He looked like a dream come true, wearing nothing but his silky boxers carrying two wine glasses and a bottle of that expensive wine he bought.

“You know, we could’ve just dried our clothes with magic,” Hermione moaned quietly when Draco joined her on the floor, sitting with one leg up and the other folded underneath him.

Behind him a string hung from one end of her small kitchen to the other with their clothes drip drying on the line. Draco looked over his shoulder when he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the top of his knee dangling both wine glasses in his hand and shrugged.

“What part of ‘no magic’ did you not understand?” He laughed, pulling the cork from the wine bottle and filling their glasses, “You just want me to cave to prove a point.”

“I think that point flew out the door the moment you kissed me,” Hermione replied, moving to her knees when Draco handed her a glass.

“If I remember, you kissed me,” He grinned, bringing the glass to his lips to sip at it.

Hermione watched him swirl the contents in his glass, sniff it, and then take another sip. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and polish off what was in her glass. Draco let out a groan of impatience and snatched the glass from her before she even pulled it away from her mouth.

“You’re ruining it!” He said with half a laugh, glowering at her somewhat.

“It’s just wine, Draco.” Hermione replied with a faux pout, reaching for the glass he just refilled.

“No, you have to do it correctly. Savor the taste,” Draco explained, giving her another glass but with hesitation. “Swirl it to get the aroma,”

He swirled the contents in his glass, which Hermione replicated with her own glass. “Take a deep inhale.” He brought it to his nose and sniffed it a little, which Hermione copied. “And take a sip.” She mimicked him but merely rolled her eyes.

“It tastes the same,” She complained, watching Draco nearly spit his wine back into his cup.

“You, my friend, clearly have no taste in wines.” He noted staring at her with wide eyes as she just polished off another glass. “And here you think I’m the alcoholic.”

Hermione shrugged, “I never said I thought you were an alcoholic. I merely implied.”

Draco laughed, placing his glass to the side, and leaned over on his hands. His nose was inches from Hermione, who had put her glass on the floor beside his.

“Are you going to kiss me, Draco?” She breathed, feeling her heart quicken under his gaze.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Hermione?” He asked with a breath, leaning in mere centimeters from her.

“Maybe,” she replied, parting her lips just as his barely scraped against hers.

“I think…” He whispered as their eyes met sending mutual shivers up their spines, “I think…I need another drink.”

“WHAT!” Hermione laughed, swatting his arm when Draco leaned back to take another sip.

Draco grinned at her and finished his own glass before wrapping an arm around her and lowering her down onto her large soft carpet. He brought a hand to her face and brushed a soft tendril from her frame, tracing his finger along her collar bone as he peeled away the large throw she had covered herself with. Hermione gulped quietly when Draco’s eyes darted from her eyes to her lips. He smiled and leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers before parting his lips to deepen the kiss. Hermione ran her hand up his back and tilted her head to the side for a better angle. Her lips parted, their tongue seeking one another. It was soft, sensual, and perfect. He was perfect.

 

------------------

She groaned when the morning light filled her room once again, blinding her from her blissful night of sleep. Stretching under the warm covers of her bed spread, Hermione yawned and brought her hands to her face rubbing her eyes open. Her throat was a little parched and she had a mild headache from all the wine she had. There was a reason why she drank so little, she was, in essence, a light weight.

Her hand felt the space beside her. Empty. Looking to her right, she found no sleeping Draco or let alone any sign that he was there. Hermione let out a groan and sat up, rubbing her face with her hands against just in case she had been dreaming. Nope. Still missing. Either he had a habit of bailing after sex, or she had imagined the entire thing. Hermione frowned but didn’t bother getting up. Deciding that she wanted to fall back asleep she flopped back onto her bed and rolled to her stomach, burying her head into the pillow beside her. She could smell Draco’s bleeding scent on that pillow, indicating that it really wasn’t a dream but causing her to groan again.

She closed her eyes and grasped onto the edge of the pillow, seeking sleep. It never came. Bloody rotten bastard. Her mind scolded forcing her to get up and get on with her day. She glanced at herself in the mirror and let out an anguished howl, a small one, she looked horrible. Her hair stuck out on all ends, reminded her of the Bride of Frankenstein and she had several small love bite on her neck, even one on her wrist.

“Bloody vampire,” she spat finding a brush to tame her unruly hair. “Crooks?” She called out, half expecting her car to bound in any minute for breakfast.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad at me too,” she groaned when she heard nothing. Crooks wasn’t too fond of them messing up the living room the way they did, not to mention he probably skated around the wet floor from their clothing. He hated, absolutely loathed, water.

She grabbed her large dark brown robe and pulled it onto her bare skin, tying the sash as she made her way into the kitchen. Her eyes scanned the living room, which looked spotless as usual. Maybe she’d hire Malfoy to be her maid as he always had to clean up after himself. Probably didn’t want to show any signs that he had been there, her mind thought, after all she was a Mudblood.

When she rounded the corner, Hermione nearly tumbled down in front of her at the scene that unfolded. Crookshanks was sitting on the floor eating his Kitty Kibble in silence; instead of noisily crunching down on each piece because she had a feeling he knew it annoyed her. She noticed that he bottle brushed tail swung from one direction to another, much like a happy dog, and flicked upward after each third swing.

Her eyes traveled upward to the man who was sitting in her usual spot, his facing hidden behind a newspaper. Draco pulled the newspaper down and looked at Hermione, scanning her frumpy appearance but grinned when Hermione realized her state. Her hands instantly flew to her hair to attempt to pat it down, but it was no use. Screw it, she thought, lowering her hands and crossing it over her chest.

“Good morning,” Draco said cheerfully, causing Hermione to quirk an eyebrow.

He was definitely not a grumpy person in the morning, or he had taken to some hard core narcotics. She didn’t know, and she didn’t really care. Hermione was almost always a very grumpy person when she wakes. Attributing it to the lack of REM sleep, she always had to force herself to get ready for the day. It was very good that she woke up several hours before she left for work as it gave her time to collect her thoughts in the morning, do a little paper work, and make herself appear less homeless.

“Morning,” Hermione replied with a curt nod, taking a seat across from him.

She eyed Draco when he flipped the newspaper closed and folded it neatly. Her eyes scanned the table and noticed that he had apparently gone out and bought scones, croissants, and various other Muggle breakfast items. A small tea pot of what she expected to be tea, duh, was sitting beside a cup and next to cream and a few lemon wedges. Her stomach grumbled at the smell but she forced herself to hide it. It didn’t work.

“I didn’t know how to use half of your stuff,” Draco explained, bringing a cup to his lips, “So, I took the liberty of heading out into town.”

Hermione looked at him skeptically, “You didn’t…”

“No magic.” Draco quickly stated, lowering his cup onto the saucer, “I do believe I can manage without the use of magic. Although, you seriously need to consider buying a new car.”

“What did you do to it?” Hermione found herself growling, rising from the table to look out the window.

She sighed in relief when she saw her car parked in its same spot, without looking any worse for wear. Draco chuckled behind her and rustled his newspaper, causing Hermione to spin around and glare.

“That blasted thing died half way to the town,” he explained, leaning back in his seat, “I had to ‘will’ it to work.”

“I thought you said you didn’t use magic,” Hermione said smugly, sitting back down.

She watched Draco place a scone on a plate, followed by several pieces of fruit, and slide it to her. His eyes never left her though. They stared beautifully into her own, sparkling in the light of the kitchen.

“When I was in town. What else was I supposed to do?” He answered with a shrug, biting into a croissant.

“Oh,” she didn’t really know what to say but looked down at her plate and picked at a few items on her plate, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “So…” she chewed slowly, “How did you sleep?”

Could she ask something like that without it sounding weird? Hermione was very inexperienced in the art of the ‘mornings after.’ She couldn’t remember the last time some one, other than Ron and Harry, were in her apartment, let alone some one she had sexual liaisons with the night prior. Draco didn’t seem phased at all. In fact, he looked content with his position and why shouldn’t he? He just spent the evening shagging the former know-it-all Mudblood, who he loathed in their younger years. Maybe this was how it always was whenever he took girls home. She had read that Draco was quite talented in the area of seducing, she had first hand knowledge and so she couldn’t discount those rumors.

“You’re asking me how I slept?” Draco asked, breaking her thought with a grin, “Quite well actually. You sleep like a rock. I was half expecting to find my arse on the floor in the morning. And you? Do you always look like a troll just farted in your face?”

“You bastard,” Hermione growled, but she smiled when he did. Obviously his little insult of how she looked was in jest. He was still a jerk though. “I slept alright. Not used to having some one else, besides Crooks in bed with me.”

“I am.” Draco merely snorted into his cup, chuckling when she dropped her scone onto the plate in which it bounced into her cup. “Just teasing.” He was quick to add when her face grew stone cold.

“Some how, I highly doubt that,” she finished fishing her scone out of her cup and took a sip, tasting the sweetness of freshly brewed tea against her tongue buds.

Her eyes scanned the folded newspaper and she frowned at the corner edge of a photo. Reaching out for it, her hand was blocked by Draco’s. He grabbed onto the newspaper and pulled it from Hermione’s reach, holding it up.

“There’s nothing of interest in there,” Draco said, watching Hermione slowly rise from her seat.

“Mhm,” she replied suspiciously, “Then why are you hiding it?”

Hermione bolted for it just as Draco rose to his feet and held it out of reach. He grabbed onto Hermione’s waist when she crashed into him, pushing him back against the window.

“Give it here, Malfoy,” Hermione demanded trying to reach up and grab the newspaper.

Damn the gods for making him so bloody tall while she barely reached his shoulder. Draco kept the paper up in the air and laughed, worming his way from her.

“Like I said, Granger,” he teased, “There is nothing of interest printed.”

“You will give me that paper, Malfoy, or so help me….” Hermione wagged a finger at him as he backed into the kitchen.

“Or what? You’ll attack me with that mane of hair? I need Muggle clippers just to wade my way out of it.”

She let out a growl and jumped at him, causing both to fall to the ground. Draco let out a breath as his back slammed into the tile with Hermione straddling his waist. She pried the newspaper from him but didn’t move, even after Draco brought his hands to her bare thighs.

Her eyes widened when she pulled open the front page and nearly turned violent red. ‘ENEMIES TURNED LOVERS? Are war veteran Hermione Granger and former Death Eater Draco Malfoy more than acquaintances? Read Page 6 for the scoop.’ There was a moving photo of her in front of her cottage in a very compromising situation with Draco. He was leaning in kissing her roughly with her hands buried into his hair before they stumbled into her cottage and the door closed. It would replay over and over, but Hermione could only see red.

“Hermione,” Draco said quietly, still on the floor, as Hermione flipped to page 6 and read the article.

She growled after each sentence in the article and when her eyes settled on the author, she let out a loud cry and threw the newspaper at the ground, narrowly missing Draco’s head. Rita Skeeter.

“That good for nothing, pompous chit!” She said angrily, glaring down at Draco, “How could you say that that wasn’t anything of importance!? She’s slandering us!”

“Not really,” Draco replied coolly, running his hands up and down her thighs, “What she wrote obviously is out to make a few galleons. And besides what happened behind closed doors was what she printed just not in all the details. Like you'd dress up in your Hogwarts uniform for me..or would you?.”

“Don't be a prat, Draco.” Hermione gruffed angrily. "This is not what I want to see when I get up in the morning!"

“It’s all drabble Hermione,” Draco sat up, slowly moving Hermione from him, “I would know. I see photos of me plastered all over the Prophet weekly. One time she wrote that Pansy and I had eloped in Greece and were some how involved in some crazy sex magazine scheme. I hadn’t seen Pansy before Potter’s wedding and I sure as hell wouldn’t elope with her. Now, the sex magazine…”

Hermione was heated, her chest heaving, but she felt a little calmer when Draco brushed her hair from her face and patted the center of her back. She looked at Draco from beneath her eyelashes and couldn’t help but grin at his words. Maybe she was over reacting but she had been through this countless times and for once, she wanted something to be kept hidden.

“Now, can I get up? Or do you want me to stay on the floor all day?” Draco asked, physically moving Hermione from him.

He pulled her to her feet, and tied the sash that had come undone tightly around her waist. Hermione was staring holes into his chest, fuming over the paper. She knew she was going to get some owls from the Weasleys, maybe on from Ron. Draco and Ron were still enemies, for the better lack of terminology. While Harry seemed to mend his hatred for the Slytherin, Ron was adamant on not allowing the git anywhere near them or their family. He didn’t care if Draco changed sides because he would always be a blood purist.

“Granger,” Draco repeated for the twentieth time, having used her first name the first dozen but when she didn’t answer he reverted to the typical last name.

Hermione looked up at him and nearly gasped when his mouth descended on hers. His hand tilted her chin up at just the right angle for his tongue to trace her bottom lip. She could taste the sweetness of tea in his mouth and moaned into the kiss. Moving forward, Draco slowly pushed Hermione against the table, nearly knocking over the items on the table. She inhaled when she felt his hands part her robe and slowly trace up her milky thighs, feeling the silkiness of her skin.

“Draco…” Hermione breathed against their heated kiss, her hands moving to his chest. She wasn’t sure if she was telling him to stop of continue as her mind was clouded by the large bulging erection he sported against her stomach.

“Draco…” She said more firmly, pushing him back a little. Draco stared at her with a small look of frustration, his lips glistening from their kiss and just a slight tinge of pink. “I have neighbors who garden in the mornings…”

“Ah,” Draco nodded looking around the room. He moved quickly and pulled Hermione over his shoulder, lifting her as if she were nothing, yet Hermione let out a loud squeak.

“What are you doing!” She half laughed as he carried her back into her bedroom, his hand resting lightly on her bum.

“Taking you to bed,” Draco replied as he kicked her bedroom door close, keeping Crookshanks outside, “Wouldn’t want your old wrinkled neighbors watching me shag you into oblivion. Now would I?”

“You might…”Hermione’s voice was muffled through the door but she let out a loud clear laugh, which followed by several sounds of a squeaking mattress.

“You saucy minx.” Draco’s voice echoed, followed by the pair’s laughter.