Tin Angel

A/N: Shorter than most of the others, but hopefully sweet. Please review, please review!

Post Hogwarts: A chance encounter with Hermione Granger in a Muggle café leaves Draco Malfoy aching for more. D/Hr with mentions of BW/Hr, H/G, and R/L. Disregards the events of HBP.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I would be in Morocco right now, lovely and warm with some delicious Draco-like man in my bed waiting patiently for me to finish the next chapter. Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter, and my sort-of boyfriend is across town asleep, while I plug away here and curse the fact that, even though it is August, it is already getting chilly at night.

Tin Angel


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A long line of mashrabiya windows ran along the western length of the hotel room, and the golden light of the setting North African sun passed through them, casting tiny, glowing geometric patterns over the smooth, tiled floor. Draco paced back and forth along the line of windows, running his fingers along the intricately carved wood of the window casings as he passed. The soft slap, slap of his bare feet on the cool tiles soothed the edgy nerves that had built in his stomach after several hours of waiting.

He bloody hated waiting.

He wanted to throttle those Weasley’s, and shake Hermione until she knew for certain that he wanted her, that some sick game was the furthest thing from his mind.

Draco’s pacing slowed for a moment, as he ran his hands wearily through his hair and rubbed away the light sheen of perspiration the hot humid air had left on his brow. Gods, he thought sullenly, what power did this woman have over him to reduce him to such a besotted swain?

Sunday, after Apparating straight from Hermione’s flat to his own, he’d paced angrily around his sitting room, debating with himself, and desperately trying to suppress the urge to grab the closest thing in arms reach and smash it against the nearest wall.

Did she not have even a trace of trust for him? The last few weeks, the heat of their conversations, the shuddering desire when they kissed or touched, the sudden feeling that every moment not spent with her was in anticipation of their next meeting; did she really not feel any of this? Was it so easy to toss it away at a few venomous remarks from that inexorable Weasley clan?

After nearly an hour of angry pacing, and a bout of weakness when he’d snatched up a particularly offending porcelain vase and sent it sailing towards an obliging wall where it had shattered with a satisfying crash, Draco had poured himself a stiff drink, bathed, poured himself another drink, then Apparated to his office. He’d sent off a flurry of owls, and left his secretary a detailed list of appointments to cancel or reschedule. From the office, he’d gone directly to the International Portkey office and purchased the next available Portkey to Marrakech for the following morning.

It had been a fairly sleepless night, spent tossing and turning and having strange snippets of dreams that left him bathed in sweat and tangled in the bed sheets. In the morning, he’d plied himself with a few cups of strong coffee and went to wait at the Portkey office.

At last in Marrakech, he’d checked into his hotel, and then spent several hours tracking down Granger, the exchange of a few spare banknotes expediting the flow of information. Draco had located her hotel by early afternoon, and with the exchange of a few more bills, had proceeded immediately up to her room, determined to confront her if she was in, or wait as long as need be if she was out.

He’d been here now for nearly four hours awaiting her return.

It was a beautiful suite of rooms, Draco mused, as he resumed his pacing. The walls were lined with intricate glass mosaics, and all of the furniture was covered in richly embroidered cushions and linens. The western wall of mashrabiya windows faced the street and he’d peeked into the bedroom to find a private balcony that opened out to the hotel’s lush inner courtyard. It was fairly hot, but that was to be expected here, and with the warm breeze from the windows and the cool tile underfoot, one really couldn’t complain. It was a far cry from the usual fare of bland five-star, English-styled décor that was booked for him whenever he traveled. Perhaps he’d send his own secretary out for a few pointers from Hermione’s people.

Merlin, he hardly knew what he would say to her when at last she did arrive.

Draco had paced for another half an hour, watching the patterns of lights creep further along the cool tiled floor, when he heard footsteps approach the door and a then a key in the lock. He froze in his tracks, body tense, not daring to breathe as he stared intently at the door.

Hermione slipped through the doorway without looking up, turning immediately to a low table near the door to drop her bag and inspect the mail that had been left there for her. She wore a long gauzy white caftan over trousers, and a scarf had been carefully tied around her hair and knotted at the base of her hairline, leaving only the delicate features of her face and the slim curve of her neck exposed to his vision. She was so lovely, and he felt a wave of desire join the jumble of anxiety, frustration and affection roiling about in his stomach.

Tossing the mail back on the low table, Hermione at last looked up, jumping slightly as she caught sight of him, her hand darting up to press against the left side of her chest, lips parting in surprise.

“Malfoy… I-…” she began, then stopped, eyes still wide and lips opening and closing as she seemed to scramble for something to say.

“You wanted some space to think.” Draco said quietly, slipping his fists in his pockets to hide their nervous clenching, “I know. I’m sorry.”

They stood there in silence, neither moving, and watching each other anxiously.

“I-…” Draco began again, “Gods, Granger, one bloody day was wretched enough, did you really expect me to wait an entire week while you thought?

“I don’t know,” she said softly, pausing a moment to chew her bottom lip, “I mean, no, really… it wasn’t really right of me to just run off like that. I suppose. They’re just-, it’s just that they’re my family, and they think I should give this some serious con-”

“I don’t care what they think!” Draco spat angrily, running his hands through his hair again in frustration, before crossing the room in several long, quick strides to stand just in front of her. “Granger, I know you feel this thing I’m feeling. We both feel it.”

“They’re worried for me,” she sighed, reaching up unconsciously to rub at a few small beads of perspiration that were collecting near her clavicle. Draco repressed the urge to lean in and lick the moisture from her skin. She worried her bottom lip a bit more, dark eyes flitting back and forth from his eyes to the floor. “After everything with Bill, and the history between all of us and you as kids-; they’re just trying to look out for me.”

“They should trust your judgment,” he said quietly, reaching out to stroke her arm through the thin fabric of her shirt, and he was pleased when, despite the thick heat in the air, she shivered a bit under his touch, “if you feel this is a good thing, that should be enough for them.”

“I know, Malfoy,” she murmured, looking down again, “but-”

“You are the one who knows me,” he interrupted, pressing closer to her, “Not them. What are your instincts telling you? They aren’t telling you to run from me, are they? They tell your heart to speed up… they urge you to lean into me… to press your skin against mine… ‘my dove… that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs… let me see thy countenance… let me hear thy voice.’ ”

Hermione was shivering all over now; tiny shivers just visible around her shoulders and arms and jaw. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed to be having trouble raising her eyes to meet his.

“… that we can feedeth among the lilies… ” she whispered, a question in her voice.

“ ’Until day breaks and the shadows flee away.’ ” he reassured quietly. “Trust me.” he whispered, bending closer and not quite grazing his cheek against hers.

“I’m frightened to.” she breathed softly.

Draco ghosted his hand up along the line of her body, up her shoulder and past her neck, to the knot of the scarf at the back of her head. With deft fingers he loosened the knot, tugging away the scarf so that her wild glossy curls sprang out from their binding. He twined one about his finger, caressing the dark strand before releasing it and burying both hands in the mass of her curls, tilting her face up towards his. “Trust me.” he murmured, his breathe little puffs against her lips. “Hermione, trust me.”

He felt a trembling pass up through her body, then saw her eyelids flutter shut a moment before he felt the soft warm press of her lips against his own.

The sense of relief that washed over him was quickly overcome by a flood of desire as the sensations of her gentle kisses and the heat of her body radiating from within her clothes began to ebb away at any coherent thought left in his mind. He felt himself deepening the soft kisses into a languorous and heated exploration of her mouth, his arms winding themselves against her body, pressing her tightly against him. Her arms reached up to slip around his neck, and he nearly groaned into her mouth as he felt her begin to undulate ever so slightly against him.

Fumbling to clutch her more tightly, Draco lifted his foot to kick lightly at the low table by the door, shoving it further down the wall, then pushed Hermione back against the wall, pressing himself into her and running his hands up and down the sides of her body. He found the hem of her shirt and his fingers slipped underneath it, skimming along the small of her back, her soft skin damp with perspiration.

He pressed kisses to her temples, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, before ducking down to lave and suck at her jaw and neck, sighing against her skin when her lips found the shell of his ear.

Draco’s hand had just moved up her waist to tease at her breast through her clothes when he felt her fingers move along his chest to begin fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He gritted his teeth at the sudden pulsing ache in his groin, and forced himself to pull away from her just enough to search her eyes. Finding a flash of clarity and determination in their depths, he pressed his damp forehead against hers for a moment before leaning down and kissing her deeply.

With trembling fingers they worked at buttons and zips, clumsily tugging away clothing until they were both bare and flushed and pressed heatedly against each other. Draco was nearly panting with desire at the feel of the hard tips of her breasts pressed against his chest, and he pushed his thigh between her legs so he could feel the moist heat of her sex against his skin. Hermione began making little whimpering noises as he rubbed his leg against her tender flesh, and she shifted her weight so she could hitch one of her legs up over his hip, using the leverage she gained to try to shift the contact from his leg to his groin.

Draco breathed deeply against her neck, rubbing the soft underside of her leg before obliging her by shifting one hand down to support her bum and using the other to guide her other leg up to hook over his hip. She locked her arms behind his neck and rocked into him, and he could not stop his body from shuddering at the first touch of the slick lips of her pussy against his straining erection.

“Oh,” she moaned breathily against his lips, “…yes… please.”

Draco found her lips, kissing her once, deep and slow, before shifting his hips and slowly pressing himself into her tight, wet heat. He moved slowly at first, slipping gently in and out of her, relishing the sound of her soft moans and the feel of finally being inside her, but Hermione began squirming more desperately against him, and he sound found himself thrusting heatedly into her as she bucked her hips into his.

When a slight burn began to tingle in his thighs, and he could feel himself creeping closer to orgasm, Draco slowed his motions, grasping Hermione tightly to him before slowly, carefully, sliding them down along the wall to the cool tiles of the floor. He laid himself back against them, pulling her to sit astride him and sink her slick heat back onto his rigid length.

He moved his hands to her hips, helping her to ease into a gentle rhythm as she slowly began to work her self onto the aching flesh of his cock. Geometric patterns of light danced over her body, and as she moved over him, head thrown back, skin glistening with perspiration and flickering light, Draco was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Draco propped himself up on one elbow, to take one of her pink-tipped breasts into his mouth, rolling its hard bud with his tongue and teeth. She hissed at the sensation and the pace of her thrusts against him quickened. Draco lay back again against the floor, his hands moving again to her hips, watching her breasts bounce as she rode him faster.

Soon she cried out, and he felt the fluttering spasms of her orgasm around his cock. He pulled her gently to him, pressing nuzzling kisses to her nose and forehead, then gently rolled her onto her back, and began thrusting into her in earnest. Soon he was lost in her heat, her caresses, the soft peaceful look on her face and he came hard, his forehead pressed to hers as he spasmed his release into her.

They collapsed there on the floor in sweaty tangle of limbs, each making weary grasps to draw the other closer, and Draco found his head pressed against her chest, listening to racing thud of her heartbeat and savoring the feel of her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the skin of his back and arms.

When their breathing had calmed, Draco gathered her pliant body to him, and carried her to the large bed in the next room. He deposited her gently on the cool cotton sheets then crawled up next to her, covering her body with his, and reveling in the feel of her damp skin. He began pressing kisses to her face, her neck, the soft skin on the inside of her arm, and every part of her, whispering of pomegranates and saffron, honey and threads of scarlet, as he paid reverence to every inch of her body.

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Author’s notes:

Apologies for the long wait between chapters. Life and such. Hope you like. Please review.

* ‘my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock…’ and references at the end to pomegranates and saffron, honey and threads of scarlet are all quotes and references to the Song of Solomon