Catalyst

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the characters of this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. I don’t own or profit from any of it.


“Dammit, Harry, how many times do I have to tell you, that’s my SISTER!” Ron slammed his fist down on the table, roaring at his friend, who was currently entwined with the youngest Weasley. Hermione had been tuning out the conversation of the last few minutes, and had apparently missed whatever innuendo-laced remark had finally sent Ron over the edge.

“Ron, you moron, we’re married,” she hissed at him, her eyes flashing defiantly. “Even if you had any sort of authority over me, which you never have,” she added pointedly, “you can’t object anymore, because now I’m his wife,” she finished, turning to gaze fondly at Harry, who was standing wrapped around her from behind.

The moment she turned back to Ron, her expression grew fierce again, daring him to argue. Harry meanwhile, smirked at him over her head, his green eyes sparkling with mischief as he intentionally pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck.

“He’s doing it on purpose,” Ron howled in frustration.

Ginny and Hermione regarded him with identical expressions of skepticism.

“Doing what on purpose Ronald?” Hermione inquired with what she considered to be an excess of patience.

It had become a virtual tradition. Harry had long since ceased to fear his best friend’s reaction to his relationship with Ginny- he supposed marriage had a way of easing those fears. Despite the fact that Ron had no choice but to accept it in principle, he was still obviously uneasy at the physical evidence of their relationship between his friend and his baby sister, a fact that Harry exploited at every possible opportunity. As the evening had involved no small amount of firewhiskey, his belligerence was especially potent this evening. Rather than listening to the angry sputtering of the redheaded man, Hermione grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her away, leaving the two men standing at the table.

“We’ll just let the two alpha males work it out for themselves, shall we?” she giggled as they headed towards the dartboard in the corner of the trendy pub.

“Speaking of alpha males…” Ginny gave her an inquisitive look.

Hermione laughed softly. “Yes?”

“How is dear old Malfoy?”

“He’s quite well. At least he was last time I saw him. He’s out of town for a few days; left yesterday morning.”

Ginny’s head whipped around, relaxing the arm she’d had cocked and ready to throw the dart. “Yesterday morning?”

Hermione blushed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but nothing happened.” She smiled for a moment. “Well, not nothing, but not what you’re thinking.” She picked up a dart, preparing to toss it. “He slept on the couch. With the cat.”

“Too bad.”

Hermione snorted with laughter at that.

“I’m serious Hermione. You can bet that if Draco Malfoy were my white knight, he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch,” she expounded, finishing in a singsong voice.

“Ginny!” Hermione looked scandalized. “You’re married. To Harry!”

Ginny shrugged unrepentantly. “I meant if I were in your position,” she clarified, as if it should have been obvious. “Harry is more than enough for me,” she finished with a satisfied smile.

Hermione refrained from comment. She’d heard more than enough about Harry’s legendary abilities in the sack over the years from her friend.

“Anyways,” Ginny turned to her, waving a dart for emphasis, “the point is that I don’t understand what the hold up is. Go for the gold Hermione,” she finished as she tossed the dart, nailing a bull’s eye and nodding her approval.

Hermione looked skeptical. “Somehow I don’t think that’s how that phrase was intended to be used,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. It was just as well as Ginny ignored her, turning to the bar to secure drinks for both of them. She turned back, pushing a suspiciously pinkish beverage towards Hermione.

Hermione sipped at it tentatively, wary of the garish colored liquid, but finding it to be quite good, if a little sweet.

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and stiffened instinctively before looking up into familiar blue eyes.

“Who’s going for the gold?” he asked innocently, evidently over his fit of rage at his best friend and brother-in-law.

“Well,” began Ginny, shooting Hermione a stern glance, “not Hermione. That would be the problem.” She opened her mouth to continue when she noticed the brunette witch’s panicked expression and realized that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to fill Ron in on their previous conversation. Harry and Ron may have reconsidered their position on Draco Malfoy, but just as Ron seemed to cling to the illusion of his baby sister’s innocence, he would be horrified to know that she had not only condoned a physical relationship between Hermione and Draco, she was advocating it. Ron had mellowed a bit since Hogwarts, but she doubted he would ever be fully shot of that fiery protective streak he exhibited towards his younger sister and female best friend.

“Come on, Ron.” Ginny grabbed his arm, distracting him from the topic at hand. “Let’s play darts.”

Hermione and Harry watched the two redheads fall into their easy pattern of bickering competition.

“So what was all that gold talk really about then?” Harry had leaned in closer and spoke in a low voice.

“Suffice it to say that Ginny’s not satisfied with the progression of certain developments regarding Malfoy.”

“That’s my girl.” He watched his wife affectionately as he spoke, laughing softly. “How are things going with that anyways?”

She stared at him.

“Not THAT, I mean things with Malfoy. You know, meeting his parents and all that.”

She had given them the abbreviated version of events, basically that neither of his parents had attempted any sort of assault on her person, though they hadn’t been especially well behaved.

She rolled her eyes. “They weren’t what I expected. Evidently incarceration and ostracism from wizarding society can change a person, though I’m not convinced it can be called reform as much as self-preservation. At any rate, both of his parents were friendlier than I expected, despite the eccentricities. And they both dote on Draco, though Lucius is less obvious about it. It’s no wonder that he’s convinced of his own superiority to the entire human race. No doubt he was raised with that idea as some sort of doctrine.”

Despite her best efforts she felt an affectionate smile cross her face as she spoke.

Harry laughed and began to answer. His words were lost to her as she was distracted by a glimpse of white-blonde hair over his shoulder. She leaned to the side, peering around Harry’s shoulder and spotting the very wizard in question seated in a secluded corner booth. Her eyes narrowed as she noted his company, an elegant and exotic looking witch who was currently leaning over the table, a flirtatious smile on her face. A sickening sensation in the pit of her stomach overtook her and she leaned back into place, feeling slightly dizzy.

“Hermione? Are you even listening?” Harry turned and followed her gaze. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, sounding angry. “Look, Hermione, maybe it’s not what it looks like…” he trailed off as she turned her scathing expression on him.

“Not what it looks like? So he is, in fact, out of town on a business right now? Because that would be the only way that he didn’t directly lie to me.” She laughed hollowly. “It doesn’t matter anyways. We never said we were exclusive, did we?”

Harry looked unsure of how to respond. He’d long since learned not to cross Hermione when she had that fire gleaming in her brown eyes. “I guess not,” he replied carefully.

“Obviously he’s still keeping his options open. It was foolish of me not to do the same.”

She flounced away before he even had a chance to register the meaning of what she said. Harry watched with a mixture of curiosity and horror as the tiny brunette sashayed up to the bar, fluttering her eyelashes in a very uncharacteristic way at one of the wizards seated there. Looking pleased and surprised, the wizard turned towards her, pulling up a tall stool for her to sit with him.

He glanced over to where Malfoy sat, apparently still oblivious to Hermione’s presence. His eyes flickered nervously between the two couples, unsure as to whether or not he should intervene. He was fairly certain that there had to be a somewhat reasonable explanation for Malfoy’s behavior, not because he couldn’t believe that Draco Malfoy would date more than one woman at a time, but he expected Malfoy would be the type to be up-front about such a situation, directly telling the women involved not to expect monogamy. Mostly, the behavior just didn’t add up. He had seen the blonde’s intensity where Hermione was concerned, ill expressed though it was.

However, he had known Hermione for years, and had no illusions about his ability to talk her down from her blinding fury. He sat back, supposing the best thing we could do was wait it out and hope to prevent any bloodshed when the inevitable combustion occurred.

* * * * * * * *



“It’s been a pleasure Chantal.” Draco placed a few galleons on the table and gathered his belongings.

“The pleasure has been all mine, Draco,” the raven-haired witch practically purred, casting him a seductive look.

He smiled and ushered her towards the exit, freezing as he caught a glimpse of wild coffee colored curls. He turned back to his companion, looking distracted. “Would you mind going ahead without me? I’ve just seen an old friend I need to have a word with.”

She looked disappointed, but nodded. “See you tomorrow then. Thanks for a lovely evening.”

He bid her goodbye and turned back towards the bar, spotting Hermione instantly. His eyes darkened with anger as he took in the situation, striding towards her as rapidly as possible though the crowded room.

She was surrounded by several young men, smiling coyly and tossing her wild curls as they each vied for her attention. As she caught sight of his angry face, her eyes lit up with triumph before she quickly looked back to the dark-haired wizard speaking to her. He felt anger pulse through him as he realized she was intentionally goading him, reaching out and stroking the arm of the enamored young wizard before her, leaning forward to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Get your hands off her” He hissed, shoving the men in his path aside as he stopped inches from her face.

The smile dropped from her face as she turned furious eyes on him. “Back so soon, Draco?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Good trip, then? I assume you got what it was that you needed.”

Harry pushed through the bewildered group surrounding the two. “Come on Hermione, let’s go,” he said quietly, avoiding Draco’s eyes as he attempted to circumvent what was rapidly turning into a scene.

Hermione ignored him, watching Draco’s face intently as a look of dawning comprehension crossed his face. Far from appearing guilty or embarrassed, however, his eyes filled with annoyance. She felt angry tears flood her eyes, willing herself to stay composed until she was out of the public eye and away from him. Her anger was fading as she faced him, leaving behind a horrid feeling of betrayal and sorrow.

“I’m ready, Harry,” she spoke, never taking her eyes from Draco’s as she grabbed her purse and stood.

“We aren’t finished.” Draco’s voice was hard.

“Actually,” she replied, dismayed to hear her voice crack, “we are. We’re totally finished.” The tears spilled over and she swiped at them angrily. Turning from him, she grabbed Harry’s arm, only to feel herself yanked back and held roughly in place as she was apparated away in Draco’s arms.

The instant she caught her balance she shoved him away, hard. “You absolute prick!” she seethed, beyond caring where they were or whether she was shouting or crying anymore.

He laughed bitterly. “Oh, that’s rich Granger, coming from you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, nor do I care,” she shouted, fumbling for her wand. “I’m out of here.”

She found herself restrained once more, gasping as he pushed her on to a sofa, pinning her beneath him, resisting her struggles easily as she kicked and pushed at him, screeching and fighting like a wet cat. Finally she collapsed in exhaustion, watching him with hatred in her eyes as she panted.

“Would you care to explain exactly what it is I’ve done that warrants this sort of behavior?” he asked, his voice betraying no emotion.

She closed her eyes, wishing in vain to be anywhere except pinned beneath him. She could feel an emotional meltdown coming on and had no desire to allow him to witness it. Without opening her eyes she responded.

“You could have told me that you were seeing other women.” She sounded so resigned that he almost felt guilty. He waited for her to continue, but she fell silent, lying still where he held her, her eyes screwed tightly shut.

“I see other women every day,” he replied shortly. “Namely, my secretary, my coworkers, and, as you witnessed today, my business partners.”

He felt her stiffen, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Why did you tell me you were out of town?”

He sighed. “I was out of town. Her company is in France. I was there earlier today, finalizing a merger agreement we’ve been working on for weeks, and we completed negotiations more quickly than I anticipated. She wanted to visit our main branch in London, so she’s in town for the weekend.”

She was silent for several moments. Then, in a small voice, she spoke again. “She was flirting with you.”

He couldn’t help laughing at that. “She flirts with everyone. Besides, she can hardly be blamed,” he finished smugly.

She huffed slightly but remained still and wordless.

“Open your eyes.”

“Can’t.”

“Granger…”

“I’m too embarrassed.”

“Justifiably so, I’d say.”

At that her eyes flew open, glaring at him as he smiled in satisfaction.

“Where are we?”

“My suite in the Manor. Your bloody cat will not be interrupting us this evening.”

It was then that she noticed the predatory gleam in his eyes as he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his broad chest. Her sandals dropped from her feet as he lifted her and she heard the thump of them hitting the floor. He carried her through a wide doorway into what appeared to be his bedroom, tossing her unceremoniously onto the huge bed before pinning her beneath him once more, this time stretched out over her body, pressing her into the mattress.

“You’ve not been well behaved this evening Miss Granger,” he murmured, giving her a dark look before leaning in to brush his lips against her. “Clearly I need to lay down a few ground rules for our relationship.”

She struggled valiantly to look annoyed, trying to ignore the flutters she felt at the weight of his body pressing against her.

“And what relationship would that be?”

He stared into her eyes. “You’re mine.” He surprised himself with the fierceness of his voice. “There will be no more ill-gotten schemes to punish my imagined transgressions.” His grey eyes narrowed into slits. “Be glad that I didn’t blast those overeager lechers into oblivion.”

His lips crashed down on hers again, slanting his mouth over hers as he tasted her hungrily. She moaned into his mouth as strong hands roamed over her body. Gone were the gentle touches of their previous encounters; replaced by a possessive fervor. The comprehension slowly dawned that there would be no interruptions this time. She shivered slightly, her heart pounding wildly as she thought of the possibilities, lust flooding her body.

She broke the kiss, pushing him away slightly and pulling at his clothes, needing to feel his skin beneath his fingers. He leaned back slightly, pulling his robe off and tossing it aside as she worked frantically at the buttons of his shirt. He pushed her trembling hands down to her sides and pulled her up, deftly unzipping her dress and yanking it over her head before hastily removing his own shirt.

She reached out, transfixed by his startlingly smooth, pale skin stretched taut over lean, hard muscles. He only allowed her explorations for a few moments before pushing her back down and pressing into her once more. Her neck and shoulders were peppered with a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he moved downwards, pausing only briefly at the curves of her breasts before pushing the silky fabric of her brassiere aside. He could feel her heart beating rapidly as he pressed his face to her chest.

Hermione felt as though she were being consumed by flame as he made his way down her body. His silky hair was falling loosely around his face, tickling her over-sensitized skin. She wriggled slightly, trying to reach behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. He laughed softly at her struggles and drew her up against him with one arm, reaching the other hand behind her back and nimbly releasing the hooks before setting her back down and sliding the garment away.

She whimpered softly as he bent over her once again, pulling a stiffened nipple into his impossibly hot mouth as his hand slid lower on her body, creeping along slowly. Her fingers wrapped around his strong arms, digging her nails in unconsciously. She could feel his erection pulsing against her thigh as he pressed it against her. His hand paused above the fabric of her knickers and he looked up briefly, gauging her reaction. She met his gaze unwaveringly, bucking her hips and pushing herself against his waiting hand.

His silver eyes darkened further, and he stood up suddenly, pulling his remaining clothing off with a speed and dexterity like she’d never seen. As his fingers hooked in the waist of his shorts, she sat up.

“Let me,” she whispered, pushing his hands away. He gave her a lazy smile as she slid her fingers beneath the waistband, pushing the shorts past his hips. He stepped out of them, and her mouth went dry as she took in his lean, muscular form and the massive erection that was glistening slightly at the tip.

He reached for her, more gently now than he had been earlier, and laid her back on the bed, sliding her knickers slowly down, trailing his hands over her slim legs as he did so.
He tossed them aside and moved back up her body, stroking her reverently as he did so. Kissing her deeply, he broke apart momentarily to speak.

“Gods you’re perfect, Hermione,” he murmured into her mouth, his hips thrusting insistently against hers, grinding his swollen length against the apex of her thighs.

She arched against him, spreading her legs to cradle him against her hips, trying to pull him inside. He positioned himself at her entrance, groaning at the wet heat emanating from between her legs and thrusting in slowly.

Suddenly he halted, his body going rigid.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes were worried now, his voice strained with the effort holding himself still as he came against an unexpected barrier.

“It doesn’t make a difference,” she whispered, pushing against him, longing for more of the delicious sensation of him filling and stretching her.

“It makes a huge difference,” he retorted, sounding annoyed. “I was in such a bloody hurry, if I’d known I would have done…”

He was cut off by a kiss.

“I’m ready.” She stroked his face reassuringly, secretly delighting in the fact that he was so flustered. When he made no move to continue she wrapped her legs around his waist, struggling to push him deeper.

He arched a pale eyebrow at her. “Impatient wench,” he muttered finally, continuing his gentle intrusion.

She gasped as he pushed past the final barrier, fully encasing himself in her tight channel. He went still again, giving her time to adjust as he composed himself, overcome by the sensation of being surrounded by the beautiful little witch he had come to adore. His arousal was almost painful as he fought the urge to shag her into the mattress.

He tilted his head, studying her face. “Alright?” he whispered, lifting a hand to smooth a stray curl away from her flushed face. She smiled almost shyly, pulling him in for a kiss and moving against him, moaning softly.

He began to thrust gently, sliding in and out of her more easily now, watching her face intently. Her mouth fell open as she arched against him, breathy moans and gasps falling from her lips. He sat up slightly, sliding a hand between their bodies and rubbing lightly at her most sensitive area.

Before long he heard her breathing go shallow and she whimpered her release, holding on to him tightly as she came. He groaned as he felt her tightening further around him, thrusting faster, panting as her channel contracted rhythmically. He buried his face in her neck and moaned her name softly as he spilled into her, his hips pistoning against hers until he was completely spent. He collapsed against her, breathing hard.

They lay still for a few minutes, Hermione stroking Draco’s back in soothing circles. Finally, he pulled his face from the crook of her neck and kissed her cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time?” His grey eyes were very serious.

She shrugged, looking away self-consciously. “I didn’t want it to be an issue. You were upset; and neither of us wanted to wait. It’s just one of those things I never got around to.”

He burst into laughter at her frank statement. “Never got around to…” he repeated softly, gazing at her with more affection than she’d ever seen in his startling eyes. “I’m glad,” he confessed. “I like being your first.”

“I’m glad too.” She held him to her, comforted by the weight of his body, still partially draped across her, and too exhausted to reflect further on the events of the evening.

She gradually drifted off to sleep, vaguely aware of him pulling a blanket over their rapidly cooling bodies. The last thing she heard was his sleepy mumbling of something that sounded suspiciously like “mine.”


A/N: So… Spontaneous? Hot? Disappointing? Hit the review button and tell me what you thought!

Hugs to all the thoughtful readers and reviewers! It’s been a ROUGH week- reading your reactions/comments is a bright point- so thank you.

*In response to review questions- this is NOT complete.