Crawling Back

TITLE: Crawling Back
SHIP: D/Hr Goodness
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in the Potterverse. If I did, I wouldn’t be shoveling horse shit for pay. However, all characters and canon situations belong entirely to the Queen of the Potterverse, JKR. I humble myself before her and beg not to be sued. The intentions of the fic are good in nature. No profit was made from the writing of this fic. The plot is mine. It is intended to be a one-shot. Enjoy! ^_^

Loosely based on the song “Crawling Back To You” by the Backstreet Boys.

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*Bang*Bang*Bang*

Hermione jumped as she heard someone banging on her front door. With as much determination as she could muster, she ignored that persistent knocking and turned back to her movie. She dug out a spoonful of her Ben & Jerry’s and enjoyed the entire orgasmic mouthful to the percussive knocks on her door.

It was his own fault anyhow. She wasn’t about to let him back in after the fight they’d had a week ago. He’d really hurt her this time and instead of talking it out, he called it quits.

*Bang*Bang*

“I know you’re in there!” he yelled, swallowing his pride. He had to look like an ass, standing outside her house, beating his fists raw on the door. “Please, Hermione!”

He fucked up. Royally. She’d been talking about how happy Ginny seemed to be with Blaise and how the rest of her married friends were positively ecstatic. He’d stated his lack of desire for marriage. She’d started to get upset, so, naturally, he opened his mouth and the situation escalated further. In the end, he gathered in between heaving sobs from her that he didn’t love her and didn’t want to marry her and was only playing with her until he got bored or someone better came along. Which wasn’t true at all. So he suggested they take a break to decide what they each wanted to do with their relationship and the rest of their lives. This was the wrong thing to say.

She’d thrown him out a week ago. He should have gone back sooner. He shouldn’t have left at all. He knew this now as he was standing at her door, begging for her to let him back in.

“Come on,” he begged. “Let me in!”

With a loud sigh, Hermione put her pint of ice cream down, padded to the door, jerked it open, angrily snapped “go away,” and promptly slammed and locked it before he could get a toe or word in.

“I know you’re mad,” he said, knowing she could hear him. “I can’t blame you for that. I was such a fool to think that I could do without you. I know you’re there, listening behind the door. I know you’re not going to let me in, but I felt like I should tell you face to face that I was running from the truth.”

“And what’s that?” came her soft voice from the other side of the door after a long pause.

“That I love you. I always will. Merlin, I’d crawl across broken glass to get to you, to beg you for a second chance. I’m a fool and I’m dying without you,” he said, his hands shaking from nerves. She wasn’t going to take him back. He knew it. He’d blown it with the only woman he ever loved, the only one who ever loved him back. “Please, Hermione. I’m begging you. I know I broke your heart, but I just can’t live without you.”

He jumped back and almost fell off the porch as the door flew back open and she stood there, her cheeks wet with fresh tears, her eyes red from crying. He barely registered her pink bunny slippers and Winnie the Pooh pajama pants.

“I’m so sorry,” he spoke barely above a whisper. “Please forgive me.”

“You really hurt me,” she whispered back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know,” he said softly. “I’d do anything to take it all back. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” she responded, and then caught his eyes and said, “I can’t live without you either.”

“I’m yours if you’ll still have me,” he offered, looking every bit as vulnerable as he felt.

“Of course,” she smiled faintly and offered her hand.

He took her small hand in his larger hand and pulled her against his chest, holding her tightly. She returned his embrace, sliding her arms around his waist and nestling into his shirt. He loosened his grip and bent down to close the distance between their lips.

“Do you forgive me?” he whispered, his lips ghosting across hers.

“Yes,” she replied, leaning into him only to have him pull back to maintain that perfectly, torturously close interval.

“I need to hear you say it,” he clarified, stroking a hand through her thick curls.

“I forgive you,” she said, delivering the words he’d longed to hear since the hurtful ones left his mouth.

With that, he closed the gap, kissing her for the first time in a week. He’d missed this woman, her gentle touch, more than he’d ever dreamed was possible. He massaged his hands through her hair as he pulled her as close as he could, kissing her as though she was the oxygen he needed to breathe. His tongue slowly traced her bottom lip, compelling her to open her mouth to him. She complied, gliding her tongue against his as he slipped into her mouth.

He back her up against the door frame and pressed into her, letting her feel part of him that missed her as well. She gave a tiny whimper when she felt him prodding into her stomach and broke their heated kiss.

“Let’s go up stairs,” she suggested, practically reading his mind.

He felt a knowing twitch in his trousers at the look in her eye as she took his hand and pulled him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. As soon as the dead bolt was turned, he had her against the door, kissing her with all the passion he possessed. She moaned and arched up to him, sliding her hands up to tangle themselves in his hair as she held him firmly to herself. He pulled one of her legs up around his waist and rocked his hips into hers, eliciting a groan from her as he broke away from her lips and began showering tiny kisses across her jaw and down her neck.

“Bedroom. Now,” she commanded in between gasps and sighs.

He slipped his hands under her bum and lifted her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around him, then he proceeded to carry her up the staircase into their bedroom.

“Hermione, love, I’m going to drop you if you don’t stop that,” he warned as she began nibbling up and down his neck.

“Right, then,” he said and fell to his knees on the landing at the top.

He gently guided her down onto her back and then covered her body with his own as he resumed kissing her again. He snaked a hand under her shirt, his fingertips dancing across the smooth skin of her stomach up to the gentle curve of her breast. She gasped into his mouth as he fit her breast into his hand and gave it a tender squeeze before brushing his fingertip across the tip, her nipple hardening under his sensual touch.

“This has got to go,” he mumbled to her as he tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and pitching it down the stairs.

Her breasts were bared to him now and he smiled faintly. He’d never get over how perfect he thought she was. He never understood her obsession with her apparent imperfections and wobbly bits. He personally considered himself an expert on her body and would swear in a court of law that she was a Greek goddess and had no such thing as “wobbly bits.”

He let out a hum of approval and lowered his mouth to one and then the other, showering each in kisses and then swirling his tongue around the dusky pink tips that were aching for his undivided attention as Hermione writhed and whimpered beneath him.

“And these,” he began, sitting back on his feet and lifting her legs up. “These ridiculously silly things must go as well.”

He pulled her slippers off and tossed them over the railing, and then he slipped her pajama pants off, throwing them randomly behind himself.

“You’re too overdressed,” she stated huskily, sitting up and looking at him through hooded eyes.

“Let’s remedy that,” he answered, taking her hands and placing them on his shirt.

She smiled at him and took his shirt in her hands, tearing it open to hear the satisfying snap of each button popping off. She pushed it off of him almost urgently and then spread her hands across the hard planes of his chest, feeling as much of him as she could before leaning over and placing a kiss on his sternum. She kissed her way across his broad chest, up his shoulder, and along the smooth column of his neck as she unbuckled his belt. Her nimble fingers worked the button and fly of his trousers as she found his lips again, giving him an almost chaste kiss before he pushed her back down and finished removing his trousers, boxers, shoes and socks himself.

He moved back over her and stroked her hair away from her face, gazing down into her eyes. He was home. This was where he belonged. There was no doubt in his mind. He ran a hand down her thigh and pulled it up over his hip. Her other leg followed suit and she felt the tip of his arousal pressing against her opening. She met his grey eyes again and gave consent he needn’t have asked for but wanted nonetheless.

“Please, Draco. I need you,” she whimpered as he teased her a bit, rubbing himself along her slit but not yet entering her. He didn’t have the patience for foreplay tonight.

“I love you,” he whispered, finding her opening and sliding home.

She moaned loudly at the feeling of having him deep within her again. He was the only one who could fill her completely, the only one who made her feel whole. He picked a slow pace at first, dragging it out for as long as he could tolerate it, slowly pulling back and thrusting into her again and again. She hooked her feet around her ankles in the small of his back and attempted to drive him harder, succeeding only once or twice. He was determined to make slow, sweet love to her at the top of the stairs. At least, until he started to feel the beginning of his release.

He began plunging into her harder and faster, eliciting louder and more desperate moans from his beautiful woman. He felt her come undone, her body tightening and then relaxing as she whimpered beyond her control. He let go then, racing for the finish line.

“Draco,” she spoke calmly to him as he pounded into her, his fingertips grasping at his own orgasm. “I love you, too.”

At that, he buried his head in her shoulder as his thrusts became erratic and hard. Stars burst behind his eyes and he groaned into her hair as he released himself deep within her. He lay there, panting hard and still inside her as he reached for his trousers. He rustled about with them and then pitched them away.

“Hermione,” he began. “This may well be the most unorthodox way to go about doing things, but I couldn’t care less. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past week, and I’ve found a solution to our issue.”

“And what do you think that is?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Simple,” he stated, holding out a white gold and diamond ring to her. “Marry me.”

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AN: Fun stuff. I don’t know who actually reads this section, but I write it anyway. It’s kind of a habit now. Anywho, this is my first fic in a while. I’m feeling a bit rusty. It was kind of hard to put what was going on in my mind into words. I had this brainchild a few weeks ago and finally felt the wind blow me this direction. As per usual, I hope you guys enjoyed this. Be cool and review! ^_^