𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞

Mature content ahead, please read with caution

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Malfoy Manor

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DRACO tried not to panic.

He lost himself in the way Hermione tasted, the way her lips felt against his, the intoxicating smell collecting around her wild curls.

But he knew of her intention, and that frightened him.

She had reached for his top button, only to answer her wonderings, and then she'd slipped her hand around the base of his neck.

He reminded himself, constantly that they were only kissing. It was only a kiss, followed by another, and another. That they had done this before and it was enjoyable and sweet and familiar.

He couldn't bear the thought of where it was going. Not yet. 

Hermione leaned into him; her weight held by his chest. His hands were engulfed in her hair, cradling around her skull, angling her head in how he kissed her.

She pathed her other hand up the surface of his chest, clothed and breathless. Her stroke was soft, but she'd withdrew her lips when she'd felt over where his heart was racing, meeting his eyes with concern shining in hers.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, creases forming across the expanse of her forehead. She saw the fear in the way he stared at her, understood it when she felt his chest heave beneath her palm. "Do you want to stop?"

"No." he replied in an instant. Too fast. She looked at him with an indescribable expression. She was giving him time to gather his own senses.

He hushed the devil tainting his mind with horrifying thoughts, reminding himself of his love for her, that he would put her needs above his own, even if it scared him to do so.

"I just..." he began, throat dry and vocals strained in a slight husk, "I don't — I haven't done this in a long, long time." He thought of Astoria, how they used to sneak around together, briefly. He brought his attention back to Hermione. "But I don't want to stop; I want this with you. I just want it to be slow."

Hermione's lips curved into a smile. "I understand, it's okay. Tell me if we're moving too fast and we can slow."

He nodded, assuringly. Relieved she wasn't annoyed in some sort.

Draco pressed his lips against hers, opening his mouth to let her tongue slide in. Soft and gentle, his face slanting over hers.

Her hand splayed across his cheek, her other remaining on his chest. He kept their pace steady, angling her face to level his, and she granted him control.

His stomach was simmering with anticipation — inexperience flooding through his veins. That he was aware of, anyway. 

Draco pulled away from her lips, his long and slender fingers snaking out of her hair and climbing up the skin of her face, pushing back where her curls rooted, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, looking at her with a fierce intensity, leaving what he wished to tell her unsaid.

But she felt it in the air between them. 

He dipped his head to lightly press against her lips, but before she could deepen it, he'd bent lower to praise her chin, her head tilting back, instinctively.

"You're so perfect, Hermione." he mumbled against her skin, his mouth creeping underneath the bone of her chin and moving along the junction of her throat.