A Feeling Unknown

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Chapter 23: Too Much –


She still had his hand as she walked through the door. She placed her keys and purse on the bookshelf by the entry. She turned on a light, and shut the door. She walked over to the couch. His hand was still in hers the whole time. She was afraid to let him go. They stood before the couch. He looked at her, moved his hand to her face, and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. Then she smiled and he knew he would be lost to her forever.


He took off his coat and threw it on the floor. He unbuttoned the top bottom of her coat, and then asked, “Are you okay?”


A slight nod was her reply.


He shut his eyes for the briefest moments, willing himself to go slow, to savor every moment, to make sure he did nothing to lose her this time. He unbuttoned another button. She couldn’t look him in the eye. His right hand went up to her face and forced her gaze upon his. He unbuttoned the third button, which was the last one that she had fastened. He slipped her coat off her shoulders, in exaggerated slowness. He wanted everything about this to go slow. They had an unspoken agreement after all. They proclaimed aloud their love for the other, their pledge, so to speak. Therefore, what was to come next was unspoken, but louder than a clanging gong.


He placed his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. He took a deep breath, and even though he couldn’t pinpoint an exact smell, she still smelled sweeter than anything he had encountered in his whole 23 years. He wished he had thought this out, planned it, but he had no idea he would see her today. He had no idea he would ever see her again, yet circumstances brought them back together, and now he had to do things right.


He moved them to the sofa. He noticed that she had his shirtsleeve bunched tightly in her fist. Was it to keep him from leaving? On the other hand, it could be out of desperation, or fear. He took her hand from his sleeve, and cradled it in his own. He brought it to his face and kissed her open palm. He shut his eyes and kissed it again. “I’ve loved you for such a long time.”


“I wish you had told me a long time ago, then,” she said.


He looked back at her face. He wished he had, too. Draco Malfoy wasn’t a sentimental man - not one for roses and sonnets, which was good, because he could only think of two things he wanted to say to her, and if he said only them he would sound redundant. However, he had to say them at least once, and then he would no longer have any regrets.


He cupped her face with his right hand, and moved his thumb back and forth across her bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful, and I love you so much.” He really had nothing else to say, except, “and I’ll never hurt you in any way, shape or form.”


“I know,” she replied softly. Then she seemed to cringe. She said, “What if I’m not able to show you how much I love you. What if I want you to stop? Would you would end up hating me?”


“Probably,” he said lightly. She expelled a small laugh, almost like a puff of air. He laughed as well and said, “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.” He sighed and leaned back, but brought her with him. She turned in his arms slightly so that she was angled toward him, and he found that he was once again touching her face. He touched her slowly, with just his index finger. He touched her eyes, her nose, her chin, her mouth. He was trying to memorize every freckle, every line, and every sweet feature of her face. He outlined her mouth twice before leaning toward her to kiss her. It dawned on him that they really had never shared many kisses, and yet here they were, about to make love. He thought that was odd, but somehow appropriate.


He lifted her onto his lap, but then angled himself so his back was against the sofa pillows, and she was lying in front of him. He began to touch her chin, and then her neck. He let his fingertip trail along her collarbone, and then back up to her ear. Once in her hair, he fanned it out with his whole hand, her hair threading through his fingers. Every so often, he would lean forward and kiss her, with light kisses, mostly on her mouth, sometimes across her cheek, or on her forehead, her eyebrows, and her nose. His hand went down to the plains of her abdomen, as he pulled on her bottom lip with his.


She realized she should be a more active participant, but she didn’t know what to do, and everything he did just felt so nice. She pushed his head up from the crook of her neck and asked, “Do you want me to do anything?”


He laughed openly and said, “Only Hermione Granger would ask something like that.”


She hit his arm and said, “I’m serious.”


“I know you are.”


“You know because of what happened to me that I’m not a virgin, but I don’t know what I’m expected to do,” she said quickly.


He placed his mouth over hers, kissed her long and hard, and said, “But my dear, sweet Granger, you are a virgin. Your virginity is something you give to someone. It’s not something someone can take from you.”


She looked at him for so long that she felt as if time stood still. Finally, she said, “I think that’s not quite true, but it’s very sweet of you to say, and I really do wish that I could give that to you.”



He kissed her again, hesitantly. His hand went to her shirt, and he pulled up the hem, so that his hand could encounter skin. Her skin was warm. It was soft and warm, like he knew it would be. His lips were tepid on her body, as they trekked from her mouth to her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing frantically at his shoulders. She gripped him so hard that he thought she might cause bruising. Her arms shook and she shut her eyes.


He moved his hand slowly from her stomach to cup one breast, under her shirt. He felt the lace of her bra, and he played lightly with the fabric, all the while kissing her and telling her how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her.


She was taut with anticipation. She was one raw bundle of nerves and desire. She almost felt this was wrong, but only for a moment. She had broken up with Theo. Draco had said that he loved her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She had to get the thought that this was wrong out of her mind.


This was right.


The more he kissed her, and murmured to her, the more relaxed she became. Finally, when he moved partially on top of her, his thigh between her legs, she was so relaxed that she couldn’t protest, even when he pulled her shirt over her head. He followed with his own, and kissed her above the lace bra, on her shoulders, and even on her stomach. She was no longer relaxed. She was breathing so hard he thought she might hyperventilate. He kissed her firmly and extensively on the mouth again. He tried to will her to calm down by his kiss.


Instead, it had the opposite reaction, and she was only becoming more nervous and anxious. He felt her heartbeat as he kissed her chest. He moved her bra straps down her shoulders, as his lips grazed her body softer than a downy feather. Her breathing was now coming out in shallow little bursts, and he knew he had to move her to the bedroom, and soon.


He sat up, which forced her to sit up, too. He stood and took her hand. He started down a little hall, then said, “Where’s your bedroom?” She walked in front of him, opened her bedroom door, and pulled him inside. They left the door open, and headed right for the bed.


She sat on the bed, as he removed his shoes and socks. She took off only one shoe, and one sock, and then she stopped. He stood her up, reached behind her, and unclasped her bra. She placed her hand in front to hold it in place. He turned her around and began to kiss her shoulders and back. She let the bra slip from her hands. He got down on his knees, as if in prayer, and kissed the small of her back. He turned her around again, to face him. She held her arms over her chest. He kissed her stomach and then looked up at her, held her stare, and he removed her last shoe and sock.


He stood back up, continued to look at her, her eyes asking questions, his trying to answer. He removed his slacks, but kept the last barrier, his shorts, on his body, and then he reached for the waistband of her jeans. He unbuttoned the button and she looked away. Their connection broken for only a moment, a hitch caught in her throat. He pulled her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her bare breasts were soft against his body. He whispered in her ear, “We can stop.” He actually wasn’t sure he could stop, but he would if she asked him to, even though it would be difficult.


“I don’t want to stop, I want to continue,” she said into his chest. He eased her back to the bed, his body still covering hers. She sat down and then lay back on her own. She removed one arm from in front of her breasts, then the other. This time, she dare not look away. He tried hard to look only in her eyes, but seriously, he had waited so long - he couldn’t help but look at her bare breasts. When he did, he caught up in emotion and he felt lightheaded.


He lowered himself on the bed as she wiggled out of her jeans by herself. She kept her last piece of clothing, blue lace knickers, on as well. He sat up beside her and took one of her hands. He kissed it, and examined each part of it with his tongue, dipping it between her fingers, kissing the knuckles, the palm, the tips of her fingers, her pulse. He let that hand fall to her side and did the same with the other hand. She had never felt anything so erotic in her life, and he was only kissing her hands.


He paid the same intense attention to every part of her body. He paid homage to the inside of each arm, each knee, her thighs, but he didn’t yet touch or kiss her breasts. He would save that for when she was less afraid. Each kiss and lick shot waves of intense heat to her belly and beyond. She never thought making love could be so nice.


She started to tremble, her hands still at her sides, still not quite participating, and embarrassed by the fact, she pushed him on his back. At first, he seemed surprised, then he smiled and almost laughed, but when she began to kiss and worship his body, he knew he had his wish fulfilled.


After she had shown him the same reverence that he had shown her, she went rolled to her back to invite him for more. He leaned over and flicked his tongue lightly over one nipple; her arms went tightly over his shoulders, and for the first time she made a sound, and that sound signaled the fact that he should go further. That sound meant that he could no longer think straight. She felt the wisp of her lacey knickers moving down her legs, knowing that he was the one moving them, and she no longer cared.


He looked up at her face as he removed his own underwear as her hands covered her face. He kissed his way up her body, and once he was to her face, he removed her hands and grinned. “I’m naked,” she said when he looked upon her face with amusement.


“You don’t say? So am I,” he said back. She started to laugh and he feigned hurt and said, “I’m not sure women usually laugh at this part.”


“Oh lord, Malfoy, just get on with it.” She grinned. His large hand went lightly down her face, to her neck, and shoulder. It stopped for a moment at her breasts, and then traveled lower. When he reached his destination, he did nothing for a moment but leave his hand in place, unmoving.


Then he kissed her as he began to move his hand. They were both gone by that time. Something unspoken once again passed between them, and she cried out as a wave went through her body, her back arched off the bed, and her one hand went over her head and the other clasped her own mouth. His mouth went back to her breasts, pulling and sucking on one nipple and she almost wanted him to stop. She wasn’t sure she could continue, because the pleasure she felt was bordering on ache, not ache that was borne from pain, but ache that was borne from need, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with that feeling.


Instead of thinking about it, she decided just to feel. Her hips lifted again, she stood on the precipice, and he took her over the edge, with nothing more than his mouth on her breasts and his hand down below. She felt as if she was weightless, and floating on an ocean, made up of an array of different coloured stars, and each star burst into millions of rays of light, which shattered in her brain when she came. She was aware of him moving on top of her, and entering her, supporting his weight by his arms. He told her she was beautiful again, and she told him that so was he. He said, “I love you,” and she felt slightly off guard for what happened next, but it was a pleasant feeling, so the only thing she could say in response was his name. She called out his name, unable to say anything else.


Tears filled Theo’s eyes as he ran from Hermione’s apartment, Draco’s letter still grasped in his hand. Everything came to him at once, all the memories, all the pain, cut through his heart like a million shards of glass. Seeing Draco and Hermione making love, an act that he had never even shared with her, and hearing her call Draco’s name was the final act of irony, which drove him over the edge.


It was too much.


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