A Marriage Most Convenient

Increase font | Decrease font
White BG | Black BG | Purple BG | Light Text | Dark Text | Red Text | Purple Text

Chapter 18: The Truth, the Whole Truth, but Not If Draco Has His Way:

"Where an opinion is general, it is usually correct." – Jane Austen

If I believe something is true, than it is, whether anyone else believes it or not. The opinions of others mean very little to me. If I don’t believe something is true, than by golly it isn’t, so there.” – Draco Malfoy.

Draco you sound like a five year old.” – Hermione Granger.

Just tell everyone your damn quote and leave your opinion to yourself.” – Draco Malfoy.

Didn’t you read Jane Austen’s quote? If an opinion is general, it is usually correct. It is generally believed by everyone reading this story that you are acting like an immature child.” – Hermione Granger.

You can believe what everyone else believes, or you can believe what you see with your own eyes. Those are your only choices in life.” – Draco Malfoy, again.


God, he knew her secret. In his heart of hearts, if he was honest, he knew the moment he saw her with Alice that day in the park, but he had been in denial until now. At this instant, he knew without a doubt what her secret was and he didn’t care.

He reached for her, but she backed away. Her chest was heaving up and down, and he could tell she was fighting off tears. He reached again, this time grabbing her arm, which was so cold. She wrenched it from his hold and backed into a corner, so that she was in total darkness.

“No, don’t touch me. I have to tell you something and it’s easier to tell you if you don’t touch me. I told you I had to tell you my secret. Let me tell you now and after I do, you might not want to marry me, Draco. It doesn’t even matter what your aunt’s done. I want you to know one thing, though. After everything that’s happened tonight, after everything your aunt’s said, you might change your mind about marrying me, and if you do, I understand. However, one thing that happened tonight, one thing that was told to you, was a total and unmitigated lie, and what I’m about to tell you will dispute that lie. It will probably also make you hate me forever. I can’t help that. I had my reasons for everything.”

He ran toward her and shook her hard, so hard her teeth rattled. She was shocked by his immature and irrational behaviour. If he acted like this before she told him, what would he do after she TOLD him?

“Shut up!” he barked. “I don’t want to hear another bloody word come out of your mouth. I don’t want to hear your effing secret! Keep it to yourself! Just tell me if you love me and if you still want to marry me!”

“Do you love me?” she asked. “We’ve barely reconnected. How can we talk of love? Besides, I know you well, Draco. I’ve known you since you were a little boy. Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself, and you’ll hate me when I tell you this secret.”

“Then don’t tell me!” Inside his head, he was screaming: ‘I KNOW THE SODDING SECRET AND I DON’T CARE!’ but he couldn’t get those words to leave his brain and come out his mouth. There was only one thing he could do. He still held her arms with his hands, so he pulled her roughly to him, and then wrapped his arms tightly around her so that hers were pinned to her sides. She fought and tried to escape, but he was much stronger.

“Let me go! This is ridiculous! I have to tell you this!”

“NO! I don’t want to know!”

”Draco, we have to talk! We can’t avoid this. I have to tell you my secret! You have to know it!”

“NO!” It seemed like the only word he knew. He screamed it repeatedly. “No, no, no, no!” He wasn’t even aware that between each ‘NO’ he was kissing her. He screamed and then kissed her, screamed and then kissed her, to shut her up, and it finally worked. His hold relaxed and his hands went to her back and hair. Her arms went around his neck.

His mouth pressed hard on hers, moved, plunged, covered, and sucked and without forethought or thought of consequence, they stumbled until they fell on a pallet of old canvases and sails on the floor. He threw off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, and pressed his body down on hers and said, “I don’t want to hear anything from your mouth but moans of pleasure while we make love.”

Before they knew it, their hands were all over each other. She helped him out of his shirt; he pulled her dress off her shoulders. She unbuckled his pants. He tore off her bra. How he wished for more light. He wanted to see her again. See if she was as beautiful as he remembered. He fumbled on the floor for his pants, found his wand, and pointed it toward the candle, sending the light higher, the flame flickered brighter with the help of magic.

She was beside him on the makeshift bed of white canvas, and he was in awe. He sat upright, his hands tracing her shoulders, down her arms, around her breasts, up her ribcage, down her flat stomach, stopping at the top of her knickers. She placed her hands on his forearms for support.

“I love you,” he said, leaning down to kiss the middle of her stomach.

“Draco, please, before we continue may I tell you my secret first?” she asked, stroking his hair as his mouth made his way up the middle of her chest. “I want you as much as you want me, but I want to tell you this, too.”

When he had made his way back up to her mouth, he placed a lingering there before he reprimanded her by saying, “Hermione, the correct response when a bloke says I love you is to say it back. Listen, I’ve had a terrible night, and so have you. Don’t ruin it more by telling me a fucking secret, especially if you think it will upset me. I don’t like being upset.”

If she told him her secret, (a secret he already knew) they would have to TALK about it, and the talk would last forever, and frankly, he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to make love to his woman again…his mystery woman, his masked beauty, the mother of his child.

Alice was his child, and he didn’t care the circumstances behind it, he only cared that it was true, and that they were both his now. It didn’t matter how he found it, it only mattered that it was true.

With slow admiration, he continued to trace a pathway across her skin, which glowed in the soft light of the candle. His thumbs rubbed both nipples until they stood erect. His thoughts should have been on nothing but the woman beside him, but instead it was on the incredible loneliness that he had felt for so long, and on the fact that it would now be ebbed away each day that he spent with his new family. It was all he ever wanted, and he was so glad that he was selfish enough to wait for it.

His strong hands caressed her breasts fully. She moaned and closed her eyes. His eyes were dark and full of want and when she opened her eyes and looked up into his she saw that familiar desire, the want, the need, the thirst that she had seen one time before. His hands slid up to the curve of her neck, to frame her face.

She watched his eyes intently; the small building still too dark to see his pupils dilate, but she could see true purpose in his eyes. His warm breath fanned her cheek as he lowered his head, and his hot mouth closed over hers, his hands on her face tilting it upwards until their mouths fit perfectly. This was more than want or yearning. This was familiar and real and something that she wanted to claim everyday of her life.

And to do so she had to be honest with him, whether he wanted her to be or not.

Now he moaned as his tongue thrust into her mouth, plunging deeper, tasting the roof of her mouth, her teeth, the tender flesh of the sides. Everything felt so memorable and real.

Hermione pushed on his neck, his bare chest lifting from her breasts, and she stopped kissing his mouth and said, “Let me tell you this, please.”

“I swear, if you say another word I’ll throttle you,” he promised, his head coming up from a kiss long enough to threaten her. He brought his mouth back to hers, as his body continued to press down on top of her.

They were a study of contrast…light versus dark, hard versus soft. Draco even had a flickering thought that they were good versus bad, but he wasn’t sure which of them was good and which of them was bad. She had lied to him for so many years. She had kept his child from him. All the same, knowing Hermione Granger as he did, and knowing that she was generally a woman of great principle, he knew that she must have her reasons, and whatever those reasons were, he didn’t want to know them yet. He wanted her to keep her secret a while longer. He wasn’t even sure why.

Perhaps he was afraid if she told him her secret everything might go away.

His hard erection pressed against his shorts, pushed against the apex of her thighs, hard against her clit and she rocked her hips and he rubbed back and forth, and he knew he wanted her more than he wanted life itself. He also already knew, from experience, that sex with her was explosive. He removed his shorts, she removed her last barrier, and soon they were a mass of tangled limbs and hot mouths, tumbling around on the floor. He finally rolled on top of her, pulled one of her legs over his hip, and he pushed inside. He placed his hands under her hips to tilt her upward. Her hands went to his hips and then his buttocks, pressing him harder into her.

He needed no such encouragement, but he appreciated it even so.

She needed to feel him harder and harder. She needed to feel him, everywhere, inside, outside, everywhere. He thrust into her, still kissing her mouth, with kisses that deepened as each thrust deepened. He placed a hand back on her breast, pinching hard, and somehow she felt that sensation from her nipple right between her thighs and she cried out as he was still kissing her.

She screamed out her release, and he finally tore his mouth from hers, lowered his mouth to her shoulder, and screamed his release into her shoulder and then he slumped unceremoniously on top of her.

He was heavy, and she felt as if she could barely breathe. She said, “I love you but you simply must get off.”

“No, I don’t want you escaping this time,” he said. If she had been in her right mind, she would have caught his slip, and understood his meaning behind the words ‘this time’, but she didn’t understand their meaning, and she was in the haze of the aftermath of sex, so she didn’t pay heed to the meaning of his words. He finally slipped to her side, reached around for his wand, and with a simple, “Accio,” a soft, worn blanket, which was folded on a shelf on the wall, came to cover them.

She remained on her back and he propped up on his side. He traced her lips with his index finger then kissed her quickly. He could tell that she was itching to tell her secret still. She had that pensive, “Hermione Granger” look about her.

So to keep her quiet he said, “I thought dinner was nice, didn’t you? The dinner conversation was absolutely riveting!”

She turned to look at him and she laughed. She laughed hard. Her knees came up, her hands covered her face, and she even snorted. She laughed and laughed, he joined her, and when he finally removed her hands from her face he saw that she was no longer laughing, but was now crying.

“Ah, gee, love, most women don’t cry after I make love to them the first time,” he said. He knew it wasn’t their first time, but he added that because he was determined that she not know that he knew. He still couldn’t pinpoint why that was important to him, but it was. Just for now, he didn’t want her to know that he knew, and he didn’t want her to tell him.

She wiped her eyes when he pulled her to his side, against his body. Did he mean to cuddle with her? They started to cuddle after sex on the pool table, almost five years ago, and she ruined it by leaving and never revealing to him who she was. She placed her hand over his heart. “Do you mean to find your child and this woman whom you slept with at that ball?” she quizzed.

“Hermione, can we not talk about that right now?” He placed an arm over his eyes. She looked up at his face.

“Draco, not talking about unpleasant things won’t make them go away.”

“Really, are you sure, because I beg to differ?” he teased. He turned his head to look at her and said, “We haven’t talked once about that bitch Phillipa or that troll Talbert and I’m pretty sure they went away. My mother slapped her in the face, right after you went running out of the room, crying by the way, screaming nonsense about not marrying me, and then Mother told her to take her worthless son and her stupid daughter-in-law and to get the hell out of Whitehall. She told her never to say another disparaging remark about you or Alice or she would see the battle end of Mother’s wand.”

“Really? Narcissa slapped her?” Hermione smiled. “She’s a woman after my own heart.”

“Yes you always did like slapping people, didn’t you? Mother was even beating Father up a bit in the hallway before we went into the parlor. I think he was a bit shocked, too. By the way, did you mean what you said?” Draco asked.

“That she’s a woman after my own heart?” Hermione sat up, reached for her dress, and began to dress.

Draco sat up and reached for his clothing, throwing her knickers to her in the process, and as he too began to dress, said, “No, did you mean what you said when you ran like a coward out of the room shouting that you weren’t going to marry me.”

“Coward?” Hermione had one shoe in her hand and she actually hit Draco’s arm with it, very hard, before she slipped it on her foot. “That woman was questioning my dignity.”

“Who cares about dignity?” Draco stood up, rubbing his arm before he struggled into his trousers. “I’ve lived close to thirty years without a shred of dignity and I’m fine.”

“You’re barking mad,” Hermione decided. She turned her back to Draco and said, “Zip my dress, please.”

He remembered zipping her dress after they made love at the ball. He leaned over and kissed her shoulder, as he did that night, and he slowly zipped her dress. She turned around and buttoned his shirt for him. When she was done, she looked up at his face and he was smiling. “May we talk now?” she inquired.

“About the weather, about what a wonderful lover I am, about the wedding plans, about our picnic tomorrow, take your pick. Those are the only subjects in which we may converse.” Draco reached down for his tie. He took the tiepin off the tie, stuck it on his lapel, and then stuffed the tie in his jacket pocket.

Hermione sighed. “Why won’t you let me tell you this? It’s important and it has everything to do with what your aunt was telling you.”

He placed his hand over her mouth and said, “Hermione, you may tell me, but not tonight. Please, not tonight. Maybe I’m in denial, or naïve, or even a spoiled brat down deep in my bones, from so many years of practice, but I really, really, truly, want to have my way about this. Please, not tonight.” Please, he said again, in his head.

She took his hand from her mouth, gripped it in her own, and started to pull him toward the door. She leaned over, blew out the candle, and opened the door. They walked back toward the house in silence. “Fine, you may have your way tonight, but avoiding things really don’t make them go away.”

They quietly walked toward the house, the clouds in the sky parting somewhat to reveal a bright moon. When they were almost to the patio, Hermione stopped walking, which forced him to stop. “We didn’t use protection, you know, back there at the boathouse.”

“Right,” he said. “So what?”

“I just thought I’d mention it,” she replied, walking across the patio, his hand still in hers.

He knocked on her head and said, “Knock on wood; I’ve never gotten a woman pregnant so far, so you should be safe.” Of course, THAT was a lie, wasn’t it?

That statement made her stop in her tracks. He turned, knew he shouldn’t have said it, because now she wanted to tell him her secret even more. Damn, he could see the words forming in her brain before they left her mouth. Hermione said, “Draco, I can’t help what you want, I have to tell you this.”

And at that, Draco ran away from her, right into the house, as fast as he could. Hermione watched him go, shocked beyond belief. “He is either certifiable or he really is a spoiled brat, but damn, I think I’m really in love.”

<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>
[an error occurred while processing this directive]