The wave of guilt that hit him was crippling. "I won't-
"Yes you will!" she yelled, pointing a trembling finger at him. "I am not for you to use and then chuck away!"
He tried to near her again but she sidestepped him before he could reach her. "Granger-
"Tell me I wouldn't be a convenient fuck!" she spat the words like they burned her tongue. "SAY IT!"
He flinched but looked her dead in the eye. "You are anything but convenient, Granger," he told her honestly. "But I know you want me to…to touch you-
"Stop it," she mumbled breathlessly, rubbing away a tell-tale tear. "That's enough-
"I know you want to touch me too," Draco continued boldly, stepping into her space again and grasping her shoulders. "You told me-
"I know what I said," she hushed him, making no valid effort to break out of his hold this time. "But you said-
"Fuck what I said," he growled huskily, tilting his head. "If you tell me not to kiss you, I won't."
The limits of his patience were judged by milliseconds as her eyes darted over his face. She looked petrified, but something that resembled acceptance graced her features as the third second ticked by, and he decided that he'd waited twenty days too long to waste another moment.
Draco kissed her roughly; unable to hold back and ready to drown in her if she'd let him. Hermione responded almost immediately, parting her lips so he could lick and suck at her with blissful ease. He could feel her nervous heartbeats against his chest as she clutched his face; her fingernails drawing teasing patterns by his ears and down his neck. Grabbing her hips tight, he rammed her back into the nearest wall and felt her moan vibrate at the back of his mouth. It trickled down his spine and stirred that dangerous twitch between his hips, and he kissed her harder.
Sweet, wet sounds mingled between them as they became more frantic, and Draco dragged his teeth across her bottom lip, and down her chin to land on her throat. Her pulse thrummed against his tongue as her dreamy little sighs ghosted across his crown, and he nibbled greedily at her flesh.
Whether he liked it or not, this tension and need had been bubbling within him for weeks, and he couldn't help but slide his palm across her stomach, and then lower. He knew he was rushing it, but after countless mornings of shower-inspired fantasies, he couldn't help but slip his anxious hand between her thighs.
"Stop," Hermione panted, digging her nails into his shoulders. "I need to go-
"No," he groaned against her skin. "Granger-
"It's too fast," she insisted, and he reluctantly pulled himself away from her. "I-I have to go to the ball-
"No!" he said more forcefully, trying to get her to meet his hazy eyes. "I know you want this-
"I need to think," she murmured, moving away from him and heading for the door. "You…you could just be doing all this to-
"I'm not!" he argued, feeling the anger rise in his voice. "Don't you dare walk out on this, Granger!"
"I…I just can't," she stuttered, scrambling to leave the room.
On the other side of the door, Hermione took a long minute to gather her composure and fix her ruffled appearance with some help from her wand. Hot tears swelled behind her eyes as her chest continued to heave, and her body failed to cease shaking.
Oh God, oh God, oh God…
She started for the Great Hall on quaking legs, using the walls to help her move down the corridors. She was late, and she could hear the music echoing amongst the castle's ancient acoustics as she neared the ball. The beat seemed to encourage the sensitive throb beneath her stomach, she tried to ignore the reminiscent tingle between her legs. She could hear the voices of students now, and she quickly schooled her features into a calm façade to conceal her shock and angst.
"Hermione!" Michael's voice called, and tried not to flinch as he came into her sight. "There you are, I was worried something had happened to you. You look amazing."
He approached her eagerly and tried to peck her cheek, but she managed to avoid the unwelcome gesture. "Thank you," she nodded politely. "Where are Ginny and the others?"
"They're already inside," he explained. "Are you ready to go in?"
"Um…sure," she mumbled, allowing him to lead her to the doors.
They paused just outside the elaborate room, and Hermione scanned all the decorations and fixtures that she had spent weeks organising. She had kept it similar to the frosty Yule Ball theme but had added a few little extras, including faux snow that fell from the ceiling, and waltzing ice-sculptures that mingled with the students. A quick glance around the familiar faces confirmed that everyone was enjoying themselves, but the cheerful atmosphere, that she had been so desperate for since the beginning of term, did nothing to soothe her temperament.
All she could think about were the tracks of Draco's lips and fingers, still buzzing in her pores and sending static across her skin. Yes, she had been nervous about where the situation had been leading, but she had fled because she'd been convinced his actions were selfish and lust-driven, but now she had doubts. His behaviour tonight and on Wednesday had been different and seemingly genuine, but she could so easily be deluding herself, or he could be a brilliant actor.
But what if…
What if it had been something more; something real? What if she had been to hasty to escape? Godric, she needed to know…
"I'm sorry, Michael," she muttered quickly, taking a step away from him. "I can't do this."
"What?" he asked, giving her a long and puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm sorry," she repeated.
Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted on her heel, and broke into an adrenaline-fuelled run that guided her back to her dorm. Back to him.
.
.
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