Unactable

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter; I do not earn money by writing this story.

A/N: Again, a huge thank you to nastygrl and dynonugget for the beta, the feedback, the support and for showing me where those commas go.

Unactable

A smaller table had been set up on the balcony adjacent to his bedroom with candles floating above it, the park beyond it beautiful in the moonlight.

Candles also cast their warm light on the earthen and bronze tones of fabrics and polished wood of the Master suite. Instead of aloof and impersonal, the rooms felt homely and grounded.

He had been waiting for her. The soft grey trousers and light pullover looked comfortable and less severe than any robe she had ever seen him in. It reminded her of how young he actually was, how young they both were, despite his position of power and responsibility and the life they had been living on two different sides of a war. She felt very much like the barely-out-of-school girl that she was supposed to be.

With warm, firm hands around hers, he pulled her out of the door to the balcony.

"Would you like to eat first?"

Hermione flinched under his warm hands on her shoulder blades. 'First' implied that something would follow after dinner, and she was not quite sure as to whether she would be able to keep her roiling stomach in check.

Head on, Gryffindor, she thought. Where is your legendary courage?

She shook her head no, not trusting her voice.

Taking her face into his hands he leaned closer. When his breath was hot on her lips and cheeks, he hesitated.

"I have imagined this moment since I first saw you. I want to taste you."

She closed her eyes, telling herself that it would be alright, that she would be able to handle the situation and come out alive and possibly even unscathed.

With his being so adamant about kissing her lips, she felt trepidation as to what to expect. Would he plunder her mouth mercilessly? She had kissed Ron before, and it had always been urgent, rushed and uncomfortable. Privacy was scarce in the Burrow as well as at Grimmauld Place. Order members, Molly Weasley, or, if they dared to leave the security of these houses, Death Eaters, were wont to surprise them in their dark corners where they sought refuge from the insanity that had become the wizarding world.

Now she wished that they had not cared about protocol or appearances or too many people in crowded dorm-like rooms where they huddled together night after night. She wished that they would have seized the moment for themselves. She wished that they had not waited for a later that had never come.

Draco's lips were soft and gentle on hers, placing tiny kisses on her mouth, her nose, her eyes before pressing against her closed lips more insistently.

Emotions rose up in her chest, constricting her throat and threatening to choke her. All the suppressed pain and grief seemed to wash over and overwhelm her.

She had known that Ron and she were not suited for the long term. But they could have given each other comfort in those times of distress, those times that now appeared tame in comparison to how they had hardly ever left the battle fields later on.

She could have given him comfort instead of this Death Eater that was now holding her face, able to snap her neck at any moment.

And then Ron had been gone.

Forever.

With a sob that she hoped sounded like a gasp, she opened her mouth and invited Draco in. Her hands tangled in his hair. She pushed the sorrow away to a hidden place inside of her, pushed away the memories of chess games at night and quiet companionship in the Gryffindor common room, pushed away the memories of Ron's familiar warm smell and the feel of his soft Weasley pullover under her hands, away, away until she could only feel those soft, warm lips on her.

Her hands developed a life of their own, tugging so hard on his long hair that it must have hurt him.

The vigour with which she returned his kiss surprised him, and he nearly lost himself in the kiss before he remembered that he had planned on savouring this experience.

The flowy robe fell easily at his touch, forgotten on the floor. Exploring fingertips roamed over her arms, her back, her hips until firm hands pressed into the small of her back.

He slowly walked her backwards until she suddenly felt the cool, crisp sheets of Egyptian cotton at her legs, and it was only natural to scoot up onto the wide bed.

Soon his clothes had joined her robes on the floor, and he slid in between the sheets beside her.

He kissed her again, lips and tongue distracting her from his hands trailing over her clavicle, her breasts, where his fingertips idly circled a nipple that hardened at the surprise of the attention. Four fingertips barely touching her slid down her sides, making her jerk when her nerve endings reacted to him. He smiled against her mouth and hooked one foot around her leg, pulling it towards him while his hand pushed the other leg raised at the knee to fall to the side.

Draco moved down, and her toes curled in nervous anticipation of what might come next.

Instead of spreading her open, he gathered her flesh firmly between his fingers, sending a delicious stab of sweetness through her body. He brought his head to her sensitive skin and sucked it into his mouth with a vehemence that bordered on sharp. Every now and then, his tongue would slide between her lips, and her hips bucked into him.

"Easy."

She could feel the curling of his lips against her thigh and then he moved back up, still holding her pulsing flesh tightly.

"Tell me." Kisses along her shoulder. "What do you think about when you touch yourself?"

Hermione was very still. After a few moments he detected the change in her and looked up, a question in his eyes.

"I don't."

"You don't think?" It might be possible, he supposed.

"Touch myself."

At Hogwarts, when the other girls in the dorm had been giggling about their first attempts at snogging behind the tapestry of Aethelraed the armless, Hermione had been researching and studying. Helping Harry, helping Ron, helping the Order had filled her days since her first year. More than once she had cried of exhaustion over yet another tome working late at night in the library.

Later, there had been more research, fighting, hunting Horcruxes, cross referencing, yet again research and then only fighting.

Order Headquarters had to serve as shelter, sick bay, training ground and prison. Accommodation was sparse, but she had seen how some of the girls had stopped to care about the presence of people on the mattresses on their left and right. Raised knees, spread wide, had tented the thin woollen blankets, rhythmic movement beneath.

Couples had savoured the last nights together, every one of them a gift. None of them spared a thought about the other inhabitants of the communal dormitory, silencing charms shielding them from the conversations, wheezing breaths and coughs that would remind them of the harsh reality.

Of course Hermione had seen how people around her were shedding their inhibitions. Of course she had longed for Ron to be near. But there were his parents in the very same room. His brothers.

They had always promised each other to make it out of the war and then, then it would be special between them. Meaningful.

Draco placed a soft kiss on her lips, bringing her back to the present.

"That is clearly something that we will have to change."

He gently traced her open sex with his index finger, outlining it at a leisurely pace, without any hurry.

All the while his eyes never left her face. She stared up at him rather uncomfortably, enduring his slow exploration that now concentrated on the sensitive skin around the small bundle of nerves that was now slowly swelling.

He appeared to be very confident and determined in his ministrations, and admittedly, she did not have much experience of her own, her experimentations far in the past, but from what she had read, this did not seem to be the most promising...

Oh gods.

He smirked as he watched her eyes grow large and her mouth form a surprised 'o'.

She felt so heavy between her legs. All she could do was to splay her legs wider and bite her lip as she stared mesmerised into his gray eyes.

His finger moved unbelievably slowly.

Back. Forth.

Back. Forth.

Over to the other side.

Back. Forth.

Taking his time. Never giving her the friction she craved.

So full, so heavy.

Back and forth.

Her eyes pleaded with him; she wanted to squirm but was afraid to miss any of the contact with his hand.

Back and forth. So slowly.

The pressure decreased even further, becoming feather light.

Hermione whimpered in protest, and he let his fingertip slide one last time alongside her clit, never touching it, and she went rigid, a strong pulse coursing through her body, every wave long and deep with ecstasy.

His expression was unreadable when her vision came into focus again. Her breathing was laboured, and her lips and cheeks tinged a dark rose colour.

He leaned down and brushed his lips gently against hers.

"And this is what you were missing out on."

Hermione could feel heat rushing into her cheeks; even her ears felt hot.

Draco swallowed hard. Seeing her climax at his hand had been a powerful sight, and now she simply looked irresistible in her embarrassment.

More blood rushed to his cock, reminding him of all the things he had planned for her.

Stroking her hair away from her forehead, he pressed his mouth to her cheekbone and spoke against her skin.

"I have to have you."

He locked his hands beneath her arms and with a bit of help from her, pushing herself up with her legs, he leaned her against several pillows propped up in front of the headboard.

As he had done the first time, he knelt between her spread legs, her thighs resting on his. He did not waste any time and entered her with a sharp thrust. Rising up on his knees, he tilted her hips up and leaned onto her thighs to hold her open and gain leverage.

She did not know what to do with her hands and ended up gripping the edge of the head of the bed behind her while he was moving her against it, sliding over a spot inside her that stoked the glimmer of arousal left over from her earlier climax. Her muscles in her abdomen were tight with want.

He fought to keep his rhythm steady, penetrating her deeply. She looked so beautiful beneath him, surprised with every new sensation, her reactions unguarded and true. It was nearly unbearable how tight she felt around him, nearly rigid with arousal.

When he saw her closing her eyes and biting her lip in concentration, focussing on the tension inside her, he brought his hand to their joined bodies. This time he touched her clit directly and firmly, stroking her with his thumb much faster than his thrusts that repeatedly touched her womb. Her eyes flew open, and she clamped down around him hard. He kept pushing into her hot sex, kept stroking her until she pleaded with him to stop, too sensitive to endure the contact anymore.

The knowledge that he had driven her to her limits made him tumble over the edge, spilling his seed; he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, feeling her rapidly fluttering pulse against him.

They rested, leaning on each other at the head of the bed for a long time before he slid out and lay down next to her. Reaching out, he pulled her down as well, a flick with his wand covering both of them with the heavy, bronze coloured duvet.

"Should I go now?"

Draco did not open his eyes.

Women did not come to the manor, to this room.

Women did not stay the night.

But this woman now belonged to his household.

He draped her over his chest, her head on his shoulder.

"No. Stay."

She simply remained silent. Usually, women would now try to flatter him about his size or prowess in the hope to increase the value of her morning gift.

As if anyone but a wife was worth a morning gift.

Jeanne had rested against him, her slow, content and sated breaths a greater boost to his ego than any false compliment.

There was a nagging thought that would not leave him once it had wormed itself inside his mind.

"Were there many?"

Hermione was assaulted by unbidden images of the Memory Charm and stiffened while she thought she could feel rancid breath, saturated with alcohol, washing over her face, the smell of unwashed bodies so strong that it was nearly impossible not to believe the images. Those men had not touched her. Yet, it was hard to accept, even for her.

"No." Slowly her lurching stomach calmed. "I did not have to go back. You were very generous."

He drew her even closer, tightening his arms around her. She could barely hear the words he whispered into her hair.

"I am glad. I am so glad."

It made her feel strangely warm and content that he had asked this question now and not before the contract had been signed.

Drifting off to sleep, she nearly missed his next question.

"Why did you have that vegetable with you that night?"

Drowsy with sleep, the warmth worked like Veritaserum on Hermione.

"I stole it."

Draco moved his head a little to the side in order to be able to look down at her face; her eyes were closed, lips already slightly parted and features relaxed.

"Why would you do that?"

She snuggled deeper into him.

"I was so hungry," she mumbled nearly unintelligibly.

Now it was his turn to stiffen. His arms tightly around her, he listened to her breaths, eyes wide in the darkness; he stared out the French doors, not even seeing the candles still floating above the small table and forgotten dishes on delicate Chinese porcelain.

He could not give her the traditional jewels, even though he cared little about them. These were reserved for the future Lady Malfoy, and the old magic infused in them would reject anyone who did not already wear the family ring.

He would think of something.

He would give her her morning gift.