Blood Magic

Late Night Distress Calls

Draco couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so much. Hell, it may have been second year when he was finally able to play quidditch. But nothing held a candle to the night he had just spent with his little witch.

To say he was reluctant to leave Hermione's side was a bloody understatement.

Feeling her warm, plush body against his own had Draco's mind dancing with pleasant and light hearted thoughts. His descent into the dark lower levels of the school was not its usual depressing journey. As he recapped all that had occurred during their 'research' session, his disposition could not have been more jovial.

His heart slammed in his ribcage each time he thought about her lips pressed against his own; or how soft and open her moans filled the space around them. The sweet scent of her arousal paired with her normal essence had him wanting to grind his hips into her fervent heat. He managed to keep his hands clamped around her waist, or in her hair, as a means of preventing himself from going too far. Draco hadn't wanted to frighten her by pushing her into something she may not be ready for.

Although it had taken every bit of self control left in him not to act on his primitive instincts, Malfoy was just biting to slip his hands beneath the hem of her skirt. His nails curled in delight at imagining the soft feel of her thighs. Having her trembled above him; completely spread out while his fingers followed the hot, needy trail to her slick heat.

Draco's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he recalled her moans and desperate mews as he swept her lips into a feverish kiss. Yes, his trousers had become extremely tight and uncomfortable with each passing second the two spent on the floor. Part of him knew Hermione could feel his stiffness rubbing up against her inner thigh. He wanted her to feel just how much he wanted her.

"How could she think she's not desirable? Damn nearly came in my fucking pants," he growled to himself.

Malfoy placed his bag down and dropped into his leather chair in the living room. After such an invigorating night, he was in much need of a quiet moment to himself. There were a number of things that pressed on the Slytherin's mind, but only one rose to the top. Hermione. Specifically, his feelings towards her.

Draco would never deny his feelings for her. He couldn't even if he tried, but that's besides the point. What Malfoy was eager to know was why his feelings towards the Gryffindor Princess had become so amplified in such a short amount of time.

His attraction towards the brunette stemmed all the way back to when he first encountered her on the train in their first year. And gradually, over a painful number of years, his emotions grew stronger and Draco discovered more reasons as to why she was so perfect in his eyes.

Yes, he admired her advanced intellect, but there was so much more to her that made his heart stammer in his chest.

Her smile. It was enough to bring him to his knees every time he saw it. Sadly, those moments have been very far and few in between lately.

The way her eyes would light up whenever she'd read something that intrigued her. Draco could watch her read for hours and never grow bored.

And then it was the manner in which she dressed. Merlin save him, whenever Granger wore a pair of those muggle pants. Jeans were they called? Draco could barely focus whenever she switched out of her school robes for a well-fitted pair of those light blue pants. They hugged her legs and hips so snuggly, it made it near to impossible to think about anything other than her sweet backside.

So, needless to say, Malfoy's feelings have always been somewhat prevalent. However, these past few weeks have made the last several years of his life seem like nothing more than a school boy's crush. The second Draco realized she had come back to Hogwarts, his entire being was knocked off its kilter. His blood was set ablaze. His creature thrashed and snarled against its cage, wanting to come out and play.