To Brew A Scandal by stars_in_motion

Chapter 17

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @stars_in_motion ON A03!!

Hermione stood outside his bedroom door, gathering the courage to knock.

When Draco suffered from the nightmare, she had obviously focused on finding the door rather than studying its design. It was daunting in size and ostentatious, in a way that most of the family heirlooms across the Manor were. And here it was, challenging her.

In the end, Hermione did not need to knock. Just as she raised her hand to rap her knuckles against the door, it swung open before she touched the wood. Hermione jumped back while Draco looked startled to find her standing there.

"Is something the matter?" Draco asked, his brow furrowed.

"I wanted to come here." Hermione cleared her throat and shifted slightly. She was still dressed in the gown she'd worn that night to the wedding, while he had already changed into his loose fitting nightclothes. It took every ounce of self-control to keep herself from looking down at him, or else be subjected to his knowing smirk. "You said you wouldn't have me come to you out of pity."

"That's right."

"But I don't pity you."

Draco leaned against the door, his incredulous gaze turning substantially darker. "Is that so?"

Hermione only nodded. She had come here for a reason, and she would not be intimidated into leaving. For a small moment, they stayed at an impasse, staring at each other. When the urge to run back to her bedchamber became unbearable, Draco slowly opened the door wider—an invitation for her to slip through.

Draco loomed by the doorway, shutting it closed behind her as she peered around his room.

During her last visit, she had been preoccupied with attending to his night terror. While the door had been flamboyant in its design, Draco's room was decidedly spare, save for a few books strewn across his plain furniture. Even the walls were bare of artwork, devoid of the opulence of their home, except for a simple mirror. If she had to guess, it even felt smaller than her own. This room looked to simply be the place he slept at night.

"Do you require assistance with your laces?" Draco's quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, stalking closer between her and the door.

While she had come to his room very willingly, intent on what Ginny would have referred to as being 'approachable', the look in his eye sent her heart racing. It was impossible to tell who was the cat or mouse in the room. Perhaps entering his own lair was a distinct disadvantage, rather than her being in control.

Hermione nodded, and his challenging smile sparked a flame in her belly. "Turn around," he ordered.

He swept her hair aside, his breath warm across her neck, and began working at the laces of her gown.

If she managed to turn back time to tell herself a month ago that Draco Malfoy of all people would be undressing her at what she considered a sinfully slow pace, she would've rightfully declared insanity.

Hermione watched his expression discreetly through the mirror on the wall, wondering how quickly things between them had changed in only a month. Where was the Draco Malfoy that left her furious following every conversation, the one that had needled at her side at every available opportunity? If he was to be believed, the one that had tripped her in the bookstore never truly existed, and that one would certainly not be as eager to have her in his bed.

Was he the one she had known as a young girl? That had been years ago, and they seemed to have reached some silent agreement never to speak of it. His damp hair stuck out waywardly, so boyish in a way that made her heart ache. But he certainly never looked at her then as he did now—with promised hunger.