Drawn ( A Dramione Story)

A Gift

Hermione was thrown against her bedspread like a ragdoll to his strength. She flopped against the mattress, back to her knees in a second. It was a bit of a shock to find herself there after only a minute of silence in the bathroom after he caught her, especially with her hands down her pants. Now they were going to just snog like crazy instead of arguing?

Malfoy stood at the edge of her bed with a glint of hunger in his eye.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to spark another fuse, but she was quicker than him. She laced her fingers under the base of his tie, pulled him forward and planted her lips atop his. The warmth was well worth the wait. Something about his lips were a blessed high that she craved.

"Just shut up," she whispered when she pulled away for air.

"Thank Salazar," Malfoy moaned. His knees raised to the mattress. He walked close. His hands reached out for her waist. Their pale length in reminder of something else she wanted to reach out for her. "Pretending to argue is taxing."

A surge of excitement shot through her. He didn't like to argue? Malfoy was there for her. Not his anger or lust. He wanted her.

Her lips backed away slowly to watch him, but his sought her out through closed eyes. He tried to find his way back to her lips until he finally gripped her tight and threw her against his chest. There wasn't another second until the tip of a tongue slipped through her parted lips like a snake through a cave. So slippery, sneaky.

Slowly, she took his hands away from her waist and lowered them to his sides. He let them hang there as they kissed with fever. Passion filled their lips stronger and stronger. All the while, not matter how they twitched or started to reach out for her, Malfoy kept his hands at his sides.

Oh Godric! She owned him.

She couldn't stop herself from gripping his shirt so tensely as her tongue scoured the sweet delectable taste of his mouth that the fabric ripped in her hand. A thought to be embarrassed emerged, but when his kissing didn't stop, neither did she.

The white shirt dropped from his shoulders in a smooth slide, as her fingers ran over the taut flesh it revealed. Every edge of his was smooth. She liked the way he felt. Soft, gentle. An angel in the flesh all at her disposal. Little resistance came on their journey down his arms until they met his fingers. Like an instinct, his laced between hers.

One look from his exposed face let an ounce of bravery peek through her fear. The raw vulnerability around his eyes as they watched her carefully, lips parted, hair fallen from his precise style. Everything about him was so un-like himself that Hermione felt there was another wizard under him entirely.

Another wizard she needed.

"Mine," she muttered. "Mine."

His eyes flickered up from their clasped hands. She thought he might speak. This was Draco Malfoy she was with. There wasn't a moment he hadn't ruined with his mouth. However, a dark shadow crossed his eyes as he nodded.

That damnable Slytherin pride. He would admit it, just as he made her do.

She'd enjoy it just as much, too.

Their hands raised up in front of her lips. She kissed each of his knuckles as delicate as a piece of glass. All the while, she watched his eyes follow her lips along every knuckle, gentle caress of her pouty bottom lip against his thumb.

He gulped.

Hermione swallowed back her grin. "I want to hear it from you. Tell me that I own the Draco Malfoy in all his resounding glory."