Final Friday (Part I)
Hermione honestly didn't mean to wake up so early. But as soon as her wand had vibrated on her nightstand, she had jack-knifed off her bed like she was sleeping on a bed of nettles.
And she knew exactly why...
Merlin, her belly clenched just thinking about it.
It was here... Friday. And lord knows... she still didn't know what she was going to do about the clandestine demand Draco Malfoy had thrown her way before leaving her without even a kiss.
All week she had oscillated between the feeling of tingling excitement that came with having a truly excellent secret and her natural inclination towards shyness and shame.
She honestly couldn't say she was ashamed of what she had done with Draco, for a woman in her 30's it was only fair that she have one steamy affair in her life.
He was supposed to meet her in the same place where they had first... fucked. She hesitated using the words 'making love' since that implied satin sheets and rose petals and not dusty books and hastily ripped pantyhose.
But by Selene, she thought with a faint smile lounging back against her velvet pillows... the man was the most powerful of lovers. A brute even, she thought with a dreamy smile.
There really was no question about it, Hermione was going to meet him tonight. The evening would be perfect since the student's had a trip to Hogsmeade today and she wasn't one of the chaperones.
Even now the memory of his callused hands running down her soft flesh raised goosebumps along her fair skin. Her nightgown was practical; just a white cotton eyelet, but the memory of his touch didn't leave room in her mind for what she was wearing or how she looked. Even now she could recall the silver heat of his gaze racing across her skin... leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
This was the first time she had ever felt something so purely sexual for a man. After all she knew close to nothing about Draco Malfoy; the Spy and she doubted that anything from school still held true with regards to his feelings about her.
She was mature enough to acknowledge that perhaps the man had changed enough in long time they hadn't seen each other.
Perhaps, she thought biting her lip and farrowing her brow that it would be best if they laid out some ground rules as to what was to happen beyond today.
Somewhere off the coast of Sardinia, South Italy
Draco adjusted the scarf covering his head as he smoked a hookah filled with hashish and studied the faces of the men already given over to the sweet smell and the haze of the opium. In the Sardinian night market, they barely stood out. Their dark swarthy skin and gleaming coal like eyes similar enough to the Italians that no one paid attention of the band of men.
The tavern they were smoking in housed a variety of shifty and suspicious characters, all eyeing each other with a mix of speculation and suspicion. Draco muttered a spell under his breath. Producing a small static charge at the ends of his fingers, shocking him and keeping him from swaying under the influence of the sweet poppy drug.
The Ravaldi had been smart, despite intercepting the boy who had been sent to steal the precious manuscript from Hogwarts Draco and his partner had realised that he was merely a hired thief. They hadn't gained any further insight into the dealing of the family and who they had promised the book to in return for their return to the royal courts and the spheres of influence.
The only thing the boy had managed to give him was the location of the group he belonged to, hired for some special work by the Signor Ravaldi the child had bragged. After all it was his kin who were considered the first in the world to hone the tradition of espionage and spy craft.
It had taken Draco a week to track down the band and it was taking even longer for him to gain their trust. Today was Thursday, his finally 24 hours to check in before he returned deep-undercover.
Perhaps he should have been more concerned. These weren't men to be trifled with, their magic was as powerful and unknown to him as that of a mighty magical beast and he had seen their kohl lined eyes lit with the fire of what they called the djinn, giving them powers like he had never seen before.
But in fact, he revelled in the danger of it all. Allowing the sights and scents of the night market to filter through him one at a time. The shouting of the fishwives selling their fresh wares, the shifty goblins that haunted every soot darkened porch and stoop trying to lure unsuspecting children into their gutter home, the mixture of rue, beechwood and mase that produced the distinctive smell of sea salt and smoke that made those unfamiliar with it cough up. Even now his eyes, hooded with the use of the opiate travelled upward cataloguing the world around.
His glamour was beginning to feel comfortable on his skin, his golden skin much darker now... the colour of roasted wheat, his silver hair painted like the sky at midnight and his eyes... he had allowed his eyes to remain their same deep silver. They flashed even more starkly on his new face, giving the men on the caravan a glimpse into his very soul.
And so, the men in the caravan had dubbed him... Saanp , the Serpent. They remined suspicious of him, their star shaped blades dipped in the belladonna of the east ever ready and their dijinnis at the surface. Warning him that a misstep would lead to his death... and it would be painful.
He had had to impress them significantly in order to be allowed to accompany them. His cover story had been simple, he was but a Moorish solider fallen out of luck and having blown through his reserves he was determined to find work up North. He had made it clear to them, seeing the speculative gleam in their eyes that he was willing to accept any work.
The opium had done its work, for tonight the men were subdued. Tomorrow was a big day, the day their caravan would travel to the place that the leader of their group had kept cryptically silent about.
Draco was convinced it was a Ravaldi family compound in Naples, but he had to be sure. As the men began to slowly finish their sack wine and wander towards their portable beds, their eyes glazed and their limbs lax, Draco shocked himself again. It was nearly time. The night market remained open the whole night so his activity would be cloaked by the rushing of vendors back and forth.
His caravan companion, a young boy of nineteen named Shikara had already collapsed with the heady mixture of hashish and wine and Draco was able to slip away quickly and without being seen.
He had two goals to accomplish before he went dark... report back to his partner and good friend Theo Nott for an eventuality plan. A plan that was made whenever an agent undertook a lethal and potentially deadly mission like this. Plans for what to tell his mother in case of a negative outcome and how to recover his body if he didn't make it out alive. He also had to see Jonathan King, his direct boss and make his report to him.
And the second task...
He shut his eyes in pleasure... the second task was one he was looking forward to immeasurably. After all Draco Malfoy never left a lady hanging. Especially when the lady in question was Hermione Granger.
Running into her had been the highlight of his week and making love to her had been the highlight of his life. Hermione Granger at 30 was just as gorgeous, intelligent, sassy and desirable to him as she had been at 16. Beneath his lose robe he felt his body harden at the mere memory of her soft breasts and her thighs cradling his arousal.
He wasn't sure that she would be there, that she would have the courage to take up his challenge thrown over the shoulder while jumping out of a window. But by all that was holy he had to at least be there to see.
Draco had fucked a lot of women since he first started having sex at the age of 14. What! Slytherin's liked sex...
But there was something about the blushing shyness of his Gryffindor princess that had always heated his blood and now at thirty he still felt like a randy boy whenever he thought of her.
Making love to her had transcended every secret, illicit fantasy he had ever had about her. Her skin had been as soft and smooth as a pearl, her scent of orange blossom and the sweet musk that came from their activities were like aphrodisiacs to his senses.
No indeed, thought Draco Malfoy with a wolfish smile... this wasn't a promise he would break.
Hogwarts Library, Friday Evening
Hermione was nervous... what if he didn't show up? It was nearing seven, he should be arriving soon.
She didn't want to too deeply analyse her need to hide behind the bookshelves since as a Gryffindor she took certain pride in her sense of courage. Which if she was being perfectly honest had fizzled out considerably since her teen years.
She had agonized endlessly about every little detail of their meeting tonight. From what she was going to wear, to fears of him not turning up at all... after all they barely knew each other, and it had been a merely chance encounter.
Finally, she had settled on a sweet pink, fit and flare dress that hugged her soft curves and complimented her short stature. It had little ice-cream cones on it and while she loved the dress, she also felt curiously vulnerable while wearing something so girlish.
A soft thud broke into her anxiety ridden rambling and she peeked around the bookshelves she was hidden behind. From the very same window that Draco had left from last time, another man had jumped through.
Hermione gaped in silence... surely that wasn't Draco Malfoy she thought with a slight feeling of trepidation... until she heard his voice... the same molasses deep tone with a hint of gravel calling out her name.
"Granger? Are you there?"
She took a deep breath... here we go.
"I'm here." she whispered back, her voice a soft ripple in the tranquil twilight that drenched the library.
The man removed his heavy scarf, revelling to her a face familiar yet so very different.
Draco had shed his glamour but being undercover in the Italian south for so long showed on his face. Golden whiskers covered his deeply tanned face, making him look fiercely leonine. Like hammered silver his eyes glittered as they adjusted to the light to study her. His clothes were old but sturdy, ripped and stained with repeated use.
He reminded her of a fierce desert warrior; tall and swarthy by the sun. Her body reacted instinctively.
"You look different..." she whispered.
"And you still look delicious." He growled back in reply reaching for her.
"Wait!" she cried out, "Shouldn't... shouldn't we maybe... come up with some rules."
"Rules?" he frowned.
"You see I've never done this before..."
"Done what, Granger?"
"Been with a man... casually that is and so I would feel comfortable if we just discussed some boundaries before..."
"Hermione kitten... I have to return to the Sardinia for a potentially life-threatening mission in a few hours. What I would like is to spend the last few hours of my freedom and potentially my life enjoying a woman who I have been obsessed with for more than a decade. So, either we can talk... or you can take me to your bedroom so that the both of us can enjoy what we're really here for."
Blushing pink... Hermione mutely took his hand. The words 'last few hours of freedom' swirling inside her head like an insidious whirlpool.
"My quarters aren't too far." she told him, "And everyone is in the village right now, so we needn't worry about being seen."
The walk to her tower bedroom was rife with unspoken desire... heavy and intoxicating.
She had never been with a man like this before... fuck.
Draco had finished work with Nott and King as fast as humanly possible, then he had gone to see his mother who was still trying to guilt him into getting married and now finally... finally, he was here.
Despite getting rid of his glamour, he hadn't been able to wash off the ravages of a long undercover stint, but it was when he had seen her shyly emerging from behind the bookshelves that he had truly felt like a dirty, grimy bastard.
She was beautiful... so much more so in person as well, none of his memories could do her justice. Pink looked so good on her, making her skin glow with an inner luminescence that he wanted to capture and keep.
He had nearly laughed when he had seen the little ice-cream cones, wanting to make a crude joke about how he intended to lick her up like one of the cones on her dress but her nervous question about rules and faint blush had stopped him.
And it was then that Draco Malfoy vowed... if he came back alive... Hermione Granger was his. There was not a force on this universe that could stop him from keeping all that sweetness for himself and keep it he would.
His eyes followed her possessively... impatiently. His need for her so great, it eclipsed all rational thought.
She was his.
A/N- Due to popular demand I have decided to extend this to a threeshot. So that everyone can enjoy some lovely lemony goodness during these trying times. Check back in soon for part two of this chapter and lots of smutty goodness.