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Description
So this took a good agonising half an hour and I’m so out of practice it’s not even funny. Only thing I’m proud of is I actually managed to get Draco’s hand correctly near Hermione’s shirt.

Anywho, I decided to write a little something to go with it.

-
The Underhanded Haven

They shouldn’t have been doing this. It was wrong, and they both knew it. Yet, all they felt was nothing but intoxicated passion and destructive excitement burning between the two. Every feel, every touch, every heated kiss sparked electricity (as cliché as it sounded in Hermione’s head). Perhaps because it seemed forbidden that made the whole thing alluring. They still both hated each other -very much so- but they were okay with that; because they diverted all that passionate loathing into their wild nights, a silent agreement occurring each time that this was a much more satisfying way to relieve all the antagonism built between them over the years; though more so on Malfoy’s part.

Draco had stopped thinking about the situation after their fifth night together. Thinking about it made him dizzy and frustrated and, ultimately, it was headache-inducing. He didn’t know what she felt about it, whether the feeling was reciprocal. He hoped it was, because there was no way he could deal with anything otherwise. When feelings get involved it would become a troublesome inconvenience (and that would be putting it lightly). Things would just get complicated and downright messy.

He inhaled deeply after he reluctantly broke from their lip-lock, her flowery scent filling his nostrils. His eyes, drunk with lust, trailed over her flushed face and swollen lips. She curved her neck as an invitation. Draco didn’t hesitate for a second.

She loved it when he did that with his tongue. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up from all the tingling phenomenon he knew he was inflicting; and even though she would never admit it out loud to him because it would boost his already titanic ego, he was right - he really did have a skill. And speaking of hair, her fingers constantly long to stroke through those feathery tips. Even when they exchanged a discreet glance outside their haven she always pondered when she could caress those platinum-blond, apple-scented locks again. She knew he loved it when she did that too because she could always feel the vibration of his subtle groan against his Adam’s apple. He always smelt wonderful too. He smelt of light cologne just enough to tease, and lust just enough to make her wilder than her normally composed demeanour. Just then, his fingers shadowed upwards from her stomach and just below the frame of her breasts.

Her neck moved slightly, indicating that she missed the sensation of his lips on hers again. Draco didn’t complain. He never did.

Post-note: This story is now a fanfiction here - www.fanfiction.net/s/9684132/1…

Description
So this took a good agonising half an hour and I’m so out of practice it’s not even funny. Only thing I’m proud of is I actually managed to get Draco’s hand correctly near Hermione’s shirt.

Anywho, I decided to write a little something to go with it.

-
The Underhanded Haven

They shouldn’t have been doing this. It was wrong, and they both knew it. Yet, all they felt was nothing but intoxicated passion and destructive excitement burning between the two. Every feel, every touch, every heated kiss sparked electricity (as cliché as it sounded in Hermione’s head). Perhaps because it seemed forbidden that made the whole thing alluring. They still both hated each other -very much so- but they were okay with that; because they diverted all that passionate loathing into their wild nights, a silent agreement occurring each time that this was a much more satisfying way to relieve all the antagonism built between them over the years; though more so on Malfoy’s part.

Draco had stopped thinking about the situation after their fifth night together. Thinking about it made him dizzy and frustrated and, ultimately, it was headache-inducing. He didn’t know what she felt about it, whether the feeling was reciprocal. He hoped it was, because there was no way he could deal with anything otherwise. When feelings get involved it would become a troublesome inconvenience (and that would be putting it lightly). Things would just get complicated and downright messy.

He inhaled deeply after he reluctantly broke from their lip-lock, her flowery scent filling his nostrils. His eyes, drunk with lust, trailed over her flushed face and swollen lips. She curved her neck as an invitation. Draco didn’t hesitate for a second.

She loved it when he did that with his tongue. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up from all the tingling phenomenon he knew he was inflicting; and even though she would never admit it out loud to him because it would boost his already titanic ego, he was right - he really did have a skill. And speaking of hair, her fingers constantly long to stroke through those feathery tips. Even when they exchanged a discreet glance outside their haven she always pondered when she could caress those platinum-blond, apple-scented locks again. She knew he loved it when she did that too because she could always feel the vibration of his subtle groan against his Adam’s apple. He always smelt wonderful too. He smelt of light cologne just enough to tease, and lust just enough to make her wilder than her normally composed demeanour. Just then, his fingers shadowed upwards from her stomach and just below the frame of her breasts.

Her neck moved slightly, indicating that she missed the sensation of his lips on hers again. Draco didn’t complain. He never did.

Post-note: This story is now a fanfiction here - www.fanfiction.net/s/9684132/1…