Renegade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

IV.

He never would have imagined that kissing Hermione Granger, of all people, would actually be so...interesting.

The first time that their lips touched, Draco had frozen, and the following thoughts had simultaneously crossed his mind:

1. There is a Mudblood on my lips.

2. What the hell am I doing?

3. After all this is done, I am going to fucking disown myself.

As the kiss deepened, as she insisted that a peck on the cheek or a simple smack on the lips would never make the mistletoes disappear, a new thought crossed his mind.

4. Hermione Granger was actually a pretty good kisser.

It wasn't that he'd never kissed girls, in fact he'd kissed a fair share of them. But they were all too safe, too bland, too boring for him. It seemed that even for kissing, Hermione had done her homework.

He liked the way she explored his mouth and even tried to control him, as if she didn't care what he thought of her. Most girls that Draco had dated were conservative with him. The Pureblood girls had families that raised them to think that a Malfoy (or any wealthy Pureblood) would want a girl that no man had touched before.

In his case, they were wrong.

Draco liked the feeling of being 'chosen' from a pile of other men. He liked the idea that the woman he would choose had been through plenty of guys, but in the end, he would be deemed the best. It was odd, but that was what he liked.

Kissing her felt different. She kissed with a passion. And all this wasn't real—it was just to make the stupid door open. He wondered what it would feel like if she was in love with him, and kissed him with so much more. He hated to admit it, but it piqued his curiosity.

'Too bad it's all being wasted on a dumb idiot like Weasley.' He thought to himself. Not that he cared. He was just being curious.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, panting as she broke the kiss.

"Nothing." Draco lied.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I know that look. That's the look on your face every time you're analyzing something. See, your eyes are all glazed over. Are you analyzing me?"

"No." Draco lied again. "And how would you know that? It's not like you stare at me during class."

"I don't even want to look at you, why would I stare?" She retorted.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm, and she had to look down and pretend to be tying her shoelaces so that Draco wouldn't notice. The fact was, she had stared at him during class, on occasion. She was human, after all, and a girl, and he was just too good-looking sometimes. She blamed it on her hormones, and how boring her teachers were at certain moments.

She hated to admit it, but she could neither confirm nor deny whether she liked how things were going at the moment. True, Draco was a slimy git who was the direct spawn of the devil. But she couldn't deny the fact that she didn't mind making out with him at all, for purely noble reasons of course. She had letters that she had to send.

"When are all these damn mistletoes going to go away?" He muttered irritably. The mistletoes had considerably lessened, but there were still a lot more.

"When we finish what we're doing." Hermione said.

Sighing, Draco leaned in to kiss her once again.

By the time they were on their 6th kiss, Draco actually stopped thinking about the more unflattering thoughts he had of Hermione because he was really starting to enjoy himself.

With each kiss, they went further and further, his hands finding their way to her waist, to her neck, to the small of her back. Hermione kissed him with her arms wrapped around him, or pressed against his chest. Pretty soon, she was sitting on his lap and was making a few sounds that were turning Draco on.

He sure as hell didn't know why he was liking it so much.

Every time they broke a kiss, he was fascinated at her swollen lips and flushed face. Draco liked the thought that it was his handiwork that did it to her.

She really was unlike any of the other girls he'd dated. She was not afraid to speak her mind, throw harmless and not-so-harmless objects at him, and even dared to offend him, something that nobody ever did to a Malfoy. She was nice to you and didn't expect anything in return. She was independent, witty and, yes, a little pathetic and thick-headed sometimes.

It was all so strange, how he wanted her but refused to like her at the same time.

Three hours later…

Hermione moaned as Draco's lips trailed down to her neck, his fingers already working their way into her blouse.

"Say no to me." He whispered into her ear.

"No." She replied unconvincingly, as she pulled him closer to her. She wanted him to touch her too badly.

"Tell me to stop." He said huskily, his eyes filled with lust.

"Don't." She said, breathlessly, and she pulled him into a kiss.

Draco was mad with need. He couldn't think straight anymore. He had lost most of his control and was more than ready to have his way with Hermione Granger. He didn't know why he was so intoxicated with her. Maybe it had just been too long since he'd had any.

"Malfoy." She whimpered, and the look in her eyes was more than enough to drive him wild.

He pushed her against the door, his fingers sliding up her front. She could feel his need pressing against her thigh.

Suddenly, the entrance of the Great Hall swung open, and Draco and Hermione fell to the floor.

"I needed that bump on the head." Draco muttered, his arms still around Hermione.

"No one ever told me you were a gentleman." She said, appreciating the fact that he had cushioned her fall.

"I didn't do it on purpose." He said, although it was rather obvious that he did.

She sighed and stood up, offering her hand to him. He didn't take it, and stood up on his own.

"Time to go."

They walked back together in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"Were you sorry that you had to go through that?" She asked him.

"Maybe." He told her.

"If you were given a chance, would you do it again?" She pressed.

Draco gave her a look.

"Maybe." He said. Hermione smiled.

"What if I told you that I'd do it with you?" She told him seductively, cornering him against the wall. For a moment she thought she saw his eyes burn for her, but it could just have been the light. He smirked.

"I'm not that desperate." He said, and Hermione smacked him on the chest.

Following the event in the Great Hall, Draco was considerably more relaxed around her, although they still didn't talk much. It was still awkward. He was a Slytherin, she was a Gryffindor. He was supposed to be her enemy, they were supposed to dislike each other. But neither could forget their three-hour long marathon of kisses.

They had settled into a comfortable routine as they were the only ones around Hogwarts, and there was no one around to judge them. Draco would jog in the morning, and return to the room where Hermione would have breakfast ready for him. They would eat in silence, then go about doing their own thing (he would read the paper or solve puzzles, she would read books) until it was time for lunch. That's when they would sneak off to go to Hogsmeade, eat out, and walk around until it got dark.

They never really talked to each other when they went out. It was more for them not to be alone than for them to be together, so it surprised her when Draco asked her if she wanted to visit his home with him all of a sudden.

"What are we going to do there?" She asked. Something in his voice had told her that it was important to him.

"I wish to show you something." He told her. His eyes were unreadable as he said it.

She agreed.

Normally, students who stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays weren't able to leave, but Draco was rich enough to have his own way. They were at his house in a few hours, and Hermione had to catch her breath when they arrived.

The manor was huge, and beautiful. But there was a certain sadness about it, like it was empty, devoid of life.

"Are your parents home?" She whispered.

She didn't know if he heard her, because he didn't reply.

"This way." He said, walking over to the gardens and into a small structure that looked a bit like a temple. Hermione had never seen anything like it.

She followed Draco into the room, which was decorated with flowers and incense. There was a huge portrait of a beautiful woman inside, who kind of looked like…

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"She was the only one I really cared about in this world." He said, wistfully. There were tears staining his cheeks, although he showed no indication that he was crying.

He looked up at the portrait, and Hermione could do nothing but try to comprehend what had happened. Was this the reason why he had gone for three days?

"I haven't told anyone what had happened." Draco said, his voice full of remorse. "I didn't know who to tell. I'm sorry it had to be you, but I really had to get it off my chest. I just want someone else to know."

Hermione's heart ached for him. She understood how hard it must have been for him to keep all of this inside. She was shocked that nobody knew about it. It wasn't in the papers, or anything.

"How did she die?" Hermione asked.

Draco was silent for a moment, and she could see that he was trembling with rage.

"She never loved her husband." He said, his voice shaking. "She only stayed with him for me, because of me. He threatened her that he would kill me if she didn't obey him. But she had had enough one day. She tried to break away from him. She tried to resist the spell that he had on both of us."

Draco paused, and Hermione could see the anguish on his face.

"He killed her for her treason. He didn't even use magic. I came home to find him beating her up, and hitting her repeatedly with a chair. I rushed her to the hospital, but she didn't make it."

Hermione remembered the way had Draco looked for the longest time—his bloodshot eyes, his blank looks. She had wondered what had been eating at him with so much pain, but she would never have guessed that it was the tragic death of someone he loved. She was glad that she stayed for the holidays. Who knew what would have happened if she had left him alone to his suffering?

"I'm sorry I had to ask that." She told him sincerely.

"No, I'm glad that someone knows the real story." He said. "He covered everything up, even though I witnessed against him and he got sent to Azkaban for three lifetimes."

Hermione didn't know what to do. So she did the only thing that she felt was appropriate.

She stepped closer to him and pulled him into a hug. He was taken aback at first, but when she didn't let go, he let her hold him.

He pulled away from the hug after a minute, his eyes unreadable. Hermione knew that he wasn't used to other people's affection. But she knew that when someone hurt, it was a good thing to hug them.

"Let's go." He said, as he took one final look at the grave of his mother, Narcissa Malfoy.

Not going to see you in a while, too many exams X_X I'll try to write again soon.