Harry Potter: Among Shadows and Silence

Draco could still feel that possessive whisper at the back of his skull; that need to mark her in a way that Weasley hadn't. He slowly dragged his kisses down the column of her throat, and received a dulcet sigh as he dipped to her chest. When he dropped to his knees and concentrated his hard pecks against her stomach, he felt her tense, and his instincts that she had never had this done to her before were confirmed.

"Draco," she mumbled in a shaky voice. "I've never-

"It's alright," he soothed in the steadiest voice he could manage. "You will like this, Granger-

"But I-

"Trust me, Hermione," he said purposefully, locking their eyes for a lingering moment. "I will not hurt you."

She predictably chewed her lip for some uncertain seconds, before she gave him a nervous nod of assent, and leaned her back against the tiled wall in a futile effort to relax. He carefully trailed his fingertips up her legs with relaxing attentions, before he gently gave her knees a slight nudge apart. His breath teased her sensitive spot, and Hermione choked on a whimper as new and wonderful sensations shimmered behind her navel.

"Consider this my gift," Draco mumbled, before he pressed his tongue against her and relished her moan.

It'll be better than that tacky fucking locket.

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"I guess it's time," Hermione murmured.

"What for?"

"To give you your present."

Draco scowled, but had to fight the amused grin that threatened to betray him when she almost fell off the couch.

After their two-hour shower, they had moved to the sofa, tangled in a batch of conjured sheets, and the day had been spent with lazy conversations, debates and a turkey-sandwich dinner in between amorous intermissions. Night had stolen the skies before he'd even realised it, and a quick glance at the clock in the kitchenette told him it was almost quarter-to-eleven.

It had been far from the conventional Christmases with his family, but it had been…bloody decent actually, considering the circumstances. How could any self-respecting male complain after a day dedicated to sex on the sofa?

He studied her as she clutched one of the sheets close to her chest, awkwardly moving towards the lone gift under the tree, which was wrapped in green paper and tried with a gold bow. He reluctantly pulled himself into a sitting position as she placed the package in his lap and sat next to him with an expectant look on her face.

"I'd like to point out, again, that this is unnecessary," he grumbled, pulling away the ribbon.

"Just open it," she frowned, anxiously tapping her fingers against her ankle and checking the clock. "We don't have much time."

He tore away the wrapping and slowly removed the item inside, his brow creasing as he felt the soft fabric beneath his curious touch. It was a black coat, not unlike one he'd had a couple of years ago; simple and yet evidently expensive with its quality and design. He cocked a sceptical eyebrow and lifted his eyes with the intention of asking why she had chosen this, but she cut him off before he could even inhale.

"It's really only half of your present," she mumbled apprehensively. "I…I managed to convince McGonagall to let you out of this room."

His eyes widened. "I don't understand," he said quietly. "I can…I can go?"

"It's just for tonight," she told him quickly. "McGonagall has agreed to let you leave here so long as I am with you, but we can't leave the grounds and we only have between eleven and midnight, so it's like the whole Cinderella thing."

"The what?"

"Never mind," she shook her head. "Look, Draco, I need you to understand that this is a one-off hour for Christmas, and if you try to run away, I will have to stop you."

The silver-haired Slytherin could do little but nod absently as he considered the witch before him with complete bafflement. He remembered all his previous Christmases and Birthdays, and they were all stocked with materialistic objects and empty promises that had been so predictable and anti-climatic. Nobody had ever taken the time or effort to consider something this…thoughtful; not even his parents.

He could honestly say that the thought of attempting a runner never crossed his mind; he knew he had no place to go, and it wouldn't only take a flick of her wand to impede any escape attempt.

"I am…uncertain what to say," he confessed warily, fingering his new coat and quite surprised that she had managed to guess his tastes accurately.

"I expected as much," she nodded with a slight smile. "We should get ready," she suggested, gesturing to his coat. "Wrap up warm. It's freezing outside."

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Hermione had led them down the quieter sections of the castle with a dim Lumos, but the halls were dead and abandoned, as McGonagall had assured her they would be. When they finally reached the door to the outside, Draco soaked up the view of the snow-silky landscape that glowed by the hue of the almost-full moon. Light and delicate snowflakes kissed his cheeks from scattered clouds that were dissected by moonbeams and a steady breeze.

The crispy crunch beneath his feet roused reminiscent notions that he would have never normally appreciated, as he absently followed Granger further away from the ancient school, realising she was leading them towards the lake as they meandered between leafless trees. The cold air whipped around them and harassed the exposed skin of their faces as they trudged through the snow-snared grass, oblivious to the pair of friendly eyes watching them. They walked side-by-side in silence as Draco sucked in the cold and virgin air greedily, and enjoyed it tickling the back of his throat.

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