Old Fashioned

Day 2

Hermione made sure to take time out of her day to sit at her vanity, each morning and each night.
While it had at first only been bought to fill the empty wall in the bedroom, it had quickly become a way for her to relax. To allow herself to think about what she needed to get done, every morning, and what had happened at work, every night.

She always ended up in a trance-like state as she removed her make-up with wipes, the muggle way as Ron used to point out amused, and removed her earrings and any hair accessories.

She would watch herself in the mirror, not really following any train of thoughts, barely realizing she was thinking at all.

But this night, after the opera, her head was swirling with thoughts.
Thoughts of him.
Hermione was analyzing every single word he had said, she had said, almost afraid that she had made a fool of herself.
Though she kept telling herself that she only felt that way because he had such a presence about him that she was unable to feel like less.
It was an unpleasant thought, one that she pushed far into the back of her mind, going back to thinking about everything that she had memorised about him.

The way he had moved his hands, his elegant fingers pointing as he spoke of something to do with the play. Hermione figured she would fantasize about those fingers for a long while to come.
His smell, the way it had lingered even after he had left, leaving not only the impression he had left on her but also his perfume.
The way his plump lips had moved with each word he spoke, ever so carefully pronounced like he didn't want to mess up anything that he said to her; the thought made her tingle all over.
The way his breath had hit her face when he had leaned in closer, it had been cool and smelt minty, making her eyes burn, though she didn't want it to stop.
His hair and the way it had fallen into his face, making her wish that she was allowed to reach out to brush it away, to touch his hair, to feel if it was a soft as it looked; to grip it tightly, yanking on it, pulling him in closer, making him swallow hard or even gasp.

Merlin, she longed to hear him gasp.

The noises she could make him make; it made Hermione’s abdomen go up in flames.
The way his deep voice had spoken to her, made her wonder just how raspy his voice could get. How it would sound gasping out as she rode him, or how beautifully he would moan.
How his perfect skin would be covered in sweat as he held on tightly to her hips as she moved against him slowly at first, only going faster when he asked her to.

Hermione clenched her thighs together and quickly pulled the rest of the pearl hair clips from her hair, to get up and stretch to reach for the zipper on the back as she quickly pulled it down and let the dress fall into a puddle at her feet. Shew s quick to move further to the bed only stopping to lower her panties to the floor as well, leaving a short trail behind her.

She climbed onto the bed and moved to lay in the middle, letting out a deep breath as she felt herself relax into the cotton sheets below her.

She was uncertain where to start. It was not like she had never touched herself, in fact, she had done so quite often when she was younger. Before they had to go on the run for a year.
After that, she had, had a very low sex drive, especially after the torture.

And since Ron and she were busy often and only really found time to fall into each other's arms when they fell asleep each night, it hadn’t come up often and she had been happy with how things had evolved between them.
Ron always respected her boundaries and she could not have wished for more.

Though now, she felt hungry. Hungry for the man with the long slender fingers which she wished would caress her neck carefully, his breathing whispering over her ear as he leaned in close to whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

She let her own hands slowly move to her neck and let her fingers follow the curve down to her collarbones.
Moving further down to her exposed breasts she let her fingers curve over her nipples carefully.
She imagined how he would only touch her with careful touches, not letting her feel too much pleasure until she was breathing heavily and looked up to him with clouded eyes, silently begging him to touch her; touch her harder, as hard as he wished.

She imagined how his fingers would then finally move to slowly roll her nipples between his fingertips and Hermione's fingers followed her imagination.
A small gasp escaped her at the sensation.

His warm fingertips would squeeze tighter, looking at her with that cocky smirk on his red lips, as he listened to her heavy breathing.

His hands would then move down her body, tightening on her waist a tight squeeze which would make her breathing stop.
His hands would move lower moving past her core, not giving her what she wanted, instead of gripping her legs, spreading them while still holding them tightly.
His big hands would almost be able to wrap around her bony thighs. He would move back as he glanced up to her as he saw how wet she was, giving her another arrogant smirk as his hands moved further up to her core.
He would slowly move along her swollen lips, never quite touching her in the way she wanted.

Hermione's hands followed each movement that she imagined, teasing herself as she let her hands wander.
His hands would then finally move in closer slowly rubbing his thumbs over her wet lips.

His thumb slipped further into her slit as he gave her a long stroke.
Gasping at both the thought and the sensation she squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

He would switch his thumb for two of his fingers, slowly gliding them through her slit. Every time his fingers would brush over her clit her legs would jump at the sensation.

She would wait impatiently until he would finally let his finger slowly circle her clit.
Careful at first but then getting stronger with each shaky breath she gave, each small gasp she gave him, he would go quicker until she would be a panting mess.

Her own fingers circled her clit quicker, harder. She heard small wet noises coming from her core as her fingers moved with a passion she did not know she possessed.
The noises were only fuelling her on to go faster, just like she imagined he would love the sounds that he could make happen with every movement of his fingers.

Hermione felt a coil start to build in her stomach.
She imagined herself telling him that she was about to come, that she wanted to come so badly, that she needed to come.
The pleasure was the only thing in her mind as she imagined his pale face watching her, cocky expression ever-present; wanting to watch Hermione Granger fall apart at his hands.
She decided right then and there, in the high of the approach of her orgasm, that she wanted nothing more than to come undone at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

The coil grew with each frantic movement of her wrist, her gasps filled the air.
Hermione came with a loud squeal, trying to stop herself from being too loud, heavy pants continued as she let her fingers slowly lose their rhythm as she came down from her high.
The pale, cocky face she had been imagining, vanished from her mind, leaving her head blissfully empty and satisfied.

The room felt heavy with the problems that Hermione was unwilling to think about.
Instead, she rolled over, without ever opening her eyes. She would take care of any thoughts or regrets that may come, in the morning.

-

The morning came late.
The sun was already out, shining brightly into the room she had decorated with Ron.
The townhouse, they had bought felt empty, like it had since Ron had left her here alone.

She got up as soon as she had woken up, without getting dressed, she didn’t want to stay in the bedroom, which felt filthy in a way.

She had sat on the kitchen counter, unwilling to sit at the long table in the dining room that Ron had picked out, with the thought that they could invite friends and family over.
It was too large to eat at by herself, without feeling like it was swallowing her whole.

As she was sat on the counter, chewing on her toast she thought about her fantasies that had taken over last night.
She concluded that fantasizing was healthy.
Often married couples got bored of each other, thinking that they could not fantasise about others, when in reality it was only natural.
She figure Ron was fantasizing about other women, wherever he was right now.
And she was hardly angry about that, knowing he wouldn't act on it; and neither would she.

Her thought process was interrupted by a large owl flying through the big open window.
The owl landed on the counter next to her, dropping a paper roll as it looked at her with big yellow eyes.
It was not uncommon to get the post, of course, however, the size of the animal startled her, since this was no normal postal owl.

She reached for the roll, careful not to scare the animal into attacking her, though it only looked at her with a tilted head and big eyes, clearly waiting for her to open the letter.

The roll was heavy from the thick paper. A deep red silk ribbon was wrapped around it and attached to that was a small white envelope that had a small card inside with her name written beautifully.

She pulled the expensive-looking ribbon from the paper and unrolled it. Her breath stopped as she started reading.

Dear Granger,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I write to you, to remind you that you agreed to come to the Malfoy Gala, which will take place in two days and will start at 7 pm.

I told my mother that you were coming since she is the one organizing everything, since it is a passion of hers to take care of the war orphans, and she was very grateful that you would show support.

I must confess that that is not the reason I write to you.
My mother could have easily reached out to you to explain when the Gala starts, though I seem to be unable to think about anything but you, since last night.

You haunted my dreams, Granger, and when I woke up this morning and walked to my study, to find something else to occupy my mind, I saw the silk ribbon.
The universe seems to be mocking me with every little aspect of you.

The silk made me think about your dress and how it formed around your body perfectly. It is uncouth to think these thoughts about a young woman, and yet I have to ask you;

Will you save a dance for me?

I cant’ think of anything else, so please save me from these desires, if only to have a single dance with you.

Please, wear the ribbon if you agree, I will look for you at the Gala.

Draco Malfoy

Hermione sat there on the counter still, thoughts flooding her brain. Questions and more questions send her brain into overdrive.

It was not that she had a bad relationship with Draco Malfoy, before he had left the UK he had publicly apologised in the name of the Malfoy Family, though he had done so after he had already formed an unlikely friendship with Harry.
It had felt forced and at first, it had enraged her, though the years had passed and she could not bring herself to care.
So what if he hadn’t actually cared to apologise to her, she had never had to interact with him, but Harry trusted him in some weird way and even though she was certain they had not talked while he had been gone she knew that Harry still thought highly of him and would probably also show public support for them by showing up to the Gala.

The letter was unexpected, nonetheless.
It seemed somewhat genuine, too genuine even. It seemed like it had been written from the heart and it made her stomach flutter.
If he had truly meant what he had written, then Hermione had already thrown any thought that she had thought before about fantasizing, being healthy out of the window.

The thought of those elegant long fingers writing her these words made her want to shudder in pleasure.
And it wasn’t like one dance would hurt anyone.

If Harry showed support to the Malfoy’s then her reputation wouldn’t be tainted either.
She could give the Malfoy heir one dance of many and after that, she could forget all about him, and continue waiting for Ron, who she had so longed for, for the past year.

It had been a long time since she had last felt this excited over the aspect of attending a Gala.
As part of the Golden Trio, she had been forced to attend many Balls, Galas and Conventions of all kinds.
The idea of someone waiting for her there, watching everyone else pass, only keeping an eye out for her, to then drag her to the dance floor; the idea made Hermione's heart flutter.

What a wonderful thought it was.

So it was decided, she would attend the Gala, dance with Draco Malfoy once and then move on with her life.