Yankee Accents

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

Yankee Accents

Chapter Six: Infidelity

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione took a few quick steps out of the Great Hall and immediately sprawled on the cold stone floor.

"Damn these shoes," she muttered, tearing the stiletto heels from her petite feet. She then raced down the staircase, shoes in hand, and tore through the doors that had burst open of their own accord.

She took a fast left, not bothering the frost that stung her bare soles and followed stone pavement to her favorite place on the Hogwarts grounds.

The rose garden.

She plopped unceremoniously and ungracefully onto the lone bench that squatted in the center of the courtyard, and immediately cast a spell to transform the atmosphere from icy, chill winter to hot, intoxicating summer night. The roses bloomed fully, releasing their heady scent into the air and Hermione fell onto her back and shut her eyelids, enjoying as the humid, hazy air wrapped her up in its arms.

She fell asleep within seconds of her arrival, shoes falling with a loud clunk to the ground, and the breeze drying the tear streaks on her cheeks.

---

It took a few minutes for Draco to find where she had gone. He assumed the rose garden because that had been her favorite escape route back in their early years.

And sure enough, as soon as he stepped through the tall archway that was covered in budding red roses he spotted her on the bench, still as beautiful as ever, sound asleep.

When he had seen her fleeing the hall, something had stirred inside of him, something that been obscured for so long. He had felt compelled to follow her and now he was truly looking at her for the first time in such an incredibly long while. And she was more stunning and alluring than he had remembered.

She was sprawled on top of the bench, her head tipping over an edge, allowing her chaotic hair to pool on the ground. Her crimson lips were parted ever so slightly and she was incoherently mumbling nothing words that sounded incredibly seductive to Draco. Her eyelids were dark and smoky, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks. He knelt in front of her, now able to fully smell the unique jasmine that was emitting off of her. Her neck was fully exposed, bare and illustrious and incredibly enticing. A stray clump of thick, curly hair wrapped around it like a noose, and Draco could hardly resist wiping it away. Her milky-white neck led his eyes to her peaking cleavage that modestly burst from the cut in her dress, which threatened to break free with each breath that was sucked through her temptress's mouth.

He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair before sighing heavily. Now that she was right here in front of him, vulnerable to his every whim, he could hardly contain himself. He sucked in a breath and bit his lip before reaching out a pale hand to wipe away the curl from her neck.

As soon as his hand brushed her hot skin he felt her tense underneath him. He wiped away the hair and slowly and softly stroked her neck and chest with the back of his fingers.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly and an alarmed expression overcame her surprise at seeing him there. However before she could cry out and tell him to stop, he had captured her lips in a full-fledged, incredibly passionate kiss that wiped all other logical, rational thoughts from her mind.

Kissing him was like waking up from a deep, horror-filled sleep. She immediately melted under his roaming touch and soon found herself kissing him back just as forcefully, if not more so.

She tangled her fingers through the angel-silk that was his hair and leaned hungrily into the kiss, tasting him for the first real time in almost nine years. He helped her sit up slowly and just as he was making his way down her neck, nipping and nicking her skin with his teeth, did her mothers voice infiltrate her head.

"... now, you just remember what happened so many years ago. I know how you forget about things and it's not good. Don't you fall under him, I tell you. It won't resort in anything good." She had said this just a few days before and as Hermione heard this, rationale overcame passionate eruption in her brain and she pushed him harshly away from herself, clutching to her heaving chest.

He fell away from her rough shove, ill-prepared for it, and found his bum land on the ground with his hands thrown behind him, still tasting her in his mouth.

He stared at her for a few minutes in disbelief and than anger overcame him.

"What did you do that for?" he asked her, almost spitting in uncontrollable rage.

"Listen up, Malfoy. Just because I'm back DOES NOT mean that you can put your hands all over me whenever you feel like it. I am NOT available, especially to the likes of you," she yelled, in between gasps. Kissing him had left her devoid of air, and for some inexplicably weird reason she couldn't get his taste out of her mouth, or the empty feeling that filled it after his tongue had left.

"It's not like you weren't enjoying it Granger," he retorted, just as nastily.

"That's beside the point. You have no right to interrupt my nap," Hermione said, while thinking to herself 'Although it did contain dreams of you,' "by kissing me no less. You haven't seen me in ten years and the first thing you do when you see me is kiss me? That clearly shows me that you haven't changed in the slightest since I left. How dare you think I would tolerate behavior like that!"

Draco snarled as he rose to his feet. He shot her one pretentious look before stalking off, leaving her alone and somehow empty feeling.

---

The next few days didn't do anything for Hermione except torture her into oblivion. Every time she slept she dreamt of passionate love scenes that involved her and Draco and every waking moment was spent contemplating the kiss they had shared and why it left her feeling so alone and empty.

The truth was she hadn't been kissed like that since Draco. No one else had ever been able to cause her to feel wanted and loved when they did. A kiss shared with others was mediocre compared to what she shared with Draco. When she was with him she was in complete bliss, and now she remembered why it was so hard to leave something she had nine years ago.

Of course all of these thoughts were done on the sub-conscious level. She falsely believed that Draco was a lustful slob who was irresponsible and selfish. She also believed that his idea of handling her becoming pregnant was immature and completely unacceptable. If he were capable of supporting her and a baby on his own then he would have loved to have had a child. However the fact that he refused to allow her to give birth to a child clearly shows, to Hermione, that he did not love her.

And she also felt guilty for what she was doing to Jimmy. Granted they weren't in a typically serious relationship; they just went out and he liked to call her his girlfriend, but he wasn't really committed to her and she wasn't really committed to him. They had sex before, but to Hermione it was just going through the motions; there really was no passion or love behind it at all. It wasn't as pleasurable as her times had been with Draco were either.

When she was with Draco intimately she flew in and out of reality and her sub-conscious, which consisted of stars and nebulae's and infinitely ending tunnels lined with purple and gray cloudy walls. She swam and flew and walked and ran and hurtled towards the ground before spiraling upwards again, all in the same motion.

But things weren't like that anymore. She wondered if it would still be the same if they were together again. Of course she did want to find out, but would never admit this to anyone or anything in her lifetime, especially not him.

And she found herself dreaming up love scenes between the two of them. Like any good, whole-some girl, she had read her score of romance novels in the day and knew many techniques and ways to revolutionize sex. So of course, she formulated every different position and pattern there could possibly be so that sex would never get boring.

She did also, on the subconscious level of course, think that sex with him would probably never get boring. And she was very willing during her sleep to find this out and she most certainly did. But during the day, she knew it would never be the same again.

That is, until one fateful night when they were smashed together under an inn roof, after an immense amount of drinking. Hermione thought afterwards that maybe it was all a conspiracy, but when she asked him later he said that it was complete coincidence.

It was complete coincidence that they happened to be at the same bar that same night, which was cold and dreary and snowy, both drinking off their depression and neither one realizing it was the other until it was of course, too late.

"We only have one room left," the bartender had told them when they had both requested a room to stay the night. They were so incredibly intoxicated that there was no way the bartender was about to let them leave his pub.

"OK, well I guess that means we'll have to take it together," Hermione slurred, doing her best to sound seductive as she pursed her lips at Draco, all the while just sloshing the remnants of her fire whiskey all over him and the wood-paneled wall that stood next to them. They both were both so far gone that neither of them remembered tripping up the crocked, spiral staircase, or sloppily undressing themselves.

But Hermione did remember the intense release and pleasure that she had gotten out of the whole ordeal. It was, of course, muted and diluted because of the effects of the alcohol, but it was the best she had felt in forever. She flew up and down with him, swam in and out with him, and they did it over and over and over again until there was no strength left, and until there was no vodka left coursing through their veins, urging them on.

They did it over and over and over again until Draco collapsed on top of her, still joined at the genitals, bathed in exerted alcohol, and sweat. They did it over and over and over again until they fell asleep through the motions.

And he fell asleep inside of her, both of them breathing the others breathe, hands entangled in hair, having gone there on instinct in the heat and climax of their passion.

And the next morning they would wake to find themselves there together, still inside of each other, in a dirty, one-roomed apartment where aged, yellowed stucco wallpaper curled off the walls and floor boards creaked when even the slightest pressure was placed upon them. And they would find the sheets expelled to the floor, soaked in sweat. And they would find cold, winter sunshine leaking through the grimy windows, bathing their naked bodies in illuminating light.