It was going to be difficult to keep the miracles rolling, however. So far, upfront honesty had been the only thing to bridge the gap between them, but as a Slytherin and a Malfoy, trumpeting out the truth at every turn was going to be problematic. He hadn't been raised to be so artless; revealing his cards was a tactic, not a routine, as it was with her and her Gryffindor friends.
Maybe, though, he would have to adapt. The game would, without doubt, force from him tonight some rather uncomfortable truths anyway; it was doing so right now to Granger, and he wasn't arrogant enough to believe he'd be immune to the same magic simply because he's brought the deck into play. If he volunteered information without a fuss, though, it might go a long way to engaging her trust.
He'd have to take it situation by situation, see what happened and roll the dice, as he had earlier. There might be cause for him to open his mouth and reveal his heart, and then there might be times he'd have to keep his secrets.
This game would be won in knowing which to do at the right time.
"Seven more to go," he said, rolling them back on track.
Stubborn as a Kelpie, she shook her head. "That last compliment counts as one of your ten, so we're down to six."
Fine, he could let that one slide. It had been a spectacular commendation, after all. As she thought up the remainder of the list, she idly tapped one painted fingernail against the chair arm. It was then that Draco noticed her nail polish tended to change with her moods and that the colours matched those bright designs on her dress. Right now, it was a pensive green the same shade as his house colours.
Now, if that wasn't a sign!
"You play Quidditch rather well, and are exceptionally good at potions," she said, counting down by ticking off the list on her fingers. "When you laugh with true sincerity it sounds nice, you have impeccable table manners, are well organized, and you smell rather pleasant on a regular basis." She counted them off once more and then nodded, satisfied at having completed the task. "There, we're done." All of her compliments were rather touching, honestly, but one in particular grabbed his attention.
"It's French. Custom."
She blinked. "What is?"
"You said I smell rather pleasant. It's my cologne. It comes from Paris, and is tailored so that everyone smells whatever they most desire from me," he explained, hopping off the bed and approaching her. She looked ready to bolt by the time he'd bent down in front of her and leaned over the chair, putting his neck near her nose. "What do you smell?"
Her hot breath panting against his neck sent electric tingles down his spine.
This was more like it!
"Go on, sniff," he encouraged, leaning his lips towards the shell of her ear, forcing his tone and demeanor into calm control, despite the fact his heart was beginning to race just by standing this close to her. "Tell me what you smell."
Pretending indifference, she made a rather rude harrumph, not even bothering to inhale. "I don't have to sniff to know I'd smell wet, musky ferret fur."
He tsk'd. "Seriously, Granger. Give it a go." He turned and smirked at her in challenge. "Or are you too chicken to be so close? Afraid my handsomeness will overwhelm you?"
"Pah!" she sniffed with scorn. "Not likely."
To prove that she was not afraid, she leaned forward and sniffed once.
She went stone still.
Another smaller sniff. A beat later, she had her nose pressed against the lee of his throat and was taking deep, drawing breaths in and sighing in pleasure on the exhale. When she moaned in longing, Draco thought he'd never heard a more desirable sound, and his body reacted by going hard and tight. "What do you smell, my princess?" he coaxed, placing his mouth next to her ear, caressing the delicate skin with his soft lips. "Tell me," he whispered, in a dark, enticing tone.
She began to pant, and her hands crept of their own accord to grip his bared shoulders. With a light pressure, she dug her nails into his skin.
His heart began to pound hard in his chest.
"Sandalwood, cinder ash, wine, and…red
roses."
Slowly, Draco lowered to one knee before her. She quickly uncrossed her legs and tightened her hold on him, as if afraid he'd let her go, drift away, and take the beguiling scent with him. Hardly! Even without her hands on him, he'd be right here before her, as captivated by the moment and the opportunity it presented.
As he dropped down before her, her face stayed pressed to his throat and she kept inhaling, addicted to the scent and helpless but to crave it. "Close your eyes," he bid, as he took hold of her arms and pressed her back into the chair. Trembling against him, she held onto him as if afraid to let go. He nuzzled her back, enjoying the light fragrance of her hair and the way the sleek curls tickled his skin, and her touch…god, who knew her hands would be that soft! "Tell me, what do you imagine from the scent?"
"I…I see a dark room, black satin sheets
and silvery moonlight spilling through an open window upon them," she whispered the secret fantasy. "There are embers in a dying fire nearby, and red wine in a glass on a table. Red rose petals are strewn all about the room and on the bed."
Ghosting his lips up the side of her throat, he sighed, pleased by her imagination. "Beautiful. That's your ideal of love-making, Granger. How you see it…with me."
"Hmm?" she asked, slowly coming back into herself, pulling away from his collar. Her grip on his arms eased up. "Love-making? With you?"
He let go, not pushing for more physical intimacy at just that moment. It wouldn't do to frighten her off. Still, he did want to set a sultry tone that would linger with her thoughts after this round was over. "The scent is meant to evoke your passion and trigger your unconscious desires for me," he explained in a soft murmur. "Black satin sheets and silver moonlight…you want me
to dominate you, but you want it done seductively, not rough. A warm fire and wine…you want things between us to burn slowly and smolder before we lose all control and overindulge in each other."
Leaning back in her chair and letting him go, he watched her face drain of colour and the glassy look in her eyes fade away. The light of rationality returned, and with it came her horror. "It's a trick, some sort of pheromone response," she said, denying the attraction she obviously felt for him.
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