A/N: Thank you all that are reading along at home. Your wonderful words of encouragement make this writing worthwhile. I do this for your guys. I do not own these characters; I am not making any money off this. It is all for your entertainment and my pleasure. If you like drop a review…

Chapter Ten

Her tongue on his face had almost been too much. Never would he fathom such ferocity from such a small creature. He had pushed her and insulted her. He should be ashamed and embarrassed.

But he wasn't.

The look in her eyes, the swirling storm of lust and shame that overcame her when she tasted him had his nails cutting into the palm of his hands.

His cock was rock hard as it tried to break through the placket of his trousers.

He wanted this witch. He wanted to bruise and mar her silken skin with his fingers. He wanted to sooth those bruises with his tongue with his soul. He wanted to shatter her to pieces then rebuild her in the same exact image because she was perfect.

It wasn't the bond.

It wasn't the magic.

It was more.

She was everything he wasn't. She was not all light and goodness. There was darkness in her that called to the darkness within him. It was deeper that the marrow in his bones. It was a siren call that kept him awake in the night bruising his cock with ragged strokes as he tried to reach the shore. Tears filled his eyes as his climax eluded him night after night, nothing else will do. It had to be her. He needed to bury himself to the hilt in her and tattoo her womb with his seed.

He pulled his wand from its holster and pointed it at her "Legilimens!"

She put up no defenses, she was an open book for him to read, and its pages beckoned his inspection. New images assaulted him. Dreams mixed with nightmares as she fisted her bed sheets. Her legs splayed open, her sex open for his eyes…only his, there was no other. Not the red headed one or the wretched chosen one. It was his robes, the scent of his skin, the touch of his hands that excited her; the sound of his voice as he condemned her and berated her that drove her to the brink. She didn't want to change him; she didn't want to save him. He was both her salvation and her damnation. She would happily burn for just a moment, a second of pure ecstasy. There was no shame, she allowed him to watch as she teased and fucked her quim with her clumsy hands. The images made him want to lean in and flick the hardened nub with his tongue, to once again taste what was his alone. It called out to him but it was just a memory, a passing moment. She could feel his arousal in her mind. He heard her confessions to the priest, her darkest secret of all. He saw her battle with her beliefs, with the feelings that only grew more profound and powerful with every dream, every thrust of her fingers into her body, every scream of his name was like a prayer. Except she was praying to him not for him; she was overcome with desire and overwhelmed with confusion.

He released the connection and staggered back towards the hearth.

She was untouched.

Pure as new fallen snow, it excited him and disgusted him all in the same breath.

"How?"

She didn't answer him. Her mind was still on fire from his invasion. Until that moment it had been the most intimate they had ever been. The moment in the woods by the school was nothing compared to the intimacy of feeling his mind inside hers, watching her memories like a lecherous voyeur, her innermost secrets bared for him alone. She panted and felt the magic course through her as she fought to find her voice.

"You know why."

"Your silly notion of God, was it? Did you think he would be watching you, condemning you for your actions should you bed a man before marriage? How ridiculous!"

"It was what I was raised to believe; it was what I believed in."

He turned to face her; he didn't want to look at her. Her skin was glowing from the heat of the room. The dusting of freckles on her nose made her look like the young innocent bought to sacrifice at the altar of a monster. Without her outer robe he could see the swell of her breasts through the white blouse that clung to her moist skin. He struggled to maintain control.

He closed the distance between them and looked down at her. He didn't touch her. Her nipples strained against the blouse to reach him, he kept far enough away where they could only graze the front of his shirt. Anything closer and he would be unable to control his treacherous body.

"And what do you believe in now Miss Granger?"

He knew she could feel his breath on her hair and face. She looked up to him and gazed as if looking upon a fallen angel sent to answer her prayers or condemn her to hell.

"Y-you know."

"Tell me!" he screamed at her he stepped away. He needed her to tell him. Confirm what he had seen, confess her true nature.

She remembered learning to pray as a child. The humble act of kneeling in supplication and praying for what you wanted.

If only it was that easy.

Maybe it could be.

She felt rather than heard his sharp intake of breath as she fell to her knees. The rough hardwood floor was unforgiving on her tender flesh. She looked up at him and saw him grab at his hair and rub his jaw as he struggled with what he was watching. She could see the affects it had on him, the straining of his flesh beneath his trousers.

He dropped to his knees before her and grabbed at her arms again. Her face shot up to look at him, to gaze upon his features. He was beautiful in his madness, in his desperation. She wondered what she looked like to him.

"Is this what you want, for me to fall on my knees before you?" He ran his hands up her arms and buried his fingers in her hair as he pulled her closer to him. His movements were rough and unpracticed and she could feel the trembling of his body. His mouth against her cheek he spoke, his words severe, laced with yearning and wrapped in vitriol that was uniquely his. "Do you know what I want Hermione?" He didn't let her answer, she couldn't move. His mouth and face pressed against her cheek coupled with his fingers entwined in her hair had complete control of her.

"I want to tear through you like a storm. I want to cleanse my demons with your tears of pleasure and pain. You unman me and I am not ready or sure that I will survive being a slave to another master. To the cruelest master of all." He pulled back and looked upon her like a man starved. She could feel his saliva on her face mingling with her sweat. He still hadn't released his hold on her hair. He simply looked at her, through her. Time no longer existed.

She raised her hand slightly and he flinched like a wounded animal. Dropping his hands to his side he watched her hand move to rest softly on the space right above his heart. Her touch was tentative, cautious. He released a jagged breath that shook his body as her hand touched the skin visible at the opening of his shirt. Still his eyes watched her, hungrily devouring every detail of her face. Beneath her fingertips she felt the course hair of his heated chest and the pale skin she wanted to worship with her mouth.

He was so much larger than she was; his presence dominated the whole of the room. He was larger than life, a god amongst men.

He was her god.

He pushed her hand away and tore her blouse open. The buttons scattered and fell to the floor, never to be seen again. His hands were not tender as he grabbed her lace covered breasts. His head dipped and his tongue darted out to taste the beads of sweat that had gathered at the crux of her breasts as his deft fingers pulled at her hardened nipples

"Every time you are near me I feel like I am drowning, I am suffocating," his voice dark and guttural. He buried his face in her breasts and breathed her in. His tongue drew patterns of ownership over her collarbone and neck. Her head fell back in abandon. She clutched at his shirt, trying to keep from falling into the abyss. She wanted to feel him closer to her. One hand moved behind her neck while he desperately pulled her skirt up and dragged his fingers along the outside of her thigh. Her throat closed up as she felt his mouth at her ear and his hand grasping the plump flesh of her arse.

"I cannot be gentle. You have broken me. From the moment I buried my face in your cunt your scent was emblazoned on me." He bit down on the soft flesh of her neck as his hand ripped the knickers from her body. The sound of the material ripping was deafening. The warmth of the room caressed her already sodden sex. The same hand that had ripped the undergarments from her quivering flesh came up to rip the lace material covering her breasts. Looking down at her he dipped his head slowly, nuzzling the exposed skin with his face and hair. Her hands moved as little as they could from her restricted position on her knees to lightly graze the arm holding her neck. She held onto his wrist where the bands swirled as if a living entity. Her own wedding bands were pulling her towards him; they were alive with passion and hunger. His other hand had moved back to trailing a path to her arse again and he squeezed her hard, the feeling a sharp contrast to the soft caresses from his face on her breasts. His hand moved to the newly exposed flesh of her sex. Her thighs seemed to part as if by design, without effort or thought. He raised his head and looked at her with a hunger that could only be described as feral. She could feel the tentative caress against the small thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs. If it had not been for his hand at her neck she would have collapsed from that slightest of touches. He pulled her face closer to his, her forehead against his; she felt his long finger masterfully make its way inside her. As his finger filled her they both struggled to catch their breath. He began to leisurely move his digit within her. A hiss of pleasure escaped her mouth as his thumb caressed the hardened nub of her sex. Her hips began to move against his hand as two fingers now began to move in and out of her while his thumb worked circles of pleasure against her clit.

"Is this what you wanted witch? Those nights that you touched yourself, it was my fingers that you imagined."

She couldn't answer, what little awareness she had left had fled her in a sea of sensation. He pulled his head away from hers and roughly sucked her nipple into his mouth while his fingers moved faster and harder, her walls beginning to tighten around the invading digits. His mouth and hand worked in tandem, taking her further beyond this place where they knelt on the floor. His teeth bruised her nipple as his tongue soothed the flesh. There was no pain without pleasure. Words and thoughts were gone; images flooded her consciousness as the feelings grew and morphed within her. She was standing at the shore, the waves moving her body to and fro and with every pull there was a push and soon she knew the tide would pull her under its raging waters. She was drowning, the sensations crushing the air from her lungs. She shook and struggled as she rose higher out of the ocean of feeling and his name was ripped from her being. Her salvation found at his hand and mouth.

It was only then that he stilled his movements, that he loosened his grip. She saw the dark wet spot on his trousers and new he had been on that shore as well. The fingers that had been buried within her found a new home in the warm cavern of his mouth as he purred in his possession of her. He stood and pulled her limp body into his arms and carried her off to another room.

Cool sheets met her heated skin as he laid her down. She fought to keep her eyes open, to look upon her savior, her husband, but there was little strength left in her. She felt the dip of the bed as his body joined hers. They could only whisper one word before sleep claimed them both.

"Wife…"

"Husband…"