Truth
"Miss Granger." The headmistress was at her desk, tiny spectacles at the end of her nose, scrolls in hand. "I find it comforting to know that your house is very fitting for this tenacious behavior. However there is nothing that can be done. You must rest for the remainder of the day. No classes. That is my final word on the matter."
Hermione bit her lip. "Actually Professor, I've come with some questions. Regarding something else."
The bright red flesh of her knuckles begged her to stop the incessant wringing; they were already so tender. Her lips, too, ached. Constant chewing hadn't helped them survive. Anxiety practically seeped out her pores.
There was no other way to receive the information she needed, and quite frankly, it was the worst punishment to reveal to a former Head of House just what a former student now spent her time doing. And who. Dante was well within rights to add it as the final circle of hell.
The headmistress was momentarily surprised. A few wrinkles fell limp at her cheeks. They were sure to stay as the conversation carried on. Then in a tight pucker, a verbal thrashing would come. Hermione knew it well thanks to Harry and Ron's constant mischief. It would be the worst it'd ever been. She wholly deserved it.
Professionalism always paramount, McGonagall gestured a welcome to a seat in front of her. The desk was much more modest than when it was Dumbledore's office. He preferred a great large desk stuffed with lots of secrets. It had loomed overhead those who entered his office as a commanding space, a general's station above the underlings.
Wizards.
At least McGonagall was more practical. She had an organized desk, great size but not overly so, books, a perfectly planned calendar and three orbs of soft light that made the entire space less forbidding since it was the office of the highest personnel in the school. The position demanded prestige.
As for the command of station, the headmistress herself was plenty for the duty. She was known for her firm hand in education. Even her work with troublemakers was known since Gryffindor often held most of them. A glare from those piercing eyes was enough to stop the trouble immediately. It was a quality Hermione utilized in her own practice of tending to the boys as they navigated through years of schooling like a couple of…teenage boys. It was no easy task.
McGonagall was a strong witch.
Not to say there was no soft side to the woman. She had a fondness in her heart for all students that truly embraced what Hogwarts was for: education. Her matronly wisdom gave many students like Hermione Granger a very open policy on their pursuits of knowledge acquisition.
Plus she hired competent teachers. That made the woman remarkable.
Hermione settled into an overstuffed brown chair as the headmistress ordered tea. Of all the things Hermione was, she wasn't thirsty. It was just a way to buy time. Perhaps another way could be arranged so that she might gathered the information she needed without having to admit her darkest secrets to her oldest and most respected role model. However, none presented itself.
"It has been a quiet year at Hogwarts," McGonagall remarked in an offhanded way. "One of the quietest in quite a while."
She forced a smile. "I expect it has."
"That's not to say it is without drama."
"It is a school, professor," Hermione reminded. "A little drama is healthy, I suppose. There was so much of it in my younger years when we had more important things to worry about. These days it must seem a reprieve to have drama about boys rather than terror."
The elderly witch seemed to like that answer. She gave a content sigh.
"What can I do to assist you today, Miss Granger? If a werewolf attack cannot slow you down, I will do my best not to be slow as well."
Headmistress McGonagall sniffed her steaming tea. It was a beautiful blend of aromatics. Lemon and thyme. They wafted in heavy clouds over the dainty tea cups.
It was distracting Hermione's prepared statements. "I understand you were given a library request on behalf of my query."
McGonagall sipped at her tea cup, unaware just how frustrating it was to her student. The urgency of Bavmorda Blatt applied much more than any realized. The fate of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy rested on what was to be said next.
The tea was placed aside. "I did. On Miss Bavmorda Blatt, was it not?"
"That is correct, professor," Hermione said with a stiff smile. Her fingers burned.
"I did approve the request," the headmistress stated, "if that is what you are here about. Madame Pince should have delivered it by now."
Hermione nodded. "It was given to me, yes, but I find that it lacks a few things I am searching for."
"Is that so?" The witch narrowed her eyes.
The Gryffindor courage was abandoning her. She couldn't manage the conversation any longer. It was entirely uncomfortable. McGonagall couldn't be subjected to the very extent of her explicit relationship with another wizard in search for answers from an ancient witch's novel. It was too mortifying! There had to be another way.
Someone else had to know more about the work of Bavmorda. More so, they had to know what happened to the ones she studied. It was centuries ago. Long before anyone alive or dead was even born. But answers didn't just disappear from the world. Information stayed. Somehow.
"I'll admit that I am not an expert on the witch, myself, Miss Granger. Her work was before my time." She took off the pair of glasses and closed them hesitantly. "You know, very few ever ask for information concerning Bavmorda Blatt. I believe only three or four times has it ever been requested from the school library. She is not taught here. Our studies do not include the areas in which she researched. Moreover, the governor's made the information available on request. It is their way of controlling things."
Headmistress McGonagall looked at her with an expectant gaze. For what, she wasn't entirely sure. Nothing of what she had said made any sense in the terms that Hermione sought.
Doing her best to keep her calm, she perched herself on the edge of her seat. "Controlling what things, professor?"
There was a pause where she thought the headmistress might explain further. That was what she was there for, wasn't it? Instead, the witch turned back to her teacup with a certain confidence she always radiated but never so fully.
"Knowledge, my dear. Knowledge and understanding."
Yes, there was indeed something she was satisfied with.
It seemed like ages before McGonagall had drank her fill and reveled in her delight long enough.
"Forgive me for intruding, Miss Granger. I know how you value your privacy, especially with Mister Potter and Mister Weasley as your close personal friends, but I haven't helped but notice that you've taken up the company of a fellow war veteran."
Hermione tensed. "I've befriended many war veterans."
"But you prefer one to many." McGonagall's eyes sparkled. "It has come to the attention of many faculty. They've been under the impression I should intervene."
She'd fought alongside the Headmistress during the Battle of Hogwarts. Battled Death Eaters at the very gates of the school where they both now sat. Both had seen people they'd known for years, slain in cold blood and vicious murder.
Hermione didn't expect to be doubted then. It certainly wasn't allowed now.
"I can take care of myself," she said stiffly.
"You have my complete confidence," the headmistress replied. "I have known you many years, Miss Granger. Seen you change within these walls. You've grown into a remarkable, capable young witch inside Hogwarts and out. It would be an insult to my own capabilities as an educator to distrust your developed judgement. However, I was concerned for your wellbeing. It is not an instinct ever turned off you know. That is… until I received your request."
"My request?"
The heavy velvet robes of the headmistress brushed the chairs as she retreated to her desk to retrieve a slip of parchment.
McGonagall handed the slip over. "Your inquiry into Bavmorda Blatt. I was notified by Madame Pince of your interest and almost had written it off. You are an eager student, always have been. Although it answered more recent questions I'd had. All of them."
There was scratchy scrawl on the parchment. At the bottom was the signature of the elderly librarian.
Hermione held the paper in her hand. "How?"
"Miss Granger. The only ones who come looking for that book are the ones who are under the phenomenon that Miss Blatt researched. She called it the Drawn experience," Headmistress McGonagall stated. "It is why you came searching for answers, is it not? Your recent joining with Mister Malfoy has brought on the experience."
A strong blush burned her cheeks. She found herself unable to look the witch in the eye. Instead, she stared down at her laced hands almost wishing half of them were Draco's. He made her feel so secure in their relationship. Not ashamed.
Quiet fell. It was pregnant with much. Much implied.
She shuddered at the word joining. Godric, it was so uncomfortable to have the knowledge blasted around the castle so apparent that even professors noticed!
"Oh dear, child. There is nothing to be ashamed of," the headmistress said with a smile. "Young love is one of the most beautiful experiences in the world."
"But it isn't love, is it?" Hermione snipped, though the venom was not harsh. "It is something entirely out of our control. Our magic is what brings us together, not each other."
It was just another version of a love potion. Genuine feeling could not stem from unnatural sources. Only obsession, infatuation. Neither of those were things she wanted to experience. The devastation was to be that much more difficult when the feeling wore off.
That didn't touch the fact that she was already in too deep with Draco to ever stop. She couldn't. Not until her magic released her, and the research was very vague to the conclusion of the experience. What happened? Were their lives just dissolved in an instant once their magic quit searching for the other? How broken did they feel without a half of themselves to fill the void? Did they catch themselves reaching out in an empty bed for someone who would never come back?
Tears she hadn't allowed fell anyway, as she struggled to control her breath. But that rattling came to her chest no matter how hard she willed it away. Memories of him haunted her, recalled in succession over the course of their unusual friendship turned shag-ship with rosy light in watery finish. She loved them. It was the taste of freedom and happiness and stability that she yearned for since she was nine years old, an outcast in a muggle world turned outcast in a magical world.
A hollow sound rattled out her lungs, shaking her ribs in ghostly grasps.
Would she ever know that feeling again?
McGonagall allowed her to cry her fill of tears in silence. Concern bled out of her eyes as Hermione tried to hide her shame away, out of sight. No one could know just how broken she felt on the inside. So alone and broken.
But the sadness washed away. Breath returned. It was easier despite the sharp burn at the back of her throat.
She lifted her gaze to the witch in front of her. The headmistress had sloped lips. In her hands, she dangled a white handkerchief. Hermione accepted with a forced smile that fell away as soon as she pushed it there.
"As being raised by a muggle family, I understand the concept is very difficult to process," McGonagall said, lower than before. Hermione snapped her attention upward suddenly concerned. The headmistress pursed her lips together to an indifferent expression. "Miss Granger, our magic is who we are. It is us in ethereal form. Our souls, if you will."
She had to shake her head to dispel the shock. "This isn't a curse, the experience?"
"No, child. It is the rarest of bonding in souls. Your magic found another perfectly complimented to itself so much so that it will not forget that connection for as long as you live."
As long as she lived, her magic would long for Draco.
"So," she shuddered a breath. "All these feelings are real?"
There was a slight nod. "In the purest of forms."
"For the both of us? We both feel the same way, I mean. Draco could actually…love me?"
It was mutual. The connection she felt was the same for him, too. The Drawn experience required a pair of magic sources, not one.
Draco Malfoy could love her.
Oh. That meant, she could actually love him.
But there was no joking on that matter. She did. Entirely.
McGonagall gave the lightest of chuckles ever possible. Hermione looked at her curiously.
"Miss Granger, do you know how the separation pureblood and muggle born came to be?" She asked, again sparkle in eye.
Hermione shifted in her seat. "I assumed it was formed as an attempt to keep wealthier families wealthy, by keeping heirs richer and richer, rather than spread thin between a population. Cut their options and bind them to other wealthy heirs to ensure their exclusivity survival. Muggles do it, too. In some circles."
"In a way, that is true. Miss Blatt's research is what lead to the formation of the term 'Mudblood'. She observed by physical contact, magic could control a person stronger than any other force," the headmistress explained. "It was spread that muggle borns were dirty to the touch to prevent such couplings from ever forming. Pureblood heirs would be too frightened and arrogant to touch a muggle born, thus preventing a bond as strong as the Drawn experience. Bavmorda found that many couplings came from such contact. The long, stable line of magic of a pureblood family sought something new, fresh and wilder in the muggle borns that paired magic so nicely. The ideal bond, you know."
Hermione left the office completely in a daze. A whirlwind of emotions swirled around her body like a waiting lion ready to pounce at the next upheaval.
Her steps echoed through the emptiness of the corridor. She didn't know how long she was in there, but by the unusual silence of the castle, it had to mean that a feast was being served in the Great Hall. Eating was a logical choice. Everybody needed food.
Her appetite, though, was not for food. She craved another thing completely.
Whom she sought was bound to be in the Great Hall. Wizards never missed meals.
She started for the Great Hall, waves of relief washing through her as she trekked closer to her target, but on her way, she was confronted with a figure. It lingered along a wall, watching her with intent. Hungry. The being couldn't withdraw the type of ache it had.
A sharp tingle coursed down her spine, through the slope of her buttocks, right to the spot that ached in a similar hunger.
The clattering of utensils against wooden tables reminded her just where she was. In the middle of a school hallway.
Urgency turned her on toe. Most of the castle would be deserted at that time of night. Her footsteps were not alone. The figure followed. It was just as eager as her. She felt its fingertips drag across her sides as she walked, their needy pull almost stopping her tracks.
The blissful gush between her thighs caught her breath somewhere between a yelp and moan.
The next moment an arm snaked its way around her waist and tugged her back into a nearby door.
It was dark. The air was a dust cloud as she was thrust inside. She struggled to breathe, eyes still blinded by pure darkness, only sounds the mutterings of protection wards and locking spells. There was only one thing she was able to focus on: the raging of her body.
She whimpered softly until her fingers grasped hold of what she really wanted.
Him.
"Are you alright?" It was so soft and gentle.
Hermione made quick work of his school robes. She heard the drop to the floor in a heavy thud.
"Yes," she breathed.
Next came the time for his belt. Her fingers struggled with the smooth leather, unable to focus on just how a belt worked. Her body wanted release more than coherent thought.
She opted for the other option. Get him to remove it himself. Biting back a smile that he couldn't see anyway, Hermione pushed against his trousers were a notable wand rested. It was only half thick than its usual erection. She used the friction of his trousers to raise it more taut, uncomfortable for any period of time.
His hands rested on her shoulders. "Are you sure?"
She groaned. "Yes, Draco. I just want to feel you, inside me."
Her hands rubbed faster and faster. More tension gathered in a tent across his crotch so much so, that even unzipping his fly gave little relief.
"Come on," she whined in her most moany tone. "I can't wait. Let's do it right here. Take me over the back of this desk and just don't stop."
He placed each of his hands against her face, stilling her movements. "What's the rush, Granger? Is something wrong?"
She exhaled. "Yes and no."
The lust wasn't powerful enough to reign over the honesty the two shared. But then again, there were ways to make it fade.
Her tongue raked down the side of his neck in a smooth glide. Hands, eager and ready, pushed through the barrier of clothes to the blissful body below. The gentle hairs atop his pecs ran in a downward line to the edge of his trousers and lower. Memories of just what it looked like stretched under her split thighs brought forth the glassy haze over her eyes. How she needed it. Right then.
She groped at his sharp edges, pulling him close. The length of his body, the strength of his muscles overwhelmed her. Every inch of her flesh covered by his. Overpowered and putty to his own actions, Hermione bit back the waves of pleasure that coursed through her.
Another second, and her knickers would be at her ankles.
"I'm not going anywhere. Slow down." Draco pulled away from her needy hands. "Talk to me."
There was no time for that. She had to feel his magic with hers once more. Being close wasn't enough anymore.
She reigned in frustration. "Make love to me. Make love to me and I will."
Draco's body went rigid.
It was so obvious that her words had taken him by surprise that the cloud of lust cleared which made way for the thundering storm of self-doubt to ease its way in.
He didn't know about the experience they were under. There was no reason in his mind that he was attached her any part beyond his cock. He had no obligation to her at the moment. Just their own experience between the two of them that kept them transfixed and uninterested in other avenues. For all he knew, it was just a fling. An exclusive fling, but a simple fling none the less.
Love was not in his expectation.
But it was in hers. She felt that there would be nothing, no force strong enough magical or otherwise, that could rip that bond away. So let him get scared. Let him run off. She held onto his clothes in a fist. If he fought to get away, so be it; she'd attach herself like a leech. Let him trot her through the halls across his chest if he wanted to.
There was no humiliation left in it.
Draco regained animation. He moved away and pulled her off the desk with him.
"Lumos," he casted.
The blue light barely cut through the immense black. It did expose an atmosphere filled with dust particles.
Sharp edges of his face casted long shadows past him as he observed. Despite the curling temptation buried in their bellies, his eyes stayed fixed on hers. She knew the look. He didn't trust it to be truthful. He had to see it for himself.
She swallowed audibly. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes."
Her heart sank. The experience. It was supposed to be mutual.
He was hers. Why didn't he feel that?
"If you think I'm going to make love to you in this storage closet, you've got your wires crossed about me." Draco's mouth met with hers in a gentle longing that welled up the emotions once more. They poured out of her lips into his. So beautiful and heated. Fingers snaked through her hair to hold her in place as his lips pushed through the entire wall of Hermione Granger and into the soft sensitive inside where a piece of himself was so neatly tucked away. He tugged at it heartily the more gently he handled her body.
She was anything but precious, yet he touched her as one would a newborn infant so fragile to the world.
When he withdrew, a tear escaped the corner of her eye. His thumb gently rubbed it away.
"Allow me," he said with a small smile.
She hesitated, and it made him chuckle.
"Don't trust me, Granger?" He smirked.
"On the contrary, Draco." She laced her fingers through his. "I trust you with the most valuable thing I own."
His brow quirked, albeit not so bemused as he had been. Seriousness was his mask.
His lips brushed against their knuckles. "And what is that…Hermione?"
"My heart."
They apparated a second later.
They landed back at the suites in the eighth-year tower, but not in the room they were used to. It was Draco's personal suite. She knew it was because of the very obvious nature of decoration. Black, gray and white. Most shockingly was a bed three times the size of hers, bleach white frame with luscious black silk sheets and a dense black comforter, even fluffier than those pillows in his villa had been.
Hermione gasped as she looked around the room. It was so impersonal, yet totally Draco in the same breath.
He watched her examine the room with eager eyes. It wasn't until her eyes turned back to him that he spoke.
"Does this suit you?" There was sincerity in his voice.
She nodded slowly. "More than I deserve."
"Nonsense," he said. She was pulled close. "You deserve anything you desire."
"Anything I want?"
Draco kept his face poised stoic "Anything at all."
In all her lust and mind-controlling need that her magic swirled through in harshest degree, the little voices of the old Hermione reigned through in louder volume. It was a chance to ask a burning question. Something that would impact their relationship forever, just at one answer. One.
An answer she had to know but ate at her happiness like a rabid dog. It infected every moment from then on.
There was no escape.
"I want two things then," she said.
He smirked. "Only two?"
"Yes. And I want them from you." She planted her feet in front of his, shoulder width apart. The only show of strength against a towering, impressive wizard like Draco. "Two things."
His expression changed. The dip in his gaze noted just how wide she'd presented herself.
Perhaps he forgot himself or the cold demeanor he was supposed to display, but Draco's fingers pulled at her hand, desperate to twist his hold in hers. It hurt her heart to watch him fidget in the silence. All those insecurities he had showed themselves once more. Gone was the confident Malfoy. He hadn't been indifferent to her reaction of him since the day in the library where he walked away in full assurance that she'd come to him.
She was stubborn then, too. It had been her absolute mission to avoid him. A plague would have caught her attention more pleasingly than he would have.
Neither of them were the same. Not since the start of term.
"Draco." His name tasted so sweet on her tongue. It wasn't a foreign object as it once was to call him by his first name. Malfoy was the boy. Draco was the man. His hand gripped hers tight. "I want the truth."
He made no attempt to answer or to ask. His gaze was expectant of her to continue.
She forced an exhale. "Why did you leave me to go see Pansy? Terry was nothing. I even told you so, and yet, you ran off to find her. Like you hadn't just been with me. I have to know. Did you sleep with her?"
Draco gulped. The question clearly was an uncomfortable one. Although his eyes never left hers, she felt that they wanted to.
Hermione held onto their joined hands. "Tell me you didn't."
"I didn't," he finally answered after too long of hesitation.
"How can I believe you?"
His eyes narrowed. "If I can trust your word when you say you don't love Boot, or Krum or even your stumbling Weasley, then you can trust mine when I say that my only interest in Pansy Parkinson is friendship. It has been so for a few years."
"Why did you have to go see her then?" Hermione was so shocked. Everything inside her head alarmed that he'd gone back to shag his way in a familiar witch. His answer gave her little understanding. "It felt like you ran away from me or something. I thought that…that's why I went to the forest. I just couldn't stand to be around her when you were with. I was so jealous."
He growled. A hand raked his blonde locks viciously.
"How many times do I have to tell you that you have not a soul in the world to be jealous of? Every single witch wishes she was you. Every one. Most will be lucky to become half of what you are by the time their wretched, boring lives are complete. Don't you see? You're better than all. You are the very best."
Hermione relaxed. Her shoulders fell in a sudden drop. She dropped her head and placed it against his expansive chest. It welcomed her back into his embrace without the slightest delay. The one free arm wrapped around her in a squeeze that swirled her insides once more.
Something about him always knew how to do that.
"So, what was so urgent with Pansy?" She sighed. "You missed out on a chance to snog, so it must have been important."
Draco scoffed. "As if there is ever a shortage on snogging."
His hands dropped low against her frame and gripped her butt cheek. She giggled into his shirt, surely blushing.
"It was about our summer holiday," he explained after a gentle kiss and a demanding look from her. "Some extra plans."
"Oh, you mean the restaurant in Paris?"
Apparently Pansy being a gossip was a terrible surprise. Draco's eyes grew twice their size.
"Hermione Granger, the true know it all." He snickered. "What book did you read that in? My diary?"
"She told me, you prat."
"Told you what?"
Hermione groaned. She wanted to be snogging right now. Why had she decided that talking was better?
"She told me that you wanted to go to a special restaurant in Paris, and she suspects you did it on purpose, to prove your point that she isn't so accommodating." She noticed the way his eyes flickered back and forth across her face. He searched for something. But what? "Why? Is there some secret to it that I don't know about?"
One corner of his lip toyed upward. There was a sudden tightness to his grip under her buttocks, stronger than the desire in his eye. Her thighs straddled his hips as he walked toward the centerpiece of his room.
"Don't tell me, Granger." His fingertips brushed against her swollen lips with every step. She bit back a sharp need to gasp. "You would rather talk than do what you've wanted to do since the Black Forest?"
Breath caught in her throat as his fingers reached higher on her thighs, pulling apart her pussy as he held her close. His eyes never left her face. He watched her teeth sink into her bottom lip as a single finger ran along her heated, wet folds. It only brushed against her clit. She grinded herself forward in desperation.
"Touch me," she said.
He pulled his fingers farther away from her aching need. That burn for him was stronger than any other emotion she ever felt. Not fear. Nor danger. Or joy.
She wanted him. She wanted to mark his skin with her teeth and nails and lips like a toy with big black letters on the shoe "Property of Hermione Granger." That was the only mission she felt her mind focus on. It begged her ownership of him, just as he'd done in the beginning.
Hermione met Draco's gaze back with her own intensity. "Make love to me, Draco."
The top button of his shirt had been undone. His white skin rested below, tinged with the slightly pink of excitement. She slid her fingers below the fabric as the thrum of pulse sped in the softness flesh of his throat. His eyes remained fixed on hers as she worked. Two, then three more buttons were undone. His entire chest was near exposed.
Smooth white flesh split with small bubbled marks, slices against a clean canvas.
His breath caught when her fingers neared one of them. Apprehension made his body stiffen.
Draco hated his scars Harry gave him. He hated to see their notches all over his body in eternal reminder of what he'd done as a stupid boy. Just like his Dark Mark, he wished they could be removed.
But Hermione didn't share that hate. They were apart of him. He was only who he was now because of those scars. Physical and mental.
She dipped down and caressed the scar gently with her lips. The small line was smooth, just like the rest of him, but stood out as her lips grazed across.
"This isn't my idea of love making," he snipped.
Her lips stayed the course. She kissed as many scars as she could see scattered across his chest like a quilt sewn again after years of use.
"Hermione…" He growled in warning.
"Draco, please." She whined, filled with sudden emotion that she suspected was partly from him. They fed off one another, especially when they touched. "I like them."
"Well I don't. So just stop."
His hold on her loosened. She slid her way down from his chest back to her own feet again. It was his escape. If he wasn't holding her, he didn't have to look at her.
One thing he hated the most was shame.
Hermione reached out with a sudden burst of lament. Tears in her eyes, she held up his wrist. The marked one. The black ink was faded, but still very much visible with the Dark Lord's mark. It was a mark that very few free people wore. An exclusivity in Azkaban and not much else.
"If you are not a project that needs fixed, then why are there so many parts of yourself that you can't stand to even look at?" Her heart heaved in her chest. "I hate the way you won't look at yourself. I hate the way you shy away from me every time I even touch one of those scars. Because you know what I see when my fingers run across one of those small, insignificant lines or look at this tattoo? I see you. I see your change. I see the wizard you are now, so gentle and kind and intimidating and respectful. Every one of these things," she raised his wrist to her mouth and kissed it over and over again, "I love so much because I love the wizard they are attached to so much more."
He fell back against the wall. There was not even an attempt to hide the shock that he so clearly felt.
"And that's…the second thing I want from you. I want you. All to myself. All the time. I want to love you like somebody should have long before now."
Over the course of a day, she'd been so overcome with love, shock, torment, confusion, and total need. She was given her entire future between the pages of a little black book. All the questions and instability of what awaited her outside the gates of Hogwarts was all so very precise. Malfoy would be there. He would be the stable ground as she started a life as a full grown witch.
But choice. She wanted so much to be his choice rather than duty. It was not his job to ensure her survival and satisfaction just because of the Drawn experience. They could fight it with every fiber in their being if they truly wanted to. There was always that choice. Magic was only as powerful as they allowed it.
Hermione would hate herself for it, but she'd fight against every ache for him if that's what he wished of her.
She fell to the edge of his bed, letting her frayed curls fall all around her face. "There are so many things I have to tell you, but I wanted that one to be the first."
The heaviest sigh covered the sound of his steps. He hovered above her in a long shadow, unreadable and dark. His hands slithered through her hair until they reached the base of her neck. He placed a single thumb over the steady beat of her aorta.
"Say it, Hermione."
Breath caught in her throat. "I want you to be all mine."
"And?"
A rising tide welled up inside her as she sat there with Draco's finger against her throat and the silence of the entire tower of Hogwarts. She was frightened and thrilled at what he might do. He was just as unpredictable as a werewolf and the same amount of dangerous. He was not weak by any means. One hand could clamp around her windpipe and crush it to pieces.
Caution to the wind, she raised her eyes to meet his cool stare. "I love you."
Magic was so thick that it snapped against their skin as they moved. Draco pushed her down to the mattress, kissing her neck, chest and face without the slightest hesitation. His lips suckled their way at her sensitive nodes buried in her throat.
She was locked under his hold. Wrists were held above her head. His knees placed just outside her hips so moving was impossible. There she was, so trapped below the enormous entity of Draco Malfoy whose own touch ignited her fire higher than her thighs.
His desire pushed against her thigh. It rubbed so hard against her flesh that if he'd been atop of her, she might have orgasmed through her knickers.
Their magic swirled together, entwined like branches of a tree, and pushed their essence across the barrier of skin into the very soul of each other. Hermione felt the crashing strength of Draco's love for her just as her dedication to him slapped him in the face.
Framed in a silk of black, their bodies wrapped around one another, fully clothed but in full need to be closer than close.
"Say it again," he muttered against her flesh. His kisses ran paths all over her body.
He pulled her top shirt away so that only her tank top laid as a barrier between his lips and her flesh. His teeth snapped one of the straps. She felt full wet excitement fill her panties as the sting turned to pleasure.
"Say it," he repeated. Pleaded.
She'd closed her eyes, lost in sensation, but fluttered them open to once again stare at his beautiful face with more than just pride. "I love you."
A sharpness jutted into her thigh like the mutter of a spell.
His hold on her dropped away. She watched him eagerly pull at his shirt, toss it to the floor and unbuckle his belt with ease. He was so determined. All his skin glowed a dull pink. Trousers tossed away; all he wore was a smile on his face.
The large staff in his lap was encompassed by a neatly trimmed patch of hair. It wiggled and hardened further when he caught her gaze.
She blushed and tucked her face behind her arm. But, it was short lived. The next moment, fingers were running against the waistline of her jeans, the cool metal button, and then the zipper. Her body was shed of her jeans and her panties in one swipe. Her surprise came when the cool air nipped at her pink folds with shuddering grip.
Eyes squeezed shut. She couldn't tell what he was about to do, but she knew it was going to be thrust her mind back into a haze where no thought came through except what to do next.
A shadow coated her skin. Two elbows planted into the mattress near her head. Sweet breath pushed little hairs to tickle her cheeks.
Her eyes jolted open at an ice grey sky. He didn't stare down at her with complete mind-numbing lust. She knew that look very well. No, this time it was gentle. There weren't wrinkles near his eyes nor a twitch in his lips. Draco's face was calm.
Of course, there was a slight push against her opening. He beckoned to come in. The head of his cock rubbed at her folds up to her engorged clit with question.
He wouldn't take. She had to give.
Hermione swung both her legs up and pushed her hips right against his. Then he was there. Inside.
Seconds turned to minutes turned to ages as his shaft slid in and out. Long and smooth. He was in no rush though his cock said otherwise. Draco pushed through her taut gripping muscles, inch by inch a pleasure she felt tenfold.
It was never like that before. They loved the fast pace, bend-over-the-bed-and-shag-until-the-screams-are-too-hard-to-ignore kind of romp, not the slow and steady feeling they both shared now. Every breath was like a dive into a deep well of emotion. She felt him push up farther and farther, pushing her need for release even closer to the surface.
All the while, they shared the same gaze.
There was a gentle twitch in her leg as he pushed suddenly into her opening, hitting that beautiful g-spot with just the right momentum. Hermione pushed out a moan that bordered on scream.
"Do you remember in the Black Forest when I told you I felt your fear and that's how I was able to find you?" He slid his entire shaft out of her warmth.
She laid there, bewildered and yearning. "Yes, of course."
His forehead fell against hers. "There was a moment where it stopped. You were so scared, and then just nothing. My magic couldn't feel you anymore. Just nothing when I reached out. And I…I thought you were dead."
Their noses touched. She rubbed hers gently, soothing what she felt inside him.
He breathed in soft pants against her face for a few minutes before he continued. "I was so sure that you were dead that I might have used Dark Magic just to bring you back. I'd throw all of it away. My freedom, my inheritance, my life. Every shred of light left in my life would be dissipated in a heartbeat if it meant you were safe."
Twisting and swirling, the magic that brought them together connected them once more.
Her back arched as waves of disappointment and terror swept through her. The only telltale sign of life was a faint heart that slowed to complete stop as empty darkness closed in. She felt the way his desperation mounted into a stream of power as he ran through the forest floor, not caring that his shoes were ruined beyond help or that his best robes were left frayed from clawing branches as he passed. And grief. There was the unmistakable stench of grief. No matter how hard she fought it, the magic pushed the rotten decay below her nostrils.
When the feeling passed, she gasped out unsteady breaths.
Hermione was overcome as she wrapped her arms around Draco's neck and kissed him until her lungs near burst. Then again, and again, even as the tears rolled down her cheeks, she kissed him with everything she had.
He fell to the side, pulling her atop his chest, still attached at the lips. His arms wrapped around her body like coiled snakes. Their warmth shared with cool skin. His fingers spread. They held her in place as his tongue thrust itself at her frantic lips.
Hermione's upper thigh brushed against his cock, still erect as a statue. It never ceased to amaze her just how unending his need was.
Of course, the juices smearing against his hips and thighs were just as evident of her own need.
She danced her fingers down his abdomen, loving each catch in his throat when he realized just what she intended to do. There was fire in his kiss then. His tongue dove deeper down her throat as she gently wrapped around his moistened shaft.
The thrill came when she started to move. He couldn't stop his moans, even as they kissed. She started slow. Painfully slow. Swirling around his shaft with her palm or changing to a light grip with only her fingers against his tender flesh. The head at the end twitched as she grazed its ledge.
Draco's hands started their own journey down to her breasts. He pulled at her nipples until they were in peaks. He knew how much she liked that.
Hermione pumped him faster. She allowed her grip to tighten ever so slight. But, it made all the difference. She felt the tension grow in his groans as he neared his end. It was dazzling to watch him so filled with need that he wanted to pleasure her as she pleasured him. His arms were very long, just barely able to touch the tip of her dripping wet but not enough to satisfy anything with it.
"Hermione." His entire body tensed stiffer than a broom. "Hermione, I - ."
"Just let it go, baby. Let it go." She cooed.
Draco quivered as his warm cum shot all over her hand and his thighs.
She, however, didn't know what to do with a sticky hand. It was her casting hand, so using a wand was out. And it was his suite, so she didn't know where a single thing was. Unable to bring herself to wipe it on her shirt, she hovered her hand until he vanished away the mess.