Author's Note: After over 60,000 words, finally there is some lemons. Be happy, and kind, as this is my first attempt at smut.
WARNING: there is explicit content in this chapter. If you don't like things like that, don't read. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Sadly. I could use the money
Short Recap:
"Murderer!" screamed the male Weasley, glancing worriedly at Luna. Snape had grown to find him rather comical over the years. A complete nuisance, but entertaining nonetheless. Ginny wearily left Luna's side and went to stand by her older brother.
They both stood, blocked from his reach by enchanted bars. Their clothes were torn, dirt covered both of their faces and any other exposed skin. Ginny's hair was matted in the back, where a Death Eater had seemingly grabbed her to take her.
"Yes, yes, Ronald," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "I killed dear Dumbledore. Can we move onto something new?" He pulled out a large brown package from his pocket.
The redheads glanced at each other quickly. "What—"
"I have a special delivery for Harry James Potter," he explained, tossing the package through the wards, causing it to flicker momentarily. It landed in front of the siblings.
"You blimey coward," bellowed an enraged Ron. "You think we'll bring Harry, our FRIEND, a package from you? The person who caused his parents to be killed? The same person who killed Professor Dumbledore?" He crossed his arms and moved the sit against the wall before stating simply, "Piss off."
Ginny looked at the package, at Ron, Luna and then back at Snape. "I'll deliver it," she spoke. Ron gasped in disbelief. "On the condition that we are freed. Including Luna."
For the first time, they witnessed Snape do more than glare. While it was only a mere smirk, it was at least something new. Almost hopeful. "I was hoping you would be the diplomat in this situation."
Buried Myself Alive
Chapter Eleven
Due to the rain, the newlyweds decided it was time to relocate to a warmer, dryer scene. It did not take much to compromise, the two had barely been out in the sun for what seemed a very long time. All the dampness surrounding them, combined with their current situation, had become almost overwhelmingly depressing. Having been trapped in Malfoy Manor for so long, the two of them ached to, in a way, stretch their legs.
That, and Draco had a sudden compulsion to make an effort to help her achieve happiness. He was certain it was just to stop her complaining.
It was not that he was blatantly ignoring the truth in front of his very eyes. Quite the opposite, actually. Something had changed that night. Certain masks and walls they had both carefully constructed started to tumble. True, neither had realized their existence before then. It was a far cry from the Draco Malfoy who had naively thought that a truce with the witch was the only logical way to save his own arse.
Sighing, Draco ran a hand through his hair. What the bloody hell happened to Draco Malfoy?
xXxXxXxXxXx
Their destination today was an island several thousand miles from all their problems. Jamaica. Yes, a Caribbean isle with a large Wizarding population, but one far out of the loop with England's. Most of the witches and wizards in the Caribbean had long come to accept a more Muggle way of life, and were very tolerant of it. Hermione had been their once when she was younger, and was shocked to find that Draco had as well. In fact, they had been there the very same year, within the same week, actually.
The coincidence made them both laugh quickly, before Hermione caught herself and let her face fall emotionless.
As Draco proceeded to ask some locals for directions to the nearest hotel, Hermione clutched their travel bag and sat on a graffiti covered bench, watching from afar. After several suggestions from a dark-skinned, thin framed man wearing brightly colored robes, she saw his face light up. Upon seeing this excitement, she groaned. Anything he would find appealing would surely be very unpleasant for her.
Before his attack on her character, before Draco Malfoy had broken her spirit, things had seemed far simpler. Routine, almost. They hated each other; it was the only stability she felt in a world of uncertainty. After the night he had taken down her walls while showing his own, Hermione felt herself traveling through a maze of corridors.
Draco sodding Malfoy had become her rock of stability, of all the bullocks in the world. Worst of all, she knew, now, that it was mutual. Now that it had been acknowledged, she was unsure if it could be taken back. Hermione Granger knew she was fighting a losing battle, attempting to rebuild those walls on such rocky foundation. But she would sure as hell try.
He thanked the man before returning to her and she stood. "So?" she asked simply, pulling the young woman from her trance and returning the, now existent, façade of calm.
Draco pointed down a street behind her. "At the end of this street, there is a resort which is run by Wizards. They accommodate our kind very well, and we can remain anonymous if we please," he smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. "I told him we had eloped and our families were out for our throats."
She laughed at this, but only let it go on for a moment. Damn, where had those walls gone? When had they been erected in the first place?
As if it were a normal thing to do, he hooked her arm with hers and extended his free hand, and she let herself give into the protection that one movement offered. Hermione gave into traveling this maze. "I'll carry that," he suggested, motioning towards the bag that was becoming rather heavy with time.
Hermione passed it to him after only a millisecond of hesitation and he swung it over his shoulder. Her heart was fluttering rather violently by this point.
They had spent a much longer amount of time in the warehouse than they had anywhere else. In that time, they had more conversations than the entire seven years of knowing one another had encompassed. They had casual conversations regarding life, philosophical debates, each finding that they could teach each other so much information. Hermione held such an array of knowledge; theory, science, Muggle history and so much more that Draco had never been able to fully grasp until her explanation. She was an amazing teacher. Draco, on the other hand, was very helpful in teaching her the lesser known things of Pureblood society, how ingrained the Dark Arts were in the Malfoy line, Wizarding legends she had never heard of, and some very helpful healing and protection charms that she would never find in a book.
Though, their intimate encounters had been brief and reserved. There were moments they found themselves very tired but neither willing to go to bed first. The mornings after Hermione would always wake in her bed, unable to recall how she had gotten there, but certain that the other half of the bed was warmer than natural. Draco would already be up and making breakfast on their makeshift campfires, seeming more cheerful than normal. There had even been a couple hugs and chaste kisses after a particularly enthralling discussion.
Hermione felt her emotions growing for the blonde. Yes, she had... dare she say it?
Feelings.
Hermione Granger was human, so the self realization of being emotionally aware was not a foreign subject. These feelings, however, were different.
As they walked down the street, Draco smiling and nodding at each person they passed, her mind was roaring with thoughts, which seemed to be bouncing around sadistically.
Though she dearly missed her friends, Ron included, her feelings for the redhead she had spent the last six years falling for had decreased greatly. In fact, she realized, seeing him at the Burrow had not excited her like she had previously thought it should have. There had been no real butterflies when they embraced, nor when they sat near each other. The tingle she had felt when their hands brushed passing bowls throughout dinner were gone.
Now, those feelings were coming back. But now, oh dear Merlin...
Draco Malfoy was human, too. In the way Hermione bled, he did also; the way his heart could be broken was just as real as her own pain of loss; he was merely human, and Draco sodding Malfoy had let his walls tumble down because of Hermione Granger, giving her a brief glance into his own private battle with the emotional part of living. And he, like her, was sorely losing.
Hermione must have been making a face, because a second later Draco spoke. "Is there something wrong, Granger?" he asked, slowing their pace and giving her a concerned look.
"Erm," she answered, eloquently. Concern was something your friends should feel for you.
Something your husband should express. Not Draco... Draco sodding Malfoy, she mentally berated.
Then again, she reminded herself, Draco was her husband. Draco was her friend.
Draco sodding Abraxus sodding Malfoy.
"You are so articulate, love," he responded with a smirk.
Damn, there went those betraying butterflies again. Why did he choose to start calling her that?
"Thanks?" she offered before blushing profusely and mentally berating herself for not controlling her facial expressions better, all the while still trying not to lose a battle of wits against her own mind.
He pulled her to a stop, and her heart gave away her nerves, beating so loudly that it was certain to be heard from space. "What is it? Do you have a bad feeling? Personally, I would like to know. Women possess a better intuition then men on such things."
When did Draco Malfoy become less of a Malfoy and grow into his own? When had he become Draco?
xXxXxXx
Draco Malfoy was not supposed to be the one to make Hermione Granger's face flush. He was not the one who was supposed to feel strange when their skin connected.
He just simply was not supposed to feel anything emotionally for the Muggle-born. Draco Malfoy was not supposed to be attracted to her in this way. It had not just started with a kiss, like so many other clichéd romance stories, but with the simple way she held herself. How loyal and strong she had remained through their whole ordeal. The mannerisms she had; how she twirled an unmanageable curl when lost in thought or reading a book, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, when she was in a full fit of rage and her body emitted pure, raw magic that could be tasted.
During their time as hobos in that awful warehouse, the first time she had fallen asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, he could not help but gently pick her up and carry her to bed, carefully placing her down and covering her. He stood there for a few minutes, staring down at his young wife. Her hair was fanned out around her, lips slightly parted and a look of pure contentment upon her face. Hermione Granger was absolutely stunning and without further thought Draco was removing his shoes and cloak. He cautiously climbed over her and got beneath the covers next to her, lying on his side and peering at the beauty before him. Sleep had found him soon after. His dreams had been filled with honey colored eyes and brown curls.
Awaking just before dawn, he found himself still on his side, Hermione pressed against his front and his arm draped over her petite form. Draco sat up quietly to stare at their laced hands, his large one covering her diminutive one. Sighing, he rose, making every effort not to wake Hermione.
The following nights had gone in a similar fashion. He would spend the night with her in his arms, waking before her and making sure she was none the wiser. He was not sure how she would react, especially after his previous announcement during their last night in Poland. Draco had been attempting to mask and squelch any urges he felt to be close to her during the days and reduce the physical contact unless absolutely necessary.
But as she stumbled with her words, after his mention of the out-of-place look upon her face, his mouth spoke for him. It had been doing that frequently, as of late. It had been more than a couple dozen times that he had referred to her as 'love'.
Never had he felt like this, not even with Pansy. That love had been simple. She had loved him and he had been attracted to her. Steadily, his feelings grew and his concern for her was greater than he had ever experienced.
This, however, was such an uncertain state of affairs for the odd pair. He could see Hermione's confusion when their fingers brushed as they passed things from one to the other. From the look on her face, she felt the same... spark. Yes, that is what it had become.
What bothered him to no end was the reality of it all, along with his barely controlled actions. More than once he had to pull himself out of a kiss, for fear of it ending up any further.
Draco Malfoy was not inexperienced in the ways of woman, this was true. He was not too shy to go further. But Pansy had been one of only three women to share a bed with him. There had been the occasional hook up, girls looking to please him and he would return the favor, but only three had gone the full length. As matter of fact, those three had been just as committed to him as he had been to them.
Now, he was walking arm in arm with his wife, whom he had yet to even touch below the collar. And, oh Merlin, how he wanted so badly to trace the lines of her curves, that had been hidden from the world, with his fingertips. To embrace her tightly as they fell to sleep together and nuzzle his cheek into her neck; to feel the pulse point in her throat thumping strongly beneath his mouth as his teeth left marks for her to attempt at concealing in the morning...
Bloody Hell.
He shook the thoughts from his head, but remained worried by Hermione's actions and stopped their movement, turning her to face him, keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Please, Hermione, just tell me your thoughts."
She only stared back, her mind obviously reeling. If someone had told him that, one day, he would make Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire, speechless, he would have laughed manically. But now, he found his own face etched with concern, his brow furrowed as he absentmindedly bit the inside of his cheek and waited for a response.
When none came, his shoulders dropped in defeat and he continued. "I've said this before and I will repeat it until you understand: we are in this together. I am all you have, and you are all I have, at this point in our lives. We are married, and the bond we agreed to create has many ways of showing that things are not well in that head of yours," he rolled his eyes and let himself smirk, but only slightly, as he continued, "Not to mention, you have always been terrible at hiding those emotions of yours. So tell me, I'm sure my tiny brain can handle it."
"I—well... What I mean to say is..." she closed her eyes and groaned. "Did you just call me 'Hermione'?"
"It is your name," he replied.
She sighed loudly, roughly pulling away from his grasp and continuing forward without a glance backwards. Just as quickly, he caught up and was in pace with her; just about walking sideways to prove that this conversation was not over yet, dodging several other people. "I just want to make sure you are okay after all the shite that happened."
Giving in, Hermione stopped and turned to look at him. Her eyes bore into his, the brown and grey mixed beautifully. Without a word, she took a hesitant step forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling his head downward. In the instant before their lips met with a fiery passion, Draco wanted to know how things got to this point. How had Hermione become... well, Hermione. When had not only his mind, but mouth, betray him into giving her a name. Granger had always been his way of showing indifference.
The sky seemed to thunder and fall around them. Her lips were so soft, yet forceful and pleading, against his own. As the kiss deepened, what was left around them of reality slowly melted away. His arms were now around her small frame, pulling her closer and when she let her mouth open he took his chances and let his tongue slip in. All their cares had been left ten feet back.
Suddenly, she pulled her face from his and he responded with a groan. The pair stood, still embracing, foreheads resting upon each other as they breathed deep, panting breaths. He let his eyes flutter open and saw Hermione's eye flare. Except, this time it was not with rage, or hatred, or even full annoyance. The amber orbs, tainted with grey, had darkened to a chocolate; pupils wider than he thought possible. They were full of desire; arousal.
They regained their breath after a few more seconds, but neither attempted to break the moment by moving. She nervously chewed her top lip, which was already swollen and pink.
"My, my, Mrs. Malfoy, I do belie—" he started, but Hermione covered his lips with her index finger, her touch sending a wave of lightning through his body. Misses Hermione Mal—
"Please, keep the comment in between those pale ears of yours," she told him, her eyes pleading with his. Her look only furthered a need he had not realized existed until then. He nodded and removed her hand and took it within his, gently bringing the smooth knuckles to his lips. The realizations Hermione made him feel kept his mind reeling.
"As you wish, love," he replied indifferently, letting her hand remain in his an instant longer. He then added, just loud enough for Hermione to hear, "Just because you're dark enough to be from the Mediterranean, doesn't mean I'm pale." The mask would not fall. Not today.
The corners of her lips curved upward, and he couldn't help but notice her eyes had not narrowed in the slightest bit. Maybe the small things, the hope and the trust, would bring a true possibility for the future. Maybe Hermione would bring the future that Malfoy never could have.
Maybe, just maybe, Draco had his future right before his very eyes.
xXxXxXx
The 'room' they had been given to share was not much larger than an average size flat in London, but, to Hermione, it was the largest hotel room she had ever stayed in. Truthfully, she had watched the Travel Channel on more than one occasion and saw resorts with similar accommodations. However, this was a magical resort; the paintings moved, the books strewn about by the designer always righted themselves when put down, the beds were made by the time she stood, stretched her whole body, and turned back around.
Everything was just so... Perfect.
Not that she minded perfection. It had become her vision of life from the moment she had came into true awareness as a child. But, upon further thought, the bathroom light turning on automatically when she entered during the night caused instant headaches. The joy was taken out of coffee, for it was always ready upon her arrival in the kitchen, with no regard to the earliness of her rising in the mornings. She was fighting a losing battle with automated magic, and it was bothering the piss out of her.
"This is worse than technology in the Muggle world," she voiced a few days into their stay, frustrated and trying to dirty the place with all her might. She gathered all the books at once and stuffed them in her bag, but before she could snap it shut, they all flew outwards and back to their respectable spaces. Hermione groaned. "I hate technology in the Muggle world, and I hate the proof of laziness in this one as well. Automated beds, automated lights, automated coffee. Your lot sure knows how to take the effort out of everything, don't they?"
Draco had been skimming through a local newspaper and didn't even look at her to respond. "You get used to it," he drawled unenthusiastically.
Call it hormones, or simply being female, but Hermione had enough. She stood up and with a burst of energy swung her leg upward, hitting the underside of the coffee table standing between the two. The strength of her kick sent it flying across the room. Dust was all that hit the ground.
Slowly, Draco put down his paper, one eyebrow raised and his lips fighting an amused smirk. His entertainment for the night was standing right in front of him. The air was suddenly filled with a scent he had experienced once before, of ozone and static; it thickened and the windows in his view had fogged with the rapid change in atmosphere. Draco smirked to himself, remembering the last time. It was odd to have experienced something from her which he knew to be privy from even her two closest friends. Hermione had never mentioned it, but Draco had finally realized it was under stress that she had started letting her emotions control her actions. Or rather, her magic. It was raw and untamed.
As if it, too, were electrically charged, Hermione's mop of brown hair rose around her face, the ringlets seemingly suspended midair. Her fists were balls by her side, and her face was rapidly turning a deep shade of red, eyes closed. Without much thought, Draco stood from his chair and crossed the few feet that separated them. One arm slipped around her waist, while the other gently tilted her chin upward. The world stopped as her eyes opened, the flush from her face dissipated and her tainted eyes looked into his. He felt his own magic respond to hers, and the room became seemingly hit with a whirlwind, all objects around them were lifted into the air, pages from books torn out and spinning around them. Both were untouched.
Their lips met with a chaotic crash, thunder booming all around them, the lights flickering violently as her mouth opened and invited his to play. Hermione's hands were suddenly on the back of his neck, while his slipped behind her ear and played with her wild tresses, pulling her closer. Her head tilted to allow him further access.
Draco's mind could no longer function properly, all sensibility gone. The self control he had contained rather well swiftly faded. No longer could he fight the ever growing desire his body made rather obvious. It had only taken three days, two hours and seven minutes for Draco to force her from underneath his skin, just before caving once more.
There had been no signs. No warnings that his life had suddenly taken a turn for the... worse? Or for the better?
Hell, he didn't want to analyze this any further. Draco did not want to contemplate all the reasons that Hermione actually made sense. Their worlds collided violently; as with all violence, at least that he had seen, there was always a sign. There were consequences that led to violence, and consequences from the aftermath.
All that he really wanted to think about was being here, with Hermione, and letting himself take in the full potential of their current situation. The reality, if you will, that came with what they were doing and letting themselves become to one another.
In all honesty, it was far too rushed but neither Hermione nor Draco would be admitting that fact in the near future. Things were still new; wounds still raw and packed with salt. With each other, they stood the chance of healing.
xXxXxXxXx
Thousands of miles across the Atlantic, Harry James Potter was also wondering how things had happened so suddenly. What had become of everyone he ever loved?
Taken.
Every last one was taken from him just as he fully started to let them in. For eleven years he had built up barriers, and the almost seven years of more recent times he had let those familiar lines blur and his walls started falling down. The burden on his shoulders had lessened.
As soon as someone had walked into his life, another was sure to be taken. That was his exact reasoning for letting Ginny go. There was something greater than himself that needed to be done, something greater than just the Wizarding world as they knew it.
It was about freedom, for not just Wizards, but for the world as a whole. Humans, house-elves, Mudbloods, Purebloods, Half-Bloods, centaurs and hell, even the acromatulas. It was a start to a unification the earth had never seen before.
The truth of Dumbledore's need for Harry, for Hermione, and for Ron was a revelation in the form of self-discovery. Neither can live while the other survives. Harry could not have the life he wanted with Lord Voldemort commanding an army of confused and scared Neanderthals. Lord Voldemort could not create the world order he craved with Harry Potter still a walking, talking, and breathing proof of his one failure. His one weakness.
In the time span from the death of his mentor to the moment Hermione, Ron and Ginny were all ripped from his life, Harry Potter had gone from the Boy-Who-Lived to the Man-Who-Lost.
The fog surrounding the Burrow was thick and unmoving, having rolled in several hours earlier as Harry sat looking out the kitchen window. Not much had changed in those hours, the fog had not dissipated in the slightest, and Harry Potter had not moved a muscle, except to blink when it became absolutely necessary.
Nothing in particular was holding his line of sight, but behind his eyes, the rigs and reels were turning. The emerald specks were glowing in emotion: rage, hatred, fear, loneliness... most importantly, love.
He loved Dumbledore; the old man had been the father Harry never had. Someone to care for him, regardless of his actions. Someone who let him make his own mistakes.
But the man had rested the world on Harry's shoulders. He had revered Dumbledore, thought him the greatest wizard and role model alive, but now his thoughts trailed to what had been lost due to the old man's choices. It is our choices that make us, Harry, far more than our abilities.
Hard to believe that the man who had said those words to Harry all those years ago was the same man that had been twisting his life to become some great 'weapon'.
Choices.
It all had been so simple at eleven. Sure, his home life and childhood had not been amazing, but Harry had learned to take his happiness wherever it came from. The day he learned he was a wizard, he knew his life would never be the same again.
But it had not been Harry's choice to be marked by a madman. It was the madman's choice to pick such a dark and lonely path, to choose Harry as the one to 'mark as his equal'.
Harry sighed, letting his head drop onto his upward palm. Dumbledore did not make the choice to set Harry's path parallel to Voldemort's. The day Tom Marvolo Riddle had made his first Horcrux and dropped his birth name, that choice had already been made. The boy who became Lord Voldemort had already decided to do whatever it took to be immortal. To have absolute power.
And it was all quite funny to Harry in the moment. The things he never wanted: fame, power, wealth, they were all Voldemort wanted. So Harry laughed. At first, quietly. Soon, with his scar burning and images of the Dark Lord's rage coursing through his mind, it progressed into full blown hysterics.
xXxXxXxXxXx
The door to the bedroom had crashed open before either motioned to do so themselves. Draco took this in stride, not breaking their kiss while grabbing her hands and tugging her along with him. He felt the bed behind his knees and let himself sink down. The static in the air had not once dwindled or broken, and, just as in the sitting room, all small objects had taken leave from their stations and whirled around them. Lightning crashed as Draco broke apart to embrace the tiny brunette around the waist, burying his head into her abdomen. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss the crown of his head.
He pulled away slowly, letting his eyes slowly meet hers. He felt the corners of his lips curling upward in an unfamiliar fashion, and Hermione mirrored his expression, though glowing much more than he.
"Is Draco Malfoy smiling?" she teased with a cocked eyebrow.
He thought on this for a moment before replying. "Only if I'm looking at Hermione Malfoy nee Granger," answered Draco.
As their tongues collided once more, Hermione quickly took place on top of him, kneeling with a leg on either side. She pushed her small frame against him and he couldn't stop the groan that was emitted. His arms snaked behind her, and, if possible, pulled her closer. They continued their battle for dominance as his hands found the hem of her shirt, tracing his fingers underneath on her bear skin.
It was her turn to moan as his touch erupted a flame of sensations never felt before. Sensing her distraction, Draco quickly let his kisses trail lightly downward from her mouth, hands still stroking her back, so leisurely moving the shirt upward with his movements. The ministrations were making Hermione's core throb and before her shirt had hit the floor, her panties were soaked. The build up was becoming agonizing.
Before the blonde could object, she had undone the clasps of her lace bra and it joined her shirt on the floor. Draco looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smile upon his lips. One hand around her waist, the other, along with his eyes, trailed down from her lips, to her jaw... her neck...
The middle of her clavicle...
Slowly, he made his way around her shoulder... and down her upper arm before ever so lightly stroking the underside of her breast, and it was taking his all not to devour her. Her hips ground against his and he cupped her fully before leaning down and taking her already erect nipple in his mouth, letting his tongue twirl around before letting his teeth graze it gently. His other hand joined on the opposite side.
For a good amount of time, Draco took his time with each. While his mouth was suckling on one side, his opposite hand was kneading and pinching the other. He kissed his way from left to right, right to left, applying most pressure on the dip directly in the center of Hermione's cleavage.
She let her hips roll into his almost rhythmically throughout this process, feeling her face flush from the heat. When his eyes were not closed in concentration, they were staring up at her, half-lidded and full of desire. The tainted gray was storming violently, it seemed, and she was certain hers were alight with the same longing.
"Please, Draco," he heard her whisper breathlessly as she ground into him harder than before. Unable to control his urge any longer, and with one swift movement, she was beneath him. Draco gave her another passionate kiss, and her toes nearly curled from the pleasure of his lips on hers once more. Her hands were above her head, clutching the pillows for dear life as one of her legs wrapped around his waist. She pulled his hips down just as she bucked upward and he hissed, breaking the kiss.
Before she could protest, his lips were back on her stomach and he made quick work of her skirt. As it crumpled onto the floor, his teeth tugged at her panties pleadingly and she glanced at him to see him waiting for her approval. She smiled seductively and nodded. One hand worked down one side while his mouth moved the other, his teeth sliding across her bare leg.
Once she was fully naked, Draco lifted himself up on his palms to look at the beauty before his eyes. "You're bloody gorgeous," he breathed as he took in the sight. Her breasts were pert, not too big or small, they fit perfectly in the palm of his hands; her stomach was thin from their time on the run, but not sickly so, and the hips she had somehow hid so well beneath her school uniform perfected her hour glass figure. The tuft of brown hair concealing her womanhood was neat and trim. He couldn't help his fingers sliding between those beautiful thighs to brush against her heat. He smirked suddenly. "It makes me glad to know that you want this just as much as I," he spoke before plunging a finger into her depths.
Hermione lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, biting her bottom lip. A second finger soon joined in and she felt a jolt go through her body.
"I think—" she started, but was interrupted by the tsunami that overtook her body. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her and only until the feeling had subsided several minutes later did she realize he had made use of his tongue, for he was licking his lips and fingers as she caught her breath.
"That was just the beginning," he told her, his voice husky, as he retrieved his wand and, with a wave, his clothes were gone as well. He leaned in to kiss her, and she tasted her own arousal as their tongues met feverishly. It was the most erotic flavor she had ever tasted.
As if something turned on in her head, she suddenly turned her head away.
Draco gave her an almost hurt look. "What's the matter?" he panted with a frown. He had thought things were going rather swimmingly.
"I..." she started before sighing. "I'm... oh, gods, Draco, I'm a vir—" she stopped herself. "I've never gotten this far with anyone, if you catch my meaning..."
He looked at her for a moment before giving her a small, lopsided grin. "I already knew that, love," he assured her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "If you want to stop, I will concede, but know that if this happens again I will have to—"
She forced her lips upon his and grabbed his backside with her hands, pulling his hips into hers once more. As if needing no more encouragement, Draco put a hand in between them, taking his already throbbing member and poising it at her entrance. She dug her nails into him, as if to say she was ready, and he slowly entered her, stopping just as he reached her maidenhead. In one swift motion he bit down hard on her bottom lip as he thrust himself fully inward. She gasped beneath him and he stopped before withdrawing once more and looking into her eyes.
Hermione nodded. The pain had been fleeting and was overthrown by the pleasure pulsing through her body. She brought her hands around his shoulders and urged him forward. Slowly, he filled her to the hilt once more before withdrawing almost fully once more.
She glistened beneath him with sweat and their breathing became more ragged as he continued with this slow, methodical pace. He grabbed one of her hands and intertwined their fingers and stretched them above her head. She bit into his neck and he quickened his thrusts. Hermione was bucking her hips to meet him and he could barely contain himself much longer.
Just as his body was about to overwhelm him, he heard Hermione's whimper, "Draco," and looked into her eyes as the nails on her free hand dug into him painfully. Their eyes connected for merely a second before hers shut and he felt her walls clench around him, feeling himself so sensitive to the feeling that he too fell over the edge. They grasped onto each other for dear life as the waves hit, Hermione moaning loudly as Draco pressed his head into the nape of her neck. Never, in all his life, had he felt so amazing. The whirlwind which had overtaken the room suddenly stood still, items stuck mid-air before falling back into place.
"Hermione," he spoke, his voice raspy. Neither made any inclination of movement. They continued holding each other as their hearts slowed. Finally Draco rolled off and out of her, collapsing by her side and pulling her close to him. Chests together, she looked up at him with her large eyes and smiled. He returned it. "Hermione."
Her voice was silky and sultry when she finally spoke. Just one word, and he knew he was done for. "Draco," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head and smothering himself in her chestnut curls.
Draco was suddenly whole once again, as he held his wife in his arms long after she had fallen asleep. Her even breaths and every now and then a small sigh of contentment his only indication that she was truly alive. Truly there.
Truly his.
Malfoy could never love Granger. Not in a million years. Even the notion made Malfoy want to laugh out loud.
But, Draco... Draco was in love with Hermione. With that, he curled his arms around her protectively. She had freed him from becoming his father; had changed him from only living as a surname. She had found him, Draco, and pulled him from behind the shadow that had formed Malfoy.
Now that she had found him, saved him, he was going to make damn sure to never let her go.
xXxXxXx
It could not have been much later that the door to the Burrow had opened. By this time, however, Harry was on the ground, hysterical, maniacal guffaws echoing in the kitchen around him as he held his stomach with one hand and wiped away tears that had forced their way to the surface.
"He's gone mental," Ginny whispered to Ron before placing the brown package on the table and kneeling beside the raven-haired young man on the ground, who still had yet to notice their presence. Ron only stood, both brows so high they were lost behind his long mop of ginger, a look of half amusement, half confusion rather apparent.
"Harry!" Ginny shouted, slapping Harry on the shoulder. He merely looked up at her and started laughing even harder, if possible.
Suddenly, his arms flew upward, "Aren't our lives just grand!"
"I think you were right, Ginny..."
"We're all just one big, happy sodding family!" continued Harry, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. "Voldemort is a fucking idiot, you know that?"
"Harry, are you quite alright?" asked Ginny, her brow knitted in a frown.
He took a couple deep breaths and sat himself up. "Now that you're both here... Yes, I am absolutely, positively fine. Want some tea?"
"This is our house, you know," replied Ron as he took a seat at the table, throwing a confused look towards his sister. "We'll just make some after we're rested."
Ginny offered Harry a hand, which he shook off and jumped to his feet, brushing his robes off before taking a seat beside his friend.
"You do realize that we've been hostages for a few days now, right?" asked Ron. "And that we've escaped?"
"Oh, I already knew you were coming," he responded lightly.
"Are you... humming?"
Harry stopped mid-hmm and gave them both a curious look. "I was just reveling in the fact that I am everything the Dark Lord wants to be."
Both Ron and Ginny shook their heads quickly, as if that thought were so absurd. And, at the time, it was. Here they were, after days of torture and captivity, returning to find their friend and the young man who held the future of the world in his hands... laughing.
"Don't you see!" he exclaimed suddenly, his hands once more flying upwards to emphasize his recent epiphany. "'He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.' It has been right in front of my eyes this entire time." Once again he used his hands and gestured everything around him.
"No offense, Harry," Ginny spoke up and grabbed the parcel at the end of the table. "We've had a long past few days. So can you please open this so me and Ronald can finally sleep. Tomorrow, I promise you can share all of your new found realizations with us. But, tonight, I want to know what is so damn special about this package that Snape, of all people, freed us, just so you could have it."
The glimmer in his eyes died as a frown formed.
They sat the package down on the table and Harry drew his wand. He checked for curses, or any trace of Dark Magic that might mean this package could represent a problem. After finding none, to his knowledge, and without touching it, he flicked his wand and the brown paper tore to reveal a simple Rosewood box. He lifted the lid by wand and cast it aside.
"Oh, Merlin!" exclaimed Harry with a groan. "Not you again!"
xXxXxXx
The next morning, after Ron and Ginny had been treated, fed and interrogated by almost every single member of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry was no closer to figuring out why, exactly, Snape had sent him the Sorting Hat. It was a nice sentiment, Harry pondered, but it held no great importance within their quest.
After far too long, Harry realized that he was being a dunderhead. A complete and utter moron.
He stuck his hand inside and felt around, finding cool metal against his hand and withdrew the item. Just as he suspected, the sword of Gryffindor. Well, at least they could destroy Horcruxes now.
Something seemed off though.
He reached inside once more and retrieved a small box, almost identically to the one the hat had been sent in. He opened it. Inside, there were two things: a letter, folded tightly, and a small vial containing a silvery blue substance.
Memories.
xXxXxXxXx
Author's Note: HELLO TO EVERYONE! I decided to repost this chapter with a few minor changes, and let everyone know I LOST chapter 12 and am halfway through the rewrite. I decided to take a different route than before with continuing this, and I hope you all will enjoy it. I also hope I will be finishing this chapter within a day or two.
I started this story at 14. I am now 21 years old, and damn things have changed. So differences in my writing style should be enjoyable. I hope.
Love,
LeeLee the Lunatic
