All around thanks for reviews to: the Anonymous reviewer, articcat621, scv914, VampireQueenBrittany (for two chapters, yeah), and yeah, MrsMoony86 is back and entirely caught up (seven reviews must be some kind of a record and she is on the right track with the compow, although peace and light is a tall order. It'll be more specific but nothing with the tracking.)

I appreciate all your support. Unfortunately, I kind of manoeuvred myself into a corner a bit. I needed to think a bit about how to get back on track. I know where it's supposed to end but how to get there… . That's why it took so long to this update and it will continue this way because I have this chapter under control now but not the next yet. Luckily, my husband took the kids skiing this weekend and I have a weekend off. Woo, story, here I come.

And believe it or not, my beginning of the year vacation turned out to be a trip from hell because my entire family had their passports stolen (lesson learned: never keep them all in one place or really locked up) and we had a hell of a lot to do to get an upper hand of the situation again. That tends to dampen creativity somewhat. It's not as bad as it sounds and we applied for all the new paperwork by now. With the worst of that out of the way, I can feel the story niggling on my brain again, though, and I can continue.

Continuing with the lemon stuff for a little more. Be Warned. EXPLICIT MATURE CONTENT. (just in case you haven't figured it out yet)

Chapter 18 part 5: Union

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Draco's POV:

I woke up the next morning because there was a warm body pressed against mine. That was strange. I never stayed overnight with the women I slept with. And then I noticed that not only was I unusually warm, but there was a perk bum pressed against my loin and it fit very well. As my brain slowly started working, I realized that my nose was buried in a bush of hair that smelled of roses and one of my hands rested on a taut and warm stomach. My other hand rested on a vibrating body over my head, the hair a little courser than the springy hair around my nose.

I moved my head out of the hair bush to see what my one hand was resting on and discovered Crookshanks perched over our two heads, rolled up on the pillow. He seemed to feel quite comfortable with my hand on his bum. I moved my hand away but the purring continued. I focused my attention on my other hand moving upwards on the soft skin of a taut front until it landed on a perk swell of a breast. When I cupped my hand around it, the well-fitting bottom rubbed itself against my morning erection which was a most pleasurable sensation.

How could she fit so well, I wondered? I'd never taken a woman to bed who hit all my erogenous zones just because her body parts were aligned with them. The one girl I wouldn't have been caught dead with in all my school years fit me like a thorn on a rose. Her delicious bottom rubbed my erection, her breast fit just in my hand, her lips on mine matched or on my ear shell, her nose on my neck, her back to my front rubbed my chest, her teeth and tongue on my nipples, her hands fit just comfortably around and her pussy, Merlin, fit like a satin glove over my shaft. Even her internal ripples were like a massage on my prick. Her skin tasted just the right mix of sweet and salty, her smell of roses seduced my nose and her moans were just the right vibrations to resonate in me and carry me even higher. Her hands seemed to touch, grip, knead, pull, scrape, or hold the right spots at the right moment. She must have started to do something to her face recently because her eyes were a bit accentuated and shone particularly in a way I had never seen before, when she climaxed. How her skin flushed and heated, how she bent and arched and writhed in abundance when I brought her up was priceless. I'd never seen anything so honest and so pure and I felt exhilarated that I was the one to give her that pleasure. I even liked her long limps, especially wrapped around me. And her skin was incredibly soft. This was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake, and she fit me like she was made for me.

Normally, I liked my women voluptuous. I liked large tits and round hips and arse and well-formed legs and feet. Granger was not voluptuous. She was on the slim side with long arms and long, well-formed legs. But she had a slim waist that made her hips look wider than they were. Her stomach was smooth and firm and so flat that it made her breasts stick out more than they rightfully deserved due to their size. And they were not only perfect in shape, but they actually had very responsive nipples that became hard if I just breathed on them. If only she wouldn't always hide it under voluminous jumpers. I needed to put her in some more form fitting clothes that would show off her figure more suitably. My hand on her arse reminded me that it was smooth and firm and round and I couldn't wait to see it blooming another time. Her back was long and muscular and invited hands to stroke over and teeth to bite into it. And on the risk of sounding like I'm gushing, the way she slung and wrapped her long legs around me and pulled me in, to never let me go, well, there is not much finer than that.

Just now said back was pushing itself firmer into my chest, rubbing shoulder blades over my nipples and a bottom again over my erection. When I exhaled on her ear shell, she shivered and I started to suspect that she was awake and toying with me. I licked over her ear and took her ear lobe between my lips to suck and put some pressure on my hand over her breast. She moaned in response and rubbed her behind intentionally over my upstanding shaft. I pulled myself a little further up, so I had more leverage and could whisper in her ear: "Morning, Granger."

She hmm'd. "Good Morning, Draco."

I chuckled: "We'll see how good the morning will be," and pushed my (proud) member down her back cleft and between her legs. I rubbed it back and forth over her swollen lips (we had a few go's the day before and well into the night) and savoured the warmth of her nether region. After a few rubs, she lifted her upper leg to give me more room to manoeuvre and moved with me. I heard a moan escape me when I felt my prick slide smoothly. I lifted myself up on an elbow to get a better angle and slipped it in. She bent herself into a 'C', her upper leg backward over my legs, her bum towards me, her hands reaching backward to my face and into my hair.

I started thrusting into her, my one hand squeezing her breast, my other hand in her hair. I alternately kissed and licked and sucked on her hand that was on my face. With every stroke I hit her front wall and after a few strokes I felt her starting to shiver.

And again, this fit. I played her body like an instrument: when I played the right keys, her body hummed and sang. Like I played the piano. That wasn't entirely unusual, though. I played almost every woman's body. Granger's was perhaps extra sensitive, but not different. Different was that she played me just as much. My body reacted to her little cues like it was made to do just that like a well-tuned instrument. You hit a key and the tone comes whether it wants to or not. I suspected this was the reason that I lost control so easily when I was with Granger. She kissed and I felt dizzy for desire. She moaned and my body hummed. She screamed my name in passion and I climaxed. Like fishing in an aquarium. It was a bit frightening, this feeling of losing control, but liberating as well. My body was telling me 'Just let go, for fuck's sake, stop manipulating' and I did. And being in her was heaven, she had me so well. I'd never been rubbed in all the right places at the same time before. It becomes difficult to breathe if all your nerve activity concentrates on your 15 cm appendix. When you come like that, it overwhelms you, and your teeth hurt, for Merlin's sake.

"Oooh," Granger moaned. Her sounds went right through to where it counted and I picked up speed. I felt my balls constricting because my rubbing over her inner wall stimulated my head as well as her.

"Oooh, yes, that's it, that's the right spot, yes, yes," she moaned. Oh, Merlin, I wasn't going to make it. This woman drove me insane. I groaned for relief of the tension. I already felt it coming. Where was my discipline? I was a Malfoy, for fuck's sake. I had to be able to control myself. But my body denied it.

"Yes, Draco, oh, yes, yes, right there, faster, harder, please, please, yes, yes, YES, oh my, oh, YES, ha, haaaaaaaaa."

It was no use. It was official, I was pussy-whipped; this woman had me by the balls. She exploded around me and I couldn't, couldn't, couldn't hold back; the way she rippled and clenched around me, I exploded with her. I couldn't breathe, it hurt my teeth, I felt the crown of my hair constrict, and I bit her shoulder (gently) just to do something that I could control. I heard myself make noises in ecstasy that I wasn't quite sure were actually human. More like animals in a rut.

When my elbow gave out, I collapsed onto her shoulder and pushed her on her stomach. I nuzzled my face in her hair and just enjoyed the feeling of her heated skin on mine. And of my prick in her hot convulsing wetness. Oh, Gawds, I was running out of superlatives to express how perfect this felt.

I knew I couldn't stay there for long, I would crush her. My frame was considerably larger and heavier than hers. But before I moved on my back, I couldn't refrain myself from saying: "Dammit, Granger. If you keep this up, we'll never be able to leave the bed."

I could feel her laughter by the shaking of her shoulders before I heard anything. I rolled over on my back and pulled her with me. She turned in my arms to be able to face me for the first time this morning and she blew me away with the way she was full-out laughing.

I'd never seen Granger laugh like that. When we had encounters at school, naturally she'd scowled or sneered and said something biting. Even in our good times her most benign facial expression had been concern. Maybe a few smiles but never a full-out laugh. There had been no occasion for that. I was sure, Potter and Weasley and her little Gryffindor friends had seen her numerous times laughing, but for me it was a first. Her eyes screwed up, her cheeks flushed (which reminded me pleasurably of other occasions when her cheeks were flushed) and she showed two rows of perfect teeth behind her pink lips. Her laughter was a roll of little laughters, no snorts, no grunts, a cadence of happy little sounds like a wave rolling in. It took me with it, filled me up and carried me safely to shore. Gawds, Malfoy, do you want to throw up over your own comment? Is this what love is like? Sods, all of us who are in love.

With the way the feeling clenched in my chest, I couldn't tell her that I liked watching her laugh, so I did what I always do, I sniped.

"Calm down, Granger, have a little composure." Which drove her right away into another bout of laughter. I held her shoulders above me until she calmed slowly.

"That, Malfoy, was priceless," she wheezed, still short of breath.

"Well, it's true," I carped. "I'm starving and you squeeze me between your legs."

She chuckled again but kept a grip this time. "I wouldn't have squeezed if you hadn't put your pecker between them. And you've got some nerve. On our first morning together, I might have wanted to use the loo or brush my teeth before I start anew between the sheets. I may have morning breath."

I narrowed my eyes. "Well, lucky me, but from my position I wouldn't have been able to tell. And I didn't hear you complaining about the positioning of my pecker." She blushed a little. "Yeah, well, …" she started.

"Deal with it, Granger, you are stuck with me. There is no turning back. You have me, balls, pecker and all, so you better get used to me being here in the morning." I smiled grimly. At first she was flustered, hearing my words. But then, there was a glint in her eyes. She quickly moved her hand and grabbed my sack. It stirred my just flaccid shaft into action again and I groaned. Gah, this woman was dangerous: she knew she held power and she was not afraid to wield it.

"Balls and all?" she asked in a sweet voice.

"Balls and all," I confirmed with a pressed voice. "Granger…"

"What will your friends say?"

I coughed. "Hermione, you need to let go."

"Eh?" she made.

"They'd think, it's hilarious. Please, let go," I whimpered. She did. I breathed in relief, then grabbed her hand and pushed her on her back, leaning over her. "Never do that again" I growled in her face.

She grinned provocatively. "Why ever not, Malfoy? You seemed to enjoy being squeezed." If I had been a dragon, I would have breathed fire in this moment. But Granger wrapped her legs around my back and threw her head back when my reinvigorated tip touched her lower lips and moaned. I was helpless. When she looked like she was in throes of passion, I just couldn't resist, I felt aroused. And arousal doesn't go well with anger. One of them has to give way. When she undulated against my tip and moved her ever so flexible feet up to my shoulders, it became quickly clear who had the upper hand.

"Alright, alright, a truce," I groaned. "You said you would feed me, Granger."

"Aww." She puckered her lips in disappointment. "Aw, well, I have to see what I can find."

That didn't sound very promising. To somebody who was used to being served his stomach's desire every morning, that is. She unwrapped her legs from around me and started to push out from under me, when I stopped her: "Wait," I said. "I have an idea. Make yourself decent." She pulled a t-shirt over her head and a bed cloth over herself and looked at me expectantly.

I called: "Deezy" and with a bang my personal house elf apparated into Hermione Granger's apartment.

"Master Draco, where you been, your mother be very worried …." Deezy stopped herself, seeing Granger behind my shoulder, our state of undress and a woman's bedroom. "Oh" she said and then remained silent.

I smiled at her. "Please inform my mother that I was at St. Mungo's the last three days and here last night. I thought, Blaise and Pansy would have told her. I'll come back to the Manor later today for a change of clothes. What we need now is a hearty breakfast, Deezy. Can you bring it here?"

Deezy looked a little insulted. "Of course, Master Draco. I be right back."

Five minutes later and we were sitting amongst a breakfast, supported on several floating trays, of fresh fruit with whipped cream and warm bread rolls, butter and jam, a cheese selection and cold cut, bacon and eggs, coffee, orange juice and tea.

Granger prepared a bread roll with butter and jam and then leaned back into a pillow against her headboard with a mug of coffee in her other hand. She smiled happily. I felt the air relaxing around us.

"Am I going to be treated to a breakfast like this every morning you'll stay here? Because if that is the case, I cannot guarantee that I'll work that off entirely. Something will remain on my hips eventually." Then she bit in her bread roll with a gusto that made the jam squeeze out on the other end. I caught it with my finger before it dripped on her bed sheet and put it in my mouth.

"Hey, that's my jam," she protested.

"Would you rather it had landed on your bed?" I jeered.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not, but you were supposed to put it in my mouth." I was stunned for a second. There were yet resources to be discovered in Hermione Granger. She was a bottomless pit of surprises. Kinky ones, too. Oh Boy.

I smirked. "It's still on my tongue if you really want it."

She smirked back. "Absolutely. Tongue it over."

I crawled over to her and straddled her lap. "Well, if you want it you have to take it from my tongue." She put her bread roll delicately down on a plate on a tray next to her and her coffee mug on another tray and took my head in both her hands and pulled it toward her.

"Well, then, give it to me," she challenged. I opened my mouth a bit and pushed my tongue out to my lips but no further. She put her lips on mine and sucked my tongue into her mouth where she cleaned it with her tongue. If she had put her tongue and lips on my prick it couldn't have been more stimulating. I felt the hair on my neck curl up (and other body parts) and on a particularly ticklish stroke of her tongue, I whimpered. Hearing this, she pulled back and grinned at me.

"Hm, this tongue is all clean. There's nothing more to do for me." And with that she leaned back and was about to pick up her coffee mug again, when I quickly dipped into the whipped cream and put it on my tongue again. "Try some cream," I enticed her, speaking around my curled up tongue.

She laughed and repeated her tonguing game from before. However, this time when she had cleaned my tongue, she dipped into the cream herself again and smeared some whipped cream on my lips and tongue. I licked her finger clean and slurped on her fingertip. She did it again and while transferring whipped cream from the bowl to my tongue this time, she held my gaze and when she had almost gotten it to my mouth she tilted her finger and dropped the cream from it. "Ooops," she said.

We didn't follow its way down. I looked into her laughing brown eyes and wondered how by Slytherin's moaning mistress I had deserved a second chance at heaven on earth like this. I didn't need to look down to know where the cream had landed. I could feel it. And I felt sweat against my brow and neck breaking out when I thought about how she would lick that particular dollop of cream off and when I imagined how that would look from my point of view.

"Granger," I growled quietly. "Don't you dare lick that off. I'll explode imagining it before you even get your lips on that particular body part of mine."

"Well, Malfoy," she smirked. I was definitely rubbing off on her. "I admit I am a little disappointed. I would have thought you have more discipline than that. How did you ever get your good grades in school if you don't have the discipline to go the extra length for it?"

I shuddered and groaned. "Oh, Gawds, Granger, have mercy on me."

She giggled. "Do my ears deceive me? Are you begging for mercy? You, Draco Malfoy?"

"Get on with it, Granger, will you? I can't hold my imagination much longer in check."

She laughed again and then I saw her head disappear from my view when she scooted lower, sliding her body right through my legs framing her until her face was approximately level with my groin. I couldn't watch, I thought. When I felt her tongue on the sensitive skin of the head of my cock, I thought, the least I could do was not to watch. But I am a Slytherin and I lie even to myself. Of course I looked down and when I saw her luxuriously licking off the whipped cream from my by now fully erect prick, I couldn't hold my shudder and the blood surging in my balls. The blood may even have shot in my face because of the image. It is hard to believe, I know, because I've participated in (mixed) orgies, had sex with several women at once and have fucked and been fucked (not by males) in every conceivable way. I am very confident in my sexual prowess and you'd think I'd be hard-assed when it came to sexual games and practices, anything sexual at all. But looking at Granger's little pink tongue licking over my cock had the same quality as your own private little fantasy that always gets you off: like you come into the library to an at first sight unattractive librarian who turns out to hide a hot body under her frumpy clothes and has beautifully gleaming eyes without her horn-rimmed glasses and wonderful hair falling around her shoulders when she opens her pulled-back up-do; who corners you in a dark corner when all the other customers have gone and she has locked the door and whose unadorned mouth turns out to be very talented; the little fantasy where you have hot sweaty sex with the librarian against the bookshelves and on the newspaper tables and over her reception desk. It was totally unexpected. And all the more arousing for it.

I had never lusted after Granger while we were at school. If you are not into getting off over a teacher punishing you with her screeching, she's just not the type. Especially since she always hid her assets under practical clothes and our uniforms and never shortened her school skirts like the other girls. There were plenty explicitly willing females while I was at school, there was no need to even think about her. So I never had any sexual fantasies about Granger. Sex to me was a power instrument and to release tension at best. I fucked because I wanted to dominate or to relax or both. And even though Granger antagonized me to no end and she was sided with Potter from very early on and it would have been natural to fantasize about dominating her for bothering me, I never did. In my mind, I never degraded her to a sex object. She did get under my skin but on a totally different, more aggravating level. Only now I learned that we connected on the physical level as well, it thrilled me when I smelled, heard, saw, tasted, felt her arousal. But it could never be as the power game that I had played with the other girls that I'd had. Lay and be laid, lay and leave, be reeled in and seduced and let them hang. No matter how we had played it, it had always ended with me leaving. Never once had I thought about relaxing right there next to the witch I had just fucked and enjoy our mutual satisfaction, be lulled into sleep, caressing her body into mine and breathing in our mixed scents. When I'd fallen asleep, then because we had fucked to exhaustion and I needed to replenish my energies and then, I had left as soon as I was done. Not once had I thought about waking up together the next morning and have breakfast together or anything romantic like that. Well, not until the previous night.

And knowing now how she fit me, how she responded to me and how she pushed my buttons to arouse me had me wring in anticipation and reminiscing. My hips wanted to move but I didn't want to shove right in her face. It became difficult to resist though.

"Granger," I whimpered, more sweat breaking out on my forehead and all body parts that usually break out in sweat. She looked up, saw me trembling and realized that I held myself together by a thin thread. She did the quickest practical thing (that's my Granger) which was to take it into her mouth again and suck two, three times. She stroked her tongue once over the tip and I trembled, I shook, I fell apart whimpering and for the first time in my life, likely due to our continuous activity since yesterday midday, I climaxed without come. When she noticed, she slithered out between my legs and came up again to a sitting position and took me in her arms while I was still shaking. I buried my face in the crook of her neck and she embraced me as if she could take the whole of me inside her body. And I felt whole. I felt also raw and exposed, vulnerable and shaken to the core. I was sitting on her bed, held by a woman who didn't like exposing her naked body (what a shame) and had not taken the t-shirt off again; I was naked amongst breakfast trays with quickly cooling coffee and tea (we'd forgotten the stasis charm) and I had just experienced a climax that had tapped and shaken my innermost core without the satisfying release. And with the way she held me, I felt complete. And sheltered. Not in the naive way a mother makes everything alright with her soothing but in a way that leaves no doubts and no open questions. In a way that life tells you, this is it; as of this moment, you've arrived, you've reached your goal, you are where you are supposed to be. Everything else is secondary.

And I knew that I wanted her. I wanted her to hold me like this whenever I needed it. I wanted to delve into her immense magical power and welcome her to mine and feel the exciting prickle of it mixing with mine and be sheltered and balanced. I wanted her to lean on me and rely on me the same way. I wanted to be in her and protectively around her at the same time. Impaling and embracing her at the same time came closest to the feeling I was trying to clarify to myself.

It had nothing to do with desire, although I couldn't deny that wholesome aspect. Her soft skin gliding over mine, her inner muscles clamping down on my prick, her lips holding mine and her tongue stroking induced feelings that left me hot and cold. But every time I was with her, images of warmth and softness, of comfort and wholeness pushed themselves into my mind and I couldn't deny those either. I felt secure with her, even in my vulnerable state. She would lash out at me if I hurt her but Granger would never wilfully, maliciously take advantage of me, the way every good Slytherin woman would have done in a blink, or stab me when I was down. I could feel it in the way my magic relaxed around her when it used to be always on high alert. And although I grew up with the notion that you could never fully trust your woman for that reason, or your friends, even your family, (maybe except for your mother, maybe) it felt good to imagine that with this woman I didn't need to be constantly aware; that with her I could sit back every day and let my feet dangle without having to watch who could potentially bite them. And I believe in that moment, life literally hit me with a sign that I was where I needed to be. But I was too shaken to comment on it.

"No more games," Hermione said. "You are exhausted. You need to eat. And rest. And sleep."

She levitated all the trays off the bed with a wave of her hand and deposited me on the pillow she had formerly leaned against, covered me with a blanket up to my chest and filled me a plate with bacon and eggs from a floating tray and tried to push it in my hands. When she found that my hands were still shaking, she took the plate back and fed me until the plate was finished.

With a satisfying amount of food in my stomach, my eyes fluttered shut and I slept for a bit. When I awoke the sun was high and Granger was sitting next to me on the bed, bent over a book, flying through the pages. She was nibbling on a bread roll, tearing little pieces off and putting them delicately in her mouth. When I stirred, she looked at me and her eyes alighted.

"Hey," she said, leaning over as if she was about to kiss the corner of my mouth. Unfortunately, she stopped herself mid-way. "Feeling better?"

I wanted her kiss. Her lips felt marvellous on mine but I didn't know why she stopped herself. It made me uncertain. I replied: "I haven't felt bad."

She was surprised. "You shook like you were in a nervous breakdown."

I smirked weakly. "Doesn't mean it felt bad."

She lifted her eyebrows in doubt and I went on: "Why didn't you kiss me if it looked like a nervous breakdown?"

She smiled. "I'm not convinced that the way you are handling nervous breakdowns is quite the correct one."

I felt the corners of my mouth pulling up into a smile. I'd be damned if I lost the famous Malfoy smirk and smiled like a goof from now on. I poured myself a tea, fixed it with a spot of milk and took a sip to mask my facial gestures.

"I see you are already eating again," I said to distract from my confusion.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, I was finally able to finish my jam roll when you fell asleep but since it's been two hours and it's almost lunch time, I was hungry again. Besides, I overthought my earlier statement: with all the aggravation I experience with you I don't need to be worried that anything will show too quickly on my body. Even with all the opulent meals."

I smirked: "More's the pity. Usually, I like my women more voluptuous, with an hourglass figure."

She shrugged: "Just wait a few pregnancies. Women usually expand with the pregnancy hormones. Boobs will be bigger, hips wider, it'll be close enough to an hourglass."

I had just taken a sip and almost spit out my tea. When I had managed to swallow without choking, I asked through clenched teeth: "Erm, Granger, you are using contraceptives, right?"

She shrugged again. "Too late now, anyway, right? And didn't you say you have your ways to prevent a woman from becoming pregnant with your sperm?"

"Yeah, well, that requires a certain spell some time before the act." There it was again, this forsaken lack of control when it came to her. And I knew I stared. Wide-eyed, gaping mouth, no words coming. Another first for me. Forget what I said earlier about Malfoy's not gaping open-mouthed. I was getting used to the idea of having our kind of fulfilling pleasures every day with Granger, but married and pregnant right away? She chuckled.

"Oh, and you forgot with me? Relax, Draco. I am on the potion. I'm only nineteen; I've been in a war. I don't want to go into motherhood right away." I exhaled and put away my tea before it showed the shaking of my hands. "I'm surprised, though, Draco. Weren't you looking for a bride who can make you little Malfoys right away?" she continued.

I sagged in relief into the back of her bed and took a soft curl of her hair. I was going to love this hair eventually, I just knew it. It was strong and soft at the same time. Just like Granger herself. "I was meant to marry a pureblooded trophy wife as quickly as possible to make an heir to continue the dynasty. With you being none, all bets are off." It was very liberating again, actually, not to have to conform to expectations. I pulled the curl and watched it spring back. I looked up just I time to see her face fall. "Granger, you would not be a trophy wife, alright?"

"I most certainly would not," she replied and looked away but I could hear that she was piqued.

"You most certainly would not, that's right." Seeing her pull a face, I knew it was not enough. She must have overthought things while I was out for two hours. But what she needed to hear and why she needed to hear it, I didn't know. She was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake, she normally let nobody, well, perhaps Harry Potter, tell her who or what she was. She had fought a war with unparalleled magic and survival instinct. How could she even think she would fall in the same category as the pureblooded damsels I had been dating to find a woman to make an heir with?

Finally, I pulled her into my arms and sat her on my lap. It immediately felt good to have her thus close. And I was a Malfoy; I took what I liked best. Taking a handful of her thick locks in one hand and her cheek in the other, I said: "You know that you are in your own league, don't you?"

That didn't seem to have the desired effect of cheering her up. She still looked crestfallen. I was at a loss what to do and I couldn't hide that in my voice. I snarled.

"What's your problem, Granger?"

She moved her face out of my hand and looked over to the window. I couldn't be certain but I thought I saw her eyes glistening and her lower lip quiver. What was wrong for fuck's sake? Did she want to marry right away? Didn't she say that she didn't want that, children and marriage? I felt confused again and that is not a good feeling, I can assure you.

"Look, Granger. If it's important to you to be married to me, we can set a date right now. I am not afraid of marriage. I was all set to do it anyway, resigning myself to the fact that I would live with one woman for all my life whether I loved her or not. I've been growing up knowing that I would have to marry as soon as I finished school. But it seems a foreign concept to you and I'd rather you found a liking to the idea of being with me for the long haul. That's why I wanted to date you first, alright? Because besides working together and shagging our brains out, which admittedly is a first class way of dating, we haven't spent that much time together doing things we both like."

"How can you want to date me, not to mention marry me, when all you know about me is that I read lots of books, am a teacher's pet and boss the men in my life around?" she asked in a clogged up voice.

I groaned. What was it with women needing constant approval? "Didn't I just say that I want to date you as a way to get to know the other side of you? The one that shags my brains out and enjoys good food and likes wine and is incredibly educated and matches my magic tit for tat?"

"You were engaged to Astoria for about a month and called her "Tori" and you know me for seven years and worked closely with me for five months and still call me Granger," she accused vehemently to the window. Ah, now we were getting somewhere. My lack of endearments for her bothered her and the fact that we weren't exactly cuddly-cosy together. I knew I was supposed to call her "Hermione" now. I had managed a few times so far, but it wasn't easy to do. "Hermione" was such a stiff name and I had called her "Granger" ever since I'd known her. First as a steadfast and smart enemy, as the brain behind Potter, later as a trusted equal. She had gained my respect and more while being called "Granger". If I called her some meek endearment now, I felt I would belittle her strength. And I relied on her strength for many things. But how to tell her that?

"What would you want me to call you now?" I frowned. She shrugged.

"Baby?"

She pulled a face.

"Honey?" She deepened her grimace.

"Mione? Because Hermione is a mouthful."

"Gods, no." She shook her head.

"Well, let me know when you think of an endearment that you like. And I will do my best to integrate it into my daily vocabulary," I said with raised eyebrows.

"But," here I narrowed my eyes to my most sinister Malfoy look, "be sure to incorporate all your strength, your magical powers, your mastery of the compow, your benevolence and the way we mix explosively in the bedroom into it. Otherwise it won't reflect who you are properly, the way "Granger" does for me, and it will only belittle you. Like endearments often do."

Her head snapped around back to me. I could see it in the way the brown took on a golden glow how understanding dawned in her eyes. Like the sun setting over freshly ploughed soil. There was a certain richness to it. You could feel the power of the earth in the golden glow. It was eerie.

"And I've known Astoria all her life. I started calling her Tori when I was about four years old and she was two," I added.

And then Granger, hm, Hermione snogged me to the point that I felt my toe nails curl (I know, it's very girlish but it was true) and my head went all woozy. Thoughts swirled in my head, images of her sitting at a table across from me in a restaurant with white decked tables, dressed to the nines, her hair up-done, her delicate features glowing in the candle light, a wine glass in her hand, toasting me. I would make our dates the best time in her life. She certainly deserved that. Without her, I would be a living corpse without soul. I would have continued on my way in Voldemort's service and I would have destroyed myself in the process. I might have taken part of her pain when she was tortured but that was nothing against the way she had been inexplicably there whenever I needed a lifeline. I needed to value her for that. I was going to spoil her senseless to show her what life with me was going to be like. In a sneaky, Slytherin way. I knew better than to simply throw money at her and I knew that vaults of money did not impress her much, but she would accept something expensive if given with consideration. If I took her out to the most expensive restaurant in London, heck, Paris, she would feel like I tried to intimidate her and balk. But if I told her I wanted to have her taste my favourite wine in my favourite restaurant, her curiosity would take her through even if the setting was overwhelmingly formal. And of course, I would dress her for the occasion. And not show her the price. Some people might consider this manipulation but was it manipulation if I wanted to show a deserving woman the (expensive) beauties in life and I had the money to pay for it?

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that it took me a few seconds to realize that she had stopped kissing and was eyeing my face amusedly when I opened my eyes.

"Did I kiss you into oblivion?" she grinned. All her self-doubts seemed to be forgotten. Bless women and their versatile brains.

"Somewhat," I hedged.

"Where were you?" she asked curiously.

"Taking you out to my favourite restaurant," I explained.

She grinned again. "Which one is that? The most expensive one in London? The one where you have to make reservations through the Queen?"

I grinned with her. Gosh, it was so good to be right. She was rightfully suspicious, given my background. "No, actually, that's not my favourite."

Her face fell a bit. "But you've been there?"

I shrugged. I would have never thought it possible up until that point, that I ever felt unsure how to handle the issue that I had money with a woman I wanted. "My father gets in all kind of places and naturally he takes his family with him. Well, not always, but often enough."

She frowned; most likely thinking along the same lines as I had a few minutes ago, about what it would mean to be with me. This time, I was one step ahead of her. But this time it felt like manipulation to me all of a sudden and I wanted to be honest with her. Because her eyes would glow less and her magic became all scratchy if I wasn't.

"Would you come with me if I told you, it was my favourite restaurant and I wanted to enjoy my favourite dish with you?"

She searched my eyes and hopefully saw my good intentions in there. After a few moments, she nodded. "If that was the main reason, I would."

"Independent of the price?" I clarified a little nervously.

She smiled. "I couldn't have you live in substandard compared to your usual life just because I wouldn't want to spend the money to go there myself, now, can I?"

I exhaled. Yes. I kissed her. "Excellent, Granger. I was worried for a moment that I would have to live on gruel from now on because you couldn't afford more than that. And you wouldn't let me pay for your meals."

She swatted me on the chest. "You know that I don't live on gruel. And since when would you eat what I eat?"

I frowned. "Well, I was concerned that you would only let me take you out to places you considered appropriate and that they only served gruel."

She snickered. "Poor Draco. Afraid of a new lifestyle. Would I let you suffer like that?"

I looked at her pointedly. "From what I heard, you put Potter and the Weasel through their paces when supervising their homework and schoolwork. I consider you not above trying that with me. But I'll have you know that you will not order me around like your two twats."

She looked away again. I didn't like that at all. It felt like a shutter closing, every time she did that. "I was quite a bossy swot, wasn't I?" she amended quietly.

"Yes, well…," I admitted reluctantly. She had been. But it would hurt her, if I pointed it out. And I didn't want to see her hurt. All the warmth diminished in her eyes when she was hurt. When she didn't turn back to me, I took her face and pulled it gently back to me. "And now, you are my bossy swot. Just don't boss me around to much, alright? I become very bitchy if I get too much bossing."

She smiled coyly. "Okay, I'll try. Just tell me when it gets too much, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright. Now you only need to live with my snobbish Malfoyish way."

She snickered. "I already figured out when you are that way. I can deal with it."

It took a second to sink in. What? "I beg your pardon?"

Granger beamed at me. "I figured out that you become snarky and lordly when you feel uncomfortable with something. And it can even be something nice. It likely makes you feel like you owe something and you try to shock people into letting off, don't you?"

"Do I?" I didn't quite have my wits back for a sharp reply. I hadn't even been aware that I do that. I was stunned into speechlessness.

She nodded. "Once I figured out the pattern, it was quite obvious how you act and react. I mean, you even snarled at me when I sucked you off. And it was obvious that not the act itself was uncomfortable to you, so it must have been the fact that I did it."

Too right, it had been. I had been disoriented, waking up in a foreign bed after a short much needed nap, and finding Hermione Granger with my cock in her mouth bent over me. And even though we had crossed the border to intimacy before that (several times and with increasing pleasure), at first it had been a shock. It had taken a few of her masterful sucks with vibration and tongue plays to drive the point home that it was quite enjoyable to have her do that.

"When did you figure that out?" I asked hoarsely, still stunned.

"Pretty much then." She looked a little nervous.

"Between sucking me off, and having me drive you to orgasm and riding me to exhaustion you figured out that I feel uncomfortable with the situation when I snarl?" I blurted out forcefully. Now she looked really nervous, unsure of my reaction, but she nodded again none the less.

I let go of her face, set her down on her bed and made to move around her, off the bed. Trying to avoid my movement, she fell backward on her bum and looked after me as I scooted of the bed. As I stood in my naked glory in the middle of her bedroom, trying to remember where I left my clothes (and when I had been dressed the last time), she asked in a small voice: "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

"I'm going home. Well, trying to, if I can find my clothes."

"In the foyer. I ripped them off you yesterday, remember? Why are you going home? What did I do?" She sounded a little panicked. I looked back on the bed where she sat in her t-shirt, her hair a little dishevelled.

I wanted this woman. I really did. She filled holes and gaps and corners in me that I didn't even know existed until she started filling them up. And now I couldn't live with these empty spaces anymore. So, I needed her and I wanted her. But could I see my life with her like you do when you sketch your married life with your wife? Not really. Because Granger, although she fit me perfectly in all important aspects in life, didn't fit in the life I was brought up to live, residing in the Manor, lording over the Malfoy estates, meddling in politics to the advantage of our family and promenading my (pureblood) wife and children in public. I was certain that she could easily learn to be the Lady of the Manor. There was nothing that she couldn't learn but would she feel comfortable with it? I would find out. I wanted to find out. I did know that life with Granger would be much more exciting and fulfilling that simply lording over the estates and showing of my noble family. The magic that I worked with her would make sure of that. The raptures that we experienced together would keep us satisfied for years to come. The way she got me and captured me promised peace of mind. But everything else was a blank. I had no idea how we would be together. Would we be able to find a common ground to walk every day or would we rip each other's head of every chance we would get? She seemed to understand me much more than I expected, now, given the chances. Much better than I ever expected to be understood, actually. Would that continue? I wanted to find out.

I made a decision in that moment that I would stop playing my Slytherin games with her because it shook her every time I did that. At least, until I had earned her trust, I would lay off. And therefore, I couldn't carry it through what I had in mind when I got up, which had been, to leave and come back with my toothbrush after a while, if it meant to potentially hurt or frighten her. I had to tell her. I went back over to the bed and crawled back on until I was face to face with her.

"I'm going home to grab my essentials, like my toothbrush and Gwenny and then I am going to move in with you. Because you, Granger, figured me out. And I cannot risk that you go parading with your knowledge and expose me to the world. So, I will have to watch you every minute of every day to make sure that you don't blab about what you know about me. And I can only do that when I live with you full time. If we do some pleasurable things to fill my time, I wouldn't mind that. Because you know, I don't have to work."

Her eyes became wide as dinner plates. "You want to move in with me? Here?"

I barked: "It'll do for now until we can find a bigger place. You could also move into the Manor with me but I can understand if you don't want to live there. It's quite large and cold. And it holds bad memories for you and such. Your apartment is much warmer and cosier. But it doesn't matter where we live as long as I can be by your side. To watch you, of course." She wouldn't want to live in the Manor, would she? After what Bellatrix did to her in the Drawing room? We would figure that out. We were two extremely smart people, we would find a solution. Perhaps an unconventional solution but a solution that would fit us both. As long as she stayed with me. That was the most important part. It's hard to say that outright if you've been raised to disguise your messages under loads of rubbish. Granger, drat, Hermione read me well enough, though.

I sat back and folded my arms over my naked chest. I became aware that I looked like a dog on all fours and with a potential boner between his legs. That wouldn't do. I am not ashamed of my body but I had some dignity.

"That would be called harassment, Malfoy," she snarled at me, lifting herself up on her knees as well, to bring her face up to my height. "Are you quite certain that you want to do that?"

"I don't care what it's called," I snarled back. "As long as I can be with you when you wake up in the morning and shag you before you go to work and you come with me when I go out and in the evening we sit together and cuddle our cats together and shag again, in short, you'll be at my side at all times." As I said, that was the most important part.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she asked wide-eyed again. Marriage again. What was it with women and marriage?

I snarled: "I thought that issue was off the table for now. I would if I was certain you would say yes, which is normally the case when a Malfoy asks and as I just told you I am all prepared for marriage. But for you, that's not a given."

I saw her long face and it gave me a sting. It hurt seeing her wince over something I said. But why did she have to ride this topic out if it hurt her? To me, it was just a chore, something else that was expected. Marriage was the least in my mind when I thought about Granger. Not because I didn't value her. But my connection with Hermione, there, I said it, had nothing to do with conventional society rules, like marriage would be. I wouldn't have minded at all to spend my life with her without the marriage word ever coming up again. But I knew that's not proper either. And marriage was the easiest way to assure to the world that the woman belonged to you and nobody else.

I turned serious immediately and took her in my arms: "Granger, I'm serious. I need you in my life every day. As for marriage, let's weather a bit of the opposition we are going to face, alright? And when the time is right, let me ask you properly." Let me get a feeling for it being the right time, the right thing, something that we both wanted, I thought.

She looked at me for a minute as if weighing if she could live with my shocking opposition even if we were on the same side. Whatever she saw convinced her and she nodded. I exhaled in relief and pulled her deeper into my arms, into my chest. This woman belonged here, right here and nowhere else, I was certain. I was going to ask her. She was mine.

"Besides," I continued speaking in her hair, "in the meantime, you can do a little more convincing in the shag department. I don't like to buy the bird without seeing it fly."

Her head came up and with narrowed eyes she responded slyly: "I think it's quite clear to you which way the bird flies. I'm quite certain that I already score an Outstanding in the shag department. On the other hand, I am actually not quite sure about the getting married thing. At least, not right away. And after the disaster I had in my previous relationship. In my book, I was going to have a career first and leave the babies to someone else for now. So," she paused for effect, "if anybody needs convincing, it is I. But," she patted me comfortingly on my thigh, very close to the loin, "you were off to a good start yesterday and last night. A few more of your performances like that will go a loooong way." She grinned cheekily. I growled and pushed her backward into a lying position. She snickered when I aligned my body over hers. "That," I spoke against her lips, "can be arranged."

And then we went at it again. And again. And again.

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A/N: Cue Bruno Mars "Marry you" for a little bit of OOC fun. It has a nice melody. The whole marriage/non-marriage thing got a little confusing in the end. I knew where they both were coming from (and it will be better explained later, I hope) but I don't know if you can see it. Let me know how you understood it, alright?

Puh, that's it, the shagfest. No more of that, well, maybe here and there but not in that intensity anymore. I need a shower now (winks). This actually got longer than I intended, so I had to spread it over three chapters/installments. Well, they shagged each other to exhaustion. Let's give them a break, alright? There are other important matters to turn to. Loose ends so to say.

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In the afternoon, they were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa over tea in the living room again in front of a fire in the floo-blocked fireplace. Crookshanks had rolled up and nested himself on the backrest of the couch and Hermione had her legs over Draco Malfoy's, her feet in his lap. It was quiet in the room except for the crackling of the fire and Crookshanks' purring as each of its human occupants was staring in the fire and hanging in their own thoughts. Hermione made the first human sound when Malfoy took one of her feet in his hands and started rubbing the sole: she sighed luxuriously and let her head sink back on the armrest behind her, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands on her foot. When he changed feet after a few minutes, Hermione looked up and observed him, wondering what he was doing. He wasn't rubbing her feet thoughtlessly. He didn't look at the fire anymore as he had done until a few minutes ago but studied her feet thoroughly while moving his fingers nimbly over them. He took each toe carefully and pulled it softly straight, rubbed the skin between the toes and the hardened areas on the sole and the upper arch. After watching him for a minute or two, Hermione couldn't hold back anymore:

"Malfoy?"

"Hm?" He murmured without taking his eyes off her feet or stopping his stroking.

Hermione couldn't suppress a smile. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy was capable of such tender attentions? "What are you doing, exactly?" she asked.

"What does it look like, Granger?" he mumbled back.

Now she grinned openly. "It looks like you are stroking my feet."

"Hm," he confirmed. When after another minute it didn't look like he was going to say more, Hermione pressed on. "Why are you stroking my feet?"

"Because I like it," he mumbled again while continuing his ministrations.

Hermione crossed her arms and with a smug look she further inquired: "Do you have a fetish?"

Malfoy was smoothing his hand over the insole of her right foot at the moment and it tickled a bit. Her foot twitched. He smiled and repeated the move. When the foot lay still this time, he looked up. Hermione was astounded to see that his grey eyes were amazingly clear without anger clouding them.

"Do you want to know if I get off staring at or fondling women's feet? No." He shook his head. "I just like feet. And your feet are pretty."

Hermione eyed him curiously. The way he'd said the last sentence, he had sounded like a little boy, telling his mummy that she was pretty. She didn't think that Draco Malfoy was a Mama's boy as such, but she highly suspected that he had been a little boy when last he had been allowed to say any niceties to anybody. There were so many undiscovered layers in him that sometimes, she felt that she was re-discovering a book that she had discarded as unsuitable a long time ago, and only now was she able to appreciate it.

"Why do you like feet?" she asked, wanting to uncover a new layer of Draco Malfoy.

He had turned his attention back to his lap and matched his fingertips to the tips of the toes, tapping each in turn. "They are solid, quiet and unassuming. They carry huge burdens without complains and still look pretty. When well cared for, they are soft and I like painted toenails."

Hermione contemplated the man on the other end of her sofa. "Everything you are not?"

He nodded. "Except for the toenails."

Hermione snorted. Draco Malfoy was too masculine to even be mention with painted toenails in the same sentence. Apart from his lordly snarling demeanour, he exuded an air of masculinity. There were men who had a female side and it fit their persona. But Draco Malfoy was anything but female. Every part of him said 'male', starting by his handsome face with the sharp jaw, his clear piercing eyes and his lean, very masculine body with broad shoulders and slim hips. Not to mention what he carried underneath his trousers. He moved with the grace of a predator animal and his smell, besides his cologne, carried the hint of musky maleness. Hermione loved it. He was harsh and unyielding, firm and focused with a sharp mind. His attitude in life was that of one who deserved everything and he took possession of what he wanted without asking. Something that Hermione Granger appreciated very much. She had been used to work hard or fight or wait patiently for what she wanted all her life and for once, she didn't have to strain herself to reach but was taken. She couldn't deny that that felt exceptionally good. And his unexpected calm and tenderness was like balm on the nerves she lost when she worked too hard. Being Hermione Granger, though, she wanted to reciprocate.

When no further answer came from Malfoy, she pulled herself up and her feet out of his grip to kneel over his lap. He looked up and at her expectantly. When their eyes connected, she said: "I think you are pretty solid." She put her hands on his chest. "And I bet it can be pretty quiet in there." She lowered her elbows down to his chest to bring her face closer to his. "And who says that you shouldn't complain if the burden is too cumbersome?"

When he broke the eye contact, looking to the side on an exhale, she put one hand on the averted cheek and pulled his face back. "And we have yet to see how soft you can become under actual care."

After a short glance into Hermione's warm brown eyes, Draco tried to shift away. Held by her hand, he inadvertently pushed his cheek into it and, realizing that he couldn't turn away, he closed his eyes.

"We can't help with the "unassuming" part, though, I believe. That's a lost cause," Hermione added as an afterthought and with a smile.

Malfoy snorted and, having regained his composure, he opened his eyes and, looking past the woman on his rump at the fire, he said quietly: "It's not that I was a neglected child. I got whatever I wanted and more."

Relentless, Hermione said what was on her mind: "Neglect can be very subjective. And you never got what you wanted most, your father's unconditional love and acceptance."

"Is it that obvious?" he mumbled, still looking at the fire.

Hermione sighed. "To me, yes."

"Drat," Malfoy pressed out between clenched teeth. "If you saw it, every other Slytherin will have seen it as well."

"Not the guys, I believe," Hermione tried to comfort him. "Men are rather good at denying what they don't want to see. And if your peers have been raised the same way as you, they would consider it normal and not notice it. And the girls were rather busy with gaining your attention, I assume, and not with focusing on any potential short-comings on your behalf, I expect."

"Hm," Draco made unspecifically, still staring into the fire. He didn't want to share with her that that would be exactly what Slytherin women did to get what they wanted. Blackmail was the straightest way to achieve and protect your interests. When it became obvious that again he wouldn't say more, Hermione pulled his face again to her.

"Draco," she said. "It's not your fault that your father was so dissatisfied with his life that he couldn't even show his only son how much he loved him. Could you imagine that your father was constantly afraid for your and your mother's life and safety that he made himself so miserable that he couldn't for the world show any love? And how is that your fault?"

"I could have been better and he needn't have worried about my safety," he mumbled.

"No, you couldn't," Hermione argued against. "You were a child. And it took two people to be a better flier and better academically, just as an example. How were you going to combine that in your one person? You already made yourself miserable with the amount of work you have been doing. The day has only 24 hours, you know?"

"I didn't do that much work," he hedged.

"Then you are even smarter than me and bully to you, because I did an insane amount of work to receive the grades I had," Hermione exclaimed.

"See? With more work, then, I could have been better than you," Draco exclaimed back.

"And then your father would have found something else to be dissatisfied about. Don't delude yourself, Draco. Your father's misery has nothing to do with you. You are not responsible for your father's attitudes." Hermione calmed herself. It wouldn't do if they yelled at each other over such issues.

For a moment, it looked like Draco was going to say something back. But then he wrapped his arms around her body hovering over his and moved her into his side. Hermione snuggled into his shoulder and stretched out on the couch, squeezed between his warm body and the couch backrest. He spoke against her forehead.

"Stop psychoanalysing me, Granger. I appreciate the effort but it won't change anything. My relationship with my father may not be perfect and our alignment with Voldemort may not reflect well on my family but I am still proud to be a Malfoy and everything they stand for. I am still the git you knew from school. I just don't insult you anymore."

"No, you are not," Hermione mumbled into his chest. "I couldn't let you be with me if you were."

Draco Malfoy took this in silence. He breathed into her hair but refrained from saying anything. Instead, he stroked over Hermione's back and shoulders. After a few minutes, Hermione again couldn't stand the silence anymore with all the burning issues they had to discuss.

"Draco?"

"What, Hermione?"

"What happened with the compow yesterday?"

That took him from outer left field. He had thought she was going to continue nagging him and his family history, as women usually do, trying to make him all better or find more information. That she actually switched topic took him by surprise, and he struggled for a second to reign in his anger. He stalled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how is it possible that our combined magic dissolves an unbreakable marriage bond? A bond that is anchored in two magical people and shouldn't even be accessible with one connected person absent? What did we do to make that possible?"

"Heck, Granger, how shall I know? We shagged, the compow imploded, the bond broke."

"Why, Malfoy? Why did the bond break? What did we do to break it? We didn't even access the compow."

Draco Malfoy groaned. "I don't know, do I? Stop pestering me. It exploded before, apparently it does that from time to time."

Hermione didn't let up. "It did explode before, that's right. We fought and it exploded. This time, it imploded. We didn't fight. On the contrary, we, well, united," she mused.

"See?" Draco piped up triumphantly. "We fight, it explodes, we shag, it implodes, end of story."

"No, Draco. Then it would do something every time we sleep together. And after that implosion it has remained quiet. We had earth shattering, mind-boggling orgasms since then, and no sign of the compow. So, sexual bliss has no effect on the compow." Draco observed that Hermione had that straight crease down the middle of her forehead, indicating her deep thinking. It was cute in a way.

Draco waggled his eyebrows. "Really? Earth shattering, mind-boggling? Want to do it again?"

Hermione was still in thought and ignored his innuendo. "What did you feel when the compow imploded? You looked a little out of it."

Draco felt irritated. He wanted to entice her to another interlude and she ..? He was a little reluctant to think back to what had happened. "You pulled your feet away and I fell onto you and it shot right into my loin. After that I just wanted to get into you as quickly as possible."

"Right, first, I resisted but when I gave up, you lost control and went at it with lightning speed."

"I seem to be doing that a lot around you, lately, losing control," he mumbled.

"But you looked so lost," Hermione mumbled to herself and stretched a hand out to stroke his cheek and lips. "Behind the glaze of your eyes, you looked so forlorn. And eager for connection."

"Was that when you said, you'd take me? And offered to belong to you? And then the bond was ripped out of me." His grey eyes were dark again in reminiscence and they pierced Hermione as if she had done him harm with her offer. He inhaled deeply, remembering the intense sensation of the ripping. And the sound of something fundamental breaking.

Hermione remembered the same thing, how his come had flooded her and pushed her over the brink and the abysmal sound of a strong hold snapping had drowned everything out. She shuddered over the intensity of her memory.

"It felt similar when we adjuncted," Draco mumbled further.

This time Hermione actually looked at him. "What did?"

He looked to the side and not directly at her. "I was angry. Potter had sliced me open, and you still defended him. I felt betrayed because I thought you would believe me, even if I tweaked the truth in my favour. I was exhausted from the pressure of repairing that damn cupboard and then you sat at my bed and eyed me like I was a nest of doxies residing in your closet in your favourite dress. Or grindylows in your bathtub. After you had comforted me before, I felt betrayed by your hostility. With hindsight, of course, I know that you were angry at me because I did attack Potter out of my desperation. And then you said you were sorry that I got hit with a curse for enemies because you didn't consider me an enemy anymore. You turned my whole world upside down that night. I was furious that you did that. Why couldn't you have just kept to the straight lines of good and bad, dark and light, enemy and friend? Perhaps I liked being your enemy and antagonizing you at every turn. And you destroyed in those few word every belief I'd been taught and I couldn't continue as before without profoundly lying to myself. I was barking madly furious and I lost control over my temper and my magic with it, I believe. You took it all in and we adjuncted. And it felt similar to just before the breaking of the bond yesterday."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself up into a better position, she kissed him bracingly full on the mouth. Draco took it. He took her lips like a thirsty man takes a glass of water and returned her kiss. For several minutes. Pulling her body close to his, he was reminded again how well her soft curves fit into his shape.

Hermione detached her lips mid-kiss because she wanted to say what she had to say: "I was sorry. I was sorry that you stood on the other side. I saw you suffering, you lost weight and your complexion became grey and hollow over the year. You looked like hell and I couldn't help you. And I felt drawn to wanting to help you after the first night in the classroom. And it made me so mad that I couldn't that I sometimes cried for anger in my pillow at night. I cried because of Ron and Lavender as well, so nobody was any the wiser, but I know why I cried."

He didn't need to say "Thank you for caring" or "Thank you for worrying" or simply "Thank you". With a piercing glance he bore his way into her root at the apex of her pelvis and with the warmth spreading through her rump, Hermione knew she needed him closer. Malfoy recaptured her lips and when she put her upper leg over his, he turned her on her back and settled himself between her legs. Snogging and dry-humping each other for a few minutes, she closed her legs behind his back and pulled him right to her centre. He pressed his hard length right on it and moaned into her mouth. They had made a point of getting dressed before lunch to bring some normality into their day. Deezy had brought a change of clothes for Malfoy with the lunch, as well. But Hermione could feel his erection through the comfortable skirt she had pulled on because she had anticipated that her leg garment would have to go quickly at one point again and when she pulled him closer yet, she couldn't stand not feeling him in her.

"Come in, Draco, please, come in," she breathed on his mouth. He groaned and nestled his zipper open to free his shaft and coming up on his knees, he shoved her skirt up and pulled her panties off. Looking at her, he settled between her legs again and when Hermione felt the tip of him at her entrance she closed her eyes in relaxation, expecting him to come in at his leisure. They were past the point of him needing to ask extra permission. He started sinking into her but paused with just the head in. She opened her eyes again, to see what held him up, and found him watching her with an intensity that made her throat constrict and her stomach tingle. She swallowed against the lump in her throat but didn't want to do anything against the tingling. It was very pleasant. Hermione looked in his eyes and dug her hand in his silky hair.

"Take me in, Hermione", Malfoy whispered hoarsely.

"Yes," she sighed, relaxing into the armrest behind her back. He pushed further in and then stopped again.

"Take me in" he said again.

"Yes," she said again. And so they went on, millimetre for millimetre.

"Take me in, take me in, take me in," he said with an increasingly pressured voice until he reached the end of her channel.

And "yes, yes, yes," she moaned, pushing him into her with her legs behind him, becoming louder and louder until he filled her up entirely. And then they laid still, breathing into each other's faces, his forehead resting on hers. They were so occupied with their breathing and the sensations of their union that they didn't notice the purple hue that the air took on around them.

When she pushed him further again and moved her hips, he moved with minimal strokes, not wanting to pull farther out.

"Yes," Hermione moaned.

"Yes," Draco groaned.

"YES." She felt her womb clenching in anticipation of the big one.

"YES," he moaned, diving and driving into her depth where he felt best.

"YES!" she yelled when her inner muscles clamped around his cock.

"YES!" he whimpered when he felt the muscle vice around his shaft.

"YES! YES! YES!" she screamed when her back bent backwards and his warm liquid filled her.

"YES! YES! YES!" he groaned when he felt his come shoot out and into her warmth.

And then he tensed with noises that sounded like "Hm, hm, hm" and "huh" pants of air to release the tension.

And she embraced him with her legs around his back and her arms around his shoulders and her hands in his hair, pulling his head to the side of hers and panting into his ear.

And in this way they stayed, enveloped in purple light.

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A/N: So, Shagfest 4 Anyone?

Enough clues for the compow? No? Need more?

Keep reading – on this site - soon

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