.

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Author's Note:

Hello lovely reader,

This is a friendly reminder/warning that there will be some dominant/submissive themes in the following chapter(s).

If that's not your cup of tea, you may not love Draco in this story as he is definitely quite dominant.

(Ignore this next bit if you don't want to know when smut happens:

If you are reading this on FFN, you are fine until chapter twenty-six when

all of the really explicit scenes will be altered for FF guidelines.

I will give a warning and information on where to find

the non-censored version at the Author's Note of that chapter -

I'll also stop mentioning it til then.)

With love,

Syren

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XXIV: Temperance

Left to his own devices, Draco Malfoy was not impulsive.

He didn't jump to action without thoughtful consideration. To those who struggled to read between the lines, he could have been considered mysterious. But he prided himself on strategy, care, and calculation. Especially if he'd been hurt.

You don't pet a cat twice if they scratched you once. You get burned one time, and only one time. All subsequent risks must be met with diligent precaution.

Except with Granger.

It didn't matter what he told himself. It didn't matter how debilitating the pain when she pushed him aside, causing him to feel more anguish in his isolation with her than he'd felt earlier when the weight of the world had been cast on his shoulders. More agonizing than he'd ever admit to anyone.

The steely apathy that he had crafted into a skillful art had no power over the emotions he developed for her. And after resolving to be without her - happy to know she was safe, of course, but unable to have her and keep her as his.

That fucking hurt.

So when she dropped that mysterious revelation on him, sobbing and seeking his forgiveness, he froze.

Of course he did.

He fought all impulses to immediately take her back into his arms. To hold her, cradle her, and tell her it's okay. To allow her to atone and trust that she will never hurt him again.

Draco was no fool, and it was foolish to think that everything was okay.

A part of him anticipated that she would eventually come around. The truth would find her eventually - though he expected to be long gone, taken by the hand of cruel fate before she could open her eyes and see him for who he was. Truth be told, he had hardly expected to live long enough for any semblance of revelation to unfold.

He had not yet been murdered by the Dark Lord, and Hermione had learned - somehow - of his heinous crimes against the Dark Master. She learned of his traitorous, murderous personality. She learned about his love for her, learned that he had left everything to save her. Impulsively and irrationally discarded his life and family for her.

All this after being mocked and accused of being cruel toward her. Like she knew cruelty.

He'd been cast aside and treated like the villain he fought so hard not to become.

Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, she begged for his forgiveness and had the nerve to kiss him. After everything, she deigned to touch him like that again. It was completely unexpected, unwarranted, and unnerving. So, naturally, he tried to understand what to do.

Not what he wanted to do.

What he had to do - for them both.

Take her in, accept her, and love her unconditionally? He wanted that, but that was dangerous. Potentially painful. Must tread carefully.

Ask her more about her conversation with Potter? That would be a start.

Find out what made her turn so quickly from one conclusion to the other? Yes. He should know that. If she were to toy with his emotions and swing from one side of the pendulum to the next, he needed even more steely reserves than the fortresses he had built within himself.

Well, all that went out the window.

He could taste the salt of her tears. He could feel the heat from her face as he embraced her. His fingers slipped back into her curls as his other snaked around her waist and pulled her up until her feet left the ground. His kiss was not urgent. It wasn't desperate, it wasn't without thought. It was hungry, but intentional.

Holding her by the waist, Draco leaned forward and dipped her back, cradling her head as his tongue pressed against her lips before finding hers. He had taken over her. Taken her in her broken state and reinstated her broken pieces, placed delicately together with an unexpected sense of desire and belonging.

And she kept begging for more.

Her hands cupped his face, holding him there lest he pulled away. She couldn't allow that.

He tightened his grip on her hair and squeezed, causing a soft moan of surprise to escape her throat. Whatever hunger she could sense in him, she matched tenfold. She had been aching for his embrace for days - since discovering how mistaken she'd been, how wrong she was in casting him away - and as he held her still with his warm lips and firm touch, her whole body felt raw, her heart especially.

Hermione's hands caressed the broad space of his back, down the sharp dip of his shoulder blades, and over the narrow curve of his spine before trailing toward the smooth skin of his side. She could feel the faint scar tissue where he had been struck by the quill, leaving a thin bump of healed skin where the needles had punctured.

His lips grew eager against hers as he drew her head to the side, his tongue pressing hungrily against hers before withdrawing to suck and nibble at her lip. His fingernails moved painfully slowly as they dug and dragged over her ribs just under her breast, eliciting a coarse hot shiver that started at her neck and washed down her spine, the heat settling and collecting in the familiar space at the bottom of her torso.

Another moan was muffled against eager lips as her hands followed the trail of arousal that she imagined must be affecting him as strongly as it had been affecting her. They traced the lines of his abdomen that narrowed as she continued downward before settling against the hardness of his hipbones. She could feel the silky barrier of his boxer briefs and a finger grazed the skin just above the fabric before it slipped under the stretchy waistband.

Draco pulled back from the kiss with a look of surprise, startling them both. His eyes met hers and the searing hunger gave way as his lips morphed to a smirk at her move.

His hands released their hold in her hair and drew away from the modest exploration of her back and sides as she felt his fingers graze over her forearms before wrapping around her wrists and drawing her hand away from his only article of clothing. He gave the delicate bones of her wrists another squeeze, reminding her of his control over her.

Her eyes were hooded as she glanced up at him under thick lashes, meeting his steely eyes which sparkled with amusement. He held her gaze, his lip curling into a deeper smirk as he leaned forward, leading the captured hands behind her back where he folded and held them in place at the base of her spine.

She released a shaky, nervous breath as he leaned into her, pressing a gentle, almost innocent kiss to her forehead before his lips trailed toward her neck.

"Such a hasty girl," he whispered his hot breath into her ear, "aren't you?"

He drew back, anticipating the familiar blush that crawled into her face at his words. He knew what she wanted, yet the brave Gryffindor - now averting her gaze from embarrassment - seemed to always back down once called out on it.

"Draco," she whispered softly, the sound carrying like a moan to his ears. It was melodic and delicious, and he felt his muscles tighten at the sound.

He released his hold of her wrists against her back, instead drawing her wrists outward to slowly spin her around, moving her to face away from him as he held her still. Her arms were wrapped in front of her torso in an X as her back pressed into his chest. She could feel the tightness of his grip on her wrists, controlling her movements and drawing distance between her hot skin and his.

He swayed her, as though in a slow dance, as his face nuzzled in her hair.

Gently, he tilted her head to rest against his shoulder as he pressed small, delicate kisses onto her neck. He let his lips slide from one kiss to the next, letting his hot breath caress her tender flesh as he did so.

"I missed that," he murmured the words into her skin. Whether he meant the kiss, her touch, or the way anytime she moaned his name he was forced to fight against the urge to bend her over the rocky edge and take her, it didn't matter. He missed it all.

"I missed you," she whispered with a shaky breath. His fingers flinched around her wrists and he squeezed tighter. A moment passed before his grip loosened and he turned her around to face him once more. Her hands ran over his arms absentmindedly, taking advantage of their newfound moment of freedom. His skin was risen and slightly prickly with goosepimples.

His gaze seared into hers, and she could see the focus and passion in his stormy eyes.

"Did you?" he breathed.

Hermione smiled, though her eyes betrayed the sadness of knowing how much she'd missed him. Even in the moments that she had believed him to be evil and cast him aside, her body still yearned for him, her mind still wandered to the happy memories they had made together. When she discovered that she had been wrong about his intentions, it hurt to be without him. She desperately craved his company: his banter, his laughter, his touch. No matter what happened, and often to her dismay, she felt drawn to him like magnets seeking their opposite. She fought so hard against it. Stifled it under her rage and feelings of betrayal. It had poured out with equal force as soon as she removed the stopper.

"Very much," she murmured back, cupping his cheek.

Urgently, and without need for another word, Draco drew her in to fill the sliver of space that remained between them, and pressed his lips against hers once more.

There was no control in the kiss.

No deliberation or calculated purpose. He kissed her with the same urgent desperation that she had brought. He pressed assertively against her. She relinquished to his forcefulness, and submitted to his familiar touch in an instant as his fingers slipped into her hair and held her where he wanted her. His hands roamed and squeezed, holding her tightly as if to never let her go.

She felt light. She'd forgotten how at home she felt being in Draco's arms again, the familiarity of his kiss and his fervid touch. She was utterly lost in it. Her fingers dug into his smooth, strong back while he let out a soft groan into her lips, the sexy, primal sound sending shockwaves over her. She pressed into him harder, her hips glued to his as his fingers dug into the flesh of her waist.

Where he had been keeping her at a courteous, romantic distance during their first embrace, now she could feel everything. His desire for her was undeniable as it pressed hard into the base of her torso, the passion of wanting her, yearning for her touch for so long seared hot into their kiss as she embraced it, and matched it with her own longing for him.

The heat of the water suddenly felt too intense as the humidity seemed to linger around, mingling with the heavy fog of desire that surrounded them.

It was too much.

It was like the world had fallen away and all that was left was them.

His lips trailed down, giving her a chance to catch her breath as he dotted hot kisses over her jawbone and down her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, her breathing ragged and audible against his ear. It was impossible to keep his fingers from wandering. They squeezed and scratched as they made their way up the full curve of her hip, dipping as they ran over her small waist, and rose against over her ribcage. He ran his fingertips gently over the fabric of her breast, feeling the small bump of her hardened nipple which caused her to gasp.

"Draco," she whispered softly, her voice barely carrying over the sound of rushing water, "I want you."

His fingers ran up over her chest, letting droplets of water stream down between her breasts as his fingers slowly crawled their way upward to her jaw. His eyes drank her in. Her curls had grown frizzy against the humidity and her fair skin was flushed with pink as blood rushed to the surface of her skin. Her lids were half closed, lips half parted, betraying her utter openness and state of relaxation.

He ran his thumb over her chin, then up over her lower lip. He gently dragged her lip down, toying with her body before he slipped the slightest bit between her lips. With a sharp intake of steaming air, he watched as her plump, pink lips willingly and eagerly wrapped around the finger, drawing it into her mouth as she ran the tip of her tongue against the skin and applied subtle suction. She could almost feel him swelling against her as his eyes grew dazed at her move.

He pulled away, and a small cry of victory rang in Hermione's head as she watched him struggle to compose himself.

At that moment, she would do anything for him. He could say the word, and she would obey.

And he would savor the everloving hell out of it.

She could just imagine how it would feel when...

"Not here."

The words barely came out as his hoarse voice tried to find stability.

Disappointment sunk in her like a stone in water.

"Why?" was all she could manage to say. He cleared his throat and, cupping some water in his hands, ran his wet hands over his face. "Draco - why?"

She was sick of the torture. Of the hunger and need, with no hopes of alleviating either.

"Does any of this seem familiar to you?"

He cupped handful upon handful of water which he drew over his head, his body, forcing his body temperature and arousal down.

"Er - the kissing?"

"This area," he corrected, his still hazy eyes twinkling with amusement. Her face must have shown her discomfort and disappointment, because he ran his fingers over her cheeks, a faint look of empathy and pity in his features.

She looked around, growing a bit impatient as she tried to stare at - what? The trees? The water?

It felt novel. She thought she might remember a location so aesthetically perfect.

"I'm not sure... Should it?"

"You haven't been here before?"

She glanced at him in confusion. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold and feeling unusually exposed.

"Perhaps at night," he prodded, "before we were brought here by the Hippogriff?"

Her eyes grew wide as her brows rose.

"Is this where... The night that you got injured?"

Draco nodded slowly, watching her reactions as she looked around once more. It seemed so different now than it had on the night she'd found him: under the moonlight, face down, and calf streaming with hot blood as he had been struck down by the centaurs. She remembered this area in particular for its unusual allure. For its overwhelming sense of purity.

She had only read about a location like it in books, and the following day upon returning to Hogwarts she had poured through a few of her texts to confirm her suspicions.

And they had. The space was special indeed; impossibly rare to stumble upon given the act that had taken place here.

"But - how is that possible? What are the..."

"Chances?" he finished her thought, before leaning back against the rock as he soaked in the steaming water. "I'm not sure. Odd, isn't it?"

The place that she had found him, on the night that she had saved his life from the charging centaurs, and the place that they were now, soaking in pure bliss, was the site of a unicorn birth.

She ran through the description from the books in her mind. The impossibly rare and blessed creatures only had about one to two offspring in their entire, long lives, and it was said that the place where a unicorn is born was blessed. The location was often used for Divination practices and healing, though there was little evidence that either practice benefited from such a setting. Still, there seemed to be an unusual draw to the location. Miracles were documented to happen at unicorn natal sites.

Hermione didn't doubt it. The space around her felt blessed.

She watched him run the water over his arms, lost in his own thoughts. She could see the muscles in his neck flexing and relaxing, his body unusually tense. He was holding his breath. Trying to calm his hyper-sensitive skin while all she wanted to do was touch and squeeze and bite and kiss the skin he was trying so desperately to soothe.

"So... why not here?" She stared at him blankly. Wouldn't this be the most romantic place in the entire forest?

"Granger," he said with a slight edge to his voice. "It's just not the right place..."

There was something in the way he said the words that made her question what he was keeping from her.

"Because it's outside?"

"No," he responded simply. "Quite pushy, aren't you?"

She couldn't deny the accusation and turned away with a slight frown in her lips as she, for the second time that day, felt like dunking her whole head in the water and just letting the current take her away.

There was something he wasn't saying. Something about here, not just about it being outside.

The place was almost sacred. Magical, with immense draw toward tranquility and grace.

"Oh."

As she considered who Draco was and what their recent, well, misunderstandings entailed, Hermione understood that it was indeed the location that Draco had qualms with. The magic. Draco was hesitant to cross any bridges with her - here specifically - because of its unique properties; because those properties could influence her.

He wasn't taking any chances with her.

He preferred a neutral space, without the extra layer of environmental relaxation, where she could openly, honestly, and intentionally give in to him. She respected that.

The problem with respect was that it didn't make her hormones stop raging. It didn't help with that nagging, burning desire that still thirsted in her bones. No, respect wasn't doing that.

"Okay," she responded, forcing a tone of confidence in her voice. "Not here."

He looked at her, surprised, as though not expecting her to relent. He nodded slowly before reaching for his wand and pointing it to his palm. With a brief incantation, a dollop of white, incandescent foam swirled into his hand.

"Right, then," he smiled calmly, "would you like a bath?"

She stared at him suspiciously like he was playing a prank on her, or testing her somehow.

Yet, she really really did want a bath. The problem with having naturally curly hair was that it required moisture to maintain the beautiful ringlets and voluminous waves. With proper hydration, perhaps some oils, the curls would remain bouncy, intact, and - most importantly - not frizzy. During her time caring for Draco, and fending for herself in the wilderness, she had relied almost exclusively on Scourgify spells to clean herself - and that did not help her curls one bit. They had grown dry, fizzy, and lifeless.

So yes, she very much did want a bath.

He summoned her with a twist of his finger and a small smile, drawing her in to sit on the enchanted rock-bench he had put together. Using his wand, he cast water down onto her hair, soaking her messy caramel locks before running his fingers through her hair, letting his nails softly scratch her scalp as she purred and leaned into it. He ran the foam over her hair and massaged it in, letting the floral fragrance coat each strand. He gently ran his fingers through, combing the ends that had knotted and connected together after days of neglect.

With his wand, he poured warm water over her hair to wash the soap suds away before his fingers moved downward. They wandered over her neck as he squeezed and kneaded her skin, massaging the tense muscles and tight knots that had formed.

Draco added more soap, letting the bubbling suds soak over her shoulders and arms as he rubbed it over her.

When her eyes weren't shut from the sheer pleasure of the physical touch, she glanced at him as his fingers deftly cleaned her forearms and moved to her wrists and fingers. His fingers intertwined with hers as he gently massaged her palms. What a weird mystery he was. She was trying really hard not to sexualize the interaction, but it was near impossible after their physical encounter just moments ago. He was just cleaning her...

"Lift up your arms," he instructed, focusing deeply on his task. She obeyed curiously as her hands rose above her head. The white soap trickled down her already covered arms. His fingers lightly caressed her throat before drawing downward. His thumb traced over the top of her breast, before he slipped a hand into her bra, his fingers dragging over her sensitive skin before he gave her a small, possessive squeeze.

A harsh jolt of pleasure rushed through her before Hermione gasped and pulled away, dropping her hands to cover her chest.

"Didn't like that?"

"You're teasing me!" she accused, her eyes wide with sudden horror as she realized his intention. "You promised me you wouldn't tease!"

"I did no such thing," he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement as his fingers continued moving, slipping under her arms.

"Yes, you did!" She spoke emphatically, "In Salazar's bath, I made you promise you wouldn't tease me to kingdom come - remember?"

Draco shook his head before cupping water from the stream and letting it fall over her shoulders, washing away the layer of suds to reveal her beautiful ivory skin.

"That must have been someone else. I expressly remember declining your statement and intentionally not making that promise."

She gasped, feigning outrage. "Oh you prat. You're bathing me to wind me up and tease me all day!"

Draco lifted a brow, his gaze meeting hers.

"Prat, ey? Watch that dirty tongue of yours, or I'll have to clean it for you," he threatened.

Or at least she thought he threatened. He didn't sound particularly offended or upset.

He held her gaze and she stiffened as he held the suds, letting two fingers dip deliberately slowly before he reached to run it over her back.

He wouldn't.

All bark and no bite. What a Slytherin boy he was.

She rolled her eyes.

"Sure you wi-"

Before she knew it, she could feel his palm against her chin, his fingers pressing into her cheeks to force her jaw open and lips apart. Her eyes widened at the sudden seriousness of his features and her inability to pull away as he held her mouth open.

She gasped and struggled against him. With a blatant, cruel smile, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her open mouth before releasing her.

Hermione stared with shock as he used up the rest of the soap he'd threatened her with to cover his own arms and shoulders. When he was done cleaning himself, an amused smirk still plastered on his face, Draco reached to take her wrist and drew her in, pressing the softest kiss to her cheekbone.

"Don't challenge me," he murmured into her skin.

She scowled at him and he gently grazed his knuckle against the line that her pout was causing.

Prat was the mildest thing she wanted to call him in that moment.

She could feel the heartbeat in her chest as that pressure of arousal that lived between her legs started throbbing again. She didn't understand why. She had forgotten his teasing nature. How in the same moment she wanted to punch him and kiss him - among other things.

Before her thoughts could grow too deep, his fingers brushed her hair aside and he pressed soft, breathy kisses against her neck and throat, lulling her into a sense of pure bliss. She let out a sigh as his fingers trailed the kisses down her throat and over her collarbone before his lips nipped at her earlobe and his hot breath covered the sensitive skin, forcing goosepimples to form all over.

"Look at you," he whispered against her skin, pressing kisses over her shoulder as his fingers lead the way down over her arm, "All healed. No more pain?"

It took Hermione a moment to realize that she was all healed. She had been so preoccupied with taking care of Draco that she forgot she'd stopped using her burn salve and Bomwat venom to treat the burn wounds that had marred and tormented her. The skin was nearly perfect and barely scarred, thanks to the venom that Draco had procured.

"Come," he whispered, "let's finish up and get back to the cave."

The words pulled her out of her sense of tranquility as reality dawned on her. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to go into the forest again. This space, this sacred space, felt safe. And everything else, perhaps with the exception of the cave, was damned and horrid and scary. The Forest was teeming with death. With danger. The Forest is where Draco had been hurt. Where the rotting, decayed corpse lay resting in the earth.

She didn't want to go. Her mind spun on itself - what if there was more death and danger?

"What is it?" he asked, his brows knit together with concern as he studied her face. Blood had drained from her skin, and she could feel her fingers growing cold as she shook her head.

It's only a few minutes to the cave, she told herself. It will be fine.

"I've placed wards on the whole path, Hermione, and a detector if anything or anyone approaches - it's safe," Draco reassured, still searching as he watched her face for any clue regarding her behavior.

Hermione nodded.

It's safe.

It will be fine.

She nodded again, forcing herself to believe him.

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Author's Note:

Hi.

I swear I'm not teasing.

I promise sex is coming.

(see earlier AN for when)

Please don't hate me – unless you're enjoying the teasing, in which case you're welcome. ;D

I wanted to say thank you to everyone on the FB groups who recommended this story

and/or commented on my updates with affirming and positive feedback

(you know who you are, I've already told you you're making me cry with your niceness).

I am floored by how incredibly sweet and supportive you are.

If you're on Tumblr, add me! I'm new!

You can find me at syrengrey ddott tumblr ddott com

AND on FB as Syren Grey.

I'm in all the major FB Dramione (and Sevmione and Lumione etc) groups.

Message me, be my friend, I'm new to fandom and want to be your friend!

Please please review, it is the only thing I need to survive and thrive nowadays!

Reviews and red wine.

Syren