Note: Updates will be on Saturdays from now on! Classes started back up. Chapter is currently unedited!
This chapter was originally planned out a lot differently, but it became something else entirely because I had to cut it in half again.
There is also some drama/argument with Harry this chapter, but please don't worry. It will all be resolved; Harry is not anyone's enemy. They are humans and humans argue.
Remember to join the FB group! HoneySweetWriting. If I make it to 200 members, I really want to write you guys a one-shot that will only be available to group members.
To the reviewer who said I had good taste in music: I love you. You are the first person ever in all of my fanfictions to like the same music as me.
Chapter 32 - Heat
Had Enough - Don Toliver ft. Quavo, Slouch by Dance Gavin Dance, North$ide by Destiny Rogers, and Block Out the Noise by Jonny Craig
Draco POV
Draco walked to class so fast that he nearly outed himself as a werewolf-Veela-whatever-the-fuck to a couple of First Year witches that were skipping up from the Slytherin common room. He forced himself to slow down, his heart racing in his chest as he trotted down the stairs to the corridor.
He couldn't believe it. Hermione's random theory had been correct. He'd thought she was mad with the idea, but she was right. She was always right. He didn't know if it was a demon, but he knew something had taken up residence inside of him. Something that had the power to hold back his raging desire to mate with Hermione. Even to hold back the ire of his wolf.
What kind of creature had that power?
You need me, the voice had said.
In what way? Draco had thought back, no longer caring if it felt nuts to talk to himself.
I can keep you from tearing her clothes off and rutting her like a dog in heat in front of all your little friends. How's that work?
Draco hadn't said anything. It worked.
When he got to Potions, even the barrier wasn't enough to keep him from noticing Hermione's disposition. She was the only one in the room so far besides Slughorn, who was at the back of the room messing about with a millipede that didn't want to be boiled.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn sang with a wry grin. "Do make sure never to forget to stupefy your millipedes before you try to cut them up."
Draco's eyes never left Hermione's back at the front of the room, his hand pushing through his hair as he replied.
"Professor, surely you already knew that?"
"I did," he responded. "But I'm afraid I am old, my dear boy, and my mind simply isn't what it used to be. I merely misplaced the order of my memories."
Draco peered at him. "Right . . ."
He strode forward with purpose towards his witch, who nearly leapt to the ceiling when he plopped down in the seat beside her. He faced her, placing a hand on the back of her seat, and then he studied the side of her face. She looked as white as a sheet. His knee brushed her thigh through her robes.
"So, it comes and goes in waves, then?" He murmured.
She let out a tiny squeak and ducked her head down. Draco looked at her lap, seeing her hands gripping fabric with pale knuckles. "Please . . . Don't talk like that."
"Like what?"
She turned her face away, lifting her left shoulder up as if hunching away from him. "In that tone. So gravelly. Stop."
He narrowed his eyes in confusion. He was using his normal voice, wasn't he?
"What are you - ?"
"Malfoy?"
Draco and Hermione both turned to look at Potter, who stood there with a suspicious look on his face. He was eyeing Draco's hand on Hermione's chair from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Draco, who was beyond confused and worried for Hermione, and who could feel her turmoil like a raging firestorm in his magic, shot him an annoyed look.
"That has been my name for the past nineteen years, Potty. Congratulations. O for perfect memory."
"Draco," Hermione hissed.
Potter rolled his eyes and then dropped his satchel with a plop on the other side of Draco's seat. "We both know you'd be a horrid professor, Malfoy. You'd be sleeping in the middle of your own lecture and awarding points to Slytherins for breathing."
"Don't forget taking points away from Gryffindors just because," Draco said with a smirk. He turned back to Hermione, who seemed to have gotten paler in the last few moments. Behind her, he saw students filing in, giving him perturbed looks, likely due to the fact that he was sitting in-between the Golden Boy and the Golden Girl.
"This is just an ongoing nightmare," Potter was muttering as he pulled out parchment and quill. He continued to shake his head. "I'll wake up, and it'll be Ron sitting beside me. And it'll be Fifth Year. Wands-down, that was my best year. Got my first snog, and it was ace. Ran a club. Malfoy, were you - were you in our club?"
Draco glowered at him, his hands tightening around the back of Hermione's seat. "No. Unfortunately, I was excluded, and had I not -"
"Draco!" Hermione's voice sounded needling, but it lacked its usual fire.
Draco was still seething towards Potter. "- been excluded, then perhaps I wouldn't have felt the need to involve Umbridge in my knowledge of your potential activities."
Potter smirked. "So for you, Fifth Year was the year you got a stick up your arse because you had suddenly decided to try and play for the right Quidditch team?"
Draco could feel himself losing his temper, regardless of the barrier the creature had pulled up for him. He wanted to hurt Scarhead. He wanted to make him suffer. He wanted him to feel pain.
The voice inside Draco's head cackled.
"Sure. But Sixth Year. That was my year." Draco turned to face him fully, casually laying his hand on the back of Potter's chair instead. "D'you recall? I accomplished complicated cursebreaking on my own, shagged a couple times in the Room of Requirement . . . I did something else that year -"
"Draco!" Hermione sounded horrified, but her words fell upon deaf ears.
Draco wasn't here anymore.
"I asked you," he said slowly to the trembling, ashen-faced Potter, "Do you . . . Recall?"
Potter slowly turned to face him, and Draco felt the point of his wand digging into the lower part of his sternum. "I recall. I also recall that I killed your Dark Lord. Do you recall that, Malfoy? I recall despising you. I've never stopped despising you. I don't know what's going on between you and Hermione, but I will never stop watching to see if you hurt her."
Draco held his gaze coolly. There was something they could agree on. Because if Draco ever found himself hurting Hermione, he would find a way to kill himself without hurting her, and he would slit his own throat.
"Draco." Her voice had calmed, which was odd, and when he turned to look at her, she was finally looking back at him.
The moment their eyes met, she either pushed her magic towards him on purpose, or it was so strong that he felt it. She was in agony. His eyes dropped down to her neck, seeing that she was flushed red on the skin about her collared shirt, and when his eyes dropped further, he saw that she was squirming slightly in her seat. He felt a surge of anxiety in his chest and, Potter forgotten, he turned away from the wizard's wand and faced Hermione again.
"What is it?" he murmured, his head ducking down to lock eyes with her. His hand went to the back of her chair again. He knew people were probably watching them, as it definitely looked like an intimate conversation, but he didn't care. His magic was spinning wildly, telling him his witch was in pain, and he was the only person who could fix it. "Is it a burning pain, or a stabbing pain?"
She opened her mouth and took a deep breath, then let out the smallest of whimpers. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands still fisted in her robes. Ahead of them, Slughorn was bustling about, preparing to start a long-winded - Draco assumed - lecture on the properties and uses of kelpie scales in potions.
"Burns," she whispered. "Everything burns. L-Like I'm on . . . Like I'm on f-fire."
"How can I help?" He felt like he was going to go mental, and he reached for her. He could feel his need beginning to grow, like last night, thrumming beneath the surface of his skin. He felt his panic increase - what if the magic took over? What if it was like they were animals? What if he attacked her in class, or she launched herself at him over a damn cauldron?
The voice said nothing, but Draco knew it was there. Whatever it was that was inside of him, Draco knew it would ensure that that didn't happen. The question was, why?
"I can't . . ." She gasped when his hand brushed her arm. He stared at the way her face went pale and eyes widened. She shook her head. "No, I can't do this."
"And you think I can?" he growled through gritted teeth.
He saw the growl ripple through her body. Her eyelids fluttered and she leaned against him, into the side of his chest. He stiffened and glanced to the left. Potter was jotting down the things Slughorn had begun to say, so at least he noticed. Who knew what the people behind them were thinking? He didn't really fancy seeing what Blaise thought, as it was likely insufferable, and he was sure the Weaselbee wasn't too brassed off. He seemed to be a lot less temperamental than he used to this year.
"I'm going to be s-sick," she whispered, and the desperation in her voice was undeniable. "I-It's too much."
Draco was freaking out internally. His hand lifted from the chair to comb through the hair at the back of her head knowing that everyone could see them from the back and not caring one iota. Her mouth fell open and her eyelids fluttered, and he felt her magic leaping with delight. When she opened her eyes again, the look in her eyes was eerily similar to the one she'd had last night when he was fucking her with his fingers. His brow furrowed.
"What, do you expect me to touch you under the table?"
"Something. Just . . . Something." She sounded almost delirious, her words descending from her lips where they begged to be plucked out of the air and consumed by him. He could sense her magic even more fervently now. It was overflowing, reaching for him.
"Fuck," he hissed, and he threw a glance over his shoulder. Everyone's heads were down, furiously writing to try and keep up with Slughorn's rambling. No one was looking at them, not even Blaise, and Slughorn was absorbed in writing on the chalkboard with his back to the room. He looked down at his witch again, her soft curls sliding through his fingers, and she looked unwell. Her hand landed heavily upon his thigh, squeezing his flesh so hard that it would have hurt if she had long fingernails.
"Please, Draco," she breathed, and her eyes seemed watery. "It. Hurts."
"You're mental! We are in class." He wasn't opposed to it, but she was Hermione Granger. Hermione was not the type of girl to do such things. Academia was sacred to her, he would have thought.
"I don't care!" she whispered, eyes wide. He felt a sudden anger coming from her magic, something raw and ravenous. Her voice was thick with emotion. "I don't care."
They were whispering frantically to one another, unaware that beside them, Harry was sending them surreptitious glances out of the corner of his eye.
"When we get out of class," he breathed into her ear before kissing the side of her head. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and she inhaled sharply. "I'll take you somewhere."
She whimpered, and Draco heard mental alarm bells. It was loud enough to be heard if anyone was trying to listen. The last thing he needed was Pothead thinking he was hurting her, and hexing his bollocks off.
"No more noises, you minx."
"I'm not a minx. I am in pain."
He ignored her and kept his hand on the back of her neck throughout the entire lecture.
When it was time to start working on the practice portion of the day, they were fortunate enough that Slughorn allowed them to choose their own partners.
"Hermione -" Harry started, but Draco shot him a deadpan look.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione said a bit breathlessly. Draco could feel sweat beading on the back of her neck.
Harry looked disappointed and concerned, all at the same time, but Ron was standing beside his seat soon enough. He gave them all a small smile and then looked to Harry.
"Oh, all right," Harry grumbled, slamming his quill down. He gave Draco one last scathing glare, and then he followed a chuckling Ron to his table.
Draco went to get the cauldron and ingredients, giving Blaise a look as they passed each other at the cupboard, and then he hurried back to the front table. He set the items down, watching Hermione moving to stand beside him on the other side of the table with stilted movements. He felt her pain through the tendrils of her magic that crept toward him and he tried not to grimace. They faced the classroom, the chalkboard at their backs, and silently began to work.
Hermione looked faint.
Draco pulled out his wand and transfigured her a stool to sit on. She sat, giving him a grateful look, and winced. Draco clenched his teeth. This just wasn't going to work. He could smell her slick through the barrier the creature gave him, and he could feel her torment. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.
He made an executive decision.
"I think I'll sit, too," he said, and she barely looked up from measuring out her poison apple cores. He transfigured himself a stool as well. "Granger, are you wearing trousers?"
She pulled a face of bemusion as she continued her diligent work. "No. A skirt. Why?"
Draco picked up a metal spoon and dropped it onto the ground. Hermione shot him a strange look.
"I dropped my spoon," he said loudly, leaning down to grab it with his left hand. On his way back up, he transferred the utensil to his right hand. His left hand stayed under the table, shoving its way inside of her robes, gripping her core through her skirt and outside of her knickers. Her mouth fell open slightly in a gasp as he squeezed. Her knickers were soaked. "Close your mouth."
He could feel her thighs trembling, her magic screaming at him with anticipation. He perched on the stool and leaned toward her, trying to make it look like he was helping her with something. He felt her hips squirming again, and his eyebrows shot up even as he stared at the cauldron.
"Settle, witch," he said in a sing-song voice. "You look like you're about to have a conniption fit."
She closed her eyes and rocked her hips against his hand. She was so wet that his fingers nearly slipped past the barrier of her knickers. He tried not to choke on his air, drawing upon all of his strength and self-control to keep from bending her over the table. Then, he banished those thoughts and gripped her more firmly in warning.
"After class. Stop moving."
"All right, mate?" Blaise asked from the table across the way and one back. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. His partner, a Seventh Year girl, kept working.
"All right. You?"
"I'm fine. Are you fine?"
"Never better."
Beside him, Hermione was disobeying. While holding her upper body extremely still, she was grinding her hips against Draco's palm. Her magic swirled around him, swaddling him with warmth, showing him without words that she needed more. He turned to look at her, seeing that her hands were flat on the table and she looked extremely worried. She was chewing her lower lip, her brows had knitted together, and her chest was rising and falling heavier than usual.
"Stop," Draco growled through his teeth, hardly moving his lips.
"I can't," she squeaked out in return, keeping her face turned towards the cauldron as she dropped more ingredients into the bubbling blue mixture.
"Is Hermione okay?" Potter asked from the table behind theirs, sounding worried. "She looks . . . Flushed. And rigid."
"More rigid than usual?" Draco looked to Hermione, who glared ferociously as the next round of ingredients. His fingers were massaging her clit now, and the cotton of her knickers was warm and wet with her slick. "Your Potter's worried about you."
"I-I'm f-fine, Harry," she said, her voice thin and reedy.
Potter started to come around the table, towards theirs at the front of the room. "Are you sure?"
Draco couldn't resist. It was either his magic or his own mischievousness, but he just couldn't resist.
"Yes!" she practically screamed as Draco pushed his fingers past her knickers and slipped them inside of her body. It took everything he had in his strength to keep from moaning at the feeling of how wet she was. She was drumming her fingers on the tabletop. "Yes, I'm . . . Okay."
Draco pleasured her for as long as he could before Slughorn started to wander over to the table. Draco hurriedly pulled his hand out of her body, knickers, and skirt. Slughorn paused in front of them, his eyes darting back and forth from Draco's smirking face and Hermione's flustered, panting one.
Casually, Draco lifted his hand to his lips and tasted her essence, right in front of the professor. She tasted heavenly, and Draco felt his magic launching outward in every direction. It was a wonder no one could feel it charging through the air.
Hermione stared at him in horror.
"You're not eating the slug slime, are you, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Slughorn looked concerned.
"No, sir. I spilled the honey." His eyes flitted to Hermione's, and his smirk deepened. "I couldn't resist tasting it."
"I have to use the loo," Hermione suddenly said in a small, frenzied voice. And then she was gone, scampering out of the room.
Draco looked at Blaise as Slughorn moved to Potter's table.
"Nasty," Blaise whisper-shouted with a wicked grin.
Draco merely smirked again, and then set to finishing the potion. By the time Hermione returned, she looked a bit green in the face. He raised an eyebrow as she came back over. She stood beside him, slightly behind him where he sat, one of her knuckles rubbing her eye almost shyly. She looked extremely unlike herself. Students were eyeing them, including a very perturbed Potter, and Draco turned slightly to look down at her.
"Did you . . . ?"
She shook her head, and her short curls bounced around her head. Her hand remained near her eye. It looked like she was near tears. "There were a bunch of Fourth Years skiving off class in there. Last thing I need is - is them thinking I'm some bizarre - some weird witch."
As he gazed down at her, at the way she looked at his chest instead of his eyes and the way she kept shuffling from one foot to the other, he realized that his tomfoolery wasn't helping anything. Draco felt his self-hatred trickling back in like a tiny stream of water between two mountains. She was in pain, it was his fault, and he'd been messing around, risking mortifying her just to have a laugh like a Fifth Year teenaged boy.
She needed him to comfort her, to care for her, and he'd just tried to have a laugh.
Draco tapped the fore and middle fingers of his right hand against her forehead through her fringe, right in full view of the classmates who were watching.
"Oi," he said, drawing her eyes. "Does it hurt too terribly?"
"It feels like I'm on fire," she said. "Like my entire body is on fire. And my stomach hurts - like it's twisting, or something. But I'm of conscious mind. What you - what you did only helped a little. But I need to . . ." She looked away, her cheeks burning bright red.
"I know what you need, little witch," he said soothingly, and his hand moved to take her chin. Her eyes darted to the side nervously, but Draco didn't care about the murmurs and whispers of shock. "After class, we'll go somewhere."
"Thank you," she said with a smile, sounding relieved.
They finished their potion, Hermione seeming a bit less stressed than before. Draco could still feel her magic, could still feel that she was in pain, but it didn't seem to be weighed down so heavily with helplessness. Draco tried not to focus on the fact that they were going to wander off together after class, focusing instead on keeping his eyes on Hermione.
She continued to smile to herself as she finished the potion herself. Draco leaned on the table on one elbow, his head tilting back as he looked up at her and watched her. Her smile brightened as she caught sight of him watching her.
"Why are you being so dodgy?" She stirred the cauldron.
"Dodgy?" He pursed his lips, giving her a reproachful onceover. "This is what I get for keeping my eye on you."
"Your eye on me?" She gave an incredulous laugh. "I don't need anyone to keep their eye on me, Draco."
"You could be attacked," he said, gazing down at his nails.
"Attacked. In Potions."
"You were attacked in the owlery."
"A case you have yet to solve, by the way."
"I've been a bit busy."
"Yes, watching to ensure I'm not crucioed in Advanced Potions."
"You never know. There's a Seventh Year back there, giving you the evil eye. Perhaps I should go speak with him."
"You're being dramatic."
Draco grinned. "That's my real name, actually. Ask Blaise."
"Oh, I don't need to ask Blaise to know you're dramatic."
Then, as the words they'd spoken settled in, Draco passed a hand over his face to try and hold back his laughter. She looked at him sternly.
"What's so funny?"
". . . Crucioed in Advanced Potions."
They looked at each other then, and it was the strangest thing. She grinned like a madwoman, then began to laugh, and it infected Draco and caused him to laugh, and then the two of them were laughing so hard that everyone in the room was staring at them. Draco, who was still leaning on one elbow, reached out and caressed her hip in a random how of affection that even he didn't understand, his laughter fading into a faint smile, and he saw her cheeks redden.
"You're rather showy today," she said quietly, her hands on the table in front of her. "Why?"
"No reason," he said in a low voice. "Just feeling like a mug today."
"The only mug here is me," she said, her eyebrows animated as she performed the last incantation on the potion. "For letting you trick me into thinking you actually fancy me."
"I do fancy you," he said, his hand slipping around to her lower back as he glanced down into the cauldron. "In fact, I'd very much like to snog you. Right in front of all of these children."
She was blushing, but she gave him a reprimanding look. Then, she began rambling, not looking him in the eye as she spoke. "You shouldn't throw things like that around lightly. We don't even know if the things you feel are related to your species, or if they're how you really feel. What we do know is before you were infected, you called me a chavvy little Mudblood right here in this room, so we have to be careful."
What? How had they gotten 3 steps forwards and 45 steps back in a matter of one night? Draco felt her words slicing through to the core of him, and though he wanted to see logic behind it all, it was difficult. What was yesterday? And last night? All the things he'd admitted and said? Did she hear them and think he was lying?
He reached out with his magic, even though he was so hurt, and was surprised to find a deep wealth of insecurity running through her body. It seemed so unlike her, yet it was entwined so deeply within the roots of her magical core that it was undeniable.
Though he was still miffed, Draco knew he was going to have to try harder to get her to see that it was real. What he felt was real. It felt so real to him that he'd done things for her before Crabbe scratched him. Hell, Crabbe had scratched him while Draco was in the process of trying to find out who attacked her in the owlery! Yes, he would have to try again, and try harder.
Hermione raised her hand to get Slughorn's attention, before Draco could respond and tell her he did, in fact, actually fancy her. The potion was complete.
"Excellent work, Miss Granger," Slughorn said, his eyes twinkling at Hermione. Then, he gave Draco a sour look. "And a T for the day, Mr. Malfoy."
Hermione burst out laughing - apparently not having realized how much her rambling speech had wounded him - which went unnoticed by Slughorn, and Draco glowered at her. Then, he sat up straight.
"May I ask why, Professor?"
"You ate the classwork, Mr, Malfoy," Slughorn said with a sniff. "And that just won't do."
With that, he turned and marched to the next partner pair with completed work.
Draco, who was fuming, struggled not to let his anger overwhelm him. Potter was giving him a smug look, and Draco desperately wanted to whip out his wand and jinx him for it. Draco knew he had worked on the majority of that potion, and he didn't deserve a T.
Behind him, Hermione's laughter was grating on his nerves. He felt the barrier starting to come down, and he didn't know if it was because of the creature inside of his head, or because his wolf was taking over. Before he could stop himself, he snapped at her.
"Oh, come off it, Granger. Just because you've never received anything less than an E, doesn't mean you can have yourself a fucking laugh."
He regretted it the moment he said it.
She stared at him in shock, her jaw dropping as she processed what he had said. Her magic shrunk away from him faster than his could hold onto it, and then he saw her chin begin to tremble. She looked devastated, completely unlike the Hermione Granger who had fought the war and won. Draco's magic sprung out toward her, trying to figure out what was wrong, leaving him even more perplexed.
"It's the bond, I think," she said in a tremulous voice, her eyes filling with tears. "It's telling me I'm not pleasing you. It's telling me I'm bad."
Draco stood up with lightning speed, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the door. Potter, the Weaselbee, and Slughorn all called after them, Potter having realized Hermione had large tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggled not to sob. Draco cursed and yanked her in front of him when they were inches away from the door, wrapping and arm around her waist as they stumbled out of the classroom. He didn't care who saw.
She was his, she needed him, and it was all his fault.
"Don't cry," he said when they were in the corridor, a few meters away from the door. He held her face between his hands, dropping frantic kisses to her pouting lips. "Don't cry. I'm not angry. I just lashed out."
"Am I bad?" she whimpered, her pupils dilated and eyes wild. It was like it wasn't even her. It wasn't even Hermione.
He shook his head, panic and magic clouding all rational thought. He walked her backwards until her back hit the far wall, and then he was kissing her deep enough to steal her breath away. He kept tight hold of her face, mumbling of course not into her mouth until her tongue swept tentatively through his own. The moment it did, he felt the barrier trembling and his magic seeping through to wind its way tightly around her own.
"Am I?" she kept repeating, her magic shaking violently with despair. "Am I bad?"
"You're good. You're so good," he whispered desperately, and then his hands moved away from her face. He placed one hand on the wall beside her head and the other one into her robes, on her hip, pulling it away from the wall and against his own as he swayed to the sensual rhythm of their tongues' dancing. He could feel his control slipping, the barrier pulling away from his magical core a bit further, and he groaned against her lips.
Hermione's fingers slipped through his hair, using it as an anchor as she pulled herself onto her toes and kissed him back with more need than he expected her to. His fingernails scraped against the wall, claws gouging shallow furrows into the stone that would always be there, forever a reminder for the youth of tomorrow of the salaciousness of their snogging. The door to the classroom was right behind them, across the hall. The thrill of it threaded through Draco's body, just as he could feel it threading through her magic.
Her lips tore away from his and her hands yanked his head down. She tilted her head to the side, pushing it against his throat, a low moan leaving her lips. He immediately kissed her skin, his tongue laving against her pounding pulse, and he felt her entire body shivering in response. She moaned again, and then she began to whisper things into his ear that had no business being spoken in the hallway outside of a school classroom.
"Draco, please. Please. I need to cum. I need it. It hurts so bad. Please make me cum."
And she kept saying those things, kept whimpering them into his ear as she repeatedly tugged at his hair. Even as his hand left her hip and slid up the hem of her uniform vest and shirt, feeling her heated skin, she continued to plead with him. He felt all of the blood rushing through his body, straight to his -
"Miss Granger?! Mr. Malfoy?! What in Merlin's beard are you doing?"
Draco froze and for a moment, his wolf shoved aside the barrier and jumped forward. He whirled around, shoving the panicked, wide-eyed Hermione behind his body. When he saw that it was just Professor Slughorn, he relaxed infinitesimally, the wolf skulking backward. He kept his hand behind him, laid against her waist. He could feel her embarrassment poisoning her magic, making it almost impossible for Draco to feel anything else.
"I do not want to hear an explanation," Slughorn said, throwing his hands up and turning to go back into the classroom. He couldn't even look the two of them in the eye. "It's detention for the both of you, starting after Winter Break. And I don't want to hear a word about it! Back inside to class, this instant!"
Hermione screamed as soon as the door swung shut. "Detention?! I'm me! I don't get detention!"
Draco turned and looked at her with one eyebrow up. "Are you forgetting First Year?"
She ignored him and tangled her fingers in her hair. She stamped her foot and he felt her magic starting to seep out towards him again.
"What the fuck is going on?"
Draco couldn't help it. She was like a little bombarda spell. He laughed heartily, holding his stomach as he let the mirth take over.
"Oh, my Merlin," Hermione squeaked out, and she peeked up at him through her fingers. "I'm mortified."
Draco gathered the very confused, shaken Hermione up into his arms, his back hunching over her almost protectively and lips dropping to kiss her cheek. She hooked her arms underneath his, clutching the fabric at the back of his blazer, and then she buried her face in his chest. Draco held her for a moment, because he realized he never really had, and he tried to bury down the hurt he'd felt earlier at her words. Because it was his fault she felt like she couldn't trust the things he said, and it was his fault that she thought he didn't want to mate with her because she was Muggle-born.
He'd already told her that that wasn't true, but her insecurities ran so deep that she didn't believe him. He needed to find a way to show her.
"Skive off next class?" he whispered into her ear.
"Please."
"You'll skive off class to get off, but you don't get detention? Something is a little wrong there."
"Silence, prat."
Walking back into the room wasn't exactly a flight in the Pitch. Potter was glaring at him with suspicion, and all of the students in the room were watching them openly. Draco couldn't stop himself from keeping his hand on her lower back as they walked back to their table, and then when they were seated, his hand went directly to the back of her chair.
"Everyone else is still working," she whispered. "Should we just make something else?"
"No," he said, his eyes glued to her lips. His head felt fuzzy. "We can just sit. I already have a T, and we both have detention."
"It looks strange for us to be sitting here, doing nothing."
"I don't care," he growled, and he saw her back go rigid.
She gazed up into his eyes. "Then we sit."
And then he leaned in and, without giving a flying Snitch what anyone in the class thought, he kissed her square on the lips. He kissed her because he felt sorry for snapping at her, now that he knew the bond would make her fall apart if he did. He kissed her because he was falling for her. He kissed her because she was his. He kissed her because it was the first of many steps he was going to take to make her see that it was real for him.
Several gasps of astonishment erupted around the room, someone dropped a glass jar, and Potter's exclamation of, "What the actual fuck?" was the highlight of Draco's day.
It was a wonder Slughorn didn't send them both straight to McGonagall.
X
After class, Draco leaned against the wall outside the room. Hermione was currently arguing with Potter in the hallway, and Draco could tell that it wasn't going well. He'd decided to linger nearby, listening with his arms crossed, just in case she got upset. Her magic was all over the place, rife with sadness, hurt, and anxiety, and Draco's magic was telling him that it didn't matter how this looked: he needed to be near her at all times to ensure that she was all right.
"I'm just trying to figure out when it was that you went completely mental!" Scarhead was shouting. "I had no idea this was going on between you two, that it had gotten to this point!"
"You knew we were spending time with one another," Hermione said, raising her voice slightly.
"Yes, but I didn't think it was that sort of time!" Potty threw his hands up.
Draco felt his anger starting to boil. The barrier was back up over his magical core, so he knew the anger was coming from his own heart. He wanted to walk over there and tear Potter's head off. If it weren't for the fact that theGolden Boy mattered to Hermione, Draco would.
"Harry, please." Hermione's voice sounded emotional.
Draco narrowed his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall, arms remaining crossed.
"I don't even know what to say, or how to look at you. You know what his father did during the war. You know what Lucius did to Ginny. I forgave you speaking for him at his trial, but this?" Pothead slashed his hand through the air. "I was barely managing you being friends with him, and when you let him touch your hair, I nearly lost it, but I hung in there. But this?"
"It's not -"
"You are shagging the enemy!" Potter roared. "Shagging him is like shagging Lucius Malfoy, and I know this year you've been different, but are you so different that you've become a slag for the side of dark?!"
Draco saw Hermione flinch, and he could feel her fear and hurt in her magic. The Revel was still fresh in her mind, he knew from her confessions last night, and he would not have anyone terrifying Hermione. Especially not Potter. Draco understood that he was her best friend, but he had never liked the way Potter had treated her this year, and this was no exception.
"I'm not a slag."
Potter's face fell for a moment. "I know. I didn't mean - I'm just angry." He frowned. "And I'm worried about your safety. You don't know how he was that night in the Astronomy Tower. He lowered his wand, but he made a choice."
Draco felt his hands trembling. Potter did know how he was that night, and so did Draco. Draco knew he was terrified out of his mind and he had no desire to end the life of his Headmaster, a man who had been nothing but kind to him. Draco hadn't had a choice. He'd lowered his wand because in the end, he'd made a choice.
The right one.
Why couldn't anyone see that?
"He's not his father!" Hermione cried. "You don't know him the way I do. You don't know what he's done for me."
"That's because you never tell me anything anymore!"
"Because you've spent this entire year ignoring me!"
Potter's next words echoed around the corridor as he shouted, and they caused Hermione's magic to spill out all over the floor and come crawling frantically toward Draco's.
"Because you insist on spending all of your time with that prat!"
Draco saw red. He flashed forward, not caring about hiding his status, and stopped right behind Hermione. She gasped in surprise, and he put his hands on her shoulders. He glared at Potter, who was staring at him in perturbed shock. The Weaselbee, who had been standing and watching, now placed a hand on Potter's chest, giving him a confused, stern look.
"How did you move so quickly?" Scarhead asked, ignoring the Red Weasel.
Draco ignored him, pulling Hermione back firmly against him. She let out a sound, her head brushing his chest as she tilted it back to look up at him. She looked terrified, and her pupils were dilated again. Like she'd sunk into some other person's mind and wasn't herself anymore. Draco's magic was responding in a protective manner, wrapping its way tightly around them and filling his own mind with determination.
"See to it that you never yell at my witch again," Draco warned. "Or else I'll make another choice. One you really won't fancy."
"She's not your witch. She's Hermione Granger. She's no one's property."
"Harry, Draco, please!" Hermione cried, shooting them desperate looks. "Why can't you get along? Just for a little while?"
"Yeah, mate," the Weaselbee said, sounding exasperated. "You can't just shout at her."
"What are you?" Potter drew his wand, continuing to ignore his friends. He brandished it in Draco's direction. "What the fuck are you?!"
There was silence, and Draco's hands tightened on Hermione's shoulders. He supposed he'd known this was coming. He'd known, deep down, that there was no way he could hide his abilities forever. He didn't trust the Red Weasel, and he trusted Pothead even less, but Blaise knew. Perhaps Hermione had the ability to convince them not to report him. It was Draco's fault anyway, for allowing his temper to get out of control.
He wet his lips and prepared to present his fangs.
Hermione's hand came up to wrap around his fingers on her left shoulder and squeezed them tightly, as if she knew without even looking over her shoulder that he was irritated.
"Harry Potter, I love you," she said firmly, even though Draco could feel her despondence in her magic. "I love you and you are my absolute best friend, but I cannot let you treat me this way any longer. We have never fought like this before. You've never said these things to me before, and the rows we've had this year have been completely out of character for the both of us. Draco is in my life, whether you fancy that or not, and he's not going anywhere anytime soon. So you can either get on the same Portkey with us, or you can stay out of it. And I mean that, Harry. If you're going to choose to remain selfish, hateful, and holding that grudge, you will stay out of our business."
Draco wanted so desperately to kiss her, then, but he held himself back for fear of angering Potter worse and causing more issues. He chose instead to rub his right hand up and down her upper arm, to comfort the despair he felt through the bond, and Potter's eyes followed the movement of his hand.
Potter shoved his wand up into his sleeve. He muttered, "I need some time. Some time to think."
"Take the time then, mate," the Weaselbee said, patting him on the shoulder.
Potter shook his head, turned, and started towards the stairs. Draco felt a bit of panic in his chest as he wondered whether or not Potter was going to say anything to anyone, but he knew that there was nothing he could do. As badly as he wanted to hex the bollocks off of Potter, he couldn't do that without risking making things difficult with Hermione.
"Harry!"
Hermione broke free of Draco's hands and dashed after him. She grabbed his hand, stopping him. Draco held himself back, even though his magic didn't want her touching Potter.
"What?" Potter bit out through gritted teeth.
"Please don't say anything about what you saw," she pleaded. "I know you're angry, but . . . You don't understand."
Potter narrowed his eye down at her, and then he looked over the top of her head at the Weaselbee. The redhead was currently standing there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. A look of anger flashed across Scarhead's face.
"You told him, but you can't tell me?"
Draco looked at the Red Weasel in alarm, who suddenly threw his hands up and shook his head wildly.
"No, I didn't! Luna -"
"Perfect," Potter spat. "Just perfect. My best friends are friends with the wizard I hate the most, sharing secrets like First Years in the common room. Bloody perfect."
With that, he ripped his hand out of Hermione's grasp and stormed off towards the stairs.
Draco whirled on the Red Weasel, who went pale with terror as Draco ripped his wand out of his own sleeve.
"What do you know, Weaselbee?" he snarled, jamming it into the hollow of his throat.
"I know only a little," he said slowly. "I just know you drink - that it's - Luna let it slip on accident."
"How?" Hermione was there, arms folded and brow furrowed, standing beside them.
"I asked her for the vials we usually use for her - well, you know." The Weasel gulped, eyes locking with Hermione's. "Since we'll be in separate places for Winter holiday. And she said she didn't have them because she gave them to you two. I panicked and thought it was Hermione that needed the blood, but then Luna admitted it was you, mate."
"Don't call me mate," Draco spat, struggling to contain his anger. He glowered down at Hermione, but when he spoke, he remembered to keep calm. "I wasn't aware that you had spoken with Lovegood about it yet. I was under the impression that Vows would be involved."
"I told you I was going to," she said insistently. "You agreed that it was all right to tell them. I just haven't had a chance to tell you yet."
"And now," Draco said slowly, "this one knows, and by extension, so does your Potter. Do you have any idea -"
"Yes, Draco," Hermione said. "I know exactly what will happen if anyone finds out. But somehow, I think Harry will do the right thing by us."
Draco knew the "right" thing would be to report his status as a magical creature, but his desire for self-preservation won out. It always won out. That was why he'd been in the Astronomy Tower that night during Sixth Year in the first place. Because he'd put himself first.
He tucked his wand away and then gave the Weaselbee a curt nod. He still didn't trust him, but the oaf must have known for a certain amount of time. In that time of knowing, he hadn't given up any of the information he'd learned. Draco didn't know why or how the vermin was the one with the more level head out of him and Potter, but he was fortunate for it.
"Fine," he spat. "Bloody fine. But if you breathe a word of what you do know . . ."
"Got it." The Weaselbee nodded enthusiastically and then he scratched the top of his head. "And if it helps, I don't mind that the two of you are . . . Just know that I don't mind it, and if you guys need any help with anything, just let me know."
Hermione was smiling, and she grabbed onto Draco's hand with both of hers. "See?"
"Thanks for the permission," Draco said with a sneer. Then, he looked down at Hermione, still frustrated with the turn of events. He didn't like that she'd told Lovegood without telling him about it afterward, and without the Vow like they'd agreed to. He didn't like finding things out secondhand. "Are you ready to go?"
She eyed him and through her magic, he felt a hint of trepidation. She didn't seem to want to be by herself with him anymore, but she nodded anyway. Then, she looked at the Weaselbee.
"I'll see you at dinner, Ronald?"
"Sure," he said, and then he made a move as if to clap Draco on the shoulder.
"Touch me, and you lose all of your hair."
"Right." He snatched his hand back and moved it instead to wave at Hermione. "I'm off to class. I'll see you both later."
Hermione turned to address Draco, but he held up a hand.
"Not here. Let's go to the common room," he said flatly.
The two of them made their way back to the dorms, Draco barely containing his anger as they walked. He didn't know why he'd thought he could trust Hermione not to say anything, but then, he hadn't truly known her for very long in the grand scheme of his life. And being who he was, he wasn't a very trusting person. He didn't tell anyone and everyone things about himself, especially not the type of secret he was hiding. She knew how he felt about other people knowing - he'd lobbed a book at her head in anger to prove it.
Well, the voice in his head had made him do that. But it had happened with his hands nonetheless.
Draco waited until they were safely locked inside of his dorm room to fix Hermione with a withering glare. Instead of her cowering before him, she drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin higher. The air was tense between them.
"Before you say anything, I didn't do it intentionally. It just slipped out. Since you agreed to them knowing, the only thing I did wrong was to not performing the Unbreakable Vow beforehand," she said.
"I don't like people that I don't trust knowing things about me," he growled out, shoving his wand out of sight. "You should know that by now."
"I don't understand why you're being so difficult," she said angrily. "We agreed to tell them. I couldn't control what Luna did with the information, and as you can see, it went well enough."
"The fact that you're admitting that you couldn't control what she does is proof that I was right about needing Vows. That there's a level of not knowing attached to her knowing. Which means she can't be trusted."
She put her hands on her hips, her robes swaying with the movement. "I trust her, and I trust Ron, for that matter. He didn't react poorly, so I think everything is fine. Draco -"
"Do you trust Potter?" His words stopped her as she reached for him. She pulled her hands back to her chest, clasping them.
"Typically, I would," she said, and her could feel her panic in her magic. "And I know he's angry, but he can be convinced -"
"You heard him yourself! He said he hates me. What does he have to gain from keeping the information he knows quiet?"
"Please just try to understand," she said softly, beseeching him with her eyes. He could feel her magic beginning to sink downward again. "I was dealing with a lot on my own, and I needed to tell her. I just hadn't gotten the chance to tell you that I told her, and I didn't think there would be an issue, seeing as we agreed on it. It was too much to handle. I needed -"
"Me! You could have come to me!" he barked sharply, causing her to flinch and take a step backward. He hadn't meant to do it, hadn't meant to snap at her again, but his temper was too hot. The barrier wasn't holding very well, and the creature in his head didn't seem to be bothered enough to strengthen it. He could feel his magic roiling and he couldn't tell if he was feeling betrayed, offended, or just angry. He wished the creature was a little more inclined to help him out.
She began to blink rapidly and in her magic, he could feel that she was wounded. His fingers itched to reach for her on instinct.
"I'm sorry," she whispered tremulously, and then she lowered her head. "I didn't . . . I just . . . We were having a row. We were having a row, and I just needed to tell someone. She's my best friend. I just needed support."
He felt his anger soften a bit. "I thought you said it wasn't a row."
She gasped and looked up with wide eyes. "I did. I mean . . . I just . . ."
Draco sighed heavily and cupped his hand around the back of her head, pulling her into the circle of his arms. He felt her leaning into him, her hands crushed between their bodies, and he held her again. He buried his face into the side of her neck, breathing deeply, working hard to keep his emotions and magic under lock and key.
"I should have been there for you," he murmured, and he felt her shivering when his breath hit her skin. "I'm the reason why you were at the Manor, and why you were photographed with us. I'm the reason why Greyback used the bond to make me bring you there, to do all those things. I should have protected you better."
"That implies you actually want to protect me."
His magic lashed out and he pushed her to hold her at arm's-length. He fixed her with a serious, ferocious glare, and he saw her cheeks stain red.
"Of course I want to keep you safe," he said harshly. "It's all I've wanted all year, I think, ever since you spoke for my father. Granger, you have to care about someone to get angry at them."
Her eyes searched his almost too deeply, and then her hand was flat on his chest. "You've got to care about someone to want to please them, too."
He felt his heartrate picking up. His throat felt dry. "I thought it was just part of the bond?"
She was blushing and looking at her hand on his blazer, not at him. "I think I've wanted to see you happy for a long time, Draco. I just mistook it for general compassion. The bond is just enhancing and localizing it."
"Localizing it?"
She was still flushed, but she looked up at him now, nodding slowly. "To my heart."
Draco almost swooped in to kiss her, but she started speaking again before he could do so.
"I went to the Revel because I was scared of what would happen to you if I didn't. It's not your fault that I was there at the Manor - I'm the one who insisted on coming to make sure you had blood. It's not your fault what happened. I was terrified that Greyback would hurt you if I didn't go, and at the time, I couldn't think of anything worse."
"At the time?" His hands traveled up the outside of her upper arms, fingertips skimming the surface of her skin. He pulled her closer. He was going to allow her one four more seconds to talk before he swallowed her words and devoured her.
"At the time, yes," she said, her voice becoming breathless and her head tilting back further as she neared him. "Now I can't think of anything worse than you not being happy."
"Then it will please you to know that I'm happy as fuck," he said with a breathy laugh before he covered her mouth with his own and did exactly what he planned to do. He consumed her the same way he did the oxygen on the Earth, and he made the decision to push her towards the dresser because it was closer. He lifted her up and placed her atop it, her arms throwing themselves around his neck and trapping him tightly against her.
Their kiss was frenzied yet layered with passion, and it was all Draco could do not to tear off her clothes and sink into the depths of her right there. The barrier on his lust was gone, kicked aside like an inconsequential slat of wood, and all he could think about right now was tasting her and touching her and having her. One of his hands gripped her waist, the other one sliding up the arch of her back. He could feel her own desire increasing by the second, her gasps and wanton sighs growing more desperate.
"Draco," she whimpered when his lips broke from hers for air momentarily. "Draco, it's still -"
"Too hot?" His eyebrows raised up, but his smirk seemed to mean nothing to her. She nodded frantically, kissing along the length of his jaw and causing him to have shudders of his own wracking his body. His hands tightened on her waist and then snapped down to her hips. The dresser was at the perfect height for him to grind -
"Ah, please!" Hermione cried out, rolling her hips against his over and over. Her arms tightened even further around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head. It was like whatever had happened between them, the argument, the stuff that had gone on during class . . . None of it meant anything. Her scent was filling the room, destroying his ability to think clearly.
"I'm gonna take care of you," he whispered before his tongue tasted the skin of her neck.
Draco took his hands off of her hips and, without warning or preamble, reached between her legs and tore her skirt apart. She hugged him even tighter, their cheeks pressing together tightly as he shoved aside her knickers and slid his fingers inside of her body. He began to pump them in and out, feeling his mind reeling at how wet she was, how tight her channel was going to feel around his cock when he finally claimed her.
Stop being so gentle, the voice inside his head teased. You can do a little better than that, can't you?
Draco needed no permission for anything in his entire life. He was Draco Malfoy, this wasn't Sixth or Seventh Year, and he didn't have to bend to the whims of a crazed serpent. He stood up straighter, placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder, and slammed her back against the mirror. He barely caught sight of the dark, almost wicked gleam in his own eye before he dropped down to his knees in front of the dresser. She panicked for a moment and tried to close her legs, but Draco was having none of it. He put his hands on her inner thighs and forced them open.
"Don't even think about moving, Granger," he growled, glaring up into her flushed, panting face from where he knelt.
"Please, Draco," she said, her voice shaking. "We've never - I don't -"
"Are you going to be good for me?"
She stared at him, her mouth closing quickly. She nodded, her hands coming up to cover her face. Draco wasted no more time. He pulled her knickers aside and relished in the choked sob she gave when he tasted her, his tongue delving deep. He moaned at the feeling of her heat against him, at the flavor of her arousal in his mouth, the trembling in her thighs as his tongue circled her clit.
The moment he felt her hips starting to move forward against his lips, he knew he had her. He maintained his hold on her even as her hands came to grip his hair, even as she pulled it hard enough to hurt. Her moans were as pleasant to him as a symphony as he played her body like a violin, using the flat of his tongue when he felt her entire body begin to vibrate.
Not good enough.
Draco, feeling challenged, stood back up. She let out a gasp at the loss of contact, her pupils blown wide as she looked at Draco in a near-delirium. He didn't even need to study her magic to know she was completely out of it. He wrapped one hand around her throat and pressed her against the mirror, his eyes holding her own as he slammed two fingers back inside of her. Her hands immediately went to his wrist, her eyes rolling up into her head as he worked her closer and closer towards her orgasm.
You could kill her this way, Draco. She'd look so beautiful, dying while she cums.
The thoughts disturbed him so much that his hand stuttered, and Hermione's eyes flew open with a look of pure distress in them.
"Please, please don't stop," she moaned, her hips rocking against his hand. "Please, sir."
Draco thought he was going to lose his mind. He pulled his hand out of her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She grabbed the sides of his face and assaulted his lips with her own as he set her easily on her feet.
"Get on the floor," he commanded, furiously unbuttoning his blazer as his eyes took in her disheveled sight. "But take off your skirt first."
She did so quickly, throwing herself at him and kissing him again. He indulged in the kiss as he tore the blazer off of his body and threw it across the room. He sank to the floor, pulling her down with him, and then he shoved her flat on her back.
"Spread those legs, Granger," he said in an almost sinister voice. She stared at him with an almost wild terror, but did as he asked. She tried to sit up on her elbows, but he loomed over her, a hand on her sternum pressing her down firmly.
"D-Draco -" she started to stammer, but his other hand playing at her core silence her quickly.
"I'm going to fuck you with my mouth, little witch," he murmured with a smirk. "And then you're gonna cum for me."
Before she could react, he allowed his claws to lengthen and he sheared her knickers into pieces. She let out a scream of surprise, but in her magic, Draco could detect that she was thrumming with desire and fervor. He sunk down onto his stomach and pulled her cunt wide, his tongue doing things to her that had her moaning so loudly that he was glad they were skiving off class.
Draco knew they were going awfully fast, that they'd been through quite a series of Hellish events to get to this point, the wanted her so fucking badly. She tasted so good, like she was made especially for him, and he would lock the two of them in this room for the rest of the school year if it meant he could annihilate her cunt like this forever.
His thoughts were out of control and he was so Merlin-damned hard that it ached.
She began to grind her hips against his tongue, letting out a series of moans that bordered on wails as she did so. Draco felt her hands yanking on his hair again, her hips rocking, pressing her clitoris more firmly against his tongue, and then she was begging him exactly the way he wanted her to.
"Oh, Gods . . . Oh, Draco, please . . . Please, please . . ."
And then she was cumming and his heart was bursting and his scalp really hurt. He sat up and, using his fingers, helped her ride out her violently-trembling climax. His gaze washed over her face, that gorgeous face, then he leaned down to kiss her swollen lips. She kissed him back passionately, still whimpering, and then he felt her thighs squeezing down around his hand. He stopped touching her and pulled back a little so he could look into her eyes.
"Still hot?" He breathed, grinning wolfishly.
She shook her head. "But that was . . . It felt different. Did something change?"
Draco schooled his facial expression, not wanting her to know about the disturbing, reprehensible thoughts the creature had spoken into his mind. "Nothing changed. Did something change for you?"
"Nothing from earlier." She sat up, and so did he. "Honestly, it's like I'm in heat. It's a wonder you don't feel the same."
Oh, our little witch has no idea.
And slowly, Draco felt the barrier over his magical core sliding back into place.
Draco wanted to drown out the voice. He grabbed her chin in his hand and pulled it up so he could kiss her. He was still hard and wanting, but he felt so awful about the thoughts that he'd had that he was forcing himself to ignore it.
"What about you?" she asked, her eyes darting down to his trousers.
He shook his head. He was terrified he was going to hurt her. He'd already hurt her the night he'd almost drained her.
"Just you right now. You were in pain. Do you feel better?"
"Yes, but are you sure? Do you need blood?"
Draco opened his mouth to reply and then frowned. Strangely, he hadn't felt the need for blood all day. Could the creature's barrier have been that powerful? Was it even possible for it to be so powerful that it made him not feel the need for sustenance? Inside his mouth, he could still feel his fangs. Did the creature just have the ability to erase emotion and mental symptoms? Or was it something else?
What was inside of him?
"Let's go to the Library," she said, using her wand to repair her clothing. "I can tell something is wrong."
"How?" he asked incredulously as he stood up with her.
"Because I'm Hermione Granger."