Note: I forgot Draco didn't have a wand, and he had one in the last chapter, so what I'll do is go back and change it to his claws at a later date.
This story is REALLY hard to write because I wrote it too in-depth and it drains me. Sometimes I look at the screen and just cry because it's really overwhelming. I know you guys want fast updates but this story just has so much going on and again, it's extremely overwhelming.
Next update will still be Saturday. This chapter was necessary to post as-is, even short.
Trigger warning: Non-con & Dub-con. GRAPHIC. If this triggers you, AVOID, but there are three HUGE revelations in this chapter.
You'll see.
Chapter 33 - Deius
Strangers - City and Colour & From All Sides - Lights
Draco POV
The last time Draco was truly terrified was during the Revel.
It was perhaps the combination of not knowing if he could fool Greyback, and being unsure of how well he could protect Hermione. He'd always been the cowardly type but then, to have someone else looking to him for complete and total protection, it had put this inhuman amount of pressure upon him to not only be in-character for Greyback's benefit, but to keep a tight hold of who he was as a person for Hermione's. The juxtaposition of knowing that at any moment, they could be discovered with one small mistake, had left him in a constant state of terror.
Draco felt similarly now, as he walked beside Hermione to the Library for the remaining forty-five or so minutes of the skived off period. The voice inside his head . . . He didn't want her to know about it anymore, didn't want her to know the horrible things it kept saying about her. But he couldn't just let it go. If she was somehow able to figure something out through research, or if Blaise and he could find out something helpful from Haggerty Prim, then they needed to hash out all possible solutions.
If nothing panned out, Draco knew what course of action he would take. He would do whatever he could to protect Hermione, especially if the biggest danger to her was himself.
"I'm going to grab some books on Veela bonding," she whispered as they entered the Library. It was fuller than usual with students who likely had free periods, and some of them looked up to stare as they walked past. "You go find us an alcove."
Draco stared back at some of the oglers, narrowing his eyes until they hurried to look away. He knew dinner was going to be a trip, especially with their little display in Advanced Potions. Merlin, he still couldn't believe all of that had happened. They'd acted like Fourth Years, and he hadn't even cared.
He worried, though: was it the bond from him biting Hermione that caused him to act so out of control, or was it the creature?
Draco located an alcove and stood at the opening so Hermione could easily find him. When he saw her walking towards him with a couple of books in her arms, he couldn't help but smirk. She looked exactly as he always remembered her looking when they were younger.
"Don't even think about calling me a swot," she said haughtily as she brushed past him. She set the books down on the table and withdrew her wand.
"I can call you whatever I'd like," he said, watching her setting up wards to allow them privacy. "You're mine."
She gave him a prim look, but she was trying to hide a smile. "I found two books on Veelas that might have what we're looking for. I skimmed one and saw that it had an entire chapter that focuses on the bonding ritual. I'm not sure if it will have information on what happens when a person is bitten without completing the - the full ceremony."
Draco was once again reminded of the fact that she thought he detested her blood, and he tried to think of a way he could get her to have the unshakeable belief that he wanted her. He just didn't know how she would take hearing that he did indeed want her, but that he was choosing not to mate with her to end his life and spare her own.
Hermione transfigured him a chair, and then she sat down on her own. Draco took his place beside her and then, much to her apparent surprise, he pulled her chair closer to him. She let out a small gasp when he pressed a kiss to her temple.
"If we can't find what we need, we can look for more information when we get to Denmark," he said, ducking his head down to catch her gaze.
She nodded, her eyes wide and bouncing down to his lips. "You . . . You really want me to come to Denmark?"
"Of course I do," he breathed, and then he caught her lips with his own. He held her chin with his fingers while he deepened the kiss with a firm press of his mouth, and then when he pulled back, his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of her pulse racing. He wondered again why he didn't feel the need for blood, but pushed that aside as he tried to focus on his witch.
"Then I'm coming to Denmark officially." She beamed up at him, and then she turned to the books. "Here, you take this one, and I'll take this one, and we'll see what we can discover."
Draco nodded and began to read, his eyes scanning the passages as quickly as he could, trying to locate anything useful. Hermione had taken the book with the bonding chapter, so his book was a little less straightforward. He had to hunt for random snippets, pieces of information that could possibly be useful. The silence between them was comfortable, which Draco was grateful for, because he didn't think he could take any discomfort when they were already having issues. Right now, his barrier was intact and he didn't feel any overwhelming emotions, but he knew the creature or demon - or whatever it was - was in complete control of him. If it wanted to remove the barrier, it could.
After a little bit of time, Draco began to notice that something was wrong.
He could smell her. Her scent. It was pervading his nostrils, making it impossible for him to focus on his reading. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, but she just kept reading. Did she not realize what was happening?
"Granger, are you . . . ?"
"Hm?" She turned a page.
"Are you all right?"
"Me? Oh, I'm fine." She gave him a quick smile and went back to reading.
He stared at her for a moment longer. Her scent was overwhelming. He looked inside, to his magical core. The barrier was still there, so it couldn't just be a reveal of what was already there. Had she just not noticed it yet? He wondered; how much time was there between instances? And how long could they go without . . . Taking care of it? He wasn't keen on needing to leave all of his classes every period to find her, pull her out of her own class, and molest her in the corridors.
"So this may be something that we won't be able to read about," she said suddenly, closing her book. "I think we're going to have to figure it out on our own. What my theory is . . ."
A sudden wave of her scent brushed his nose and he flinched. She took a deep, shaky breath, and he saw her tug at her collar.
"What my theory is," she continued, "is that we're connected in a similar way to the way we would be if we were mated. We . . ." She stopped, clearing her throat, and then fanned herself with her hand. "It's rather warm in here, don't you think?"
"No, Granger," he said slowly. "It's not warm in here."
She stared at him, and she looked pale and terrified. "Oh, dear. It's happening again, isn't it?"
Draco averted his eyes for a moment. "Your scent is . . . It's a lot."
"Well." She tugged on the end of one curl. "Then . . . Well . . ."
Draco felt her panic, her indecision. He could feel it within her magic. She was worried she was a burden, that it was too much. That it was causing problems. And she was scared. She was scared of what was happening to her.
"Granger, calm down," he said, and he moved his hand to the back of her hair. He combed his fingers upward through the bottom of it, and he watched the way her eyelids fluttered. "I'll take care of it. Finish telling me your theory."
She took a deep breath again and nodded. "Yes. All right. Well, I think we're - that we're connected. If you die, then I die, and vice-versa. I think that I'm - that I'm experiencing a magical side effect of the bite that's similar to when an animal goes into - into heat. Sort-of like the Veela's nature trying to ensure that you mate, to keep you alive."
"Heat?"
"I-I think so," she said, stammering. "It can't be a scientific reaction in the body, because this is magic. And if it ends in death, then my mind is telling me it's a literal heat. My magical core is burning up. The only thing I can't figure out is why yours isn't. D'you feel anything?"
He couldn't tell her about the voice, creature, or barrier. But he knew that when the barrier wasn't there, he hadn't felt anything different than what he'd gotten used to feeling as a supernatural creature. So he chose to shake his head no.
She sighed heavily and lowered her eyes. "Then I could be wrong, but . . . I think the bond is burning away my magical core faster than yours and if we don't mate, it will burn it away entirely and kill me."
The words settled into Draco's mind, and he realized then that he truly, deeply despised himself. In all of his time that he'd spent panicking and worrying about whether or not she knew he wasn't using her, he'd sacrificed her for nothing. She was going to die if he didn't mate with her, and her life would be destroyed if he did.
He felt emotions rushing up, filling him with anxiety, and he struggled to remain calm.
"What the fuck." He said it as an anguished statement, not a question. "I fucking hate myself."
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath and whirled to face him. He felt her magic swirling, vibrating with panic, and her hands shot out to clutch tightly to his own. He couldn't look at her. He just hung his head and glared at the floor beneath his feet.
"It's all right -"
He ripped his hand away from hers and stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. He began to pace, trying to keep his anxiety from tearing him apart from within.
"How do you know the potential mate dies first?"
"It's only a theory, Draco," she said softly, and he felt fear coming from her magical core. Her scent was getting stronger, and her neck was beginning to flush. "I'm the only one in this metaphorical heat. And it's like with cats: the tomcat mates with multiple females. The females go into heat, not the males. That almost makes me expendable."
"You're not expendable!" He spat the words out, and he felt a spike rising in her fear levels. He fought back tears of sheer terror and desperation. "You're not expendable. Just let me think. I need to think."
Hermione lowered her head. He felt undeniable sadness coming from her. "Draco . . . I know you don't want to, but . . ." She blinked rapidly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "If we just . . . M-Mate, then -"
"No!" he yelled, causing her to jump and her fear to increase exponentially. "No, I'm not . . . Just let me think."
He didn't know what there was to think about. There were no solutions other than one. He could feel his panic levels rising. He scrubbed his face with his hands. How much time did they have? Maybe if they could just push it, just for a week, he could talk to his mother. Narcissa might know what to do. She had to know.
"We still have time," Hermione said, and it was very clear that she was holding back tears. "My clock only just began ticking."
Draco closed his eyes and nodded. "Okay. All right. Yeah, that . . . Yeah. We can push it, try to deal with it day by day until we get to my mother. She might know something."
"She may. The Veela genes are hereditary, and if she doesn't know something, maybe your father does. You're living proof that male Veelas exist, so there is a possibility."
He heard her getting up, and he whirled to face her. Tears were streaming down her face. His heart wrenched in his chest and he took a step toward her. She drew back against the table, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry I was bad. I'm just going to go put these books back."
She rushed away before Draco could reach for her, and he pulled his hand back to run it through his hair. He could hear her soft sobs, could feel her magic breaking in two as though he were leaving her, or she'd lost something precious. He hated himself even more. He'd hurt her, and he was destined to hurt her to keep her alive.
The voice stirred and spoke quietly. And yet, you let your emotions control you as though she belongs to someone else. Does she not belong to you? Is she not yours?
Of course she was his.
Then why do you let magic control you? Take what you want.
Draco couldn't do that. He couldn't take what he wanted from her without hurting her. Without turning her into a slave to the darkness that tainted the Malfoy name.
Excuses. She belongs to you. Take her.
But -
If you do not take her, she will die. And if she dies, you die. If you die, then I die.
Draco closed his eyes, feeling his entire body beginning to tremble. Something was happening. Something was trying to - trying to take over. He staggered to the side, a blinding pain erupting across the front of his mind, and then he was screaming. If it weren't for the wards, he was certain the entire castle would hear him. He sank to his knees, hands clutching his head, and felt his eyes burning as though they were on fire.
Something shoved him backward inside of his mind, pinning him down and holding him there. It was strong, too strong. Draco couldn't fight it.
If you do not take her, then I will.
And then Draco was no longer Draco.
Sit back, relax, and thank me later.
Deius stepped out of the alcove and sniffed her out. She was walking between two stacks, near the Supernatural Creatures section, and there was no one nearby. Using his enhanced speed, Deius flashed forward until he was standing right in front of her. She jumped and opened her mouth to scream, but he slammed his hand over her mouth and pressed her up against the bookshelf. Her scent was overbearing, and he was tired of ignoring it. Tired of letting the angst of some glorified teenager get in the way of him ensuring that his life was maintained.
Her eyes were wide and wild and he could feel her sheer terror pounding against his magical core. Good. Deius didn't have the patience to deal with human pleasure. He glanced around, pinning her to the shelf, and he cocked his head to listen. He could hear everything with his increased hearing abilities, and when he was certain that no one was getting up and walking about, he turned to glare down at the trembling witch. He slowly lifted his hand from her mouth.
"Cast the wards."
She whimpered and tried to say something, but he cut her off with a threatening finger in her face.
"Cast . . . The wards."
Her hand shook as she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. He saw a flash of indecision in her eyes. He didn't want to take any chances. He pressed one claw against the hollow of her throat in warning.
Defeat filled her magic through the bond and she did as he asked. When the wards were done, he knocked the wand out of her hand and kicked it away. She looked at him, confused, and then he molded his body to hers. Deius' eyes darted down to her neck. It was bright red with the flush of her heated body. Her heart was beating furiously fast.
Draco was fighting him. He could feel it. And he was putting up a good effort, practically tearing at the claws that were digging into his consciousness. But Deius wasn't going to let him win. He redoubled his own powers, shoving the self-deprecating boy into a dark pit and wrapping magic around it until he couldn't move. By the time he was refocused on the girl, she was relaxed and watching him calmly.
"Who are you?" she whispered, her eyes narrowing even as tears continued to slip silently down from them.
Deius smirked. So she really was the Brightest Witch of Her Age. He'd known she was a problem from the moment she got it in her head that he was inside of the Malfoy boy. He almost didn't want to hurt her, but alas, if Deius was going to have any chance of getting home, he was going to need the boy's body a bit longer. And as it was, he'd been withering for much too long. If it weren't for Deius' magic keeping him alive, he'd have died weeks ago. The stupid git hadn't realized that he presented as a Veela clear back in February of his Seventh Year.
"My name is of no consequence," he said, and he could tell it was alarming her to see Deius' crimson eyes in Draco's body, speaking with Draco's tongue.
"You mean it's your greatest weakness," she said. "I know that much about your kind."
So the witch was smart and cunning. No wonder the boy fancied her. No matter. He didn't need to banter with her to get what he needed out of her.
"You're as intelligent as I've heard, Hermione Granger, but that isn't going to help you right now." His hands moved to her hips, holding them so tight that if it weren't for her clothing, he'd break the skin. Also good. He did so love the taste of blood. A definite perk of transferring himself into a Veela's body.
"What do you want?" Her voice was flat. If it weren't for the bond, Deius wouldn't have been able to tell that she was scared out of her mind of him.
He smiled, the wicked grin spreading across his face with aching slowness.
"I'm here to help, little witch."
She raised her chin with a resolute strength that burned out through her eyes - a strength that Deius had never seen her have with Draco.
"Don't call me that," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You're not him. I don't belong to you."
Deius's hand slammed upward, wrapping around her throat and dragging her up onto the tips of her toes. "I'm not him. But you do belong to me. Shall I fuck you the way he would?"
He saw her eyes flash with horror, felt her terror bleeding out through her magic, wrapping tightly around the tethers of their bond, and then he smirked.
Faintly, in the back of his mind, he felt Draco's consciousness fluttering. It was his blasted wolf. It knew something was about to happen to his soon-to-be mate. But there was no time to deal with that. Her scent intensified and he could tell - whatever it was that she was calling her heat had hit her. She wasn't going to be able to fight much longer.
"Don't do this," she whispered. "Don't make him watch."
Deius smirked again. "Very well."
The witch cried out when he gripped her shoulders and spun her around. He slammed her up against the bookshelf, his hands moving to position her. She let out a hoarse sob as he kicked her legs apart, pulled her hips back slightly, and then he pinned her head down on one of the shelves with his left hand on the back of her neck.
He felt her panic spreading outward, but he ignored it. His right hand shoved its way up her skirt. She was soaked, as he'd expected due to her heat, and it was easy enough to slip his fingers inside of her body. He breathed a malicious laugh when she immediately cried out a strangled moan.
He supposed he could bother with human pleasure for a moment. There was no need to destroy the boy's entire life. After all, Deius was here to help.
He pulled his fingers out of her channel and spread the wetness up to her clit, rubbing it in gentle circles until she was whimpering and squirming between the shelves and his body. He felt sweat beading on the nape of her neck as he touched her, using her slick to work her heated core as fast as possible.
"Please," she whined, her thighs shaking violently. "Please stop."
"Why, little witch?" He taunted in her ear, pressing down on her neck harder. "Afraid to cum for me?"
She said nothing. Her eyelids fluttered and rolled up into her head as she promptly came, a jolt whipping through her body that mingled with the despair and remorse in her magic. She stiffened and moaned in the depths of her chest, a high-pitched keening noise stirring something depraved within Deius that he hadn't felt in years.
He snapped.
The witch screamed when he extended his claws and sliced the back of her skirt and knickers into pieces, leaving her read end bare. She began to fight, trying to turn around, hands and legs flailing as he yanked her head backwards against his chest with his fingers tangled in her hair. She was crying now, and there wasn't a trace of strength left within her eyes as she beseeched him with her gaze.
"Don't worry," Deius purred, his nose nuzzling the column of her throat. He kept a tight hold of her hair as his hand unbuckled his belt and lowered the zip on his trousers. "You will be grateful for this. He never would have mated with you otherwise."
"You're wrong. He was just -"
"He would rather have died than mate with you." Deius stroked his length. It was hard and pulsing with dark need. "He would have chosen death. So I had to take the reins. When this is over . . . ?"
He positioned himself at her entrance, ignoring the tears that spilled out of her honey-brown eyes. Ignoring the panic he could feel starting to come from Draco's consciousness. Ignoring the pitiful way even her magical core was pleading with him.
"You'll thank me."
He sheathed himself inside of her, the slick of her arousal guiding him inside with ease. He didn't wait for her to adjust, pulling her hair hard as he felt her walls squeezing around him. He thrust inside of her with force and zeal, seeking his own pleasure as he pushed her magic away from him. Her skin was scorching hot, and he had to push her head forward to keep it from touching him. She was sobbing inconsolably now, delirious with heat and what he could only assume, due to her magic, was pain.
"Please," she wailed. "Please, please stop! Draco, please help me!"
He moved backward a few steps and shoved her further forward, until she was bent at the hips and he was driving into her small body with force. He could feel the head of his cock smashing against her cervix with each thrust, earning himself a whine of agony from her open lips. When he glanced down at her face, which was turned to the left, he saw that she looked stricken with terror.
"Oh, precious, you know Draco isn't here," he growled, one hand bruising her hip and the other grasping the back of her short curls as a makeshift anchor. He was irritated. Her desperate plea of his name was calling to the boy's wolf and his Veela. Draco was completely awake now, and he was tearing at the magical barrier Deius had erected. His hips stuttered as he began to divert his focus to the boy.
"Please, please," she sobbed, her hands clawing and pulling at his fingers in her hair. "It hurts. Please, it hurts."
Deius was barely listening. His thrusts were slow and deep. He was trying to keep Draco back. The boy was a lot stronger when he was angry. Deius was going to run out of magic if he didn't hurry up and finish, and then all three of them would be dead.
He had two choices: Waste the rest of his magic trying to fight off Draco and end up dooming them all to an early death, or fuck the girl until he was close and, at the last moment, drag Draco back into control. The boy was human. He wouldn't be able to stop. If there was one thing Deius knew well, it was the folly and sins of humanity. Lust had been his specialty. He knew the boy would fail at protecting the girl from himself.
Deius chose the latter.
Abandoning his defenses to Draco's wrath, he refocused on the girl's violently shivering body. He let go of her hair and held both of her hips, driving into her cunt as fast as he could, focusing on the feeling of it and the sounds of her pleas. She was unable to do anything other than sob, begging and pleading for the boy, and Deius knew exactly what she was doing.
This was the little bitch's fault. She was saying his name on purpose. How had she known his wolf would respond? His Veela? She was too intelligent for her own good.
No fucking matter. Deius would succeed.
He pressed his hand flat on her lower back. He could feel Draco breaking free.
"If you don't make me cum, you fucking slag, I'll slit your throat right before he gains back control," Deius snarled, his other hand moving around to touch her clit. "If you don't want him to watch that, then you'll do what the fuck I say."
Still crying, she nodded. Deius paused for a moment to focus on applying a bit of extra magic to the barrier around the boy's consciousness. While he did that, the witch slowly placed her hands on the shelf and began to drive her hips back to meet his.
"P-Please hurry," she whispered, tears dripping off of her jaw. "P-Plea - ah."
Her words cut off as he began to thrust forward, his fingers swiping at her pearl and causing her to spread her legs wider. Her tears fell like a raging river, but she was gasping now as he used her body. Now that she was participating actively, the host's body was responding, and Deius could feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine. Good, very good.
Draco was almost free, and the tornado of anguish, rage, and self-hatred was starting to wear at Deius's own consciousness. He ignored it. He focused on the tightness of the witch's body, the slickness, the tiny moans that she was trying to stifle. His head fell back, mouth opening as he felt the girl's walls starting to flutter.
"Cum, witch," he commanded, his voice ragged. "Cum now."
She let out another sob, her magical core exploding with shame as her body convulsed with her climax. Her core tightened like a vice around him, her knuckles going white as she held the edge of the shelf as tightly as she could, and the moan that she gave was full of turmoil.
In the next second, the barrier was torn asunder by the jaws of the wolf, and Draco was free.
A shame Deius wouldn't get to feel the ecstasy of his release.
Deius ripped open the remainder of the magic prison that he'd created for his most gracious host. He shoved Draco back into the forefront of his own mind. Once he was there, Deius built a barrier around himself, even though he knew the boy would have no way to access him, and settled in to rest and recuperate.
Draco wanted to die. He could barely stand to be in his own skin, inside of her body, her tiny little body. Her broken body. The one that he'd been trying to protect, to keep safe. He wanted to cut himself until he bled out all over the floor. Hermione was everything to him, and he'd destroyed her.
"D-Draco?" She sounded so despondent, frightened, and exhausted. Draco just wanted to comfort her, but he hadn't the right. "Is it y-you?"
Draco dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs. "I fought so fucking hard. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Hermione."
"Keep going," she implored, her voice wavering with emotion. Her hand reached back, wrapping around one of his own and keeping it firmly attached to her hip. "Please."
"I can't." His tears fell hot and fast to splash on her back. She flinched, the skin of her back shifting, and then she began to move her hips. Draco hated how good it felt, how deeply it made his heart hurt. She was so strong. So fucking strong.
"We don't k-know what c-could happen if you don't. Please, D-Draco. Please."
"I can't. I fucking can't."
"I want it to be you. Please. I just want it to be you." She began to cry fresh tears as she moved.
Draco tried to stop. He really tried. He put everything he had into trying to stop, even though she was pleading with him to continue, but he wasn't as strong as her. He never had been. No one was stronger than her. His magic was swirling up, blasting outward and wrapping around the both of them, forcing the ceremony to complete.
"Oh, fuck," he said in anguish as he tightened his hold on her and moved inside of her with all of the emotions urging him to stop. He tried to make it better for her, to show her that even though he didn't deserve to breathe her air, that he was going to take care of her. His right hand remained on her hip, as gentle as possible, and his other hand stroked her sides and back in soothing motions.
"It's all right," he said softly, even as his tears continued to fall. "I'm so sorry. It's all right."
Hermione burst out crying with a fresh wave of emotion, and he felt her emotions mingling and spilling into his magical core. He couldn't even tell them apart, and he didn't try. He just gathered them all up and held them tightly, all while he tried to show her how sorry he was with his slow, steady thrusts.
Soon, she was no longer crying. She was no longer whimpering in pain. Her backwards thrusts of her hips weren't quite so firm. Draco's head tipped back and his fingers reached around, slipping under her shirt and caressing her breast gently. The pleasure felt like guilt, and the pain in his heart increased tenfold.
He was almost there.
"Can you cum a-again?" he whispered desperately, his voice cracking on the last word as he was forced to remember the context. He needed her to feel good. He needed to make it better for her. "For me?"
She turned to look at him over her shoulder and she looked so fucking sad that Draco could hardly stand it. She nodded almost shyly, and he could feel her shame intensifying within her magic. "For you."
"Good girl," he whispered brokenly, caressing her jaw. She trembled and closed her eyes. He felt her tears against his hand. "Good girl. I'm here. It's me."
His hand moved to her clit, which was slippery and wet with her arousal, and she keened the moment he touched it. His tear-filled, hazy eyes lifted to her face, where he saw her cheeks flushing and her brows knitted together with the intensity of the situation, and he felt his heart shattering.
He loved her so fucking much.
He loved her, but he deserved to die for this.
"Draco," she moaned, her body beginning to quiver in that telltale way. He slowed the pace of his thrusts again, feeling every ridge inside of her core as he drove inside of her, and savored the way her breathing hitched.
"It's okay," he whispered, his own voice trembling. He clenched his teeth to keep himself from sobbing aloud again. "It's okay. Let go for me, Hermione. I'm right here."
Her eyelids fluttered. She faced the books again. He felt her body tensing up, his fingers gentle against her precious core, and then she arched her back.
"Draco, please," she whined in a strangled voice, her hips grinding against his hand. "Please. You. Just you."
He could feel himself on the edge, and he hated himself all the more for it.
With one last swipe of his fingers against her clit, she came so hard that he could barely breathe. His own release followed immediately after, and then he slid his hand around her throat as lightly as he could, pulling her to stand up on her tip-toes. He bared his fangs and sunk them into the side of her throat, causing her to let out a cry of mingled pain and pleasure. As her blood flowed into his mouth, sealing the magical ceremony and making her his mate, he felt her body seizing down on him once again. He moaned as it pulled every last drop of his seed from within him, and then she went limp.
She was his now, fully and completely, and he didn't deserve her.
Hermione began to cry again. Draco lifted her by the waist, slipping out of her, and staggering backward. She stumbled about, snatching up her wand and using it to repair her clothing. Draco slowly tucked himself away, his depression sinking deep down into his bones as he zipped and buttoned his trousers. He buckled his belt, his eyes lingering on her blotchy, stricken face. She cast a tergeo on them both, and then she stood awkwardly a meter or so away from him.
"I just need . . . I need a . . ." She wept hard enough for her to not be able to speak for a moment. She kept her head down, and Draco felt his tears beginning to fall again. He'd never hurt this much. He'd never been in this much pain.
He'd never loved someone so much.
But he could feel it in her magical core more strongly than before, as though she and he were one and the same person. Like they shared one magical core.
She was broken.
Could she feel how much he loved her?
"I'm sorry," she wailed, and then she turned and dashed off, one hand held to her mouth as she went.
Left behind in the relative safety of the wards, Draco fell back against the bookshelves and sunk down to the floor in grief and shock. He pulled his knees to his chest, put his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.
The last time Draco was truly terrified was during the Revel. The next time was now.
He wept.