"It's bloody freezing." A shiver chased up Hermione's spine, and she tugged her jumper closed, scowling at everyone in their sundresses and linen shirts.
Harry snorted. "It's June, Hermione."
"It doesn't feel like June. How are you not freezing to death?"
Theo and Harry shared a look before regarding her with a nervous stare. "It's beautiful out, and we're in a gazebo in perfect sunshine—s'not hard to stay warm," Theo said plainly. "You, however, look absolutely ridiculous. You ought to burn that hat. Has no one educated on proper party attire and etiquette?"
Jaw falling open, Hermione couldn't help but gape at the smarmy Slytherin. She couldn't remove her hat, nor her scarf, nor her jumper. Rubbing her hands together she turned from her friends to study the party.
It'd been awhile since she'd seen Draco Malfoy, and it wasn't necessarily ideal to do so at his birthday party, but Harry had insisted, stating he didn't want to be the only non-git at the party. When Hermione had suggested maybe he not go, he'd pouted petulantly. Theo and Harry had taken up together earlier this year and that had inevitably meant that the endless rivalry between Harry and Draco had had to end.
This was the thrilling tale of how Hermione was at Malfoy Manor on a lovely June afternoon, freezing her arse off at Draco Malfoy's twenty-first birthday party.
The party itself was a little comical; it felt more like a lady's garden party nestled away in the blooms of the Malfoy estate. The tables were dressed in crisp white linens with golden flatware and candelabras. Giant bouquets of pale blue hydrangeas sat proudly every few inches on the long tables, and off in the distance, two white peacocks strutted about.
She'd yet to actually see the birthday boy himself, but his mother was in attendance, dressed in beautiful lavender robes and an elegant hat. In fact, all the attendees were dressed like a flower except Hermione. It'd been two days ago that this insufferable chill had settled around her. She was sure at first that she'd been catching a cold, but other than the constant freezing temperature, she had no other symptoms whatsoever.
Champagne was offered on a charmed, floating silver tray, and Hermione glowered at it. She needed a bloody cuppa, not ice-cold champagne.
Near the mouth of the gardens, Draco Malfoy appeared, and the party tittered in quiet applause. Craning her neck around the guests, she choked out a laugh to see the guest of honor in a thick wool turtleneck, sporting a pair of gloves and long black trousers. He also had the most unpleasant grimace on his lips as he surveyed the opening.
"Ah, there he is—bloody finally." Grumbling, Theo jerked his chin in Draco's direction and began leading the way.
Harry's voice dropped to a low whisper as he leaned in towards Hermione. "Merlin, the git is dressed as ridiculously as you, Hermione. Wonder if you both caught the same bug."
"I told you." The words slid through her clenched teeth. "I'm not sick! I'm just cold." Rubbing her hands over the tops of her covered arms, she and Harry followed Theo through the party. With each step, she found a warming sensation blossoming over her skin, and for the first time in days she felt comfortable—too comfortable. And then, she felt fucking hot.
Gasping, she ripped her scarf from her neck and the hat from her head as she tucked between two guests. Heat kissed her skin, trapped in the confines of her jumper, and she lost all reasonable thought as she wrenched from her body, leaving her in a (completely inappropriate) t-shirt.
"Happy Birthday, you old fuck," Theo crowed, slapping Malfoy on the shoulder. Hermione could barely think straight, crimson staining the edges of her vision as sweat kissed her hairline. "Look who I brought!"
Hermione forced a wane smile on her face and turned to find Draco Malfoy staring intently back at her, his gray eyes blown dark and wide, damp hair clinging to his forehead. Something churned low in her belly and in combination with the heat, she felt fevered.
"I—" Word failed her as she blinked back at him, her lips parted and useless. "I should go."
"Hermione, wait!" Harry called out, but it fell on deaf ears as she turned on her heel and marched decidedly away from Draco Malfoy, each step chilling her blood until she was shivering and pulling her hat back over her curls once again.
xXx
She'd found a secluded corner of the garden with a fat, angelic cherub sitting on a pedestal—judging her.
What on earth was that? Somehow being near Draco Malfoy had cured her of this blasted cold and, what's more, had turned her unbearably hot. Pouting on a bench, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she didn't notice that anyone had bothered to follow her until a familiar voice sounded.
"Granger?"
As he stepped into the small clearing, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. It wasn't like before, when they'd been closer, but it was enough that she stopped trembling.
"Hello," she said simply, scooting a few inches further away and noting how the chill rose fractionally. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you." He took another step forward, reaching up to pull his hat from his head again. "I suppose you're feeling this, too?"
Sniffing, Hermoine tilted her chin in the air and pulled a face. "To what are you referring?"
"Oh, come off it Granger. You're dressed for a fucking blizzard in June."
"Yeah!" she shouted back, scoffing at him for no apparent reason. "Well so are you, and who even owns a turtleneck?"
A blush blossomed on her cheeks at her lame attempt to insult him and the heat that accompanied him as he took a tentative step forwards.
"My mom told me what was happening, but I'm quite surprised it's you." His eyes tightened as he circled her, careful not to step forward. "Apparently it's more common in the Black family line."
"Stop speaking in riddles, Malfoy." She pulled her scarf free from her neck and glared at him. "If you have something to say, just speak it plainly."
"You're awfully combative considering that you're attending my birthday party—and uninvited, might I add."
A snort ripped through her, and she was about to eviscerate the sod with a verbal jab when he took another step forward and heat flooded her body.
"It's old magic, meant to help you locate your soulmate."
Hermione froze, every inch of her seizing up at the innocuous little word.
"That was my reaction as well when you strolled up sporting that hideous fucking jumper." A disbelieving laugh slipped from his lips, and he took another step closer.
"I don't believe in soulmates," she breathed, shrugging from her perfectly lovely jumper. "I've a cold. I'm sick." The lie was watery and a complete contradiction to what she'd said earlier to Harry.
"I didn't either until I started freezing to death at midnight on my twenty-first birthday, and I seem to only be comfortable when you're in my proximity."
Whinging, Hermione's heart fluttered and clenched, her fingers curling around the seat of the bench as she tried her best to maintain her composure. Soulmates was just the most ridiculous fucking thing she'd ever heard… but she couldn't help but crave more of his relief. Everything inside her longed for him, her very magic inching out to mingle with his.
"How do we fix it?" Her voice cracked. When he took another step forward and even her sex felt too hot, she jumped to her feet and edged around the back of the bench, eyeing him like a dangerous animal. "Stop that! Don't come closer until we figure this out."
Draco scoffed. "There's really nothing to figure out, Granger. We seal the bond or live in misery."
Blinking, Hermione felt all at once like the dunce. "Seal the bond? How very cryptic of you."
"We have to fuck."
The words crashed into her, drawing the air from her lungs as she gaped at him. She could scarcely manage to string words together. "Are you insane?"
"No, and I'm also not thrilled about this turn of events, either. You're not exactly the person I'd like to be soul bound to for the rest of my life, but it's the way things are, I suppose. Perhaps it's my karma for all the awful things I've done."
"What?" Hermione arched a brow, a smile twitching onto her lips. "That for being an utter dick your entire life your penance is to be my loving husband?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes, taking three steps back and shivering. "No, my punishment for all my dastardly deeds is suffering your company."
"You really are a complete and utter arsehole, Draco Malfoy. Harry tried to say that you've changed, but I knew better. I'm leaving." Clutching her hat and scarf in a vice-like grasp, she made to march from the clearing, but he was too fast.
He cut off her path, their chests nearly bumping as they panted from the sudden influx of heat.
The universe ground to a halt when his blackened gaze drifted over her features and landed on her lips. Shaking her head, she tried—and failed—to regain her mind. "This is insane, Malfoy. We hate each other; we can't just..."
His palm lifted to her cheek, now damp from perspiration, and the moment their skin brushed, a fire flared to life inside her. They gasped from the onslaught of sensation, and without further thought or preamble, she crashed into him. Winding her arms around his neck, she dragged him down to her, meeting his lips in a frenzy.
With her eyes closed and a fever coursing through her at his touch, it was quite simple to forget she was kissing Draco Malfoy at all. His hands were everywhere, gliding down the curve of her waist and sneaking up her shirt. Dancing his fingers up the ladder of her ribs, he traced and lined every inch of her he could reach, drawing a moan from inside her as he palmed her breast.
His lips trailed from the side of her mouth to her jaw and down her neck, and she couldn't breathe. Fingers curling in her hair, she couldn't help but pull him closer still, his back bending to accommodate her height as they mashed their bodies together.
Against her hip she could feel the thick ridge of his erection, and she gasped just as his teeth grazed her pulse point.
Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to think of a future being bonded to bloody Malfoy. Surely it couldn't be all that bad if it meant she didn't have to live with the heart of the Artic in her chest, chilling her to the bone.
With a low whine, she extricated herself from his entanglements, stumbling blindly backwards until she'd fallen on her bum. He, too, rushed backward, his back colliding with a tall shrub as he stared, breathless, at her.
"What the fuck are we going to do, Granger?"
She could feel it. Her soul or her magic or her heart—whatever it was—it impossibly wanted him. Of all the insufferable men in the world, she silently admonished herself.
"I'd bond with you—if you wanted." Malfoy gulped, the thick lines of his throat tensing around the words. "I know it's a bloody asinine thing to say, but I don't know what else to do unless you want to live with our magic rioting.
"What's that mean, then? A bond? We're married or some ridiculous shite?"
He smirked, his eyes crinkling. "Or some ridiculous shite. Soulbonds are a bit more than a marriage license from the Ministry of Magic, but once we accept it—that's it. Being separated for more than a day will fucking gut us; I don't even want to think about if one us died."
A whimper rattled in her chest at even the thought of being apart, and she felt her resolve wither and die. "Okay."
Malfoy blinked. Then again. "Okay?"
With a snort, she pushed back up to standing and narrowed her glare. "I said okay, Malfoy. What do you want, a bloody proposal?"
His smirk slowly widened to a grin, and he took a few slow steps towards her. "Fine, then. We'll fuck and seal the bond, and I'll have to learn to get used to you."
Wrinkling her nose, she huffed out an angry breath. "It's me that will have to get used to you. I'm very pleasant, you'll find." When he was again standing in front of her, perspiration clung to her skin, and she sucked in a hard inhale as he reached to curl his hands around her hips.
"Semantics. Should we wait on the bond? Do you want to wear a dress or invite your friends or something?"
Melting into his touch, she brought her palms up to rest on his pecs, deliriously lost in him. "Not particularly. Do you?"
"You'll find I'm not so much of a dress wearer…"
Swatting at him, she couldn't but laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation and slid her hand up to his neck, relishing in the tingle of their magic reveling.
"But, no, let's just get on with it—shall we?"
"What do you—" She didn't have a chance to finish the sentence as she felt a sharp tugging in her belly and was whisked away in a flurry of magic.
When they landed, she was about to reprimand him for Apparating her without her express permission, but she didn't have the chance. His mouth was on hers, his tongue diving between her lips and coaxing a pleasured moan from deep in her belly. She was guided backward until her bum hit the hard edge of a desk… or a dresser… she wan't all that sure.
Liquid heat pooled between her legs, and in the moments that followed, there was a flurry of fabric: shirts ripped over heads and discarded haphazardly, jeans and trousers pushed from their hips. When they were divested of everything but their undergarments, he pressed his body into hers and a gasp tore from their joined mouths.
Every inch of her burned in the most utterly perfect way, and she wanted more. She couldn't stop touching him, stop her hands from searing over his perfectly taut skin and curving over the thick muscle of his arse.
Slipping her hand into the waistband of his shorts, she gripped his cock firmly. He shuddered under her touch, his shoulders hunching and lips trembling as she pumped him in her fist again and again.
Growling, he dropped to his knees, forcefully yanking her knickers down. Irritation bubbled inside her as his intentions were made known.
"I need you inside me… we can do this bit later." She couldn't help but whine as his palms slid around the curve of her calf and parted her legs wider.
Peeking up through his lashes, a lopsided grin curved his lips. "We're about to be bonded, Granger, and I'm not about to have you not get off at least once in our first joining. That being said, I'm going to come in my fucking pants if you keep touching me and moaning like that—so this is necessary."
"Dra—" Her words were cut off as his mouth latched onto her sex. Gasping, she buried her fingers in his fine hair, her head rolling back.
With a flat tongue, he traced her seam, flicking over her clit until she felt like she was going to combust. He paused only to hitch her knee over his shoulder and then buried his face between her thighs; two fingers slid inside her, curling and pumping at an almost lazy pace as his tongue edged her closer to orgasm.
Fire licked her skin, and as a rolling orgasm crashed over her in waves, she cried out, knees buckling as she rode his face. Her vision waned then flared to a bright crimson, and the heat inside her was unbearable.
With a pleasured wail, her body went slightly slack, and she was only vaguely aware as he lifted her in his arms. After a few steps, she was falling back, crashing into the mattress as he climbed over her, covering her body with his own.
Slanting his mouth over hers, he delved his tongue inside, the tang of her own sex heavy as they drank each other in. One hand slid between them, freeing his prick and slotting it at her entrance. The heat of his tip skimmed her folds, and she writhed in anticipation.
"Last chance, Granger… " Draco's voice was tight with restraint, his jaw clenched as he hovered over her.
A smile tugged on her lips, her eyes lidded and starry. "G'on then."
In a single snap of hips, he filled her. A blinding golden light burned behind her eyelids, and she felt the way her magic called for his, swirling and curling and mingling between them.
An expletive slipped from him, and one hand came up to cradle her jaw as he rested his forehead against hers. "Do you feel it too?"
"Y-yes. I feel it."
Their eyes snapped open, and she locked on to his nearly black eyes. "Mine," he growled.
She smirked, her palm resting over his heart. "Mine."
Finally, after what felt like a blissful eternity, he began to move inside her. Slipping her knee higher up onto his hip, he pushed impossibly deeper. The magic in the moment was unbelievable, tangible in a way she couldn't remember experiencing before, and as he sped up, driving into her until she was crying out and arching into his every touch, she forgot everything else.
Time stopped mattering; all she could do was focus on the way he felt inside her and the way their magic danced. The taut columns of his throat tightened.
"Come for me again." Rolling his hips, he rocked against her clit, his hand yanking down the cups of her bra and baring her to the warm air. "Come, Hermione."
The desperation in his voice paired with a few brutal thrusts sent her over the edge, a second orgasm coursing through her as he stilled and spent himself inside her. When their orgasms had waned, their bodies sagging, she could feel the bond between them. The heat and unbearable cold had dissipated but in its place was a tether—an anchor.
Rolling off of her, he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her tightly against him. "Soulmates, huh?"
She groaned, readjusting her body so she could stare at him. "I guess I'm stuck with you."
Fighting a smile, he shrugged lightly. "Guess you are."
xXx
After laying together for as long as they could deem appropriate, they dressed—sans winter clothing—and walked from the Manor in quiet, companionable silence. The reality of what had just transpired between them couldn't be decoded yet. Until an hour ago, she'd barely been tolerant of his existence, and now she knew beyond a reasonable doubt that she would die before letting anything harm him.
Sharing a private smile, they walked into the warm June afternoon and turned the corner towards the gazebo. When they returned, the party was uncomfortably silent; every set of eyes was blown wide and horrified.
"What on earth is everyone looking at?" Hermione hissed, pausing to shift uncomfortably at the entrance.
"No idea."
Through the throngs of people Narcissa appeared, her cheeks bright red and sporting a grimace.
"Hello, love birds," Harry crooned, his lips folding into a flat line. "Have a nice walk?"
Hermoine blushed. "Yes, thank you."
"Brilliant! Always glad to hear that…" Rocking back onto his heels, Harry removed his glasses and began idly cleaning them with his shirttail. "Say, next time why don't you two go ahead and practice a little proper party etiquette and close those windows before you decide to engage in some casual afternoon sex? Might save your guests from having to listen to you rut around like pigs in heat."
With an audible click, Hermione's jaw snapped shut and she buried her face in her hands.
"Well, guess it's safe to say everyone knows about us," Draco offered, a laugh chasing his words as he threw an arm over her shoulder. "Let's cut the cake. I love sweets after sex." His hand drifted down, tapping her lightly on the arse cheek, and she yelped, her cheeks still burning.
As he walked away towards the pudding table, the chill didn't return, but her soul wept, begging to be next to him again. Pulling a face for Harry, she shrugged and followed after him.
xXx
Happy Birthday, Tasha!
You are such a lovely soul, and I adore you and your caramels that make my booty jiggle. I hope this silly Dramione soulmate smut was enjoyable and that you have a beautiful day.
To anyone who stumbles across this piece, stay safe! These are mad times and find solace in fandom! I am easily found on tumblr if you need a drabble or a pretty or anything that might bring a smile to your face! I'm happy to oblige during my quarantine hours!
Mega thanks to my alpha and beta, MCal and Ravenslight for their eyes and talents on this little gift! I appreciate you both so much!
Again, happiest of birthdays to you, T! You're one a kind and I'm so lucky to know you!