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Author's Note:

A majority of this chapter is sexy and therefore had to be cut for FFN guidelines and is posed in its entirety on ArchiveofOurOwn.

I strongly urge you to head to AO3 to read the rest of this chapter if you like your fics dirty and delicious. lol.

You can search my username there: SyrenGrey Or you can search this story: omnia vincit amor

Link: Archiveofourown dot org forwardslash works forwardslash 13094955 forwardslash chapters forwardslash 29958723

FYI: Full version of the chapter is 7,600 words. Omitted version is 4,700.

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XXVII: The Emperor

"Granger."

The sound was faint, accompanied by a gentle sway that made Hermione feel like she was falling through the sky.

"Wake up, Granger. Come on."

"Mm?" she stirred, her eyes barely open a sliver as the light shone in and she winced against the crude brightness that invaded her senses. "Wha-?"

"Your friends want to talk to you."

Draco's silver gaze came into view as he loomed over her, her wary eyes slowly opening to take in the sight of cool beauty as the light lingered around him like a halo, illuminating the silver-blonde hair that was dusted across his bare chest. Her gaze drifted over his naked form. What a pleasant dream this was.

Draco's insistent hand squeezed her shoulder and rocked her out of the dream world.

"My... friends?" she rubbed her eyes and sat up.

As the fog of sleep lifted, carnal memories flooded her mind and filled her head with vivid images of the night before. She bolted upright, her now fully-open eyes taking in the sight of her own nakedness before she reached for the thin sheet of blanket, drawing it up all the way to her chin.

"Potter is in the fireplace," Draco said, unbothered by her sudden modesty as he picked up his pants and leisurely pulled them on.

"Ha-" She couldn't get the word out. Her eyes darted toward the green flames that occupied the fireplace.

Hermione thanked God for the cauldron that continued to hang there - she prayed that it had occluded his vision of the room enough to maintain her privacy.

"Harry!"

"Hermione?" the voice called out from the hearth.

"She'll be with you in a moment," she heard Draco call out, a faint trace of bitterness to his tone.

Hermione scurried to pull her clothes and robe on in a flash before she dashed to the fireplace. She lifted the cauldron off its hook and dropped it with a heavy thud before falling to the floor with an eager and excited grin. The familiar face of Harry Potter shone through once more, and once more she wanted to cry from joy at seeing that he was safe. He looked nearly the same as the last time she'd seen him, slightly tired but still messy in a charming way.

"Harry! Oh, how are you? Tell me everything!"

"I'm good. I see Malfoy's back," Harry responded. His tone was not as acidic as Hermione anticipated, but there was no shred of pleasantness about the way he spoke either.

"Yes, he's back," Hermione said, eyeing the Slytherin boy who lounged on the couch several feet away, his face obscured by her Potions textbook as he calmly read. "Everything is okay here."

"Hermione, I'm not supposed to be Floo'ing you, but I wanted to tell you - I overheard that the Order is coming to Hogwarts soon and we're planning on getting you out of there once the castle's safe."

Hermione saw the Potions textbook drop a bit as Draco's silver gaze peeked at the fireplace.

"How soon?"

"I wouldn't know that, no one tells me any details."

"Probably cause you can't keep a secret," Draco muttered under his breath. Hermione scowled in his direction but quickly turned back to Harry.

"Harry, where is Dumbledore? How is it that the castle is still not safe?"

Harry's gaze dropped, and she watched as his mouth made no move to form a response. She leaned forward, patiently waiting for him to say something before her eyes slowly drifted toward Draco with a disapproving glare.

"Right. You can't tell me," she said, fighting the urge to sigh at Harry's sudden reticence. "Anyway, Harry - have you gotten word about there being any, er, Death Eaters in the Forest?"

"Er, not that I know of," Harry's eyes narrowed with concern as he spoke. "Why?"

"There was one..." she paused, "He was - dead when I found him."

Hermione could see Draco shifting stiffly in her periphery, but she avoided the temptation to glance in his direction.

"I'll see if anyone knows anything about that - I reckon it's best to stay inside when you can," he replied after a moment of contemplation.

"Will do -"

"Tell him about Kreacher," Draco interrupted.

"Er, Harry - Drac- Malfoy says that you shouldn't trust Kreacher."

"Kreacher, why? He was Sirius' House Elf."

"Tell Potter the House Elf has no loyalty to him or the Order," Draco relayed to Hermione from his comfortable spot on the couch. She turned back to the fireplace with pursed lips, suddenly feeling like a glorified messenger.

"Draco says that Kreacher doesn't have any loyalty to you or to th-"

"Is that 'Mione?" she could hear the voice in the background of Harry's fireplace. Hermione's heart fluttered at the familiar sound.

"Yeah, come say hi. Hermione - one sec - Ron wants to say hi," he said with a grin. The vivid green flames fizzled out for a brief moment before the floating head of Ronald Weasley appeared, with his long nose, sprinkle of freckles that dotted his cheeks, and longer-than-usual hair. His lopsided grin upon seeing her made her throat tighten, but she leaned forward and gave a goofy wave to the hearth.

"Ron!" she gasped with excitement.

She hadn't seen him in what felt like - and could realistically have been - months. Harry had assured her that Ron was okay the last time they spoke, but it was entirely different to see him looking at her with pronounced happiness.

"Merlin's beard, we were worried about you!" Ron said, "Are you doing alright?"

"I missed you both! I'm so glad you're okay. I'm doing grea-"

Her muscles involuntarily tightened, startled by the sudden sensation of a warm and gentle weight on her head. She realized, as the fingers scratched against her scalp, that Draco was looming over her. Her eyes widened when she took in his form - commanding, cold, and utterly shirtless, with his fingers possessively caressing her all while staring into the fireplace.

"I'm doing…" she tried to continue her thought, but as she forced her attention back toward the flames she noted that Ron's previously toothy grin was replaced with a severe grimace.

"I, er -"

She looked back toward Draco, hovering with smug indifference.

Say something, for bloody sake.

The silence was painful and Hermione felt like she might die of awkwardness.

"Er - " she started.

"Take care of yourself, Hermione," Ron spat before disappearing from the fireplace. Her stomach sank like a stone in water and she cast a glare of a thousand daggers as Draco withdrew his touch and folded his arms over his chest, the faintest hint of victory visible in his perfectly calm features.

Before she was able to yell bloody murder at him, Harry Potter's face popped back into the fireplace.

It was obvious to Hermione that he, too, was uncomfortable. Likely uncomfortable both with having to tolerate Malfoy as a potential ally - or at the very least, not an enemy - and with the fact that Draco Malfoy was visibly underdressed.

"I wouldn't trust the House Elf, if I were you," Draco spoke, picking up where the conversation had left off as if it was the most natural thing for him to do.

"Well, Kreacher's been gone for about a week now," Harry responded somewhat feebly, speaking mostly to Hermione, "He probably had no reason to stay now that he has no Master."

"Didn't Sirius leave him to you?" Hermione asked. From her periphery, she could see Draco lean forward as he processed the information.

"Wait - the Elf hasn't been seen in over a week?"

"Right, he disappeared around 8 days ago."

"I would get out of there, Potter," Draco said. "Your security may be jeopardized. Either find the Elf immediately or find another place to hide."

It took Hermione a moment to understand what Draco had been implying, and the faint crease of his porcelain forehead was enough to indicate his solemnity on the matter.

"That must be why there was a Death Eater in the Forest," Hermione gasped, "Kreacher knew that I was out here and maybe - maybe he's been compromised."

Harry glanced over his shoulder before they heard Ron's voice respond from behind Harry's head, "I'll let Tonks know."

"Alright then," Harry said, unable to hide the way his lips curled with distaste at having to take advice from a Malfoy. "Anything else?"

"Don't share any vital information via Floo," Draco shrugged. Hermione turned toward him at the words and saw that his cold eyes were already lingering heavily on her.

Harry nodded his understanding and looked at Hermione.

"Stay safe."

Don't go.

She wanted to keep seeing his face. She wanted to know what the Order was up to. She wanted to help fight.

"I will. You too, Harry, please let us know if there's anything we can do."

"Just stay out of Hogwarts - "

And with a bright green flash, Harry disappeared and the orange glow of fire filled the space that he'd occupied.

As soon as Harry disappeared, Hermione's lips grew tight and jaw clenched. She could have been doing her best angry McGonnagall impression when she looked at Draco, irritation swelling inside her. Yet when she saw his face, she saw the same emotion mirrored in his expression.

"What are you mad about?" she snapped.

He rose to his feet and paced a few steps before turning to face her again.

"I don't want to talk about it," he spat.

His feet continued to move restlessly, pacing the length of the cave before they finally led him to the couch, the air around him stewing.

"Ugh, I need a shower to watch the disgust off of me. Granger, if you ever need a safeword to make sure I stop doing what I'm doing, use the word 'Weasley'."

She glared at him and his stupid words.

Her tense muscles struggled to unclasp the simple hook of her robe. With a frustrating huff, she threw the heavy fabric over her head and dropped it to the floor before she collapsed on the bed, laying on her stomach with a pillow curled under her arm.

"How about next time my friends want to talk to me, you put a bloody shirt on."

"Why? So Ronald Weasley doesn't get the wrong idea about us?"

She wanted to scream. She sat up and let out a heavy exhale, stifling her desire to throw a pillow at him.

"Ron is my friend," she said with precision, the words slipping through gritted teeth.

At her words, Draco rose and slowly walked toward her. The pure anger that had been apparent in his features was swallowed and transformed into a controlled and quiet fury that seemed to make Hermione the most uncomfortable.

She felt herself shrink as he grew uncomfortably close to her, his palms pressed into the bed on each side of her. She could feel the hot rage radiating off of him.

"Weasley," his lips were curled and she could see his teeth as he said the name, "is in love with you."

"That's - "

Absurd. Dumb. Idiotic.

Paranoid, at best.

Ron chose Lavender Brown. He showed no interest in Hermione.

Well, he sort of did…

Hermione's mind ran through all the times Ron acted a bit oddly toward her - the time he touched her outside of the Great Hall and asked for her forgiveness in a manner that had made her question his odd behavior. The way he acted unusually invested in her answer when Hagrid asked if she was dating anyone. The way his hug lingered a bit longer than she'd thought appropriate once he was out of the Hospital Wing. He had been trying to spend more time alone with her. But love? No. That was silly - how? Why?

She glanced up at the clear sterling eyes that bore into her, his gaze weighing heavily on her face and studying her response as if seeking any indication of flattery or happiness at the news of Ron's affections. The way he searched for answers, seeking to quell his own doubts that rang incessantly in his head struck Hermione out of her own anger and made her forget why she was upset to begin with.

"I don't want Ron," she said, her tone meek and quiet while her fingertips gently drifted up to brush against his cheek. She felt the muscle in his jaw clench against her touch before relaxing. She held his gaze, matching it with a look of openness that his scrutinizing gaze was no match for. "Draco, I want you. I only want you."

She could see the words disarm him as his gaze faltered briefly. Hermione tilted her head forward until there was no more room between them and tenderly captured his lips. For the moment, it seemed enough to appease him as his cold exterior melted, his muscles relaxing enough for Hermione to lean into him, wrap her arms around his torso and draw him into her, pulling them both backward into the bed as any shred of anger gave way once more to hunger.

Draco required only a few seconds to completely undress them, tearing off her knickers and ripping off the little clothes he had on his body before, for the third time in 12 hours, he took her.

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"You know," he said, his voice low and husky as he drew his index finger up her arm, letting his nail drag across her skin, "I've been thinking. I've had some time to consider everything that's gone on and," he paused to briefly lick his lips while his eyes wandered as though searching for the proper statement, "I've decided that I need some clarity."

Hermione rolled onto her side, hoisting herself up onto her elbow as she hung on his every word.

"Clarity on what?"

She didn't trust the look in his eyes as his gaze washed over her skin.

"I've discovered," he continued, "I am still a bit cross with you - over several things."

"Oh," Hermione responded, growing small at the news.

Her face fell and a knot began to form in Hermione's stomach as the hefty feelings of regret and guilt reared their ugly heads from their dormant dwelling to reappear in the forefront of her mind.

She thought that was over.

She thought they'd moved past it.

His words came seemingly out of nowhere as they'd had a lovely afternoon gathering herbs and vegetables. Despite Hermione's initial panic, Draco had offered to have her hold his wand while he carried the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Fortunately, there was no pressing need for the wands as the foraging was done without any complication or issue, sped-up exponentially by Hermione's nagging insistence that they'd had enough and should return back to the cave with haste.

Upon their return, Hermione sat on the carpet next to Draco's feet and scribbled notes on the various herbs she'd collected, along with their potential uses. Thus, given their ease and growing comfort around one another, it was a sincere surprise that Draco was cross at all.

"What can I do to make you happy with me?" Hermione asked, a stress-line creasing in her forehead as she thought of the potential methods of absolution he may require. She had already - quite literally (and tearfully and dramatically) - begged for his forgiveness.

Draco noticed the tension in her expression and the way her lip curled as she fought against an open frown. He pressed a finger under her chin to draw her up to look to him. He seemed somewhat amused, his expression not matching the weight of the words he was speaking - nor what Hermione was feeling.

"Well," he stated, "first I'd like you to undress."

She looked at him as though he had sprouted another head.

Draco ran his thumb over Hermione's parted lower lip, his own lips twisted into a belying playful smirk.

"What - Oh!"

She let out a small sigh of relief as realization dawned on her, but it was unfortunately short-lived as she processed his request.

"You want me to..." she bit her lower lip briefly, "er, undress now?"

"Yes. Now, Hermione," he answered, reaching to take her parchment paper and quill as he cast it aside.

Draco gripped her elbows and drew her up to stand before him while his gaze ran over her form, watching her with clear expectation while he leaned back in his seat and waited.

Hermione made no protest, but her embarrassment was evident in the rose-hue that formed in the tops of her cheeks and the way her fingers clumsily fumbled with the buttons of her shirt.

"Look at me," he said, his tone soft and gentle, yet the look she was met with was nowhere near timid.

Holding her gaze, he effortlessly reached forward and ran the side of his hand over the curve of her hip.

"Don't act so innocent," he teased, watching the flush of her cheeks deepen at his words which he acknowledged with deep lines of a smirk that formed at the corners of his lips.

Draco leaned forward and reached to take her hands, drawing them away before he overtook the task of undoing her shirt buttons in a fraction of the time it would have taken her. He rose to face her, pushing the white shirt off her shoulders to reveal her bare torso, clad only in the thin pink bra.

"I'm not acting innocent," she scowled in response as she reached to cover herself.

He tutted and shook his head, pacing slowly around her with his arms held behind his back.

"So defiant," he murmured under his breath, "How am I supposed to stop being cross?"

She squirmed at his words and felt herself holding her breath when he wrapped his arms around her waist and the sound of a zipper being undone was all that was heard before she felt a tug at her skirt and the fabric was yanked down, falling to the floor around her bare feet.

When he pulled back, his absence was felt as the cold air swirled around her.

"Why is it that I'm always the naked one and you're completely clothed?"

The whites of his eyes twinkled with amusement as he grinned at her. He dragged his fingers over the curve of her breast - a part that she had not been able to cover - before responding.

"Because you enjoy letting me have my way," he suggested.

She made no protest to that.

"Now, I'd like you to lie on the couch - no, not there," he indicated, pointing to the cushions. "Here."

She felt his hands at her waist as he gently positioned her to face the high circular armrest before his fingertips trailed up her spine with a feather-soft touch that made Hermione's back arch in response. They slipped into her lustrous curls and she felt the pressure of his palm on the base of her skull. He led her forward until her thighs hugged the fabric of the couch, forcing her to bend over with her bottom in the air.

Her toes could hardly reach the floor as her weight rested on the high structure. She could feel Draco's eyes on her as she turned her face into the back of the couch, shielding it from view as she squirmed in obvious discomfort.

"You've got quite the arse on you, Granger," he said with admiration as he took the sight of her in. He'd hardly had the opportunity to view her backside and was pleasantly surprised to find that Hermione carried a good portion of her weight in her hips and bum, resulting in the fleshy full curve of a plump bottom.

"I may have to hide all of your clothes and make you walk around naked," he whispered half to himself. He could see her squirm at his words. "It's a crime to keep you covered up."

He ran his palm over the curve of her bottom and upward to follow the arch of her spine before he leaned down to hover closely over her, his lips gently grazing the back of her neck.

"Do you remember your word?" he whispered into her skin.

Hermione scowled into the pillows.

Weasley, of course she remembered it. He had just told it to her that morning - as a mean jest, she'd thought.

"If you want me to stop for any reason, you can use that word."

"Weasley," she said, a feisty smirk on her lips. She could feel the air shift rapidly around the couch as Draco moved toward the back of the couch where her face was safely hidden in the cushions.

"Look at me," he ordered and she peeked up, attempting and failing to hide her mischievous smile. "Do you mean that? Do you want me to stop?"

She felt a shiver form at the nape of her neck as his fingers brushed her hair away from her face with a delicate tenderness that - for the briefest moment - made her regret her playful bit of snarkiness.

"No," she said, watching him roll his eyes at her.

"I'm going to take that word seriously - it'll obviously get me soft in a second, so don't use it unless you mean it, Granger," he instructed. "Gods, you deserve this more than I thought."

"Deserve what?" she demanded, trying to lift her head to look at him.

It was his turn to smirk as he ignored her question.

Without warning, his fingers deftly unclasped her bra and drew the straps down her arms before he tossed the pesky garment to the other side of the room. Hermione struggled to understand what about this interaction was causing her to want to hide from embarrassment. Draco had seen her in all her naked glory, yet this felt different. Perhaps it was the imbalance of power as she lay helplessly exposed, her body on full display. Perhaps it was his tone, both threatening and undeniably arousing, which made her feel nervous.

"Do you know why I'm upset with you, Granger?" he said almost thoughtfully. She could hear him walking around the couch, taking in every angle of her.

"No," she responded, her voice barely a squeak.

"Of course you do," he challenged, his fingertips suddenly grazing the arc of her bottom, ascending with the rounded slope of pale skin before they trailed over the fabric of her undergarment. As his nails scraped against her, Hermione instinctively squeezed her thighs together and lifted her feet in an attempt to cover herself as much as she could.

"Put your feet down," Draco demanded and, with a loud smack, Hermione felt the weight of his heavy open palm as it collided with the side of her bottom, the bite of the impact causing her to yelp with surprise.

She felt the tight grip of his fingers around her ankles as he forced her legs straight until her knees grazed the fabric of the couch.

"That's better."

Another rush of blood rose to her cheeks as she squirmed uncomfortably into cushion. The place where his palm landed, which had previously responded with an angry sting now dissipated into a sensation of heat and radiating tingles that made Hermione want to squirm into the armrest.

"Would you prefer your knickers stay on?" he asked, running his finger tauntingly over the edge of the fabric. She could feel him slip a finger under the elastic hem and draw it upward before letting it snap back in place.

"Yes!" she responded emphatically.

"It's too bad you don't get to choose, then, isn't it?" he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice, knowingly provoking her in her helpless state. Reminding her that she had very little say in the sinfully awful things he was about to do to her.

She scowled into the couch and lifted her feet again rebelliously, bending her knees outward as her feet covered her bottom.

"Hey!" he called out. "Is that how you're going to behave?"

The domineering bite of his tone was enough to instill fear in her, enough for her to cower momentarily.

"No," she said before voluntarily lowering her legs as her fingers dug into the cushion. She felt his fingers slither into her hair once more as he pulled her head up, away from the safe confines of the couch crevice, to face him. She could feel the rush of the cold air on her burning cheeks. The smirk on his face, the vulnerability of her position, and the way he pulled her hair with just enough tension to emit a mixture of pain and pleasure caused her to squirm - this time not from discomfort.

"Good," he whispered, his breath barely kissing the skin of her cheeks as he drank in the brief moment of submission she had given him. "I have enough to punish you for."

He pressed his lips hard into hers, commanding and forceful. She, in a near instant, acquiesced and eagerly reciprocated. His words did something to her. She could already sense the need that was throbbing in the pit of her belly for him, starving for him to address and relieve it.

Draco broke the kiss, much to her dismay, and in a swift movement walked around the couch to stand behind her. He rested his palm on the left cheek of her bottom, his fingers squeezing and caressing the soft ivory flesh that felt so pleasing against the grip of his fingers.

"I am upset with you, Granger," he explained, "because you were quite the reckless girl."

"What - reckless? Me? When on earth was I reckle- Ow!"

Thwack.

His palm came down heavily on her bottom, instigating a loud cry from her. Again he struck her on her other cheek causing her to jump and grit her teeth. The weight of his hand and the sensation of skin-on-skin sting created a burst of pain where he struck, leaving a wave of heat and pin-pricks in its stead. It confused her when the tingles seemed to grow and form a hot trail as it lead a path between her legs. Hermione squeezed her knees together, desperate to quell the sensation.

"You were reckless, you silly girl. Don't you remember downing a bottle of Poppy Milk and gallivanting in the woods alone and unarmed? That was absolutely irresponsible - "

Thwack.

"And foolish - "

Thwack, again, his palm came down.

"And dangerous."

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

Hermione yelped at the force of the last three as she squirmed and bent her body, attempting to dodge the blows. With each spank, her skin seemed to grow redder and angrier, burning and stinging until it felt raw under his heavy hand. With each strike, it felt as though he held less and less back.

"Fuck!" She cried out, slapping her own palm against the couch cushion as she bit through the pain.

"Does that hurt, Hermione?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle as he toyed with her hair again while his other hand cupped and squeezed the bright red skin that he had just abused. Hermione shook her head, hiding her face once more as she heard him chuckle.

"Oh, it doesn't? Shall I go harder then?"

The absence of a response from her caused him to laugh, clearly surprised at her endurance.

"Good. Because I'm not quite finished." Draco continued, his touch immediately missed as his fingers rose from her skin.

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Remainder of Chapter Omitted - Please see Author's Note Above

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