So, I wanted to take a second and talk about the update schedule. I will do my very, very, very best to have it out on Saturday for the last half of the story, but there may be sometimes where it posts on Sunday or at worst, Monday. This is due to a lot of factors, but mainly the way my work schedule works anymore.
Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! I appreciated them! 3
Huge thanks to my Alpha/Betas NuclearNik and Monica03, without them I would be a mess and this story would be a disaster. Also a huge thanks to my Omegas (pre-readers) MarshmallowMcGonagall, QuinTalon, and Weestarmeggie!
To everyone who reads, subscribes, bookmarks, comments/reviews, follows, reblogs, likes, etc: I appreciate you all SO VERY MUCH.
Time had been strange since Hermione had been unconscious for a few hours, then awake for the time spent with Draco before sleep had claimed her again. He woke her just prior to midnight, dressed her in the button-down pajama shirt that matched the bottoms he was wearing, and led her to the cellar in the dancing light of a candelabra. In the very center of the main room was a stone plinth topped with a basin covered in runes. It reminded her of a pensieve except it was far too shallow.
She rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes and noticed the small leather bag clutched in his other hand. "What's that?"
"So. When it comes to Old Magic: rituals, sacrifices, and the like are used instead of just whipping our wands out and wiggling them. Technically we could do it that way, but it doesn't quite cut it in comparison to doing it properly when it comes to end results. We want the Estate to include you in all of its ancient protections and benefits."
Fascinating. "Benefits?"
"While within the wards, you can never get lost no matter how deep into the woods you wander or how far beneath the surface of the lake you swim. Instinct will always lead you back, so if you happen to find yourself lost, stop thinking and allow your feet to return you." He conjured a small table and laid out an array of items similar to the night of the tarot reading.
"How does that work?" A hundred additional questions pressed against the backs of her teeth.
The tip of a silver knife pointed toward the rune-covered stone. "This plinth encases a keystone, where all the magic over the centuries of wizards and witches living here has been absorbed. It's where the wards and other enchantments draw power from. Every time you cast a spell, a part of that energy wends through the house and finds its way here. So, as Mother explained the other night, in order for you to gain something from that magic, you must sacrifice something. Give something in kind."
"Does this one involve chanting?" Fingers clenched in the soft, rich fabric of his pajama top where it rested around her thighs. This was exciting.
His lips quirked at the corners. "No, just the small sacrifice."
Her eyes darted around for an animal, thoughts going back to the bowl of what was likely freshly harvested meat and organs that had been used in the ritual she witnessed but found nothing.
Outside of their breathing, the grind of the mortar and pestle was the only other sound in the spacious cellar. It was eerie in the flickering of the candlelight. The shadows danced and swayed, playing tricks with her eyes and mind until Draco recaptured her attention by emptying the bowl into the basin. After that, he added the bell-shaped blooms from sprigs of white heather and chased them with hawthorn bark and chunks of vine.
"Did you know that the hawthorn tree represents love and protection?" His voice carried easily despite the low volume.
"No."
"I haven't done the best job of that in the past. Especially in regards to you." He froze for the briefest moment, his eyes darting to the dark mark on display as his left hand extended over the bowl where he was crumbling the bark. The dancing flames of the candlelight made him hard to read, but if she had a guess, self-loathing was coiling within him, wrapping around something to constrict. "Vine represents determination, endurance, and survival. Your wand clearly knew what it was doing when it chose you, at least."
"Draco…"
"You don't know what I'm capable of, Hermione. Not really. The things I've done. There's a reason I told you that neither I nor the Wizarding World would ever forget nor forgive." He shook his head, dispelling the haunted look. "You deserve so much better."
"You speak as if you're not a good man." Her heart rose in her throat.
"The mark on my arm proves I'm not."
"The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters, Draco." The memory of the last time she'd seen Sirius Black before his murder flashed in her mind.
The barest huff of dark laughter floated from his mouth.
She stepped up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him, resting her cheek against the bare skin between his shoulder blades. She refused to argue about this. If he still didn't believe it, she would just have to continue doing it for the both of them until the realization dawned on his stubborn ass. "I said what I said. Nothing you can say will change my mind."
He paused again, reanimating with the click of teeth as he shut his mouth. His right hand left the plinth and rested atop of hers as they lay splayed and fingers fitted between one another at his navel. It took her a moment to recognize that the new feeling emanating from his skin was gratitude. He audibly swallowed and resumed adding ingredients.
The silver knife was produced again. "Alright, step around here." He guided her until she was directly across from him, then put the knife in her hand. "I cannot take the blood from you, because then it wouldn't be a sacrifice. It doesn't need much, just a few drops, so don't go wild. Then I'll heal you. You'll do this after I light the fire."
It was smooth in her grip, and her fingers tightened around it. He lit a match and dropped it in, bright blue flames springing to life, then looked to her and nodded. She pressed the sharp tip to the center of her palm and dragged it half an inch across, disregarding the sting. Blood quickly welled from the wound and she held her hand palm down over the fire, pulling her fingers back, opening the gap further and watching as the drops dripped silently into the fire.
She was so enamored by the ethereal flames that she didn't see his hand reaching for hers until the soft fabric of a handkerchief was pressed tightly against her palm by his fingertips. His thumb rested across the back of her knuckles, and her fingers fell loosely closed around his. Hermione couldn't say why, but she reached out for his other hand and he almost seemed surprised by it before lacing their fingers together.
As the fire devoured the contents, a tingle began at her toes and worked upwards as the smokeless flame reduced in size. The tingling reached the very top of her head and just as the fire was absorbed into the stone, a rush of wind descended upon her, ruffling her hair and clothes before dying out. The basin was empty as if nothing had ever occurred. A curious tingle ignited in her belly, and her brows scrunched together.
"Feel it?"
She nodded.
"That means it worked. Another advantage is that now you can draw magic from the grounds should you need it. Every spell you cast on these grounds fed it, but now it's open for you to pull from since it's connected to you through your sacrifice." He pulled her to the side, where nothing was between them anymore. The handkerchief slid away and he trailed his fingertip across the gap, the skin knitting cleanly and fading as if nothing happened. She wouldn't even have a scar.
Something occurred to her. "What sort of power are we talking about?"
"Enough that neither of us would be able to use it up even if we lived to be five hundred."
A scowl settled across her face. "No wonder you weren't even winded after our duel." She snatched her hand out of his and took a step back. "Cheating!"
He scoffed and followed her, grabbing her waist. "We could go out and duel in the middle of Diagon, Granger, and the result would be the same. I'm part beast, my magical well is far deeper than yours because of it."
"You're not a beast." She pursed her lips and jabbed him in the chest with her finger.
It explained why he could take most any sort of spell and the damage would be minimal. She swallowed down a sigh. It's not like it was his fault.
"Do you want to go back to bed?" He ignored her objection and pulled her forward, her thighs barely brushing against his pajama pants.
"I don't feel particularly tired but I should at least try so my sleep schedule doesn't get screwed up too badly. I don't imagine I'd cope with it well now that I know what good sleep is li—" Her reply morphed into a squawk as he unexpectedly spun her to the side and scooped her up in his arms. On instinct, her arms went around his neck. If she'd thought about it, she may have just wrapped her hands around it for startling her.
"I can walk you know."
He merely shrugged and took off walking. The candelabra floated along behind them, casting long shadows and making him seem impossibly tall.
All was still and silent in the enormous house, making the sight of swaying branches through the windows noticeable. She started when lightning flashed and the accompanying thunder boomed overhead. He snickered, then full out laughed when she scowled at him. Her hand darted down and pinched his nipple, then she smirked when he jerked just as she had.
"You'll regret that."
"I'm sure." It occurred to her, too late, that he'd left her covered in welts the other day even though the remedy had been delicious.
"Famous last words." There was promise there, and she shivered as his hand squeezed her thigh.
The bedclothes were neat and turned down, making it easy for him to tuck her in. She rolled to her side and wondered if the elves would accept some sort of thank you, even if it was as simple as a batch of cookies. He circled the bed and climbed in on the other side, mirroring her. A fingertip stroked along the back of her hand as he watched her.
His words from earlier came back and reverberated around her skull until she couldn't contain it anymore. "You're not a fucking beast," she whispered, catching his hand and clutching it tightly as it started to slide away. "You're Draco Malfoy, and I love you."
He exhaled harshly through his nose, studying her with stormy eyes. She realized that she was likely bombarding him with her riotous emotions and dropped his hand as if her touch was burning him. It dawned on her that he'd always felt what she was feeling every time he'd touched her and had done what he could to mitigate the overwhelming emotion. She should go back to her own bed until she could get the tsunami inside her under control.
She flipped over and was halfway sat up when one arm slid around her waist and the other came across her chest like a seatbelt strap and pulled her against him. The pounding of his heart could be felt against her back.
"Where were you running off to?" The hair next to her ear that'd come loose from her braid rippled with his breath and a shiver shot down her spine.
"I wasn't running."
"Oh? Skipping off to the loo then?" The sarcasm was sharp enough to cut.
"No. It's probably better if I return to my bed for the night." Her fingers pleated the sheets.
"As I said, Granger, running away."
"I'm not! I just realized that you've been able to feel everything this entire time. That you've siphoned away every negative and overwhelming emotion until I can cope again."
He froze, then pulled her more firmly against him. "I thought you already knew, or I'd have told you."
She shook her head. "I thought it was just a side effect of our connection until earlier. Every other time had been something I needed, but when I was pressed against you, you sent me something intentionally." Looking at the overall situation she realized just how mentally tired she was to have just now connected those dots. The events she was refusing to think on clearly still weighed heavily on her psyche.
"It wasn't my intention to keep that from you; I hope you know that." A new emotion slid through her and it took her a minute before she could identify it as sincerity.
"I believe you. I'm clearly still affected by—" She waved her hand in the general direction of the windows.
"Of course you are. Merlin, Granger, you've had no time to process and deal with it. Just—"
"Which is why I should probably sleep in my own bed. I'm barely able to contain this, this overwhelming—"
"Don't go." His voice was hoarse, ragged.
"I don't want to bombard you with this. You'll never get any sleep if I stay here, sending you this tidal wave of emotions with every breath."
"I certainly won't get any without you here, so there's no point in you running away."
"I'm not running away! I'm trying to spare you this mess." She wriggled in his arms, attempting to slide down, but the arm across her chest kept her locked in place.
"I don't need to be spared anything." Her mouth opened but before anything could come out he rushed on ahead. "Not like that. I'm your mate, I'm designed and equipped to take perfect care of you. More than that, I want to, damn it, so stop trying to run off and let me help you, stubborn witch." He leant down and nipped her shoulder through the fabric, making her gasp and then freeze.
"Won't it be exhausting?" Merlin knew it was for her.
"Lying in bed with you like we are now is quite restful. How do you think this works?"
She clenched her jaw and scowled. "Why don't you explain it to me?" Before she had a chance to make herself look even more stupid.
He rubbed the tip of his nose along the sensitive spot underneath her ear, occasionally kissing it. "I'm gathering that you think you bombard me with any emotion you're feeling and I'm susceptible to it, but that's not quite right. You have to have intent for me to feel it, rather than just experiencing or being swept up in it just because you are. Yes, I can feel it. No, it does not overtake me. I siphon some of it from you by choice, but mainly I just lend you some calm or serenity until you can regain your footing yourself."
"That's not possible. I can't. I cannot do that."
"Yes, you can. You always have before."
That didn't make any sense. She hadn't been able to take control of her own emotional state in years. Rather, the inverse had happened. She relaxed back into him, the additional tension bleeding from her body despite the storm still raging throughout her system. If that was so, however, that meant she could stay here, with him.
He nudged her until she rolled over to face him. "Unbutton your shirt."
The buttons felt too small in her trembling fingers, but eventually, the fabric fell open. He pushed it from her shoulders and guided her arm around his neck until she got the idea and wrapped them around him, pressing close and reveling in the warmth. His hand slid down behind her knee and hitched it over his hip, where she tightened and pressed herself entirely to him, his arms holding her close.
"You don't want to hear this but I'm going to say it anyway, even if it makes you fire-breathing angry. Your biggest problem is that you run away from the emotions because before, you couldn't cope with them, so you just did what you had to to survive and it's become a habit. Stop running and square with it."
"I ca—"
"Do not give me that 'I can't' bullshit. You can, Hermione."
She wanted to rebuke the accusation that she ran from the problem but it was too close to the truth, and she liked to think that she wasn't totally oblivious to said truth. Wouldn't have reacted so strongly to his accusation when she'd been trying to leave.
"I don't know how." There was never a worse feeling than admitting she lacked the ability to do something, but with him, it felt more like asking for his help than a defeat.
"You have to experience whatever it is you feel about these things. Anger, hate, rage, grief, fear, anguish, whatever. I've always sent you comfort before, because you weren't ready to cope, but now you are. I'm not going to send you anything tonight, but that doesn't mean I'm not available to be drawn from if you truly need it. I'm here, right here." His arms squeezed her for a moment. "I've got you, but you can do this."
Despite the additional physical contact, the usual waves didn't come to wash everything away. It lapped at her, like the sea over her feet and ankles when she would walk on the beach on holiday. It sparked the realization that she didn't have to dive into the deep end and wash away everything else. How was she ever going to cope properly if all she did was clean the wound, then cover it back up to continue festering? It was simple, she wouldn't, and until she learned how to again, her life would never come back to normal.
Until then, she would never be the one in control. Not really.
"Breathe."
She took a deep breath, and he matched her, then again and again. His hands slid up and down her back as she began working through the emotions and letting herself feel. Flashes of her house burning ripped through her thoughts; she could vividly recall the smell of the smoke and feel of the heat as it roiled off in waves. A wave of grief slammed across her, and in turn, she drew the slightest thread of comfort from him and in the end, it did not drag her beneath the surface. Warm fingers cupped the back of her neck, and she pressed her face further against him, tears transferring to his skin as she sobbed in great shuddering breaths.
It could have been hours that she lay in his arms, allowing the feelings to take their course, but not own her as she clung to him. She finally figured out how to stop drowning and learned to tread water. Her tears had run dry and she felt empty, but for the first time since Hogwarts, she felt in control. Draco may not have been the one to have fixed her, but it was clear that he was the rock she could hold on to to weather the waves rather than getting sucked into the riptide or being completely shielded from the storm. In the end, she had done it herself.
Her limbs felt like lead, eyes dry, her body a deadweight.
"Feel better?" Warm breath ruffled her hair.
She nodded. "I love you."
"I love you." He tilted her head back and pressed his lips to hers once, then again. "You should sleep if you still want to go to The Hovel and not look a banshee."
She nipped his chin but couldn't help the huff of laughter. "It's The Burrow. And thank you."
"For insulting you? I wasn't aware you had a degradation kink, Granger. I'll make a note of that."
"Ugh, you complete arse, I meant for—"
"I thought you were going to sleep?"
She was tempted to stay awake both out of spite and for him interrupting her, but the hands that were still rubbing that relaxing cadence were already persuading her to comply. "Fine, this time I will. Consider it your sole win."
A chuckle brushed against her scalp as he settled in around her, and she closed her eyes. Before succumbing to the darkness, it occurred to her that Draco likely wouldn't say those words often, but he'd never hold back when he knew she really needed to hear it.
Daylight was peeking in the windows when she woke again, this time alone. As she stretched, she realized how much lighter, more alive she felt. She supposed learning how not to drown would do that to a person.
She readied herself for the day and when she passed the dining room table, she found a plain white cube of a box and a note on top. Draco had gotten a hostess gift for her to give to Molly— that she was not to peek at and he was visiting his mother and aunt before they departed for Iceland. The last words scratched on the parchment were a reminder to not forget they had a dueling date. Ugh, dueling. How entirely unromantic.
The paper went in her pocket and now with her curiosity on fire, she attempted to open the box, except it wouldn't comply and stayed stubbornly shut. She huffed, now positive that he'd only done that to frustrate her. It was a charm she knew where only the recipient could open it or else the entire package would have to be destroyed to get to the contents.
She gave up, gathered her things, and went to the traveling room and through the Floo. The Burrow was as warm, comforting, and homelike as it'd ever been. Molly greeted her upon arrival and it wasn't until the other woman had opened the box in the kitchen that Hermione realized she hadn't given it a passing thought what Draco might send along. Turned out, it was an upscale charcuterie tray with a keg bottle of fine wine. Leave it to wizards to ban extension charms that didn't get prior Ministry approval, yet leave it open to manufacturers to exploit. The box itself had apparently been blessed with the same thing because Molly pulled out tray after tray of meats, cheeses, pickles, and the like. It was enough for a house of guests, which was handy because the entire clan plus friends were supposed to converge on the property at any minute. It'd be her first real test as to how far she'd come.
The day went quite well, much to her relief. She was able to socialize, eat, play games, and relax with her friends in a way that nine months prior would have been impossible. The day wore on and while she enjoyed herself, far more than once she'd caught herself turning her head to speak to someone who wasn't with her. The first time it had happened had been an hour after her arrival, and ever since then her awareness of his absence steadily grew. Not even Ron's return from a several month's long mission abroad could fill the gap despite the pockets of time where it was just the three of them, heads close together and talking like old times.
Their dueling date wasn't until five, but at three o'clock she found her feet itchy to be on her way home. So she bade her friends farewell and gave hugs all around. When she made to enter the house, Molly caught her and pulled her to the side.
"Hermione, dear. I just wanted to say that I noticed how much better you're doing. Ginny told me about it, and I just wanted to let you know that I'm so glad to see you getting back to the happy young woman from before. Don't be a stranger dear." Molly hugged her and then headed out into the yard.
Hermione didn't mind Ginny telling her mother, and she hoped that maybe it would make the woman reconsider her position on therapy. In any case, the Weasley matron seemed back to her normal treatment of her and not for the first time, Hermione was glad to have remained only an honorary family member.
To get to the Floo, she had to pass hugs out to most of the Weasley men, Lee Jordan, and Seamus Finnigan. Before anyone else could delay her, she stepped into the Floo and spun away. When she stepped out of the Floo, a grin curved her lips. There was no logic to it, but she could just tell he was home. She quickly shucked her cloak, used her wand to remove any residual soot, and headed out in search of Draco.
Instincts lead her to the back veranda, where she saw him standing out in the lawn, waving his wand about to little effect. He was in his usual three-piece suit, but without the jacket and tie, his sleeves rolled up just above his elbows. His shoulders were tense, back ramrod straight. Before he could have another go, his head turned sharply in her direction, then he pocketed his wand and turned.
"You're home early. Everything alright?"
"Yes, it was fun. Thank you for your gift, by the way, they appreciated it. I just missed you and was ready to come home..."
He started towards her at the utterance of those words, determination in his step. He was nearly upon her when he froze again. Nostrils flared as he inhaled, his eyes turned from soft gray to silver. Something shifted behind his gaze, and she had the urge to back away. Instinctually, she froze and watched as he closed the distance in two slow steps, then dipped his head down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a lung-full in through his nose. He straightened again, eyes glittering and the hair at the nape of her neck stood on end.
"Who all did you say was there?" His fingers tapped benignly over where his wand rested.
"There were loads of people, Draco. Why?" Something was wrong.
"I'm just curious as to why you smell so strongly like other men." His pupils had reduced to pinpricks.
"What?!"
His fingers had curled and were rubbing at the palms of his hands as if he were refraining from grabbing ahold of her.
"You're not hard of hearing, Granger, and you're certainly not stupid. Just tell me who it was and I'll take care of them."
It was as if a glow had settled upon his skin, like the faintest moonlight and his fists were clenched and trembling. Something clicked in her brain from the journal she'd read.
According to Draco's great-great-great-great grandfather, the Veela aspect overcomes all sense and reason if they think their mate is in danger, or if another has touched their unclaimed mate.
They'd yet to consummate the mating bond. The ring on her finger claimed her as his, but biologically it wasn't enough. Once complete, Draco would probably have the propensity to be jealous, but he wouldn't be biologically motivated to go rip throats out.
He shuddered, and if she didn't intervene soon she'd find out what his wings looked like and then she'd be fucked in a completely different way seeing as he could take to the air and the only way that would end was a fight at The Burrow.
"You could just give me your jumper, and I could figure it out for myself." Her attention fell to his extended hand, and she swallowed. It could be her mind playing tricks, but his nails seemed to have grown and sharpened into small points, as if he were forming claws. When transformed, Full Veela had claw-like fingers, so she could only deduce that it was the manifestation of his gene blend.
If scent triggered the Veela biology, then surely the same thing could undo it. She backed away first one step, then two, her heart slammed against her ribs as his eyes narrowed. The word predator flashed in her mind like a neon light. She turned and ran back to the house, slamming the door behind her as she bolted through it.
It never met the frame, which meant either he caught it or his magic did. She could barely make out the click of boots over the roar in her ears as he followed after her, although he was walking at a much more benign pace. Likely because she was boxing herself in and he had the full capability of disarming or catching her before she Disapparated. The door to the traveling room slammed shut, the lock clicking into place. She didn't even blink, her destination around the corner. She had one shot at fixing the situation.
Fingers scrabbled at the door frame as she swung through it, eyes darting wildly around the room. The bed was made, but by sheer luck, the shirt she'd folded and lay on the back of the chair they'd used was still there. She dove for it and her fingers just closed around it when the bedroom door slammed shut, the lock clicking.
Whirling around, she squeaked when she saw he was mere feet away. She'd expected him to be across the large room still and started backing away. He stalked after her, long legs eating up the distance and she gasped when her legs hit the back of the bed and she fell. She bounced but did not stop moving, crawling backwards. Draco didn't slow even when he reached the bed, smoothly transitioning to crawling on his hands and knees after her, bare forearms flexing with the movement. It was reminiscent of a tiger she'd seen stalking prey on television.
She stopped and watched with her heart hammering as he crawled over her and hovered, studying her from his vantage point. He would never hurt her, she knew this but she didn't fear for herself. He leant down and drug the tip of his nose along her jaw before hovering inches above her mouth.
"I must confess, the temptation to devour you is almost irresistible."
His pupils had blown wide and he was now looking at her with a different sort of hunger. If she didn't know that he wanted to wait for whatever magical phenomena he had in mind, she would pursue that avenue wholeheartedly. He dipped his head down and kissed her slow once, then twice and was enamored in the headiness of it before the tug and rip of fabric caught her attention again.
"CHEATING." She shoved the wadded up shirt against his face, holding it across his nose and mouth as he sucked in a surprised breath at her outburst, eyes wide as they stared at one another.
He froze, exhaling a shuddering breath before sucking in another, not fighting her. With each breath his eyes shifted from glittering silver back to his usual soft light gray before they became filled with horror. He sat back on his knees, stumbling back and falling from the bed, yet keeping the fabric pressed against his face. He didn't stop until his back hit the wall.
She pulled her wand from her arm holster and cast a freshening charm on the entire room, then stripped to her knickers and vanished the clothes to her bathroom for the elves to collect. For good measure she charmed her hair fresh twice before climbing off the bed and slowly making her way over to Draco. He watched every step she took, every sway of her breasts. She squashed the silly notion of covering herself, seeing as he'd had her splayed wide quite recently.
He held a hand up to ward her away, yet she merely linked their fingers together before straddling him and sinking to her knees, coming to rest on his lap. When she made to pull the shirt away, his fingers tightened, keeping it pressed firm across his face.
"Draco it's alright, the smell is gone." When he kept it where it was she frowned. "Look, just test the air, if you can still smell anything we'll put it back."
He thought about it for a beat before pulling it down and giving a hesitant sniff, then a deeper one. The cloth dropped to the floor.
"I'm—"
"Don't you dare try to apologize."
His features smoothed completely. "You're right, what I did was unforgivable."
Frustration rumbled in her throat. "There's nothing to forgive. You did not choose to do that." Her finger poked him in the chest with every word.
"How do you know? I spoke quite clearly." His head tilted to the side.
"Something in you shifted. I've never seen anything like that before, but I know the exact moment where you disappeared behind the Veela haze."
"I told you I was a beast. Maybe now you'll finally believ—"
She leaned forward, griping his waistcoat in both fists as she pressed her mouth hard against his before pulling back just enough to look in his eyes. "Shut. Up. With that nonsense. I read the diaries and I wager you have too. All we need to do is stay away from people for three more weeks. And I'll try not to maul you so often." Her cheeks burned, eyes dropping to stare at his buttons. The cool of the room had pebbled her nipples and the drag of them across his waist coat when she kissed him made her realize just how many sexual encounters they'd had recently that she'd either initiated or asked for.
His hands were warm on her hips as his thumbs rubbed circles. He leaned his head forward, pressing their foreheads together until she looked up. "There's nothing wrong with what we're doing, frequency or otherwise. Mates typically consummate immediately after acceptance, the urge is so strong. Even after, every diary I've ever read hints at an exceptionally active sex life. If you need me to back off, I will, but what we're doing is natural. Don't hold back on anything you want."
She swallowed, then licked her lips. Due to the antiquated notions of the wizarding world, she'd been concerned that he'd start to perceive her as a hussy despite how he'd never even remotely indicated any such thing. On the contrary, so far he'd been enthusiastic about her touches and advances.
"Okay. So I'll keep my distance from other people and we'll indulge those urges. That ought to keep things at bay."
"Yes, that ought to keep the beast hap—"
"What did I say about that?" Her finger came up, hovering directly in front of his nose.
Quick as a flash he had both of her wrists behind her back and securely in one of his hands. The tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth told her he'd done that to get a reaction out of her, but he watched her steadily. Since she no longer had use of her hands, she rolled her hips, grinding down on the bulge in his trousers. He groaned low in his throat, his mouth falling open when she did it again.
"I want to go get something from my room real quick." No sooner than the words were out of her mouth he let her go. She rolled from her knees to her feet and made the short jaunt back to her room for a package Ginny had sent her. Since Hermione had no way of going out and shopping for things alone, and knew of no places to even see if they had a catalogue, she had to rely on Ginny.
She shucked her knickers in favor of a pair made of red satin. The box was exactly where she'd left it and quickly came open to reveal a black sheer bodystocking. She vividly remembered the way his hands had clung to her stocking covered legs the first time she gave him a handjob. So she'd requested the shopping assistance of Ginny.
When she returned, Draco was sitting at the foot of the bed sans socks and boots. His eyes immediately honed in on the knickers, and then drifted up to her hands. She went to the chair and spun it around with her wand. She was careful to sit on the edge before she unfurled the hosiery. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, then finally snapped back shut as he watched her slowly pull the lingerie on, gliding it up her calves, thighs, and abdomen before carefully pulling and adjusting until it felt perfect and clung to her skin. The thing she hadn't counted on was the lack of cups but judging from the look in his eye, he didn't seem to mind. She stared at him intently until he got the idea and slipped inside her mind for but a moment, quickly examining the imagery she was pushing at him. When he retreated his pupils were blown, eating up most of the gray.
She made her way back over, coming to a stop between his thighs. Fingertips glided along the outside of her knee, turning into a full palm touch by mid-thigh. Her fingers went to his waistcoat and with a touch of magic, it fell open. He cupped her cheeks, squeezing, then pulled her forward, flush against him, one hand sliding to the small of her back and the other dropping back down, fingers clutching at her inner thigh. His cheek nuzzled against her stomach, silky hair brushing along the undersides of her breasts, a slight quiver to his breath as he inhaled and exhaled. Warmth from his palms trailed along her skin as he explored the landscape of her. Hermione's hands brushed through his hair, nails trailing along his scalp as he mouthed at her.
He tilted his head, looking up at her with lust filled eyes. "I'd like to add something." The low huskiness caused warmth to bloom in her belly and she nodded.
Hands guided her back just enough for him to stand, and he pulled two lengths of wide red satin ribbon from his pocket. "Remember, no is always an option."
He watched until she nodded again, then gently grasped her wrists and began to wend the satin around them until she was firmly bound, but still comfortable. He tested her fingers after he was finished, having her flex and wiggle to ensure it was comfortable. With the other strand, he wrapped it around her neck, smoothly looping it around and around like a bandage until he tied a bow on the side, tucking in the ends. It was just snug enough to stay in place without constricting.
"Alright?" Thumbs traced along her cheeks, and she gave a dip of her chin. He pulled a long chain from his pocket and slid it through his fingers until a pair of simple clamps rested in his palm. When she didn't object, he turned his attention to her nipples, pinching and rolling first one, then the other into a stiff peak before applying the clamp and twisting the little knob until it was just shy of painful.
He looped the chain around his fist and began to slowly back around to his side of the bed. At first, she hadn't moved quickly enough and gasped at the tug, catching up to him quickly. Dropping the chain, he spun her around, giving her just enough of a push to send her off balance and go bouncing back to the mattress. The chain bounced with the force, tugging at her again and causing her to groan.
She watched through hooded eyes as he stripped down to nothing, joining her and guiding her to the center. He rolled her to her side, facing away from him and he pressed his hips against her, rubbing his stiff cock along the seam of her thighs as his hand slid across her belly and gathered the length of chain, again looping it in his fist. She lifted her leg a tad when he nudged her with his knee, then felt as he slid his cock between them, the top tucked tightly against her satin panty covered crotch. He pressed his knee against her outer thigh, closing and pressing down until he was satisfied. She held her thighs tightly as the pressure of him left, doing her best to maintain it.
His hands returned to tracing her as he pressed himself against her back from ankle to shoulder, his cheek resting against her neck where he could nip and mouth the flesh not covered in satin. His cock throbbed and then he began to shift his hips, slowly thrusting against her, grinding his pelvis against her bottom. With every stroke his head brushed against her clit through the satin and she whimpered, biting her lip. Hot breath flowed across her neck with each pant from where he'd tucked his face against her.
The pace was slow, deliberate, as if he were determined to fully experience every sensation incurred from each thrust and drive her completely insane in the process. Every so often he'd give the chain a tug, as if to remind her it was there and delivering a heady shot of pain dusted pleasure. Her arousal began to soak the material, and he pulled her hands down to the juncture of her thighs, his head bumping against the pads of her fingers as he moved. The satin loops of the bow were gathered in her palm, and he curled her fingers in a way where he was thrusting into her palm, letting out a groan as she applied light pleasure.
His voice was rough, gravelly in her ear. "Do you like me fucking your thighs, Granger? Do you enjoy the feel of my hard cock so close to your cunt, rubbing your clit, yet not enough to make you come? You don't have to answer, I can feel it with the way you're getting wet for me." He nipped her ear, pulling the lobe with his teeth and releasing it. "I could come, you know, and leave you wanting until I was ready to go again. Is that what you want? For me to coat you in my come and leave you high and dry?"
She shook her head sharply and yelped when he gave the chain another sharp tug.
"There's no use in lying to me, Hermione, I can feel how positively soaked you became at the mere mention. Slide a finger on either side of your clit." He waited until she complied. "Now rock them side to side and squeeze with your knuckles."
She groaned as she worked herself, feeling the heat building quickly he began to pick up his pace, pelvis smacking against her bottom with each thrust and she whimpered. Quicker than expected, she felt the tell-tale flutters that came just before she came.
"Stop."
She blinked, her fingers lagging behind, then yelping and freezing in surprise as he gave the chain a sharp yank.
"I said stop." He nipped her ear harder. "I thought you wanted to be my good girl?"
Her fingers trembled, aching to flick just a couple more times and send her into bliss but she remained still. "I do."
"Then don't make me have to tell you twice." The "Or else" hung between them.
"I'm sorry."
"You certainly will be if I have to repeat myself again." A tug from the chain gave all the emphasis needed to make it clear.
The knowledge that her body was still giving him pleasure while she was being denied fanned the flames.
"I don't want to have to punish you, but I will if you give me no other choice."
Scenes flashed through her mind, sometimes involving his belt, others his hand, occasionally a paddle, but always with her across his lap and her cheeks all but glowing red.
When her breathing became less frantic he pressed against the back of her hand and she started up the motions again. Again when she was seconds away from exploding, he commanded her to stop. She couldn't hold back the low whine, toes curled and thighs trembling in frustration.
His pace increased, thrusting harder, and he had to move his hand to her hip to hold her in place. The fire fell just short of scorching when he whispered, "Wank."
Her cheeks flamed to life at the use of the word in relation to her just as they had the last time he'd said it, but she obeyed, not wanting to find out just how he would punish her if he had to say it again.
For a third time, her fingers pinched, rubbed and teased until she was seconds away. She began to tighten around nothing when he said it again, voice rasping and harsh. "Stop."
Her whole body seemed to tremble in agony over being led to the brink so many times and not being allowed to fall, a sob ripping from her throat as she stilled her fingers. Her nipples throbbed from the clamps, keenly feeling each tiny tug from where his hips were jerking hers along with the hand clamped there as he pounded against her.
Minutes later, he withdrew and rolled her to her back, dropping the chain on her before straddling her chest.
His hand moved furiously over his cock, the thumb of his other hand slipping into her mouth. She dragged the tip of her tongue across it before she sucked. His eyes were blazing and he withdrew the digit, moving his hand to her jaw.
"Lift your head." The head of his cock was so close to her face when she did. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue." His hand held onto her jaw after she complied, flattening the muscle and curling it up the sides.
His eyes were boring down into hers when suddenly they slammed shut and his shoulders curled forward, a guttural groan wrenching from him as the first two spurts landed on her tongue. He redirected at the last moment, blowing the rest of his thick load across her cheeks. It made her wonder if he'd taken something to increase the quantity.
He let go of her jaw and grabbed the headboard as he knelt over her, recovering until he stopped trembling. Gray eyes opened and he surveyed her. "Hold it." Two pillows moved behind her head so she could relax again. The taste of him was tangy on her tongue as she held it in her mouth.
He wiped off the remnants clinging from his tip to her chin and climbed off of her, surveying her from head to toe, latching onto the tremble in her thighs and sway of her breasts as she breathed harshly through her nose.
"Remove your hand."
She slid them to rest on her hip, fingers curled and nails digging into her palm. His eyes didn't leave her face, as if he were memorizing the sight of her covered in his come as he moved to rest next to her hip. He gathered the chain again and parted her thighs with one hand, settling himself between them on his stomach and slipping her thighs over his shoulders.
"You were such a good girl."
Her clit throbbed and desperation pounded through her. She couldn't stop thinking about the taste of him and the feel of it on her skin, how he'd used her purely for his pleasure until now.
"Swallow."
She did, quickly, relieved when she could breathe through her mouth again, and a whine left her when he dragged the tip of his nose across her clit, the material drenched and clinging to her.
"You may come when you're ready." Her heart thundered at the words.
He peeled the fabric from her, yanking it to the side with two fingers and taking a long lick with the flat of his tongue before latching on to her clit and suckling, swirling his tongue around her. Her back arched, her head pressing against the pillows. He worked her furiously, gently tugging the chain. She lasted minutes before her whole body began to shake. A scream ripped from her throat as she came harder than she ever had before, and he gave a sharp yank, popping both clamps off, causing her to flinch away in pain-filled pleasure.
His mouth slowed to a stop and finally pulled off of her when her trembling slowed to quivers and rested his head against her thigh, one hand resting curled atop it. He looked exceptionally pleased, mouth and chin coated in her wetness, when she opened her eyes again.
"That was the most intense thing I've ever felt." Her voice was raspy, but it wasn't anything a nice hot cup of tea couldn't soothe.
"Did you like it?"
"Very much. Thank you."
"If anything I should be thanking you, Granger." His eyes were light, and he looked the picture of ease. "You look delicious with my come on your face."
"Ditto."
He blinked before tucking his face against her thigh and laughing until his shoulders shook. He'd laughed in front of her before, of course, but he'd never looked so unguarded as he did here, now, with her. He was so beautiful.
Blood pooled in her cheeks as she pressed her lips together, unable to stop herself from grinning. Maybe if she concentrated on that she could manage to keep any other errant thoughts in while she found out what exactly he'd done with the filter that went between her brain and her mouth.
When he was calm again, he rose and removed the ribbons, tossing them to the nightstand before scooping her from the bed and carrying her into the shower.
Much like the night before, he reverently scrubbed every inch of her and then washed her hair. Hermione had never felt so loved. She had to stop him in the middle of rinsing her mane to cup his face with both hands, focusing on the overwhelming warmth in her chest and imagining it flowing outwards through her hands. The tremble of his fingers let her know she was successful, as well as his repeated, desperate claiming of her mouth.
See you all this weekend!