A/N: BUCKLE UP. Much love to raven-maiden and saintdionysus for PERFECTING this with me. (You're free to disagree of course. meh.)
This chapter is massive as you can see. I'm going to need one more week between chapters to catch up on some Real Life projects I've been neglecting. Next update will be June 21, but this cliffhanger is not nearly as bad as the last few.
Just a note: A lot of people got tripped up on this, so I thought I'd address it. Ted Tonks is dead, per canon. Lucius was referring to Ted Nott in the previous chapter, and Narcissa's "sister" is Bellatrix - both of them were in Switzerland.
CONTENT WARNING: Gore, violence, and death.
Yellow light burst in front of her eyes, blinding her.
A spell zipped by her ear like a bullet, and the floor rattled below her feet. She ducked, her arms coming up over her ears, and then she was being dragged by an arm around her waist — slipping in her heels.
She jerked her head to where she'd just seen George, but there was no flash of orange hair.
"Granger!"
A hand on her shoulder shoved her into the wall, and she gasped as the couch behind her exploded in a spray of fluff and velvet.
Draco crouched, yanking her down next to him. His wand extended, his shoulders broadened in front of her. The castle trembled. The screaming pierced her eardrums, and her eyes flitted wildly.
The girl who'd been Splinched lay unmoving on the other side of the couches, trampled by heavy Death Eater boots.
Her mind reeled at a breakneck pace.
The Order was here. The True Order.
They were trying to take the girls out — and failing. Because of the tattoos.
Draco shot a Stunning Spell from his wand. She grabbed his wrist.
"Don't Stun them! They'll be taken prisoner—!"
"What, then?" he hissed. "Tickling Jinxes?"
Across the room, her eyes caught on a tall woman with tight braids and black combat clothes surveying the dead Carrow Girl. When the woman stood, Hermione saw she had no left arm.
Angelina Johnson.
She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled, setting Hermione's teeth on edge. Her voice was rough as she bellowed, "Plan B!"
The room seemed to reignite with curses as Angelina slashed her wand through the air, marking the Carrow Girl with a black "X." Adrian Pucey snuck around the couch just behind her, his wand drawn, holding Mortensen as a shield against his chest. Hermione gasped as Angelina whipped around and hit him squarely between the eyes with a Killing Curse. Before his body had hit the ground, she'd grabbed Mortensen's arm, sliced it off at the elbow, and summoned a button from her pocket.
Mortensen's screams abruptly halted as they disappeared in a spray of blood.
Hermione's chest seized as the wall behind her vibrated. Draco yanked her several meters away, crouching behind an overturned table as the room swelled with screams.
Portkeys.
Somehow, they'd made Portkeys that could penetrate the wards. And since Mortensen wasn't lying on the ground, Splinched… the Lots could escape without their arms.
Draco grabbed her knee and pointed his wand at her heels, transfiguring them into flats. His eyes were wide and frenzied as they flickered around the chaos. "We have to get to a fireplace."
He cast a basic Protection Charm around them, and they darted through the tattered furniture and splintered end tables, sprinting across the open spaces toward the side of the room with the booths. The smell of blood and smoke was thick in her nostrils, and she searched the room for George, but there were too many bodies — running, dying, screaming curses.
The back of a True Order fighter with grey-streaked hair burst into existence just feet in front of them and they stopped dead, stumbling to take cover behind a drink trolley. He hauled a Carrow Girl up from the floor, ignoring her screams as he raised his wand to slice her arm.
"Not ze silver collars!"
Hermione's head whipped around at the voice, and her eyes popped when she saw Fleur Delacour in dark combat clothes, her hair shorn to her ears — pulling a man from a private booth and slicing his neck as his Carrow Girl shrieked.
A sharp tug had her shrinking low again, holding her breath.
"We must find ze Carrows!"
She saw the older fighter drop the Carrow Girl and turn his wand swiftly on Bletchley as he ran for it. The curse skidded across his shoulder blades, and he dropped with a howl. The older man didn't bother finishing him off. He just moved forward, casting hexes and Killing Curses.
Draco dragged her up, pushing her to her feet to run. A buzzing filled her ears, growing louder and louder as they dodged curses and jumped over bodies. Gold collared girls scattered, sprinting for the exits as the soldiers moved in on guests and Death Eaters, killing indiscriminately.
They turned a corner and passed Marcus Flint on the ground, coughing a spray of blood as Penelope pressed her hands to his chest, her eyes wild and begging for help. Hermione could do nothing but blink at her as they ran by.
Her eyes scanned for clean exits, her throat tight with panic as Draco yanked her down the row of booths.
She needed to get him to a fireplace. And she had to go back to find George and Angelina and Fleur. As soon as they got her out, she could explain about the Malfoys. They could go to the Manor and grab her research and smuggle them out, take them all to France—
But there was no time to explain when people were casting Killing Curses at him. She had to get him out.
Rounding the final booth, they froze in their tracks to find a pile of people trampling each other, screaming and stepping over dead bodies — all fighting to get through a blocked Floo. Hermione watched someone throw the powder and cry out for their residence only to be shoved back by another, the flames orange and unresponsive.
Hermione looked to the long corridor to the left that led to the Great Hall, and tugged Draco's arm as she watched two men sprint down it. There was a fireplace there. They raced forward, legs burning, but froze as both men promptly dropped dead across the threshold in a blur of green light. The True Order was lying in wait.
Hermione stumbled backward, her eyes flicking over the room. They were too exposed. She grabbed his arm and dragged him along the back wall of gambling tables, towards the closed doors of the corridor leading to the Burgundy Room. There was a fireplace there.
They were ten feet from the doors when they burst open. Draco turned into her, shoving her back against the wall and angling himself in front of her.
Dolohov and Yaxley stood one second in the doorway to take in the chaos before moving swiftly into offense, engaging a pair of True Order fighters.
Mulciber was close behind. Entering the Lounge with Cho, he looked around at the smoke and spells, the bloody bodies. He pulled his wand, his eyes wide, unsure where to start.
Hermione opened her lips to call out to Cho, to tell her to run with them. But a smile broke on her lips, splitting her face wide and filling her eyes with fire. Her gaze flitted around her, and Hermione saw the moment her eyes landed on an ornamental shield with crossed swords on the wall next to her.
She stared back in shock as Draco tugged her forward, shooting a Stunning Spell somewhere in front of them. Another spell spun from the back corner and she yanked them to the right, watching it just miss Draco's ear as he stumbled.
Cho dodged a curse sailing by, reaching up with nimble fingers and tugging at the coat of arms until a thick sword slid free from its decorative housing with a slice. A yelp escaped Hermione's lips as Cho hauled back and dug the sword through the middle of Mulciber's back. He gurgled a shout, crumpling to the ground.
Draco pulled her down the corridor, and Hermione whipped over her shoulder to watch Cho yank the sword from Mulciber's body with her heeled foot as leverage, before swinging heavily and lodging the old sword into his neck with a scream.
They flew into a small sitting room, and Draco clutched her to his chest as he summoned the Floo powder. He threw the powder in the fireplace and called out for the Manor.
The fire didn't burst. No green flames.
"Shit!" In the blink of an eye, he was seizing her by the elbow and taking her back out the door.
"Wait—!"
An orange light whizzed by Draco's ear, and Hermione screamed before she could stop herself. Someone in dark, scrappy clothes was firing at them.
Draco fought back with non-verbal jinxes, and the attacker fell back.
Stars bloomed behind her eyelids, her mind dizzy and spinning. She had to get him out.
He dragged her down a dark corridor, and through a series of twists and turns. They searched for fireplaces and found three burning in empty rooms, glasses full and cigars still smoking. All blocked.
Hermione's panic grew with every corner they turned. The True Order wouldn't hurt her. But Draco was running on borrowed time.
Another turn. She held her breath, praying the path would end soon — until he turned them into a dead end. And then another.
He was lost.
She tugged him to stop, her chest tight. "The walls are weakest at the windows. If the wards have been penetrated—"
"Get down." He turned abruptly, pointing his wand at a high window on the wall closest to them and yelling, "Bombarda Maxima!"
She ducked into his chest as the rubble flew in different directions. His grip on her loosened, and when she opened her eyes there was moonlight on her feet.
Draco pulled her over the stone pieces and paused, quickly surveying their surroundings. A grassy little hill on the west side of the castle. To their left were the craggy rocks on the cliff face. There was screaming to the right, jets of red light and purple smoke.
Hermione gulped in lungfuls of fresh air, the chill of the spring wind chilling the sweat on her skin.
They crept through the grass, their lungs panting heavily as they ran down the hill. Draco swung back to look behind them every four steps, like clockwork.
As they approached a sharp turn into the courtyard that housed the cannons, Draco slowly rounded the stone wall, jerking his head around the corner before proceeding. Hermione had a momentary flash of him in Switzerland, creeping through the bloody ruins.
Her chest was heavy as she watched him clear the next wall, darting his head around the corner and gesturing her forward. Whereas Ron would blunder headfirst and trust her or Harry to cover him, and Harry would consider two possible outcomes instead of the million more likely ones, Draco was swift and overly cautious, precise and planned.
He'd come back to her as a soldier.
Suddenly he was pressing her back into the shadows, tugging her low and crouching over her. She peered under his arm. Two bodies darted by, running up the hill.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of their hiding place, turning the corner through the gate. A boom shook the ground beneath her feet, and Hermione spun back to look at Edinburgh Castle just as the clocktower fell, crumbling sideways and exploding onto the cobblestones below.
"Malfoy!" a voice called.
She slammed into Draco as he stopped cold, throwing his arm behind him and tucking her back.
It was Warrington, running down the lane adjacent to them. "Ditch your girl! If they see one with you, they'll kill on sight!" He darted past them down the hill, heading for the main gates.
A jet of green light illuminated the darkness — he stumbled, and his lifeless body rolled down the stones. Hermione gasped, her head whipping up to the top of the gate where the Killing Curse had come from. There were distant shadows against the moonlight.
Heavy footsteps hurried from behind them, and Draco tugged them back against the stones again. Two men Hermione didn't recognize raced by, and just as quickly, two bolts of green light shot out from the turret, and the men collapsed.
Draco squeezed her hand numb, breathing harshly.
"We'll never make it out this way," Hermione wheezed. "We have no idea how many of them—"
A Killing Curse whizzed by Draco's elbow, blasting the stones behind her.
"It's Malfoy! I found him!"
Her heart lurched as she grabbed Draco's ducking head, shielding him.
"Tell George! He's out here—"
He cut off with a strangled scream, quickly drowned out by a wet snarl.
Draco wrangled free, and they gaped up at the turret just as a wiry animal lunged over it, scattering the sharpshooters over the other side as it landed hard on the stones.
The air was thick and putrid with rotting blood.
The werewolves.
The screaming turned into garbled gasping as the creature latched onto one of the sharpshooter's throats, ripping into the flesh. Draco clasped his hand over Hermione's mouth, holding them still. She blinked up at the sky, her eyes wide in terror. It was a full moon.
Another werewolf joined the other, sniffing at the dead bodies in the pathway. It slunk closer to the turret and Hermione trembled, squeezing her eyes closed. Then the air erupted. Spells and curses flew from all directions. The creatures howled and turned their snarling jowls toward the new attackers.
Draco scrambled to his feet and yanked her upright by the wrist. "We need to get back inside. There has to be a fucking fireplace." He dragged her in a sharp turn and suddenly they were racing up the steep staircase they climbed every Friday night, leading them back to the castle.
Her legs pumped as she sprinted up the stairs behind him, hurrying while they were still open targets. They passed the mangled and torn body of a True Order member — one the werewolves had already gotten to. They ran past fresh destruction to open a small door. A piercing howl came from behind her as he dragged her in, slamming the door behind her.
She struggled to breathe as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Draco cast a Lumos and she jumped, stumbling backward. Dead bodies. Five of them. Their blood sprayed up the wall onto the royal portraits.
The room hummed with Dark Magic.
Draco stepped over one of them to the fireplace. He summoned the Floo powder and tried to ignite the flames. Nothing.
He held out his hand for her. She extended her shaking fingers, stepping over a man whose eyes were open, and taking his hand. His palm was cold and wet as he tugged her around the perimeter and out of the room.
They tried four other side rooms. Two had fireplaces, but they didn't work. They found four Carrow Girls in the fifth room, shuddering and crying in a corner. Draco quickly dragged her away before she could think how to help.
They turned into a dining room, slightly smaller than the one the Slytherin boys used upstairs. A thick body lay on the floor, blood pooling around his head.
Goyle.
Draco stumbled, losing his footing as he blinked at his old classmate.
Hermione heard a whimper from behind the sideboard. She peered around the table and found Susan Bones clutching a broken champagne glass in one hand, and a steak knife in the other — both dripping with Goyle's blood. Hermione jumped as her wild eyes shot up, locking on hers. Susan pulled her knees to her chest, rocking, closing her eyes and murmuring words Hermione couldn't hear.
Draco seized Hermione's hand, and before she could beg him to help her, they were stumbling out of the room and turning down a familiar narrow corridor just outside of the Great Hall.
The groan of injured bodies rumbled toward them, and Draco pressed flat against the wall, edging slowly through the doorway. He peered around the threshold, sucked a breath, and tugged her through.
Splashes of red crested high on the walls. Bodies everywhere, like mounds of boulders hidden beneath grass, and not a single one moved. The room itself seemed to bleed.
Hermione blinked, focusing only on the pressure of Draco's hand as he dragged her through the chaos. He clenched his jaw, his gaze steeled and empty as they wove through the dead. They walked between the severed halves of a man's torso and Hermione nearly heaved, swallowing back her bile. Another man was missing a head and a leg — a clean slice for each.
An untouched platter of champagne glasses on a lone side table, the bubbles still rising. A platter of cheese and fruit on another, the grapes plump and violently red.
The grand fireplace at the other end of the Great Hall glittered at them, a pile of bodies crumpled around it. Draco tried the Floo regardless. Blocked.
He spun back to her, his eyes flying over the room. "Maybe one of the other sides of the castle is unprotected. Maybe we can pass the Apparition line on the west and—"
A shadow behind him shifted. Her eyes popped as a suit of armor propelled forward. She shoved him to the right and jumped to her left as it bisected them, but before she could blink, Cho Chang was emerging from her hiding spot, swinging the sword at Draco's chest.
"No!"
Her veins crackled as she cried out, and Cho stumbled as if she'd been shoved by an invisible hand. Hermione stared down at her vibrating fingertips, mouth open. Draco skidded backwards, narrowly avoiding the blade, and drew his wand.
"Don't!" she screamed as Cho's blood-splattered arms hefted the sword up, her teeth grit in fierce strength.
Draco ducked her blow, spinning to cast a Disarming Charm. The sword flew from Cho's hands just as the doors to the Lounge burst open. The room roared to life — girls in short dresses and heels screaming and tripping over the bodies. Death Eaters trampling them to get through.
Hermione clambered over the wide chest of the overturned suit of armor and watched as Rabastan grabbed Draco by the scruff of his collar and screamed, "This way, Draco!"
"Get off!" Draco struggled, strangled by his own collar as he was dragged back the way they came. She started after them, but Cho grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall just as a large, hairy creature bounded in through the doors.
Hermione's blood froze. One of the werewolves was inside the castle.
Through the mass of the running hoard, she saw Draco rip free of Rabastan's grip and spin to find a werewolf blocking his path. The terror on his face tore through her heart. He was swept with the current as the beast prowled forward, dragged away from her by Rabastan and the frightened crowd.
A noise shattered down a different corridor to the right, and the werewolf darted after it, freeing Hermione's path. She shoved Cho aside and raced after Draco, but she'd barely made it three steps when a second werewolf crept into the Great Hall. She froze, hardly daring to breathe.
The wolf stared her down and snapped its jaws, dripping with blood and saliva.
It prowled closer, sniffing the air as its paws slipped across the bloodied tiles. Horror spiked through her chest.
Cho grabbed the sword with a clatter and seized her hand, tugging her backwards through the Lounge. Hermione didn't look back as they ran, her legs pumping as fast as her heart as the wolf raced after them, its snarling growing louder in her ears. Her magic hummed violently. She could feel it radiating from her skin as she whipped her head behind and raised her arm, shoving the energy through her fingertips with everything she had.
Then it started. The corridor began crumbling in their wake, dragging down ancient stone and artifacts and burying the wolf's howls.
They burst into the Lounge, empty except for the dead and their separated body parts. Several feminine arms lay ownerless, blood seeping into the carpets. Cho sprinted with her, darting through the chaos. Her hand was slick with blood and sweat.
Adrenaline was still surging through her veins, but her mind was returning to her. She needed to get back to Draco. She had to get him out—
She dug her heels in as Cho took her through the doorway that led to the long corridor with the Burgundy Room at the end.
Cho pulled harder, tugging her into an unused dining room and slamming the door behind them.
"We have to go back—"
"They'll come again," Cho said breathlessly. "They'll come back for you."
"We have to—" Hermione broke off, trying to make sense of her. "What?"
"You just need to stay in one place. The Order will find you."
"Why?" She staggered, her muscles protesting. "Why are they here for me?"
Cho paced around the room, searching for weapons. "You're the closest thing we have to Harry. If anyone knows Voldemort's weaknesses, it's you."
She reached for the glass vase on the table and smashed it against the wall. Hermione flinched backward as the shards flew, and when she looked back at Cho, she was retrieving the largest piece and handing it to her.
"Take this," Cho said. "When the Order finds you, go with them."
She hobbled for the door, and Hermione saw that there was a chunk taken out of her shoulder and an odd bend to her right knee.
"Where are you going?"
She turned to Hermione, and there was a gash running down her temple that she hadn't noticed before.
"I'm going to go kill Malfoy. If I'm successful, I'll leave his body in plain sight so the Order knows it's safe to take you out."
Hermione felt her legs sway. Her blood went still in her veins. Her mind swam through the reasons she could give to stop her.
"Malfoy doesn't have to be dead. It's just cutting off the arm. I've been studying the tattoos, and—"
"Studying them?" Cho's brows drew together. "Hermione, Angelina escaped by killing Macnair and cutting off her arm. They won't take any chances."
Cho turned to the door.
"You can't go out alone." Hermione's voice shook. "The Death Eaters — Cho, the werewolves. They're out of control—"
"I can take care of myself."
Cho's voice was cold.
Hermione looked at her — really looked at her. Her dress was drenched in blood. Her face speckled in it. Her sword dripping a fresh burgundy.
She felt a chill race down her spine.
"You should wait here with me." Hermione's voice croaked. "The Order can find us both and get us out."
Cho blinked at her. "That's not my mission, Hermione."
A splinter of wood from several doors away. Hermione jumped. The rumble of voices.
"Get under the table." Cho flipped her sword over her wrist, taking a defensive stance.
"We should both hide—"
"Get under the table," she hissed, the sound dark and coiling. Cho's eyes were black and intent.
The room next to theirs was forcibly entered, the door blasted open. Hermione listened to the wood bounce against the adjoining wall.
She looked down to the shard of glass cutting into her shaking palm. It wasn't a sword, but it was good enough for Susan Bones. She ducked and pulled the tablecloth to cover her just as the door to their room was kicked open.
The clang of the sword hitting the stone wall with Cho's first swing—
"The bitch is here!"
— Cho's grunts and the sizzling jets of magic —
"Expelliarmus," from a second voice.
Hermione froze as the sword thumped down heavy, several feet from the other side of the tablecloth. She could see its shadow. She slid closer on her belly, fingers stretching, concentrating on summoning it to her—
"You little cunt," Dolohov growled, and Hermione felt the magic die from her fingertips. Her blood curded in her veins, the hand reaching for the sword snapping to her side. "Almost took a chunk out of my face earlier."
"I watched her kill Mulciber," the other voice said. "Like she knew exactly what to do."
Dolohov's heavy boots thumped as he moved around the table. Hermione turned her head and followed the shadow of him, terror slicing her insides with each step. The tablecloth was just a sliver high enough that she could see Cho's feet hovering in the air, magically pinned against the stone wall.
Her legs scrambled as he got closer.
"You like playing with swords, love? How about we play a bit with that sword. I've got a couple of ideas about where to put it."
The sound of Cho spitting. The crack of Dolohov's knuckles across her face. Hermione reached out her fingers desperately, struggling to breathe. The sword began rattling softly—
"Take her," he ordered the other Death Eater. "We'll have a Legilimens take a look before we have our fun."
The heavy handle dragged across the wood.
"What's she got in her mouth?"
The sword froze. Her stomach twisted violently as the sound of choking filled the air, before being drowned out by the stumble of boots and harsh curses.
And then Cho Chang's body dropped in a tangle of limbs. Her eyes were open and staring vacantly at Hermione. White foam dripped from her mouth.
Every inch of her shook. The pill.
"Fucking bitch—" Dolohov chucked a chair across the room, and Hermione flinched as it collided with the wall, splintering. Several sharp breaths, and the kick of another chair. "We need to find Charlotte. The whores are in on it."
She listened to him stomp out of the room, calling for the other Death Eater to follow.
The door shut behind them.
Hermione lay curled under the table, her lungs seizing as she stared at Cho Chang's lifeless eyes.
There was an expression on her face. A smirk behind the foam. Like she'd beaten Harry to the Snitch finally.
That's not my mission, Hermione.
Her mind flickered through the pain, wondering what her mission was.
Hermione swallowed, and pushed herself to sit. Her body was cold and shaking. Her bones felt brittle.
The door blasted open again in the room next to hers, the wood bouncing off the adjoining wall.
She dragged herself from under the table, standing on unsteady legs and pushing down the bile in her throat.
Staring down the door, Hermione grabbed the fallen sword, gritting her jaw as she tested its weight between her hands.
Her chest was numb, her face wet. She heaved the sword up and waited for the door to open.
The door blasted off his hinges, and before the smoke had cleared, Draco was in the room, wand drawn, scratches down his face and cutting open his robes.
A cry ripped from her throat, her body sagging in relief. The sword fell from her hands as she flew into his arms, clutching his face, his shoulders.
"Are you alright?" His voice shook as he held her to him, his touch as frantic as hers.
"Were you bitten?"
"Just banged up." He pushed her hair back as he tilted her jaw, searching for bruises or cuts. "You're fine?"
"Draco, we have to get you out — we have to" — her words tripped over her tongue — "They think the only way to extract me is to kill you, so we have to go — we have to find a way—"
"I've checked every fireplace on the way here. Let's keep going."
She nodded and bit back a sob at seeing him alive, curling her fingers in the torn material of his shirt. He took her wrists and kissed her knuckles, just as he had before leaving for Switzerland.
He glanced over her shoulder and his gaze flickered. "What happened to Chang?"
"She took her suicide pill." Her shoulders trembled. "She — she knew they were coming tonight."
He brushed a tear from her cheek that she didn't know was there, and took her hand in his before glancing out the doorway in both directions.
They ran down the corridor, and her shoes sounded too loud as they slapped against stones. She counted her heartbeats until they rounded the corner, darting past the entrance to the Burgundy Room after a pause. Her pulse quickened at the sounds of yelling in the distance. The vibrations of small explosions through her feet.
The new corridor was a Muggle hall of portraits, long and narrow.
A pair of doors to their right banged open, and a man flew through just in front of them, slamming into the opposite wall with a sickening crack. Jets of light and spells lit up the open room in a blaze of smoke and color. Screaming pierced her ears. They raced past the doorway, leaving its occupants to their battles.
From down the corridor, a repetitive screaming met her ears, like someone had wound an alarm too tightly. A girl was crying out.
"Get off! Get off me!"
Hermione's chest seized, and she squeezed Draco's hand. They had to help her.
He looked down at her, and she swore he almost rolled his eyes before he tipped his head in a nod.
They turned a corner, following the screaming, and found Blaise dragging Giuliana Bravieri's thrashing body into an alcove. Her pale slip was stained dark red, her hair matted with thick blood.
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO BACK!"
Blaise caught her around her middle and hefted her up, one arm holding her shoulders to him. He caught sight of them and his eyes widened.
"Draco! Thank Merlin."
"What happened to her?" Draco's voice was low as he dragged Hermione over. Blaise jerked his head as a couple of men ran by, and clapped his hand over Pansy's mouth as she thrashed.
"Quiet the fuck down!" Blaise's face was pale as he struggled for his wand.
Draco cast a Silencing Charm with a quick flick of his wand, and Giuliana Bravieri's face reddened as she silently screamed.
"Where is she hurt?" Hermione whispered, tugging her elbow free. "She's bleeding out!"
"It's not her blood," Blaise said.
A chill raced down her spine. She turned to look into Pansy's feral eyes, finding the same fire she'd seen in Cho's just before she lodged a blade in Mulciber's back.
"Theo found a fireplace. The only one operating is in the dungeons. Back entrance, first room. That way." Blaise jerked his head in the other direction.
Draco glanced between them, his jaw tight. "Let's go then."
Pansy renewed her struggles, and Blaise twisted his wrist, casting a Stunning Spell on her. She went limp in his arms.
"She has to calm down first. No one can see her like this."
Draco stepped forward. "We can levitate her. I'll keep an eye out—"
Blaise shook his head. "They'll think she tried to run. I'll take care of it, but Draco — get out now." His eyes were as wild as Pansy's. His gaze shifted to Hermione. "They're looking for her. And you. I heard them."
Blood rushed in Hermione's ears. She grabbed Draco's elbow and tugged him in the direction Blaise had pointed. But he wouldn't budge.
He stared down at Blaise, waiting for something. Blaise nodded, and after a heartbeat, Draco turned with her and ran.
Twenty paces down the corridor, following a slick river of red, they found Pansy's father's body — a shattered champagne glass next to him. She could make out several places in his chest where he'd been punctured, the blood blossoming slowly.
She didn't even slow down.
They flew down the narrow and winding stairs. Every now and then he'd freeze, panting quietly as he listened for noises. Then they'd begin racing again, the ceiling so low Draco had to duck his head. The staircase finally poured them into a small chamber with just a few stools and a table. No fireplace. Draco strode to the open doorway, peering around the corner before pulling her inside. A fireplace burned low in the darkness. The room was empty, apart from handfuls of Floo powder scattered on the floor.
Draco ran to the jar on the mantle and tossed the powder. The fireplace roared to life. Hermione blinked, dazed. Draco was safe. She could get him out, but she had to stay. The Order needed her. She'd ask him to wait at the Manor and promise she'd come back for him.
He covered her tattoo with his hand and stepped toward the fireplace. Her feet dragged—
A shadow moved in the corner.
Draco jerked around, spinning in front of her as Viktor Krum emerged from the darkness, his wand trained on Draco.
Hermione gasped. Her legs moved without permission as she ducked under Draco's arm and stepped in front of him.
"Granger—!"
"Viktor, wait!"
Their voices drowned each other out, ricocheting off the walls. And then silence, apart from the popping of the fire.
Viktor took a step forward, his eyes flickering between them. "Herminny, I am come to save you."
"I know," she said quickly, her heart pounding. "Cho told me."
His chin dipped in a quick nod. Then his eyes slid to Draco again. "Get out of the vay."
"You don't have to kill him." Hermione stood tall, lifting her chin. "You just need to cut off my arm."
"You vill Splinch. Ve must be thorough."
"Viktor—"
"Move, Herminny."
"No!" Her voice rang out against the stones. Viktor blinked, as if seeing her for the first time. "Trust me. The Order is wrong. You won't have to kill him."
Something flitted across his face as he studied her. "Ve can try." He looked at Draco, brandishing his wand. "Release her, and I von't kill you."
Hermione's throat was dry. Draco was silent behind her, his wand extended and just visible from the corner of her eye.
She sucked in a breath, ready to rationalize with him. The Order was here for her, and he had to return to the Manor—
Draco's wand shook once, and lowered.
Viktor's brow furrowed.
The doors banged open. Draco grabbed Hermione around the waist, spinning her away from the blur of spells.
His grip loosened, and she writhed to find Yaxley and Rookwood in the room. Her heart jumped to her throat as Viktor raised his hands slowly in defense. Disarmed.
"Draco," said Yaxley coolly, staring at Viktor as he pocketed his wand. "I was wondering if you'd gotten out."
"It's over," Rookwood spat at Viktor. His forehead was crusted with blood. "All your little friends are gone."
Yaxley took a step forward, cocking his head. "We're going to paint the walls with your blood tonight, Krum."
Hermione's heart was in her throat as Viktor's eyes darted to hers, his lips parting. "Accio," he whispered.
A button shot up from his pocket and into his fingertips, and he was gone.
The wall exploded from Rookwood's killing curse.
"Fuck!"
The ground shook beneath Hermione's feet as he shot another, and another. She stumbled as Draco yanked her away from the eruption of debris.
"That's enough!"
The explosions stopped, and Hermione peered around Draco's elbow to see Rookwood crouched on his knees, breathing deep.
Yaxley dragged a hand down his face. "These fucking Portkeys."
Hermione's ears were ringing, her skin vibrating, trying to get her mind to catch up. Draco grabbed her arm and stepped forward.
"This is the only working fireplace in the castle," he said coldly.
Yaxley glared at Rookwood, who pushed off his knees and began vanishing the rock. He turned back to Draco. "Take your bitch home and come back immediately. We need to round up the werewolves, and then we have to interrogate them."
"The werewolves?"
"These fucking Carrow Girls. They know something, that's for sure. We're collecting them in the cells for a Legilimens. I've summoned your father from Switzerland."
"I'd wager Chang was the real conspirator," Draco said swiftly. "I saw her kill Mulciber and Parkinson, and I'm sure there were others. She's dead now."
Hermione hardly had a second for her blood to run cold before someone was coming through the hallway, dragging a girl behind them. It was Rabastan Lestrange. He had Charlotte by the hair. He paused in the doorway, taking them in.
Tears streaked Charlotte's face. "Please, I don't know anything, I swear it—"
Hermione swayed on her feet, the room spinning. Draco's hand tightened on her elbow.
Rabastan turned back to Charlotte with a sneer. "Think I'm stupid, do you? You have your hand in every jar, sweetheart."
"Put her in the second to last cell," said Yaxley. "She should be interrogated alone."
Charlotte's eyes were wild as she begged, scrabbling at Rabastan's arm as he dragged her away.
She didn't have her pill. Or else she'd already be dead.
Hermione stared at the floor to keep from fainting.
"Start in the east wing and go to the courtyard when you've finished searching," said Yaxley to Draco. "Tally the dead you come across."
He nodded, and Yaxley and Rookwood left, following Rabastan. The door shut behind them as Draco wrapped his fingers around her tattoo and called out, "Malfoy Manor," into the fire.
His room looked smaller. The walls were tighter, darker. The wallpaper seemed to mock her.
His hands were on her waist, her face, her shoulders, but she was too cold.
Something was clawing its way out of her throat, scratching with talons up from her belly—
She was shaking, vomiting. Heaving, curled over.
When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the horror on Charlotte's face.
If I get this to Charlotte, Ginny will know within a few weeks.
All I do is get whispers and notes to Charlotte. The rest is in her hands.
She knew too much. She knew everything. And even Cho, who couldn't possibly have access to as much information, knew she needed to die before being interrogated.
The things that Charlotte knew could lead the Death Eaters straight to the True Order — to Ginny. However she got her information out, whoever was working both sides for her.
Fiendfyre, Basilisk Venom, Sword of Gryffindor.
Charlotte had gotten the keys to killing Voldemort to Ginny.
She'd failed Harry and Ron again. The True Order would have to start from scratch, crippled and bleeding. If Charlotte's information got out—
There was a gasping sound from somewhere. A girl was sobbing.
Hermione could only see Cho's dead eyes, the mutilated bodies, and Susan Bones's bloody face.
A girl was sobbing.
Look at me.
Was it Charlotte?
"Look at me."
Hermione's mind bent over backwards and somersaulted down. She was sitting on the floor of Draco's bedroom, sobbing and gasping.
His hands were on her face.
"Look at me."
Her mouth tasted like burnt flesh.
Her eyes focused, her mind slowed.
A lake with still waters.
A boy brushed a curl away from her eyes. His shirt was torn with claw marks.
"What do you need?" he asked. "Tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you."
She blinked once, and found Draco holding her, his long fingers tracing her jaw.
"I need you to get Charlotte out," she whispered, her voice thick and raw.
He didn't move. He brushed a thumb through the tracks of her tears.
"I can't remove her. Her tattoo. The suspicion—"
"Obliviate her."
"There's no time to search her mind." He searched her eyes. "I'd have to destroy half her memories. They'd know her mind was tampered with."
A stone dropped in her chest. The room spun as she searched for an impossible solution, and then ground to a halt. "Then kill her."
She heard her own voice come as an echo, bouncing through time and space to join her on Draco's bedroom floor.
"Make it look like the same pill that killed Cho."
She felt the splinter of her soul crack off and drift away, as if she herself had been the one to cast the Killing Curse.
Draco's eyes flickered.
"She knows everything about the Order," she whispered. "And she knows about me. She knows I was passing notes to Ginny."
He blinked once, and stood. Moving to the fireplace, he called out for the dungeons at Edinburgh Castle, and she caught the hard set of his jaw before the green flames engulfed him and took him away.
She was alone. The clock on the mantle ticked.
Sitting, catching her breath, Hermione stared at his carpets and let her mind work its way back to her.
Kill one, save dozens. Hundreds, possibly. If Charlotte lived, her network would be obliterated like slicing strings on a marionette.
Dragging herself to her feet, she went to his bathroom to wash the stale taste out of her mouth.
She jumped at her reflection. Blood on her face that wasn't hers. Dust in her hair and streaks down her cheeks.
And her eyes were dull. Almost as dead as Cho's.
She rinsed with the mouthwash on the counter and wet a cloth. She washed the dirt and blood off her hands and face, watching it swirl down the drain in streaks of brownish red. Her arms and legs next.
She thought of George's eyes, intent on her. Cho's insistence that they'd come back for her. Viktor, his arm steady and mouth hard as he emerged from the shadows.
Whatever their aim was tonight, extracting her was part of it. She hadn't linked up with the True Order, but she'd gotten Draco out alive.
And then she'd sent him back there.
Hermione blinked at her reflection, her skin rubbed raw now.
What if there were more True Order members left at Edinburgh, looking for him?
What if he was caught killing Charlotte?
She gasped, her fractured voice bouncing around the marble tiles. Her Occlumency shelves trembled and tumbled down to the ground.
Charlotte was going to die. And perhaps she'd sent Draco to his doom as well.
She braced herself on the counter, forcing herself to breathe.
What if he didn't come back now? After they'd gone through hell together?
The room spun. The candles flickered. Her eyes slid closed, and she tried to focus on a lake hidden between mountains as her tears slipped to the tile.
A noise came from the bedroom. Her head jerked up, and she whipped around.
Draco was back—
She ran out, and found Lucius — his eyes wild and his hair falling out of its binding.
"Where is he."
Her breath rattled in her chest. "He's fine. He's alive—"
"Where is he," he hissed, stalking closer to her.
Her mouth opened and closed, words caught behind her teeth.
"They called him back to Edinburgh. He br-brought me back and then left—"
"He hasn't checked in."
"He just left. Maybe they just haven't seen him yet—"
Lucius Malfoy stepped into her, grabbed her by the jaw, and held her against the wall as he raised his wand and hissed, "Legilimens!"
A smooth knife sliced through her eyes. She panicked, shutting books and locking them away, but Lucius was vicious.
He swept through her library, slicing through the bookshelves and flipping through the pages of a shelf of books on Draco Malfoy.
She wasn't prepared. She hadn't centered herself or hidden anything away. He cut through her memories of the night—
Smoke and spells, the werewolves. Cho lifeless on the ground. Draco pulling her through the corridors, tucking her behind him.
He skated from Viktor to Charlotte's wild eyes to Draco clutching her face on the bedroom floor.
"She knows about me. She knows I was passing notes to Ginny."
"I can't remove her. Her tattoo. The suspicion—"
"Then kill her."
Draco sweeping to the fireplace.
She fought, trying to kick him out, trying to close Charlotte's book before he looked too close—
"Did you just send him into a trap?" His eyes blazed into her, his fingers gripping her so tightly she cried out.
"No!" Her heart thumped in its cage. "I would never—"
Snarling, he sliced through her mind again.
His grey eyes locked on hers as a waltz played — his hand lifting as they spun around each other.
Blinking through her lashes at the long, pale fingers gripping a quill across the room, taking careful notes.
Her mother's arms around her, laughing in the kitchen — "His hair is so beautiful, Mum."
Ginny quirking her brow, sitting cross-legged on her bed at the Burrow — Christmas lights twinkling behind her head—
"Malfoy's looking fit lately, isn't he?"
Hermione's fingers trembling as she smeared ink across her schoolwork — "I—I hardly noticed."
Hermione shook as she tried to summon her energy, to push him out — and he sliced further inside.
At the Manor, laying on his pillow and burying her nose in his scent.
Rolling onto her toes, reaching up to kiss him as the pages of a Gainsworth manuscript crinkled in her fingers.
Then he was releasing her, his mind withdrawing from hers and his fingers disappearing from her chin.
She fell, sliding down the wall, her mind trying to repair itself.
"You stupid girl," he whispered.
She panted, righting herself and struggling to stand again.
"If you love him, stop trying to get him killed."
Her lip trembled violently. She bit down on it.
He loomed over her, pouring venom into her eyes. "If he dies tonight, I'll hand you off to Dolohov myself."
Sweeping back from her, he paced to the fireplace and called out for Edinburgh.
When she could breathe again, the air was cold and biting. Her lungs felt as if they'd frozen solid, unable to move.
That wasn't — she didn't—
He couldn't die.
Panic swelled in her chest. A sob tore from her throat as she pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to center herself. Deep breaths, one after another, Occluding.
She found her lake with still waters. The water was frozen, and there was snow on the trees.
Her books mended themselves slowly, their covers gluing back together and their pages pressing flat again.
The events of the evening took a volume for themselves. She folded in the pages of Cho Chang's lifeless body, her foamed lips curved in a smile. The werewolf that lunged at Draco, the crowd tearing them apart. Charlotte's terrified eyes as she pleaded with Rabastan. She bound them together and slipped the book onto a shelf until it disappeared, determined to lose it.
The pages of Ginny's book and Ron's book and Harry's book that had shook themselves free were once again sewn shut.
When she considered herself finished, she checked the clock on the mantle.
Half-past three in the morning.
Draco had been gone for almost an hour. If he didn't return—
She shut down those thoughts. She buried them.
She stood and moved around the room, working her tired legs and focusing on her breath. She was barefoot, tracing the outline of the room, placing one foot in front of the other and counting how many footsteps in circumference the bedroom was.
The fireplace blazed.
She spun from her position at the windows to find Draco stepping out into the bedroom, eyes searching for her. Her chest cracked in two as she ran to him.
A split second to catch the relief on his face before she tumbled into him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered as he held her, drinking in the steady thud of his heartbeat. The warmth of his skin.
He was alive.
"It's done." His voice rumbled into her chest.
She flinched, remembering. He'd killed for her. He'd risked his own life to take another. Her stomach twisted in guilt.
"Did anyone see you."
He shook his head. "They were distracted by rounding up the werewolves."
Hermione licked her lips. "Your—your father knows. He came to my room. I tried to stop him, but…"
"I know." Draco brushed a curl behind her ear. "He found me in the dungeons. We Obliviated the rest of the Carrow Girls."
Her eyes shot open. The Carrow Girls. She hadn't even thought about them—
"He…?"
"Yes." A long pause. "He's not happy with us."
She took a shuddering breath. "Draco, I'm—" Her voice broke. "I'm sorry I asked this of you. I wish there was another way, but they would have found all of us out—"
"Granger—"
"You're sure no one saw you?" Her grip tightened. "What did you do with the body?"
"There wasn't one." He pulled back and plucked a vial from his robes. She stared at the shimmering contents, her brows furrowed in confusion.
"Charlotte's memories. She gave them to me before I removed them."
Hermione's lips tried to form words. "She's not — you mean she's alive?"
Draco nodded. He turned and set the vial of memories on the mantle.
Her knees felt unsteady beneath her. "You kept them. You saved all her memories—"
"Just the ones of her work with the Order. She was able to bring them forward without magic." His throat bobbed as she stared at him. "I'm not sure if they can be returned. I'll work on finding a Pensieve, but for now, it's done."
He looked exhausted, but his eyes were focused. He smelled like blood and sweat.
She studied his scratches and blood-speckled arms, and he seemed to notice. He cast a quick Tergeo over himself and tossed his wand aside.
He was alive. He'd come home to her.
Her lip trembled.
She stepped into him, threading her fingers into the hair behind his ears. Watching his eyes darken as she pushed up on her toes, slanting her lips over his and pouring her desperation into him.
It felt like it had been years since they'd last kissed. Her veins sparked with each movement, her blood thrumming to life. She needed more.
His hands brushed softly on her waist as her lips grew more demanding, and she slung her arms over his shoulders, holding him tightly to her. She wouldn't let him go this time. Not without telling him—
He gasped into her mouth, and she pressed forward, tangling her tongue with his. A hand came up to hold her face steady as he took control of the kiss, and she moaned.
He was soft — delicate with her. She pushed her chest into his, begging him to be alive with her.
"More." Her fingers dug into his skin. Please."
He breathed across her face. "We should go slow—"
"I don't want to."
His eyes fluttered up to hers. A beautiful shade of grey — almost blue.
"Draco—" She swallowed, trying to tell him what it would have done to her — if he hadn't come home again. "I missed you, too."
And those eyes flickered. He brought his lips to hers again, and this time he conquered her, dragging her into the fire with him.
His fingers dug into her hair, the other hand slipping down for a handful of her backside. His tongue pushed firmly against hers, swallowing her small moans and mewls as he tilted her head just the way he wanted her.
His lips trailed over her jaw, teeth scraping and tongue laving. He kissed her just below her ear, and she listened to her breath pant loudly over the sound of the crackling fireplace.
He nipped her sensitive skin, and she gasped, pulling at his hair. The hand on her arse smoothed over her hip, tugging up the short dress and inching towards her core.
He ran his fingers over her knickers, and she sighed his name, rocking into his hand. He growled at her throat and swiftly picked her up, her legs crossing around his hips and her arms wrapped around his shoulders.
They stumbled backward as he returned to her mouth, kissing her dizzy. She felt like she was floating when he pulled back, whispering, "You'll tell me when to stop?"
She blinked out of her haze, and met his eyes. They were black. She nodded, and Draco set her down on the bed.
He tugged at her dress and it shivered off of her, her hair tumbling over her shoulders as he threw her dress across the room. Bending to kiss her while she sat on the edge, his hands took her cheeks, brushing his tongue over hers. A fire curled low in her belly, heating her skin and sizzling her veins.
His hands trailed down her neck, rounding her breasts with a slight squeeze through her bra. She shifted to sit up on her knees as she unclasped her bra, flinging it across the room and reaching for him.
She wouldn't let him slip through her grasp again.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, almost his height while she kneeled on the bed. Winding his arms around her waist, he held her tight to him and kissed her so fiercely she could hardly breathe.
His hands started wandering. And when both palms had a handful of her backside — kneading and inching her knickers to the side — she lolled her head back and let him kiss down her throat. One long finger stroked over her soaked entrance and she keened. His mouth trailed down and caught her breast between his lips as his fingers slipped slowly inside of her.
Her hands were on his shoulders, nails digging into his torn shirt, her eyes squeezed closed and her lips parted and panting. He hummed with her nipple in his mouth, and her toes curled.
"Draco…"
He released her breast and stood tall again, his fingers starting shallow movements inside of her as his mouth claimed hers. His free hand nudged her knees wider, and he slipped further inside of her.
She moaned as he kissed her, clutching him as he played her like an instrument. She felt herself growing wetter with each pull of his lips and drag of his palm over her side.
His hand came up to cover her breast, and she panted into his shoulder as his thumb brushed softly over her nipple.
"Feel good?"
She trembled at the vibration of his chest. The pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. She needed all of him.
"More…"
A sharp inhale of breath as he withdrew his finger and helped her slide her knickers down her thighs. She tried to kick them off the rest of the way, but his hand was already back at her core, slipping over her from the front this time. She whimpered and arched her chest into his hand, begging him to keep touching her.
Two fingers slid through her folds, dragging through the wetness and swirling up to her clit. He plucked her nipple with rough fingers and she gasped, dragging her nails over his chest.
Her eyes drifted open and caught on the shredded front of his shirt. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons. She kissed across his sternum, tracing her lips over the shallow scratch marks.
Dittany. He needed dittany or else he would scar.
He didn't need any more scars.
She opened her mouth to tell him, and he chose that moment to press down on her clit.
Her hips jumped, and she sighed into his chest. His other fingers tweaked her nipple, and she felt her thighs tremble.
She moved swiftly over the rest of his buttons, needing to see him — needing proof he was alive, that he wasn't going anywhere. Needing to make him burn as brightly as she was burning.
Her hands dropped to his belt, and a ragged exhale poured from his throat into her hair.
The hand on her breast lifted to her face, and he met her lips as he rubbed her clit. She moaned into his mouth, leaning into him and quickly unbuttoning his trousers. His tongue tangled with hers as her fingers dipped into his boxers and wrapped around him.
She pulled back, blinking down at him as she tried to remember what he taught her all those months ago. Her lips parted, and she held his gaze as she licked her palm and wrapped her fist around him again.
He moaned, his head dropping against her shoulder this time. Her fingers moved over him, trying to twist at the end like he'd shown her, repeating the motion when he hissed through his teeth.
"Fuck."
His hands lifted from her body and grabbed her under the arms. She flew through the air as he tossed her back on the mattress, her head landing on the pillows with a bounce. She curled up to her elbows as he kicked off his boots and his trousers, leaving his boxers on.
He paused at the edge of the bed. "You'll tell me when to stop?"
Don't stop.
She nodded.
He crawled up the mattress, dropping kisses on her skin — her calf, her knee, her thigh. His eyes skated up to her face as he hovered over her core. She bit her lip and shook her head.
"One day," he whispered as his fingers drifted through her folds, running up to her clit, "One day, I'll kiss you here until your legs shake."
Her nipples tightened and her teeth dug into her bottom lip.
She held her breath as he began rubbing her clit with long fingers, his face still focused between her thighs. Frowning, she tugged at his hair, but he stayed with her lower body. His free hand slid down her leg, encouraging her knee to bend open so he could watch his fingers work.
Her cheeks flamed. She could feel his breath ghosting across her sex as his palm rubbed her leg, coaxing her to relax.
"Draco…" She tried to reach for him again, but he nipped her inner thigh.
She pressed her hands to her face as he continued, his fingers working her clit slowly, his lips dipping to kiss the juncture of her hip.
She should make him stop. This wasn't— she didn't—
Then his fingers circled her entrance, and her mind blanked. She bit back a moan and her hips started moving of their own accord, chasing him.
She dropped her hands from her face, fisting them in the comforter as he started sucking on her thigh, marking her skin as his. She was dizzy with the pressure of it, losing herself with each tease of his fingers.
He lifted his head just as he began to press a finger inside of her, slow and steady. She strained her neck to look at him. He was going too slow—
"Dreamt of this," he breathed. "Watching you take me inside."
Her head fell back into the pillow, her toes curling and lips pressed together as she whined.
He withdrew, and pressed back in. "Didn't get to savor it last time."
Her thighs started to quiver. This was too much. He sounded like he could do this forever, but she was squirming, aching—
He seemed to read her, reaching up to rub her clit. She shifted her hips, arching her back and mewling nonsense to his canopy.
"That's it, Granger."
He pushed one of her legs open wider, and she shuddered at the stretch. She gasped when he kissed her just below her bellybutton.
"Just a little more," he hummed, and her eyes pinched closed
Her knees curled up to her chest as her pleasure spiraled closer. His finger slid deeper inside of her, dragging along her walls and increasing pace until it matched the jerking of her hips.
"Draco, please—"
A low curse as he pressed harder on her clit, rubbing tight circles. She thrashed, coiling in on herself, turning tighter and tighter—
The cord snapped, her eyes fluttering and fingers twisting in the sheets. She heard herself moan and whine as her hips struggled to continue, to keep him inside of her.
When the white light faded behind her eyelids, she opened her gaze to his canopy bed. The green curtains stared down at her as Draco continued to pump his finger slowly.
She tilted her head down and found him watching her face. She flushed.
He kissed her hipbone, his eyes dark as he withdrew his hands. He slithered up her body and pressed kisses to her breasts, collarbones, and cheeks.
She slid her hands over his back, digging her fingers into the muscles there. He buried his face into her neck, and her belly swooped when she felt his erection against her hip. The need for more bubbled through her, spreading like slow-burning fire.
"You must be exhausted." His voice was ragged, like he'd just come from a run.
She frowned at his canopy. She was wide awake.
She was alive. They both were.
"I'm not tired," she whispered. She wiggled beneath him, coaxing him to lift his hips. Her hands trailed down his stomach, and she felt him take a shuddering breath.
"Granger—"
She paused at his boxers, waiting. He sighed and jerked a nod into her shoulder, and she reached inside. She shifted her hips as she began stroking him, making space for him on top of her.
He breathed tightly into her neck. He wasn't being very helpful. She couldn't get a good handle on him, so to speak, and she could only move her wrist so far. But his hips jumped when she pumped him, and she felt him thrust into her hand when she stilled.
Hermione pushed against his shoulder with all her strength, flipping him on his back. She crawled over to sit astride him and watched his eyes flicker, his ribs expanding as he slid his hands on her hips.
"Learning new tricks?" he rasped.
"Maybe." She shifted until she managed to pull him out of his boxers. "Maybe I've been dreaming things, too."
Draco threw an arm over his eyes and pounded his other fist against the mattress.
She straddled his thighs as she fisted him, drawing her hand up and twisting at the top like he liked. Staring down at him, she wondered why he didn't use two fingers inside her.
Her thumb brushed over the top of him, and his muscles tensed.
She kept rubbing softly as she drank him in.
His pale skin was mottled with thick scars — some old, some new — his chest and stomach toned, rippling beneath her attention. He was stunning, and she needed him. If they didn't tonight, she might not have another chance.
Perhaps he'd be called away. Or Lucius would send her away. Maybe they'd be discovered and murdered in their beds before dawn.
But she could have this with him. At least once.
"Draco," she whispered.
His lips parted in a sigh as she squeezed and dragged her hand down over him again.
"Draco." Her heart beat wildly in its cage. "I'm ready."
His eyes blinked blearily open. "What?"
"For…everything."
She blushed.
"What?"
His cock twitched in her hand, and she jumped.
Her ears burned as she swallowed, gripping him tightly. "I want all of you."
He sat up on his elbows and took her hand off of him. "...What?"
She leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue sweeping sweetly into his mouth before she pulled away. "I'm ready. If you are."
His eyes were bottomless as he stared at her, his mouth open. His throat bobbed.
"Granger, you're not thinking straight—"
"I am," she breathed against his forehead. "I'm tired of waiting for you to come home."
His pupils were black as his eyes flickered between hers.
She held still. "Should I stop?"
An almost imperceptible shake of his head, and her stomach fluttered. She shifted her hips, positioning her core against him.
His eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the bed. "Oh, fuck."
After a few tries, she finally slotted him to her entrance. She watched Draco's stomach muscles tighten as he clawed his face, breathing heavily.
He was barely inside when he grabbed her hips and flipped her on her back, capturing her squeak with his lips.
He kissed her deeply as he pinned her beneath him, stealing her air. His free hand roved her body, teasing her until she gasped. He was so close, the tip of him pressing against her core.
But he didn't push forward. She opened her thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Please," she whispered.
He shivered.
He kicked off his boxers, and Hermione felt her pulse flutter.
He placed a hand on her jaw and kissed her soundly, sliding between her legs. He was thick and warm against her core, but still he hesitated.
"I don't…" He swallowed, and brought his eyes up to meet hers. "I don't want to take anything else away from you."
Her blood was warm in her veins, tripping through her heart. Her eyes searched his as he started to shake with the effort to hold back. She felt something tight in her throat, some unvoiced words that had been lodged there for years, struggling to break out.
"I want it to be you," she said instead.
Draco seemed to grow dizzy with the words. He lowered his forehead to hers and gripped himself, circling her entrance.
She struggled to catch her breath as he pressed forward. She thought of the light in the jar on her bedside table, and how little it meant to her now, with Draco pushing his way inside of her.
Her hands scrambled to his shoulders as he stretched her open. Her knees locked to his sides, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
She opened her mouth to tell him to stop — to try again — he'd done it wrong.
But his eyes were fluttering closed, his lips parted in silent pleasure. She focused on his breath as he panted over her, his elbows on either side of her head. And as the pinch faded to an ache inside of her, he released a low groan that sounded like a lifetime of agony fading from his soul.
His head dropped to her neck, and his hand slithered under her back to press her close to him as he withdrew and pressed back inside.
She stared up at his canopy, trying not to squirm at the pressure. So she focused on the way he moaned on every breath. The tension in her spine that lessened each time he eased himself back in.
So this… was sex.
She pressed her lips together as he tugged her closer to him, lying heavy on top of her.
It was alright, she supposed.
And Draco certainly seemed to like it.
His hips shifted, beginning to roll into hers faster.
Her eyes widened. That might… be nice.
He groaned into her ear, his face buried in her neck and hair. "Fuck…Oh, fuck."
Something curled deep in her belly, and she shifted.
He stilled with a heavy breath, and pulled back to look down on her. "Okay?" His voice was shaking, his face pink with exertion.
She nodded, mesmerized by the hair falling across his face. She ran her fingers through it and he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply as he started to move again.
It was better now. She could focus on the way it felt for him to drag across her walls.
His mouth was heavy against hers as he pumped into her. She threaded her fingers in his hair and angled his head, taking control of the kiss. His lips pressed against hers, occasionally pausing, as if he forgot himself. His kisses grew sloppier the faster his hips moved.
He began groaning into her mouth, panting on every thrust.
He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes skating over her breasts to watch them bounce with each roll of his hips. His breath was shallow, and he clenched his jaw.
She curled her leg higher, and he suddenly slid deeper. Hermione gasped and Draco cursed, squeezing his eyes closed. His arms shook as he tried to keep still where he was buried inside her.
"Oh god," she moaned, stretched between a precipice of pleasure and pain.
Draco lowered onto his elbow again, watching her carefully as his hand slid between them. The first touch of his fingers to her clit had her relaxing into the pillows.
"Yeah?"
She nodded, and Draco doubled his efforts, his fingers sliding between them to massage her.
His hips started moving again, and Hermione's mouth fell open, her toes curling.
"Too much?"
She shook her head. "More."
His eyes flickered over her, the black obscuring the grey. He thrust into her again, and her eyelids fluttered.
He sighed and began rolling his hips deeply, stretching her, making her feel there was no room left for him.
She watched his face as he watched hers, and she slid her hands down his chest, tracing his scars.
She wanted to kiss each one of them. Forever.
His eyes closed as his hips pumped faster. His fingers on her clit sped up, moving sloppily over her core.
Her muscles clenched as he began to fuck her in earnest, his mouth open in awe, like she held the answers to questions he'd been asking for years.
Her back arched, and her nails dug into his shoulders.
"Fuck—I can't—" His jaw tightened and his thrusts rocked her up the mattress. The bed rattled as he pounded into her body, using her deliciously.
She scratched down his back, clutching him close as he rubbed at her clit. Her thighs began to shake.
Then suddenly he was pulling her hands off of him, pinning her to the mattress, twisting their fingers together as his hips found purchase.
Her lips parted silently when he rocked into her again. She had been close to something, and now—
Now there was something else he was reaching inside of her.
"Oh my god." She shivered violently, moaning. "Oh god."
Her thighs were strained and her knees rocked up to her chest. Her arms struggled under his grip but he just held her more tightly, panting into her hair.
"Come on, Granger."
His cock was hitting something inside of her that made her liquefy. Her cunt clenched down on him, and he yelled out as he fucked her through something unyielding and otherworldly.
She shook in her skin, her spirit rattling inside its cage, begging for a forever that might intertwine with his. Her walls rippled around him, and her vision blurred as Draco's hips slammed to a halt, grunting and pulsing inside of her with groan.
She caught her breath, her chest slick with his sweat and hers. Her fingers were still intertwined with his in a tangle of clenched hands.
He lifted his head and stared down at her. His eyes were bright — grey and searching. He released her hands, and as she stretched her muscles, he brought his fingers to her jaw, examining her face for something. Regret, maybe.
Her eyes were clear as she stared back at him, letting him see through her. No Occlumency. No shelves. And she could see the same in him.
As he kissed her softly, it was like a new book had glided down from her shelves, the pages blank and leather fresh. The binding cracked open, the first page waiting to be written.
.
.
A/N: Updates on Sunday (Next update 6/21/20)
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