Hogwarts/Hogsmeade
November 26, 2006
It had been five days since Hermione was attacked, and she was slowly adjusting to her new normal. She had learned that Theo was in some sort of magical coma, and there was no indication of when, or if, he would regain consciousness. She was relieved not to have to worry about the man, but she still made a point of keeping her gun close to her at all times.
Since the attack, she no longer had to take "lessons" with Amycus Carrow. Instead, she was expected to practice accessing the ancient magic. Every day, she was called into Hogwarts to provide her "findings" to the Dark Lord. At first, he seemed unbothered by her lack of progress, but his patience seemed to be waning.
"I'm disappointed, Hermione," he snarled at her.
She blinked, remembering to avoid eye contact, and attempted to find the right words to placate the man. "Sir, I'm not sure how I was able to access the magic. I have been researching—"
"I don't care about your research. Perhaps you need more incentive," he sneered.
She felt her stomach drop at the threat, and considered once more the likelihood that the Dark Lord himself had orchestrated her attack five days earlier.
"No sir. I will work harder." She bowed, her heart racing.
"You have five days." He didn't tell her what would happen in five days. And a part of her wondered why he was even giving her this, but perhaps it came back to that damned prophecy and the "power to choose." He was still trying to be amenable, or as amenable as a psychotic Dark Lord couldbe.
"I will work day and night, sir. Thank you," she told him, still bowing. He dismissed her with a lazy wave of his hand, and she headed back to her lab. She wondered if he even knew what she did there. How much control and oversight did he truly have in this place?
With her increased awareness of the primal power that had flowed through her, she had begun to sense the ancient magic within Hogwarts itself. But only barely, as though the magic were faint or weak. But without knowing how much of the ancient magic used to flow through the castle, and only having second hand accounts of how the magic had changed in the past fifteen years, she could only guess what precisely was happening to it.
Her current hypothesis was that Hogwarts was dying. She couldn't be certain if the Dark Lord was truly leeching power from the castle, or if it was due to the lack of students, but it seemed the most viable explanation she could come up with. Although, without more data, she was unable to theorize how long it had been dying or when the magic would vanish completely.
The other question was what would happen if, or when, the castle died? What would be the impact on Magic itself?
Back in her lab, she magically locked the door, finding the action comforting, even knowing that the Dark Lord could most likely intrude at any time. She had not lied to him; she really was trying to get a handle on the primal magic and understand how to access it. Of course, she was doing it for completely different reasons, but regardless, her lab was covered in every book on ancient magic and magical nexuses she could find in her quest for answers.
What she had learned was that the magic wielded by magicals today was, in a sense, a diluted version of the "primal" Magic that came from the nexus. The best she could make sense of it was that, a long time ago, magic was massive and uncontrollable. When Hogwarts was built, the founders "tamed" magic, and witches and wizards were then able to exhibit control of it. She imagined primal Magic was like the sun, beaming everywhere all at once, wrecking everything in its path. The connection between Hogwarts and the magical nexus acted almost as a magnifying glass, allowing the magic to be focused.
Of course, this meant that magic could only be used in bits and pieces, and not in the dramatic ways it had in the past. Hermione grudgingly admitted that perhaps Hogwarts truly was special, despite what she had said to Draco when they first met.
So then the question became how was it she was able to wield such Magic? She couldn't fathom anything out of the ordinary about her, so was it just chance? Perhaps she was simply in the right place at the right time. She wasn't willing to assume it was her when, without further evidence, there was the possibility of it being a coincidence. After all, lightning could strike twice.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she waved her wand, uttering a quick revealing spell to show it was just Draco. She casted an Alohomora, letting him into the classroom.
"Hi," she greeted before returning to the potion she had been steeping.
"How was it?" he asked, as he did every day, knowing she had to tell the Dark Lord the bad news.
"Not great. He's giving me five days to figure this out, until he takes more drastic measures," she told him without looking up from her cauldron.
"'Drastic measures?'" Draco repeated.
"I assume he'll try to beat it out of me," she replied bluntly.
"So, we leave in five days," he suggested, smiling tentatively.
Hermione considered this, biting the inside of her lip. "I think that might be for the best."
Draco nodded and walked over to her, examining her potion and the open books. "You still haven't found anything?"
"I've been wandering the castle as much as I can get away with, trying to get a feel for the primal Magic. There are moments where I feel so close... but then, nothing." She shook her head.
"I had a thought," he said nervously.
"What is it?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
"I just, I think you need to relax—" he paused at her incredulous glare, "—no, not like that. I was thinking... the Dark Lord has left the castle for the night. Perhaps I can take you flying?"
"On a broomstick?" she asked, eyes wide. "At night?"
He chuckled. "Yes. I promise, I'm quite a good flyer."
She shook her head. "Nope. No. No. No, no, no."
"Please, Hermione. I promise, if you're uncomfortable, I'll bring you down to earth and you can continue your endless research."
She was intrigued by the thought of flying on a broom, but she was also terrified of heights. But she recalled the way Draco talked about flying and wanted very much to see him fly. So, despite her better judgement, she agreed, "Fine."
He smiled brightly and dragged her down to what was once a Quidditch pitch, at least according to the Map. It was quite dark, the sun setting hours earlier, and a sharp biting wind cut through her on the clear night. She shivered, and Draco cast a warming charm.
"Is it okay for you to be here flying with me?" she asked. Since seeing Astoria, she had so far kept her word and ensured her relationship with Draco stayed strictly professional. Of course, the fact that they planned to leave in five days kind of made the situation moot, but Hermione didn't feel the need to cause the woman any unnecessary pain.
Draco shrugged. "I don't think it would be looked at as anything more than you learning how to fly."
She exhaled. "Alright. What do I do?"
Draco gave her a brief overview of flying mechanics and safety, though he assured her that he was not going to let her fly on her own. He positioned her towards the front of the broomstick, which was far more comfortable than it appeared. He scooted in behind her, grabbing onto her waist. She placed her hands on his wrists and felt his light stubble brush against her shoulder when he whispered, "You ready?"
She could barely breathe. She imagined this was what it would feel like to get on a roller coaster, the sheer anticipation of it. Of course, roller coasters were required to pass extensive safety inspections and had a predetermined path and safety belts. This was a broomstickfor goodness sakes! She attempted to tamp down her fear and steady her breathing, leaning against Draco's chest. She squeezed his hands, holding on for dear life.
He pushed off slowly, but the feeling of her feet hoveringoff the ground made her stomach lurch, and she let out a small squeal, like a school girl jumping off a swing. Draco chuckled against her ear as he tightened his grip on her waist and steered the broom. "I've got you," he murmured and took them slightly higher.
Hermione suddenly thought to look down and yelped, terrified by how high they were. She knew, rationally, that witches and wizards flew on brooms frequently, but, still, this didn't seem safe. She was about to say something when, once again, Draco whispered in her ear. "Look up."
And she did.
The sky was perfectly clear; there was not a cloud in sight. The stars were unblemished, as bright as she had ever seen, and the Milky Way streamed across above them. She was mesmerized; everywhere she looked, there were an impossible number of stars. How could she have lived two years without this, without appreciating the night sky?
She had almost forgotten she was flying, her head leant against Draco's chest as she stared up. Her eyes watered, and she felt in that moment something she hadn't felt in so long. She felt safe. It didn't matter how many feet in the air they were, or that perhaps she didn't know everything about Draco Malfoy; or even that her rational mind doubted her ability to trust him.
He had given up everything he knew to help her. Granted, he had learned that the man he revered had murdered his mother in cold blood, but still… he had made a choice. She felt a sense of obligation for her part in the Event – and a scientific curiosity that drove her. But Draco? Looking back, there were so many paths he could have taken, but he had chosen to help.
She turned to look at him, his features soft and his hair windswept. He caught her gaze and smiled. Her breath hitched and she couldn't look away; this was why she wanted to go flying after all, to watch him do something he loved.
Without really thinking about it, she kissed him. It was chaste, a thank you of sorts, because she didn't quite have the right words for him at that moment. He had done something for her that night — well, that month, but particularly that night. He had reminded her that, even in the darkness, the pitch of black, there were stars.
He slowed down and brought them to a flat roof at the top of a tower. She felt an odd sense of sadness, a longing for the air and the feeling of weightlessness, where gravity had no control over her. But as she turned to Draco, noticing his furrowed brows, she grew wary.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I had an ulterior motive for taking you flying tonight. Nothing inappropriate," he assured her, though she wondered in that moment if she would have had the wherewithal to resist his advances, regardless of his engagement. "I need to tell you something."
"And you needed to tell me here?" she asked, frowning.
He took a deep breath. "Yes." He gave her no additional explanation before conjuring a couple of chairs for them. "I re-read my mother's journal, and I found something."
Hermione's eyes widened. "What is it?"
"There was a section, I had initially assumed it to be a metaphor but... what if it's not?" he asked, taking out the journal. He read aloud, "'I have destroyed it – the darkness in the bookshelf. I couldn't stand the whispers, but it is gone now. Lucius suspects something is amiss, but I did what I must do.''"
Hermione frowned. "What do you think it means?"
Draco showed her the journal and pointed to the 'f' in the word bookshelf. She squinted, and her eyes went wide when she recognized it: that damn symbol, the one on the locket and on Regulus' book. "Holy shit," she mumbled.
"Yeah." Draco nodded. "When I first read it, I thought it was simply her way of saying she no longer believed in Pureblood supremacy, or perhaps she cleaned herself of dark magic, and my father suspected her of it. But now I'm thinking — what if she found a Horcrux and destroyed it?"
"And the Dark Lord found out and wanted revenge..." Hermione surmised. "Shit, Draco."
"I know." He swallowed.
She reached for his hand, but an unnatural breeze blew past her, like a shift in the air itself.
"Did you feel that?" she asked him, frowning. By the time he shook his head, she was already moving, the strange feeling in the air pulling her towards a trapdoor that led them back into the castle.
"Where are we?" she asked as they walked along a corridor she didn't recognize.
"Hmm? Not sure exactly." He blinked.
Hermione paced back and forth, trying to pinpoint the feeling that beckoned her, when a door appeared. "Uh, Draco." She looked alarmed. "Was that there before?"
"No," he whispered. "But I've heard of Hogwarts being able to grow and create rooms or other things that were needed. I've never seen it myself though..." he trailed off.
Without asking Draco for his advice, Hermione opened the door, revealing an endless room, filled with odds and ends. Her eyes widened. "What is this place?"
"I have no idea." He looked around, frowning.
Hermione had already wandered in, darting through the aisles. "Oh my. Draco!" she shouted.
"What?"
"I can feel it: the beckoning breeze I felt out on the tower, only amplified!" She started running and didn't stop until she was standing in front of a small pedestal. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto it and was bathed in a blinding light.
"HERMIONE?" Draco shouted, though he sounded far away.
"I'm fine," she attempted to reassure him, feeling the magic flood through her.
"Hello, Hogwarts," she said softly. She could feel the castle, as though it whispered to her, and she realized she was right; the castle was dying. This room, the Room of Requirement, she realized, held the last vestiges of its ancient magic. The magic in this room at this moment — a millennia of students' and teachers' junk — was all that remained.
The castle, or perhaps the nexus beneath it, was weak. Without speaking, she asked a thousand questions. What was happening? Were they on the right track? And the one that kept repeating over and over in her head: Why her?
The castle could not speak – it was alive and sentient, but it did not grasp human concepts. It merely sang in her head, a familiar tune that somehow told her what she needed to know. After what felt like only a moment, she felt something heavy in her hand, and both the magic and the light vanished.
She stared at the object in her hand, a sword, mesmerized by the elaborate blade and still awed by the experience of communicating with Hogwarts herself.
She stepped down, turning to see Draco seething. "What?" she asked him.
"You just walk in here, run away, and stand on a magical pedestal? Does that seem like a good idea? You're supposed to be the smart one! The one who makes the rational choices. I thought – what if it had taken you away?" he yelled.
"I was only up there for a minute," she argued with a shrug.
"You were there for an hour!" he cried. "Do you know what that is?" He pointed at the sword in her hand. She raised the sword in order to examine the hilt. Draco jumped back to avoid being stabbed.
"I think this is something that will kill a Horcrux," she explained, admiring the sword in her hand.
"It's the Sword of Gryffindor," Draco told her.
"Oh!" She smiled, squinting at the marks and craftsmanship, before her lips fell into a straight line.
"What?" he asked.
"It's a strange feeling I had, like the castle was trying to say the sword belonged to me. Something that was left here…" She frowned as she tried to put the feelings into words.
"What does that mean?" Draco tilted his head, looking at the sword warily.
"I'm not quite sure. Just… it's different. But I feel sure it will do what we need it to," she explained. "I asked Hogwarts 'why me?' And the sword was simply there."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"I'm still mad at you," Draco eventually muttered, though he seemed more intrigued than upset. "Can you tell me exactly what happened?"
"I was able to, well, not exactly talk to Hogwarts... but I communicated with her in some way. That's how I'm confident this will kill Horcruxes. And now I know there are three Horcruxes in this school." She frowned.
His brows furrowed, and he shifted his eyes to avoid her gaze. "I think one is the snake."
"The snake?" she asked.
Draco continued, "The Dark Lord has this awful snake, Nagini. Usually, he keeps it in its quarters, but lately, he's been giving it greater reign of the castle. I'm surprised you haven't seen it. Anyway, it has some odd markings above its eyes, kind of like…" he trailed off uncomfortably.
"Alright, so, the snake. Then what else?" she asked.
Draco looked at her and audibly swallowed. "I think one's a person."
Hermione's eyes flashed. "Are you sure?" she asked softly.
He quirked his lip. "It makes sense."
Hermione's eyes were drawn, but she nodded. "Alright, let's worry about that one last. So, if one's in the snake, and one's in a person, there's still one more in the castle. Any ideas?"
When he offered no solutions, she continued, "I guess it's time to call Harry and Ginny."
Little Hangleton
Earlier that day
Harry looked warily at the shack in front of them, its dilapidated state and the restless trees with their gangly branches surrounding it gave off the eerie feeling of a haunted house.
"I'm pretty sure I've seen this movie," he told Ginny with a half-smile.
She rolled her eyes. "The Horcrux detector isn't showing anything, but there are some insane wards around this place."
"And why would anyone feel the need to put up wards to protect a shack in the middle of nowhere?" Harry pointed out. Ginny nodded and pulled an electronic mechanism out of her bag. "What's that?" he asked.
"Ward disruptor," she told him.
He nodded, impressed. He had heard of them, but they were heavily regulated.
She set a few dials and urged Harry to squat behind a tree beside her. She shouted, "Fire in the hole!" and threw the disruptor towards the shack. They heard a small explosion and peeked out, the path to the house now clear.
"Nice." He smiled, and she offered a smirk in response. Harry kept expecting a colony of bats to rain down on them or an axe murderer to show up.
Right as they neared the door, Ginny smiled, showing Harry the Horcrux detector. "We got one," she confirmed.
As they walked in, the hovel looked as though it had not been touched in a long time, leading Harry to wonder why Voldemort would think it was a good idea to leave a part of his soul here. Though, come to think of it, one would have to know who Voldemort really was to think to check the last known domicile of the Gaunts, and they would have to get past the wards. Harry was sure that Voldemort never considered that something like a 'Ward Disruptor' would be invented
The place was in shambles; chunks of wall were missing, critters ran rampant, and dust was piled up everywhere.
Ginny was carefully watching the Horcrux detector, her face a mask of concentration as she attempted to isolate the source of the signal. "It's over here," she called out.
Harry scurried over, watching Ginny look intently at the floor. "Where is it?" he asked, expecting to see the diadem.
"The detector indicates it's here." She frowned.
Harry ducked down and, noticing a slight bump in the floorboards, removed one, revealing a small box. "Well, I don't think that's a diadem." He summoned the box, not wanting to touch it, and spelled it open. Within the box was a ring with the same markings as the locket and Regulus' book.
Harry was suddenly overcome with the sudden desire to put the ring on, but he was shaken out of his reverie by a rough smack on his hand.
"Don't touch the Horcrux," Ginny scolded him while magically transferring the object to a jar. Harry shook himself, unsure what had come over him.
"Alright, well, that was easy." He smiled.
"Why would you say that?" Her face fell.
"What?"
"You can't say 'well, that was easy'! That's when the axe murderer shows up, or the ghosts, or any number of terrible things!" she argued.
"Ha! I'm not the only one who has seen too many movies." He was quite smug.
She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, let's go."
Chamonix, France
It was around ten at night when Harry, who had been drifting asleep by the fire in the living room, was startled awake by the sound of voices coming from his satchel. It took him a moment to remember the mirror that had been sitting there silently for the last few weeks.
He pulled out the mirror and elbowed Ginny, who had actually been awake and wasn't particularly happy about being elbowed in the ribs. "Sorry," he told her as he gestured to the buzzing mirror.
They awkwardly held the mirror between them. "Hello," Harry said politely. In the reflection, Hermione sat on what looked like the roof of a tower, looking quite pleased, with Draco hovering behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Where are you anyway?"
"We're at the castle. How have you guys been?" Hermione started with a slight smile.
"Good – we've found two horcruxes," Harry informed them.
"That's – interesting," Hermione said. "We've learned quite a bit in the past couple of hours." She paused and showed them a sword.
"The Sword of Gryffindor!" Harry exclaimed.
"You know it?" Hermione was intrigued.
"I initially had it on our list of potential Horcrux objects but Harry took it off because it can just appear out of nowhere and can't effectively be hidden," Ginny explained.
"Well, we believe it can destroy Horcruxes." Hermione smiled.
"Really?" Harry asked, leaning towards the mirror.
"We haven't tested it, but it appears we will get the chance. That's the next thing we wanted to tell you." Hermione took a deep breath. "I was able to communicate with Hogwarts. I believe there are three Horcruxes here; we think Voldemort's snake is one. We also believe a person here is a Horcrux, which would leave one more we have yet to identify."
Harry frowned. "A person?"
Draco and Hermione both shifted their gaze. She finally responded, "Yes."
Harry nodded but didn't push the matter any further.
Ginny did the math in her head. "But that means—"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed, "if you've found two, then that means you have three and we have three. Of course, assuming my hypothesis that the Dark Lord split his soul seven ways is correct."
"Let's just keep assuming it is," Harry interrupted.
"Do you have any idea what it is we're supposed to be looking for?" Hermione asked.
"We initially assumed they would be Hogwarts founders relics; we've found Hufflepuff's cup, and we have the locket from Sirius's house. But we never found one from Ravenclaw; we figured it would be her diadem," Harry explained.
Draco nudged Hermione out of the way and interjected, "What does it look like?"
Ginny grabbed a book from the table, finding the page in question. "It's like this – a sort of tiara." She attempted to press the image to the mirror
Draco's eyes narrowed at the image and then widened. "I think I saw that," he said. "When we were in the Room of Requirement." He turned to Hermione.
"When did you see it?" Hermione asked Draco.
"When you were 'communing' with the castle," he drawled.
Hermione glared at him momentarily before returning her attention to Harry and Ginny.
"Alright, so we'll get the diadem and destroy it, as well as the snake, and return to London. We're on a bit of a time crunch here, so we'll try to get to London with the sword as soon as possible."
"What about the person?" Harry frowned.
Hermione blinked, looking down at her hands. "I have a theory about that. Don't worry, we'll figure it out."
"Alright." Harry frowned but nodded his acceptance. "We'll plan to get back to London to meet you as soon as possible. If there's any trouble — if you get apprehended — ask for me or Daphne."
"Thank you," Hermione told him sincerely. "We'll see you soon."
Hogwarts/Hogsmeade
Hermione shut the mirror and turned to Draco. He had conjured a blanket, and they lay together, watching the clear sky give way to clouds as a cold breeze began to blow against their exposed skin.
"This is it," she told him, her ear against his chest, the 'thump, thump' bringing her comfort.
"Should we talk about it?" he asked with a frown, gently brushing a hand up and down her arm.
"About what?" she responded quietly.
"The last Horcrux," his words came out dull, almost monotone.
She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. "Not tonight." She didn't even want to think about it. She knew, on some level what it meant, what needed to be done. But to talk about it — to say the words aloud...
"All right—" he exhaled roughly "—what do you think is going to happen?" he asked, his chin on her head and arms wrapped possessively around her.
"Oh, I don't know," Hermione mumbled, "we'll destroy the evil wizard and be hailed as heroes upon returning home."
He chuckled, his warm breath playing against her cool skin. She smiled at the sensation; she had missed him, his touch. She placed her hands on his, wrapping them more firmly around her as they watched the stars slowly dim, no match for the oncoming storm clouds. "I think the sky knows what's coming," she mused.
He nodded. "I don't mind — I guess I like that the stars aren't always so bright, or else I worry I'd take them for granted."
She smiled at that, this small insight into Draco Malfoy.
He started playing with her hair, running his hands through it and trying to tame the flyaways. She turned her head, meeting his gaze head on, and kissed him.
It wasn't like the kiss on the broomstick, that had been a thank you of sorts. This was something else, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. His fingers skimmed through her hair, his tongue pressing against her lips.
She clutched his shirt, slanting her mouth to his. Her previous commitment to abstain from him felt like a different lifetime, a different set of assumptions.
She realized then what this kiss was: it was fear, the "what if" the worst happens and they don't make it out of here. She opened her eyes, recognizing the worry so clear in Draco's. She wished she had the words to assure him, but she didn't. So instead, she wrapped her arms around him, while the soft flurries of winter's first snowfall softly landed atop them.
Draco pulled his face back, casting a quick spell, creating an invisible barrier between them and the oncoming storm. Hermione pressed closer, wrapping her legs around him, as though if she could physically keep him close to her, their other problems would simply evaporate.
His fingers traced along her sides, sending shivers up and down her spine that had nothing to do with the biting wind. She grabbed at his hair, his face, his arms, his torso — at everything. She was trying to memorize every bit of him, and from the way his hands shifted, from her back to her breasts and down to her thighs, she suspected he was doing the same.
He lay her down gently, placing her on her side and casting a heating charm. He paused his ministrations, simply gazing at her, balancing on his elbow.
"Hermione—" he started.
She interrupted him with a kiss, pressing herself flush against him. She recognized that glint in his eye, had an idea of what he was about to say, but she wasn't ready for it. She may have realized she felt safe with him, but she wasn't quite ready to recognize anything else that lay beneath the surface. So instead, she deepened the kiss, hoping that for tonight, at least, that this would be enough.
Draco sighed, pushing his tongue against hers, fully willing to be distracted. He wrapped a leg around her, tucking a hand into her waistband, fingers rubbing soft circles over her knickers until she jutted her hips towards him.
Her breath hitched, and he pulled his mouth back just an inch, watching her as she shut her eyes, focused on the feeling of his fingers on her.
He pushed his hand into her knickers, gently circling her nub with his thumb. She felt his eyes on her, his soft breaths playing against her neck as he continued prodding and swiping her clit. He pressed a finger within her, slowly sliding it in and out, his every stroke sending tremors through her.
Hermione writhed against his touch, throwing her head back. He trailed light kisses up her neck, along her scar, finally pressing his lips to hers, swallowing her moans.
She opened her eyes, watching him with the snow falling around them.
She sucked at his lower lip, pushing her hand down his trousers, roughly stroking his length. "I want you tonight," she told him, her voice breaking as he roughly placed another finger in her.
"I want you every night." He smirked but shifted so he was hovering over her. They tore their remaining clothes off hastily, as though worried time would suddenly run out.
Her chest heaved as she looked up at him, framed by the dark sky above. He looked vulnerable, so far removed from the man he was when she originally found him. Maybe it was the fact they were outside, or that it was snowing, or everything that had happened, but, whatever it was, this was different.
He gently entered her, exhaling roughly, gripping her hips.
She kept her eyes open and watched as he thrust in a slow rhythm, his eyes an exquisite combination of lust and concentration. Above him, she could see the snow, falling heavier, but knowing to avoid them. For all that she had lived through, knowing about magic and herself being magical, she felt that this moment — watching him and the snow, their lives on the precipice — this moment was magic.
She grabbed his face, pulling his lips to hers and kissing him roughly. She attempted to match his rhythm, pulling herself up against him. As his movements became more erratic, his thrusts growing in intensity, she closed her eyes, concentrating entirely on the moment.
She felt his lips graze her ear and shivered when his tongue slid over her scar. It was so strange, to consider how far they had come, how that mark on her face seemed so entwined with their story. Her entire body vibrated, his every movement filling her with warmth. He reached under her arms, clutching her shoulders from behind, pushing into her harder. She gasped at the friction, feeling the building warmth like a coil preparing to spring. Her breath was short and she forced her eyes open, needing to watchhim.
He was staring at her, his face an open book of fear, longing, lust, and something else she didn't want to think about. In his final thrusts, she found her release, and she held his gaze, unwilling to look away. She held him, afraid to let go, of what tomorrow would bring.
But as always, tomorrow would have to come.
A/N: Thank you as alwys to my alpha/betas: ElizColl, Art3misia and Astrangefan. I appreciate any and all reviews. You can also find me on Tumblr at canttouchthis87.