Chapter 33 – Still Breathing in Secrets
A/N: Hold onto your butts – got a long chapter of character development and angst a'comin. Also, I'd grab a fan or some water because it's about to get real steamy. All mistakes are my own.
The mornings soon turned cool as the dark green leaves began transitioning into brilliant golds, burnt oranges, and deep reds. Hermione loved all the seasons for the unique beauty and feelings associated with each one, but she acknowledged a slight favoritism for the autumnal season. Not only because it shared a space with her birthday, but it had also marked the return to the school season. She knew it might seem a bit silly to her fellow classmates, but Hogwarts had been the one place she felt like she truly belonged and thrived. The magic of shifting leaves had paired perfectly with the magic of the ancient castle. Her eyes slid over to the pale-haired wizard sitting to her left. They were sitting in the gazebo once again, only this time they sat side by side in the swing tucked beneath a light blanket. Hermione was immensely grateful for his presence. Her magic felt quieter, less chaotic, when he was nearby. She leaned softly against him, quietly observing the thin silvery runes decorating his neck. She resisted the urge to trace them. She had taken some sort of bizarre satisfaction in the knowledge that he bore her, technically they were actually Cerridwen's, markings. When the thought had initially popped into her head, she had been mortified. He had been marked by Voldemort, then had those marks briefly removed, only to be marked in return by her. She had tried to convince herself that the runes were not a bad thing and certainly not on par with a homicidal blood supremist. However, that argument had fallen quite flat the moment she truly considered it. The world wasn't this stark white and black, good vs. evil mindset she had previously employed. In some horrifically screwed up way, Voldemort had done what he considered "for the good of the Wizarding World" and who was she to say that her way was the correct way. History is written by the victors, she grumbled internally, and victors weren't always necessarily right. Giving a small huff of irritation, she shifted further into Draco's side.
"What's on your mind Granger?" He questioned, marking his place and settled the book on his lap.
Hermione would never admit it out loud, but she found his tender care towards books oddly attractive.
"Too many thoughts honestly" she answered with a sigh, "For once, it would be nice to just shut my brain off. I'd take five minutes at this point. Five blissful minutes."
"I believe the day you stop thinking will be the downfall of all Wizarding kind." He remarked with a snort, "What's bothering you?"
"Thoughts much too heavy for this early in the morning." She exhaled, "I'd rather discuss a less serious topic. What's your favorite season?"
He gave a chuckle, a soothing rumble from deep in his chest, a sound that relaxed Hermione immediately.
"Discussing the weather. So formal Granger." He teased, "But if you must know, it used to be winter, but I think I'm leaning towards autumn now."
"Why did you love winter? And why did it switch to autumn? She asked, her curiosity piqued.
She felt a bit silly being excited about them sharing a favorite season, especially since there were only four seasons and it would be ridiculous not to consider overlap in something so simplistic.
"I used to love winter because of the Christmas hols. It was the one time that traditions and formalities were slightly less stuffy. My father tended to ease up on me during the winter as well. But mostly because it was my mother's favorite.", He spoke sadly, a painful edge to his voice, "She adored getting the Manor ready for her ridiculously grand Christmas parties. Picking the floral arrangements, choosing the perfect hors d'oeuvres to serve to guests, stuffing me into stiff and starched formal robes for family portraits, and the like. She smiled most during those times despite the ugliness of everything else around us."
Hermione's heart thumped painfully for him and she laid a small hand over his tense fist. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize what memories that could bring up. We can talk about something else if you'd prefer."
She felt him shake his head vehemently.
"Please don't. I need to get used to speaking about her one day. I miss her dearly and I wouldn't have survived this far without her. I suppose a large portion of my reasoning for initially agreeing to help the Order was to honor her memory, her sacrifice. It's much more than that now, but it's still there. I wanted her to be proud of the son she raised. I'll never know now, but I feel better knowing that I've tried." He gritted out, shoulders slumping.
Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, hoping to convey all the words of understanding and support she couldn't find. She understood his loss on some level, but she didn't think she'd ever fully grasp what exactly he had experienced in his childhood. Hers had been a happy one, full of her parents' unconditional love and support.
"So if winter has such an important meaning, then why would autumn take its place?" she ventured, noticing that his hand had relaxed slightly to curl around hers.
"I wouldn't say it's taking its place," he began, his tone softening, "But rather, providing new memories. Warmer and brighter memories. With you."
Her head snapped upwards, gobsmacked by his words. Heart pounding, she looked into his face. The small smile dropped from his face, replaced by a serious expression. He released her hand and brought it up to gingerly push a curl away, dragging the edge of his nail across her cheek. Her skin burned at the simultaneously innocent and indecent implication behind his touch. It felt almost possessive, causing a slight shiver to run down her spine.
"May I?" he questioned in a low tone, searching her eyes.
"Yes." She whispered, her breathing becoming increasingly erratic.
Leaning forward, he brushed the lightest of kisses on her lips, tasting of his morning tea. This kiss was quiet, probing, and absolutely heart stopping. Like a string had been pulled taunt in her core, begging to be plucked by skilled fingers.
More, her mind screamed. His kiss felt like that first sip of water after traversing a barren desert. Why had she ever waited this long to taste him?
Summoning that famous Gryffindor courage, she pressed back with a touch more fervor and she felt his lips smile against hers in response. He pulled away, leaving her bereft before she saw the reason for his departure. Their runes were glowing softly, tiny slivers of ghostly blue shimmering softly in the morning air. His pale brows arched in a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. Hermione watched the runes on his neck shift as he swallowed nervously. Giving into her earlier desire, she lifted a finger and cautiously traced the patterns down the column of his throat, across the sharp angle of his collarbone to the junction of his button-up shirt. Her eyes flicked up to his, silently seeking permission for the question her probing finger was asking.
"Yes." He answered gruffly, his eyes darkening.
With a swift flick of her finger, the first button was undone. Then the second. By the third, the planes of his strong chest were exposed. The runes traversed every inch of visible skin and it took what little left of her control that remained not to lean forward and devour those delicate markings. Slipping a finger beneath his collar, she slipped the shirt's fabric to the side to reveal an equally tattooed shoulder. His breath hitched with her machinations as his gazed lingered on her face. She was dimly aware of the fact that she was casually undressing Draco Malfoy in an outdoor setting, a voice asserting some absurd rule about propriety. A reminder she firmly pushed aside while continuing to bask in the fascinating and beautiful wizard beneath her hands.
Running fingers deftly across several markings, she licked her lips in anticipation and looked back into his eyes. Ringed in a thin circle of stormy gray, his pupils were blown wide. She swallowed heavily, both empowered and flustered by his blatant display of desire. Gripping his shoulder with one hand, she threaded the other in his fine hair before pulling him towards her in a punishing kiss. Instantly, his arms snaked around her waist, roughly pulling her to straddle across his lap while muttering a stabilizing charm on the gazebo swing in which they sat. His book thudded loudly to the ground and the blanket was thrown carelessly aside. She gave a small squeak of surprise at how skillfully he had pulled her flush against him, but a haze overtook her mind as he kissed her senseless. His tongue gave a quick swipe across her bottom lip to which she gave a flick of her own in response. Carding her fingers in his hair, she gave a quick nip on his lip causing him to moan softly in response. It was a moan that sent a fire straight between her thighs and she was desperate to elicit another one from him. He gently tugged her head back, breaking their breathless kisses to expose her throat. He nuzzled against her neck, trailing soft kisses before his tongue darted out and licked the hollow of her throat. She gave a high keen, bucking softly against him. Her eyes burst open when she felt a bulge press softly against her core. Logic slammed down, washing the lust of haze that had clouded her senses. He was aroused. Very aroused and exceptionally large. A size that firmly sent her mind into overdrive, trying its best not to imagine what that looked like and failing miserably. She gently pressed him back and was distraught by the look of confusion and humiliation that flitted across his face.
"I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me." He pleaded, his features crumpling up in shame as his fingers gripped her fiercely.
His level of despair hit her unexpectedly. She wasn't sure she had ever witnessed such an unguarded expression from him. For the second time in under a short period, Hermione felt she had witnessed an aspect to him that few, if any, had ever seen. He appeared so unabashedly earnest in his misery and desire to do right by her that she nearly tackled him in some perverse sense of appreciation.
"No, Draco, it's not that." She coaxed gently, "I care for you, but I want to do this right. Do you understand that?"
His tense grip on her waist relaxed as his face took on a look of relief. Nodding, he assisted her off his lap with graceful ease and replaced the blanket that had been discarded on the ground below them. With a grunt, he grabbed his forgotten book and placed it strategically on his lap, effectively hiding any lingering evidence of their encounter. She flushed, remembering what lay beneath that book. Equally mortified and intrigued, she released a short cough to shake any remaining improper thoughts.
"Don't get me wrong," she began, "I quite enjoyed myself. However, I'd like to truly know you. Not just my old idea of you or the version of you I've experienced in the past few months. I know those only make up a small portion of who Draco Malfoy is and if I am to be connected to him for the entirety of my life, I'd like to know all of him." She finished with a reassuring smile, attempting to smooth her wild hair.
He gave her a strange look before he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.
"And I look forward to knowing you." He agreed, pulling back to reveal a charming smile.
That night, he laid awake next to Hermione's softly snoring form. The earlier events of the day playing over and over relentless in his mind. Half of him had mocked him for being so familiar with her while the other half had continued to lose itself in the feel of her body pressed so warmly against his. He blew out an irritated puff of air, shifting uncomfortably onto his side away from her. A hard and insistent organ twitched uncomfortably, begging for any sort of release and he grunted in frustration. The scent of her wild hair, the sound of her breathy moans, and her heat pressing up against him.
Why did he crave her so desperately? Since when had she begun to dominate his mind and why did he want to be tangled so deeply in just the thought of her?
Deep down, he knew why. It wasn't just because of the bond. It was beyond that. She captivated him, thrilled him, and inspired him. Glancing at the curve of her nearby body, he stopped short of reaching around and pulling her against him. He hadn't been one for physical closeness and had only dealt with Pansy's clingy attachment with an indifferent air. Eventually she had become so bothersome that he had finally shoved her unceremoniously off his lap, growling about needing space. She had pouted for approximately a week before slithering off to find a new victim. He wondered why he had ever been interested in her in the first place or any other witch for that matter.
With an exasperated sigh, he rolled onto his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sleep would not come easily to him tonight. Or the next few nights, he supposed. Glancing over, he hadn't noticed she had shifted towards him in her sleep. The moonlight filtered through the window and shone gently on her features. Her lips were parted softly as her eyelids fluttered with some unknown dream. Her hair was positively wild and tiny ringlets draped carelessly like a veil. His heart stuttered at the sight of her. She was so magnificent and he marveled at his luck to be by her side. However, a dark voice quickly cut through.
What was she had said? He frowned at the prompt. Ah yes, it recalled, "he feels the bond more strongly than you do."
In some way he didn't find the revelation that surprising. Despite her protests that he was worthy, he couldn't bring himself to believe he would ever truly be. Once again, he had to remind himself that this would last only as long as she allowed it to and he dreaded the day she might cast him away for a more suitable partner. He knew that once she had a choice, she would immediately realize what a terrible partner having a former Death Eater and blood purist would be. He made promises he knew he wouldn't genuinely keep and would set her free the moment she asked. He would take every word, moment, and kiss she would grace him with and hold those memories as a sliver of happiness he had been fortunate enough to experience. They would keep him warm in the eventual lonely days to come, whether as an eternal bachelor or trapped in a loveless marriage to some other witch to ensure the Malfoy line lived on. His frown deepened with each passing thought and he felt strangely suffocated under it all. He desperately needed a lifeline but had no idea where one would ever come from. Exhaling deeply, he resolved to lay there and memorize every inch of her until sleep or exhaustion took him.
The next morning, he arose groggy and drained. Scowling at the shining sun, Draco nearly wished for the dark mist of Hogwarts' highlands. Sitting up, he rubbed the heavy curtain of sleep from his eyes and gave a deep stretch. He heard her shuffle next to him, mirroring his sleepy gestures.
"Morning." She mumbled, her voice partially muffled by the down pillow.
He grunted in reply, desperate for a strong cup of piping hot tea. The morning air has shifted and was starting to creep into the occasional drafts in their shared bedroom. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, no doubt a bird's nest from his restless nighttime shifting, and mentally added installing some sort of portable source up heat to combat the chill.
"Are you alright? You look exhausted." He heard her question as he stood up, giving another stretch to avoid looking directly at her face.
"I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well." He responded, hoping she'd drop the subject. However, he should have know that she of all people would never let a subject rest.
"Will you be alright for the Mabon ceremony tonight?" she asked, concern and a tinge of sadness laced in her voice, "We don't have to if you aren't feeling up to it. I'm sure I can handle it on my own."
Draco's steps faltered. The Mabon ceremony. He had completely forgotten. He grimaced before turning to face her, a neutral expression expertly schooled on his face. She was sitting in the center of the bed, hair spilling in every direction with the sheets pooled at her waist. Despite the small frown and furrow of her brow, she was as beautiful as ever and he wanted so badly to wake up to her every morning. Banishing the thought from his mind , he gave a small shake of dismissal.
"That won't be necessary. The ceremony will continue as planned. We both know you need it and I'd rather not have you perform it alone." He concluded, swiftly leaving the room before she could provide any sort of counterargument.
Two concentrated cups later, Draco headed outside to prepare the space for the Mabon ritual. He had come across the ceremony during his studies and found it to be a very simple, but powerful rite. They had gathered the appropriate greenery: autumn leaves, some dried herbs and vegetables from the garden, and any last-minute wild blooms they had been able to locate.
He had directed Hermione, with the upmost caution, to create a large citrine pendant that hung from a long and delicate gold chain. He was still leery of her transmutation and alchemy abilities but this point he knew not to question her, or Cerridwen's, abilities any further. He had stood by her side, searching for any sign of impending fatigue or severe magical stress, while she transformed a length of twine and a rock into the magic channeling amulet. Afterwards, he had thoroughly questioned her well-being.
"Honestly, Draco, I'm fine." She had snapped lightly, glancing at the simple necklace in her hand.
"Why didn't it affect you nearly as bad as the previous times then?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.
"Maybe because citrine is more common or maybe because it more closely matches the natural geology of the minerals here. I'm not sure – this isn't exactly common magic." She replied irritably, closing her fist and stuffing the jewelry in her dress pocket.
"Geology?" he blinked in confusion, his anger draining, "What is geology?"
"It's a Muggle science. Surprisingly related to alchemy here in the Wizarding World." She gestured to the ground, "Rocks, soil, gemstones. Its all geology, just without the magic. Just like Arithmancy is the Muggle version of mathematics, but again without magic."
Draco cocked his head, puzzled. Muggles had similar magics, or rather non-magics, to them? How was that possible? He had always thought them relatively backwards, besides the arts and musical composition they managed to produce when they weren't busy waging bloody religious wars based on questionable dogma. She seemed to pick up on his bewilderment and gave him a bemused smile.
"Non-magics?" he questioned, giving her a small scowl.
"Science. Muggles work out their problems with science. Its their version of magic or rather what I've been referring to as non-magic. Before Muggles understood the science behind geology, they called it alchemy. Before they understood the stars through astronomy, they used divination." She explained slowly.
His frown lessened but he was still puzzled by her concept of non-magics.
"Are there other types of non-magics, or er- sciences that are similar?" he inquired, partially surprised by his interest in the conversation subject and equally irritated that there was an entire realm of knowledge he was completely separated from.
She gave an amused laugh and gestured for him to sit.
"Well I suppose Potions could count as chemistry, but only a small portion of it I would think. The mixing of chemicals in very specific parts to create new elements and so on. History of Magic pretty much speaks for itself, except its just Muggle history." She tugged on a curl in thought, "Herbology would be a mixture of biology, the study of life, and botany, a branch of biology that focuses on plants. Magical Theory could be a combination of physics and philosophy, mostly because of the theoretical element."
"What about flying?" he started, "Obviously, I know Muggles don't use brooms." He added at seeing the incredulous look on her face.
"Oh, hmm," she considered, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration, "I would suggest a combination of physics and engineering."
Draco sat back, feeling off-kilter, his understanding of Muggles had been tilted on its axis. His parents had obviously deemed anything Muggle-related as immediately beneath them and of insignificant meaning. Of course there had been no Muggles in Slytherin, so that was another blocked route of information. He had always been told they were backwater creatures and the upper crust of Wizarding society had firmly refused to step outside of their magical and cultural bubble, thinking themselves superior in all manners.
"How do you manage it?" he insisted, staring at her in a renewed light.
"Manage what?" she repeated, seemingly lost at his question and tone.
"To live so vicariously in both worlds. To sustain the knowledge and enthusiasm for both Muggle and Wizarding ways. Doesn't it overwhelm and exhaust you?"
She gave him an odd look before it softened into an expression of understanding and pride.
"Only you would find it exhausting." She countered mildly, a smile growing on her face, "Both worlds have their merits, just as they have their faults. I consider myself lucky to be a part of both of them. I find pure joy and awe in the Wizarding world, but the Muggle world can be just as delightful. I can explain the different types of science if you'd like. You never know, there might be a particular branch of science that intrigues you."
He considered her offer and recalled her words from the previous day. She had stated she wanted to get to know him and in return, he had very much wanted the same thing. Maybe, he pondered, this would be an ideal way to restart their pre-conceived notions of each other. He couldn't deny this opportunity, a chance to wash away the dead remains of his previously arrogant way of thinking and start fresh. He was oddly struck with just how much his beliefs had changed in the short time they had been sequestered together. It was baffling and awkward, but in some way, he felt like a better person because of it. Not a good one, just a little better. He'd probably never escape the demons of his near past, but at least he wouldn't be walking alongside them now.
"I'd like that." He finally responded.
Her face lit up, eyes dancing with excitement. She reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze.
"You have no idea how thrilled I am to hear it. It's been too long since I've been able to discuss this with anyone and I am pleased its with you." She beamed.
Draco struggled to contain the achingly large smile that threatened to split his face when she spoke those words. Quickly schooling his features, he covered her hand with his and tenderly ran the pad of his thumb along her wrist.
"Now that we've settled that, it's time to prepare for the Mabon ceremony." He suggested and reluctantly released her hand.
Hermione could barely contain herself as anticipation vibrated through every fiber of her being. She hadn't actually expected him to accept her offer to explain science. She had honestly thought he would scoff or sarcastically decline, writing it off as nonsense. She had been fascinated by the series of changes he had gone through since their arrival and even their conversation from yesterday. Grinning widely, several subjects flitted through her mind. Which one would she tackle first? She certainly couldn't start with physics or philosophy. Those felt just too dense for a beginner. Looking upward as the sun dipped below the horizon, revealing the first twinkle of starlight, she knew immediately which branch. Astronomy. Hogwarts offering astronomy classes. Beyond Muggle Studies, it was the only class that directly tied into Muggle knowledge. But she would delve into the more scientific aspects such as nebulas, black holes, types of stars, and the Big Bang rather than the constellation names, their placements and meanings, and how they corresponded with the seasons. She wished desperately she had some Muggle textbooks hidden in their stash, but unfortunately, they had not been deemed necessary for their horcrux hunt.
She gave a heavy sigh at the thought. She missed Harry, Ron, and everyone else terribly. They must have suffered heavy losses if they still hadn't reached out by now. Every once in a while she had to stifle the urge to leave the safety of their wards and seek them out, but logic always won out. The Order had taken great pains to conceal them both and it would be tremendously foolish of her break that fragile balance. No doubt Voldemort and his followers were hoping someone would be imprudent and rash enough to show their face and led them right into however many safehouses had been hidden. Draco and herself hadn't made any progress on the horcruxes themselves, so she hoped the Order was having better luck identifying the objects. However, this had allowed them time to learn more of Cerridwen and ancient magics that could proof useful later on. Tonight's ceremony could even be useful in replenishing a witch or wizard's depleted magical energy. Constant magical battles were tiresome and if they could create a condensed version of the rite, then fighters could be back on their feet sooner.
Speaking of the ritual, she had been quite relieved at the simplicity of it all. She would wear a simple robe of burnished orange with a crown of collected autumn leaves, fallen acorns, and the last blooms of a faded summer threaded throughout her hair. Her only adornment would be the simple citrine pendant she had transformed earlier. The pendant's task was simple: collect any energy utilized during the ceremony to replenish her magic. Like a magical battery, she had concluded with a snort.
After dusk, they would draw a circle around a fire with a ring of runic symbols for balance, protection, and synergy. Once the circle was cast, they would burn their collected sacrifices of herbs, vegetables, and fallen flora while chanting a spell that spoke of great cycles and transference of deep powers. Hermione understood why magical folk had moved away from these long-spoken rituals since the ease of wands and simple incantations were available. However, she found beauty and peace in the rituals. Maybe, she thought, if the war were won, these ancient ways could be reintroduced and taught to all should they seek it.
Stepping into the cottage, they both set to task. He continued prepping herbs and various veggies for storage on their drying rack while she made a light supper of their fresher ingredients that wouldn't survive long-time storage. Fortunately, through the Stasis Charm, much of their harvest would last much longer than normal. She stepped back and admired their pantry. It was completely stocked and all around them, hanging from the ceiling, were bushels of fragrant herbs. Draco was hunched over at the table, a look of concentration scrunching up his face, while he methodically and precisely sealed each jar with he utmost care. She was reminded of how he looked during Potions, when he wasn't busy tormenting Harry or Ron, and she let herself admire him. She imagined that had he not be such a bully, they might have worked well together in Potions and maybe even had a little healthy competition to see who could make a better brew. Maybe their hypothetical academic rivalry would have turned into something beyond that. Friends. Maybe more. However, she was quite content with the version before her. Their path to friendship had been uncomfortable and forced.
Merlin, her mind whirled, she was friends with Draco Malfoy!
And she found herself most displeased at that notion. She didn't just want to be his friend. They had both admitted they cared for each other, but had there been anything else beyond that? Did he think of her more than a friend? His words had been noble and she had admired him for that. Not to mention the increasingly tense friction that crackled between them. Never in her life had she been kissed so mind-blowingly or made her want to crawl into his lap for round two, but wasn't that because of the bond and just normal hormones? She had feelings but were they THOSE feelings? Muffling a groan of irritation, she was not ready to address that particular issue. Not with the issue of Cerridwen unresolved, her failing health, the alarming matter of the actual act of bonding itself, and of course, an ongoing wizarding war. Stuffing the unsettling thoughts down, she shifted her attention to the evening's preparations. She placed his dinner before him and stared down at her own plate in discomfort, her appetite all but gone.
"Turns out I'm not so hungry after all. Set this aside for me if you don't mind." She rushed out before pushing back from the table and hurried up the stairs, leaving him holding his fork mid-air with a bewildered look directed at her back.
Closing the door behind her, she set to task. Anything to get her mind off him and the annoyingly complex emotions he inspired in her. Grabbing the lovely robe from the armoire, she laid it out carefully on the bed. The color of a brilliant sunset and form fitting with a long thin lace-up panel running up the middle. A simple braided belt completed the look. For tonight, she decided it would be best to leave her hair wild and uncombed. This would allow the leaves, acorns, and flowers to stick better. Using a wet cloth, she wiped away any stray dirt and took a moment to appreciate her runes. They were as delicate as veins, nearly impossible to notice and formed in an organic pattern that appeared as if she was born with the symbols. Walking over to the mirror, she gazed at her reflection. She hadn't really taken the time to reflect on her fully nude figure, especially now that she shared it with another. Her eyes trailed down, taking in the complete dominion the symbols had. They were thicker, more conspicuous as they neared her center and least prominent on her extremities. They were almost invisible on her face, fingers, and toes but shimmered brightly on her breasts, navel, and pubic region. The only exception was the original vessel marker on her wrist. It was darker than all the other, more of a burnished and aged gold. Inhaling lightly, she questioned if his markings made the same path.
Were they delicate everywhere or did they change in shape and color? What did he think of having them? As far as she knew, he had never spoke a word against or in protest of the markings. Had he explored his marks?
She traced the symbols with probing fingers and watched as her body reacted to the touch, thinking of him mirroring her machinations. Goosebumps covered her skin as shivers crept down her back, igniting a fire in her belly. Dragging one hand up her thigh and the other down her sternum, her legs clenched in response as her hands met in the middle. She could feel the heat building, so reminiscent of her spread across his lap. Her breath hitched as she slid fingers down into that apex of soft curls. She stifled a gasp as she pictured his large hands in place of hers, his fingers stroking instead of hers. Using her other hand to pinch a taunt nipple, she continued swirling her fingers with delicate brushes against a painfully tender bundle of nerves. She envisioned his head angled down, pressing faint kisses along her shoulder while his hair swept lightly across the tops of her breast. Her breathing shallowed as she pinched harder and pressed deeper, curling her fingers to brush against the sweetest spot. Panting heavily with images of his tongue tasting every inch of skin, she felt her walls tensing around her slick fingers. Her fantasy lover lifted his lead with a devilish grin, one hand palming and rolling an aching breast while the other was pumping out of sight. As he shifted into reflected view, Hermione's mind imagined what she had felt between her thighs and she came undone, her insides humming with release.
"Draco." She whimpered as his image disappeared from the mirror, leaving her alone once more.
She turned and sat on the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands after muttering a quick cleansing spell. As she came down from her high, she realized what had just happened. She had pleasured herself to the thought of him. Strangely enough, she wasn't upset at that particular aspect of it. She was more dismayed at what that meant on a deeper level. She wanted him. Plain and simple as day. She wanted him in every way. From the daydreams of a future together to catching herself watching him to immensely enjoying his company and conversation. Now, he wanted to learn about Muggle science and she couldn't deny the chemistry, bond or not, that floated between them. She, Hermione Jean Granger, had unreservedly and entirely fallen for Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Sweet Circe, help me, she muttered.
Dressing quickly and unceremoniously cramming her Mabon crown on her riotous hair, apparently just as ruffled as she was. With nervous fingers she braided in six red ribbons, hoping her many ribbon hints, even though they were exceptionally subtle hints at that, would continue to say what she couldn't quite manage. Seeing that dusk had finally arrived, she gave a whine of anxiety before slipping on the citrine pendant to join Draco for the ceremony, hoping one day she could tell him how she felt.
Post A/N: OK….so what do y'all think? I am dying to know. This chapter was a doozy to write, crammed full of lots of stuff, and I loved every agonizing minute. Did we like the steamy? Did we like the science? Why do I write them so ridiculously obtuse? But what about the runes and the ceremony? So many questions, so many chapters in progress haha. Also, I am curious if anyone has picked up on the system I am using for Hermione's ribbons. Last thing, I'd like to point out that both characters are of age.