At first, both were uncertain of how to proceed, but each, for their own reason, knew they would need to cultivate a relationship with the other. What began with casual nods and nervous smiles, slowly progressed to greetings and comments about the weather, until in a matter of weeks he went from being the guard who followed her, to her companion in her stroll around the bailey.
In the beginning, he stuck to his habit of maintaining a certain amount of distance from her, but with each smile directed his way he felt emboldened to move a little closer. As his certainty over her acceptance of his presence increased, proportionately did the physical space between them decrease. Where once not even their shadows caressed; now they walked side-by-side talking of everything and nothing in particular, though, each was intelligent enough to steer clear of sensitive subjects that could cause their budding relationship to wither and die on the vine. So for all they conversed, neither spoke of the things that truly mattered.
Until Draco began accompanying her, Hermione had grown lonely in more than just the physical sense. Ever since her introduction to the wizarding world, she was accustomed to always having people around her, whether it was the girls dormitory at Hogwarts or the different Order safe houses she lived in since she was forced to quit school. While she may have liked being by herself when researching something or even reading for pleasure, as a rule, she did not enjoy solitude. Months of being left alone behind enemy lines, in her room at Bleidd Castle, with nothing to do to pass her time, and her daily interactions limited to Zoey, who was about as responsive as a plank, made Hermione desperate for some form of companionship. Even if Draco did not speak much, and made her carry the weight of the conversation, she didn't mind. Thanks to Zoey, she had grown rather skilled at holding one-sided conversations. Besides, she was naturally inclined to prattle when nervous, and the heated looks he gave her when he thought she would not notice, ensured she was sufficiently on edge to maintain an incessant stream of chatter.
It took Hermione some time to recognise the sexual tension between them for what it was, but when she did, the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. One of the unpleasant side effects of the pregnancy, apart from the excessive vomiting, was the high libido she found herself stuck with. Thinking of the intense stares directed at her by a certain blond only made matters worse, especially now that she had started to notice what a fine specimen of masculinity he was, in strictly physical terms. It certainly didn't help her keep her lustful thoughts in check when she could recall just how pleasurable sex with him could be. Extraordinarily though, it had taken something as innocuous as a smile for her to find out she was attracted to him.
Watching Draco smile was an odd phenomenon. Hermione could not recall a single time she had seen him smile genuinely in all their years at school. With his harsh colouring and frosty demeanour, it was easy to forget that Draco Malfoy was a good-looking wizard. But, something about his smile transformed his face, almost as much as lycanthropy did during the full moon, going from posh and contemptuous, to open and accessible. While it wasn't an infectious smile like Ron's, or even endearing as Harry's, Draco's smile made Hermione notice the man himself.
To her people usually appeared as the sum of their actions. A man like Lucius Malfoy who was evil enough to give a little girl a cursed diary was ugly, while a noble elf like Dobby, who sacrificed his life helping Harry, Luna and Neville escape captivity, was beautiful. Confronted with a new version of Draco Malfoy, for the first time, Hermione found herself painting a picture of a man based solely on shallow appearances, and to her great shame, she discovered she was attracted to what she saw.
Hermione observed that while he did not talk much, Draco would find excuses to touch her. She pretended not to notice since the touches were fairly innocent anyway; his fingers brushing against hers, a hand offered in support lingering for longer than necessary, fingers grazing her neck while tucking away a stray curl. Hermione wasn't called the brightest witch for nothing. She could see what was happening, his werewolf instincts were making him more protective of her since she was carrying his children. And while he was turning out to be a far more pleasant companion than she could've imagined, she was still a prisoner and he a Death Eater, however disgraced.
She didn't know how Draco had ended up there, whether he was punished for turning into a werewolf or punished by being turned into a werewolf, but, undoubtedly, he would have been disgraced as the people on his side of the war were not known for their tolerant attitude towards anyone not Pure. Draco's situation made him the best candidate for an ally since he was already predisposed to protecting her. She recognised the need to encourage whatever was naturally developing between them so she could exploit it in the future to orchestrate her escape.
In the beginning, she was indifferent to him, but once aware of the sexual tension between them, it was hard for her hormonally charged body not to react with arousal to the hungry looks he gave her. She doubted he was aware of his effect on her but didn't think he would object to her lascivious thoughts involving him. However, it wasn't the thrill that shot through her when he'd give her a predatory grin that was the cause for her concern, no, it was the tiny flutter in her chest when he'd flash a crooked smile at her that made the brightest witch worry she may not escape captivity without succumbing to Stockholm syndrome first.
—
Watching Hermione smile wasn't a novelty, in and of itself. During their many years at school together, there were several occasions Draco got to witness her smile, whether it was out of happiness from spending time with her friends, as an encouragement to classmates struggling with their studies, or in self-satisfaction when she earned points for her house. But for all those times he had seen her smile he had never been the recipient of one of those smiles, until now.
Hermione Granger wasn't as blessed in the looks department as she was in the brains, but that wasn't to say she wasn't beautiful in her own right. Despite possessing plain brown eyes and plain brown hair that he had once described as being muddy like her blood, Draco was not immune to their appeal. Shining with intelligence and a hint of mischief, Hermione's eyes were captivating, and her unruly hair beckoned to be fisted in his hands as he made her submit. Her face, usually hidden by her bushy hair, had an ageless beauty that glowed unaided by glamour spells despite the toll the pregnancy was taking on her body. And while she did not possess the kind of lusty curves desirable to most wizards, the graceful curve of her swan-like neck was enough to inspire lust in him.
There were other qualities Hermione Granger embodied that, both, wizard and wolf could appreciate. She was intelligent to a degree most would find intimidating. She was brave, not lacking in either physical or moral courage. She was loyal to a fault, a trait he had always assigned high value to. And despite her slender built, which would be considered fragile by the pack's standards, there was an underlying strength to the witch that went beyond bone and sinew, even beyond magic, to the very core of her spirit that had his wolf panting after her. All these qualities he now found so attractive in her were ones she'd always possessed, but blinded by prejudice he would have gone through life thinking of her as nothing more than jumped-up Mudblood Granger if lycanthropy had not caused the scales to drop from his eyes, letting him finally, truly, see her.
Draco wasn't sure where they currently stood in their relationship. They weren't strangers, and with her carrying his children, they could not be enemies anymore, but they weren't exactly friends either. They were friendly with each other, but even though he spent time with her nearly every day, he didn't know what she actually thought of him. That said, he didn't need to be a legilimens to know that, at least physically, she desired him. When she was aroused, her lustful thoughts were clearly written all over her face anytime she looked his way.
He knew she was a capable liar, having witnessed her lie convincingly to Umbridge before delivering her to the centaurs. That was back when they were kids, before they were forged by the flames of war. He took it as a positive sign that she wasn't bothering to mask her lust from him, but he was hesitant to act on the unspoken invitation. As pleasant as their interactions were, Draco was not foolish enough to forget she was a prisoner. Attempts to play nice and form a bond with any of her jailers could simply be a matter of survival for her. So on days she smelled particularly aroused he kept his distance from her, lest he succumb to the temptation.
It didn't bother Draco that she was most likely trying to manipulate him, anyone would do the same in her place. He was just relieved to get the chance to show her the man he had turned into and see for herself that he was capable of caring for her. For the most part, he respected her space. He never entered her room, except for that time when she had nearly passed out from the painful spasms of the twins growth spurt. However, with his eager wolf constantly hounding him, he could not resist touching her altogether. It gave him some confidence that even though she was aware of his subtle touches she never told him off or even commented on it.
Draco treated Hermione with the same patience and care he would have once shown towards a complicated potion, while he waited for her to come around. They were living in times of great strife, belonging to opposite factions didn't make things any easier, but whatever the outcome of the war, they were now bound together by their unborn babies, their lives and futures forever entwined, whether she realised it or not.
"—could've sworn I saw Potter's Mudblood pass by."
"That's her all right. The Dark Lord has special plans for her."
"I've seen her. Looks like she's carrying Potter's bastard, isn't she? That should force the rat out of hiding."
"Not Potter, would you believe it's the wolves that knocked her up."
"Utter rot, mate! Unless she's a werewolf, there's no way that's possible."
"Got that right, Lucas. She may be an animal like the rest of her kind, but she's not one of these mutts."
"Careful Rhys, they've got some sharp ears."
"They wouldn't dare touch one of us Black Cloaks."
"Maybe, but we're in their territory and outnumbered. Try to keep your stupidity in check."
"Whatever. Point is there's no way a wolf got her up the duff."
"Oi! Are you two blind or just stupid? Haven't you been paying attention to what goes on in the dungeons?"
"Yeah, but that's different, innit? I mean, they're all werewolves."
"Sure, but you know they're not just experimenting with wolves. They've got other sites with other creatures as well. Heard they've even got giants..."
"I thought those were just rumours. Are you saying you-know-who is trying to mix some of these beasts to create something new?"
"Not something new. Maybe just something better?"
"Still sounds farfetched to me."
"Yeah, and it's not like we've seen anything come off it either."
"Waste of time, if anyone bothered to ask me."
"Well no one did, so you can shut up, Mitch. I'd rather be here than on some overseas mission."
"But we're missing all the action, Nick. I mean we could be out there exterminating Mudbloods, making some galleons."
"How you've survived this long being as stupid as you are, I haven't a clue. And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Nick, you low class piece of—"
"Put your wand away, Nicholas. Mitch may be a bit touched in the head but he's still one of us and that makes him an elite in this world."
"What's with all of you gangin' up on me? I've spoken nothin' but the truth!"
"You don't seriously believe everything you read in the Prophet?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"Can't you tell the difference between news and propaganda, you twit?"
"How aboutchu speak plainly so I have a clue whatchu on about 'fore you go callin' me names?"
"Sheldon and Nicholas are saying that only a fool would believe all the propaganda that's been published about our missions overseas."
"It still don't make sense to me. Are you sayin' we haven't nearly taken over the Bulgarian Ministry?"
"Far from it, we've received quite the walloping in both our campaigns to overthrow their government."
"Bollocks!"
"It's true, mate. My brother was part of the push they made a coupla months ago. He said it was brutal—a carnage, he called it. We ended up injuring so many of our own side... They'd be foolish to make another attempt anytime soon."
"Come on fellas, you're tryna put one over on me, eh? Bulgaria's nothin' compared to England, we'd have taken over easy."
"We're saying, it's all lies about us winning in Bulgaria ...or anywhere else for that matter. It's just something to keep our morale up and the public cowed down—Don't want them getting any ideas."
"Yes. We didn't have to fight an all out war in England so it was easier. Probably why Lords Nott and Malfoy imagined they could make a direct play for Bulgaria."
"You know the tests going on here relates to their loss there, right?"
"In what way?"
"The wolves are stronger and make for great cannon fodder in the battlefield, but they have a special kind of magic, some kind of telepathic bond with their kind that helps them sense each other even in a crowd."
"Yes, I've heard of it. It's why they never accidentally kill one of their own in battle."
"See, the Bulgarians have an advantage over us, they're quite militaristic, with a majority of their witches and wizards part of the militia. They don't have the same struggles in battle that we do."
"And, they have the home ground advantage."
"Yes, that too. So the Dark Lord wants to harness the magic of the wolves to get us the same advantages as the wolves. Basically, they're trying to weaponise some aspects of lycanthropy."
"Merlin and Morgana! Is that why they were sawing through that one's skull... to study it? I was so grateful to have not been picked to do the job I didn't bother to ask why."
"Don't know about you, Mitch and Gary, but I'm more than a little relieved to know there's a point to the things we've been doing in the dungeons. I was under the impression it was simply a few bored senior Death Eaters trying to amuse themselves—You'll know what I'm talking about if you were invited to any of the recent revels... It gets... creepy."
"The revels are less fun now, more shock and gore."
"I know what you mean. Call me simple, but I long for the days when a revel meant shagging a fit Halfblood and using an imperio to make the ugly ones do silly things for laughs."
"That was some funny shite back then. Nowadays it's all fuck-them-up-the-arse and string-them-by-the-intestines."
"As much as I'd like to stick around here listening to you dummies get a clue, duty beckons. Clifford, Sheldon and I need to get to the portkey point before Parkinson arrives."
"What's Parkinson doing here? I've never known him to visit Bleidd—"
"Not Lord Parkinson. Got an owl from his daughter saying she's coming over."
"I didn't know she was a Death Eater."
"Well then, add that to the list of important things you don't know."
"Why is she important in any way?"
"For starters, she's one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—"
"That's a real Pureblood princess right there."
"—and if that isn't enough, she's also one of the original Junior Death Eaters."
"Joined right after Malfoy's and Nott's boys, didn't she?"
"That's right. But daddy Parkinson packed her off to the Americas soon after she finished school."
"So how come she's back now?"
"That should be obvious, I'd think. Britain's pretty stable now compared to some years ago. We pretty much control everything, and the resistance is good as dead. Come to think of it, with the exception of Potter's Mudblood, I can't remember the last we came across any members of the Order."
"You must've missed the revel that took place in Godric's Hollow then... That one was a real beauty—"
"Forget the revel. I wanna hear more 'bout the Parkinson—"
"Our current state of affairs has nothing to do with her return, you dimwits. It's because of the order."
"What Order? They've been nearly beaten out of existence."
"What? No, not The Order of the Phoenix. I realise we're insulated here to a certain degree, and the Daily Prophet is no longer a reliable source of news, but surely you have other sources to keep yourselves apprised of the goings on in our society?! I was referring to you-know-who's latest order asking Purebloods to marry and have kids."
"I heard about it, just didn't bother with the implications. It's not like I have any prospects, do I?"
"Same here. With Pureblood women being as scarce as they are, I doubt any of them will want to settle for a poor Black Cloak like me. And since it's illegal to have a child with a Halfblood, I don't see any reason to concern myself with the new law."
"So, Sheldon, you think Parkinson's back to marry?"
"Seems more likely that her father wanted her to return to arrange a union with one of the old wizarding families of England."
"So why is she coming to Bleidd?"
"Her owl didn't state her purpose. I imagine she's just doing a tour of all the strongholds."
"Heh! Wonder how she'll take the news that her old pal was the one to knock up the Mudblood."
"Which pal?"
"The Malfoy brat."
"Thought you said it was one of the wolves that put a bun in her oven?"
"He's right, mate. Malfoy's lad is one of them now."
"You don't say! But he's like, I mean, isn't he royalty or somethin', being a Malfoy and all?"
"I believe they'd rather keep it quiet where the general public is concerned, out of consideration for Lord Malfoy's high standing, but the Dark Lord had the younger Malfoy punished by having one of the werewolves bite him. They expected him to die, weak thing that he was, but apparently he surprised everyone by surviving."
"Sounds like a porky pie to me."
"My father is close friends with Walden Macnair, who was present when this took place. I have no reason to doubt the word of either of those men."
"Hang on. Do you mean to tell me that the big bloke usually keeping guard over Potter's Mudblood, who looks so much like Lucius Malfoy, is actually Lord Malfoy's son?"
"That's the one."
"Blimey!"
"You can say that again. I had no idea either."
"Made a werewolf and then made to breed a Mudblood..."
"That is one long fall from grace, boyo."
"That's a lesson, right there. Best not give the bosses any reason to get mad at us."
"Agreed. If they could that to someone with such high-ranking—"
"—can't imagine what they'd do to one of us."
"Absolutely. Keep your mouth shut and follow orders."
"Come on, we really do need to get going now if we don't want to be late."
Hermione drew her knees closer to her body, sitting still on the stone floor, despite knowing she was concealed from the view of both, the group of Death Eaters departing, as well as the ones still chatting out on the balcony. There was also no risk of them bumping into her when they left as the entryway connected to a corridor that would lead them to a different wing of the castle, away from where she currently sat in a crouch below one of the large windows that looked out on the balcony.
With the departure of the more intelligent three from the group, the discourse had reduced to nothing but useless banter. Hermione hoped they would leave before Zoey returned and observed her position in relation to the group of chatty Death Eaters. After the reprimand from Cora, Zoey was undoubtedly reporting everything related to Hermione.
This wasn't Hermione's first attempt to listen in on a conversation around the castle, so when on her way to the courtyard she happened to catch a glimpse of a group of six to eight Death Eaters talking outside it was easy enough for her to pull the old trick on Zoey. The old trick basically involved pretending to be too tired or sick to move, then making Zoey leave to fetch her something, water, potion, extra clothing... so she could eavesdrop on whoever was talking. While simple, it was easy to execute for two reasons: Zoey believed Hermione was weak, and Zoey feared the consequences to her own health if something happened to Hermione on her watch. Were it Malfoy accompanying her today, it would never have worked as he would not have left her alone. If he believed she was feeling poorly, he would have picked her up and marched straight to the mediwitch.
Now even though Hermione had a sound routine to divert Zoey when she had an opportunity to spy on the other inhabitants of the castle, nothing had come of it so far. The werewolves always sensed her presence and moved away and the few Death Eaters she had spied on did little more than confirm that they had grown more sadistic as they felt emboldened to openly practice their bigotry. In comparison, the bounty of information she had unearthed in a single conversation today, felt like hitting the jackpot, making up for all previous disappointments. To say it had been enlightening would be putting it mildly. She would need time to assign context to everything she had heard in order to properly process it all, but the one piece of information that stood out above the rest was the news that Voldemort's armies had failed abroad. It gave her the hope she desperately needed to believe that they might win after all.
While the Order spent the last few years trying to find and destroy the horcruxes, the Death Eaters strengthened their hold over wizarding Britain, altering it in ways that it would take years after Voldemort's fall to reverse the damage and truly reclaim their society once more. Due to limited resources, they were unable to keep the Death Eaters in check, who were rapidly growing their numbers to a point where there was mounting concern that even if they managed to defeat Voldemort, the Death Eaters would still emerge victorious in the war.
Ever since Voldemort's minions wrangled control of the Ministry, overseas travel was strictly controlled and closely monitored, making it impossible for members of the Order to slip past the lines and look for allies in other wizarding communities. Unfortunately, as Hermione discovered today, like so many others they too had bought into Voldemort's propaganda about his successes abroad. Order leadership had discussed the matter at length before concluding that they would be risking exposure if they attempted to reach out to their counterparts outside of Britain, and in vain too, as no one was likely to help if the rest of the world was also engaged in a fight for survival with no resources to spare.
However, if they were all lies it was possible for the Order to get help from outside, provided they could offer their prospective allies an incentive to do so. Hardened by the struggle and strife of the last five or so years of her life since Hogwarts, Hermione was no longer the bright-eyed witch who believed that people could be convinced to do the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do. The Order would need to come up with the right incentive to convince others to join them in their fight.
The one benefit of being a captive, thought Hermione, was all the free time she had to figure out a way to put to use everything she had learnt today.
"You filthy whore!"
Though her cheek stung, she instinctively thrust an arm out in time to keep her head from cracking against the floor while the other wrapped protectively around the bulge of her stomach. It was the unexpectedness of the slap more than its force that caused her to lose her balance and fall.
"Not only did you trick my Draco into fucking your slaggy cunt, but you went and got yourself pregnant," shrieked Pansy Parkinson.
Hermione blinked in amazement, "You think I wanted any of this?"
"Who cares what a Mudblood whore like you wants; I have no intention of letting some two-knut slapper replace me as the next Lady Malfoy just because she managed to get herself knocked up with Draco's babies," Pansy cried out.
"So, abort them," Hermione said tonelessly.
She always knew Parkinson had a blind spot when it came to Malfoy, she just had never realised how large it was. It would take a tremendous amount of denial for any woman to believe she was the aggressor in this situation. It was odd that Parkinson expected to become the next Lady Malfoy by hitching her wagon to Malfoy. Was it possible she had not heard about Malfoy's condition? Hermione would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if she didn't also find it pathetic.
Parkinson drew her wand and pointed it at Hermione's abdomen; from the speculative look in her eyes as they narrowed in focus on her, Parkinson was most likely doing a mental run-through of her limited inventory of spells to figure out which one would most suit her purpose.
"Pans, what do you think you're doing?" asked Malfoy, sauntering in like he was still the Slytherin Prince at Hogwarts. He didn't fool her; she'd seen how the Death Eaters treated him now. To his credit, Malfoy never reacted to any of the taunts or jeers the Death Eaters threw his way; he appeared to have developed a thick skin, in more ways than one, since turning into a werewolf.
"Oh Drakie-poo," cooed Pansy flying to Malfoy and throwing her arms around his neck. For his part, Malfoy stood rigidly, pulling his head back before she could assault his lips.
"Pansy, what are you doing here?" he asked again, looking every bit peeved, as he dragged her hands away from his neck.
"I came to see you, silly," Parkinson said, pushing her chest out suggestively. "I went to Malfoy Manor soon as I returned to England. I didn't realise how much I'd missed the place till I stepped into the Manor... felt like I'd returned home. I was so excitedly looking forward to being reunited with you, but you weren't around," she whined. "Like you, Lucius was away on a mission, but Narcissa was at home. We had such a lovely time talking about my stay in America. You know, I really believe I impressed your mother with how sophisticated I've become now. More than once she said to me, 'Pansy, darling, you must tell me this story another time,' and I got the sense she was expecting that she and I would be spending a lot of time in the near future."
Hermione stared at Parkinson. Had the witch taken one too many falls from the broom, did she not realise how delusional she sounded?
"So mother told you I could be found here?"
"Well, not immediately. She was oddly tight-lipped about your mission and whereabouts. But you know how persistent I can be when I want something, darling. No one can refuse me for too long," said Parkinson flashing him a smug smile.
"I decided to pay you a surprise visit today but I got held up by the stupid Black Cloaks who thought I'd care to know their business here. Bored me to death with all kinds of reports. Then one of them mentions you, tells me all about what the Mudblood did to you—Oh Draco! My poor darling, how terrible it's been for you. Tricked and taken advantage of by this muddy skank. I can't imagine how you've suffered... But don't worry. I'm here now. Together, we'll fix this mess."
Hermione was certain Malfoy was just as amused as she was by Parkinson's version of the events that had transpired between them.
Without caring that Hermione was in the room, Pansy tore off her robes, revealing a completely naked body beneath.
"I'm here for you, my love. Take me. Fuck your beautiful babies into me."
Pansy may have a pug-face but the stunning built of her body certainly justified the level of confidence she possessed to stand starkers before them. Malfoy didn't look impressed. He reacted by swatting away Pansy's hand as it reached for his genitals.
"Pans, does your father know you're visiting me?"
Pansy shook her head. "No, daddy doesn't know. I thought I'd give him a surprise when the two of us showed up together, engaged," said Pansy clapping her hands in delight.
"Has no one updated you on my current status?"
"I may have been out of England but I followed the society papers closely. I know you're not married or even engaged yet. You've been waiting for me all this time just as I—"
"So, I take it no one told you I'm a werewolf now?"
"Wer-wer-werewolf?!" Parkinson stuttered in shock.
"Pansy, it looks like you've been labouring under a few delusions. As your friend let me clear some of them for you." Malfoy spoke calmly, with the kind of no nonsense undertone to his voice that made one sit up and pay attention.
"First of all, I'm no longer the Malfoy heir. Second, Hermione is not a skank. Lastly, and this one's the most important one," Malfoy body language abruptly changed from friendly to threatening, "if I ever even hear about you pointing your wand to threaten my unborn children again, I will forget we were ever friends."
He gave her a couple of moments to allow his words to sink in.
"Nod, if you understand, Pans."
Parkinson nodded, threw Hermione a dirty look, picked up her discarded robes and, without even bothering to get dressed first, walked out with her head held high.
"I apologise for my negligence. Pansy should not have been able to reach you. I'm sorry you had to listen to her insult you like that."
Hermione looked away from Parkinson's retreating figure to Malfoy who was suddenly in front of her. Considering he had yet to apologise for any of his loathsome behaviour towards her during their Hogwarts years, which was far worse than Parkinson's just now, it was surreal to hear him apologise for Parkinson's ridiculous display. Add in the fact she was currently his prisoner, someone he had technically raped and gotten pregnant, his reason for apologising struck her as downright silly.
She shrugged. This hardly mattered. She made to move past him but stopped when he put his hand on her arm.
"Did you mean it... about aborting the babies?" His voice sounded strained, like the thought pained him.
"Would it be that surprising if I did?" she countered. What did he expect, that she would welcome being pregnant with twins with her former bully, who now on top of being a Death Eater was also a werewolf?
"No. No, I suppose not. It's just, I thought—See, I didn't think you'd ever consider doing such a thing."
Instead of the anger she expected, there was a vulnerability in his voice that shattered her defences.
"No, of course I wouldn't," she sighed. "I'm just so all over the place with the pregnancy and Parkinson really pissed me off with her accusations."
She gingerly touched her cheek and winced at how much the slap still stung. From the way Malfoy glared at her cheek, she must have been sporting a bruise by now.
"Did she do that you?" he demanded.
He looked mad enough to commit murder. Worried about what he may do, she merely nodded.
"By Salazar, I'm going to—"
She grabbed his hand.
"No, wait. Stop."
He looked down at her hand touching him and then at her.
Merlin, thought Hermione, catching the ravenous look that flashed across his face. It made her insides feel funny. She again cursed the pregnancy hormones that left her feeling randy at the oddest of moments but did not move her hand away.
"I think you've already made your point. I doubt she'll bother me again," she said and grinned when she recalled Parkinson's failed attempt at seduction.
Malfoy, still fussing over her injury, could not have known why she was grinning. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, regarding her as if he thought she had gone mad. Her grin widened in mischief before she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer in an imitation of what Pansy had done earlier.
"Oooh, Drakie Poo, I've missed you. Please take me now!" Hermione screeched before bursting into a fit of giggles. It took her a few minutes to notice he wasn't laughing with her, but was watching her curiously while holding her by the waist.
Suddenly her arms around his neck felt awkward.
"I know you're only joking, but I should warn you about the effect it has on me to hear you say such things," said Malfoy, looking about as serious as a heart attack. "You know," he lowered his voice to a seductive whisper forcing her to lean in to hear him clearly. "I can help with those cravings you have. You probably don't realise it, but even standing outside I can smell you when you do. You can come to me anytime you like. I'm here, I won't ever turn you away and I'm not asking for anything in return."
Hermione licked her lips, tempted by what he was offering even as she was embarrassed he could smell her during the times she was feeling randy.
"You don't have to say anything. Just know I'm here, Granger. I'll take care of you," he promised. "You and the pups," he assured with a light caress to her baby bump.