"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Draco whistled. "Are you sure you're a Gryffindor?"
Hermione rolled her eyes back at him.
Truthfully, Hermione wasn't sure of that herself. She wasn't entirely sure of anything anymore. Looking back on her recent actions, she had to agree with Draco that it did seem more like something a Slytherin would do. The thought brought a twinge of discomfort, but she chose to ignore it. She had always liked to think that being a Gryffindor didn't completely define her. The sorting hat had originally debated between placing her in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, claiming that she had the characteristics for both. Who was to say she didn't have a bit of Slytherin in her as well. And she supposed it was inevitable when one was surrounded by nothing but Slytherins on a daily basis.
Either way, Bellatrix was getting what she deserved.
Turning, she started up the stairs with both Draco and Mrs. Malfoy following after her. She was taken back by the ease with which she was able to navigate through the house, knowing exactly where everything was. A feat that she had initially thought impossible considering the manor house had over a hundred different rooms.
"Did I miss anything while I was gone?" Hermione asked. "You know, aside from what I've already learned."
Draco shrugged. "Not much, unless you count a visit from Greybeck and his troop of snatchers."
"What were they doing here?"
"They came to deliver prisoners."
Hermione came to a screeching halt. "Anyone we know?"
There was a moment of silence before Draco replied. "Dean Thomas, Dirk Cresswell and Edward Tonks were among those caught," he explained. "However, Dean was the only one that made it here alive."
A sharp gasp escaped her lips. "Edward Tonks, as in Ted Tonks? Andromeda's husband?"
Draco nodded his head.
Of course Ted would have been captured by the snatchers, being a well-known Muggleborn.
Poor Tonks. Her heart ached at the thought. She could only imagine what her and Andromeda were going through. To think that she had spent the last week living without so much as a thought for all those who were suffering as a result of this awful war. And yet, one of the first things that came to mind was how devastated she would be if it were her own husband who were to have died.
Not knowing what to think or even feel in regards to that, she forced herself to continue walking until she reached the door to her bedroom, pulling it open and stepping inside. Mrs. Malfoy followed her inside and Draco moved to do so as well, but was stopped by his mother.
"It's not proper for an unmarried wizard such as yourself to be in a married witch's bedroom," Mrs. Malfoy stated.
"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Hermione exclaimed. "You've got to be joking."
Mrs. Malfoy shook her head. "It is one of the many rules of protocol that you will have to adhere to now that you are married."
"Does the Dark Lord have to adhere to a similar rule?"
The hint of sympathy in Mrs. Malfoy's pale eyes answered her question.
Hermione pulled her gaze away. She should have known that would be the case. The purebloods always had been rather antiquated in their views. The rules that were given to women were not the same as the rules given to men. It was disgusting, and very wrong.
Draco didn't seem terribly pleased by it either, but nonetheless he conceded and stepped back out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
No sooner was he gone then Mrs. Malfoy took out her wand and cast Muffliato on the door. A sense of dread washed over Hermione as Mrs. Malfoy then took her by the hand and led her to sit down on the edge of the bed.
"I know it's not fair, believe me, but that's simply the way it is."
Hermione nodded, be it a bit stiffly.
"Regardless, that is not what I wished to speak with you about."
Hermione raised a brow, waiting for her to continue.
"Were you able to make use of the tips I gave you?"
It took her a moment to recall what she was referring to, her cheeks heating at the realization. She then understood the true reason why she had ordered her son from the room, making sure that any and all sounds were blocked out.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," she admitted. "They came in quite useful."
"And was he able to please you in return?"
She merely nodded, reminded of the fact that her knickers were still wet from his touch.
"That is good to hear." Mrs. Malfoy gave her a knowing grin. "If you should at any point notice any symptoms, or are just simply curious, do let me know and I shall perform a pregnancy reveal spell for you."
As much as she had grown to like Mrs. Malfoy, this was not exactly the type of conversation she was comfortable with having. Then again, she supposed it was better to have it with her than anyone else. It wasn't like her own mother was around to help her, a fact that brought a pang of grief to her heart.
"That won't be necessary, at least not right away," she explained. "The Dark Lord and I agreed that it's best to wait until things have settled down with the war before even thinking of children."
Mrs. Malfoy nodded her head. "Yes, I think that's wise."
Rising from her seat, Mrs. Malfoy started towards the door only to stop a few feet short. Turning back again to face her, Mrs. Malfoy furrowed her brows, her lips parting as if she was debating whether or not to say something more.
"Earlier in the hall you mentioned Andromeda as if you are familiar with her."
"Yes, I know her."
Mrs. Malfoy sighed. "I may not agree with the decision she made long ago, but I don't hate her as Bellatrix does."
It was easy to forget that they were sisters. Mrs. Malfoy looked nothing like Bellatrix or Andromeda, who happened to share many of the same physical attributes. She'd never forget how she had mistaken Andromeda for Bellatrix when she first met her. And then she'd gotten a closer look at her and realized that she was not. Her features were much kinder than her twisted sister, her hair a lighter shade of brown and her eyes, while still dark, somehow managed to hold a surprising amount of warmth.
"Of course, it goes without saying that this admission must stay strictly between us."
"Of course."
Then, with a flick of her wand, she reversed the spell on the door and continued on her way out.
"You may go in now and visit with your friend now, Draco," she heard Mrs. Malfoy say to her son in passing. "Just make sure that no one finds out."
"Yes, Mother," Draco replied.
Hermione couldn't help but smile. As much as Mrs. Malfoy lectured about adhering to rules and protocol, she certainly knew how to sneak around them as well.
Hermione was doing a bit of late night reading in bed when she felt his presence, the sudden chill hanging in the air giving him away as a puff of black smoke filtered into the room from the crack under the door.
"Hermione," his voice echoed from nowhere yet everywhere all at once.
Marking her page, she shut the book and set it aside, her eyes trailing the smoke as it made its way to her, reaching the end of the bed where it then proceeded to seep beneath the covers. Her breath hitched in her throat, coming out in jagged huffs, heat pooling in her core as she felt it wash over her, gently caressing her bare legs, trailing further and further until she could feel him lingering directly over the spot that ached with yearning for his touch.
And then he was there, hovering over her, a hint of remaining smoke lining his cloak-clad form, and for a brief moment, she found herself thinking how he resembled a dementor. Perhaps that was the effect he intended. To anyone else, it would have made them frightened at the sight of him, and perhaps she had been as well at first, but not any more.
Reaching up, she took the silky material of his hood and pulled it down, revealing the handsome face beneath that definitely did not resemble that of a dementor.
"Were you waiting for me?" Tom asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Maybe." She shrugged. "Would it please you if I was?"
"Very much so."
Tom turned his head and she followed his gaze towards the book that she had cast aside upon his return. "Lady Chatterley's Lover?" he read aloud. "I had no idea your taste in books was so… scandalous."
"It wasn't, at least not before I met you."
His gaze snapped back to her, his glowing red eyes boring into hers with such an intensity that made her shiver, and not at all in a bad way. "Is that so?"
She nodded her head, running her tongue slowly over her lower lip. "I might have had certain thoughts involving the two of us, even back in my fifth year."
"What a naughty little witch you were." His smirk widened at that, as he lowered himself so that their faces were only inches apart, his hardness brushing against her thighs. "And have I lived up to these thoughts of yours."
"You have," she admitted. "So far."
In an instant, his lips had closed the distance to claim hers, cold and smooth against hers, yet also rough and demanding at the same time. With one arm, he reached up to pin both of her arms to the headboard above her head, while the other began its journey over the swell of her breasts, kneading it for a moment before trailing down the curves of her waist. Lower and lower his hand wandered until he found the end of the light fabric of her nightgown, hiking it up in one swift move.
"I see you disposed of those knickers from before," he remarked, fingering the bare skin there. "It's just as well that you did, otherwise I would have disposed of them for you in a much more violent manner."
She had figured as much.
He pulled away just long enough to banish every last piece of his clothing, leaving him bared before her in all his glory. Unfortunately, she didn't have longer than a minute to fully appreciate him before he was on her again. His lips began to follow after his hand, pressing a series of kisses down her neck and collar bone, releasing his hold on her arms as he moved to free her breasts from the fabric. Her nipples peaked under his touch, his tongue flicking over them.
"Merlin, Tom…" Hermione moaned, her body writhing with the ache that was building intensely deep inside of her. "I need you inside of me."
"Good things come to those who wait," he teased.
She just rolled her eyes, unable to get anything other than a gasp out as he continued in his toying with her. Every time he got even remotely close, he would avert his attention elsewhere, driving her crazy with need.
"I swear, Tom, if you don't stop this game of yours soon, I will hex you!"
"Threaten me all you like," Tom chuckled, his warm breath tickling against her skin. "Believe it or not, but it actually turns me on."
Yes, she could certainly feel that.
"Tom, I-" whatever protest she had been about to voice died on her lips, swallowed up by the pleasured cry that broke through as she felt him finally enter, the width of him stretching her insides to its limits.
"Wait," she gasped out. "Spell!"
He caught on to what she meant, grabbing his wand and casting the necessary spell before discarding it on the bed next to the book.
Tom then lost any and all semblance of control over himself, pouring himself into her with rough, steady thrusts. He did not particularly care about being gentle with her, especially now that her body had gotten used to it. You might even say that she had grown to enjoy it. Everything about Tom was intense, and as overwhelming as it could be at times, it wasn't something she would want to change about him.
It was after midnight by the time they were both satiated and panting for breath. However, despite their fatigue, they didn't feel like going to sleep yet, and so they laid in bed, allowing their bodies to relax.
"Were you able to finish whatever business you went to attend to?" she asked, stroking a finger along his chest in slow, soothing circular motions. When he failed to answer her, she lifted her head to look at him. "What is it?"
"Can I trust you?"
"Why wouldn't you be able to trust me?"
"I do trust you, to an extent," he admitted with furrowed brows. "However, a part of me can't help but fear that you still have ties to your old friends."
As much as she would have liked to deny it, his lack of trust in her hit her like a knife to the heart. After everything that had happened, everything she had done to prove herself to him, he still had doubts. Though she supposed she couldn't entirely blame him for that. She couldn't say that she entirely trusted him either. What surprised her most was that a part of her wanted to trust him completely, wanted him to trust her completely as well. And yet, it seemed like some far off, unattainable goal.
"I swear to you, I haven't seen or spoken to them since they came to rescue me," she assured him. "And you know there was no way for me to have known that they'd break into Gringotts. I was with you the whole time."
"I know that." He didn't sound all that convinced.
She let out a weary sigh, lowering her head back down onto his chest, the steady thump, thump, thumping of his heart beating against her ear. "What must I do to make you stop doubting me?"
Minutes passed without a response from him. Honestly, she hadn't expected him to answer when she posed that question. She had just given up on waiting for him to say anything at all and closed her eyes, when he caught her by surprise.
"I can think of one thing…"