Chapter Nine
Blessedly, Hermione had no more heart-wrenching memories by the time she'd awoken again. Snuggled securely against Thorfinn, she refused to move, only staring toward the window, the lightening of the sky outside faintly visible through the heavy drapes.
She hated that he was so comfortable. Actually, no, she didn't.
Her lips pursed, she tilted her head against his chest to peer up into his sleeping face. God, he really was annoyingly pretty. What she hated about the fact that she found him so comfortable was how easy it became to forget the utter weirdness of their circumstances. He was a stranger, and yet he wasn't. She'd known him all of two days, and yet had known him since she was five years old.
Impossible, all of it. And yet, it was real.
She wasn't truly thinking it through as she lifted her hand, stroking the pad of her thumb along his lower lip.
Thorfinn rumbled out a sleepy sound and opened his eyes in a series of quick blinks. "God," he started with a smirk as she went on with that gentle, curious touch. "It's really morning now, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, snickering softly. "Unfortunately."
His brow furrowed as he watched her expression. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I think I remembered all my mind was going to handle for one night. Dear Lord, it's going to be a rough few weeks, at least, if my memories always hit when I'm sleeping." She pouted, aware how much better rested she'd felt, how quickly soothed she'd been by his familiar presence when she'd awoken. "Don't suppose you'd have any argument about me treating you like an oversized teddy bear?"
A chuckle bubbled out of him. "Oh? You want to use me for nighttime cuddles, that it?"
She shrugged, nodding.
"Oi! I am not just a piece of meat." Yet his admonishment had a tone of teasing to it.
"No, but you are the man my parents thought was good enough for me to marry," she said, once more shrugging.
"Suddenly sold on the whole betrothal business, now, are you?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Admit it, you only want me to warm your bed."
Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "I'm not 'suddenly sold' on anything, nor am I thinking of you as a bed-warmer, you useless barbarian boy."
He let out a scoffing sound and feigned a look of pain. "That still hurts, you know."
She ignored his silliness. "What I'm saying is even with my patchy memories, there's part of me that recognizes you as a constant, you know? Even though we were kept apart for a time, I've still known you since we were children. There's a sense of—this is going to sound so strange, given our situation—normalcy when you're around. It's comforting when I wake up from some tragic memory and you're there beside me. I won't pretend like I'm completely okay with that, but honestly, I feel like I'm reaching for anything that will help make this not so traumatic."
"So I go from being a bed-warming, oversized teddy bear to being 'anything'? You are shameless, aren't you?"
Again, she found herself laughing and she sat up against him just enough to slap lightly at his chest. "Can you ever stop joking?"
"No, I can't." He shrugged, folding one arm behind his head as he held her gaze. "At least not when you're so serious. You are serious enough for the both of us about seventy-five percent of the time, from what I've observed. If you don't have someone to poke fun through all that, you're going to drive yourself mad."
Just like when he showed jealousy about Draco, her heart warmed as she considered his words. As she considered the look in those familiar blue eyes while he spoke.
"You actually care?"
He frowned and pointedly looked away. "Not answering that."
She breathed a snicker at his petulant tone. "You do! You care about me!"
"Oh, shut it, spoiled brat."
"I am not." Oh, he was picking a fight again, she could tell, but she couldn't help snapping back at him.
"You may not be just now, but you certainly were when we were little." His hand slid around the back of her neck and he pulled her close, his breath ghosting over her lips as he said, "And you might be again, in a very different way, if you ever let me."
She allowed him to hold her there like that for a few heartbeats. "I just might, but maybe we should actually get to know each other a little better, as adults—as the people we are now—before any of that."
He shrugged, nipping at her lips. "We could wait, but . . . what if we do that and we end up hating each other?"
"So, you're saying the reason to let 'things' happen now, before we actually know each other, is because if we wait, we might decide we don't like one another enough to do it later?"
"Makes sense to me."
"Of course it does," she said, laughing and shaking her head.
His fingers had slid up into her hair, and he was dragging the tips of his fingernails ever so lightly against her scalp in circles. He watched her eyelids droop, listened to the small rumbling sound in the back of her throat.
"You're evil." Her voice escaped her in a breathless whisper.
"Hello? Death Eater," he answered with a chuckle.
She seemed immobilized by what he was doing—and he wasn't even doing all that much!—and he realized that she probably thought that if she spoke up, he might stop.
He lowered his head, bringing his lips to her throat. Trailing his free hand along her side, he tugged at the hem of her night shirt, just a little, testing if she was going to stop him.
The feel of his mouth skimming her pulse, of his fingers tickling up beneath her shirt to explore her bare skin sent a shiver through her. Pressed to him like this, she was very aware of the way he was setting off a sweet, throbbing little ache between her thighs.
He was right, she realized. It was a bit like she'd explained to Harry. How knowing someone too well could make getting . . . too familiar ruin things. In that respect, the man who was currently slipping his hand upward to cup her breast and teasingly pluck at her nipple was perfect. She knew him, and yet she didn't.
And perhaps this was something she needed in the midst of all this. A few precious moments of mindless bliss, when she didn't have to think on what a chaotic shamble her life had become so quickly—was bound to become even more so as she learned further truths about her past, as those truths would eventually be made public.
"Okay."
He snickered against her ear. "Okay, what?"
"Okay, I'll let you spoil me."
Thorfinn pulled back, leaning into the pillow as he stared up at her. He'd thought for certain she was going to stop them again in just a few minutes as she had back in her Muggle home, so he could not help the caution in his tone as he asked, "You're serious?"
She nodded. "You had a valid point. We're clearly attracted to each other, and if we get to know one another better but don't like what we find, nothing more will come of that."
"Not to defeat my own purpose," he said, rolling over to pin her beneath him, "but there is something to be said for hate-sex."
"Well, we'll look into that if we end up hating each other in the future. As for right now? I don't quite mind you so much." She smirked when he graced her quip with a chuckle. "And I believe you were about to start spoiling me?"
Thorfinn wasted little time, his mouth capturing hers in a rough kiss as he started undressing her. He became aware, almost instantly, of her hands moving over him to tug at his nightclothes.
Breaking the kiss, he caught her wrists in one hand and pulled her arms up over her head.
"What are you doing?"
He frowned at her and shook his head. "I believe I am supposed to be spoiling you, that means you are not to do a thing."
Her brows shot up. "You're . . . you're serious? You except me to what? Just lie here?"
Well, she really was accustomed to not letting anyone do for her, so to speak, was she?
Once more shaking his head, he snatched up his wand from the bedside table. Pressing her wrists to the base of the headboard, he secured them there with a sticking charm.
"There," he said with a nod as he put the weapon back down and returned his attention to her. He let a sigh rumble out of him as he looked her over. At least he'd gotten her down to her knickers before she started this nonsense. "And I'm not dispelling it until you've been well and truly spoiled."
Leaning close again, he started trailing his fingers down her skin—over her breasts, along her sides, tickling across her hips—as he traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. "You may be unaware of this fact, but Viking men take the responsibility, and the honor, of keeping their wives happy very seriously."
She struggled to make her expression stern, even as he slipped his fingers into the sides of her knickers and began pulling them down over her thighs. "We are not married, Thorfinn."
He crinkled the bridge of his nose at her as he smiled. "I am aware, thank you. But if someday we ever do decide to commit to that ludicrous betrothal—" as he spoke, he bent her knees up, in turn, removing the undergarment from her and tossing it aside—"we can consider this a sort of test run."
He pressed against her as he lowered his mouth to her throat. The steady feel of his body between her thighs as he kissed a path down her skin, pausing at her breasts to take one nipple into his mouth as he caught the other in rough, teasing pinches had her writhing beneath him.
Thorfinn breathed a snicker against her as he moved lower, still, nipping the soft skin around her navel. "Not any good at not doing anything, are you?"
She jerked her hips, pressing herself more tightly to him. A little shudder coursed through her and she uttered a soft groan in the back of her throat. "Can't help it," she said, her gaze fixed on his as she repeated the action. "I'm not exactly the shrinking violet sort, and you've bound me so this is really all I can do."
"And I'm not moving fast enough for you, is that it?" He lowered his voice to a gravely pitch, aware her own movements against him were making her wet. "Did you just expect me to throw you down and bury my face between your thighs?"
Dear Lord, she thought, he really did know what he was doing. Only a few minutes had passed, he'd not even done much of anything, yet that sweet ache crawling through her was already so intense she honestly wanted him to just shag her already and give them both blessed release.
"Maybe something along those lines," she answered, her words spilling out breathless.
"I'm not a fan of rushing." He leaned back from her. Sitting up, he pressed his hand her thighs, working against her rocking motions. "Me? I like the buildup."
"You misunderstand me, Thorfinn." She had to remind herself to breathe with the way he was looking at her, with the way his hand was pressing against her, an escalating rhythm going faster and faster before slowing again, maddeningly bringing her closer to the edge and then easing her back down before she could get there. He really was evil. "With what you're . . . with what you're showing me already, I think there's nothing more I'd like then for you to take all the time in the world spoiling me rotten, but it occurs to me . . . we're not exactly alone in this house, and we've no idea when our gracious hosts might think to come and wake us."
He winced, pressing hard and she rewarded him with another of those throaty moans of hers. "I hate to say this, but you do have a point. Still not a fan of speed-spoiling, but I'll try anything once."
"Just once?"
A wicked smirk curved Thorfinn's lips as he pulled his hand away and moved back along the bed. "I was referring to the speedy part."
Hermione clamped her lips shut, keeping in a cry of shocked delight as he—just as he said—buried his mouth between her thighs. She wanted to watch him, wanted to see those blue eyes close as he feasted on her, but her head was falling back against the pillow, her eyelids drifting closed of their own volition. He suckled and nipped at her, and her body responded instantly, her hips rocking beneath him once more as delicious shivers ran along her limbs.
He was tempted to tease her more, to pull back and watch her face as he stroked over her with his fingers, but she'd been right. They should save extended fun for when they knew for certain there would be no interruptions.
She felt the brush of fabric against her skin and she opened her eyes a little, only vaguely aware of anything besides Thorfinn's mouth drawing on her. Looking down along her own body, she saw the most lovely sight—he was stripping off his nightclothes and tossing them to the floor while he swirled the tip of his tongue against her. As she thought, his eyes had closed, and he looked absolutely lost in the taste of her.
Again, her breath caught in her throat. This time, it was as the orgasm crashed over her. She managed to keep from screaming, instead his name slipped out in a breathless tumble of sound. Her arms being pinned was infuriating, she wanted to reach for him, to feel her fingers curling in his hair as she came, her taut muscles trembling.
He nursed her through it, slowing that suckling pressure only when it ebbed and he could feel her relax beneath him. He didn't give her the chance to ride out the aftershocks against his tongue.
Pulling back, he shifted to sit on his knees, his eyes again locking with hers. He positioned himself, entering her hard and fast. Still with that orgasm winding out of her, she bit back a scream even as she lifted herself toward him, and he couldn't help but chuckle.
He slipped his hands around her ankles as he thrust his hips, moving into her and withdrawing again and again. Leaning over her, he guided her legs to wrap around him before bracing his palms on either side of her on the mattress.
She struggled to catch her breath as she moved against him, meeting his strokes. "Next time . . . next time, you're not pinning me down like this, you hear me?"
A smirk plucked at one corner of his mouth. "Want to touch me that bad, do you?"
Hermione gasped as he quickened his pace, clearly taking the dread of some impending interruption seriously. "Quite frankly, yes." She let her gaze flick down all those lovely muscled lines to where their bodies met. "I like to get 'handsy.'"
"Oh?" he breathed a chuckle with the word, a deep rumbling sound working its way out of the back of his throat. "I'll keep that in mind for the future."
"Slow, spoiling, handsy, sounds like a plan," she said before clamping her lips together. She felt herself tensing all over again, his deep, grinding motions becoming harder, the rhythm turning unsteady and jerking.
He bit hard into his lower lip and dropped his head down as he froze, spending himself while she came.
She had never been more aware of anything in her life than she was of the feel of him sealed tight against her, of the way her body gripped tight around him as tremors wracked them both.
He lowered to balance his weight on his elbows, laying lightly against her while they caught their breath as that blissful spiraling ebbed.
For a long while, she only listened to the deep rumbling of the inhalations in his chest. She was content not to move, even as her body quivered a little, alerting her to the fact that he'd not withdrawn, yet.
He lazily reached over, grabbing up his wand for just long enough to dispel the sticking charm. After setting it aside, again, he looked at her very seriously.
"What?" she asked, her eyelids sweeping down in slow, drowsy blinks as her breathing started to even out.
Thorfinn shrugged. He eased himself out of her and turned to lay on his back. "I was just thinking . . . we could probably do with more sleep."
Hermione ran through in her head all the things that she had to do, all the things she could think to do. Meeting his gaze, she nodded. "Actually, more sleep sounds amazing."
She pressed herself into his side, dropping her head against the hollow of his shoulder as he pulled the quilt up over them, hiding them almost completely from view of anyone who might open the door.
Narcissa stepped back, pulling the door closed with a wince on her delicate features. "They're still sleeping. We should let them be," she said with a nod.
She turned on her heel and started leading her family back down the corridor toward the staircase. It was time for breakfast, but she would imagine they needed the rest, even as she pretended she hadn't seen their nightclothes strewn across the floor and the pair in the bed, snuggled up together as they were, both snoring deeply, like they were recovering from some . . . strenuous activity.
Draco might have predicted it, but she was far too much of a lady to let on that he'd been right.
