Draco,

I have spoken with Andromeda.

She is willing to meet.

Let me know when a good day is for you, and I will collaborate with her.

H.G.


Draco arrived outside of Hermione's flat early to do his usual routine of muttering and practicing before he was to be expected.

They had agreed a private, neutral place would be best, and Hermione had graciously volunteered her own home.

But Draco was quite nervous about this meeting. If his Black and Malfoy side could see him now, pacing outside the residence of his… friend? No, not personal enough. Fuck buddy? No, too impersonal. Whatever they were, if his ancestors could see that he was resorting to getting help from a muggleborn to meet his 'blood traitor' aunt, he'd be utterly disgraced.

But, then again, he'd done plenty more to disappoint them as it were.

After quite a while of thinking and moping outside of her home, he began to feel self-conscious that Hermione's neighbors might report a loose Dementor afoot, so he conceded to finally walk up the stairs.

Maybe if he was early enough still, Hermione might give him a shag to calm his nerves.

That's what they did, right?

Merlin, my life is a mess, he thought.

When he knocked at a quarter til the meeting time, he was surprised to be greeted, not by Hermione, but by someone who looked a great deal like his mother and Bellatrix Lestrange all in one.

He froze at the sight, caught somewhere between a dream of his mother appearing whole and well, and a nightmare of a monster he thought he would never see again.

The woman must have noticed his shock.

"Draco," she said, and it might have been one of the kindest voices he ever heard.

She moved towards him and wrapped him in a hug, "I always wanted to know you," she said.

He stood rooted in place, taken aback by the expression, and very aware that his eyes had begun to burn.

He didn't know this woman from a muggle, but he could sense it.

Magic deep and old.

It was more pure than blood, stronger than simple family bonds.

It was love.

She loved him, he knew it.

For nothing he'd done. For no other reason besides he existed.


Hermione's apartment was slightly smaller than his, and as one might expect, books could be seen in every corner. Draco also noted various devices he did not recognize peppering the walls, surfaces, and kitchen counters.

Muggle things , he thought.

The sight amused him, a witch like her— as powerful as she was, still desired such things.

Draco wasn't sure if it was a kneazle or cat, but a large mass of orange fur was curled up in a nearby arm chair. It watched him suspiciously as he ventured into the flat.

Hermione entered from a hall to the right and stopped short. Of course she expected him there, she had invited him after all, but he couldn't help to think that the sight of him in her space unnerved her a little. He simply nodded at her, unsure what else to do.

Their gaze at each other was broken by Andromeda who said, "Draco," the younger witch and wizard turned their heads to her, "Hermione tells me that Narcissa… that my sister could use my help."

Hermione took this as her cue and jumped right in to explaining Draco's plight.

"As I told you, I've read a lot about love magic and its protective factors. Obviously, it was a huge concept I wanted to understand because of its use in the war…" Hermione looked to Draco, "We know Narcissa wielded it. And, as we also see with her, the flip side of love… grief seems to have taken on its own unique protective factors within her."

Draco shifted uncomfortably and Hermione continued, "And at the risk of sounding like a cliche… I think her heart is broken."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment before speaking again, "Obviously this isn't a simple fix, but I think it would be helpful, if you are willing, Andromeda… to see her. Speak with her. I think bringing the two of you together could reverse some of the barriers she has up, possibly help with her state."

"What makes you think she would want to see me?" Andromeda asked. There was a bitterness in her tone.

"She asked," Draco interjected, "She isn't in a state to come to you herself. I understand going into our… home is not ideal. Even I don't know the depth of the fall out between you two. Regardless, I am sure my mother has many things to apologize for once she is herself again."

Andromeda gave Draco a heavy-lidded look, and her brows wrinkled in thought.

The expression reminded him of his mother's other sister, Bellatrix, and something instinctual made his body take a protective step towards Hermione.

His mind raced. Draco felt the beating of his heart quicken in his ears, like at any moment someone in this room might curse him. Andromeda and Hermione both had plenty of reasons to want to, after all. He felt his eyes widen and he knew he must look mad.

The movement made the women stiffen, and he was suddenly aware of the stretching of his fingers as they craved the comfort of his wand.

The actions and thoughts weren't logical, of course.

Rivington had told him he would most likely have these reactions his whole life, small things that could trigger his body into self preservation, even if it wasn't needed.

Like when flashes of red made him think he was seeing blood, or when the sound of birds chirping made him believe he was trapped in a vanishing cabinet, or like now, when slight movements in a person's micro expressions that might indicate one of two things: that he was doing a good job, or that he had displeased them and was about to be punished— or worse yet, watch someone else be tortured.

"The body keeps score," Rivington had said, "especially the magical body."

That's exactly what his mother's body was doing to her right now. It was why he and both of the witches before him were here.

They did not want to harm him, they were here to help. The realization made his fingers relax.

If the older witch noticed the flicker of his hand before, she did not react to it. However, she made clear that she had noted the step he took in front of Hermione by the way her eyes cut between her, him, and his traitorous foot.

Draco watched the right side of her mouth jump up slightly.

"Do you ever wonder where it comes from?" Andromeda asked cooly, eyes burning into his.

Draco blinked at the woman and took several measured breaths to calm himself some more.

"W-where what comes from?" Draco asked.

"Our inability to…" her eyes darted between him and Hermione again before she finished, "Comply."

Draco felt the color leave his face.

"I'll get some tea," Hermione squeaked, and she disappeared through a doorway.


After the initial tension had been settled by Hermione's perceptive idea of keeping everyone's hands and mouths occupied with tea, along with her encouragement that they all sit, they went over a plan. Hermione and Draco would work together on the Manor's wards, and Andromeda would meet with her sister.

That part was a little less concrete to Draco, as he wasn't exactly sure what magical convergence would happen at the reunion. Would his mother instantly feel better in her sister's presence? Would they talk, hug, cry, and Narcissa would be halfway back to her old self? Draco didn't know anything about the intricacies of love magic, but he settled his nerves with the thought that almost no one else did either.


"We're ready," Hermione said to her patronus in a message to Andromeda.

It was a Sunday, and Draco and Hermione had started on the wards first thing in the morning after their meeting with his aunt. They worked diligently, stopping only a few times when Ceely arrived with a cup of lemonade, a plate of sandwiches, or for Draco to occasionally check on his mother. Otherwise, they worked in relative silence. The witch was obviously determined to stay focused on the task at hand, and Draco was reminded of their younger years, how she meticulously she used to scratch away at parchment in class, or how furiously she would admonish Potter and Weasley if they began goofing off too much whilst she focused on brewing a potion. Draco didn't dare interrupt her now, but he was happy to catch a few shy and knowing glances from her throughout the day.

Watching her work was amazing, and he often had to stop himself from staring at her like a creep… but he couldn't help himself. Each crinkle of her nose and every sparkle in her eye increased the temptation to gaze as she reworked magical locks and dove into forbidden places, unwrapping them and laying them all bare.

As it turned out, his mother had been correct. Not only did the Malfoy House wards block Andromeda Tonks from stepping foot on the property, but Hermione had also been able to identify and reverse quite a few curses set specifically to attack his mother's sister.

Draco watched the translucent blue otter swim away into the air, taking with it the lovely glow it cast on Hermione's skin, and leaving them in the now darkening receiving room.

Draco wanted to kiss her, wanted to thank her, wanted to dig his hands into her hair and get her to make those noises he'd come to miss over the last few weeks.

Maybe it was because he felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Maybe it was the way she kept glancing over at him, as if anything were possible and that there are still good things in the world, and that he, Draco Malfoy, could be the cause of some of them.

Perhaps his mother wouldn't be healed completely, but he had hope that she would be better off for their efforts in the end. He'd done something to help someone he loved, and Hermione had helped him without question.

He almost took a step towards her, pulled by some force he did not understand, but their attention was jerked to the fireplace as it roared to life, the green flames licking up high into the opening until Andromeda stepped from it.

"That was quick," the elder witch said, her serious face softening a bit as she saw them.

"Hermione's quite good at curse breaking, it seems." Draco said.

Andromeda gave Hermione a sarcastic look as if to say, is he new here?

Hermione cleared her throat, "D-Draco too. It would have taken much longer without him."

Andromeda gave them both an amused smile and simply said, "Of course."

"Mother— she's in her quarters. I've already informed her you'd be coming."

Andromeda's face fell a little, and Draco wasn't sure if it was out of anticipation or discomfort.

"I'd like to see her alone, if that's alright," Andromeda said, finally.

"Of course," Draco said.

The woman's wide but kind eyes had a severity to them. She shifted her gaze around the room, sparing Draco from their intensity as she no doubt mentally prepared herself for the task at hand. Draco realized he still wasn't exactly sure what she meant to do when she was alone with his mother, and he couldn't help but be struck with the thought of all the things this woman had lost and suffered through, specifically, the loss of her husband and her only child.

What if she decided to enact some sort of revenge on mother for her connection to it all? The thought chilled him, so he stuttered, "I- really appreciate this. You had every right to decline, I would have understood. If it's too much, you don't have—-"

His aunt whipped her eyes at him and her lips pursed as if reading his mind. He had to keep himself from jumping as she hissed, "I will always take care of my own."

Her offense at the implication reassured him. He knew that feeling. He felt it himself constantly. If he didn't protect his own, no one would.

Andromeda had few people herself to protect these days. Perhaps she, like Draco, too felt like a failure.

Like someone who was always losing.

Draco realized that his aunt perhaps needed this to work just as much as he and his mother did.

He could trust her.

He had made a good choice.

Things might get better.

Draco nodded curtly to his aunt to offer his acceptance.

"If you follow the hall through that door," Draco indicated behind him, "her quarters begin at the end of it."

Hermione moved forward and reached for Andromeda's forearms to give them an encouraging squeeze.

The witch gave Hermione a tight smile, then cast Draco with a lingering look. The woman's lip quivered a bit. Her fierce look and tone from before were long gone as she placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "We haven't lost everything. We can take some things back, they can't stop us now."

Then, without another word, she made for the tall door, and they watched as she disappeared.

When Andromeda was gone, Hermione looked at Draco. He could see glistening in her eyes even now in the darkened room.

Draco wondered if she knew more than he, more about the relationship between the two sisters, and about the depths of what this all meant.

Because that's who Hermione Granger was, that's what she did.

Of course she did. He could see her now in his mind placing a comforting hand over his aunt as she spoke of how much she loved and missed her younger sister during one of the many gatherings he knew those on the side of the Order must frequently have. One big happy family he could not be a part of.

But there was something he did have with Hermione.

The pull he felt towards her tinged again.

Daring, bold, and unafraid Granger.

She'd done this. She'd made this possible.

Draco closed the space between them and grabbed her face in his hands; impulsive, heedless, reckless Black.

"Draco…" Hermione warned, yet her fingers were starting to fist the front of his shirt.

"Shut up," he said, pushing his mouth onto hers as he began to walk her to the fire.

She let him, fingers gripping even tighter at his shirt as she returned his kiss.

He parted from her just long enough to grab a handful of floo powder and toss it in.

Draco flicked his eyes to her and he could see the green flames reflecting on her already flushed face. He pulled her hips towards him so he was close enough to connect their mouths again in another molten kiss.

He then pushed her into the fire, and they whisked away.


Draco hadn't planned this, but his fingers were twisting into her hair as he pushed her into his flat, so he needed to think quickly.

His eyes darted around for a place to take her.

"Your elf," Hermione panted against his skin where her mouth had fallen to his neck, each press of her mouth sent a wave to his head making it rather hard to think.

"She's no stranger to such things," he quipped, stopped now by the fact that he had crowded Granger against the back of his couch, the couch , and his hips pressed roughly against her.

"It's not right," Hermione said, breaking from him and turning her head to look for the elf.

They always worked so well together , Draco thought, as the idea came to him.

He leaned into her ear, "If I take you to my bed and cast a silencing charm, would that suffice?"

She cut her eyes to him and searched his face for several moments. He thought about how lovely she would look splayed out on his bed.

He didn't account for her next statement at all.

"We have to stop this Draco, it isn't healthy," she said.

Draco thought she looked ridiculous saying it considering her lips were already swollen from their snogging, not to mention the fact that he could feel her nails digging into his chest where she maintained her hold on his shirt.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and pushed himself against her more, leaning forward so he could drop his hands on the corners of the couch, pinning her against it. His face was so close to hers now that he could see the hairs framing her face being blown back with each of his heavy breaths.

"What's the matter?" He asked with a tilt of his head, "Afraid Weasley will start to notice you've been coming home late?"

Her mouth opened and she let out a surprised noise, and in her confusion her grip on his shirt loosened.

"Ron?" She said, furrowing her eyebrows, "We broke up ages ago."

She shook her head slightly then her lips began to form the beginnings of a smirk.

"Do… Do you mean to say you think I've been cheating on him this whole time? With you ?"

Yeah, kinda, he thought.

"Then what?" Draco said through gritted teeth.

He lifted a hand from the couch and raised her chin with his thumb before saying in a snarky tone, "Last time I checked I didn't have you under the Imperius curse."

He couldn't tell if the heat rising in his face was annoyance or lust. These things got mixed up with her. Half of him was frustrated she had the audacity to imply she didn't want this just as much as he did.

As if she hadn't started all of this.

The other part of him wondered if this was a part of her game. Teasing him.

Draco maneuvered his thigh between her legs and dropped his fingers to lightly graze her throat and said, "Tell me to stop, then."

He brushed his lips to her cheek, letting them drag against her skin, and he moved his other hand to crawl up the hem of her blouse.

Hermione closed her eyes, and took in a sharp breath. He dipped his face to her neck, and her back arched causing her front to go flush against him. It gave him the perfect angle to make a trail with his mouth to her collar bone.

"I can't," she breathed out, pushing herself onto his leg.

He lifted his face from her just enough to say against her skin, "Irresistible, am I, Granger?"

At the same moment, the fingers he had been sliding up her shirt climbed her ribs and slid under her bra and directly to her nipple, causing what Draco was sure would have been an intelligible retort from the witch to turn into a whimper. He swept his thumb over it a few times, and pushed himself into her more until she was rocking herself into his leg.

He then abruptly removed himself from her and the couch. He gave her a wink when she let out a disgruntled breath.

Draco took a few backwards steps towards the hall that led to his bedroom, he pursed his lips in a look of feigned confusion "I didn't quite catch your reasoning there, Granger?"

He lost sight of her as he turned and followed the path, but he heard a puff escape her lips as she disconnected herself from the back of the couch and came after him, slowly.

He was halfway down the hall when he called to her again, "Floo is the other way," but she said nothing. The only sounds were the clicking of Dragon-hide boots and the tapping of those cheap broken down vinyl things she wore, both headed in the same direction.

When he reached the door he turned, and as he'd hoped, she was only an arms length away from him.

Hermione let out a sigh before saying, "It's not healthy because for the first time in a really long time I feel normal… just for a few stolen moments when I am with you. You make me feel good," she hardly blinked when she said it, and her eyes were locked on his.

He froze at the confession, at her admittance that maybe she was just as generally miserable as he was, and at her implication that he could provide some sort of antidote.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, if for no other reason than to hide the way they threatened to widen. As further proof of being undaunted, he leaned his back against his bedroom door and sucked his tongue to his teeth. But really, the racing of his thoughts were anything but unfazed.

Stolen moments.

It made sense, putting it that way. Because that's exactly what they were doing, stealing .

That must be why it felt wrong and right all at the same time.

He gathered himself from his thoughts so he could drawl, "What's wrong with that?" And then give her a cheeky sneer before continuing, "I've made it more than clear I'm happy to oblige."

She took a step closer, and ran her bottom lip between her teeth before stating, "It's a little much, to put on someone, don't you think?"

Draco realized she was just close enough for him to reach for her wrist, and in an instant he had pulled her into him, and rested his back against the door again.

"I can take it," He said, and it was either the chill in his voice, or the way his hands slid around her waist, and then even lower, that made Hermione tremble slightly.

She let out a staggering breath.

"You're, I-" Hermione made a choking sound and then hastily forced out her next words, "I can't talk about this with your hand on my arse."

Lowering his head to her again, he brushed his lips against hers as if in question, "Later then," he said softly. If she didn't hear the words he knew she could feel them, just as he felt the exhale of her breath against his face.

Then, with a comical shift, he squeezed the aforementioned hand against her backside to emphasize his next words.

"Funny though, I thought you hated me," he said, letting his head fall back to the door so he could look down at her.

She smiled and pressed back into him, "I don't hate you right now."

Draco's mind whirled again.

This wasn't fucking hate sex.

What the fuck was this?

His thoughts didn't give him words as answer, so he sought it from the taste of her mouth while he reached behind him to open the door.


"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Hermione said as she broke away from him and caught sight of the bedroom. Draco followed her eyes to his bed, a large wooden four poster that happened to have sprawling dragon wings carved into the headboard.

"Language, Granger," Malfoy smirked as he narrowed his focus to a spry curl on her temple. He brushed it back behind her ear and asked, "Have you never seen decent furniture? Don't tell me Weasley made you sleep between him and his mother, or did he at least have you on a cot at the foot of her bed?"

Hermione scoffed as she lifted her eyes to him darkly and said, "Did you ask your father to buy that for you, or was it a present from mummy for being such a good boy?"

Draco's tongue danced around the corners of his mouth, and they glared at each other.

He watched her jaw slacken into delight at her own cleverness.

Finally, with barely a movement of his lips he whispered, "Get in it."

He guided her to the bed, or maybe she guided him, he didn't know anymore, he just knew his mouth was on hers and her fingers were roving through his hair, and she was pulling his bottom lip through her teeth and sucking on it. Their movements were eventually halted when her calves hit the side of his bed.

She sat down on the edge and he followed her, parting her legs slightly with one knee as he leaned in to kiss her some more, sliding his tongue against hers.

Hermione made quick work of his shirt buttons, and when she had it open, the feel of her hands on his chest seemed to cause her words from before to repeat in Draco's mind.

Normal , she had said.

He took his mouth from hers with a pop , and looked her over once. Her chest heaved, and there was flushing creeping from her chest upward.

Hermione slid her hands around his neck, pulling him back, and Draco leaned into her again, and she ran her hands down his shoulders to pull his shirt down his arms.

You make me feel good.

He slid himself down her body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake until he felt his knees hit the floor and allowed him to kneel before her.

Draco slowly undid the cloth tie that wrapped her waist in her ugly brown checkered trousers. She bit her lip as she watched him pull them off, along with her knickers.

A soft gasp escaped her when he pulled her bare hips to situate further on the edge of his bed, and she realized what he was intending.

He parted her thighs more with his hands, and gave her a wanton look as he began kissing her inner thigh, but Hermione drew up suddenly.

"The charm!" She spluttered.

Fucking magnanimous witch , he though.

Draco leaned back with a sigh to his haunches.

He dug his wand from his robes and completed the silencing charm over the room, then gave her a look as if to ask, Satisfied?

She swallowed and leaned back in response, maintaining his gaze.

Draco threw his wand away, peeled off his outer robes, and raised himself back up on his knees. He slid his hands from the sides of her thighs until he firmly gripped her hip bones, curling his long fingers around them.

Hermione drew in another breath.

Draco flicked his eyes to hers one more time before lowering his head. When his mouth met its mark he heard her let out a hum and felt her fingers thread through his hair.

He worked his tongue, then his lips, around the apex of her core, sucking it into his mouth only once, and letting his teeth graze against her. After that, he avoided the area, tracing an oval pattern up and around where he knew she really wanted it. She threw her head back, and arched herself further into his mouth. Hermione's hand tightened in his hair, and he couldn't help himself— he had to please her. Draco adjusted his tongue until he was flicking her sweet spot in quick motions. It wasn't long before her breath was full of those little sounds he had been missing— "mmm's" and "oh's" mostly, and Draco couldn't forget about the "uhg's!" Those were his favorite afterall.

Hermione then let out a throaty whine.

It was good he did the charm, he thought, Risly might think he was killing her in here.

He kept going even as his jaw began to burn, spelling his name in her with his tongue, laying his claim.

She let out a sound that reminded Draco of a cross between a giggle and a moan, and he could tell she was close by the way she bucked her hips against his hands.

He gripped her even tighter and pushed her hips down. He thought it would have been funny if she was cheating on Weasley, because then he might see the bruises that would no doubt form.

Oh well.

The raw, loud noise that ripped through her throat reverberated in his head. It replaced the other screams that had lived there for far too long, and maybe, if nothing else, it was another good deed he could check off for the day.

At this rate , he thought, maybe he could get his own Order of Merlin just by making Granger come.

He removed his mouth from her, and slid a hand up her stomach to feel the last of her trembling. Granger swore a few times to the ceiling and made the giggling noise again as she came down from her high. He caught her eyes when he straightened himself on his knees.

Draco made sure she was watching when he bent his left arm to wipe his mouth slowly, deliberately smearing her come on the Dark Mark first, then completing the motion to his ring finger, letting it brush his bottom lip.

He still had her full attention when he slid himself beside her onto the bed.

She let out another satisfied laugh, and rolled towards him lazily.

"So fucking loud," he said with an exaggerated eye roll, but his smugness faded as the hair that cascaded around her distracted him.

Draco couldn't help but to nudge his face in it, causing his nose to rest on her cheek.

Hermione ignored his teasing, and he watched her lashes blink dully at the ceiling as she worried with her lip and caught her breath.

When her breathing steadied a bit, she turned to him. Now nose to nose, she stared at him for some time. Her brown eyes darted around the details of his face, and they were filled with an appeased calmness he thought must be rare for an uptight swot like Hermione Granger.

Make it an Order of Merlin, First Class, he thought.

She reached a hand out to skirt his face with her knuckles.

Draco closed his eyes, and for some reason the thoughts he'd been pushing back all day, for weeks even, came barreling through.

What if they didn't have to be thieves anymore?

He felt her move her body closer to him and he opened his eyes.

What if he could keep her?

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and began stroking her arm softly, eventually raising his hand to her shoulder, and then up to the side of her face. He swiped at her temple with his thumb as if doing so would uncover layers to discover what the hell was going on here.

Her face was so soft.

Draco swallowed, and he stopped his movement on her cheek.

How long have they been staring into each other's eyes like this?

Hermione spoke then, though her voice was still raspy from her crooning.

"Don't stop," she said, then lightly touched her lips to his.

Fucking hell.

Draco moved, and she fell back to let him shift on top of her.

Each movement he made to remove the rest of her clothes was careful and tender, Hermione's own movement equally slow as she undressed him.

With all their clothes removed, his body pressed against her as much as physically possible; Draco didn't know if even the thinnest parchment could fit between them.

Words began pouring from his mouth, with none of his usual control and articulation.

"You taste splendid" he said, as his mouth trailed from her neck to her chest.

"You smell so sweet," he told her sternum before he kissed the valley between her breasts.

"You feel amazing."

Every caress of his mouth against her was a wish he couldn't, wouldn't verbalize. Each of Draco's senses were filled with her, he took in everything, even down to the kneading of her toes against his thigh.

"You're absolutely perfect, Hermione," he murmured taking her left nipple into his mouth and pressing his tongue against it.

Draco wasn't sure if it was this moment that things changed for him, or if something long before had put it into motion. But he was certain that there wasn't anything forbidden about what was occurring right now.

Nothing hateful.

It was the opposite of hate sex.

Her warmth was melting him, and he didn't even know what he was saying anymore.

Draco Malfoy was drunk on something other than Creme De Menthe.

Something much, much stronger.

It was dangerous, but he'd worry about that later.

"How could anyone think—-" He lost his next words due to his tongue pressing against her again.

Rivington had said he needed to apply himself to something. Maybe it could be making up for the fact that he or anyone could have ever believed that Hermione Granger was dirty, less than, or unworthy.

He made his way back up to her neck.

As if to sober him, he felt Hermione's hands grab his face, removing him from his work to face her. She observed him, her own expressions painted with a furrowed brow as if she were trying to discover something in his features.

He knew he'd said too much, and not enough at the same time.

He knew there must be something damning all over his face.

Draco tried to lean his mouth into her again, but her hands kept his face hovering above a moment longer as she looked.

Then, Hermione's eyes widened in recognition. Her grip on his face loosened, causing her knuckles to dig into his temples.

I should have known you'd be sentimental , she had said, that second time.

He thought she might be wanting to say it again.

Hermione's mouth parted a bit, but she didn't speak, she only let out a shuddering breath.

Draco dipped his head again to continue his ministrations and she let him, her hands carded lightly through his hair as he moved.

Draco had no business thinking the things that he was thinking, he tried to push them down, burying his thoughts away by focusing solely on her— her beautiful freckles, her tangled mane, her soft, flushed skin.

He felt her wrap a leg around his waist and pull his body even tighter against hers as if she were encouraging him to do the same.

In an effort to get even closer, he removed her hands from where they had fallen around his shoulders, and slid them slowly above her head. Her eyes followed their hands, and her fingers knit and closed into his. Draco gripped hers as well, fisting them, and the sheets under her as he shifted his lower body to connect with hers.

He was hardly inside of her and he already knew he wasn't ever going to be the same. His concern now solely on her slickness, her heat, the little noises she made. She arched into him even more, begging for more friction.

Draco obeyed, steadily working himself inside her warmth before slowly withdrawing and repeating the movement.

But it was too much, and his lips betrayed him again.

"I love being inside of you," he said against her cheek after pushing himself into her once more, "you make me feel good, too."

Their movements were gentle as they swirled and rippled into each other. They didn't break eye contact, and Draco knew that his face was betraying his inner stirrings. Right now, he didn't care if he sank or swam as he dipped inside her, creating a rhythm accompanied by small huffs from her mouth like waves and crests.

Her fire and his ice had before combined into steam, but this time it pooled, and turned them into oscillating waters. Her breath, the rolling of his body into hers, all a billowing deluge.

Aphrodite rose from the sublime movements of such waves.

He pulled one of his arms down and wrapped it behind the curve of her back, creating a different angle, one that made him go even deeper. Hermione tossed her head back and closed her eyes, and one of her hands must have come down as well, because he felt her nails drag against his backside then up his spine. The sensation caused his face to fall to her neck and he groaned against it.

They pushed and pulled at each other, frothing and eddying, both becoming more desperate to reach the peak.

"Say my name," he breathed out with some effort into her ear, "When you come, say it."

Her mouth opened as if to respond, but no sound came out.

He could tell when she was close again, her eyes began to flutter, her sweet bated breaths edged closer together, and her writhing became less measured as she arched even more into him.

When she clenched around him, he lowered his other hand to take hold of her jaw, causing her to open her eyes fully. His thumb fell over her throat and he could feel the flickering of her pulse as he plunged himself more into her depths, eyes locked on hers.

Eventually her eyes began to roll back, and he saw the tide crash onto shore.

She could only muster a whispered, "Draco," in the midst of her hums and other light moans that might have been other words he had less care for at the moment.

His hand fell to her chest, pushing her into the mattress as her movements calmed and he allowed himself to finally spill into her before falling on her softly.

Draco was still inside of her when he took one of her hands in his, fingers lacing as he attempted to catch his breath in the place where her neck and shoulder met. He could feel Hermione steadying her own breathing under his chest.

He felt himself soften in her as he placed a few more idle kisses wherever he could reach.

When he finally mustered up the energy to roll out and off of her with a grunt, he felt completely knackered in every way.

They were both too spent to move, the emotional, physical, and magical energy they had expressed throughout the day finally caught up to them. After a few seconds, Draco managed to roll and throw his arm around her waist despite his exhaustion, a feeble attempt at pulling her closer to him.

He was surprised when she curled her back into his chest, letting him hold her.

It felt possessive, like a dragon clutching at his hoard. Fitting, as they often stole and hoarded things that weren't theirs to keep.

For good measure, he put his face in her hair again, enveloping himself even more in her sweet and floral scent. He pretended it was her essence wrapping around his magical core, binding them together so she couldn't leave and so he could always feel the peace he felt in this moment.


Draco didn't know how long they laid there like that, long enough for him to assume Hermione was asleep and for Draco to come to his senses.

He couldn't see her face, hidden by the mass of curls, but the arm he had draped over her earlier gave him access to wrap his fingers around her forearm.

The forearm.

He twisted it in his hand, and the slash of moonlight from the space between his curtains gave him just enough light to view her scars and his own marked arm. He'd never looked at it since it happened, and seeing it now held against his brand and glinting in the moonlight should have made him sick, but he only felt numb.

Draco brushed his thumb where it just reached the loop of an "o." He noted the ragged and raised textures of the letters carved brutally in her skin.

She had a freckle there, well, used to, before it was sliced in half by the point of a cursed knife.

His thumb rubbed at it mindlessly, and he became disturbed by the thoughts he had been trying to stifle all night now that he was clear-headed again.

He knew where the conclusion of such thoughts would lead.

She could never want him, not really, he thought.

And he could never have her.

It was only pretend.

Hermione's head moved, and he stopped his movements. Unsure if she was merely adjusting in her sleep, or if she saw what he was doing, he waited and held his breath. When she didn't move again he slowly lowered their arms back down. He gripped her tighter against him, and then eventually drifted to sleep.


Draco awoke in the middle of the night with a shout. He'd had a nightmare that the Dark Lord had won, and he had cursed Draco into being a post apocalyptic warlord. Almost everyone was dead, and those who remained were as subservient to the Dark Lord as anyone or anything could be, including Hermione.

Draco swiftly ran his hands through the sheets around him. The movement wafted vanilla and rose in the air.

It didn't surprise him that she was gone, but that didn't soothe the stinging in his chest.