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Her previous searches had proved fruitless, and it was no wonder why. In their last home, the entrance to the dungeons had been concealed within the fireplace. Here, the entrance was outside the manor.

Draco led her outside without a word, past the gardens and to a nondescript patch of land not too far from the pond.

He turned to Hermione.

"Lay your palm on the ground and tell it what you want."

She looked at him warily, and he stepped back to fall in line beside her.

A gentle breeze blew—it stirred her hair as she bent low to the ground and obeyed. The grass was soft, slightly wet and cold as she pressed her palm to it.

"Open," she said.

A rumble began in the ground—she stepped back, almost bumping into Draco, her recent nightmare still prominent in her head. He put his hand on her shoulder, putting pressure on her to help her stabilize as the earth moved underneath them.

Rather than a crack, however, a hole began to appear in the ground as earth shifted and crawled back on itself to reveal its secret. Stairs carved themselves into the ground, leading deeper and deeper down at a walkable incline. It happened in the span of seconds, and Hermione stared at it, frowning.

She looked at Draco, demanding answers.

"It seemed too obvious to keep the dungeon within the house," he said. "I was a little more creative this time around."

The rumbling was easing up by then, and within seconds, stopped. Hermione made to venture down first but Draco caught her by the waist and hauled her back.

"No," he said gently. "We go in together."

He hooked his arms around her back and the backs of her knees, lifted her up easily. Hermione clung to him.

"No claws this time?" he asked teasingly as he began their descent.

"If I feel you're not going fast enough, they'll make an appearance."

He let out a huff of laughter.

They found Luna standing in her dim cell, having heard them coming.

Draco was still carrying Hermione. She knew his aim, that he wanted it to appear to Luna that she had become as egotistical as him, to not even bother going down stairs herself, but didn't care.

He set her down carefully, and she met their prisoner's eyes.

She appeared unhurt. Sleep-deprived and cold, but unhurt. Her clothes were dirty but intact and her hair was disheveled, but as far as Hermione could detect, there was no evidence of blood or bruises. She waited to feel immense relief.

They stared at each other for a moment. Hermione thought back to the last time they'd seen each other. It had been a matter of weeks, and yet so much had happened between then that it felt like years.

"You knew at some point you would end up here."

Luna's gaze was sad but firm.

"I was never sure whether you'd still be alive or not by then."

"Did any of them lay a hand on you?" Hermione asked.

Luna was frowning.

"No," she said softly. "They didn't use their hands to torture me."

Her gaze was on Draco, and Hermione realized she had never seen Luna angry before. It transformed her face—in the shadows of her cell she appeared like a vengeful wraith. Hermione was reminded of the fine, lovely features of a Veela contorting with anger—she couldn't help but wonder what trials Luna had endured all these years while Hermione had been in her own hell.

Hermione had learned much later on of their murders and injustices done to her friends and family. She had been in captivity this whole time—unwilling, but safe—to a degree. And Luna had probably been in the thick of it all from the start.

War doesn't hesitate before innocence, and pain changes people.

She was sick to death of seeing how it had poisoned everything, and everyone.

Faint sympathy stirred within her. A distant part of herself tried grasping at it.

She was your friend, she reminded herself.

Draco stared back, unbothered by Luna's calm but hostile stare.

"You didn't expect five-star treatment, did you?" he asked coolly. "You're the mate of my enemy. I've got no issue with you personally, Lovegood. But conspiring to abduct my wife is where I've got a problem. If you were expecting a calm and polite interview over tea, you thought wrong."

"I'm not stupid," Luna said stiffly. "Don't expect me to fall at your feet and thank you for the kindness of not being raped."

"That can be arranged, if you keep mouthing off," he said, his voice toneless and deep.

Hermione's head snapped to the side, staring at Draco with such intensity that he said nothing more. Whether he was taken aback or angered by that she didn't know because he had no reaction to it.

That pleased her. She settled back down.

Luna had turned her gaze back onto her.

"He knows," was all she said.

Hermione nodded. "It always happens," she said. "It's only a matter of how long it takes. You were too late."

Luna shook her head in grim acknowledgment. "We tried, Hermione. For years, we've been trying."

"Where is Neville?"

"I don't know." There was sincerity in her tone, her eyes, but that faded quickly as she looked back at Draco. "I told your men the same thing. Neville never tells me where he's going in case something like this happens."

"You got yourself caught on purpose," Hermione said. "You've been so careful all this time not to allow hostages to be taken."

"We got your message," Luna said. "About what happened."

Desperation clawed at Hermione.

"I told you not to come." Draco's hand wrapped around her arm—to reassure her, probably. She pulled away swiftly. "You're not going to live through this."

Luna's voice held no bitterness. "I know."

Hermione looked at Draco. "Leave us."

A brief flicker of surprise—and annoyance—crossed over his face. She held his stare, keeping her face smooth and blank as stone.

Don't you trust me? She asked him sweetly.

You sing your lies so convincingly, my love, he replied. But you know there's no way to let her escape.

I wouldn't dream of trying it, my Lord.

That appeased him a little. He furrowed his brow, issuing a silent warning.

See to it that you don't, firebird, or you'll be singing in pain tonight.

She went to him, sealed their truce with a kiss—he latched onto her, devouring the scrap she offered. And then he was gone.

Luna had been watching all the while. Her stare was a little apprehensive as Hermione walked back to her.

"I told you," Hermione said simply. The warmth from his lips, the moisture of his saliva still lingered on her skin. She wiped it away. "I gave in. I have to give him what he wants so I can get what I want."

"I don't blame you," Luna said. "I blame him. I want you to know that, before anything else happens."

"I suppose you wouldn't tell me where Neville is now that he's gone?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't lie," Luna said. "I don't know where he is. I can say that the last place I saw him was where I was taken. But we never Apparate together—he could have gone anywhere."

"How do you communicate?"

"We still had those charmed galleons from fifth year," Luna replied softly. "The charm needed to be refreshed badly. But it works. And I lost mine when they hauled me out."

Hermione nodded.

"Are you going to hurt him?" Luna asked. "Or will it be Draco?"

"I want to talk to him," Hermione said. "Draco already laid claim on Neville—I told him I would take care of you, because he's a monster, and he'll be cruel. He would make it last…he'd probably let others watch. I can't promise that I can protect Neville…none of us will win."

"Except Draco," Luna said, her voice uncharacteristically low and grim.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I'm going to find a way to make him regret all this. I'll make him pay for everything."

"When we got your message, I thought it was fake. I thought he'd forced you to tell us those things, that it was just a means to lure us out. Then we heard about Danielle."

Hermione nodded.

"I don't blame you for that, either. If they really were going to give her to Crabbe then you did her a favor—"

"I don't want to hear it," Hermione said suddenly, her sharpened voice bounding around the dungeon. "Sympathy can't save me. I killed her. I got my magic back…I don't regret it."

The tearless nightmares. Danielle's accusing, dying stare. Her hand pushing that dagger in deep. The red that unfurled over her like a thick blanket.

"There's still a chance, Hermione," Luna said imploringly. "There's always a chance, you know that."

"Time beat that out of me," Hermione said, her tone resentful. "That, and my husband. There's no getting away. Not permanently."

"I'm here now," Luna said, dropping her voice so low, as if she thought Draco might still be lurking in the dark, listening. He very well might be, Hermione thought, but felt with certainty that this time, he had obliged her request for privacy.

"I'm here, I can help you," Luna said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you think I let them catch me?"

Hermione felt her heart sink low.

"Neville wouldn't hear of it," Luna continued. "We knew they were coming, but they came faster than we expected. He threatened to Imperius me just so I wouldn't do it."

That turned her stomach a little, that Neville would even think something like that.

But…

She thought of the fate he had condemned his own grandmother to. Another woman in another cage.

Anger spiked.

Hermione gave Luna a bitter smile.

"Funny isn't it, how every man thinks his wants can override your own. Harry, Neville, Draco…they're all the same."

"That's not true," Luna said, frowning. "How could you say that?"

"The only one who hasn't disappointed me yet is Ron," Hermione said, more to herself than to Luna. "But he died too early. Who knows..he might have joined them, too, with enough time."

"Don't compare them like that," Luna said a little heatedly. "They're nothing like Draco."

"Harry lied to me to "keep me safe" and led to my kidnapping," Hermione hissed, leaning in suddenly, her face livid. Luna reeled back in fear. "He went behind my back to ensure my safety and didn't even once ask me about it. Draco bound us together against my will. He raped and beat and impregnated me because he wanted it, and it didn't matter that I didn't. And you just told me Neville threatened to control you against your will so he could get his way. Tell me how that doesn't make them all the same sort of monster."

At a loss for words, Luna merely stared back, and Hermione knew that her words had hit her deeply.

"What else has he done, that I don't know of yet?" she added softly. "Does he hit you, too? Hold you down when you aren't in the mood? Or does he use words to hurt you?"

Luna flinched. Although they had never spoken of it outright in the very few chances they'd had to speak in the times they'd met, Hermione had accurately sensed that she and Neville were together. Luna's staunch defense of him was telling enough.

"Merlin, no," she gasped. "He'd never."

Hermione stared at her for a moment until she was satisfied.

"Good," she finally said. "Then what has he done, that Draco holds it over my head? I don't like surprises, and I'm tired of Draco doling them out like bitter medicines."

Luna shook her head, her eyes pleading. "Could it just be that he's lying to you?"

"I've considered that, actually," Hermione replied with bite in her tone. "But he was right about George, and I don't see what he gains from lying to me about Neville when I've already joined him and do his bidding."

At the mention of George's name, Luna's face clouded over, and Hermione sensed that his switching of sides must have been a hard blow to the resistance. How had that news broken out? She had an urge to ask, but did it really matter? And Draco might be willing to give her privacy to talk to their captive, but she knew he wouldn't let them have all day to talk.

At that last sentence, Luna approached the bars of her cell again and gripped two of them tightly. Her pale, wan face peered at Hermione, her eyes feverish with hope—and the remnants of whatever torture she had been put through at the hands of Draco's men.

"I'm here," she repeated. "I'll help you. We'll find a way out—improvise if we need to. Prepare your son. We can do it if we work quickly."

Hermione approached her slowly, so to not frighten her again. Her heart almost ached with…impatience?

She reached Luna and raised her hand, stroked Luna's face through the bars in a gesture she meant as affection though inside, she felt nothing. Had this happened months ago, before her Horcrux, she would have been a sobbing mess on the floor, clutching her friend like a lifeline. She would have taken her hand and tried a thousand and one ways to break her out of this prison. Her skin was unclean and cold—Hermione brushed that one tear away from Luna's cheek.

"Don't you see?" she whispered back. "You're about to learn what it's taken me years to learn. Once you're in here, there's no getting out. Not alive, anyhow." She cleared her throat. "You shouldn't have come for me. I told you not to come."

Luna gripped her hand.

"You didn't listen," Hermione continued. "And I'm going to have to kill you so Draco won't have the satisfaction of making you suffer more than necessary. And I'll drag another body behind me, and that's exactly what he wants. We're all playing into his cards no matter what we try."

Luna's hand went slack and fumbled its hold on her own.

She stared at Hermione as if she were a stranger.

That twinge of pain that rattled her insides was real. That comforted Hermione, to know she could still feel it.

"There's no way out," she heard herself say. "I've spent years looking. I'm tired, and I want this to end."

Luna's eyes were glassy with tears.

"I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear," Hermione said. "But I warned you. You've wrapped yourself up like a present for Draco. Thank you for risking everything for me but it won't work, and you know it."

Luna's shoulders slumped. She leaned against the bars, her head cast down as her fate slowly became more concrete. Her long, pale blond hair was a tangled mess, half of it still stuck in a braid. A full ten seconds passed before she spoke again.

"We found a bit of your DNA at the Burrow, you know," she said, her voice hollow. "A bit of fingernail. We thought we could break in here, feed some Polyjuice to somebody and switch you out, hide you somewhere. I had some of it with me, but they took it. And of course, Malfoy knows of it now."

"A bold plan," Hermione sighed. "But Draco's got every property of his warded to hell and back. The only illusions allowed are the ones applied as you exit. That's how he's kept me hidden…I tried removing them at first, tried to ask for help from strangers. But he was always with me, and the illusions couldn't be removed until we came back home. After a while, I enjoyed the anonymity. When I can go on walks on my own and under a disguise, I feel almost normal."

"You can have that again," Luna insisted bleakly, though Hermione saw in her eyes that she knew her efforts had been futile. "I promise, Hermione. Work with me."

"I've done bad things already, and it will only get worse from here on out," Hermione said. "Draco will never stop until you and Neville are gone—chances are he still won't stop even when you are… I told you not to come. There's nothing left to fight for. He's made me like him."

"If you're talking about Danielle, she's dead, Hermione, and there's nothing else we can do for her—"

"I don't want to hear her name again. She gets to be dead. I dream the moment I killed her, and I want to be in her place."

Shaken, Luna cocked her head at her. "Hermione…"

Hermione reached into her pocket, withdrew something.

Luna looked at it warily.

"Soon you'll be dead, too, and that's just another name to the long list of people gone that I can't join."

"What are you talking about?"

"I joined him in more ways than one," Hermione said. "That part was consensual. What he did after wasn't. I only joined him to get my magic back. He saw right through it and tied me to him so now there really is no escape, even with my magic restored. Not ever."

She pointed her wand at herself. Pressed the tip right over her heart. No chance of missing.

"Wait," Luna was saying, her eyes urgent with understanding. "Hermione, don't—"

"Avada Kedavra."

She staggered slightly as the curse burst from her wand and seared through her.

It was cold. Like a vacuum, dragging at her insides like it wanted to take them right along, rip them from her body. It was like when a light switch is flicked incorrectly and gets stuck halfway, leaving a flickering light—she felt a stutter in her pulse, her breath catch in her lungs like a hiccup, but it never fully stopped or even paused, and as quickly as that flicker had come, it was gone.

Its green flare was so bright inside the dark dungeon that it blinded both her and Luna for some moments during and afterward. Luna had let out a shocked gasp and reached through the bars of her cell blindly.

"Hermione!" Her cry echoed around the dungeon.

But she was still standing, still aware. It took a second to remember to breathe as she internally took stock of her senses, made sure that she had not in fact actually killed herself.

Of course it worked, the sly voice said, sounding smug. Your husband would not have gone to half-measure when he thought he lost you again. He made damn sure it couldn't happen. And now you know what it feels like to die.

Luna stared at her in disbelief, her arm still outstretched and grasping through the bars of her cell.

She saw Hermione, perfectly calm and still breathing. Her brows tilted upwards. A glimmer of a tear tracked down her cheek.

Her dry lips twitched. What-? But no sound came out.

Hermione put her wand away.

"Has Neville told you about Horcruxes?"

Recognition flickered in Luna's eyes, and she stared at Hermione in growing horror.

Draco met her at the top of the stairs. The walk to the only entrance/exit of the dungeon was a long one, and dark, at that. She had been in no mood to aid her way with magic, and so when she saw the dim outline of the bottom of the stairs, she paused there, and suddenly the earth opened from above. The rumbling helped rouse her from the trancelike state she'd found herself in during that solitary, dark walk, and the piercing sunlight and its heat woke her—she glanced up and saw Draco's form, tall and broad, standing expectantly at the top. She had nearly made it all the way up the last of the stairs, but he reached down, took her hand, and helped her up the final ones. She ended up about an inch away from him.

He was radiant in the sun—like a man carved from ice or marble; his eyes clear and following every movement she made. His hair and robes were now and then ruffled gently by the wind, but otherwise he stood perfectly still.

He let go of her hand. His eyes were cold and expectant.

But not furious.

"You didn't kill her."

"Not yet."

He let out a slow, impatient sigh through his nostrils.

"Then you're telling me that green flash I saw was you trying to kill yourself, is that it?"

"I was trying to prove a point," Hermione said.

"And what would that be?" he asked softly, coming closer. His hand came up, traced a delicate line down her throat.

She refused to twitch.

"I can't be saved."

The corner of his lip lifted. "Clever. I'd have liked to see the look on her face."

He swooped down, picked her up into his arms, and they began the walk back to the manor.

"How did it feel?" he asked.

"Cold."

"It's lovely, isn't it?"

"Yes. Like falling asleep…until you're woken up."

When they entered the manor, he did not let her down until they had reached the library. He set her down onto the couch nearest to the fire. He sat with her, draping her legs over his lap so that she was forced to lie back and against the side rest. He stroked her legs slowly, relishing her warmth.

"Why didn't you kill her?"

"You're too hasty," she said, wanting to extract herself from his presence and leave the room. She'd thought he would have been angrier by her attempt. But the security of his Horcrux had him content. Confident. She would be a fool to turn his mood so quickly.

"We can use her to draw out Longbottom."

He looked at her, his eyes alight with surprise and desire.

"I thought about that," he confessed. "Two birds, one stone. But I like a chase—even if it means waiting a little longer."

"No," she said, her voice firm. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of worrying. I want it to end. I want peace."

"We have peace," he said, gesturing around them. "Nobody can touch us."

Hermione shook her head.

"That isn't what I mean."

He took her chin in his hand. The strong sunlight coming into the room made his irises appear drained of their icy blue color. "Tell me what you mean. What do you want, my love?"

It was a feeling she couldn't quite put into words. Not yet.

She merely shook her head again, and he came in close to kiss her gently—but not before first hesitating to make sure she permitted his touch.

"You'll tell me when you're ready, then."

She nodded.

His thumb traced a soft line over her lower lip. His eyes were magnetic, trapping hers.

"That's one death for each of us now," he said, sounding amused. "How many more will there be over the years?"

"You'll have a hundred before the year is out," she said.

Draco grinned and kissed her again.

"Now you know you can never leave me. Not even death can take you from me. You'll always come back."

He nuzzled at her throat. To his surprise and delight, she turned her head to give him better access, and he took it greedily, his mouth leaving round little red marks wherever he wanted.

His hand was on her stomach, stroking it. Her hand grabbed his, pulled it to her breast. Elated, he massaged it gently, reaching beneath the neckline of her dress to play with her, skin to skin.

She paused him with a grip of his hand.

"Do you understand why I was cross with you?" she asked.

He almost resisted. But he folded. He was so close, what else could he do?

"I tried taking the control from you and I shouldn't have," he said. "Forgive me, my Lady."

She stroked his cheek, pleased.

"You're forgiven. Don't do it again."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his voice thick with lust. Her nipple was hardening under his attentions. Hermione magicked her gown away and he bent down at once to suckle at her breast.

She moaned, clutching him close. His other hand played gently with her other breast.

"Firebird," he murmured, "my beautiful, frightening witch…I need you. Would you end my suffering?"

Hermione had half a mind to tell him to leave her alone. But the heat of him was too inviting, and she could feel his hardened cock press against her and his mouth tormented her nipple and her need flared again. Plus, he had behaved rather well recently…

Without saying a word she reached down between them, ridded him of his clothing with a gesture of her hand. She barely even realized what had happened until a moment later and paused.

"You're using nonverbal wandless magic already," he said, his voice reverent and low. "Have you been practicing?"

"No," she looked down at her hand in surprise.

He beamed suddenly, straddled her, devoured her mouth.

"See how powerful you are without even trying?" he asked. "You surprise me still after all these years. My Lady, your power grows to match mine."

No, she thought to herself. I'll surpass you.

His hand had traveled down to cup her intimately, and then his fingers delved between her folds to circle her clitoris. Hermione moaned, sucked on his neck, pressing her hips into his touch.

He worked her there quickly, roughly, and she let him. When he pressed harder in just the right spot she threw her head back and he swallowed her cries of pleasure.

He was leaking cum already, his erection so painful it frayed at his concentration and patience. But he had disobeyed his wife and thus owed her more than an apology.

Her hand took his and guided his fingers inside her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, sweat dampened her temples and she let out a harsh pant when he began thrusting his fingers inside her slowly.

She gripped his shoulders. Her eyes flashed.

"More."

He obeyed and gave it to her. His mouth latched back onto her nipple, sucking it hard.

She came quickly. He felt her quivering underneath him and almost came, too, but barely forced it back. He wanted to be buried deep inside her for that. As she writhed in pleasure on the bed, he stroked her hair away from her face with his free hand. The one inside her continued thrusting until her eyes began to roll back in her head, and then he pulled out and stroked her gently, grounding her.

"I love you," he murmured as she came down. Over and over.

"I need you," she pulled at his arms. "I need you now."

He almost felt the air around him go still as the words processed. Lust and surprise spiked so sharply inside him it made him dizzy.

He watched her avidly, engraving the sight of her moaning those words willfully to the deepest recesses of his mind so that it might stay there forever.

When she'd come to, she stretched as best as she could, as he was still carefully supported atop her. Her face glowed from the pleasuring, and when she met his eye, he could see she was not yet done. Good, he thought, for neither was he. Not by a long shot. He ravaged her mouth.

"Mine," he moaned as they broke briefly for air. He let his head drop, their noses touching. She was still rosy and glowing from her orgasm, her eyes half-lidded. "Blessed, wicked witch...all mine."

She gave him a dazzling smile, reached up to push some hair away from his face.

"And you, my Lord?" she asked. "Who do you belong to?"

"You," he said automatically, without hesitation or resentment. The truth of it was in his eyes. It pleased her.

An unspoken agreement passed between them—he grabbed hold of her hips, and she reached down and began to play with herself as he finally took his cock and sat himself inside her without an inch to spare.

She grunted, but her arousal and her orgasm had prepared her, and Draco, already at his rope's end, came inside her almost instantly, barely managing three thrusts before he burst.

He groaned loudly in pleasure, his teeth sinking into his own lip. He tasted blood.

"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse. His balls were drawing up into themselves, pumping every last bit of come inside of his wife. The past few days had been an agony of needing release, and it all flooded out of him to fill her now. His climax wracked his body, tensing his muscles and sending his hips into a frenzy. His vision went spotty and dark for a moment. He gasped for breath. His hands dug into her hips. Her body gripped him so sweetly—her hands were clutching his back, her nails digging in.

"Fuck, Hermione!"

He was just catching his breath, his eyes focusing slowly. She gave him an arch smile, and took his chin in her hand, gave him an almost pitying look.

"Is that all, my Lord?"

His mouth set in a line.

She wiggled her hips, taunting him.

"Has your libido finally exhausted itself? I'm sure even Theodore would last longer."

His eyes flashed. He was still hard. Draco cupped her throat, pulled out and shoved himself back in. If it hurt her, she managed to hide her pain well. His grip around her throat tightened almost painfully. The menace in their eyes matched each other. He gave another sharp thrust. Her lips curled to bare her teeth.

"Are you mad you came so quickly or that I said someone else's name?"

Don't get tarty now, because I'm not letting you off this goddamned couch until I've got my cum leaking from every one of your holes, wife," he said through grit teeth. "And I don't care if you said his name. You'll be screaming mine before I'm through."

He quickly cast a lust charm-not that he needed it much-and let it settle over him.

"You made me wait for this," he said, stroking himself, watching her as her own hand snaked down her body to play with herself. "Now it's your turn, sweetheart. I've got a good feeling about today-maybe we'll make another son."

He made to guide his cock into her-her talons pressed into his abdomen.

"I will cut your cock off and burn it before you force another child on me," she said, her voice sharp like a dagger. "I will decide when the right time is."

He seemed surprised at the implication that she was no longer as unwilling to have a second child as before. Then it clicked.

"You finally see it now, do you? How lonely our son is. Or did he have to tell you that himself?"

Hermione closed her eyes.

"If you weren't so protective, he wouldn't feel that way. He needs a normal childhood to socialize and flourish."

"I told you to send the letters, didn't I?" His hands reached up, massaged her breasts. Her talons receded slowly. "But a brother or a sister would be more beneficial for him. Just think of it, sweetheart-we'll fill this quiet manor with lively children. Lucio will never feel alone again. He'll take care of the others. They'll go to school together when they're old enough, and I'll have you all to myself again."

He mounted her, pressing forward to push her knees to her chest, his cock angled more deeply inside her. Hermione moaned.

"I'm not going to give you a litter," she said breathlessly as he began to pound. Her ass jiggled against him with every thrust. She gripped the sheets. "I'm not your broodmare."

Draco chuckled.

"Of course not, sweetling." He rolled his hips slowly. She groaned. "I don't actually want a house full of children. But breeding you is such a wonderful thing-it would be a shame to deprive the world of more Malfoys."

Draco stopped, withdrew from her, guided her onto her hands and knees on the edge of the bed. His large palm hugged her lower abdomen, folding her into him as his other hand guided himself back in. She was so wet, hissing softly as he stretched her over and over, his thrusts maddeningly slow. Her nipples ached as they rubbed against the fabric underneath her. One hand rubbed at her clit in quick, tight circles. Her inner thighs were damp with want. She thrust backwards into him. Draco groaned loudly and shivered.

"One Malfoy is enough," she panted. Draco squeezed her, bit down gently on her shoulder.

"Three," he corrected her, stroking her belly. "Three Malfoys are not enough. I grew up without siblings. Lucio will not. He will have a proper family. And we'll give it to him, won't we?"

Hermione laughed, even as she pushed back into him as he thrust. "Only if you continue to behave."

"You say that like I wasn't deemed suitable for Head Boy," he said, feigning offense, and chuckled. She was quivering under him, almost at her climax. She was clenching him involuntarily-he couldn't resist and quickened his pace, his lust like a coil wound within him, ready to spring, ready to go again and again.

"I still think you didn't deserve that position," she said through grit teeth.

"You can't undo the past, firebird. Regardless, I think the position I have now is far better," he hissed into her ear, and she shattered with a choked cry.

They slept in the next morning. Draco woke up, stretched, rolled to his side to find Hermione already awake and supported on one elbow, watching him. The curtains had been drawn already so the room was bright and warm. She had untangled herself from the sheets, and still nude, her loose hair spread everywhere. He had half a mind to drag Martin here and have him paint that very scene at once.

"Morning, sweetheart."

"Good morning, my Lord." She came over to give him a quick, unprompted kiss. Her voice was hoarse from the night before. The marks from his ravishment were in bloom all over her body. She moved a little delicately as if she were still tender. He would have purred with satisfaction if he could.

"What time is it?" he asked.

She eyed him, daring to hope.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Will I have today to myself?

He shot her hopes down as he rose from the bed and went into the bathroom, started up the shower.

"We're going to the shops today," he said, and motioned for her to join him.

Their shower was quick. Draco's mood was elevated, almost chipper as they washed up.

"Why are we going out?" Hermione asked. She had been lathering her hair but Draco stepped behind her and took over for her. The water was so warm and inviting she for once didn't want the shower to end, and whenever she was forced to shower or bathe with Draco, she was always racing to get out. "I wanted to go for a walk."

"I want to spoil you rotten, that's the reason," Draco said, smirking. Hands in her hair, he angled them both out of the shower's spray, then tilted her head back, pressed a kiss to her soapy forehead. "As for your walk, you can do that with me where we're going."

Hermione snorted, gestured around them.

"I don't need or want anything. You've provided enough."

"This isn't optional. It's about time you're seen in public again. The way you smiled last night-I want the world to see that."

He rushed her out of the shower when they were done, and with a slow wave of his arm, they were dry instantly. Hermione went to her closet and pulled on the first thing she found.

If there was no getting out of this, she would have to be careful not to spoil his mood. The last thing she wanted was to go out and be around others, but it seemed there was no getting around it.

"We'll see Lucio first, surely."

"Of course." He put on a wristwatch, checked the time. "Too late for breakfast but we could have an early lunch."

He held out a clock for her to step into. Hermione bit back a sigh and went to him.

"I won't give any interviews."

She had been accosted in the past by reporters. Once, years ago, Draco had tried to make her submit to an interview and tell his version of their relationship. He'd been by her side the whole time in a silent threat for her not to deviate, and Hermione had been so stressed by the ordeal of telling blatant lies and having to pretend to be blissfully in love that she'd had a panic attack. Draco had Obliviated the journalist and rushed her back home.

Draco laughed and helped ease her into her cloak.

"You won't have to. All I need is for them to get photos of us together. We're going to be on the Prophet tomorrow, and you'll be the talk of the town."

"Neville will come for Luna. You don't need to go the extra mile just to rub it in."

Draco grinned. "Sweetheart, it's one of the things I enjoy doing most. When he comes to us, I'm going to show him a hundred reasons how he never could have beat me."

He stepped back, his eyes scanning her up and down, but not with the heat of lust. He frowned slightly and made a gesture with his hand.

Already knowing his motive, Hermione looked down at herself and saw that her original simple red dress had been switched out for a white one, close fitting, deep-necked and well-structured with a long skirt that flared out slightly at her knees where it ended. At her throat—the emerald choker.

She raised her brows.

"Are we visiting someone in particular?"

"No," Draco said, with a wry twist of his mouth. "It's a beautiful day and I want to go out with you and show you off. Oblige me, sweetheart."

Despite his calm demeanor and his gentle words, the threat of an order lay like iron beneath it. Hermione relented and wove her arm through his offered one. He held tight to her hand, leaned in and kissed her temple.

"Thank you."

They went to look for Lucio and Pansy.

A/N: she's gonna have him so whipped by the end of this fic y'all

also

"I told you not to come" = "I'm sorry"