Author's Note: All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well.
This chapter has sexual content in it so you are warned. It is very tame really and I have edited it a lot. For those who follow my stories at the other fanfiction site(you can't type the name here for some reason) you know where to find the unedited version.
Thank you all so much for the response to this story. I really to appreciate it and the comments are overwhelming. They are helpful and I can't thank all of the reviewers enough. I just hope I don't let you guys down.
Chapter 14
A Subtle Victory
"Then, Percy ordered everyone to go through the entire file from almost the first generation of Du Mariers." Ron Weasley took a quick sip of his drink before swallowing another bite of potato. "We thought he was trying to prove how devious and dodgy they really were, but instead he only kept the parts of the file that expounded on their few and far between good deeds. Sure, they donate more money than any Wizarding family alive, but that doesn't give them free reign to make everyone miserable when they don't get their own way."
"It's getting out of hand," Harry agreed, wiping his hands with his napkin as he pushed his plate forward. "Even for Percy he's being overly thorough."
"He's being a regular arse," Ginny grumbled, reaching out to take Hermione's hand across the table. "Mum told me he tried to pretend and be interested in you too. Something about he took you to the opera, and I have to say that underhanded little sodding…"
"Ginny, it's all right," Hermione giggled, but agreed with her friend's description of her brother. "I don't think he was pretending at first, but winning the favor of a wealthy and powerful family is much more important. Really, it's not a big deal. I just want it all to be over."
"Mione' maybe this is a sign you ought to just drop this whole elf thing," Harry broke in then with concern. "You've got the shop, and I don't think the Ministry's going to be able and keep it closed for much longer without any evidence. Then you've got those spells you're working on, and if that isn't enough, I'm sure you would always be welcome back at Hogwarts or another Wizarding school."
"We've been through this," Hermione sighed with mild annoyance. "I can't just give up now. This is exactly what they want and I won't give it to them. They've gotten what ever they've asked for or bullied people into giving them for as long as anyone can remember. I won't have them thinking they can get away with anything else."
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron silently knowing to let their trip to Romania remain secret. At least he wouldn't tell Harry while they were in public, but he needed to tell him soon. Then, there was the conversation that he had had with his brothers Fred and George, which was more than curiously, but that he would get back to later. "Well, I have to be in early tomorrow. Percy's determined to conduct another search around the city. Thinks the elf might be hiding on the streets somewhere." Ron moved to stand up and motioned for the waiter over in the corner that they were ready to leave.
The remaining three stood as well, and Ron took the bill, glaring at his sister again. "I know you thought you needed that extra piece of pie, but really since you're making Hermione and I pay for this you could've remembered to hold it down a bit."
"I'm the newlywed and your baby sister Ronald," she smiled sweetly while Harry just shook his head. "My husband and I deserved a dinner with our friends."
Hermione reluctantly said goodnight, and after paying for her part of the bill started back home. She had missed the old days more than she realized, having had her friends to herself for a good three hours. Those days were over, and they each lead their own lives now.
Ron's visits had diminished after he took his job with the Ministry, and Harry and Ginny had been away for so long they had developed a language of their own. They were so much more at ease with one another and seemed oblivious most of the time of anyone else. Everyone was settling in it seemed and Hermione was still dangling trying to find her way.
Nothing was proceeding as Hermione had planned. She had worked it all out before she had graduated. She would steadily work toward making her society a success and soon she would have numerous contributors and benefactors. Except, not everyone saw the cause the same way that she did, no one anymore, really. Even Harry and Ron were beginning to dissuade her when before they had encouraged her in whatever endeavor she pursued. Then again, the hobby had turned hazardous. To be honest, if Malfoy himself was somewhat concerned, well maybe she was only being stubborn and it was too dangerous to continue.
Sighing as she unlocked the door and stepped inside her shop Hermione was surprised to see how dark everything was. It was only a little after nine o'clock and she knew Malfoy didn't sleep until well past midnight. On nights she couldn't sleep herself she heard him below in the cellar sometimes.
Prison had changed him Hermione realized, while turning to lock and charm the door behind her. Malfoy was more cynical about life in general, but who wasn't after the war. Then there was the drastic change that she still was not sure of. He was pleasant to her sometimes, even kind and considerate. It at first was unbelievable and confusing, now maybe she was starting to understand.
He had said she was all he had had on the outside world while in prison and thinking about it that probably explained his altered attitude towards her. Hermione didn't want to think about how he had survived in Azkaban, knowing only the stories of what happened inside the fortress from Harry's godfather Sirius. The wails of the Dementors themselves were enough to drive someone mad.
Shrugging out of her robes Hermione slung them over her arm and decided to go on upstairs. Reading had always soothed her before, but she stopped in mid step frowning. She didn't want to go up to bed and read away her problems. For years she had being doing that and it hadn't solved anything yet and it wasn't going to start helping now.
Continuing on through to the back she looked up the stairs toward her apartment door. Another night alone in her bedroom didn't sound appealing when she was on the verge admitting defeat where her dreams were concerned. The society was useless now and her shop would only be a mediocre accomplishment at best.
The path her thoughts were taking wasn't a healthy one, but they were logical. The new year was only a little over two months away and that should be ample time to judge whether or not it was a wise business decision. If things went fairly smoothly there might be a way to admit to their marriage without too much trouble. Malfoy would get his inheritance, and his freedom like he wanted, and she could have free reign to devote time to charities and other foundations. She knew he had been a little desperate to get her to quit the elvish society when he actually offered to let her hand his money over to a Muggle children's hospital.
The cellar door was opened, but Hermione didn't have the peace of mind to go down there this late in the evening. She thought about calling him up to discuss the arrangement further, and to determine if he was actually serious. Before she conceded to taking his offer into consideration she needed to judge one more time if he was sincere. Biting her lip, and taking a deep breath Hermione leaned her head barely in the door. "Malfoy, are you down there?"
Silence followed her question and Hermione wondered if he might have gone to sleep after all. It was probably for the best anyway. The impulse to discuss the idea with him would pass after a good night's sleep.
She was almost thinking about sharing her decision to withdraw from her society with Malfoy, so that was going to be hard enough. Though she didn't think he would verbally express any triumph he was probably going to repeatedly inform her that she should have abandoned the cause long ago. Shutting the cellar door Hermione didn't think to lock it from the outside as she always did. There wasn't a need to anymore. They had an understanding, and they had their boundaries.
Except in your dreams, Hermione amended mentally to herself, climbing the stairs to her flat. The one the previous evening hadn't been as clear and had not lasted nearly long enough. It was like a guilty pleasure really, going to sleep and knowing the delicious temptations awaiting her in her slumber. That elusive release was always missing however and that had been one of her reasons for thinking about the offer Malfoy proposed.
She was back to considering it again Hermionee realized with some frustration, and slipped into her flat, throwing her robe over the back of her sofa. Strangely, she wasn't surprised when she found Malfoy sitting at her desk reading over some of her journals. If it had been one of her private diaries she would have hexed his eyes for trespassing into her private thoughts, but she suddenly wanted to know his honest opinion.
"I always thought that the group of Gryffindors you clung to so desperately was rather dull. Barely even nine and they're already tucking themselves in bed?" Malfoy commented, not taking his eyes off of a thick manuscript she had been putting together since her last year in school.
"They have their own lives and things to do. Ron's got an early morning at the Ministry and Harry and Ginny are newlyweds," Hermione said simply, bending down to sift through a stack of bills on the coffee table. So far none of them were overdue, but that would change she was sure if the Ministry didn't allow her to open the shop again soon.
"So Potter's an old married man and his wife's assigned him his bedtime? That's
bound to be boring."
"You're a married man and you're sitting reading essays on Transfiguration and counter spells. How exciting is your life right now?" Hermione teased tossing the bills aside again. That was something else that needed to be factored in she supposed, if she decided to give their marriage a trial basis.
Hermione suddenly bit her tongue at what she had just admitted to. Glancing up she hoped Malfoy hadn't heard her, but that was unlikely. Maybe he would ignore the offhanded remark and keep reading. He had gone very still and was staring at her strangely. "Did you get something to eat yourself? I guess I should feel guilty about going out and leaving you here alone," she said hastily, kicking her shoes off into the corner and grabbing her robe to take it to her bedroom.
"Yes, I found something to eat. You've decided haven't you?" he asked, a strange tone in his voice.
"Decided what?" This wasn't how Hermione had meant to broach the topic and so acting as though she wasn't aware of what he was talking about was the best option.
"You know damn well what," Draco snapped, but instantly recovered, and softened the edge to his voice. "The agreement. You've realized that staying married is to your advantage."
"I'm merely considering giving you until the New Year like we discussed," Hermione allowed impatiently, feeling very uncomfortable and shy where the conversation was heading. She had never been sure of herself where men were concerned, and she was even more at a loss as to handle her situation with her husband.
"Considering?" Draco asked, and she heard him push the chair away from the desk and stand. "No, I think you've decided and you've made the right choice."
"Why do you always have to turn my words into something else," she asked, with a hint of a sigh in her voice.
"Because for some reason you can't admit truthfully to what you're thinking or feeling," he shrugged, but kept approaching, her knowing that if she would just say the words it could all be over. "I've never noticed you having any problem putting Potter or Weasel in their place or letting them know how you felt. Actually, you used to be able to make it pretty obvious how much you hated me. Lately, you've been confused though haven't you?"
Hermione kept her back to him not wanting to delve into her own feelings just yet. "I don't hate you Malfoy. You were an evil annoying bastard in school, and I'm not sure about what happened in the tower that night with Dumbledore. Still, like I told you when we…" she faltered not bringing herself to say the actual words, "that night I told you I didn't think you were a cold blooded murderer."
"Do you want to know what happened in the tower?" he asked quietly, so that she turned to him then. "You know Potter's version and I'll give the prat this, it didn't look to be in my favor."
"I'm listening," Hermione encouraged, and walked to seat herself on her small sofa.
He studied her for a second and realized that right now was the perfect opportunity to share some of what took place that night. It wasn't his entire fault. Really, hardly any of it, but he wasn't innocent either. "All right where do you want me to begin?"
She waited until he was sitting next to her and watched him run his palms down his thighs in a nervous gesture. "Did you really let the Death Eaters in or did Snape force you to?"
"That I did on my own. Snape actually isn't the villain here either. My father took me with him one night for a meeting with the Dark Lord. When Voldemort asked you a question you answered him, and you told him what he wanted to hear. Basically, before the night was over I had agreed to help the Death Eaters overrun our school or face punishment. If I failed he would kill my mother while I watched."
"It wasn't until later in the year that Voldemort ordered me to kill Dumbledore. By this time I knew the plan was out of hand. I went to Snape who already had vowed to my mother that he would help me and make certain I carried out my orders. She was trying to protect me and so was the professor." Malfoy stopped then to gauge Hermione's reaction before continuing. She wasn't looking at him in disgust or anger just concentrating on his words intently. Always inquisitive and eager to give anyone a chance to explain themselves he thought, and almost smiled at the notion.
"Snape killed Dumbledore because you couldn't? That's what Harry said anyways," Hermione whispered when it seemed that he wasn't going to finish his story
"In a round about way maybe that's how it was, but truthfully Dumbledore knew the attack was coming. He, like Snape and myself, didn't know when. If Dumbledore had been at the castle I would have gone to warn him before opening the school to the wrath of the Death Eaters. Instead, I received the message a few hours before Dumbledore and Potter were supposed to return." Then everything had gone wrong from that point. Dumbledore was dead, Snape and himself considered murderers, and Hogwarts left in a shambles, along with the Ministry's reputation for keeping its citizens safe.
"Why didn't you warn McGonagall?" Hermione asked, trying to be fair and listen, but remembering all of the death and destruction. She herself had been hurt in the attack and it wasn't something she was willing to easily forget.
"She didn't know about the plan, and by the time I had appeased the band of Death Eaters that were on their way inside the school it was too late. Everything happened so fast and then at the last second I was afraid I was actually going to have to kill Dumbledore. Except, we had enchanted a wand so though I might have had to actually use the words the Killing Curse wouldn't affect him." Potter had been watching the entire exchange between Dumbledore and Snape, Draco remembered and he had wanted to scream at the scar headed bastard to send out a shield around the old man.
"Why did Snape intercede then? Why did he still call out the curse?" Tears were starting to form in the corners of Hermione's eyes. It hurt even years later to remember the events of that day. Even though Draco's situation was dire it seemed, facing his death and his own mother's as well, many others had died as a result of his choices.
"Voldemort himself was watching, he was seeing through Snape's eyes. He had enchanted him with the Curse of the Seer. Though he had tried to honor his vow to Dumbledore and the Ministry, to remain true to the fight against the Darkness, he had to honor his Unbreakable Vow to my mother first."
"I couldn't have killed him Hermione and I didn't want to see the school invaded either. Except, you've never been present for a punishment issued by Voldemort himself. It isn't pleasant. However, I'm not going to lie and say that I believed what Dumbledore was teaching either. By the time the school was besieged, frankly I didn't care if Voldemort, Potter, and Dumbledore killed one another and ended all of the conflict," he finished the last sentence in a soft disgusted tone. "I'm not noble and I didn't have any loyalty to the cause that Potter and Dumbledore touted, but I didn't want to end up locked away in Azkaban like my father."
"If this is true, why didn't you tell the Ministry this? Why didn't you try and prove your innocence and come back to school?"
"Dumbledore, Snape and myself were the only ones who knew of our plan to fake Dumbledore's death. The Ministry wasn't interested in what I had to say and they had Crabbe and Goyle's testimony that I had murdered Muggles. It was open and shut, no need for Veritaserum or Legilimancy, or so I was told," he drawled, remembering how he had once begged them to administer the potion, a Malfoy had begged. Every plea had fallen on deaf ears, the deaf ears of one Percy Weasley.
"I don't know what to say," Hermione sniffed, but she wasn't able to hold the tears back. What he had said wasn't very different from Harry's version, but told from a different perspective. The war had been over for only a short time and it was still like a raw wound to speak about it. Reliving that day, remembering Dumbledore's funeral, watching students trudge back diligently to a castle that had been their home and was reduced to parts of rubble and ash in places was still too agonizing.
"Do you believe what I'm telling you?" For some reason in that moment Draco would have given anything to hear her say yes. Everyone had abandoned him, and now he would die before admitting it out loud, but he needed her acceptance. If there wasn't ever anything else she would believe about him, she at least had to know about this, he was telling the truth.
"I want to," Hermione said truthfully, a feeling of sorrow for his own situation washing over her. Malfoy had been as lost and alone as the rest of them in those days she realized. If he hadn't been so stubborn and hateful someone, other than Snape, might have noticed. Harry had known something wasn't right, but as Malfoy was never forthcoming with his feelings, he had accounted it as Malfoy's odd behavior in general. "You should have told someone. You should have let someone help you sooner."
Sighing Malfoy realized how foolish it was to expect her to simply discount Potter and believe him. Even if he was her husband Potter and Weasley meant more to her than he ever could. "Forget it. I'm surprised you listened as long as you did."
"Wait, Malfoy," she stammered, reaching out for him when he bounded to his feet. Then that was it she realized. No one had listened to him before, and now she had as much as admitted that wasn't listening either.
Coming to her feet she shuffled after him and caught his hand before he could get to the door. "Draco, I said wait," Hermione snapped, knowing it would be the only tone that he would heed.
He whirled to face her and for the first time she saw something vulnerable in his gaze. Pain, and what might have been rejection were present in his light eyes and she suddenly allowed herself to look at the situation as a whole. Malfoy was obviously a powerful wizard, but he couldn't have easily fought off the affects of Veritaserum and Legilimancy together. He obviously had been willing, and the Ministry had denied him those tools to help him prove his innocence.
Hermione knew that at times she let herself believe only the best in people, but this was Malfoy, and she knew him better than most in her circle of friends. Know your enemy. That was what he had been day in and day out insulting her, bullying her, and making her classes miserable. "You are telling the truth aren't you?"
Standing so still he was almost not breathing Draco was sure he hadn't heard her correctly. She kept staring back at him, and he felt the same stab of anger at the fact Hermione might be pitying him again. Then, he looked closer, and it was compassion and remorse. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and he couldn't tell if they were from the memories he surely had drawn to the surface, or for him.
"Someone should have seen something. Harry knew something was wrong and he should have made more of an effort to see what it was. It wasn't fair. We were all children and everyone expected us to be brave and never hesitate," Hermione whispered, shaking her head sadly.
This wasn't exactly the reaction Draco had hoped for. He was elated that she believed him. For once he'd managed to find a way to edge past her adoration for Potter and Weasel and earn her trust. Although, she was crying and she didn't do that in front of him. At first he had liked it that way, and now it was as if she was letting him see her for the first time.
"What's done is done. It's over and there's no use crying about it now," he said gruffly not sure how to comfort her. He didn't know how to be gentle and soothing. His mother had never really cried in front of him and other women were always so red faced and sniveling when they did he steered clear of them.
Swallowing hard Hermione simply let her emotions overtake her. Coming forward she stepped upward on her toes and put her arms around his neck embracing him. "I'm sorry."
That stunned him even more and Draco had to tell himself mentally to wrap his arms around her to pull her to him. What the hell was she sorry for? His father had gotten too hungry for power and given himself in service to Voldemort. His mother had meekly went along with whatever grand schemes his father devised, and he himself had plainly nursed his hatred for Muggles and Muggle-Born wizards without much encouragement. In a way, everyone was to blame for his situation except her. "For what? You didn't do anything," he murmured, not sure how to proceed.
Was this what it was like to have another person care what happened to you, if you were hurt or in pain? It was an odd feeling, but enjoyable. Instead of thinking he had bested Potter by stealing some of Hermione's affections he simply let himself take pleasure in her attitude toward him.
"No, but I can be sorry for what's happened can't I?" she whispered back, and her breath fell against his neck in a soft caress.
Hermione would save the world or die trying probably, Draco thought dryly, but in that moment he wasn't interested in letting her save anyone. Not even him. She'd done far too much of that and it was time for her to let herself be happy. "That was years ago. Besides, if I hadn't been in prison you wouldn't have gotten your inheritance. Who else would have been mad enough to marry you?"
She pulled away, eyes wide ready to snap at him, but he was grinning at her. "We've just discussed a monumental moment in both of our lives, and you're trying to make jokes and tease me?"
"You're not crying anymore are you?" he asked, pleased that he had managed to extricate himself from the terrifying position of consoling her. What had frightened Draco the most was the urge to sweep her up and rock her like a child, talking softly, and holding her tight. That was something that would have brought too many emotions to the surface and force him to consider things that he wasn't ready to think about yet.
"Women cry Malfoy, get used to it. You're the one who wants to stay married," Hermione sighed, realizing the moment was over and he had replaced his vulnerability with biting humor. She had liked seeing him when he was willing to be open and show that inside he had the same fears and doubts as the rest of the world.
"So do you, want to stay married that is," he said feeling a profound loss as Hermione slipped away. She seemed upset about something, and that had been an excessively tame joke really.
"We'll discuss it in the morning. I think we've relived the past enough this evening don't you?" Maybe if she fell asleep she'd have a dream about him, the Malfoy who wasn't afraid to express with actions that he wanted her. That would be comforting.
Malfoy didn't want to discuss it in the morning. He didn't want her to go, put herself to bed alone, and give him an unspoken order to retreat to the cellar by closing the door in his face. "There isn't anything else to discuss. You made your decision and I don't think you want me to leave tonight anymore than I do."
Hermione faltered on her way toward her bedroom at the outright assertion that he was refusing to go downstairs. Straightening her back she forced herself not to turn and face him. "Good night, Malfoy. We'll discuss this in the morning."
"All right, first thing when we wake up I'll turn over and you can tell me all the reasons why you want to stay married to me. Hopefully, after tonight they'll be a few more to add to your list." Not tonight. Draco wasn't going to walk away and lie alone in that cellar. Hermione was his wife. She wanted to give him a fair chance to prove they should make their marriage work. He was going to take whatever opportunities she was offering.
"I didn't make a list," she snipped at him impatiently, and made the mistake of forgetting to ignore him completely. When Hermione turned around he was already standing in front of her and did not wait for her consent to go about his objective.
"Of course you didn't. The reasons to stay with me would have been too many to write down. You would have ran out of parchment," he arrogantly teased her again. If she was arguing with him using words and focusing on clever retorts she wouldn't be as likely to try and resist what he had in mind until it was too late.
"I'm afraid the reasons to divorce you outweigh the reasons to stay with you," Hermione said, only halfway paying attention to what Malfoy was doing. He was too conceited, so what had possessed her to consider any of this.
Pleased when he had managed to pull her hair out of the loose knot at the back of her neck Draco kept his eyes on hers, smirking at her last remark. "That's no way to talk to the man who helped you get all of that money now is it? You never told me why you had to get married? Why did the will have that particular stipulation?"
Backing up while he kept asking her questions Hermione sighed with aggravation. "My mother had an aunt, and I think Neville told you that part. Aunt June was a little eccentric. She never got married and she thought I should share the money with someone. I don't know she was barking really, but I thought I needed the money. Look at where that got me. The first time I got greedy I ended up with a secret that's grown too big to keep, a convict for a husband, and the reasons for getting the money are useless now."
"What reasons are useless now?" Draco asked, closing the bedroom door behind them with the heel of his shoe. In the back of him mind he was hoping she'd say she was through with that elf society of hers S.P.E.W. He'd always thought the name itself was something a Muggle threw up.
"Well you and everyone else will be thrilled to know that I'm giving up on the society. I'm going to be boring, and research, and sit in my shop hoping it reopens." He was really getting too much information out of her tonight, and Hermione didn't like the feeling of giving him anymore of the control as far as their situation was concerned.
"You won't be boring if you decide to put your well being before someone else's for once in your life. Besides being married to a Malfoy is never boring. Think of how much fun you can have decorating the manor or throwing parties."
Draco doubted Hermione would jump at the chance to decorate everything or hold lavish celebrations. She wasn't one to flaunt anything, but it would do her good to let herself go every once in awhile. She'd been so proper and responsible for so long. Though he'd appreciated that it helped her maintain a certain amount of tempting innocence, it was time she allowed herself to be a woman, not the person everyone, namely Potter and Weasely, turned to for guidance and advice.
"We're taking this a day at a time. I don't want to redecorate your home and I wouldn't know anything about throwing a party for wealthy Pureblooded families," she frowned at him actually turning when he nodded for her to do so. Hermione was so busy debating every single comment he made that she wasn't paying attention to his true intentions.
"You belong to a wealthy Pureblood family now so you'd better learn," Hermione stated unzipping the light evening dress at the back. "And for Merlin's sake don't ask me if there's a book about it. I'll teach you everything you need to know to act like a wife in public, and in private."
"I'm sure there is a book somewhere and how would you know how a wife should act?" She shrugged her shoulders letting the material slide down a bit and that's when her realization came. Quickly Hermione grabbed the garment, and kept it from sliding down any farther. "What, Malfoy what are you doing? I thought we were going to talk about this agreement in the morning?"
"Oh we can discuss it in the morning, but right now I think you should practice on being a wife in private." She was becoming aware of herself again, but that wasn't going to be a problem.
"I think you should go back down stairs," Hermione whispered and shuddered when Dracp pushed her hair to one side. He then started kissing her shoulder before working his way up to her neck and finally her ear. Then he slowly slid his tongue around the lobe until she leaned back against him and tilted her head to the side.
"Not tonight," he breathed against her skin. "You wouldn't have unconsciously let me follow you in here if you didn't want this to happen."
"We shouldn't it's too soon," she bit her lip on a soft moan that would have escaped her just then. His hands had come around and for some reason her grip on her dress faltered. She let him drop the garment to the floor and caress her breasts through the thin silk of her bra.
"I disagree, I think it's been too long since the last time, that night in the carriage." Hermione had been instinctively arching herself and inadvertently rubbing her backside against his groin until Draco was growing achingly hard with wanting her. A little more hastily than he had intended he unhooked the flimsy undergarment and freed her breasts, lightly biting her shoulder as he traced his fingers over her nipples softly. They hardened quickly without much coaxing.
"That really wasn't, I mean…" Hermione couldn't form a sentence now, and actually it had been her arguing with him that had led them to where they were now.
"Not for you no, but this will be," he promised starting to trail feathery kisses down her spine while his hands kept roaming over her skin. Skimming the sensitive flesh of her belly near her navel Draco smiled as she jumped and cried out quietly, before he hooked around her hips and began to slide her underwear down her thighs. When they reached her knees they fell without a sound to the floor. It surprised him when Hermione freely stepped from them herself and turned to face him.
Hermione had known how it would be if Draco ever approached her like this in reality, outside her dreams. Her dreams had made her too susceptible to him and she would be lying if she said that it wasn't delightful to see him kneeling before her, wanting her. What surprised her the most was the genuine look of longing and affection there in his gaze. She had always thought herself beneath him in some way, even though she told herself she ignored his prejudiced insults.
Tomorrow she might regret it, but tonight, with the moon shining into her room and the man before her touching her so gently and purposefully, Hermione didn't care. "Why did you bring up that night? I didn't think you wanted to remember it, or that you enjoyed it at all."
Draco heard her question, but it took a moment to respond. This wasn't exactly how he had pictured having her again when he had lain awake in prison. Hermione had always been spread out, arms beckoning him, hair splayed over green silk encased pillows and sheets. Location didn't matter, and even though it was a three-room apartment above a second hand shop she was there, standing before him. Sweeping his gaze down her body, from her soft wavy hair that framed her beautifully flushed face, to her rounded breasts, flat belly, and curving hips, he was half afraid she was another dream. "I enjoyed it too much," he admitted before he could think of a better answer. Somehow the truth here wasn't such a bad thing. It really probably helped his position.
Slowly Draco stood gliding his fingers up her thighs and again over her stomach and breasts. Threading his fingers through her hair he drew himself up to his full height to tower over her. "Later, when I found out I was pardoned I used to think of what I would do if I was released. I also wondered what would've happened if I'd escaped that night."
For some reason Hermione felt the need to push aside her timidity. Gingerly she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants and unbuttoned it quickly, sure she would lose her nerve if she didn't make haste. "What would you have done if you had?"
Releasing her only long enough to slip the shirt from his shoulders and toss it aside Draco cupped her face in his hands. "I would have come back for you," he whispered taking her mouth in a kiss that wasn't as gentle as she imagined it would have been but more gratifying and arousing.
In his haste and impatience Hermione felt his teeth grazing her bottom lip as he slanted his mouth over hers. It was as if Draco couldn't satisfy himself taking possession of her lips brutally again and again until she tasted blood. This time it wasn't intended as a punishment, as their parting kiss had been in the carriage. Simply, it seemed he was devouring her and she was hungrily accepting his passionate pursuit.
Without persuasion Hermione opened her mouth for him wondering if her dreams had done justice to what reality could offer. She thought then she might grow dizzy when his tongue boldly stroked with her own. She couldn't breathe, but the sensation added to the heavy mist of desire enveloping her.
Her shyness was waning with each second and Hermione reached between them to help him remove his pants. There was no going back tonight, and Draco wasn't being cruel or spiteful. He hadn't been for many weeks. Also there was nothing wrong with what she was doing at all. He was her husband. She was slowly starting to accept the fact and it wasn't as distasteful as she first believed.
Afraid she would get too nervous Draco finished the job for her, and pulled away briefly to mutter a spell that had his shoes removed and lying in the corner. He wasn't about to let Hermione go long enough to let her think of any reasons why she shouldn't be doing what her heart wanted not and not what her mind told her was proper. Unlacing the ugly work boots would have taken too much time. His mouth readily found hers again and he was only slightly aware of her small hand with her palm flat running down his chest and lightly over his stomach. Draco jerked her hand back and pushed her roughly onto the bed. In a rush he was covering her body with his own, parting her thighs with his knee.
As before, the moment he joined their bodies, instinct told Hermione to meet each thrust with her hips rising and falling, finding the rhythm he set without difficulty. Hermione's nails were now digging into his back no longer caressing, and then she was twisting her fingers in his hair. Pulling on the back of his head she tried to ease Draco down so she could feel his mouth on hers.
He gazed back at her, his features drawn into a tense determination watching her discover pleasure. Draco decided without a doubt that no one except him would ever know her like this. Hermione was more beautiful than she realized. He'd kill anyone who tried to discover how magnificent she was uninhibited and free.
Frantically Hermione also knew she was about to find a release to the almost painful fire and raw need spiraling within her. "Please," she pleaded, craving the feel of his lips again.
However in the next second Draco drove himself inside of her so deeply her body took on a will of its own. Hermione reached up and over the crest of her longing, letting herself fly apart as a wave of rapture caught her in its torrent. It carried her higher, finally letting her rest again safely in the arms of her husband, but not until she had cried out, shamelessly clutching his shoulders and arching her hips to maintain her blissful state.
As Hermione clenched and propelled her body upward to meet his fury Draco reached his own climax, his deep rumbling groan mingling with her fading cry of wonder and satisfaction. Burying his face along side her neck and feeling her heart thudding against his chest, the smell of gardenias and lemons in her hair evoked more tender feelings. Raising himself up on his elbows Draco watched her struggle to regain her breath as much as he was trying to steady his own.
When Hermione didn't say anything for a long while he frowned and stroked her cheek once. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? You were more than ready," Draco's hand froze above her cheek as tears slid from her eyes she had tightly shut.
Not answering him Hermione buried her face into his shoulder alarming him that something was terribly wrong. She hadn't said anything about not being comfortable. She was raking his back, well clawing at him actually, so she hadn't given any indication she wanted him to stop. If she was having regrets he hadn't expected those until she woke up the next morning. She seemed to have trouble in the light of day admitting to her desires for some reason. "Hermione," Draco said, tentatively. This wasn't how he wanted to end the night, with her sobbing and miserable.
"Nothing's wrong," Hermione murmured, but it was muffled against his skin. "It was too perfect."
Sighing with relief Draco didn't hesitate to give in to his urge to hold her this time when her tears came. Something had changed in those last few moments and he didn't want to examine it too closely yet. Right now he was content, that after a year of waiting, wanting, and thinking to never have her again Hermione was here.
Rolling to his side Draco kept her against him lightly running his fingers in a caress meant to soothe not arouse over her thigh. Hermione was already curling up against him, pressing herself next to his body where she fit perfectly and would always belong. Dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead he kept whispering reassurances until her breathing grew steady and even. Watching the rise and fall of her chest he knew she was asleep and pulled a blanket around them both securely.
Even though Draco was more confused as to where he stood and what he wanted from her, he was more satisfied than he had been for years. It was humbling really to know how Hermione had opened herself to him without restraint, when years earlier he had tormented her, and though it made him sick to remember it, he had enjoyed it. He had made her miserable, he had been too weak to defy his father outright or ask for help when he needed it, and he had selfishly vowed to keep her simply to maintain his family's traditions and reputation.
Running a finger over Hermione's cheek and down to her jaw idly Draco saw her smile in her sleep, and his heart actually leapt in his chest. Maybe he could figure out what it felt like. Maybe he already knew, but he didn't know how to show it or express it with words. Well, Draco wasn't still so selfish and spoiled that he didn't want her to admit to it openly first. Then again, did Hermione feel that way or was her display tonight simply because he had given her pleasure?
This was why he had never complicated his life with only a single woman, and let them weave their emotions and romantic ideas into his head. Draco wasn't sure of himself where this subject was concerned, but arrogantly he was going to make certain she felt the same way. Hermione wasn't a girl who displayed her emotions for anyone and she was so open and expressive tonight. It was making him hard again just remembering her first tiny whimpers and mewling cries.
A confident smirk graced his features then, and Draco nestled closer to his wife. A year ago he had thought to himself that the term wife wouldn't have been so bad as long as it had been anyone but Granger. Curling an arm around her possessively he realized his statement should have been corrected. Now, no one but Hermione would do.