For Peanutbuttertoast1. Inspired by The Heiress of Slytherin by Peanutbuttertoast1. Please be advised that I am not JKR. I do not own the Harry Potter universe or any recognizable character. Thank you. I also do not own the delightful alternate universe created by Peanutbuttertoast1.
[During the month between Chapters 75 and 76 of Peanutbuttertoast's absolutely fantastic Heiress of Slytherin]
Gazing into Hermione's glittering eyes, Draco knew he was fucked. A simple, ignorant comment at lunch had nearly turned into a bloodbath because Draco beat Hermione to the reply. As they left the great hall, she'd quietly told him she'd let him know of her displeasure in the evening. Classes, dinner, studies and prefect rounds later, he stood alone with his angry witch in the tranquility of after curfew, in the privacy of their Room. She'd had hours to plan what she was going to do with him. He only hoped she loved him too much to kill him.
She glanced around their room and then spoke some of the most terrifying words that could pass between witch and wizard. "We need to talk."
Draco summoned a great bouquet of flowers, and pulled some chocolates and sugar quills from his stash in the dorms. Except with her, he'd never had to apologize for much of anything, but he was learning the basics of the skill fairly quickly.
"You can't keep doing this, Draco," she said in a near whisper, her expression very Slytherin and hard to read.
"I can't stop protecting you, Hermione. I just can't."
"We shall see."
Her eyes grew more intense and the Room of Requirements responded to her needs, summoning an ivory wand stand centered atop the dresser flanked by two glass vases. As Hermione settled the bouquet in one of the vases, Draco looked at the display with dismay. A wandless wizard was inherently vulnerable. Though he could cast a number of spells wandlessly, his repertoire would be significantly reduced. He summoned more flowers for the second vase and resigned himself to his fate, if only to keep from making things worse. A slight shiver ran through his body as gave up his wand, placing it gently on the stand. The shiver deepened as his robe and clothes were magically whisked away. It seemed she wanted him at every disadvantage.
She kissed him thoroughly, almost violently, pushing his hands aside when he tried to lay them possessively on her shoulder and waist. When he felt their bed at the back of his legs, she stepped away from him. She raised her wand slowly, with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
This side of her left him breathless, and with no way to hide his body's reaction, they both knew it. He could name eight jinxes off the top of his head that began in that wand position, more if he had time to think about it, and none of them pleasant. Despite his intention to not defend himself from her, when her wand came down he couldn't quite tame his own instinct. He took her Petrificus Totalus hands first, his incomplete shield blown apart by the power of her spell.
Sensitive fingers swarmed over his skin, sending ribbons of fire curling through his body, and the shape of his punishment became apparent. It was only fair, he mused briefly. He'd taught her the delights of sensual torture himself in a fit of pique over her secret keeping. It hadn't taken her long at all to turn the lesson back on him. His cock swelled even harder in anticipation. She had him exactly where she wanted him, with all the time in the world to extract her revenge for his overprotectiveness.
When her fingers slipped down his stomach to lightly stroke his cock, he lost all sense of time and thought. Her teasing caresses drove him wild as she ever so slowly built up the layers of his passion. The moist warmth of her lips rocked him to his core, but she kept her strokes to that same grueling slow pace, gently sliding up and down endlessly. It was heaven and hell, bundled together in delightful agony.
He wanted to ball up his fists, entwine his fingers through her hair, and shove her face down his shaft to the root. More than anything, he wanted to buck his hips, thrust deep within her until he exploded. But he could do nothing but receive the exquisite torment she inflicted on him. If the curse weren't holding him upright, he would have long since fallen to his knees.
His body was only permitted involuntary reactions. He could breathe, but couldn't manage more than ragged shallow gasps. His heart could beat, wildly pumping intoxicating hormones through his body. He could blink, but only when his eyes demanded it. He could not close out the mirror reflecting her magnificent lips suckling his cock with excruciating, maddening slowness.
He wanted to scream out in frustration, demand more, faster, harder, now. He wanted to plead, offer her the moon, the universe, anything, everything. But he could not form words, only groan with each panting breath. And when his breathless moans expressed the peak of his desperation, he discovered she could inflict an even greater torture.
She stopped.
For the rest of their lives, they would both remember the uncontrolled, mewling whine that escaped him as she pulled away and stood up. She would always be amused to his everlasting chagrin.
She blasted him with several chilling jinxes to speed along his recovery from her attentions, and when his breathing finally evened out, dropped her curse. His hands clenched reflexively into fists while he struggled to gain control of himself, but he kept them raised. He knew better than to try anything. This was his punishment and he had no choice but to take it like a man. He truly didn't want to know what she would devise if he didn't.
"Hermione please. I love you, always forever."
"And will you insist on continuing your recent behavior?"
He gasped at the unfairness. "Please! I must protect you. I need to keep you safe!"
The look she gave him told him everything he needed to know. His answer was incorrect, and he'd failed the test she'd placed before him. He didn't even try to block her curse as she dropped to a comfortable position in front of him, grinning wickedly. She really was going to kill him, and he loved her for it. He never imagined dying could feel so agonizingly sweet.
The limited self control he'd garnered from her chilling jinxes fell apart quickly as her ministrations renewed the heat of his arousal. With his body no longer at his own command, though, failure was no longer possible. Survival couldn't be either, but that was less of a concern. Above all else, he didn't want to disappoint his witch any more than he already had.
Her assault on his cock was slow, warm, relentless, deep and methodical. She pushed his arousal to the edge of oblivion but refused to allow him relief. Instead, she slowed things down just enough to cool off his ardor, with a helpful spell or two, only to build back up to even greater intensity than before.
Because of the Petrificus, he could not voluntarily control any function of his body. He could not maintain his usual icy, calm demeanor to hide any perceivable weakness. His body's responses were utterly honest, incredibly easy to read. She took full advantage of this aspect of her chosen curse to ruthlessly drive him completely out of his mind.
It took much more time and many more chilling charms to cool him down for the next round of questioning.
"Is there anything you'd like to say to me?"
There was no point in bringing up his sins again, as they both knew he wouldn't change. Draco answered out of desperation before he thought his words through.
"Merlin! Hermione have mercy."
The look on her face was almost comical. He'd truly surprised her, but then, he'd surprised himself, too.
"Draco Malfoy, did you honestly just beg for mercy? I did not know that word was in your vocabulary."
Her surprise faded into a glint in her eyes that informed him of his mistake. His appeal to her mother's side of her nature was answered by her paternal inheritance instead.
"I'd thought to save this one for another time, but for that you deserve anything."
As a distraction, his inelegant plea had succeeded beyond hope, though the fire definitely seemed hotter than the cauldron. But her obvious delight at his predicament dissolved his brief regret.
"Negare consummavi!"
He'd never heard of this particular jinx and reckoned it likely to be a Hermione original since she hadn't even moved her hands to cast it. The warmth flooding through his loins did not bode well for him. But instead of body binding him again, she pushed him backwards onto the bed. Clearing her own clothing away with another flick of her hand, she pounced on top of him.
"Fuck me Draco! Fuck me like you can't help yourself!"
More delightful orders he'd never heard in his life. At the sight of her, naked and willing, he was completely lost to desire. He flipped her onto her back and assaulted her mouth with kisses even as he lined up their bodies and dove into her warm depths. He briefly pondered that he should have gone down on her to make sure she was ready, but that thought quickly faded into the general vagueness of 'maybe next time' as he thrust faster and harder, exactly as she'd been making him crave all night long.
She was gloriously wet, embracing him into her depths with abandon. She'd been stoking her own fires along with his, and it wasn't long before she began panting and crying out his name. As her body clamped down around his cock, squeezing him in that exquisite way that usually pulled him into bliss along with her, he understood just how diabolical her jinx truly was.
He couldn't cum.
Groaning miserably, he continued thrusting, driving her orgasm to completion and desperately seeking his own satisfaction. Her cascade of pleasure, each rippling tremor stronger than the last, gripped his cock tighter and tighter, assaulting his very sanity as he rode the edges of bliss, unable to fall headlong into oblivion. His need to orgasm blended with his need for her, melding into his soul.
And Draco Malfoy, acknowledged prince of the House of Slytherin, prefect, second of his class, destined for great things, intended son-in-law of the Dark Lord himself, having already earned a seat at the Dark Lord's table and a Dark Mark upon graduation, Draco Malfoy broke under the tender torture at the hands of his intended. He broke, and it didn't matter. She was his witch and he would do anything for her. If she wanted him to grovel, he would. Absolutely. He didn't know what he was saying, he no longer cared what he was saying. Everything he was belonged to her. If she wanted his sanity, it was already hers to do with as she pleased. He was promised to her and could hold nothing back.
He held his sated witch in his arms and kissed her gently, but her impish grin told him she wasn't done with him yet.
He couldn't resist her, could never deny her. With another tortured groan, he pressed deeply into her again, seeking out just the right angle to pursue her passion one more time. His thrusts increased in tempo, instinctively following timeless rhythms. He didn't notice when she cancelled her jinx, as the heat of his lust far exceeded the mild warmth of the spell's fading. When she writhed beneath him, whimpering his name, he expected pure frustration. Instead, he was blown away by the explosion that ripped through him as wave after wave of his essence pumped into her. The shocking intensity of his release tore him apart and healed him at the same time. He collapsed beside her, barely conscious.
After a while, he discovered warm fingers kneading into his chest, helping center himself again. She had shifted them both so she was big spoon with her arms wrapped around him, nuzzling into his shoulder blades as he recovered. Once he was physically capable of controlled movement, he turned to face her.
"Witch! The things you do to me!"
"Are you suitably punished?" She smirked. "I should've asked when you rambled so articulately."
"Little minx! My answer will not change."
"Of course not. But now you know the price of it."
His treacherous body went rigid with that promised return of his evening's ordeal, and his surge of passion darkened the silver of his eyes. Hermione gasped as another orgasm rippled through her, fueled solely by the knowledge of just how much she affected him. It was the most erotic and terrifying thing he'd ever seen, and he held her tightly to him while she regained her poise. She planted both palms on his chest and pushed just far enough away to look him square in the eyes.
"Draco Malfoy, neither of us can truly stop the other from doing any damn thing we please. But I can make sure you only do it when you mean it."
He nodded. He could agree on that much. He pulled his witch in for a long kiss. This night wasn't quite over yet.
[First Game of Year Seven: Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw]
Draco settled Hermione next to Daphne in the stands and made his apologies. They'd seen Lucius in the professors stands and Draco wanted to check in. With Slytherin not playing, Lucius most likely had a reason for coming out, though he attended more such functions for visibility as his movement towards the upcoming Ministry election gained popularity.
"Good morning, Draco. You look quite cheerful."
Draco greeted his father, his expression not changing one whit. "Good morning, Father. Hermione has agreed to attend all the games this year. We're rooting for Ravenclaw today, of course."
Lucius nodded. "Have her affections for you surmounted her distaste for such a vicious sport with no redeeming qualities?"
"No," Draco snorted. "It seems her honored father has provided instruction in the joys of combining trivial decisions with randomized outcomes."
"And she finds this unexpectedly redeeming. Yes, our Lord made a bet with her at the finale last season. She was as pleased by your catch as you were."
Draco nodded. "She would have been bored at the DMLE, though we could have seen more of each other."
"There's time enough for that in the years to come. Her travels served her well. Praytell, what trivial decision would hold her attention for the entire season?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "She came up with a jinx, a pretty good one. I know the words but not the wanding, and she'll show me if Slytherin takes the Cup."
"And if not?"
Draco glanced out at the pitch, seemingly bored. "I don't get to ask again for seven years."
Lucius knew his son and heir well enough to catch the very well-hidden awkwardness, and politely limited expressing his amusement to the same well-hidden depths. "I see. And the team?"
"They have no idea why I'm pushing them so hard at practices. If I actually breathed fire, they wouldn't be surprised."
"I see. Good luck, son. With that witch, you'll need it. By the way, your mother would like lunch at your next Hogsmeade day. Greengrass and Yaxley are also invited."
Draco nodded. "Thank you, Father. We'll look forward to it. And Hermione's parents?"
"Have not yet replied to their invitation."
"I will pass word to Greengrass. I'm sure she'll be delighted."
Draco bowed respectfully and made his way back to the Slytherin stands.
Thanks again to JKR for creating such an inspiring original universe, and to Peanutbuttertoast1 for creating an excellent AU. Happy Christmas to all!