Hermione stumbled on a tree root, cursing at the earth and runs toward the Shrieking shack, and god knows there was no _time_.
She has so much to do, and so little time to do it and we're in the middle of a war and all I can think is, 'just one last time'.
I feel guilty in my betrayal to the bottom of my bones, aching with how cruel it might turn out to be, what are the consequences.
Consequences that can't seem to matter, don't matter, will matter, I wonder briefly how history will remember us- me, ron, harry.
Will I be considered a traitor?
I prod the tree root we shouldn't have been chasing when we were kids and tumble in, anxious, so damn anxious, and wet all at once, embarassingly, the way you'd been standing in a normal street and suddenly you can feel your panties are soaked, and the incredible anxiety of wondering if this will be the time he doesn't come-
but I needn't worry, his hands are on my neck and lips are on my throat and he smells like too many cleaning charms uttered in the dark and something thats entirely himself, warm skin and musk and sex.
-
she tumbles through the door like a tumbleweed, wearing clothes that are filthy, hair wild with a life of its own and for a moment- a flash of memory- her hair twining around my wand after a fast fuck, determined and with a life of its own. Just like her. Before she can speak my lips are on hers, and shes warm and a little musty, body firm, someone attuned and ready for a fight, even if at first glance you don't think it.
She groans into my mouth and presses up against me and suddenly I'm harder than stone, despite the pressure, the incredible daily pressure that lives on my spine, pushing me down and down and down, the fear of dying in this war, and yet I'm here, here again ready to touch the brightest witch of our age and although I've never said so, never talked about it, i'm on the wrong side and I know it and every time I fuck her its like a taste of hard bought redemption I can never have, because I can never abandon my family, ever.
I'm a malfoy, we just don't. Every time I come back I don't tell my father, and he doesn't ask, but he looks at me, speculatively, wondering. But he never asks.
I kiss her hard, pushing her back towards the couch until the backs of her knees press against it and she buckles, suddenly 'Malfoy' she says and I put a hand on her mouth and 'shhh' and I bend down towards my own oblivion.
He pushes me back into the couch, shushing me, pushing the troubles away but the fights about to begin and he needs to know, we need to say goodbye- we never speak here but this might be the very last time and I want to say so many things, tell him to call for me when its over, know already that I'll lie about him being on our side, know already I'll stand before the wizengamot and beg for his life. I'm thinking that I hope that everything else I've done will save us, that it might count, against the traitorous truth- i love draco. I don't know when it happened but I do, and then the thought is gone and his hand is on my cunt and his tongue is on my clit and I can't breathe as he circles his tongue, slowly, and who ever would have imagined the pureblood on his knees eating out the mudblood, the indelible scarred evidence on my arm. Real and true as fire and ink.
Looking at her, shivering and filthy and fighting a war, shaking with awareness, something that I didn't even know was there gives out, and I'm not sure if I want to fuck her or kill her as she shakes, gently, with arousal.
"Stop me. Tell me to stop, Granger. Tell me to stop or I'm going to fuck you right here on this couch in this godforsaken place'. As if I haven't done it before, once, twice, a dozen times.
She says nothing and I realize, as I feel her against me and and her hot breath on my neck that here, I'm not the malfoy I thought I was, and that after this i never will be.
I don't even know who i am anymore, but I don't think she does, either. She looks at me with all the fierce determination I always hated her for and says 'what are you waiting for' and she tastes like hot oblivion and the aftertaste of firewhiskey and forest leaves.
I turn her over, gentled, and stroke the bottom of her back, right hand cradling her cunt, as I pull her up and one handed, unbuckle myself until i'm in my own hand and waiting for nothing I push inside her, feeling the resistance, because she's not quite ready, she hasn't come.
'Give it up, granger'.
No.
I'll fuck her till she does. I'll fuck her till we both come, sated and warm and safe.
He pushes into me, and I can feel the resistance, and I wasn't quite ready but he rubs my clit, demanding, demanding, demanding his way in and he pushes and suddenly I'm full, fuller than words or memory and nothing else exists but the warm heat behind me and the vulnerability of not having to lead and I don't tell anyone ever not till i'm dead but the truth is I'd love not to have to be the one who tells everyone what to do and he doesn't need it he just knows, knows knows and for once I don't have to know and its like being able to breathe and being held, all at once and he holds me, pushing me against him and its like running up a hill as a child, wind in your hair, knowing you just need to get to the top. its like being free and for once in my life i'm not weighing the consequences, and not trying to save anyone but me.
Maybe, just maybe, I'm saving myself. But I only think that way when he's hilt deep inside me and there's nowhere else to be but here- in reality I know they'd disavow us, like snape. The end of this war will see the wizarding world sharply split. We both know there's no hope otherwise but sometimes I imagining fucking every day like normal people, having a garden and maybe a light haired child. But then he shoves me harder into the couch and he makes me groan, the hilltop is so close and its building inside me like rain coming on a hot day.
I can feel her getting close, and so am I, when her cunt starts to squeeze around me and suddenly, I'm so close and my arm sears with all the pleasure of the call of the dark lord. No one knows this but its not pain, we feel, its every nerve ending on fire- why would he bother making people do what they don't want to do? Thats how he gets us all and I'm coming, unable to hold it or stop myself, and she moans, thickly, as if through a blanket and I have to pull out, have to go- and I'm standing, struggling to buckle my pants.
-Granger-
'I know. I came to tell you. Its about to start. I might never-
And i know what she wants to say, whats hovering just between those lips of hers, those infuriating brilliant lips and then.
'I have to go.'
And I wonder if I'm about to die.
I sit, for a moment, watching him disappear, and my hand burns with a message 'Hermione, where are you?'.
It's Harry. He's in the castle, and sheer horror fills me. He has the map.
Draco never, ever calls me by my name. I wonder if he ever will. I pull myself up with sheer force of will and walk towards what might be my death.
And just for a moment, I hold in my mind what it felt like to be calm and still, just letting go.
Free.