Notes: Ya'll rock. We're getting so dang close, but there's still some time to explore emotion, truth and trust.
WARNINGS: Sexual content
~*~ Thirty Eight ~*~
"No!"
The thrash of a leg and the raw scream that ripped into the sultry night had Hermione awake in an instant. She rolled on her side to face the source of the disruption and grimaced at what she found. Draco was coated in a film of heavy sweat, the sheets twisted around his torso damp. His head was flung back at an impossible angle, his mouth open and gasping. The exposed dark veins of his cursed leg stood out angrily in the night, seeming to pulse in the dim light cast by the moon. His hands flexed in the sheets, clawing so fiercely she worried he might tear through them.
"Not her… please not her."
His voice was a ravaged plea, utterly lost and so broken it made her chest ache. Hermione cupped his face, drawing her hand gently across his clenching jaw. She pressed a light kiss at the side of his trembling lips.
"Wake up, Draco. It's only a dream." Her voice cut through the night like a knife through butter, parting the thick air and filling the space between them. He stirred, turbulent eyes blinking open, long lashes fluttering and then holding steady as he focused on her.
"Fuck," he muttered, bringing a hand to rest on her wrist.
Hermione let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. "That's the third one in as many days."
"If I'd known telling you would mean opening the bloody dam and letting it all in again, I would have…" He trailed off, abruptly rolling away from her and running his hands through his loose hair. He growled, low and desperate. "Fuck."
She sighed. "This isn't your fault."
"It's my bloody brain."
"Still not your fault. Mine's hardly a picnic either. I may have stopped losing time—that I know of—but that doesn't mean it isn't a complete mess in here. I spend most of my available energy trying to make sure my psychotic husband doesn't find a way to break into my head. That's definitely more my fault than you having nightmares about the horrible things that have happened to you is yours." Hermione inched closer to him, crawling slowly across the bed. "We're only human, Draco."
"I should be able to sleep, Hermione. It's a basic human function." He snarled the words, but she didn't slow her approach. He angled toward her as she settled beside him, close enough to touch him easily, but letting him decide to initiate contact when he wanted. "And it's not horrible things that have happened to me. It's horrible things I did to other people. There is a distinct difference."
He scowled down at the ghost of the Dark Mark on his arm. It had faded considerably upon their transition to the past and Hermione had only recognized it for what it was after she'd spent a significant amount of time with him unclothed. Unlike the stark lines of his curse, it was nearly imperceptible now that its link to Voldemort was severed. She wondered if Tom had even realized what it was during his time with Draco. He must have known about the marks from her memories, but Draco was the consummate deceiver and likely hadn't given Tom the opportunity to study it in any detail.
"That doesn't define you."
He turned his arm over, removing the mark from view. "No, but I am the product of my decisions."
"And we've decided to try and be happy," she argued, unsure of how to bring him out of the shadow of his nightmares.
Draco scrubbed a hand over his haunted eyes. "I do want that even if I don't deserve it. You make me feel like living is possible again, like every moment of life doesn't have to be pain, even if I can never truly escape it. But Riddle is coming, Hermione, and Grindelwald will never let us go, not after we showed our hand. Say we do kill Riddle, then what? We spend the rest of our lives trapped in this tower like some sort of fairy tale princesses?"
She twisted her hands in her lap, teeth digging into her bottom lip. "We could escape, leaving Grindelwald behind. Go to America or Australia or anywhere else."
"And just live a lie? Pretend we're Muggles and that none of this ever happened to us? I don't think I could do that." He took a shuddering breath that sent chills down Hermione's spine. She glanced sharply over at him. "I stole your time turner back at Hogwarts."
"What?" She'd known it had gone missing, but assumed Dumbledore had appropriated it from her.
Draco held her stare, stormy eyes raging with emotion. "As soon as I realized Riddle was interested in you, I took it. I didn't want him to find it and use it against us or anyone else." He swallowed, the pause charged and heavy. "I think we should use it to leave. After we kill Riddle."
Hermione froze, hands still and breath held. After a long moment she managed to whisper, "And go where?"
"Back."
He didn't need to specify further. She knew exactly what he meant. He wanted to return to the time they'd left, to a world hopefully changed beyond recognition. But most importantly, to a place where they had never lived through horror, never taken lives or watched blood soak into the sodden earth. To a place where they might not remember anything of what passed between them now, where they would be entirely different people.
Her jaw worked silently, fury, then dread rolling through her like thunder. Her hands shook now and she hardly trusted her voice as she said, "You want to erase our lives."
He was suddenly on his knees in front of her, his hands trailing across her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, excruciatingly gentle and full of adoration. "I love you, Hermione Granger, but I want a life with you that doesn't have me waking up every night to the memory of blood on my hands, that doesn't have you looking over your shoulder for the ghost of Riddle until the day you die. I want a life with you that isn't tainted by darkness, that is good and real."
"But if you take that all away, there may be no life for us at all, Draco. You're taking away all the things that made me fall in love with you, all the pain and guilt that make this real. We'll be different people; we'll want different things. In all likelihood you'll be with Astoria and I'll have ten redheaded Weasleys running around. I don't…" She shook with the emotion that had flooded her, the dread that was pumping through her veins with every frantic beat of her heart. "I don't want that, Draco. I would rather live broken with you than live that life whole. You mean more to me than anyone ever has. You've taught me to find hope in the darkest places. Please don't give up on us now."
He bowed his head, forehead resting against the skin of her thighs. "I don't know if I'm strong enough. I'm so tired, Hermione. Just so tired…"
She carded her fingers through his silken hair, stroking, letting her nails scrape across his scalp. "You're not alone anymore, Draco. You don't have to do it all yourself. Please lean on me, let me help you. Let me love you."
Draco shifted, pressing a hot kiss against her skin and then another. He kept worshiping her with his lips as he gradually rose, guiding her back against the mattress. His touch left her trembling, the dread chased away by the steadfast caresses, the boundless devotion behind every movement of his body against hers. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttered, her skin alit with a soul deep craving.
He smiled against her as Hermione's hands dug against his shoulders, whimpers escaping her lips in breathy pants. She merely whined louder, craving him beyond the mere touch of skin. He smothered a laugh against her hip as he peeled the camisole from her body, leaving only her knickers separating them. Pulling her forward he drew his tongue along the seam of the cotton, teeth nipping a moment later. She mewled, hips bucking and fingers spasming into his hard muscles. Taking pity on her, Draco hooked a finger through the elastic and removed the final barrier. Her legs fell open and he kissed his way back up, strong hands parting her further until his mouth was at her core, his lips suckling, his tongue stroking. Hermione clung to him, ankles crossing behind his neck, hands clamping down on his tensed biceps.
The waves of pleasure built quickly, his knowledge of her body consummate now. He coaxed her slowly to the pinnacle each time, taking care to leave every nerve ending craving release before tumbling her over the edge with abandon. He didn't tease her, didn't force pleasure from her, but rather let her ride the crest of the wave as long as possible, catapulting her into a rapture that unfettered her, mind, body and soul.
Mouth slick with her pleasure, he eventually eased back. Holding her gaze, he licked his lips, debauched indulgence clouding his stormy eyes. She shook, shivers running from head to toe, hips canting toward him. The look passed a moment later as he held out his hand, the warmth of love tempering the hard edge of desire.
"I want to try something."
His voice was low and rough. She took his hand, let him pull her to stand on trembling legs. He led her out of the bedroom, past the sitting room and onto the balcony. The moon shone down on them, his platinum hair now bathed in light, giving it an ethereal glow. His features were sharper, the harsh shadows making him achingly handsome, the tone of his muscles emphasized and the curve of his lips irresistible.
"I've never made love under the moon, with no walls to cage us in. I want to do this because…"
Hermione blinked at him, sensing the words he couldn't say. I may not have another chance. Her stomached dropped and she closed the distance between them, pulling his lips roughly to hers. He would have a thousand more chances if she had anything to do with it. Draco melted into her, his hands falling to her bare hips, tracing the sensitive skin. She moaned into his mouth and he greedily swallowed it before trailing fire down the column of her throat as he worshiped her salty skin.
Her legs were unsteady again when he swept them out from under her. He gripped her steadily, her weight nothing to his muscular frame, as he guided her to straddle his hips, legs wrapped around his slim hips.
Hermione forced a coherent thought out of her mouth. "Are you sure? This won't hurt?"
Draco shook his head, luminous hair a wild halo. "Your weight is on my hips, not my thighs. But I do need you to hold tight, both hands and legs."
She tightened her grip on his shoulders, testing. He nodded in approval and she smiled at him, their faces nearly level with their new position. He let go for a moment and she felt the alignment of him against her entrance. Holding his radiant gaze, stormy eyes made unearthly by the moon and unbridled emotion, she relaxed her muscles a fraction and sank onto him. Their foreheads fell together, her gasp fueling his sharp intake of breath. He moved a handful of steps and she felt the ornate parapets come into contact with her back. The stone rails were high, but despite their perilous position near the edge of the balcony, she felt no fear, only the throb of completion as he thrust deeper, filling her wholly.
They moved easily together after that, her limbs holding fast to his strong frame, his hands guiding her hips with impeccable precision. Hermione refused to surrender entirely to the heady pleasure that soaked her body, choosing instead to memorize every pane of his moonlit face, every eddy in his storm cloud eyes, every breathy moan that fell from his swollen lips. He was hers and they were one in this moment, united in more than mere pleasure, in something primal and holy that made her believe in tomorrow. When her walls spasmed around him and he came tumbling after her in ecstasy, she relished the sudden warmth within her, the knowledge that one day they could create life together.
His legs trembling now, Draco gently lowered her back to the ground, shifting to lean against the parapets with her. His eyes traced the orb of the moon, a tremble to his lips she didn't understand.
She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, pulling his focus back to her. "I'm here. I'll always be here. I promise you I'm not going anywhere."
He sighed, sated pleasure slipping from his frame, replaced by a wariness Hermione recognized all too well. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Hermione Granger."
"Fine. To the best of my abilities, I will always be with you," she amended, brow furrowing.
He was silent a long moment, gaze wandering to the luminous crags of the Alps reaching for the star speckled sky. Finally, he sighed again. "Do you think you can do it?"
It wasn't clear what he meant. "Do what?"
"Kill him."
So they were talking about Tom. It had been a handful of days since Grindelwald had upended their lives and both Hermione and Draco knew their time was running out. Tom would be arriving any day at the steps of Nurmengard, uninhibited by Hogwarts since it was summer holiday and he was inevitably free from Dumbledore's surveillance. Her Occlumency had shut him out entirely since the night he'd broken through after their intimacy, but Tom lurked in her thoughts, only banished when she was talking with Draco or participating in activities that used his mouth for other, equally distracting purposes.
"I don't know." It was the honest to Merlin truth of the matter. She'd been under the impression that killing Tom by her own hand was an impossibility until very recently. Now, she wasn't sure. She had memories of him that made her heart warm and her body shiver from the ghost of his touch, but she could see him for what he was—a monster with more capacity for evil than should be possible for one human. But he was still only a murderous boy and not yet fully a monster. He had violated her so completely, but it had been out of misguided love, an emotion his dark soul could not properly interpret. The fact didn't excuse him, didn't give him the right to take away her autonomy, but it made clear how different he was from Voldemort. He had seen what his future held and chosen her instead. She still did not quite know what to make of it.
And there was the link between them that lingered beyond the destruction of the Horcrux. He was still in her head and that scared her more than she was willing to admit. Because if he was still in her head, were these her emotions that yearned for him or was it some trick, another manipulation designed to drive her into his arms? She had no idea what to think, if her thoughts were still her own. She'd had Draco do a thorough examination of her mind and he'd found no trace of Tom, but she knew better now. Tom was clever, dangerously so. And yet it also broke her to understand what they would do, to know the line that they would cross if they took him from the world.
Draco didn't begrudge her the uncertainty. "The fiendfyre will take care of the Horcrux, if we can isolate it to a room in the castle. That unfortunately requires Grindelwald's help. But when the time comes, I will do it if you cannot."
It wasn't the sort of thing you said thank you to. Swallowing, tongue heavy and mouth full of ashy longing, she laid her head against his shoulder and stared out at the starry night and moon-washed cliffs.