AN:
Pgoodrichboggs: Your reviews are so nice to see! I really appreciate that you take the time to leave them. Endlessly thankful! Seriously. Siriusly. Hahaha.
Grovek26: Glad to hear you are catching up and enjoy what's been happening! I hope to be putting out as much as I can!
So quick warning: imaginary sex things. Hope it's not offensive.
On with the show!
Chapter 18
The last items had been stowed for this sojourn long before Loren stood at the steps leading into the gates of the House. The meeting to which he now left his home and family was preordained beyond even these last few months wherein the young Lords Nott and Malfoy had joined them to live and be trained, such that they did now. Though, at this moment, it was a private affair that neither of them attended.
His delightful Hermione, ever wearing her love for her family in plain view, gingerly hugged her father around the trunk of his torso. Even budding into a woman now, she still snuggled under his chin and it reminded him so much of the times when she was but a wee little girl and had ruthlessly carved out his affection at any time she felt a longing for it. In truth, he'd indulged her any of her physical affections and never turned her away. He was glad for it then, and eternally glad for the precedent set now.
So many political alliances had been secured for their House with the promises Loren had made. But those promises were broken now, and with this trip Loren would watch as the support of his House and the people in his lands withered up in ashes. It was funny, really, that a covenant from some thousand-years past that was secured to bring unity to two Houses and their people, was the very thing that would send theirs to its very ruin.
Knowing that this was waiting for him, like a veritable den of horrors that he would walk into, Loren Gresham wanted a few remaining moments of love and assurance before he left his family to travel to the House of Shacklebolt, more than anything.
Loren held Hermione tightly, and felt her arms around him tighten in kind. He tried to keep the breath he took from atop her hair from wavering, but it did so despite his attempts. A flood of tears welled into his dark brown eyes, and he blinked them back as best he could before he released her with a gentle squeeze of her forearms to separate from her. He chuckled lightly, changing the tone of the air around them. "But sweet, my girl. I will only be away the fortnight. At the very most." Her eyes of shining copper looked up to him with an adoring expression as though he had hung the moon, and though she smiled, strain showed around her eyes that held a tinge of disbelief in them.
How much she adored and revered him turned his guts sour, as he mentally fortified him for what was to come. The fall of his honor, and his word as a Lord would crumble into dust to be blown away with the winds. Already it seemed that the halls of his home were tainted with the atrocity he committed against Ursa, but the surety that they had let their doom in by the front door in the forms of young Malfoy and Nott. Though they would likely not depart the same way.
Loren turned himself to his son, and though he was grown nearly completely unto a man, Loren pulled his son into an uncharacteristically demonstrative embrace. Tyt'o didn't fight it, and didn't flinch. The unspoken desperation in the display urged him not to. The son returned the same intensity that Loren had in the grasp. "Be safe and well father. Gods-speed to you." Tyt'o murmured into his father's shoulder and Loren nodded stoically.
Once Tyt'o had stepped away from his father, Loren hesitantly faced Ursa. Her beautiful face was painted with a smile, as it always was. But as her husband, Loren could see the tightness of her mouth, and stiff was she held herself. They still hadn't addressed what had happened the day in his library, and looking at her bronze colored eyes, and long dark hair Loren felt a rush of panic wash over him when he realized that the damage his lack of control had caused them. How much harm he had wrought was staggering. In such a finite moment, he had succumbed to jealously and anger, and had taken it out on entirely the wrong person.
Loren Gresham met her eyes hesitantly, but Ursa refused to be cowed as she stared her husband in the face. The moment of their silence to the other felt uncomfortable to Hermione and Tyt'o; their parents affection was so entirely outspoken at any other time, this moment where they faltered to speak, and their expressions lacked their normal softness and affection had a tinge of something the siblings were entirely unused to.
Being the first to break the tension, Loren reached for Ursa's hand, and she dutifully provided it with a straight arm; not allowing Loren to draw her nearer him, to caress and envelope her as his love and wife before he left their home. His kiss to the back of her hand was tender, and he held it with his own two hands with reverence, still the two were wooden and formal. "My beautiful wife." He told her softly.
Ursa did not smile, nor did she soften to him. "My Husband." She acknowledged in a clipped tone. "May your journey be blessed with safety. We keep watch to the roads for your swift return." Loren nodded, understanding that this was all she was going to part with. He was more the fool for not having made his reparations sooner than this. If they were alone he would have cursed himself and intoned to her his mea culpa. Wooed her with whispered endearments, promises, love. That would all have to wait now.
Loren released his wife's hand, and stepped back with one last nod to her. "My Lady, I carry your words in my heart with me to my destination." He all but whispered.
Hermione's eyes darted to her brother to see if he, like her, felt the strain amidst their parents and felt the same question tugging at his mind. He gave her no return glance and even seemed not to notice her seeking gaze until she felt the jab of his thumb into her hip. She understood his meaning immediately and turned her attentions so her expression was not so obvious; they would visit upon this later in privacy.
With words of dutiful departure and affection, Loren mounted his horse at the head of the small company he led with him out of the valley of Morvan Rove, his eyes still fixated on his wife whom stood stalwart despite her feminine build. She raised only her right hand to him to bid him a final farewell before she opened her arms to her children welcomingly, and bade the two follow her back to the keep.
While Loren and his accoutrement of journeyers would have several days to travel to the end of the Gresham lands to apparate to the House of Shacklebolt, Hermione and Tyt'o were still beholden to their daily lessons and expected to ride for no less than two hours per day to maintain their exercise regimen; so there was no room for them to fall into the doldrums of pondering what had broken down between their parents.
It was, in fact, quite a puzzlement to Hermione when she and her brother entered their Great Hall to find that Sirius had already started with Theodore and Draco, but that when she entered the Hall to join them, it was Draco's gray eyes that met hers first and she witnessed a softened expression to her. Waves upon waves of sprite wings danced within her body, much to her wonder at why such a feeling had overcome her, and she fought desperately not to return his clandestine gaze to her with an uncontrolled grin of her own.
Between fighting the muscles of her face, which tried desperately to stage a mutiny against her mind, and the tingle of warmth that was creeping into her cheeks, her heart leapt in desperation as she fought herself at all angles trying not to make any overt show in front of the group. She blinked her copper eyes furiously and averted her eyes without being able to return his softness to her. Draco looked away, and seeing no one observed him in his periphery, he allowed a tight smile that Hermione floundered when she'd looked at him.
The moment she'd stepped into the Hall, she'd met her eyes unabashedly with his. Eruptions of warmth had surged through his guts, and most unexpectedly to regions he'd rather didn't make any manifestation of interest. But it couldn't be helped. He shifted away slightly, and worked his mind down and away from his sudden interest in her arrival. But her face when he'd first seen her…. Her skin was like cream on a dessert that he'd never known could exist….
Hearing Master Black in the rears of his conscious woke Draco up but quickly, and he gave a literal shake of his head in a vigorous nod of agreement to whatever it was the Warlock had said.
"Excellent, young Malfoy!" Sirius grinned, and slapped him on the shoulder in a show of semi-affection. "It does my temper good to see you so eager to volunteer to go first." Draco glanced up at Sirius, and flashed his eyes to Hermione. As she removed her heavier leather over-jacket she couldn't help but snicker quietly. Her eyes filled with merriment and the waves of her hair shone beautifully in the light of the Hall.
"Now, let us today focus on conjuring the forces that are necessary to turning one object into another…" Sirius Black began, motioning to Draco to come forth and participate as his enlisted.
The lively steps of their mounts had made of an expeditious arrival to the border town of Brandwell at the edge of the Gresham lands. From this point the company would apparate directly, though individually, to the town surrounding the castle of House Shacklebolt. Horses had been boarded and fed properly, the men joining Loren had rested themselves overnight, and were ready to make the jump with Loren early on the fifth morning.
The feeling of apparition was one that Loren himself had never cared for; a sharp and nearly-painful pull within the depths of ones visceral matter was a sensation he could truly live without. And certainly, there were members of his banner men that found themselves unable to maintain equilibrium, or even the remains of their previous meal.
Finding himself conveyed properly and accurately, Loren Gresham straightened himself and the leather finery of his raiment. He did his utmost to shake the unease from sudden travel from his mind, but realized that it was joined by rising strain within himself at what was to come.
Entry to the House and formal greetings went smoothly enough. There were booming welcomes from the dark-skinned Lord of the House of Shacklebolt, along with wide smiles revealing supremely white teeth in contrast. His clothes were adorned in dark shades and embroidered with lively splashes of contrasting color. Not so much ostentatious as it was festive and vibrant. Much like the Lord himself.
Kingsley clasp Loren's hand as they walked through the halls, each of them sharing stories of their time apart and catching up as old friends may. Loren delicately and pointedly tiptoeing around any mention of the training of the children, and the changed number of residents within his House. Loren gave pause when mentioning the Dragons and the predicted hatching, citing that it was best to discuss in the presence of the additional Houses.
With a boisterous chuckle, Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed, and led Loren to the Great Hall within his Castle where the Lords of House Longbottom, McKinnon and Weasley all awaited his arrival.
The chorus of friendly welcome was overwhelming, and despite the cheery expression Loren tried to wear, he felt the maudlin of his countenance taint his smiles, and his laughter. It dulled them, made them less genuine. Out of the corner of Kingsley's eye, he caught Loren with a side-glance and the raising of an eyebrow, to which Loren clapped his palm upon Kingsley's forearm and nodded.
"Let us arrive upon our business, then, my good Lords." Loren pressed, and Kingsley nodded, as did the additional men within the room.
Drinks were served all-around as the five men gathered together and arrived comfortably in their chairs around the great wood table within the hall. Rough-hewn at the edges from a great and ancient tree that had felled at the end of it's like, within the House of Shacklebot it was given a new reverence as the centerpiece of his dining arena. The polished top gleamed in the light of the torches and candles lit, and the sunlight that came through the windows upon the wall.
Loren arrived to himself with aversion. Pleasantries having been exchanged the Lords wore expressions of seriousness now, the topics at hand requiring their undivided attention. The Lord of the Gresham House leaned forward at the table, resting himself on his forearms, his brown heavily worn in thought.
"My Lords," he began and paused. "My friends." He corrected. "I come to you at the final stretch before the great hatching will commence. While we have no way to tell with certainty when the Dragons will call to us to embark upon the pilgrimage to find their nest, I must bring to you most heavy and unexpected news of change."
The Lords all perked up at this mention and The Lord of the House Longbottom cocked his head to the side, as the Lord Weasley leaned in closer, frowning. "What be this change at so late an hour?" Arthurus Weasley asked, with a tinge of suspicion in his tone.
Loren met the eyes of his long-time ally, and sighed. "My fellow Lords, I ask that you allow me to recount from the very beginning, that I might expound on the predicament to which my House now finds itself." The four Lords nodded hesitantly, not certain of what to expect.
"Just before our marking of midsummer, I received a letter via emissary from the House of Malfoy. It spoke of meeting Lord-to-Lord pertaining to a contract between our Houses, as yet unfulfilled." He sighed and fought desperately to keep his hands clasped and not fidget as he wanted to. Despite his Lordly status, he was also a man into his middle age, and expected to be above such nervous behavior! "I refused Lord Malfoy at the onset, but received another letter only a week following, again making formal request to my House to meet with the Lord of the House Malfoy over a contract which me mentioned again, and requested reparations over it. He cited again as it was unfulfilled, his House requested satisfaction. I wrote to him this time and denied that any such contract was possible, and refused his request of meeting. However, it was my Lady wife who cautioned me from refusing the second request of session with the Lord, and I amended my response to him, and agreed to meet."
"Upon midsummer I did meet with him in the town of Brandwell, at the edge of Gresham lands. I bade my lands open their doors to him and his people, and commissioned rooms for him upon the Inn within the town that he might find our ground neutral in this discussion, despite our current state of aversion between our Houses."
"My Lords," Loren found himself trying to keep his voice even. "It seems I am in violation of a contract of marriage that was built by forebears no longer alive to describe to us what the original understanding was made upon. The House of Gresham is the one who has broken the contract." The four Lords gasped and there was murmurs in the room between parties. Lord Franklin Longbottom was the first to speak.
"Loren, what be'ist the reparation that the Lord Malfoy has requested?" The Lords face was wrought with concern for his allied sister House, and Loren steeled himself even though his courage wavered.
"The Lord Malfoy has proclaimed that if we will not fulfill the contract in giving my daughter to his House in marriage, that he will stake his claim in lieu of the nuptials to his son and heir for the two seats as Dragon riders."
The table erupted with shouts of indignation and rage from three of the four Lords. Proclamations of disbelief and anger wrung the air, but only the two Lords; Loren and Arthurus, remained stalwart in the midst. Arthurus' expression was shrewd and tinged with hostility.
His voice was low, but could be heard by Loren alone. "And what then, my friend, have you conceded to in this malice played upon your House?" Loren heard perfectly the question, despite the din of conversation between the other three parties at the table, the Lords now seating themselves again though they discussed loudly the outrage of the situation Loren Gresham was now placed, not knowing yet that he had long made his decision without their counsel.
"I have ears within the House of Malfoy, my Lords, and it is known to me what manner in which a man of the House uses his women." Arthurus' expression turned from suspicious, to a grimace of near-rage. The Weasley Lord already knew what was coming next.
"You fucking coward." He spat at Loren, but Loren refused to flinch. The three fellows being outliers to the exchange quieted at the vile proclamation made by the influential Lord of House. "You sold your precious commodity in exchange for the protection of your House!" He shouted and stood from the table. "Without word to your fellow Houses, you abdicated the option of joining your Dragons to the Houses you committed them to!" Loren refused to look away from Arthurus, his own anger rising at the attack he was under, though trying to keep himself in check as it was, simply put, an accurate statement.
"Aye, Lord; that I did. I was presented two choices: Sell the life of my daughter to a House known for their cruelty to their women and relegate her to a fate worse than any I would want to imagine, or agree to Malfoy supplanting my sister Houses for first choice as riders to our Dragons." Arthurus looked upon Loren with rage and betrayal, but Loren continued. "Tell me then, Arthurus; were it your own daughter. Ginevra, her name is? Would you consign her to abuse and ruin at the hand of a man who revels in seeing a woman debased and defiled? Could you send her to that fate? Would you look upon her face, and tell her that her future as a wife would be wrought with manhandling and shame? Tell me to my face, friend, that you could. Perhaps you are a man of greater conviction than I, for though my House is not blessed with as many heirs, mine are still precious to myself and my wife than to be considered a commodity."
Loren's harsh words to Arthurus were met with silence and seething rage from the red headed Lord. The two glaring at each other until the melodic and rumbling voice of Kingsley cut the tension in the air.
"My Lords, we must maintain our senses of calm and review what is to be done next." He raised a dark hand to draw their attention towards him, and away from each other. "Lord Gresham has indeed committed a breaking of vows to us, though under duress of the threat of safety to his own child."
The Lords Longbottom and McKinnon remained pensive, though upset greatly at the facts revealed to them. Kingsley continued, authoritatively. "My Lords, we must all come together now to resolve what reparations of our own we seek now that circumstances have changed in this endeavor." He spoke this to the Lords of the Houses now glowering at Loren Gresham.
"My Lord Gresham, you must also be in agreeance to these requests, should we be able to maintain our alliances through each other."
Loren nodded his recognition at the statement. Loren's decision had cost him already, and it would continue to do so. His fellow Lords, once trusted allies and friends, now looked upon him with skepticism.
"As always, Kingsley, you recall us to even tempers in the face of disagreements." Loren stated in recognition.
"Or bad behaviors." Arthurus shot out, returning to his seat with a begrudging look painted upon him.
"My Lords!" Kingsley stated, and commanded moderation between the two Lords by holding his hands out at either side of him. "We are here as allies, and as friends. We are here for a common purpose, and shall regain our footing in this endeavor." The four additional Lords all nodded their agreements. "Now tell me truly, Loren, what window have you found into the Malfoy House that you made mention of that causes you to be so set in your perception of their House? And what of the riders that have been brought to your Home?"
It had been many hours spend at the grant table within the Shacklebolt Hall. Long hours of deliberation, exclamation, and repudiation. There was even, in the end, words of remorse and requests of forgiveness. Promises renewed from Houses between the assembly of Lords present to move forward as a faction rather than be divided over the set-back Loren's House had had to endure.
Loren was weary from this day. It showed plainly on his face, and while in private now the man showed no desire to conceal himself from anyone or to disguise any emotion he had felt. Tears ran from the dark eyes of the Lord of the House, unrestrained as though he were a mere slip of a boy who had tumbled across the road and skilled his knees. In the aftermath of so much turmoil between Houses he had worked to stabilize relations with over the course of his years as a Lord, his trials had been harsh.
At the table he sat at, in the rooms he was stationed into for his stay, the parchments containing renewed contracts of service and trade had been drawn up throughout that day. Gold was to be paid in penalty, and new pacts had been outlined for their coming heirs to fulfill should the matured pair of gold Dragons ever opt to clutch a second time. Any excess offspring available would be pledged to the sister Houses, with certainty. Much how these were planned to have been.
The Lord of House McKinnon, Isidore, had even gave note that he would have to consider at length whether their previous notion of betrothing Loren's son to Isidore's elder daughter Merrigan would bear fruit. It was fortunate that Kingsley had parlayed on Loren's behalf that in time, it was best to see if the heirs themselves found any appeal in such a match, rather than to have their Lords made contracts in their stead. He'd pointed out that this seems to have been what placed Loren Gresham in the sticky situation he'd found himself.
Loren had not bothered to counter Kingsley's assessment. He'd not had the courage. When Loren had returned from his convocation from Lucius Malfoy, he had ransacked his Houses records to find the contract Lord Malfoy had smugly dangled upon him, and had discovered the very same contract buried deep within the records of his House.
The contract had been concealed within the personal Journal of the son of the House, Helio Gresham. In it Loren had discovered, through his forbears own hand, that though his forefather had signed this contract of his own free will, he had done so to join the Houses together to prevent a rift from forming. Helio himself, it seemed, had been enamored of another woman long before this. Upon finding that he had begotten a child by her, he married her with haste. It had left the young heiress of Malfoy with no groom, and the stain of dereliction and shame on her person.
By the grace of the gods, Helio later recounted that the woman had married and produced heirs upon that House, but the relations between that in the years following continued to degrade further and further. Helio Gresham, it appeared, had been the cataclysm that had changed the face of the great Houses in the land, those many years ago.
Though he found that he loved his wife, and their children, most dearly. Helio himself in his personal journals written later in the years of his life, recounted the events of that period of his youth with great regret. Relations had all but crumbled as he handed the control and Lordship of his House to his eldest son, he could only watch by and witness as political alliances were strained to the point of breaking, trade and protection treaties had less and less agreeable profits between Houses. The avalanche that had been caused by his rash and ungentlemanly actions had been at a high cost to his House.
When Loren had read these thoughts transcribed by his ancestor, he had been overtaken with such sorrow at seeing what treachery and misunderstanding had been caused by the low behavior of his forefather. Loren had shed tears then, as he shed them now.
Isolated in the rooms he occupied for his stay, Loren allowed himself the purge of his emotions and cried harder, leaning his face into his forearms atop the table at which he sat. The shame, and anger poured out of him in the tears that ran from his eyes, and painted his arms before their moisture reached the wood he rested on. Such a state he would never allow anyone to bear witness to, not even his wife.
Thoughts of his wife crept into his mind, and Loren shuddered even harder as he realized that even if he could call his wife to his side, she would not lend him comfort and counsel now. Not without repairing the wrong he had wrought upon her.
In times of great duress and turmoil, it was Loren and Ursa who would seek the wisdom of their great Dragons, and appeal to their knowledge and counsel to aid them in better outcomes. Their Dragons were still occupied in the cold of the high mountain reaches, and of no aid to him at this time. Their presences already keenly felt as an emptiness within each Gresham already. But none so more powerfully that at this very moment, at least for Loren.
As Loren Gresham continued to weep, he saw that at that moment, was well and truly alone.
Hermione's eyes snapped open, and though she was ripped from a solid sleep, she joyously bounded from the luxury of her warm comforter, stumbling slightly into the table beside her bed and tripping over her own feet as she started sprinting for get door.
She'd heard them!
Crashing into her thick door, she flung the lock off and tore through the opening. The thick wood made a reverberating bang through the halls. But Hermione paid no care to this, her feet carried her swiftly as she raced through the halls of her House.
Deep inside her chest, the fading feeling of being tugged still lingered. The way her body vibrated as it had called to her as a great hum had enveloped her whole being still sung in her bones. She'd heard them! The hum! They were here!
Hermione's bright copper eyes shone with budding tears as she ran as fast as she could, barreling into chairs as she turned a corner, nicking a painting with her shoulder. A ruckus of noise boomed in the wave of her marathon through the House.
In her blind haste, the sounds had reached even the room where Draco reposed inside, peaceful in his slumber. The toppling over of a small table outside the door of his room brought him full-stop to an awoken state. If a hissing profanity hasn't followed, Draco would have simply assumed it to be his imagination and rolled himself back into the luxury of the down filled comforter he lay beneath. The blonde sat up hastily and tossing his coverings aside, hurried to his door.
The sight he witnessed was not what he expected: the dimly lit hall was littered with overturned items, and just as he turned to look to the stairs he caught sight of a pale bit of cloth dancing midair as it was pulled out from his view down the stairs.
Draco followed without taking mind to close the door to his room. Feet moving quickly, he followed this apparition down the stairs. It moved quite quickly so he hastened to catch up to it, unable to make out clearly what it was that he was following, aside from a white shaped flutter dashing through the passageways.
Stubbing his foot at some undetected corner, Draco stumbled a moment swearing as the pain caused him to cringe and limp along for a stretch while it subsided. At that point, however, he'd lost sight of what he had been chasing.
Slowing his pace and taking note of where he stood, he found himself in a small parlor that was fairly unassuming in size and decorum. It did have double doors which, at present, were ajar to the outside. He approached as quietly as possible, trying to keep the noise of his feet to a minimum.
Peering through the doors, the light of the moon cast the outside in a luminosity that allowed him to see detail as though it were daytime. It was not yet full, but the embellishment of the stone balcony beyond was very clear. As was the form of Hermione Gresham, clad in nothing save for a nightgown.
Her lively and shining curls were illuminated in the pale light outside, and hung freely over her shoulders and down the middle of her back. Her white shift bore no sleeves, but displayed provocatively her bare and soft shoulders, reaching only as far down as mid-calf showing a delightfully feminine pair of ankles and feet. Draco Malfoy flinched as searing heat crept into his face, and he felt a shift in pressure deep in his groin as the apex of his night wear grew tight and uncomfortable. He had to back away from the door and force himself to look down upon the stone floor to keep a groan from reaching his lips. Never had he seen any female in such a state of undress!
Draco glanced up again at her as she moved to lean over the balcony, clearly in search of something that Draco couldn't see. The gleam of moonlight over the expanse of her bare arms was hypnotizing; a perfect, unblemished expanse of flesh that conveyed the benefit of her daily exercise, but too the effeminacy of her form. Despite what he knew to be proper, Draco couldn't bear to look anywhere else. He found himself positively parched, and the sight before him a fountain from which to drink.
As her body moved this way and that, her frantic searching calmed further, he noted that though her shift was thin, it was not so much so that he could observe much of her shape beneath. That he was even looking tugged at him in his mind that he should be looking away, as a true gentleman would. Draco pushed the notion aside roughly and paid it no further heed.
Quietly, Hermione murmured something into the darkness, and sighed heavily. She appeared weary suddenly, and leaned herself on her forearms upon the stone rail, her body folding at the waist. Certainly what Draco could not discern a moment ago, he absolutely could now! With a bit of a shock, he turned completely away from the parted doors and faced away. His body felt like it was lit inside with a fire, shooting through his core and deepening the insistent pressure trapped inside his loosely tied cloth pants.
Draco had begun to literally quake as the sensation begged to be relieved. The young man struggled to keep his hand from reaching downward to answer the unrelenting and cruel hardness that hung between his legs. Draco took a deep breath, as quietly as he could. It would be problematic were he to be discovered in such a state; lurking in the shadows, ogling the form of the daughter of the House. Nothing good would come from that.
As Draco turned back to the separated doors, his length brushed part of the door and he sagged in the middle at the torturous sensation spread through his loins, crying desperately for relief. He cursed himself wordlessly and righted his body, looking out again through the doors at Hermione.
Mercifully, she'd stood up straight again, though her palms still touched the railing and her posture revealed her to be pensive. It was a delicious torment, he concluded, and smiled softly as he imagined how soft her hair looked and wished that he could see the face that he'd come to memorize from the many times he'd stood opposite to her in the weeks they'd been drilled repeatedly by their teachers.
Draco could bear no more anguish in coveting her in such a manner, and he made to walk stealthily back the way he had come. While he still wore a grin on his face, he tried with desperation to shield the evidence of his interest by adjusting his pants, but with little success. The young man bounded up the stairs with ease, and the activity helped mildly in taking his mind off the vision of Hermione's body that was seared into his memory.
As he closed the wooden door to his room, he slumped his body against it and sighed deeply. His frustration and ache at war with each other in his mind and in his veins. Reaching the lock with his hand, he secured it, and dropping his head back, he undid the tie to the light pair of pants he wore to bed. Their soft cloth sliding down the length of his legs as they were bared in the darkness, he unabashedly slid his hand across the length of himself, suppressing his own gasp.
As he moved his opened palm expertly around his aroused extremity, taking his time to slowly build himself, all he could see behind his closed eyes was moonlight that illuminated sensuously curled hair surrounding the face of the most beautiful thing he had ever lain eyes on. Her copper eyes would be half closed and filled with craving. Her pink lips would part for him as he pressed his upon them gently, and her breath catching as much as his did while he moved his hands over her skin, that would feel as soft as silk.
As Draco's mind wandered further, his hand picked up speed and his imagination went wild with the scene he played for himself, as he experienced the most intimate parts of his fictitious playmate. His lips travelled to the peaks of her beautiful and buoyant breasts, smelling her skin through the shift he'd seen her wearing. Their tips were taut with how aroused he was making her, and still so deliciously soft against his lips as he brushed them on her lightly. Her smell was feminine, delicate, and completely her own, but it made his mouth water to taste every inch of her and with a whisper he could hear her breathy request. "Oh, Draco, yes…." She sighed to him.
It was more than enough. The tickle that had crept up from every corner of his body, until he was desperate for it to stop –but also to continue forever, was fulfilled. His mind-shattering thirst was quenched as a waterfall surged down toward him from above. The pinnacle of his pleasure was startling, and abrupt, and as his breath calmed it left him vibrations all through his body that caused his limbs to tremble. His hands were decorated with his moisture, and he felt nothing short of magnificent.
Later, when he had cleansed himself and laid back into the comfort of his own bed, he grinned obnoxiously for himself, reveling in the satisfaction he felt. Draco felt nothing but wonder as he imagined the scent of Hermione's hair, and how he would twirl a soft strand of it around his finger while she lay there beside him. His mind playing the sound of her contented sigh for him as the two of them would have conformed to the other, wrapped disastrously in each other's arms as they came down from their highs, and the vision of contentment carried him off to sleep.