Chapter 46
May 1998
The rain outside quickly morphed into a violent thunderstorm. Hermione stared out the window of her parents' guest bedroom at the lightning. The cracks of thunder were too loud and woke her up. She turned around to see Draco sleeping soundly next to her. How he continued to sleep like the dead through all this noise was beyond her.
She watched as the bright flashes of light played across his facial features, his bare chest, and the contours of his neck, shoulders and arms. The sheet was drawn up just over his bum, covering his privates. Hermione was immediately concerned by the bruises he had shown up with, leftover from what he hadn't been able to heal completely. She worried that someone was abusing him in some way. But he brushed off her worry, explaining that they were a result of more intensive combat training, and that he was better for it.
Hermione smiled at Draco's face, content in his slumber.
Looking back, sometimes she still couldn't believe all that had transpired between them. It was ten months ago that she had given him the Galleon. Spiteful and bound on the floor of the Muggle-borns he was tasked with bringing in, now he was risking himself for the Order. And they had fallen in love.
Her gaze stayed on Draco's sleeping form. His hair was forever falling in front of his eyes. She tenderly brushed it back, tucking the soft locks behind his ear where it was long enough to stay in place. He murmured something unintelligible but didn't wake.
Hermione closed her eyes again but still couldn't fall asleep. The occasional crack of thunder kept her awake. She sat up and gazed out the window, listening to the rain pounding on the windowpane. She hadn't showered after combat training today and still had dried fluids between her legs from their lovemaking. A hot shower would help her relax so she could return to sleep.
She left the bed and entered the bathroom, tying her hair back in a bun so it wouldn't get wet. Upon turning on the light switch, the bulb flickered and burned out, so she opened the blinds to allow the dim light from outside into the bathroom. After letting the water run for a few seconds to warm up, she stepped in the shower and soaped her body in the dark, clearing off the dried sweat.
Eager to get back to bed, she shut off the water, drying off while looking at the dark shadows across her body in the mirror. She bent over to wipe her legs and toes and stood up again to see Draco's reflection behind her.
Not having heard him enter the bathroom, she yelped at his unexpected presence. His posture was tense and arms at his sides, fingers curled like claws. Lightning illuminated his body with angular flashes and a crack of thunder made her jump again. She whirled around to face him and was immediately wary. He was agitated and his eyes were different. Much darker than she had ever seen before.
Had something happened?
"Are you alright?" she asked, studying the changed shade of his eyes curiously.
"Fine," Draco answered softly. His arms circled around her and cradled her to his chest, seemingly having calmed down. "I thought you left."
She tilted her head up again, his eyes were the stormy grey she was used to, but the poor lighting in the loo made it seem as if they had a dangerous gleam.
"I wouldn't leave you like that," she replied. "I just had trouble sleeping."
He bent down to kiss her and paused before his mouth met hers.
"Do you need me to tire you out?"
Hermione smiled and raised herself up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his, but he turned her away from him to face the mirror. She twisted her neck to try and capture a kiss, but he leaned back out of her reach with a smirk and motioned towards the mirror. Suddenly nervous at the prospect of watching herself, she gazed at his reflection standing behind her.
He ghosted his fingers along her bare arms, causing goosebumps to form in their wake, and then reached up to her bun, pulling her head to the side slightly and exposing her neck.
Draco's other hand splayed across her clavicle and he leaned down, dragging his lips against the side of her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut and his fingers stroked her neck and upper chest, making her stomach twist in anticipation.
"Watch." His voice was a low rumble behind her. "That's what a mirror is for."
Hermione opened her eyes to meet his hungry gaze. His fingers slid down her upper chest, touching the towel where she held it wrapped around her body. She clutched the terrycloth nervously and watched his fingers move back and forth across her skin, teasing her by dipping beneath the fabric. His lips travelled up the line of her neck to her ear.
Lightning flashed again, coloring his skin bright white against the shadows. The flashes of light gave the bathroom an almost sinister atmosphere. It made his eyes appear to change into that strange dark shade again and return to their pale grey. Thunder rumbled in the distance and his fingers slipped underneath the towel. They rubbed, stroked and reached down over her breast. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as his palm trailed downward, pushing the towel to expose her. His fingers moved across her nipple, then his palm, until he had the entirety of her flesh in his hand.
Hermione felt herself tighten between her legs, and she pressed her thighs together.
Draco squeezed gently and she moaned, letting the towel drop and her head loll back against his shoulder. She reached towards the back of his thighs to hold him against her. His chest was warm and his cock slid against her rear. He watched her eyes in the mirror, but his gaze trailed down to where he kneaded the skin of her breast. He released her hair and slid his hand down her back, cupping her arse and squeezing hard.
It hurt, and her knees wobbled.
"Too much?" he whispered into her ear, tickling her lobe.
The rough groping felt like he was laying claim to her body, and she liked it. She squeezed the back of his thighs harshly in return and he bit his lip with a grunt.
"Nothing I don't like," she replied with a small smile.
Draco palmed her arse again, harder, testing her limits. The hand at her breast cupped her. She watched the muscles of his shoulders and forearms flex, and how he made her flesh move in the mirror. His fingers rubbed and pushed and kneaded roughly. She stared as he pulled lightly on her nipple, twisting it, and then pulled harder. He pinched, and she whined softly. Knowing he was watching her, she shifted her gaze back to his eyes.
The intense way he looked at her made Hermione feel desirable, loved, wanted and somewhat vulnerable.
She dug her fingers into the sides of his thighs and he smiled wolfishly. His hand trailed down to where her arse met her thigh and he pinched hard. Hermione grunted from the sudden pain but he held on until she yelped. He released her to slide his hand down the back of her thigh, and hoisted her leg up onto the sink, resting her bent knee on the counter.
"Wet?" his lips grazed the lobe of her ear.
"For you?" she said with a smile. "Always."
Draco's teeth flashed at her in the mirror. He reached across to her other breast so he could support her front with his arm. She watched him adjust his position from behind her, dipping below, finding the angle and pushing upwards. His cock slid against her vulva and she placed her hand down between her legs to guide him inside.
"Hold onto me," he whispered.
He pushed up again and grunted a whimper when he entered her. Hermione was shoved forward by his thrust and she grabbed onto the back of his neck for support. He braced himself on the counter and held her fast against him, clutching her breast. Draco slid in and out of her, slowly, experimentally and her body rocked forward with each thrust.
"Hold me," he repeated. "Hard."
She reached back with both hands, nails digging into his shoulders so she wouldn't pitch forward.
Draco palmed her breast, fondling, rubbing the skin, massaging the flesh, groping her roughly as he entered her. Hermione held on, exposing her body to him while he thrust up and into her, pushing huffing groans out of her with each entry.
As the two found a rhythm, he grunted into her neck, eyes never leaving hers in the reflection. The lightning flashed again, illuminating their writhing bodies with bright jagged shapes and he grabbed her hip, digging his fingers into her pelvic bone. He thrust up again, hitting a sensitive area and she gasped. His lips curled upwards and his fingers reached up towards her shoulder, pinning her against his chest, pressing her down as he rocked up.
He hit her sensitive spot again. The lightning flashed, making his eyes appear dark again, and his breath was heavy on her neck.
"I love you," he panted, with a death grip on her shoulder.
She held onto him, balanced precariously on the counter.
"I love you too," was her breathy reply.
Draco trembled behind her and the hand holding her hip reached across her pelvis, down between her legs. He slicked around her wetness and warmth enveloped her body.
Rubbing her clit, his cock slid in and out, working her towards her climax. Between the rough groping and the adrenaline racing through her blood with each crack of thunder, she was close. Draco already knew her body so well and the flashes of lightning gave their coupling a somewhat eerie tone, watching in the mirror.
"You won't leave me," his voice scraped against her ear.
"No," she groaned as he entered her. "Of course not."
She stared at his reflection and his eyes shone dangerously with the flash of lightning. The thunder made her jump and his hand clamped down on her breast again. She felt her orgasm approach and he thrust up into her.
"Say you won't leave me," he repeated, dark eyes boring into hers.
"I won't…" Hermione moaned as his finger worked her clit. She was going to come. His fingers pressed harder into her skin, and she stared at the way his arms covered her body. It was painful, but it felt good. He rocked in and out of her, holding her like a vise to his chest.
"Say it," he hissed in her ear. His body tensed and he grabbed her breast harshly, making her shout. She scraped his neck with her fingernails.
"I won't leave you!" she cried, contracting over him. She trembled and came with a moan, watching the triumphant glimmer in his dark eyes.
Draco's fingers were like claws, and he stiffened. She was still pulsing when he came inside her, breath ragged. Hermione gasped, watching in the mirror as he turned his face into her cheek, shuddering with each burst. He rubbed his nose against her skin, holding her fast and quaking behind her. The muscles of his arms flexed across her front as he held her tight. His face was pained, and he grit his teeth. He curled his fingers, cupping her sex around his member below.
His hot breath encased the lines of her jaw, ear and throat, and she felt his heart pounding against her back. He didn't move. The grip he had on her flesh was starting to hurt.
"Draco?" she called his name softly.
His forearms trembled across her torso. He held still for a few minutes, and exhaled through his teeth.
"Draco?" she repeated.
He furrowed his brows and released a soft, croaking whimper. The sex was desperate and emotional, but he appeared to be more affected than she was. His eyes were still squeezed shut. She wondered what was wrong.
Slowly, he released her breast and she sighed in relief. Hermione saw what would undoubtedly become bruises in the shape of his fingers on her skin. He lowered his hand and rested it on her stomach, still breathing heavily against her jaw.
"Draco?" she repeated, worried now. She lowered her hands from his neck and braced herself on the counter, leaning forward. "Are you alright?"
His fingers twitched against her stomach and she lowered her leg from the sink, wincing from the strain. He softened, and his prick slid out; come dribbled down the inside of her thigh. Hermione turned around to face him, and his hands fell to her hips.
She reached up to cup his face. "Draco?"
He opened his eyes, and they were grey. His grey. Her grey. The color she loved. Had she imagined their darkened shade all along?
"Draco? Talk to me."
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. "Of course you can leave me."
"What?"
She didn't understand what was going through his head. Lightning flashed again. His eyes were grey. She could see clearly now.
"You can leave whenever you want." His hands slid up her sides, her back and over her shoulder blades. "I don't know why I said that."
Thunder crashed and she pressed a tender kiss to his lips, smoothing her hands over the skin of his shoulders.
"But I won't. I love you and I want to be with you. Why would I leave you?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"No," he backed up and stared to the side, disturbed. "That's not what I meant. I think I… maybe I panicked when I saw you were gone."
She turned his face back to her so she could see his expression. He looked ashamed.
"You're okay now?"
He nodded silently.
Hermione thought back to how demoralizing the war could be sometimes. With her parents gone, the future unknown, Harry's miserable fate, and wondering if in the end they would all die anyway, it was hard not to give in to moments of despair.
She was Occluding a lot recently to keep her emotions in check. The mental strain took a toll and while Occlumency provided temporary relief, it was exhausting in the long term. She knew Draco Occluded frequently as well, much more than she had to. And while she worried about hurting her friends, he could be tortured and killed. He was under so much more pressure than she was.
"It's the war," she explained, confident that's what was bothering him. "The future is uncertain, and sometimes bleak. Everyone has those moments. I know I do."
The corner of Draco's mouth lifted in a half grin. "Even you?" he appeared grateful for her admission.
Hermione smiled, and strained upwards to kiss that half-grin. "Even me."
oooooooooooooooooo
"This is the biggest pile of shite I have ever read in my entire life," Draco said, turning over towards her under the covers. "And I've read enough of that anti-Mud-" He cleared his throat. "Muggle-born propaganda Umbridge is pushing to last a lifetime."
Hermione glanced up from her book to see what he had chosen this time from her shelf. He was eyeing The Crucible as if it were one of Hagrid's baking attempts.
She rolled over to face him and placed a bookmark in her book, setting it aside. "The Muggles involved had to be Obliviated. So a Muggle account of the Salem witch trials would be very different from what we learned in Professor Binns's class."
"But… the devil? Possession?" he asked, incredulous. "Poppet dolls? Appearing in dreams and making people sick? Why make magic so evil? It sounds like something out of Tales of Beetle the Bard to scare your children with."
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "The Puritans actually did use the devil as a threat to make children behave, and to scare adults into adhering to societal norms." Draco's features darkened at her words. She knew he would resent that. He had been lied to all his life in order to make him fall in line. "Wizards knew that, and the cover-up fit in well with their religious beliefs at the time."
"That cover up just exacerbated the differences between us."
Hermione smiled to herself, watching Draco argue against misinformation designed to keep the Wizard and Muggle worlds apart, but she didn't want to interrupt him.
"And you have this book in your room so you must think the story has value even though it's a load of bollocks." Draco spoke to her in an accusatory manner. "Why?"
She took the book from him and flipped towards the end so he could read the brief biography of Arthur Miller included at the back. "The author actually wrote this play in protest of the political persecution that was happening in the United States after World War II. Keep reading. It's good."
He looked skeptical.
"Americans regard the Salem witch trials as a dark period in their history. Just like Europeans do with the Inquisition and other witch burnings. This play doesn't portray the Salem witch trials as anything but evil."
"But that's only because Muggles don't think magic exists," Draco countered. "If they knew wizards existed now, they'd continue persecuting us like they always have. They can't even get along with each other. That's why we have the Statute of Secrecy."
Hermione pondered his comment in silence. He wasn't wrong. "That's true, and neither can we. Humans have a hard time accepting outsiders. It's not in our nature, whether Wizard or Muggle."
Draco set the book down and gazed quietly at her for a few moments. He tucked a curl behind her ear, and left his hand resting on the side of her face, thumb caressing the line of her jaw.
His voice softened. "How are we supposed to get off Earth if we can't work together?" His lips quirked upward, teasing her. "Didn't you say we had to eventually?"
She lay her hand atop his wrist and slid her fingers down his forearm, feeling the soft hairs and muscles under his skin. "We've got five billion years to work things out. It will happen if we try."
"True."
Hermione eyed the play, tossed to the side. Draco didn't appear interested in reading it anymore. "I think you'll identify with the main character, John Proctor."
Draco jerked his head back, offended. "He cheated on his wife."
"I'm not saying you're an adulterer. But he's done things he regrets. Like you." She motioned to the book with her chin. "Keep reading."
He hesitated while thoughts unknown to her raced through his head. Something she said had bothered him. She wondered if she had inadvertently crossed a line she was unaware he had and was about to ask when he warily reached for the book.
"If I don't like the story, you owe me, Granger."
Hermione cuddled closer to him with a smile and opened her book so she could start reading again. "Are you extorting sexual favors?"
A sly grin appeared on Draco's face. "That's a fair assessment."
ooooooooooooo
Hermione rubbed her eyes to see the early morning light enter through the window. She turned to see Draco with his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling and wondered how long he'd been awake. She ran a hand over his bare chest with a smile, enjoying the feel of his skin and hard muscles. She crawled on top of him, but he didn't show any interest despite the fact that she was naked.
Normally he was insatiable in the morning, sometimes waking her with a rumbling growl to her ear and his erection pressed hard against her backside. But now he appeared pensive. Worried even. He must really be bothered by something.
Draco stared up at her, brows furrowed in thought. "He refused to be used."
Hermione blinked. Confused. "Who? What?"
"John Proctor. That's why you said I'd identify with him."
He must have stayed up late reading The Crucible if he already finished the play. With the haunted, hollow look in his eyes, she wondered if he had been up all night thinking about it.
"Yes."
"He redeemed himself and his wife forgave him."
She nodded and ran a hand through his fringe, cupping his cheek. "That's right."
His jaw clenched and she felt his bones shift under her fingers. "Are you implying that I can redeem myself and you'll forgive me?"
"Draco." Her lips parted in surprise. "You already have redeemed yourself. Ten times over." He looked to the side, a faint hint of disgust on his features. Her voice softened. "You don't believe that?"
"Maybe I should go to Azkaban."
What?
Hermione blinked down at him. Her thoughts strayed to Draco's drunken confession of having murdered prisoners, and she had been wondering about Kingsley's evasions at Order meetings. She knew Kingsley wouldn't perform the Unbreakable Vow for Lucius. That was clear from the beginning and she still felt horribly for allowing Draco to think that his entire family would avoid Azkaban. Even if he demonstrated that he could be trusted.
But Kingsley had also been reluctant to perform the vow to keep Draco out of Azkaban and hadn't given her a clear reason as to why. He knew what Draco's crimes were and still his explanations were vague. Hinting at a promise… that one day Draco would demonstrate trust, but never following through when he so obviously had. Furthermore, her confidence in Draco's character was not taken into account at all. Kingsley knew she was in love with him. It didn't matter that she was right, he continued to use her emotional attachment against her.
She returned her thoughts to Draco.
"Whatever you've done, it was because you didn't have a choice. And you wouldn't be able to continue to spy – the Order would lose. It's because of you we're all still alive. You deserve a future."
His cheeks reddened at the expression on her face. But Draco didn't answer. The Crucible wasn't the only book he had read which involved a story involving redemption and forgiveness. She wondered why this story in particular bothered him so much.
"Do you know when I forgave you, Draco?"
"When I gave you the diadem?" he spoke to the side.
"Long before that."
He turned back to her, curious. "The art museum?"
She shook her head.
"The night we went to see Star Wars?" his voice rose in question.
Hermione shook her head again and his eyes widened. "Before that even?"
She traced his lips with her finger. "It wasn't an exact moment; it was more of a progression. But if I had to draw a line in the sand, I'd say it was when I told you about Dolohov's suicide."
He looked confused and kissed her fingertip. "But I hadn't… Why?"
"I noticed you started exploring my room, reading my books and listening to my music." He uncrossed his arms from behind his head and slid his hands up her thighs, resting them on her waist. "It's brave to question what you've been taught. And you have to be willing to humble yourself and admit you might be wrong."
"But I hadn't even changed my beliefs then," he protested.
She shrugged. "That's when I first noticed you were actively making an effort to do so. At that point it was only a matter of time, and it wasn't even me that convinced you. You changed all by yourself. I was only a sounding board for your questions and doubts."
Draco had changed. He had demonstrated trust, and Kingsley knew exactly what his crimes were. The more Hermione thought about Draco's situation, the more she was convinced that Kingsley was withholding something from her, just like he had Tonks with his access to a skilled Legilimens.
She was going to find out what it was.
Draco would go to Azkaban over her dead body.
Feeling better in her resolve to help him get a pardon, she caressed the morning stubble on his jaw and upper lip, drawing patterns on his face and neck. She loved the way his eyes reflected the early morning light. Hermione wanted to lean down and kiss him, but he still looked disturbed.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"John Proctor. He may have redeemed himself, but they killed him."
Chapter end notes:
Next chapter: Hermione breaks down
a href=" wiki/The_Crucible" rel="nofollow"The Crucible/a
It's a classic! I know I'm making some American references in this fic (I try and use British ones) and Hermione would, of course, be more likely to have British authors on her bookshelf. I grew up in the States so I'm more familiar with American literature. When thinking of books Draco would be especially drawn to or impacted by, American stories are the first to come to mind. So I apologize in advance for the Ameri-centric view.
At least George Orwell was British!
