Chapter 8

Hermione woke with a start.

"Harry!"

She pushed herself up, bleary eyed and blinking to clear her vision. Malfoy was facing her on their common room couch, shirtless but wearing his trousers. She was naked, covered in a light blanket, and sitting on the couch with his legs extended next to her. What was going on? His grey eyes flicked up from the book he was reading, clearly amused at her confusion.

Right. His evening of blackmailed debauchery.

"Dreaming of Scarhead? Tell him to thank me for your new skill set."

"You're disgusting, Malfoy." It was actually Ron that she was interested in, but there was no reason to share that information with him.

"That has been established." He placed a ripped piece of parchment in his book and closed it.

"How long was I out?"

"Two hours."

She blinked in surprise, then rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. He'd let her sleep, hadn't woken her up despite the fact that his time was limited. And he'd covered her up with a blanket. She lifted the blanket and looked between her legs. He'd Scourgified her as well.

She looked at the clock. Ten thirty. One and a half hours left. She looked back at him in confusion.

Why?

He seemed to not care anymore about using her, playing games, or the remaining time that she was still legally bound to him. He let her sleep for two hours. Would he have let her sleep the entire night?

He was studying her while she in turn, pondered his consideration of her. He was full of contradictions.

"Why are you proficient at Obliviation?" he asked.

She stiffened.

"I don't have to tell you about the war," she answered.

"But you are," he pressed. "Good at it." He wasn't really asking, just confirming a fact.

She considered her reply. "More than I would have liked to be."

She didn't know why he was asking now. He had already agreed to be Obliviated by her. Something that required an incredible amount of trust, both in her and in her magical capability. With a start, she didn't know why she hadn't thought of that sooner. He couldn't possibly believe in that blood purity tripe if he was allowing her to Obliviate him in the first place. She had been so focused on protecting the secrecy of the Horcrux mission that she had entirely missed the implications of their agreement. Did he consider her to be the exception to the rule about Muggle-borns? Or had he realized that he'd been brainwashed with illogical rubbish?

While she considered her newfound insights about him, he pondered the hidden meaning behind her answer, running his thumb along the binding of his book.

At last, Malfoy's shoulders sagged and a faint expression of relief appeared on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, sighed, swiveled around, and got up from the couch to walk towards the kitchenette. He didn't appear in any rush to do anything else with her. Perhaps it was the heavy topic of conversation, or maybe because he'd orgasmed twice tonight and needed more time to recover. She got up and walked to the loo. He looked like he had already washed up while she was sleeping.

Hermione still felt a residual throbbing between her legs. She couldn't believe what he had done to her. Earlier in the evening, she hadn't been expecting to orgasm even once. Now, she had no idea how many times he'd made her come. And he'd done so after he had already finished in her mouth. There was no benefit that she could think of for him to make her come like that, so why…? She had protested, hadn't wanted him to finger her arse like he did, but that last bit on the couch was purely about her pleasure. Not his at all.

Unless he had been preparing her for something else. He'd put more than one finger in her arse, after all. He had been pulling on her, stretching her. She closed her eyes and trembled at the memory, and how powerful the multiple orgasms had been.

After finishing in the bathroom, she joined him in the kitchenette and watched him make tea for the two of them.

"Checking to see if I'm spiking the pot again, Granger?"

She huffed a laugh. "It would hardly matter. You could order me to ingest a potion if you wanted."

"Yes, I could." He turned to her with a smirk while levitating the tea set and some biscuits over to the coffee table. "Your negotiating skills were better than I thought, but clearly you'd be in trouble if I wasn't such a nice person."

She rolled her eyes and followed him back to the couch. "Nice is hardly the word I would use."

"Which word would you use?" He added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it.

She settled down on the couch and looked at him in thought. "Contradictory."

He furrowed his brows at her. "Interesting choice, considering."

"Considering what?" She reached over for the teapot and poured herself a cup, adding sugar and milk as well.

He laid back and sipped his tea, gazing ahead at nothing in particular. "This war."

He didn't seem keen to elaborate. Perhaps he was referring to his changing ideology and how it manifested. Or his support of a side that was clearly harming himself and his family.

"Surprising," he continued.

Hermione took a sip of her tea, again, floored in his consideration of her despite everything that he had done tonight. "What is?"

He turned to her. "You."

"Well," she answered. "You didn't know me."

He shook his head and laughed. "That's not what I meant, Granger. In addition to your sexual proclivities…" She felt her core heat at his words. "You swear like a sailor."

She put her cup down on the saucer, offended. "I do not!"

He laughed. "Have you heard the words coming out of your mouth this evening?"

Hermione huffed. "Well, that's different! You would too if you were scared of…" She paused, and a slow smile spread across her lips.

She had him.

"What?" His voice sounded uneasy.

She laughed, and then laughed again. She had been so worried about this evening but not anymore. She set her teacup down on the table and turned to him. He leaned back slightly when he saw the expression on her face.

"And that's the other thing," he continued. "You're fucking scary, Granger. You can't bring yourself to Imperius me but you threaten my dick with gangrene. I'm afraid to even ask what you're thinking right now."

Still smiling, she asked, "Are you planning to bugger me tonight, Malfoy?"

His eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead. "Obviously."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

He looked confused at her question. "You couldn't guess? Putting you in your place. Same as everything else we've done tonight. I'm also going to fuck your cunt."

"But you don't believe any of that. Putting me in my place."

"So?" He didn't even bother denying it.

"Why then?"

"It'll feel fantastic. Remember, you offered me whatever I wanted. I'll be gentle, I promise. If you think it'll be that bad, hex my balls off and tear up the contract. You'll definitely be screaming." He smirked. "Just not in pain."

A heat spread between her thighs at his words, but she had no intention of letting him bugger her. Finally, her two-fold threat would save her. He didn't know what sex toys were. He didn't know she could retaliate like this.

"Do you know what a strap-on is, Malfoy?"

He placed his tea cup down on the table and turned to her in cautious curiosity.

She had the little shit. She stood up so that she could tower over him for once.

Feeling heady with her impending victory, she spread her lips into a slow smile. For the first time this evening, she felt in control. The term was fairly descriptive, and she wondered if he had already guessed what she was referring to.

"You agreed to the two-fold limitation because you wanted me to order you around anyway." He eyed her warily, unsure of where the conversation was going. "It's one thing to enact a dominatrix fantasy with me smacking you around a bit, but you thought I couldn't bugger you in the arse because I don't have the anatomy."

His eyes widened in understanding, and she saw his Adam's apple bob. He stood up in alarm.

When Draco got angry, she noticed that his voice got lower, softer. She was the opposite. She poked her finger into his chest as she picked up steam. To her delight, he took a faltering step backward.

"So, if your pathetic excuse for a prick goes somewhere I don't want it, I'll make sure the strap-on is two times longer, two times thicker, and I'll slam it into you two times harder." She punctuated each point with a jab to his chest. "Twice!" she ground out through her teeth. She closed in on him, not caring that her bare breasts were pressing against his chest. "I will, quite literally, tear you a new arsehole, Draco Malfoy!" she yelled up at him.

His jaw clenched as he stared down at her, grey eyes smoldering with desire. He looked like he was going to say something, and then changed his mind. She waited. His voice came out gravelly. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now."

She looked down and saw that he was rock hard. Already. He was absolutely perverse.

She looked back up. His eyes were searing her in their intensity, and her heartbeat sped up in anticipation. She wanted him too.

"Then fuck me already," she hissed.

There was a pause, and Hermione watched his gaze shift from her eyes to her mouth. He was going to do it. He was finally going to kiss her.

In the next second, Malfoy's face lowered to hers. Their mouths met, and she immediately parted her lips for him with a whimper of longing. His tongue slithered between her lips, and she felt a burst of flame within her chest. He moaned into her mouth, and his tongue traced her teeth, tongue, and the lines of her lips.

She hadn't known what kissing him would be like, but she'd desperately wanted to. All this time, she had been staring at his mouth, which was now sucking on her bottom lip while she gasped for air. At his tongue, which slid against hers as she threaded her fingers into his hair. At his lips, which were soft and yielding as they pressed against her skin. At his jaw, which she cupped with her hand, feeling the bones move as he slowly, powerfully claimed her mouth.

She ran one hand up his chest to cup the nape of his neck and another through his hair, gripping it hard. He moaned into her mouth and threaded his fingers into her braid, holding her head in place while he made quick work of his trouser button and zipper. She felt him kick off his trousers and boxers while he moved her head to the side, licking and sucking her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She could barely keep up with him.

His hand came back down to her rear, and he pressed his erection into her pelvis, rubbing her against him. She wanted him inside her. He kept pushing into her, forcing her to walk backwards while his hands groped, grabbed, and massaged her all over her body. She wasn't sure where he was walking them to, and he wouldn't let her turn her face around to see, so intent was he on kissing her.

She couldn't think with the feel of his skin on hers, his hard muscles pressing into the softness of her body. His tall physical presence completely encased her petite one. He forced her down to the floor with his body, and she bent her knees into a crouch and then lay backwards with him on top of her. He brought his hand down between her legs and tested her slit.

Hermione pushed her pelvis toward him, wanting more, and laughed. She didn't feel nervous about having sex for the first time. It was on her terms now. She had won, and she had no doubt he would make it good for her. She couldn't believe it, but she trusted him to do so. Thinking back, he had already prepared her by getting her ridiculously wet, loosening her up by making her come, and working more fingers inside her so she would be stretched out. She could enjoy this. She would enjoy this. If anything, she fucking deserved it after all he put her through.

He inserted a finger, rubbed her clit with his thumb, and she bucked up, feeling his digit curl against her, moving in and out. He rubbed her clit again, and she dug her fingers into his back, keening.

"Another?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes," was her breathy answer. He took out his finger and paused with the two at her entrance. He wasn't moving. She pressed herself onto his digits but they just bent under her pressure.

"Unnnngggghghhhhh!" she growled at him. "Malfoy!"

He chuckled and inserted them while she dug her fingers into his shoulders, into his back, and grabbed him wherever she could. She wanted to feel him on top of her, against her, next to her, inside her.

"Merlin, you're fun, Granger," he spoke into her ear.

His thumb rubbed her clit while she bucked and gasped, whimpering nonsensically. She sucked on his jaw, on his ear, on his neck - wherever she could reach.

He pushed himself up and looked down at her, removing his fingers. She whined in disappointment, and he smiled.

"Ready?"

She was.

He stared down at her, lowered his head and brushed her lips tenderly. She breathed out, trying to capture his mouth to deepen the kiss, but he raised his head again, lips quirking upward as she pouted from the loss of his mouth, slid his pelvis between her legs, and aligned himself. She spread wider to accommodate him and reached down to grab his arse. He laughed and pushed forwards towards her entrance, probing her slit. She bit her lip in anticipation and dug her fingers into his arse, trying to get him inside her.

Malfoy pressed lightly, pushing the tip in and backing out. Testing her. Teasing her. He entered a bit more and pulled out again. She grunted in frustration, trying to get him inside her. She pushed her chin up, straining, and felt him enter her once more, pushing through, stretching her, filling her, all the way to her cervix. As he entered her, he let out a long, low hum which ended with a pleading grunt.

It was smooth, it was hot, and it stung, but it felt good. She opened her eyes and shuddered at the intensity of focus on his face. She took a moment to adjust to his girth, to his length, and then wrapped her legs around his.

"S'Okay?" His question came out like a sigh.

Hermione nodded, and he pulled out slowly and pushed back into her. She moaned and slid her fingers from his arse, over his lower back, and up his shoulders, feeling the contours of his muscles as they flexed and contracted.

His eyes were beautiful. They were pained. They were ecstatic.

He pulled out slowly and pushed in again. She stretched her legs, wrapping her feet around his calves and then pulling her limbs up again, digging her heels into his buttocks. They both gasped at the change in angle.

He propped himself up on his forearm and reached down between her legs. He thumbed her clit, and she bit her lip. She felt completely enveloped by him. His lips and his tongue lowered to her mouth again and she kissed him deeply, wanting nothing more than to explore his mouth with her tongue again. His hand was on her forehead, his body was atop her, the length of him was sliding ever so slowly inside of her, and now his fingers were pressing her clit.

She grabbed him. Everywhere she could. His hair, his jaw, the back of his neck, his shoulders. He was building her up again. His tongue penetrated her mouth slowly, deeply, again and again, in time with his cock. She couldn't do anything more but simply receive and experience what he was doing to her. She was nearly there. She gasped into his mouth and arched, pushing her chin up and closing her eyes, but he cupped her cheek and angled her face to force her to look at him.

Hermione opened her eyes and there he was. A tidal wave of pleasure crested as his grey eyes watched her. She gasped and whimpered while her orgasm washed over her. He slid in and out of her while she contracted around him, and he grunted a moan. Slowly she came down, and his eyes fluttered shut as he lowered to kiss her again.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, trying to hold him tighter, trying to bring him closer, trying to touch every inch of his body while her tongue swiped every inch of his mouth.

He lifted himself again to look down at her, and his pelvis snapped into her once, twice. With a groan, she watched his face as he came inside her, just as he had watched hers. In that moment, Malfoy was pure. Unrestrained and vulnerable. She felt the warmth of his seed inside her, and, after a few seconds, he huffed a breath against her lips. The two of them were silent, looking at each other, breathing heavily in their afterglow. Still, he didn't move from where he was atop her. She didn't want him to.

The seconds ticked by, and she tenderly tucked a longer strand of his blond hair behind his ear. She felt him soften and slide out of her, slick between her legs. She didn't know what to think. She didn't understand. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be tender, caring, and intimate. She was supposed to worry about him hurting her. She was supposed to worry about him degrading her. Even if it felt good.

He lowered his head to her again and brushed his lips against hers. The gentle contact was confusing.

"Hermione?" he asked tentatively.

"Mmmmm?"

She was surprised he would address her as such. He must have felt overwhelmed by their shared intimacy as well.

He rested his head in the nape of her neck. She could feel his lips on her skin. His chest rose and fell and she felt his heart thudding against her chest. After a few moments of silence he spoke. His words were low, muffled.

"It's this Sunday. When they come."

She tensed. His words brought reality crashing down around her.

Sunday.

That was three days from now. It made sense. The school would be in disarray with no classes. If the Ministry was going to implement its new administration at Hogwarts, they'd meet the least resistance from the teachers when the school was unorganized. It wasn't as if any of them were in a position to resist anyway.

He rolled off of her to lay on his back on the floor. She turned on her side to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling. Why was he telling her this?

"Draco?" His name felt foreign on her tongue.

He turned to her.

"What happened to you?"

He swallowed and turned onto his side to face her, propping his head up with his hand. He looked down between them. They each had fluids between their legs: a mixture of blood, semen, and her arousal.

"Happening," he corrected, his voice thick. "You'll have to Obliviate more than just my memories of your bag. The Dark Lord. He's…" He stared at her, weighing his next words. "They're all at my home."

She stared at him in horror, raising herself to sit cross-legged as she digested the information. She couldn't think like this. She stood up and walked over to the couch, grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around herself, and sat back down in front of him.

Voldemort was at Malfoy Manor? Harry had told her that Voldemort was one of the most accomplished Legilimens alive. If Malfoy was perceived as acting in a way in which his loyalty was put under question, his life would be forfeit. She felt the blood rushing in her ears at the implications of what he had told her.

He had just risked his life.

Here.

Now.

For her.

He'd blackmailed her for sex and then risked his life to ensure she'd get away and have valuable information on Voldemort's whereabouts to boot. Not only would she have to Obliviate the notebook but most of their interactions as well. They were confusing enough to her already. They would raise alarms if he were suspected and questioned about them.

He pushed himself up and sat cross-legged before her, elbows resting on his knees. His voice shook slightly as he spoke again. "You'll have to erase my entire memory of you here."

As much as this arrangement between them was sick and twisted, they had gotten to know each other a lot better. And now... He wouldn't remember any of it. Even more disheartening, he wouldn't remember the choice he had just made to risk his life and help her. To help the Order. Hermione felt something crumple inside of her.

"That won't work, Draco. It's too obvious," she explained. "They'll know someone Obliviated you and they'll be incentivized to figure out why. They might successfully recover your memories. If it's a botched job, they could permanently damage your mind."

"Fuck," he said with a harsh exhale and looked to the side.

He was a sodding prick, but she didn't want him to die. And she didn't want him to suffer permanent brain damage either. She reached out to take his hand. His eyes flicked up to hers again.

"I can make it work," she said. "They only see memories. They won't know what you're thinking or feeling in them." His gaze shifted down to their hands; his fingers curled around hers. "I'll remove the memories of tonight and those few times we spoke. That should be enough. It's already known we shared a living space. You need memories of that."

He studied her. "How can you remove the memory of me stealing your bag in the library if you weren't there? How does that work?"

"I'll remove the memory of the bag and everything in it. If anyone is looking at your memories from the library, they will seem benign. Any memories at all involving my bag simply won't be there."

He was quiet for a few minutes, deep in thought.

"Hermione?" He brushed his thumb over her knuckles and scrunched his nose boyishly, as if bracing himself for an onslaught. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like what he was about to say next. "There's a bit more than your beaded bag that you need to remove."

What?

She felt her heart beat hammer in her chest. He looked increasingly apprehensive as the seconds ticked by.

"Draco," she hissed. "What have you done?"

Chapter end notes:

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