A/N: Hello my lovelies! Yay! We hit 20,000 hits last night! Holy smoking pajamas! I was wondering if anyone would be willing to do cover art for this story? I can't even Photoshop a straight line. As a thank you to my artist, I will not only credit you here, but I would be willing to write a custom one-shot just for you. :)
These next few chapters were what I had in mind all along when I came up with the idea for this story. I'm going to have such fun writing these. I hope you have as much fun reading them. Can I have a review for Christmas? Happy Holidays, my Lovelies!
-Elvee
Snatch
Chapter Seventeen
"Give a man a free hand and he'll run it all over you."
-Mae West
Draco and Hermione popped into existence in a side alley in Oslo, Norway. After apperating across the sea, her vision tunneled and she wobbled in Draco's arms. Instinctively he tightened his arms to keep her from falling and searched her face. "Hey," He said quietly. "You alright?"
She balled her fists in his shirt to steady herself. "Yeah. Just never took a passenger two thousand kilometers before." She gave a weak laugh and shivered violently.
"We have to get you out of the cold, Granger. Where's this hotel?" Her eyes were losing focus. It was becoming an effort to stay awake. Despite sharing their magic, she was dangerously tapped out. "Better yet, we need to get you to a healer."
"No!" She snapped. Her eyes were closed, but she fought for consciousness. "We can't be seen! Get the Pepper Up potion out of my bag."
He opened the little beaded bag and looked inside. It looked like the cargo hold of a ship. He dug around fruitlessly for a few minutes before he snatched her wand from numb fingers and summoned it. He pressed the potion to her lips and forced it down her throat. "Where's the hotel, Granger?"
"It's called the Thief. Go to the Thief. Papers and muggle money in my bag." The Pepper Up was warming her from the inside out, but she was so bone tired.
Draco put an arm under her shoulders and supported her as they stumbled to the curb. Fifteen minutes later they walked into the lobby of the Thief hotel. Hermione was struggling on the edges of consciousness and swayed dangerously as Malfoy checked them in under assumed names. The clerk behind the counter gave Hermione a sharp glare before she felt Malfoy kiss her temple and give her an affectionate squeeze, "My sister-in-law just had a baby. I think we went a bit overboard with the toasts."
At his explanation the clerk's look softened, "Congratulations, sir. You'll be on the top floor, suite 1415." She slid the key across the counter.
Malfoy pocketed the key and scooped Hermione up bridal style as she fought off another swoon. She threw her arms around his neck and snuggled in close, whispering, "You better keep your hands to yourself."
She felt him drop a kiss on her head and murmur, "Since when is it indecent for a husband to carry his wife, Mrs. Matthews?" He emphasized her new assumed name and even though she couldn't see his face, she could picture the smirk on his face as he caught the irony of them traveling together under the rouse of husband and wife.
It certainly wasn't lost on her. It wasn't like she had a choice, neither the Order nor the Death Eaters would be looking for a married couple. She was lightheaded and giddy. As the elevator doors closed, she gave a dry chuckle. "Careful what you wish for."
Malfoy carried her into the hotel suite and placed her gently on the bed. He slipped off her ridiculously high heels and pulled the blankets up over her. Safely behind closed doors, she let her eyes slide shut and let out an exhausted breath.
Shuffling steps on the carpet nearby told her Malfoy was hovering. "Granger, are you sure you should sleep, I mean, isn't it dangerous for you to be so low on magic?" It was actually. It was much like a muggle falling asleep with a head wound. She wasn't about to admit it, but sharing magic with him had shaken her. She had never expected to feel any of those things in relation to Draco bloody Malfoy, and she wasn't about to put herself in another compromising position.
A slow smile crawled across her lips. "You're just trying to share magic again, you pervert."
"No!" He insisted. "I mean it! When all your magic is gone, you can die, right?" He grabbed her hand, it was clammy and cold. She began shivering under the covers.
"Malfoy if you try to take advantage of me, I'll hex you so hard..." She tried to threaten him, she really did, but even to her own ears her words came out thin and thready.
His free hand smoothed the curls back from her face. "Merlin, Granger! Stop being so stubborn! You're shaking so hard your teeth are chattering!"
She jerked her hand out of his and slipped it under the blankets, turning away from him. "Don't."
"Look, I don't know what else to do if you won't let me take you to a healer." He was panicked. "What if I let you close your eyes and you never wake up? What then?"
She yawned. "You run, you hide and you don't look back." She snuggled further into the soft pillows, her words fading to a breathy whisper.
"Granger!" She heard him calling to her, but it sounded like his voice came from the end of a long tunnel.
"Wake up!" He yelled. She gasped and her eyes shot open. Malfoy's face was inches from hers. He held both of her hands in his as he growled, "Com'on, dammit! Fight!" His forehead tipped to meet hers, and as it did she felt the intimate embrace of his magic. "Granger!" His breath panted across her cheeks.
Malfoy was on her and over her and holding her, his magic was in her and surrounding her and cradling her. She moaned with the exquisite sensation of being joined with his magic again. In the back of her mind she knew there was a perfectly good reason she shouldn't be doing this. She didn't want to join their magic, she didn't want to ever get that close to him again. It was too tempting to fall over the edge and actually care about him. Malfoy was a means to an end, no more, no less.
"No!" She croaked. Struggling to break their handhold, she discovered she was weak, far too weak to fight him. He held her hands tighter. Gods, would he leave her no dignity?
In response Malfoy threaded his fingers in hers and held her hands over her head, pinning her down as his magic seeped into her, filling her to brimming with warmth and strength. He whispered desperately, "Granger! Don't you dare stop!"
Hermione shook her head weakly as she begged him, "Draco, please, please just... no. I don't want this. I don't want you to..."
His eyes creased in anguish, watching her struggle against him. Then, before she knew what was happening, he crushed his lips desperately to hers. The magic eagerly connected through this new contact and pulsed through her, forcing a ragged moan of ecstasy from her throat.
He took this as permission and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding between her lips, sweeping her mouth, tangling with and tasting her own. Everywhere they touched, every point of skin-on-skin contact was on fire with need. Gods, she wanted to fight it, but that part of her brain was drowned by pure sensation.
She could feel him wanting her, wanting more of his magic to fill her, feeling her overwhelming pleasure, just as she could feel his. Instinctively she knew they were close, so close to something monumental, like knowing when her body was about to orgasm, but it was so much more. It wasn't sex. It wasn't making love. It was tangling magic, and it overwhelmed every logical neuron in her brain. It short circuited every bit of common sense in her sensible head to the point where all she could do was hold on for dear life and experience it.
If they didn't stop soon, they'd both wind up naked and intimate in the way that only a witch and wizard could bring completion to one another. And she wanted it. Merlin help her, all of her good intentions for saving herself for her husband seemed so inconsequential. Draco was here and he was filling her and touching her and it was like a drug, taking her higher and further out of touch with her sense of reason.
He moaned with pleasure and the sound of his voice snapped something back into place. Just like her virginity, she wanted to give her magic to the man she'd be with forever. Even Merlin knew that if she did wind up marrying Malfoy, it's be a cold day in hell before they consummated anything. He wouldn't be her happily-ever-after. He wouldn't be the father of her children or her forever. He'd be a pissed off pureblood that only tolerated her existence because killing her would mean killing himself shortly thereafter.
She broke her hands free and shoved at his chest. As he broke away, she turned her head, refusing to look at him and whispered, "Don't. Please."
His cheeks were flushed with desire, his eyes dilated with pleasure. Confused, and dazed with sensation, he searched her face. He sucked on his bottom lip and asked softly, "What do you mean 'don't'?"
"Congratulations." Her words grew steadier and more acidic as she continued, "You just guaranteed I'd live long enough to take you to your mum. Good job. Now get off me!"
He rolled off the bed and stood at the window, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. "You think that's what this was about?" She turned away from him. "Jesus, Granger! You're really thick, you know that?"
"You had no right!" She snapped, hitching the blanket up to her neck, covering the low cut neckline of her dress.
"No right? You. Were. Dying." He ground out every word. "So... So what? I was supposed to stand by and watch? Maybe roll your body when it was over and walk out that door cursed with not one but two unpaid life debts?" He ran his hand through his hair again, rougher this time, then let it fall to his thigh with a slap. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"
She scoffed, "Saving my life! Right! If that's all it was, Malfoy, then why didn't you let go when I woke up?" He mumbled something incoherent. "Why didn't you let go?" She spat again.
"Maybe I didn't want to!" He roared, whirling to face her.
She jumped out of bed, swaying with dizziness. She anchored herself on the nightstand until the room stopped moving, then grabbed her beaded bag and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
She wanted to feel violated. She wanted to be disgusted. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Truth be told, she'd liked it and that had scared her more than anything she'd faced so far. She threw her beaded bag down on the vanity with a clatter and stared at herself in the mirror. Having feelings, any type of feelings for Draco Malfoy was completely and utterly out of the question.
She was not going to sacrifice the only thing she was likely to have left at the end of this: herself. She might be alone and trapped in a loveless marriage, but she was not going to give anyone the satisfaction of actually getting beneath her skin. Draco Malfoy was playing with her, plain and simple. She'd taken a Pepper Up potion, she would have been fine with a good night's sleep. Damn him! Why couldn't he just let her sleep?
Why couldn't she have pushed him off sooner? Why couldn't she remember he wasn't to be trusted? Why couldn't she keep her distance and get the job over with?Why couldn't he be the spoiled prat he'd always been? Why couldn't he call her mudblood and insult her? Why couldn't he be someone she could hate?
Why, why why?
Seven days, she reminded herself. Seven damn days until she could dump him with his mother and never see the bouncing blonde ferret again. She looked into the mirror, seeing the hurt and anger in her own eyes and knew that seven damn days was far too long. Despite her best efforts, he already had his hooks in her.
She took a brief aggravated bath, scrubbing too hard in water that was too hot. By the time she got out, Hermione's temper was festering right under the surface. She roughly dried herself, and yanked on her pajamas. It was four in the morning and now that her temper was starting to fold, the adrenaline that had kept her going was bleeding off. She was shaky, exhausted, confused and in a temper the likes of which only Draco Malfoy could ever inspire in her.
She took a deep breath and snatched the door to the bedroom open. Malfoy stood across the darkened room, staring out the window at the Oslo skyline. "I thought you'd be gone," she said, a little too matter of fact to be friendly.
He didn't look at her when he replied, "And why would I do that?"
"One could always hope." She picked up a pillow from the king sized bed and threw it at him. It hit him and bounced onto the floor at his feet. "You get the couch." She tucked her beaded bag under her own pillow and climbed into bed, her wand drawn.
He glared at her, snatching the pillow off the floor. "Get over yourself, Granger! It was just a little magic sharing. It didn't mean anything."
"Malfoy, you can fuck whoever you want!" Liar, her conscience said as she beat her pillow into submission. "You can share magic with whoever you want!" Liar, it piped up again as she ripped the covers over her. "I don't care what you do or who you do it with!" As long as it's with me! "Just leave me alone!"
He stalked across the room and slapped the pillow on the end of the couch. "What the hell is your problem, Granger?" He poked his finger at her over the back of the couch for emphasis. "A little magic between us and you'd think we're engaged or something!"
She bolted upright in the bed and turned on the lights with an angry flick of her wand, "You don't get it, do you? Until your father is dead, we are practically engaged! Excuse the hell out of me if your name is not the first one that pops into my head when I think of sharing myself with someone else!"
He strode out from behind the couch, closing the distance to the bed, sneering, "Who makes your little heart flutter, then, Granger? You got his hair in that clever kit of yours? If that's what it takes to get some peace around here, then mix up the polyjuice and let's go! I am sick to death of dealing with your passive-aggressive, sexually repressed mudblood self."
"How dare you!" She hissed indignantly with narrowed eyes.
He crossed his arms and struck a pose of exaggerated thought, tapping his finger to his chin. "Krum? No, even I don't think you have a thing for rapists. How about Weasel-bee? Is that it? You still pining away for that loser? Or no... Scarhead! You're more into the sniveling self-sacrificing hero..."
"One more word," she warned him, hissing dangerously, her wand lowered at his chest and trembling from the effort not to use it.
He strode up to the side of the bed, pushing his chest into the tip of her wand. He thumped his chest. "Why am I not good enough for you, Granger? What is it about me that you hate so much?"
With those words, her fury deflated like a balloon. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before saying slowly, "Go to bed, Malfoy."
But Malfoy had worked himself up quite a head of steam, and wasn't about to go to bed. He pressed harder against her wand, looming over her. "I'm good enough to redeem but not to fuck, is that it?"
"Don't do this!" She whispered.
"All those little truths you told me at the cabin, funny how none of them was about you." His eyes flashed. "We had my truths, Snape's truths even Krum's truths, but what about yours, Granger? I think it's time we hear some of your truths."
"Draco..." She tried putting some weight in her voice, trying to get him to slow down, to think about what he was saying, but it wasn't working. He was in a fury.
"Too good to go slumming with a Death Eater?" He ripped back his sleeve to expose the Dark Mark and gave a bitter laugh, saying, "You think I wanted this?" He shook his forearm in her face. "Do you?"
She dropped her wand into her lap and gently circled her hand around his left wrist. She watched him visibly calm as her fingers touched him. His chest heaving, he pinned her with a poignant questioning look. It was full of pain and anger and a flicker of hope.
She bent her head and pressed her lips to his Mark. "We can't."She whispered before looking up into his eyes. They went iridescent with pain as she continued, "I'm not a one night kind of girl and I won't let you risk anything else."