Chapter Thirteen

I should mention that I do actually have a plan properly written down for where this story is going. But somehow whenever I start typing the characters just choose their own actions independently of me… and it's very confusing! So my ultimate ending is still a bit up in the air now. Help! As always, JKR is much better at this writing business as she created the magnificent story we all adore.

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It was probably sometime in the early morning, judging by the sickly grey colour of the sun peeking in through the window, when Hermione awoke. It took her a while to drag herself from a pleasant dream she'd been having, but nature was calling so she slipped silently out of bed. The floors were like ice on her bare feet. She cursed and winced as she washed her face and hands in the chilly water of the upstairs bathroom. When she was done she gladly launched herself back through the door and onto the bed, burrowing under the covers once more and wriggling her toes to warm them up again.

Hermione fiddled unconsciously with the pendant that was resting against the skin just below her collarbone. She tilted her head to the side and observed the sleeping form next to her with a gentle smile. Draco looked so peaceful and untroubled when he was asleep. He seemed so innocent, so vulnerable. It reminded her that they were both too young to be involved in any of this. Although she missed the squishy comfort of the old couch in the living room, it was rather nice to be in a bed again. Draco had finally finished fixing up the bedroom – it turned out he was a fairly skilled carpenter now he had his wand back – and Hermione had been pleasantly surprised. The bed was big and so comfortable. She loved the way he had tidied up the window alcove and added a long seat with cushions to lounge on and gaze out the window to the view of the valley sprawling below. But mostly Hermione was yearning to fill up his beautiful oak shelves with hundreds of books to make it really feel like home. She had to actually remind herself quite often that, although she was a secret keeper, the house didn't actually belong to her.

Hermione lifted a hand to brush a few strands of pale blond hair back from Draco's forehead. If she had held any doubts at all about his feelings towards her, they had been quickly dispelled over the course of the last week. She couldn't help but smile softly to herself when she remembered the first dizzying time they slept together just three days ago. It had been a revelation. She had always assumed that a girl's first time was supposed to be an awkward fumbling that resulted in pain and ultimately little satisfaction. Of course logically she understood that this would improve over time, but based on stories from Pavarti and Lavender and the older girls at school, she had been somewhat dreading losing her virginity. What she hadn't expected was Draco. Against all her assumptions about her first time, he had been so passionate, both giving pleasure and demanding things from her with a desperation that made her feel sexy and almost empowered. Just the intensity of his expression when he was staring at her body between kisses had been enough to make her feel more aroused than she ever had been before. And then he had managed to wind her up so high and make her feel so flushed that all she could think about was having him quench the sharp ache that had begun inside her. It had felt so odd at first being stretched around him, but once he had stilled inside her, she had felt this ravenous tingling start to crawl from between her thighs right down to her toes and up her spine. She wanted more. She had begged him to move. And as he buried himself inside her again and again, she had dimly recognised the signs of an orgasm approaching, but had still been taken by surprise. It had felt deeper somehow, numbing her all over. Nothing like what she had experienced by herself. She could have sworn she blacked out for a moment at the peak, but not for so long that she didn't get to watch his own climax. His face had twisted up as if he was in pain, and his whole body had been trembling against her as his expression morphed into one of absolute bliss. She had immediately wanted to capture that look, his total abandonment of control, and replay it over and over again in her mind.

Hermione's smile stretched into a lazy grin as she snuggled in close to Draco's naked chest, resting her head on his shoulder. In the three days since that first experience she had been well and truly spoilt with that same sight so many times that she had lost count. Draco was insatiable. It was like the flood gates had opened and now they both felt bereft if they weren't touching each other in some way. Of course they had spent many daylight hours separately working on the house as before, but it was never too long until Draco was tracking her down and searing her lips with his heated kisses. And it more often than not led to more than just kissing.

With a shiver, Hermione could recall a few significant memories that made her cheeks redden, all from just the last three days. She would never forget the way she had woken up very early the following morning while it was still mostly dark outside, with Draco's mouth trailing a little frantically over her skin.

"Please, Hermione… I need to taste you. I need to feel you come apart on my tongue."

Any timidity or embarrassment she may have felt about that particular act had been quickly buried under the husky force of his voice. How could she feel shy when he was so obviously hungry for her? When it brought him so much pleasure? And soon enough his groans and the voracious attentions she received put a stop to any lingering reservations. It seemed to be something he liked repeating often, as she discovered over the next two days. It wasn't unusual for him to get a gleam in his eye and beg to feel her on his tongue.

Hermione of course had been a bit nervous about returning the favour. It was something she had never done previously; she hadn't even really contemplated it much before, not even in the abstract. But then as things had started escalating with Draco and she had witnessed his own enjoyment of pleasuring her with his tongue, it had taken root in her mind. Against all her expectations she had started to think nonstop about what it would feel like to have him in her mouth. She imagined his expression when he had his orgasm; that wild, half-deranged ecstasy that always made her feel drugged with power. She pictured in detail the feeling of his hands grabbing onto her curls as he climbed the precipice and begged her to let him come in her mouth. These thoughts had consumed her until the previous morning in the shower when, seeing him so pink and perfect in the hot water she had not been able to resist dropping to her knees and giving it a go. And Draco's reaction had certainly not disappointed.

He never disappointed her.

All varieties of sex with Draco seemed to be just pure, unpredictable and natural. And last night had been a perfect example of this. Just when she thought that he was going to stop torturing her with his lips and fingers and take her already, a truly wicked grin had formed on his face. He had swiftly flipped her over until she was sprawled out on her stomach, pressing his chest against her back and laying lightly on top of her.

"You're so wet for me,"

He had growled the words teasingly, but Hermione had been too wound up by then. She had started grinding her hips up against him and telling him to stop being such a fucking bastard and just do it already. Her bossy words had been more than effective. Although she did like seeing his face and watching him come, there had been something very erotic about the way he had entered her from behind, laving kisses across the nape of her neck and down her spine as she bit down hard on the pillowcase beneath her.

Hermione was pulled from her hazy thoughts by the squirming of the body underneath her cheek. Draco murmured something inaudible and then his arm twitched a bit as he woke up. He always roused a little unsteadily in the mornings, and she couldn't really blame him. Falling asleep happy and sated had certainly made a difference to his mental state, but he still suffered terrible nightmares. His sleep was often too short or just plan troubled.

"Morning," he grumbled, shifting to place a gentle kiss against her forehead. Hermione lifted her head, resting it on one hand that was propped against his chest.

"Hey," she said gently in response, frowning when she saw the slight redness in his eyes that revealed how tired he really was.

"Am I still asleep or are we really lying here naked together?"

"You're most definitely awake."

Draco smiled, a hint of something cheeky in his gaze.

"That's odd. Because it feels like a very wonderful dream."

Hermione groaned, giving his skin a little pinch.

"You're such a dork. You've said that three mornings in a row now."

"Yeh well excuse me if I'm still having trouble believing that this is actually real."

She just rolled her eyes and snorted softly at him. His grin remained, though, as he stroked his fingers lazily through her hair.

"You were amazing last night."

"You say that every morning too," she commented, but he didn't seem phased. He lay in silence for a long time, his eyes still pained by some remnant of his nightmares, but his body was relaxed and warm under hers. He may not have admitted it to himself, but Draco was clearly struggling to reconcile the horror of the past few months of his life with this sudden peace he found himself in. Although passionate and almost greedy when it came to physical sensations, he was slow to accept that her emotions and her affection for him were real. He had shown wariness about trying new things (outside the bedroom) such as restoring the house or cooking and cleaning. It was as if he battled with the idea that a simple, quiet life could be so fulfilling. Or maybe he was just shell-shocked. Either way, Hermione was painfully aware of the need to be patient and understanding through every new barrier they encountered. As he lay there now tracing patterns on her arm, she wondered where his mind was drifting. A slightly glassy look was in his eyes that made her heart clench with concern. She felt like she was intruding on a very private moment in which Draco was trying to process his emotions towards something, maybe some terror from the past he had recalled in a dream. With this in mind, she pushed herself off him slowly and sat up, drawing the sheets coyly around her naked breasts.

"I'm going to go have a nice soak in the shower," she told him casually, giving him a tender smile and heading towards the bathroom. She wanted to give him the easy choice to either have space to deal with whatever he was remembering, or to seek her company to help him forget. Her hand was actually resting on the doorknob to the bathroom when she heard his voice.

"Wait!"

Hermione paused and tossed a questioning look over her shoulder. She was aware that the sheet had been left on the bed and she was completely bare from head to toe. The slack, distant look in Draco's eyes had vanished as he stared at her. That heated gaze she had come to love had replaced the scary expression of torment that existed there just moments ago. No one else had ever looked at her like this. She patiently waited for him to voice what he wanted, trying not to feel self-conscious about her nudity. But it was difficult to care when Draco looked like he wanted to eat her up.

"Can…can I… can we…?" he stammered incoherently for a few moments before his nervousness shifted into a sort of frown of determination. He slid forwards on the bed facing her and a muscle visibly clenched in his jaw as his eyes devoured her. When he spoke again his tone had lowered to a growl. "I want you."

Hermione smiled at him, already feeling a tingle of anticipation as she thought of their warm bodies entwined in the shower. She would do anything to pull him back from the brink of despair he would sink into when he relived his past, but it certainly helped that she was longing for him just as much as he evidently was for her, judging on the significant tent in the sheet at his lap.

Without needing any words at all, she lifted her hand up, beckoning for him to come to her. And in an instant Draco had leapt to his feet, grabbed her hand and practically dragged her into the bathroom.

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It wasn't until later that night after a hard day's work (minus a few distractions) that Draco felt like he was really ready to open up to her. He had observed Hermione closely that morning during and after their shower, realising that she was treating him much more carefully, more gently, than usual. He figured at first that she might be sore. It wasn't as if he had gone easy on her after her first time and he felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that maybe he'd pushed her too far. He was certainly aware that his desire had turned into a sort of mindless physical addiction. But that morning she had treated him so tenderly and he had responded. They had caressed each other and taken their time without any sense of urgency. It had been…perfect, actually. Once they slowed down he could just revel in the feelings he had for her. His heart had pounded more forcefully in his chest than any time previous. It had been like basking in Hermione and the acceptance she offered him so freely.

It had roused a stirring of something inside him. Something that he had puzzled over for many hours today as he worked. For a while he had been confused about the feeling of calm that had settled over him. But then he figured it out. There was this new compulsion to share his suffering with her, to trust her with his heartache. It suddenly felt like confessing his past to Hermione was something that would start to heal him, not just bring him more pain.

They lay together now, curled up on the window seat in the bedroom and gazing down at the valley before. Hermione had made them both some hot chocolate, and he drained the dregs of it contentedly from his mug, feeling at peace. The memories could not hurt him here, he realised. Not with Hermione lying so softly against his chest with their fingers intertwined. But still, to give him the courage to continue, Draco took a deep breath against her neck, allowing her scent of lavender and honey to wash over him.

"Can I show you something?" he murmured into her ear. He felt Hermione's assent in the movement of her head nodding against his shoulder rather than a verbal response. But she also released a slight humming sound that vibrated through her and into his chest. It gave him even more strength to continue. He slowly pushed up the sleeve of his shirt from the wrist. As he did, the Dark Mark on his forearm was exposed. A tremor of nerves ran through him. Although she had seen it before, of course, he had always tried to keep it partially hidden or at least subtle. Even when they were stark naked and lost in each other, he attempted to keep his arm twisted away from her sight. Until now this was because it made him feel ashamed and unworthy. But not anymore.

Hermione made a whining sound of sympathy as he held it up to the moonlight. She reached up to run her fingertips over it. A shudder overwhelmed him before he could speak again. The gentle action was so very her that it took him a moment to collect himself.

"I didn't think I would ever feel more pain in my life than the night they gave me this," he started, his voice husky. Hermione nestled further into him. She was attentive but relaxed, knowing that he needed to say this and letting him do so without any fuss or drama. "I had to pretend I wanted it. I didn't have a choice. They had my mother there and Bellatrix was lurking over her… I got the message loud and clear. I couldn't put her life in danger. I had to smile…" Draco shivered, remembering the feeling of disgust at having to appear pleased with what was happening. "And the Dark Lo… he was terrifying. His face was like a skull, lifeless and demonic. I remember he put his hand on my cheek, and I thought I was going to be sick. Thank Salazar he didn't read my mind. But he just waved me away towards the Death Eaters who were waiting. They gave me something to bite down on then one of them pressed their wand to my arm…"

He felt Hermione squirm softly against him and he could only imagine that the pain in her eyes would mirror his own.

"And yet, despite how excruciating that was… it was nothing compared to this one."

He pointed shakily to a scar slightly further up his arm. It was a thick, ropey line, puckered, red and jagged as it circled his arm just below the elbow. He had to swallow the painful lump stuck in his throat. Hermione tilted her head to press her lips softly against his throat where she had burrowed herself. His mouth felt like ash as he began to speak again.

"There was this muggle family that Bellatrix was torturing. She was playing with them, as she usually liked to do. Sadistic bitch. It was a couple and their two children. At that time I was desperately trying to shut everything out. I hid in my room most days. I... I was such a coward. I just locked and warded the door to my bedroom, blocking out all the screams. My mother was with me that day. I preferred to keep her with me. She kept mumbling something about not getting blood on the ancient carpets. About being nice to guests. I had to keep her calm, she was out of her mind and just kept rambling about needing to make things clean. And when I turned my back for just a moment, she got out. I went after her and she was standing in the drawing room. There was a boy tied up there, about eight or nine. He was alone. I guessed that he'd been left there for Greyback. My mother was cooing over him and petting his hair. He had blond hair, but it was all matted and filthy.

The way she was talking to him it was almost like she thought he was me. She kept telling him how much she would miss him when he went to Hogwarts and then she wet a handkerchief and was wiping dirt from his face and saying that father expected him to look his best when their guests arrived. I wanted to pull her away, but strangely the boy seemed almost comforted by her. He was still terrified and confused, and eventually he asked for some food. And…and so I gave him some. I called one of the house elves for some bread…"

He felt a slight dampness against his neck and he knew that Hermione had started crying. He didn't blame her. His voice sounded haunted and weak even to his own ears. And her compassion was as fierce as her intelligence. He distantly wondered if it had been cruel to share such a burden with her. But he knew that she deserved the truth about what he had gone through, even if it hurt.

"You got caught, didn't you?" she muttered pitifully against his skin, her hands curling into fists around his shirt. Draco nodded against her hair. His eyes focused on a sliver of moonlight that was falling softly onto the garden at the front of the house, reflected in the pale glow of Hermione's skin.

"Yes. Bellatrix came in. She found us feeding the child, with mother holding him in an embrace. I don't remember her ever hugging me like that. She'd become almost completely broken by this point."

"And the boy?" she whispered fearfully.

"The moment she walked in, Bellatrix was furious. She had this gleam of insanity in her eyes. You have to understand…" he paused, contemplating his nightmarish memories of his aunt and the way she had haunted Malfoy manor like a dark spirit. It still made his skin crawl. "Bellatrix is completely devoid of all humanity. A husk of a person, really, filled only with bitterness and hatred. She had no sooner taken in the scene before her as she flicked her wand almost casually and in a flash of green light the boy was crumpled on the floor, dead."

Hermione gasped, her fingers tightening their grip on him as the gasp turned into a horrified moan. Draco barely flinched at her reaction, too swept up in the memory as he continued.

"Mother just sat there holding his body, not even seeing her sister there. She just kept saying sweet things to him and rocking him back and forth. Bellatrix ignored her. But I wasn't so lucky. That's when I got this," he gestured to the hideous scar again, "she told me that I wasn't worthy of having the Dark Mark. She kept yelling and saying she was going to slice it from my body so that I would be deformed by my disgrace. She was completely insane, of course. Came at me with a knife. I've…I've never… felt pain like it. But then Lucius came in and stopped her before she succeeded. Though I don't think he cared about me as much as he cared about what it would look like to You-Know-Who if I suddenly had no Dark Mark."

By this point Hermione's body was shaking with sobs. It was only then that he realised his own face was wet with tears that had been silently streaming down his cheeks for some time. His hands knotted deep in Hermione's curls like they were an anchor. He could feel how violently he was trembling. He leaned his head back to press against the wall behind him and tried to gulp back his tears. Numbly he felt Hermione wriggle around on the window seat until she was propped up on her knees looking at him. It was the first time their eyes had met since he had begun his story. Quivering fretfully, she reached out with one hand and ran her fingertips down his cheeks, brushing off his tears.

"Oh Draco…"

Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. Then she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his so that they could feel each other breathing in and out. Draco's whole body had been tense and on edge as he spoke. But now, with Hermione's fingers stroking over his jaw so tenderly and the scent of her skin washing over him, he felt himself start to calm. When she drew back, her nose was red and puffy from crying. Her bottom lip was quivering slightly and she sniffled.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she told him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and swimming with compassion. It was like a gentle rainfall trickling over his body after a long drought. Draco nodded dully.

"I just…I wanted you to know. What it was like for me there, I mean."

In response, Hermione slowly moved in and placed an achingly sweet kiss on his bottom lip. Her mouth was slightly salty from their combined tears. He almost felt like he wanted to smile at her, but his cheeks were stiff and uncooperative. Instead he just enveloped her in his arms and pulled her in close.

"Thank you for telling me," she murmured.

Draco shook his head and wrapped one of her long curls around his finger. He watched its silky weight bend into a coil and spring back.

"No, thank you. For believing in me. For giving me a chance. I don't deserve your forgiveness or your kindness, you know."

Hermione gave his shoulder a light bump as she relaxed against him.

"Yes you do. You're a better man than you realise."

A muscle twitched in Draco's jaw and he tightened his grip on her. He tried to grapple with the dual feelings of delight and self-hatred that filled him. There was nothing on this earth, he was sure, that could surpass the pleasure that Hermione's words brought him. Her faith in him was truly humbling. But competing with that was the overwhelming sense that he was unworthy of such mercy. She was most definitely too good for him.

"You have truly terrible taste in men," he commented at last when he felt capable of speaking. Hermione snorted softly. With a lazy flick of her wand she summoned a patchwork quilt from the end of the bed and settled it around them. Under the blanket, with Hermione nestled against him, Draco felt warm and safe.

"I think it's steadily improving-" she responded wryly and then they fell silent. Draco pressed his face against her neck and took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. They stung a bit from crying but he ignored that as he kissed her throat right over where her pulse thrummed. The last of the tension left his muscles as Hermione hummed and slid closer to him. Instead Draco felt a different kind of tightening in his navel. He ran his nose up and down her neck, leaving gentle kisses along her skin. He kept thinking of those three words on repeat. He had fallen asleep at night whispering them silently against her skin, but had been too afraid to say them out loud a second time for fear that she wouldn't be able to return them yet.

I love you.

Merlin help me, I love you so much Hermione…

Draco pushed the urge to vocalise it away, feeling instead the pure weight of the emotion wash over him. As his lips moved lower across her collarbone and the gentle swell of her chest, he focused on the all-consuming need to sink himself deep inside her. Draco felt like he had ripped himself open in front of her tonight, baring his soul more than he ever had before to anyone. And now he desperately needed to lose himself in her, surrounded by the balm of her kindness and enflamed by their shared heartbeats pressed together.

And with every kiss and every touch she gave him and he gave in return, another small fragment of his damaged and demented soul was pieced back together.

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Bang Bang Bang Bang…

Draco shot upright in bed, woken abruptly by the insistent hammering on the front door. It was pitch black and his brain struggled to free itself from the cobwebs of a deep sleep.

"Hermione? Draco?"

Hermione jumped up as well, sharing a stunned look with him as she scrambled for her clothes. He threw on his own as quickly as possible, his heart pounding in sudden fear.

"It's Andromeda," Hermione muttered unnecessarily. Maybe she was just trying to reassure herself that they weren't being attacked. But with only two secret keepers he already knew it was his aunt at their door. Her voice was recognizable too; it reminded him of his mother. Though now as she yelled their names it sounded more frantic than he'd ever heard before. The two of them raced downstairs together, flinging the door open to usher Andromeda inside and away from the cold, roaring winds of the valley. It must have been raining wherever she came from because her clothes were soaked through. Hermione jabbed her wand at the grate on the far side of the room and a charmed fire sprang to life, casting a flickering blue light over the room.

"Andromeda! What is it?"

The older woman pace back and forth with a sense of agitation, her eyes darting between them both. When she didn't speak Draco's anxiety intensified until he could hardly stand still. Eventually she froze and spun to face them, her eyes going straight to Hermione's.

"The Order received an urgent message about half an hour ago. One of Dumbledore's…friends… managed to see a glimpse of something in an old fragment of mirror-"

Hermione slapped her hands across her mouth.

"Harry? You're talking about Harry and Ron, aren't you?"

Andromeda nodded and watched with a pained expression as the curly haired girl moaned in fright and clutched at her face. Her fingernails dug into her cheeks as she went as white as a ghost.

"What happened? What do you know?" she demanded in a panicked voice. Draco watched in horror as his aunt delivered the news. The whole room seemed to go dark around them as the terrible words echoed across the space. And all he could see was Hermione's wide, horrified eyes blown open with pure shock.

"They were captured by snatchers. They've been taken to Malfoy manor."

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Oh my god that was such a mean cliff hanger! I apologize profusely. But the plot of Deathly Hallows was beckoning! Please review!