Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Era: Post-Hogwarts
Summary: Auror Hermione Granger is sent to New Orleans, Louisiana after Draco Malfoy disappears when collecting an inheritance. What should have been a standard missing wizard case turns into something far more sinister, and soon Hermione finds herself entangled in a dark web of secrets.
Rating: M
Warnings: Dark!Draco, Dark!Hermione, Sexual Themes, Gore/Violence, Harry x Hermione/ Ron x Hermione (endpoint is Dramione).
Disclaimer: This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended.
Author's Notes: There are adult themes up ahead. Nothing too explicit, but read at your own discretion. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.
February 25, 2003 3:17AM
"You're going to regret this in the morning, Granger," the whispering voice sent a shiver coursing through the young girl. The cold stone walls of Hogwarts served as a welcome contrast to her heated body. She closed her eyes as his fingers ghosted over her thighs. Her dress was bunched at her waist, arms clinging onto her counterpart's shoulders. Teeth sank down onto her lips as she stifled a moan at the feel of his fingers tracing patterns over her clothed folds.
"I don't care," she replied hoarsely.
The young man chuckled, his breath trickling over her neck before he nibbled on her earlobe. He cupped her sex, dragging his fingers until he pressed them onto her clit. Her knees buckled, fingers digging into his crumbled dress shirt. She sought his lips, moaning into their heated kiss as a lone finger dipped into her, not bothering to mention how mildly impressed she was when she felt him vanish her panties.
"Merlin," she groaned out, effectively breaking the kiss as her head pressed against the wall in a vain attempt to maintain her equilibrium.
In what seemed like an uncharacteristic manner to Hermione, her lover pumped his fingers into her gently, thumb brushing teasingly over her clit with every other stroke. She shivered as his lips sucked on the nape of her neck. Hermione's nails racked down his back, silently hoping he would leave a mark—wanting to see the results of his ministrations on her when she looked in the mirror. Needing to hear his own sounds of pleasure, her defty fingers dragged down to his crotch, cupping him over his trousers and giving him a gentle squeeze. He felt hard under her skin. She could feel the heat radiate from his need and picturing him inside her only served to ignite the desire deep within her belly further.
He grunted, biting down on her skin. "Little minx. You've got everyone fooled, haven't you? What would the Weasel think if he knew of our little meetings?"
Her eyes clenched shut as his pumps grew rougher, bringing her closer to a crescendo of passion she wanted to succumb to. "He's probably off in a broom closet with Lavender," she sighed out as she enjoyed her lover's tongue tracing the shell of her ear.
The young man pressed his fingers down onto her clit before continuing his assault on her neck. Hermione massaged his crotch, only to have him push her hand away before she heard him whisper out, "not tonight."
With a few final strokes, she cried out, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as her climax washed over her. Her dress clung to her sweat-glistened body almost uncomfortably, but she failed to care as she continued to ride out her waves of pleasure on his skilled hand. As the high of her release settled, body thoroughly satisfied, his fingers slipped out of her wet folds. Hermione felt his lips kiss her temple as his hands pulled down the hem of her dress, effectively hiding what she'd only ever revealed to the man before her.
"You'll hate me tomorrow," he whispered out.
Hermione's eyes opened to look into his. Her gaze was still glazed over with dwindling desire as she took in his disheveled appearance. She placed her palm on his cheek. The girl felt her stomach somersault when he made no move to push her touch away as he'd often done in their previous encounters. Perhaps it was the firewhisky she'd sipped before they found themselves in this position. Perhaps it was the notion that the impending danger would be upon them soon.
Whatever the reasoning, she didn't filter her words as she replied, "I could never."
Cinnamon eyes snapped open. The darkness that was still present in her room helped orient the witch as she regarded her surroundings with caution. Wand in hand, she cast a soft lumos, lighting up the vicinity. A thin layer of sweat clung to her skin. Her breathing calmed as she inhaled deeply, swinging her legs over the bed to sit up.
A shameful urge of debauchery coursed through her veins as her memory recapped the vivid dream. Her body pulsed, unable to shake the feel of the ministrations she received in the dream. Hermione was almost tempted to floo Harry but thought better of it. Best not add wood to the fire, she sighed. With another deep breath, she made her way into the bathroom. Shaky hands turned the faucet of her sink. She cupped them under the running water, splashing the cool liquid on her face soon after.
That wasn't a dream. That felt like a memory, she frowned.
Her eyes gazed into her reflection coming from the mirror above the sink. Dainty hands gripped the edges of the sink firmly. Hermione squinted at herself, replaying the dream before she forgot it come morning. She tried to remember who the man was but it felt like static. And just as before, her thoughts trailed to Ron.
But she knew without a single doubt in her foggy mind that it had not been Ron in the dream. Though sweet, Ron had never been that skilled during their explorations into the opposite sex. No—the person who had pushed her into pit of smoldering pleasure was someone else—someone who seemed to know her body far more intimately than Ron ever had. Her eyes grew wide then, head shaking in confusion as she looked away from the mirror. Walking back into the bedroom, she'd only then realized that the window was open. The violet curtains danced as the night's soft wind blew gently through them. In an instant she'd shut it with a loud thud. Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought the static in her head that seemed to be eclipsing whatever it was she was trying to remember.
Ron he—no, no that's not what I mean to think.
A heavy heart weighed down on her chest. She placed a palm over it, brows furrowed in confusion. Merlin, she felt as though someone had trapped her into some sort of twilight zone. A victim of spell-casting was out of the question. Hermione was the most proficient Auror when it came to casting protective spells in her mind. No witch, wizard or magical creature could alter anything without her realizing it.
With a tired yawn, she reasoned her thinking was due to the exhaustion and instead crawled back under her sheets, soon succumbing to a dreamless sleep.
February 25, 2003 5:45PM
A strained silence took hold of the women who sat before each other. Narcissa Malfoy watched the witch with great interest, seemingly bored eyes racking every detail of the young woman. The tension in the air was palpable, even more so knowing that her beloved son was now missing. Plagued with dreams of him through fever-stricken nights, when she would wake Narcissa found she desperately needed to contact Hermione Granger.
It was as though her son somehow placed the seed in her mind, enticing her to call the woman. And so she did, after two weeks of silence she'd decided to follow her instincts.
"I will be leaving tomorrow, Mrs. Malfoy. I think we've gone over everything necessary," the older of the two watched the fluid quill strokes of the Auror, jotting down every minuscule detail of their conversations.
The girl was very precise in everything she did, calculating down to how she placed her muggle pen to the side of the parchment. Narcissa wondered if it was a tick she'd acquired as a result of the war. Everyone who managed to live through the ghastly ordeal had some form of tick. Lucius Malfoy's had been drinking himself into a depression. When they'd taken all use of his magic he succumbed to a sadness Narcissa never fathomed one could fall into—especially a regal Malfoy. He'd become the thing he'd detested his entire life. Her husband only lasted a year before taking his own life, a decision that earned him an unmarked grave outside the family mausoleum.
Such an action was deemed despicable and cowardly in the Malfoy family.
Narcissa and her son hadn't even batted an eye. The loss of his life brought more comfort than despair. A longtime victim of his beatings, the elder witch could not pretend to even miss him. She had her son and that was enough for her.
But with this illness now taking hold of her anatomy, she found herself in a state of frenzy. The woman knew—could feel that her time in this world was almost up, and the thought of this did not scare her by any means. What scared her was Draco and how he would continue to live a life that was void of any love and affection.
A gleam caught the woman's attention as something small sparkled on Hermione's neck. Her tired eyes squinted for a moment only to grow wide. Quickly, she masked her features before clearing her throat. It brought forth the response she sought, taking a moment to still her racing thoughts as Hermione gazed at her quietly.
"That is a lovely necklace, darling. Where ever did you get it?"
Hermione blinked, fingers instantly rubbing against the silver chain before she pulled it out to reveal a green emerald encased in a silver nest dangling at the end. Any uncertainty Narcissa may have had upon seeing the jewelry quickly fizzled out of existence. Her throat tightened, fingers clenching the robes on her lap as she sat perfectly still. The beautiful necklace had been in her family for generations and she'd thought it had been lost during the last war when the Wizgenmont had seized the Malfoy fortune during their probation.
Clearly she'd been wrong, she silently noted as the woman watched it nestle beautifully between the young woman's clothed breasts.
Hermione frowned for a moment before resting her gaze onto Narcissa's face once more. Her thumb caressed the encased stone absentmindedly as she replied, "I don't remember, but it's rather comforting to have."
February 25, 2003 9:23PM
A groan penetrated the stone walls as the couple continued their rhythmic movements. Hermione pressed her head against the rough surface as her hips pressed up to meet her lover's thrusts. Her fingers gripped his firm shoulders, crying out softly when his teeth sank into her neck.
She'd always loved it when he left marks on her. It filled her with a smug knowing that she could make him lose himself.
"Fuck, you feel so good around me."
His words sparked a new surge of desire through her and she pulled his face towards her for a devouring kiss as he pressed into her with more roughness. She moaned against his lips. His tongue licked hers before biting down on the lower lip, earning another grunt from the woman. She wrapped her arms around his neck, ankles linking together just above his arse as he pushed inside her with full force.
"Come on Granger, I want to feel you come all over me."
His crude words grunted into her ear. She shivered at the feel of his cool breath and as she felt his finger press against her clit she moaned out, doing just as he'd wanted. He followed her into bliss soon after.
As their breathing grew less ragged, he placed Hermione down, holding her steady when he felt her knees buckle. She thanked him softly, cinnamon eyes resting on his opened shirt. Her fingers went to button it, each stroke careful, slowly moving higher until his hands wrapped around hers, ceasing her movements. She glanced up at him through her lashes, holding her breath.
"I have something for you."
Hermione could feel her heart hammer against her chest. She'd never heard his voice sound so soft before. It was filled with such care that she had to wonder if he was pulling the wool over her eyes. But she allowed him to take a step back from her and she used the new sense of clarity to tuck her shirt back into the folds of her skirt. She didn't bother to ask him for her knickers, knowing he seemed to enjoy collecting them.
She carefully watched him through the darkness, various sounds of the old school filling her ears as she began to chew on her lip. What could he possibly give her? Especially when this relationship of theirs confused her to no end. They were strangers outside of these classroom walls. And though she could ignore him throughout the day, Hermione was acutely aware that her heart always knew when he was around her.
Her lover pulled out a silver chain from his pocket, his eyes staring intently at the gem that swung with ease before the duo. It seemed to Hermione that he was on the cusp of saying something important before she heard him sigh. He took a step towards her and she couldn't fight the need to place her hands on his chest. His warmth instantly put her mind at ease. She could feel the cool touch of the necklace around her skin as he clasped it. A shiver ran through her as his fingers traced the chain, stopping between the valley of her breasts where the jewel was tucked.
"Thank you," she simply said, completely aware that her eyes spoke in volumes of what her voice couldn't conjure.
"Sleeping on the job again?"
Hermione's eyes snapped open, the haze of her candle's light riding the haze that came with being awoken in an abrupt state. She carefully sat up, rubbing her eyes as a tired yawn passed through her lips.
"What time is it?"
Harry chuckled, pushing himself off the door's threshold as he walked towards her. "Late enough that your presence in this office is obscene."
The woman looked around, eyes stopping at the array of notes that were neatly stacked on her desk. There was still so much to be done before heading off to The States. She wondered if Harry would watch Crookshanks while she was away. It wouldn't be long, she thought, hoping to find Malfoy soon. The woman had a feeling he wouldn't be hard to find and though this notion stemmed a curiosity within her, she took it as a sign of good faith.
Hermione let out an amused laugh before arching her back in an effort to stretch. She didn't fail to notice how Harry's eyes traveled to her breasts in the same moment.
Without another second to spare he was on her, pushing her back into the couch as his lips attacked her own, his fingers caressing the skin of her thigh before he pressed it against his hip. Hermione's own fingers ran through his tousled locks as she angled her hips so that her delicate folds met his firm need for her.
But as she kissed him she could not help but let her mind imagine the image of the lover in her dream. And when Harry stripped her and himself, she imagined the man in her dream pressing into her instead.
