A/N: This is practically two chapters. I probably should have posted it as two, but whatever. I hope you like this. Here's the deal, though, about my updating schedule for the next couple of weeks.
I have a summer program that starts on Sunday and runs two weeks, not giving me any time to write. Then, I go to Greece, where I may be able to write a little. After that, I have a writing institute to attend for two weeks, and when I return my family is moving to new state. Unfortunately, this means I may not be able to update for a quite a while. I'd like to ask for your patience - I promise that, when I update it, it'll be as long as these 14,900 words, maybe longer. More at the bottom. Please excuse any grammar or other mistakes! I have no beta, and I'm pretty bad at proof-reading.
THIS HAS A SEX SCENE. It shifts from explicit to focusing more on their reactions. I wrote "START" when it begins and it continues to the end of the chapter. If you don't want to read it, then you may skip it. There are also tidbits of a sexual dream Hermione had, but it only happens twice and isn't that explicit.
Thursday
10:01 AM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
Her meeting had been scheduled to start at 9:30 exactly.
It was thirty-one minutes past the allotted time, and she hadn't heard even a whisper from the man she was supposed to be meeting. Sure, being a world famous Spells Master was cause for a little leeway, but she hoped the man that invented the Disillusionment spell would be a little prompter. A brilliant mind, Gordon Chance was much like her, or so she fancied. He'd gone to Sparling's University - like her - and even fought in the First Dark War. She greatly admired him.
Too bad he couldn't show up on time.
"Maybe you should come back tomorrow," a voice said from the doorway. She looked up to see a mildly attractive man giving her a curious look. "Prof. Chance doesn't seem to be in."
She briefly contemplated what the man would be like as a boyfriend, before she dismissed the thought. Thanks to Malfoy, she would no longer have the opportunity to be in a loving, committed relationship. He'd probably lock him up in a room and feed her through a cat flap, only talking to her when he wanted sex. Well, he'd have another thing coming. She didn't think she'd do any of that bond consummating that he clearly expected; so what if he suffered "consequences"? Penance for his deeds during the war, she reckoned. Anyway, it was his problem, not hers. He was the one that pinned her against the wall and kissed her without her consent, instead of discussing the Veela situation like a rational person. Why, he'd made her spend four horrid hours researching when he could have easily said, "My ancestor was a Veela, I am too, and you are my mate."
"Thinking deep thoughts?" The man persisted. She noticed how his eyes traveled down her legs with desire. Her legs, long and toned and muscular from sweaty days on a bicycle, was her one pride. Her breasts were average sized, her hair was, well, her hair, and she wasn't exactly curvy. Her legs, though, looked as if they stretched for miles. She was very capable of showing them off in a classy fashion, as her skirt did today. Normally, she would smile brightly at him and answer politely, but today she only grunted at him.
"I'm just tired."
He had dark hair and pretty green eyes, which she could appreciate from a bystander's point of view. Not taking the hint, he sat next to her on another leather chair. Hermione had sat in many waiting rooms to be sure, but this one with its tastefully painted walls, comfortable seats and oak tables, was one of the best. "Tired, huh? Want some coffee? I'm Matthew Perelman, intern to Professor Chance."
"Intern?" She looked at him, impressed. She didn't know wizards did internships. Immediately, she began thinking: could she get an internship? Oh, it would be fascinating! "Impressive."
He winked at her, leaning back. "It's keyword for 'secretary.' I fetch coffee, clean up, dodge the paper balls he throws near the rubbish bin. Brilliant man, but hardly a sporty one."
"Are you Muggleborn?" It was rude, she knew, but the way he talked made her think he wasn't a pureblood for sure.
Matthew didn't look insulted, only sending her a small smile. "Half," he said promptly before making a face. "Is it that obvious? I've tried to tone down my Muggle-isms, as most of Professor Chance's clients don't appreciate it."
Hermione smiled at him in return. Oh, why couldn't she be a mate for someone like him? He was charming and intelligent and rather nice. Then again, he could be a closet sadist, smiling at you with his perfect teeth in an attempt to seduce you, take you home, tie you up in chains and have his way with you, again and again.
Where did that thought come from?
She knew she didn't think it. It had sounded like something Malfoy would say, complete with a leering sneer and sardonic eyebrow. Come to think of it...could Malfoy be invading her thoughts?
No, she thought - and it was her thinking this time. There's no way. Long-distance Legilimency is impossible.
"You know, you really zone out a lot."
She was opening her mouth to reply when, forty three minutes late, a Gordon Chance walked impatiently into the room. Dressed in dress robes, with thick glasses and a perpetually squinting look, he was the stereotypical 'nerd.' "Matthew, return to your duties," was his opening comment, barked in the manner of somebody used to getting his way. "Ms. Granger, come with me."
Startled, Hermione stood, smoothing her skirt with hesitation. Matthew winked again at her, mouthing 'Good Luck.'
'Thanks,' she mouthed back, sending him a shy smile before hurrying after one of the most brilliant minds in the Wizarding World. After Tuesday's scare and Wednesday's discovery, she needed to get her head back on straight and concentrate on her research firm. That was why she scheduled a meeting with Chance. Now, though, she was beginning to regret not waiting until her head was firmly on its shoulders, in the game, on straight and whatever clichés she could think of.
Leading her to a bright office not befitting his character, Chance sat down behind a stylish coffee table, not a desk, and offered her a seat on the other side. She perched on the edge of the chair but gave him a confident smile. Easy self-confidence, she knew, was the key. "Hello, Professor Chance," she greeted him. "How are you doing?"
To her surprise, he gave her a warm smile. "Wonderful," he said charmingly. "And you?"
Totally thrown, she tried to stay cool. "I'm so thankful you agreed to meet with me on a short notice," she said diplomatically. "It'll be such a help."
"About that - what, again, are we meeting about?" Once again, Gordon Chance displayed an uncanny ability to change personalities, this time from gracious host to absent-minded scientist. He scrabbled through a sheaf of paper on the coffee table. "You're looking for work, yes?"
"Not exactly," she began. "I intend to start my own research firm where I can work towards creating spells to integrate Muggle and Wizard cultures."
Chance peered at her with an air of abject astonishment. "Why on earth would you want to do that, girl? What do the Muggles have to offer us?"
Don't get mad, you need him. Again, the voice that wasn't her appeared in her head, but she didn't pay it too much heed. It was probably her subconscious. She had bigger things to worry about at the minute. "Professor Chance, have you used a cellphone lately?"
"Of course not," he said arrogantly. Maybe he has Multiple Personality Disorder?
"They allow people to communicate with each other from far distances, in public, without the use of Floos or the delay of owls...it only requires a purchase of the device and a small monthly fee. The spell that allows electricity to work in the presence of magic was my own invention, Professor."
Chance leaned back in his seat, exuding a dislikeable air. "Ms. Granger, let's be honest. There isn't a demand for your services. It's useless. Why are you even attempting? Filthy Muggles have no purpose integrating with Wizards, and their technologies don't either."
"Professor Chance!" Hermione stood, feeling completely let down. "I'm sorry, but we both fought in wars so that Muggles wouldn't be subjugated. I can't stand for this."
"Then sit down."
The infuriating man! "Please, I'm afraid I cannot continue this conversation. I'd like to be let out, sir."
Chance stood as well. "Sit down," he said commandingly. She sat quickly, afraid of the imposing man that had taken the place of the bigot. She held her wand in her purse tightly, ready to try to defend herself. "The good news is, you've passed my test."
"A shoddy test," she mumbled rebelliously. A test? What on Earth?
He smiled coolly at her. "It works rather well for me, though you are the first to threaten to leave. The bad news is, I cannot help you."
"Why not?" Hermione looked at him pleadingly. The greatest mind, and he couldn't help her make her own brain more intelligent?
"I am no business man. You may owl me for any questions related to spellwork, and we may even meet, but I'm afraid I can't waste my time meeting with you if you aren't going to succeed."
She had never felt so insulted. "Of course I'm going to succeed!"
He leaned in. "Then do it. Go out there, Ms. Granger, and get investments, get money, get employees, get a firm up and running, and then we can meet again. Until that day, goodbye."
Thursday
11:30 AM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
He was trying to work on his newest project - a park of all things, something he'd never attempted - when a shot of complete outrage ran through him.
"Damn," Draco sighed fervently, shaking his head as if to clear water from his ears. That had been intense. He wondered why, exactly, Granger was so pissed off about something...the Weasel had probably gone and said something particularly idiotic. He shook it off anyway and stood when his watch beeped softly: eleven thirty two. It was time to depart for Gringotts; he had an important meeting to discuss with them. He'd carefully reviewed everybody's purchases and come to the conclusion that either somebody was lying - he doubted that, nobody could successfully lie to Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy's faces - or he was facing a serious case of theft from outside his employees. The money-obsessed goblins would soon come to the bottom of that.
He examined himself in his desk drawer mirror, deciding he looked a little too frazzled to appear in public. Shit - seconds were ticking by. He didn't want to cast a glamour, as those had dreadful side affects if over utilised, and he didn't want scales growing on his nose. Instead, he just brushed his hair magically over his eyes, hoping to take attention away from the bags under them.
A second later, he released a gasp. As soon as he'd wished to remove the circles painted under his eyes, they'd gone immediately. Was he a metamorphmagus as well? Draco tried to change his hair to a garish brown with no success, but the minute he decided his lips were chapped they smoothed themselves out.
Hm.
He had the ability to make himself more attractive? Oh, definitely something he'd be using to great affect. No wonder his mother always looked stunningly gorgeous. Draco grabbed his jacket, slung it over one shoulder, and exited the office, his mind whirring. If he got mad - really, piss-roaring mad - would he turn into a great, ugly, scaly bird? He needed to test that out desperately. He'd been plenty angry lately, but never felt as if wings would sprout from his back.
"You're five minutes late to departing for our Gringotts meeting," Daphne greeted him by the lifts.
"Seven," he corrected, stepping neatly in front of her as the pair entered the gleaming box. "Eight, actually, if you round up the last couple of seconds."
Daphne smoothed her hair back as the doors slid shut. He eyed her carefully, and expelled a sound of disgust. On the surface, she looked the same: her hair was pulled back into a wavy ponytail, she was wearing a professional women's suit, shoes that lengthened her legs without screaming "shag me!" However, his eyes zoomed in on her fingernails, neatly painted a bright red.
Blaise loved a passionate red on his girls.
Draco was no innocent. Him and Blaise used to, fifth year, create outrageous bets and dares that usually involved one or more (usually more) women. One of the very first times, Draco had bet Blaise six galleons that the other boy wouldn't be able to get a specific Hufflepuff in sexy red lingerie. Blaise had come through with a newly-corrupted fifteen year old girl and a special love for the color. Draco was also quite aware that Daphne loathed the color, thinking it made girls look cheap and tart-like.
"What, Draco?" Daphne asked innocently, trying to look professional as the lift dinged and slid open on the lobby. They exited together, both smiling pleasantly for the sakes of appearances. Draco held open the glass door for his female friend and followed her down the street - they worked a block away from a Gringotts branch. Contrary to what most had thought through their school years, Gringotts had many locations all around Europe; there had even been one a mile away from Hogsmede that Draco had walked to multiple times.
"Nice nails."
Daphne glanced down, even though she'd probably known this would happen from the moment she'd gotten it applied. In fact, he would hazard a guess that cornering him by the lifts had been calculated. "Thank you; I think they look quite attractive."
"Trashy," he said conversationally, holding open the door to a local coffee shop. Yes, he was behind schedule, but the goblins would expect him to arrive with something to eat or drink. He made it routine without making it too obvious; he didn't want somebody impersonating him. "Cheap."
She flushed, aggresively glaring at the couple in front of them until they moved. "Really, Draco, don't be so judgemental."
"You're having a torrid affair with Blaise Zabini," Draco said coolly, before smiling disarmingly at the café attendant. "I would like your #2. Medium."
Daphne ordered her own coffee, and each put down a few sickles before receiving their drinks. "Draco, your mate is Granger."
"Here's the difference," Draco said, again leading his friend out of the store. "I have no choice."
"Oh, get over yourself, Draco," she sniffed. Her lips turned down slightly, and she sighed. He waited without judgement, knowing perfectly well she was close to tears.
He moved closer to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, just for a second, as light as a brush of air. It was too brief for the photographers to see, but he intended to offer comfort for her, one of his best friends. "Why?"
Daphne's lips turned up slightly, even as she stared straight ahead. The sound of their feet on the pavement were perfectly in line, step-step-step-step. "He makes me happy," she said simply. "I don't love him, Merlin no, but sometimes I want to have a passion fueled relationship that makes me feel like a queen, Draco."
He wanted to stop right there, turn to her, and tell her that she didn't need a sleaze bag like Zabini to make her feel like a queen. Hell, he could do that with ease. It's not the place to say, he told himself sternly, and instead gave her a sardonic smile that told nothing, revealed no inch of his displeasure. "Gino's, at five?"
"Six thirty," she confirmed. He flashed her a smile, her unwillingness to agree to him more amusing than insulting. She was free at five - that was why he suggested it - but Daphne's damn pride prevented her from just saying yes.
"Six forty-five."
"Bullshit."
"Let me have my moment," he said, his smile transitioning into the slight smirk he wore in public quite easily, as the pair entered the shiny marble doors of Gringotts Bank. Daphne, too, changed slightly; minuscule changes to be sure, but any self-respecting pureblood would evaluate her slightly raised head, the challenging glint in her eyes, and decide that both Slytherins meant business.
As soon as they entered, they were accosted by a painfully smiling goblin who did not look as if he (she?) wanted to help them at all. In fact, Draco had long since harboured a suspicion that each goblin, instead of spending their time 'assisting' customers, would devise many methods to dispose of said customer and profit from it. He could respect that - slightly - but the tiny creatures still gave him the shivers, especially since he was certain they bore a grudge or one hundred for what his family had done to Griphook. It was okay, though; he'd been working on getting the Gringotts Goblins to respect him, if only so they could help him in situations such as today's.
"May I help you?" This particular goblin said, bowing with an insolent air.
"Yes," Draco said snappishly. "You can start by ceasing to bow; neither my companion nor I derive any pleasure from the sight of you prostrating yourself to a wizard and a witch." In truth, he quite liked the idea of all creatures bowing to him as he walked by - well, he entertained it in his head on occasion - but there was something about goblins acting subservient that rankled him.
The goblin rose slowly, eyeing Daphne and Draco with the utmost suspicion. "Yes, sir," he said, finally straightening. "May I inquire to your business here?"
Draco saw Daphne opening her mouth to answer and hurried his response to beat her. "There have been discrepancies in my company's budget."
The goblin gave a snarl that was frightening, nearly startling Draco to take a step back. He stood firm, however, as the goblin curled his claws into fists. "Right this way, sir."
Daphne hurried to follow, but Draco walked at a more leisurely pace. He surveyed the interactions between goblins and humans, snorting at the way the rich preened at the bows. Ridiculous. House-elves, sure, they had their place. He could survive without them, though it was a horrid thought. Without the allegiance of goblins, however, the entire Wizarding world and its economy would topple, and fast, maybe never to recover. In a purely business sense of view, Draco knew that the Ministry especially had to start treating goblins a sight better before they revolted.
"Draco!" Daphne hissed from in front, raising her chin slightly as if to say, 'Come on, hurry up, you fat piece of lard.'
Well, maybe not to that extent, but he wasn't in the most charitable mood and so he scowled at his friend. He sauntered just a bit faster, smirking to himself at her infuriated look, before he let his gaze slide in pure astonishment to something invisible on the left side. Daphne immediately turned, hand going to her wand, and in her distraction failed to notice her friend slipping past her and walking right next to the goblin.
Five, four, three...two, one, Draco counted off neatly, pinning the exact moment when Daphne whipped around to find that she was indeed lagging. "Hurry," he called, his voice mocking. "Or you'll be left behind, Greengrass."
"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Daphne huffed, quickening her steps to join him. "That was dreadfully immature."
"You fell for it, didn't you?"
She turned her nose to the front and did not answer. He smiled to himself in triumph and the pair followed in silence until they were led to an office. "Here we are, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Greengrass," the goblin said, without the customary tinge of disgust. "The manager of your account's office, Mr. Malfoy." He began to bow, but a cough from Draco stopped him.
"Thank you," he said. All for business, be polite. The goblin muttered something and quickly fled, and Daphne knocked on the door three times.
"That was awfully out of character for you, Draco," she commented.
"If you think that, you don't know me very well."
She raised an eyebrow as the door swung open, and an unusually tall goblin peered out. Magnook. "Who is it?"
Draco tried to look innocent, and innocuous, and attempted a smile. It didn't exactly work. "Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass." Since he'd managed to get the other goblin fired up minutes before, he repeated his earlier problem: "There have been discrepancies in Sleeping Dragon's budget for 'business and pleasure,' and we are unsure as to where the money has gone."
"Come in, come in," Magnook said, bad-tempered. Draco gave a 'this will take a while' look to Daphne, who shot him a faint smile of agreement in reply. Magnook, however, misinterpreted it. "Sorry, sir, that I forgot to bow," he said ungraciously and bowed.
"Wait - " Draco shook his head. "No. My companion and I don't believe in goblins - "
"Acting subservient," Daphne chimed in. "It's a horrid case of affairs here in the Wizarding world."
Magnook gave them a stern look. "Five years I've been working with you, Mr. Malfoy, and not once have you protested."
Draco stared down the creature. "Are you protesting my recent change in views, Magnook? If so, I can easily find another goblin with different inclinations to help me." Shit. That sentence was hardly understandable. Was 'inclinations' the right word to use? Shit!
Daphne hid a smile, obviously noticing his awkward wording, but the goblin made no indication he'd realized Draco's mistake. "I would never protest such a change, Mr. Malfoy," Magnook said diplomatically. "If it is given sincerely."
The two faced off. Draco assessed what he could of the goblin; Magnook was impressed, it was obvious. He gave the tiniest smile and said, "The only person who can determine the sincerity behind my words is you. Shall we look at the financial reports from the last fiscal year?"
Thursday
12:10 PM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
Unaware that she was smiling quite the wicked smile, Hermione took notes with great pleasure, her lips curved as she pictured exactly how to torment the Veela she was paired with.
Mates weren't powerless, as she'd thought. In fact, Hermione was pleased to discover that there were quite a lot of things she could do to Malfoy within the confines of her head, even more once they'd bonded for real. She was still iffy on the topic of consummating - as in, having sex with - Draco Malfoy. She hadn't yet discovered what would happen if she did not sleep with him before 12:00 AM on Tuesday, but it couldn't be that bad if the mate (enter her) wasn't affected in the slightest.
Back to her tormenting Malfoy.
The easiest method to try, she'd decided, was to send him dreams. To what she could figure, this particular 'power' was intended so that mates could affect their Veelas to such an extent that, upon their next meeting, the Veela would jump on the mate and shag him to his heart's content. She did not intend on sending Malfoy any racy dreams, heaven no, but she could just imagine all the guilt she could install, the horror, the desire to beg forgiveness at her feet. It would be fantastic.
If that failed, there was always the handy emotion-influencing. Hermione thought this was particularly fascinating, and longed to try it. Apparently, it worked both ways, but her sadness or hurt (or desire, she was disgusted to note) would affect Malfoy tenfold. There were others - if she had strong enough Occlumency skills, she could even speak to him mentally - and such, but these two were practically the only things she could accomplish without sleeping with him.
Tonight, she decided, she'd stay up a little later and follow the instructions to send him a dream. She was thinking, maybe a ghost form of her could float into his dreams and relay all of the hurt, fear, anger and sadness he'd caused. If that didn't have him showing up at her doorstop bearing gifts and candy, well, she had a backup plan.
"Hermione Granger, you are looking devious," said a slightly-accented voice. She turned to see Padma standing at her library table, giving her a very strange look. "Does this have to do with the reason you've been avoiding me for a couple of days? We have a lunch date today, you know."
"I have not been avoiding you," Hermione said hastily, shutting the books and pocketing her notes before Padma could discover what she was researching. Hermione was planning to reveal her secret today, but a scene in the library would not help matters.
Padma helped her with the spell to return the books to their proper place, even though both of them could preform it in their sleep. "Oh, Mione, don't pull that on me. The last time we talked was when I rescued you from that dreadful park."
"It's such a nice park," was her only response as she allowed Padma to pull her outside. Hermione blinked rapidly at the sudden sunlight, not expecting that after the cool confines of the library. "I don't understand your hatred of it."
Padma rolled her eyes. "Whatever. The Weaselette has decided to crash our lunch, just by the way."
Even though she was kidding, hearing Padma say that reminded Hermione entirely too much of the one person she was trying to forget. Oh, why did it have to be Malfoy? Why not Ron? Okay, well, she didn't exactly want to ever go near a romantic relationship with Ron ever again in her lifetime, but they were best friends. They understood each other. They might - shudder - even make an averagely fine couple. Whereas her and Malfoy was absurd! They'd kill each other within days!
What happens to a mate if her Veela is killed? Hermione mused over this, biting her lip. Not that she'd kill Malfoy, but it was worth considering. She prayed there weren't any archaic rules that stated she couldn't give him a good hex or seventeen now and then. "Don't call Ginny the Weaselette," she replied absently, a few beats late.
Padma obviously noticed her distraction but didn't comment on it, instead holding open the door to the little café she'd chosen for this Thursday. Hermione quickly spotted Ginny in a table for three and gave a small wave, pointing to the redhead when a waiter approached them.
"We're with her," Padma said, unveiled disgust in her voice. Hermione rolled her eyes; she wasn't even sure if the two hated each other anymore, and their constant grating was getting on her nerves.
"Behave," she hissed at the Indian girl before sliding in next to Ginny. "Hey, nice to see you here!"
Ginny smiled widely and flipped her hair to one side. She offered her cheek up and Hermione kissed it awkwardly, having never gotten used to this "family tradition." The Weasley boys exchanged affectionate gestures with each other like they were nothing, and she'd never seen one of them greet Ginny without the cheek kiss, but in all honesty, she hated it. "Hey, girl!" Ginny said cheerily. "It's excellent to see you crawling out from under your rock."
"Very funny, Ginny, did you come up with that yourself or did Harry help you?" Padma said sweetly.
Once again, she rolled her eyes. Hermione knew the routine by now: the two would argue for about five minutes, before giving each other an evaluating look and forgetting their animosity in favor of enjoying lunch and weaseling, no pun intended, information out of Hermione. It was easiest just to sit back and watch.
Ginny's smile didn't falter. "Oh, Harry might have helped, but I really can't remember - we were busy after that, if you catch my drift. Not that you would know, actually. How long has it been?"
Padma's eyes narrowed. "Just because I don't sleep with everyone that throws themselves at me doesn't mean I'm completely celibate. Tell me, Ginny, does Harry know exactly how many men he was to compete with?"
"I am no common slag, not like somebody related to you," Ginny sniffed disdainfully. Hermione winced. It seemed like disappearing for a few days, and removing the buffer between them, had resulted in quite a lot of pent up anger. Bringing up Parvati was a low blow. "And I would never cheat on my Harry or my James."
The curious emphasis on my made Hermione's brow furrow. Was she implying that Padma would ever be interested in Harry? Padma sniffed in response. "How is Jimmy, by the way? Upset because Auntie Pads hasn't come over for a bit?"
She winced again. Padma knew perfectly well that James' love of Padma - and his nickname - rankled Ginny to no extent. Not feeling up to another few minutes of this, Hermione interrupted, "It's been five years, you two, and you still pretend to hate each other?"
Ginny glanced over at Padma, who gave a small shrug back. "I don't hate Padma," Ginny said, her lips twitching, "But I need somebody to insult, don't I?"
"Helps me release stress," chimed in Padma right on time. "And I believe we are gathered here today - "
" - This sounds like a wedding - " Hermione started.
" - Or a funeral - " Ginny had to insert.
" - Shut up, guys. We are gathered here today to talk about you, Hermione, not us."
Shit. "What about me?"
Padma gave her a stern glare. "Something's up. What is it?"
"Why have you changed your wards? I had boils for hours, you prat, until George took them off."
Maybe she'd gone a little overboard after Malfoy had appeared in her bathroom and snogged her against a wall, but it was well within her rights to be cautious! "I have...news," said Hermione cautiously, knowing how rare of an event that was.
"News?" Padma gasped overenthusiastically, grabbing a scone from Ginny's plate and eating it. "What?" She spoke around a full mouth.
"You slept with Anthony!"
She flushed scarlet as people shot them wary looks. "Ginny! Shut up! I did not sleep with Anthony, we aren't even together."
"You don't have to be 'with' someone to do stuff with them," said Ginny, obviously finding herself quite witty.
Padma elbowed her. "I still can't believe you have news, Mi."
"Is it a crime to be a private person? Really, you two."
"Out with it!"
"Spill!"
"Let the cat out of the bag!"
"Come clean!"
"Come dirty!"
Hermione passed a hand over her eyes. "Draco Malfoy kissed me," she said conversationally. "He's a Veela, the first male one since, well, ever, and I'm his mate."
Ginny carried on laughing, but Padma stopped abruptly. "What the bloody hell?"
That wasn't exactly how I'd planned to tell them. In truth, she'd mapped out their every question and formulated a response, had her entire script down and memorized, spent hours planning exactly which word to use - something she'd learned how to do when she had (briefly) wanted to be a lawyer. However, she'd blown the whole thing with her deadpan delivery. "It's true," she said, wanting to get back on track with her speech. "I found out Tuesday. Well, Wednesday, but he kissed me on Tuesday." Merlin, this was hard. Stay in the speech.
Ginny stopped laughing. "Well, damn, Hermione, this is a right bit of news to keep from us since Tuesday. The hell?"
No, she was getting upset...Ginny wasn't supposed to get upset! She was supposed to focus on the kiss! Dammit! "I didn't know what to do," she mumbled, "I planned to tell you today."
Padma was still staring at Hermione with a look akin to horror. "Draco Malfoy? How could you fall in love with Malfoy?"
"Padma, snap out of it," said Hermione with a hint of anger. Of all people, Padma should know better than to forget everything she'd learned about Veelas. "Do you think I have a bloody choice? I'm a mate, I didn't ask for it. My sole purpose in life was to be born to be Draco Malfoy's mate!"
The darker girl flushed and nodded her head. "You're right, sorry, Mi. I was just shocked - I mean, look what he did to Parvati! He seduced her, and she fell in love with him, and then he screwed her over and left her standing with a broken heart. He isn't safe. Stay away."
"I can't stay away, though," Hermione admitted softly. "I kissed him back! He appeared in my bathroom randomly and I felt like I'd be, well, pulled towards him. I wanted to jump him so badly!"
"Did you?"
"Ginny! Of course not." Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Even now, I can feel him. He's working, I think, and is trying to control his anger."
Ginny shook her head emphatically. "That is so damn creepy, Mione."
Padma, she was glad to see, had snapped out of her earlier shock and was beginning to think. "Research," she announced. "We need to know more. What have you figured out so far, Mione?"
"Here are my notes..." As she passed them to Padma, with Ginny leaning over for a peek, Hermione allowed herself to believe that a solution would be found, and soon.
She needed one.
Thursday
11:48 PM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
He was asleep, but not quite - in that hazy state of almost-there drowsiness, arm thrown to one side, face cradled by a sweet smelling pillow, not quite aware of anything.
It was then the dream hit him.
Granger was standing in front of him, somewhere he couldn't identify. The location shifted, blurred, changed with each of his inhales and exhales: a leafy forest, a drafty castle, the Black Lake, a serenely happy field. They slurred together until all he could extract was a feeling, something he associated with each location, anger, happiness, sadness and fear.
Granger was looking at him softly, almost regretfully, and when she spoke, it echoed around him, wrapped him in, and in his clouded state he didn't realize he wasn't entirely sleeping. "Why'd you do it, Malfoy? You ruined my life."
Did not, he thought hazily.
"You did," she replied, as if she could read his mind. "You insulted me for seven years, called me a Mudblood and slammed my self-esteem! My whole life was ruined because of you."
What in Merlin's name? Draco blinked sleepily, finally awakening. As soon as he was fully aware, his mind immediately started categorizing what happened. Fact: Hermione Granger, or a form of her, was in my bedroom. Fact: It wasn't a dream...or if it was, it wasn't a natural dream.
Well, duh. He wasn't stupid. Draco knew exactly what happened the moment he processed it. Granger had tried to make him feel something - remorse, maybe? - using the Veela bond. "What an amateur effort," he mumbled to himself. "I could do better."
Why don't you?
Could he send her a dream? His smile turned wicked, thoughts immediately turning to the obvious. He wasn't normally so perverse, but with only three full days left to seduce Hermione Granger, he was in a constant state of lust. He'd expected her to seek him out, but she'd been strangely silent. He would just have to...prompt things along.
He closed his eyes in concentration, zooming in on Granger. She was getting ready for bed, he sensed, with irritation all over her that her plan didn't work. He also sensed a strange determination, a willingness to try again tomorrow. Which was completely unacceptable.
He waited for nearly half an hour like that, breathing calmly, trying to send sleepy thoughts her way. Finally - finally - at about midnight, she fell asleep and he smiled craftily.
Where to begin?
He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to send her, but he did know one thing: Granger needed to be taken down a peg or sixteen. He could just picture her strutting around, waiting until the very last minute to have sex with him, driving him to near insanity. In fact, Draco decided, frowning, why should I depend on her for my sanity? She should be jumping all over herself for the moment to sleep with me.
A plan started running around in his mind. Could he do it? Could he drive Granger so damn insane that she would beg him to consummate the bond? He could send her a dream or two, and bump into her randomly, make her jealous with Daphne and try to seduce her...
Yes.
Friday
1:01 PM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
"Hermione? Mione, are you even listening to me?"
She looked up innocently from the table and smiled at the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. "Harry, I always listen."
Harry rolled his eyes before wincing. He blinked excessively a few times before meeting her inquiring glare sheepishly. Avoiding the obvious silent question, he simply said, "I know that, but you seem distracted, Mione."
Briefly, she contemplated when, exactly, it became official that she was no longer named Hermione, and was instead only Mi or Mione or, shudder, Herms. She brushed that thought away and pinned Harry under a stern glare. "What's wrong with your eyes?"
A long sigh, "These bloody contacts irritate the hell out of me, Mi. I blame you."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond when a flash of a memory ran through her head, too quickly for her to concentrate more than a few seconds on it: his mouth, trailing down her feverish skin, licking and sucking, making her shiver. "I blame you for this," he mumbled, kissing down her neck, tongue flicking out to taste her. "God, it's all your fault."
She blushed.
The worst part was, she couldn't even ask where that thought had come from. She knew exactly where she'd seen that image before, but she didn't know why her mind had betrayed her by sending the most inappropriate dream she'd ever had.
Harry looked at her oddly. "Okay, I don't blame you?"
"What?"
Now, his interest was really piqued. Harry leaned forward and gave her an infuriatingly inquisitive look. "Okay, Mione, spill. What has you thrown?"
Oh, last night I had a sex dream about the Veela I'm mated to. "...nothing."
"The hell, Mi," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. They were sitting in his sun-warmed kitchen, eating a light lunch while waiting for Ginny to return with James from the his doctors appointment. They'd told Harry they were going shopping, but she knew perfectly well that Ginny wanted to grill her about Malfoy. "I know something is up."
You'll have to tell him eventually. Why not now, when Ginny can come in and do damage control? "I'm just a little distracted right now."
"I can tell." Her oldest friend reached over, taking her hand in his. "What is it? Are you in trouble?"
Tell him, you coward! "It's ASAP," she said, hating herself for lying to him. "It isn't going anywhere. I'm beginning to think I should just get a job at the Ministry and save until I can afford to start it up."
"I have money," he said hastily, his words tripping over each other. He rubbed her hand with his thumb reassuringly in a move that, while undeniably platonic, made her glance towards the fireplace to check for Ginny. "I'd give it to you any day, Mi." Then he let go, and his grin flashed, and they were back to being Hermione and Harry, best friends. He held up his right hand and said, "Siblings, huh?"
"Siblings," she agreed, and couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.
Friday
1:05 PM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
He hadn't exactly intended to watch her; all he'd done was close his eyes in a moment of exhaustion, think of her just briefly, and an image swam into his mind of Harry Fucking Potter holding her hand, caressing it, murmuring to her, like they were a damn couple or something. He'd kept his eyes closed and watched Pothead pull away and raise his hand, like he was taking an oath or something, and flash a mark on his wrist that made Draco sit up and break the connection.
Oh no he didn't...
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. His mate, his one-and-only blah blah blah, the only woman he'd ever get to sleep with the rest of his life without throwing up afterwards, his mate, was blood bonded to the man he loathed?
The Gods hate me.
How on Earth did she manage to get a blood bond with Harry Potter? Mates were allowed to do that? Potter has happily married with a son! Was he cheating on Weaselette with Granger?
It wasn't jealousy, as many would think, that drove him to have a mini-tantrum in the middle of his office. No, he wasn't jealous of Potter for being bonded to his mate, for nothing could trump the bond he, Draco Malfoy, had. In fact, he'd rather Granger be bonded to Potter than be bonded to him.
Still, there was something he couldn't identify, something that made him inexplicably upset at the thought that Potter was bonded to Granger. He didn't care about her, hardly knew her, didn't even think she was all that attractive. She was a bloody fantastic kisser, sure, but that barely counted for anything. Still, she had no right to disregard her Veela - him, for fuck's sake - and make goo-goo eyes with the man she bonded with!
Draco breathed heavily, glaring at the wall opposite him. Oh, he'd show her. He had been planning to bump with her at three thirty, after his 2:00 meeting, but he could squeeze in an encounter before 2, huh? He had - he checked his watch - 49 minutes until he had to be in his office. Plenty of time to remind Granger whom she had to spend the rest of her life with.
She doesn't really have to spend her life with you, remember? A nasty voice reminded him. She could walk away, no questions asked, and suffer a mediocre marriage the rest of the life, while you'll be driven insane!
He was practically incoherent with rage. He closed his eyes and pictured her again, and the image fuzzed into his head, flickering, like a ratty moving picture. She was no longer with Potter, instead laughing over something with the woman he was pretty sure she was betraying, if only because Granger was probably sleeping with Potter.
They were walking into a store somewhere, a little Muggle café. Draco pulled a pad of paper out from his desk and scribbled:
D and T -
I'm taking care of something urgent concerning G. Will return before my two o'clock.
- D
He charmed it so that only Daphne and Theo could read it, though he had been very vague as a precaution, Disillusioned himself, and disapparated with a crack.
He appeared on the sidewalk, and had to leap out of the way as someone on a - something with wheels - came straight towards him. He looked at the contraption curiously. It wasn't an automobile, which he knew the name of, but had two wheels and a seat...
Focus.
He breathed deeply, ducked behind the building, and removed the charm. Then, he spent a second or two rearranging his face to a slightly arrogant smile, and sauntered out. Pretending he didn't see Granger and Weasley huddled, whispering, in the corner, he entered and walked straight up to the counter as if he'd done this all his life.
They're only Muggles.
"I'd like a coffee," he ordered, winking at the young girl who was prepared to take his order. She blushed and giggled, and asked him which kind - to which he ordered dark roast because he rather liked the sound of that - and received a steaming cup with only a slight bit of apprehension.
The entry: check.
He turned to exit the little shop when he pretended to be struck by something in the reflective surface of the glass door. As he'd thought, Weasley and Granger were sneaking glances at him. Well, Granger was peeking at him, blushing, while Weasley stared in outright curiosity. No subtlety, that one. '
He pretended to dismiss it and began to walk out, when a muffled noise stopped him. He'd guessed that Weasley would be incapable of letting him leave without saying anything, and Granger must have clapped a hand over her mouth. He turned and fixed his eyes on their table, and began to lazily make his way over.
The approach: check.
Draco stood in front of their table, wearing his most attractive smirk. "Hello, Weasley," he said, but his eyes never left Granger. "Hello...Granger." Even though she looked angry, he felt her desire awaken as clearly as if he'd felt it himself. Merlin, this would be harder than expected. He felt the pull, the lust and the sexual desire, and it was almost too strong to resist. He wanted to yank her up, turn her around, and kiss those delicious lips of hers.
Get a fucking hold of yourself, Draco!
"Malfoy."
His lips turned up slightly in the corner at the hostile tone in her voice. "I hate to interrupt such a cozy lunch date, really, I do - "
Granger jutted her chin out and interrupted him, "Then leave, Malfoy."
He raised his eyebrow, still watching her intently. "Oh, you don't want me to do that," he baited, knowing exactly that he was repeating a line from her dream (with a little variations, he mustn't be too obvious). "You really want me to...leave?"
On cue, her face flamed red.
Friday
1:18 PM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
As much as she hated to admit it, he looked right sexy walking casually towards them, confidence emulating from every one of his movements.
"Merlin, he's hot," breathed Ginny from her side. "At least you're bonded to someone attractive, yes?"
"He's coming over," she whispered fearfully. "What do I say?"
Ginny only had time to mutter, "Take your cue from him," before Malfoy arrived at their table.
His eyes raked over Ginny dismissively before fixing on her. She felt a flutter in her stomach as he looked at her so intently, like he was remembering their fiery kiss, and suddenly she felt a pang of complete, utterly inappropriate, sexual attraction that held a tinge of him on it.
Was she feeling his emotions?
God, if she hadn't already known it was the Veela bond talking, she might have been affected by his want for her. As it was, it made her feel a little weak.
"Granger," he greeted her, that stupid look on his face revealing that he knew exactly what he was doing for.
"Malfoy," she said angrily. He was trying to toy with her! Use the bond against her!
"I hate to interrupt such a cozy lunch date," he began, derision dripping from every word. "Really, I do."
Before he could finish the undoubtedly insulting sentence, she told him plainly to get the hell out of there. Well, she didn't say it like that, but she tried to imply that with ever fiber of her being through the accursed bond.
"Oh, you don't want me to do that," he said, and like earlier with Harry, a figment of her dream appeared in her mind, so vivid and inappropriate that she fought to contain it.
"Stop," she breathed, pushing with futile resistance at his chest, while he pressed her against the wall. "Let me go."
"You can't fool me, Granger," he said huskily before capturing her lips in a punishing kiss. "You don't want me to do that at all."
"Let go of me," she mumbled, hating how her resistance fell with every kiss, every move of his sinful lips.
He gathered her wrists loosely in one hand, and used the other hand to lift up her chin. He placed his mouth next to her ear and breathed, "Tell me, right now...do you really want me to - " He kissed her. " - leave?"
She missed whatever he said next, but Ginny caught it and spoke up. "Yes, we want you to leave," she said loyally, even though minutes before she'd been telling Hermione how much she wanted to ask him about the "whole Veela thingy."
"I need to talk to Granger," he said, all humorous traces gone. "It's important. Leave, Weaselette."
"What could be so damned important?" Ginny said before Hermione could stop her, for the latter thought she knew exactly what Malfoy wanted to talk to her about.
Friday
1:34 PM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
"Oh, she hasn't told you, then?" Draco said, raising his eyebrows.
"Told me what?"
"Yeah, Malfoy. What am I supposed to have told her?"
He grinned, flashing his canines like an animal. "Oh, Granger, Granger, Granger," he said softly, shaking his head. "Don't pretend to be innocent."
He turned to the Weasel. "If Miss Innocent over there doesn't sleep with me - just once! - "
Granger had fear in her eyes, as well as a strange determination that he sort of admired. "I don't have to do anything, Malfoy."
He continued without pause, "If she doesn't sleep with me by the end of Monday night, I'll turn into - " he shuddered visibly for affect, " - someone scarily similar to my aunt Bella. You remember her, don't you?"
Granger's head shot up like a flash, and only then did he remember that Bellatrix had tortured her in his old drawing room, before he'd left the Manor. What surprised him, however, was the pure shock in her expression. Did she genuinely not know that? He'd thought she was the Research Queen, and would have definitely concluded that the consequences would be dire.
"You're telling me," began Weasley, "That Bellatrix Lestrange was insane because she was a Veela? What are you on?"
He looked mournful, and was only half-faking his agony when he replied, "She was a Veela, but didn't marry him because her father ordered her not to. She didn't know of the consequence, and was driven insane, mad for blood, trying desperately to avenge the loss of her one mate, for the rest of her life."
As he'd hoped, Weasley turned to Granger with pure, unadulterated shock - and a tinge of disgust. "Merlin, Hermione, just sleep with the damn man!"
Just to drive in deeper, and because he could, Draco arranged his face so that it looked like he was desperately trying to look nonchalant, but failing, and spoke. "I might even die."
"Hermione Granger!"
Oh, Granger. He remembered her in school, how she had such an annoyingly expressive face. Her thoughts danced across it, and he'd watch her at breakfast as she spoke with Potter and Weasley. He knew she liked Weasley before she did. He saw her swallow irritation at Potter day after day; he picked up on it when was keeping secrets from them, and could always tell when she'd had a bad night. Though her friends were oblivious, her forehead would crease, she'd bite her lip, she'd conceal a smile, wrinkle her nose, tilt her head to one side...she might as well have hung a sign around her neck reading, "I am feeling _." It was obvious what she was thinking, and he had hated that. Had she no subtlety? Did she have any sense of secrecy?
Now, though, he saw wrinkles appear on her forehead as the corners of her lips pulled down while her bottom lip pushed forward slightly. Her chin was lifted just a tad, and her eyebrows were drawn together. Even without the emotions radiating from her through the bond he could tell: she was irritated at him for telling, mad at herself for not realizing the consequences, and absolutely nonplussed at his news.
Like a goddammed book.
He checked his watch. Seventeen minutes until his meeting. He glanced at her, decided his business was done, and - with a salute - walked away. If that didn't make her show up at his door, he didn't know what would.
Saturday
12:01 AM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
He was lying.
She had gone over all the possible explanations in her head, and rapidly deduced that Malfoy was sinking to the lowest of the low: he was lying, playing on Ginny's sympathies, and almost dishonoring all Bellatrix's victims by saying it wasn't her fault she went mad and killed thousands, it was her mate. He'd looked at her mournfully then, as if to imply that she was a terrible person if she didn't jump into the sack with him, and he was doing it all for a quick lay! Okay, so there would be "consequences" if she didn't immediately sleep with him.
If, for reasons out of her control, the Veela's mate is unable to consummate the bond by the next new moon, the Veela will suffer untold consequences. However, a ritual, paired with a sexual act, may be sufficient to rescue the Veela from her fate.
She'd read it, handwritten in a journal of a Veela herself. At least, that was what the bookstore lady had said. It was proof. So she didn't have to sleep with him immediately. She would have sex with him eventually, she'd decided, if only because her sensitive side didn't allow her to let him suffer forever. Just enough so that he regretted every mean thing he'd said to her. It wasn't really a big deal.
It was all cool, then. No need to worry. She would have sex with him, after she knew a little bit about him. Hell, she didn't even know his middle name. There was absolutely no way she'd sleep with a man without knowing his middle name, and whether he preferred ketchup on his french toast as a savory meal or maple syrup in a sickly sweet combination.
He had been extremely obvious, anyway, Hermione decided. She knew a thing or two about Draco Malfoy, having lived for seven years in close quarters with him, and she'd never known him to show emotions unless it suited him past third year. When he was eleven and twelve he couldn't hide his feelings, but she'd noticed a change at the beginning of third year when the thirteen year old Malfoy's face was always smooth and impassive.
He was purposefully acting hurt and mourning and sad. It was acting, plain and simple, and she would not stand for it.
She, Hermione Granger, was better than that. Deserved better than that.
Sunday
4:14 AM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
"Shit, shit, shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck!" He managed through trembling lips. He felt feverish, hot, looking through the world with blurry lenses. His body was tense and thrumming, and he couldn't calm his heartbeat if he tried. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her in the dream he'd created, her back against the wall, her pretty mouth opening expressively. He saw her throw her head back and moan, he saw her rake her fingers down his back, he saw her press herself into him an attempt to get more. He heard her say his last name in a voice saturated by lust, all "Oh, Malfoy, I need it, I need it now, oh, please."
Whenever he saw her like this, he felt a pain run through himself. The bond was no longer working properly, he thought; he felt her in bits and pieces. Sometimes, he would have an image, so vivid and stark it threw him, and sometimes he'd only hear fuzzy words trailing their way through his ears.
He needed her. He wanted her. Even drinking didn't give him a buzz. Theo had sat with him patiently while he ranted and raved and threw things against the wall and ate disgusting combinations of aphrodisiac foods like avocados with basil, almonds and bananas, chocolate-topped oysters, things that made him throw up, but he kept ordering more from Tipsy, more, more, more, until he was stuffed full of carrots and figs and coffee and fennel and garlic and pineapples and various other disgusting foods.
Theo thought he was slightly insane, Draco knew, but he also knew that Theodore Nott wouldn't pass judgement vocally when his friend was torn up like this. Once, some time on Friday, Draco had asked him why the hell he was still there, sitting on the couch, drinking an ice water and watching with faint amusement mixed with concern.
"You think I'd leave you alone in this mood?" Theo had responded, the ice in his glass clinking. "You're liable to offing yourself, and mate, I do not want to deal with that bad publicity."
This had made Draco laugh. That sentence was just like Theo, Theo who was uncomfortable with displays of overt emotion, Theo who always had a joke or insult on the tip of his tongue to lighten the mood, Theo who never tried to fool Draco. Theo.
Where was Daphne?
Draco cradled his head in his hands. He was perched on the side of his bed, staring out of the window, trying not to think of his mate sleeping out there, the insufferable look on her face. What a bitch. She'd learned that, by denying him one little act, he could go insane, and she was still unwilling to back down from her prideful stance! One act of sex was nothing, dammit. Why did he have to be with the one girl unwilling to just indulge him for one night, have one night of great sex with the man she would have to be with the rest of her life? Jesus Christ. Hermione Granger was a fucking prude, and that could almost cost him his bloody sanity, maybe even his life.
He got off the bed and out the door in one fluid movement, using his momentum to propel him with little effort. Draco turned to the bathroom and was about to go in, to splash water on his burning face, to do the whole cliché 'look in the mirror and not recognize what you see' bit, but he was struck dumb by a figure sitting in the room to his side.
"Stupefy!"
"Protego!"
Draco scowled and entered his drawing room sullenly. "What the hell are you doing here, Mother? How did you get in?"
Narcissa Malfoy crossed and uncrossed her legs. He eyed the movement suspiciously, unsure if she was genuinely feeling uneasy or simply trying to project the emotion. "Draco," she said, and he hated how her tone was so damn motherly, chiding, like she'd caught him sneaking out after dark. "I didn't think you'd be awake for a few more hours."
"Answer me, Mother." He stood in the doorway, his wand out and lit, casting shadows on her beautiful, icy face.
"A house elf let me in," she said, unfazed by his anger. "Mistress Black-Malfoy still strikes respect into an elf's heart."
"Fear, more like," he mumbled uncharitably. He had four house elves that worked full time at his house, two to clean and two to cook. Tipsy was fiercely loyal to him and wouldn't let his mother in. Her daughter, Lolly, wouldn't either, if only because she was quite enamored by Master Draco. The two that cleaned - Fissy and Fossy, house elf siblings, twins even - were suspect, then.
Narcissa Malfoy waved a hand towards a chair on the other side of the coffee table. "Sit, Draco."
It rankled him how she'd come into his house at four in the morning and ordered him about. "No."
"Don't make this harder, Draco. We desperately need to talk."
"So talk."
Narcissa sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're doing a rather pitiable job with Granger, son. It is Sunday morning, and she has shown no signs of coming to you."
"What do you care?"
She looked genuinely surprised. "I care, Draco. Always. That is why I've taken the liberty of helping the situation out a bit."
His mind raced, picturing all the things she could have done. Threatened Granger. Threatened one of Granger's friends. Slipped a love potion into Granger's drink, or simply hexed her with the Imperius. "What did you do?"
"Nothing so bad as to what you're thinking," she gently rebuked him.
"Mother!" Draco passed a hand over his eyes, seriously worried now. "What did you do?"
Narcissa snapped her fingers, and a house elf appeared, cringing and shooting guilty looks at Draco. "M-Mistress Black M-Malfoy," he stuttered. Fissy, damn him. He'd be getting clothes in the morning. "What m-may I get you?"
"A hot chocolate, if you will. One for my son too."
The house elf disappeared with a crack, and a pulse ticked in Draco's jaw. Disregarding this blatant betrayal, he said sternly, "Mother, tell me what you did."
"I thought like you." At his look of surprise, she chuckled. "Oh, Draco, how you make me laugh. You must have realized that Granger's little research firm wasn't going anywhere."
Oh, shit. Yes, he had been planning to use that against her, but he was sure his mother's way was infinitely worse. He had been prepared to approach her with offers of an investment. He was going to help her get her business together. He was pretty sure his mother just gave Granger a vault full of money and a note that, to access it, she had to sleep with him.
Way to reduce my mate into a common whore, Mother.
"I decided to help her out a bit," she repeated her words from earlier. "I gifted her with a large, anonymous sum of money. It shan't take long before she realizes it's from you, and shows up on your step to thank you."
"Do you know Hermione Granger at all?" The outburst flew from his mouth before he could handle it, a sure sign that he was pissed. He stood. "Why the - why would you do this? When?"
"I did it to help! And Friday night."
That meant -
Oh, dammit. Any hopes of canceling the payment before Granger saw it died and withered to flames. He needed to fix this, but he wasn't really sure he knew how.
Sunday
9:30 AM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
Okay, so she was feeling nauseous. So what if she felt like she was running a cold? She felt depressed and slightly insane, sure, whatever. Did it matter that she found herself wandering aimlessly from room to room, that she felt almost overcome by guilt, that every waking moment she remembered her dreams and wanted to jump Malfoy?
Of course not.
The prat had bribed her. Bribed her! He was basically telling her to whore herself out, and in return, get ASAP up and running!
Like hell!
She wouldn't even let Harry pay for it! God, Malfoy was a pretentious, stuck up, overconfident prat. There was no bloody way she was getting near Malfoy with a ten foot pole after this outrage. Who did he think he was? Hell, who did he think she was? Was she no better than a prostitute, in his eyes? Was he so used to getting whatever he wanted with his over-large wallet that he thought it applied to her as well?
Well, she had news for him. It. Didn't. There was no way in the fiery depths of hell that she was going to have sex with him after this injustice.
Hermione sniffed, and took an angry bite of her pasty. He better stay away. If he had the audacity to show up at her door, she'd hex him so badly that he wouldn't even have balls anymore. Let him try to shag her with those!
Sunday
5:30 PM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
He couldn't believe it had come to this. He couldn't believe he was standing outside her front door, prepared to get on his damn hands and knees, ready to beg for her to listen to him. He couldn't believe his plan had failed, and he couldn't believe it was his own mother that foiled one of the most important business meetings of his life.
Breathing deeply to himself, swallowing past a lump in his throat, he rang her doorbell and immediately threw up a shield. He'd been feeling her anger for days and wasn't about to face it without precautions.
Her door opened, and the first thing he saw was a bolt of red light heading his way. Fuck! Draco stepped to the side. "Granger," he said, hating how hoarse his voice sounded. He looked like shit. He'd tried to comb his hair and wash his face, but all that had achieved was half-neatened blond locks and raw skin from his scrubbing. "Please. I need to talk to you."
"Go away Malfoy!" She was in sweats and a tank top, her hair pulled into a ponytail, her face without makeup and a sneer marring her face. He didn't care. The moment he saw her, he felt the pull so strongly that he took a step forward, and another, until he was in her doorway and her wand was poking his chest. "I mean it. Get the bloody hell out."
"It wasn't me," he pleaded with her. He tried to send every bit of the desperation he was feeling to her. He was nearly driven mad with want and desire and her denial. His totally suave, in control manner was gone, and it left him feeling insecure and out of place. "It was my mother. All of it. Please."
She looked as bad as he did. "Just go away." Then, she laughed, a sound that befuddled him. She was laughing at his pain? "This sounds like a bad romance film. Like you cheated on me and are begging for my forgiveness."
"No, please..."
"You don't even love me. You don't even like me. Hell, we barely know each other anymore. We've barely talked since school, and here you are, begging for me to let you in." Granger shook her head bitterly. "This is bullshit."
She shut the door on him.
No! Dammit! He needed to succeed in this! He closed his eyes, remembering that day in his office when the bags under his eyes disappeared. He concentrated, holding on to the feeling he'd had that day, and nearly cheered when he conjured a mirror and he looked as good as usual. Okay. He may still have a chance.
Sunday
5:34 PM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
She watched him with a handy little spell that turned her door transparent. He had looked about to cry, but then the bond had flared deeply and he had started to change. Now he looked like his normal self, though she still felt his pain and anguish clearly.
Was it his mother? Could it have been? It didn't seem his style, to send her a heap of money, but still. How could she trust him?
He knocked again, and despite herself, she yanked it open. Her wand was still up. He looked at her, obviously trying to affect her with his attractiveness, and said, "Oh, Granger. Do you really think I'd pay you like a whore?"
"Yes," she clipped out.
He rubbed her chin. "Let me come in? Please?"
"No."
He inhaled deeply. "Listen to me, Granger," he said, and she felt a thrill run through him at the predatory tone that entered his voice. "I don't care what the hell your prudish, self-righteous beliefs are telling you. I did not do that. I would not do that. You're being a complete bitch! Maybe it would be better to go insane than to be bonded to you for the rest of my life."
She gasped. That had hurt. Truth be told, it had been a little flattering to have Draco Malfoy pining after her, even if it was only for sex. She had been Draco Malfoy's mate. She had held all the cards. Was he seriousl telling her he'd rather become like his aunt rather than be with her?
"Oh, stop with that charade," she scolded him, hot tears going to his eyes for a second. "We both know the bullshit about your aunt wasn't true."
He looked struck, for a second, before his expression smoothed out. "That was one hundred percent true. Dammit. What can I do to prove this?"
"Veritaserum?" She offered it as a joke, but he nodded emphatically.
"I'll take it."
Sunday
5:45 PM
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
They were sitting in her living room, and he was looking at her intensely. "I want a wizard's vow," he said seriously. "An oath that the only questions you'll ask me will be directly relevant to the consummation today. Nothing about my personal life, my mother's involvement except for the money, and so on."
"I get to call the chases," she said, obviously determined to gain the upper hand. "I'll ask whatever I want to ask."
"How would you feel if I asked you private questions when you had no control to stop it?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and, after a second, she sighed and took the oath. Magic swirled for a second before he grinned and held out his hand. She placed a sealed bottle into it - he didn't want to know where she got Veritaserum - and he broke it open, letting a drop land on his tongue.
Immediately, he felt drowsiness overtake him. He slammed down on his mental shields, a trick he'd learned from Snape. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from telling the truth, but he'd be aware of what he said, and able to twist the wording accordingly.
"Say that the sky is green," she ordered him. It was a standard test, so the oath didn't choke her.
"The sky is," he started, but couldn't finish the answer. He coughed a little and fell silent.
Granger eyed him, and in the still functioning part of the brain he found he liked how intensely she looked at him. "Have you ever sent me money?"
That was easy. "No."
"Has your mother ever sent me money?"
Again, easy. "Yes."
She frowned. "Did your mother send me the money because she thought I was a whore?"
A little trickier, but the reply rolled out of his mouth before she could realize he was censoring some of what the potion wanted him to say. "No. She thought you would seek me in gratitude and I could seduce you."
"Would you have - oh, dammit." She massaged her throat cautiously, as the oath stopped her from asking the next question. "Okay. Um. Did your Aunt Bellatrix, well, was she a Veela?"
"Yes."
"Was she insane because she didn't, uh, sleep with her mate before the next new moon?"
"Yes."
"Could she have been fixed?"
"No." He felt it wearing off, as he'd only taken a drop, but didn't tell her. He might be able to manipulate her by telling a lie when she thought he was being truthful. Calculating and immoral, yes, but he was, first and foremost, trying to survive happily. It was what he did best.
Granger blushed and wrung her hands together before her next question. "Do you love me?"
He felt a little bad but answered "No" anyway. She couldn't have expected him to fall for her! Like she said earlier, they barely knew the post-Hogwarts version of each other.
"Did you - not again!" He smirked to himself as she brushed at her throat angrily. "Okay, um, what is your middle name?"
He couldn't see how this was relevant to her sleeping with him, but he answered, "Potere," anyway as the potion wore off.
Draco hoped she'd keep asking questions, but she checked her watch, sighed, and said, "I believe you. The potion's off, by the way."
Yes! He felt desire rush through him. This time, it captured him, dragged him under. He couldn't resist. "Does that mean," he began, his voice suggestive, "That you're open to...consummation?"
Friday
5:49 PM
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
The obvious stress on open made her blush, but the obviously sexual way he said 'consummation' maybe, just a little, turned her on.
She knew it was the bond talking, but she still felt a little embarrassed. She refused to answer, and he smirked. Malfoy leaned forward, looking breathlessly attractive, and inquired, "Don't tell me you're going to deny me, Granger." He stood and surveyed her sitting on her couch.
"N-no," she whispered. She meant 'no' to the way he was coming slowly towards her, but realized a beat too late what it implied. She blinked and he was there, pulling her up, his hand cool against her warm one.
She didn't love him, didn't even like him, but the rush she was feeling from him and the bond made her feel heady. And that, she told herself, was why she didn't resist when he put his mouth on hers.
It wasn't a peck. It wasn't even like their first and only other kiss, which had been desperate and confusing for her. This one was hard, almost punishing, and she almost buckled at the force of his lips against hers.
Then she did buckle, and they landed on the sofa, hard. "Oh, ow," she murmured, but he sensed it before she did and moved. And then he was below her and she was on his lap and she was sitting there trying to resist while his tongue flicked at her closed lips.
"C'mon, Granger," he murmured, and his voice was so irresistible that she felt her resolve start chipping away. She wasn't sure how she was managing to resist while she felt like she would burn from lust, but Hermione had great amounts of willpower. "What's the harm?"
"You're you," she said, before realizing that wasn't a reason. "Malfoy, this is so wrong."
He didn't respond to that, only slated his lips against hers. His tongue was demanding, he was demanding, he was taking breaks to whisper to her that he needed her, that she better start kissing him back or he'd go insane already, and she opened her lips to him.
* START
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
The moment she opened her mouth, he was kissing her deeply, and he could sense that she was lost to it. Hell, he was lost to it. She was squirming on his lap and he was kissing her and her hands were suddenly in his hair and his hands were on his waist, and he felt so alive, so happy, so fucking turned on that he could hardly breathe.
And then little Miss Prude's lips left his, and he felt them traveling down his throat. He groaned, and felt himself harden, her hot little mouth exquisite against his skin. He slid his hand up her body, up her sexy little stomach, and he played with the bottom of her boring cotton bra, his finger sliding under the wire for a tantalizing second before slipping out.
And then it was like something snapped, something twisted in both of them, and she was pulling at his shirt and hers was halfway off. Neither of them could control themselves, and he only had a second to drink in the way her skin contrasted with her blue bra before it was off and on the floor, and she was wiggling against him, trying to get her jeans off, and he was about to fucking explode already and nothing had happened.
Draco barely managed to catch a glimpse of her breasts, with their dark, smoky nipples, before she had thrown herself at him again, the Virgin Princess of Gryffindor tower, attacking his mouth with kisses. He knew, faintly, it was the bond that was making her pant for it, but he didn't care. This would be the last time the bond forced them together. After this, it would be just him and her, and every one of those little "oh!"s escaping her lips would be because he teased them out of her, because she was responding to him and him alone.
His hands found her breasts and she moaned, breaking their lip contact. She threw her head back just like in the dream he'd sent, her hair still in a ponytail, as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. He grunted, "Divesto!" and her jeans and his disappeared before he lowered his mouth.
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
The feeling of his cold mouth on her hot skin, on her breasts, felt amazing. She couldn't explain it because her brain had shut off, but she just knew she would never get enough of him swirling his nipple in her mouth, biting it gently. It hurt, but she relished in the hurt, exclamations of "More, please, Malfoy, harder," torn from her throat.
She had never felt so turned on, so dripping wet, so lustful before. Her jeans had disappeared, but she was left in panties and him in boxers. She could feel him against her core and she wantonly ground against him, all of her reservations completely disappeared. She felt intoxicated.
He stopped kissing her chest, looking up at her with a sinful expression. "Oh, so you like that, huh, Granger? You like having your enemy's mouth on your tits, huh, yeah?"
And oh, Merlin, that word on his lips made her face flame red, but it also made her more aroused. His hair was mussed from her fingers, and he was her enemy, but the image of Draco Malfoy talking dirty - even slightly - would stay in her head forever, she knew.
"Yes," she breathed out, feeling a little embarrassed at her response before the uncomfortable feeling was swept away. He reached out and she heard a snap before her hair tumbled to her shoulders.
"Oops," he said, looking entirely unapologetic. He reached out and buried his hands in her hair. Feeling embarrassed, as her hair was unwashed and probably frizzing, she tried to jerk her head out of his grasp but his firm hands stopped her. "Oh, bad girl," he scolded, his lips curving. "You look fucking sexy with your hair around your shoulders."
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
She looked different with her hair down, entirely different than the Granger he knew. She blushed prettily and he growled low in his throat before yanking her closer to him. "I need you," he told her frankly. Maybe it wasn't the best way to go about this situation, but he needed her now, quickly. Yes, he wanted to feel her mouth on his erection, he wanted to taste her, he wanted to do so many things to her, but he didn't have the patience right now. Now, he just wanted to fuck her, hard and fast, and see her turn into a shuddering, orgasmic mess. They had the rest of their lives to experiment.
"I need you too," she told him boldly, and then flushed a little deeper. Mentally, he filed away the interesting reaction of hers - one minute she was grinding against him, the next she was blushing like a virgin - and simply pushed her up.
She stood in front of him, clothed only in a sensible pair of panties, looking confused. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Stop talking," he ordered her, his natural urge to dominate taking over. "Take off your panties."
"Malfoy - "
"Stop talking." He mentally got rid of his boxers, and she stared at him, the blush spreading down to her neck and chest. God, she looked fucking perfect. "I'm waiting."
(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)
She should yell at him for ordering her around like that, but it made her shiver in desire. She liked seeing the look in his eyes, liked hearing the commanding note in his voice. She liked it all, and dropped her panties in a move that she'd meant to be sexy but only turned out fumbling and inexperienced.
He pulled her down onto the couch horizontally and rolled over her, muttering a spell, one that she assumed was the wizarding equivalent of a condom. He looked sexy like that, over her, hair falling in his face. And then, in a move that made her gasp, he reached down and trailed a finger through her folds and on her clit.
"Oh, shit!"
His smirk was impossibly pleased with himself. "You couldn't be wetter if you tried, Granger."
"'I need you," she told him in response. Maybe the words were forced out by the mysterious bond and maybe the 'Hermionus-coitus' as one of her old boyfriends had termed her sexual side was that bold. Whatever the reason was, she said it, and he entered her.
She was faintly aware of his mouth mumbling obscenities above her, but she was lost. He was moving in her and she was clawing at his back, almost, telling me, ordering him, to go harder and faster. She felt a delicious itch and arched her back, wanting more.
"Fuck, Granger, oh damn," he breathed and, hooking arm under her leg, changed the angle so that he was hitting her deeper, faster. They both knew they wouldn't last long, they couldn't, not at the feverishly fast pace they were setting, but Hermione didn't care.
"Malfoy, please," she begged, and his hands found her clit, playing with it, rolling it, even as he did that thing with his mouth on his breasts. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, threw her arms around his neck, and gave herself in to every bit of this forbidden sex.
(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)
She felt so good, clenching around him, moaning with that sexy mouth of hers, sounding surprised every time he hit her. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy and she was rolling her hips against his, trying to draw him in deeper with each thrust.
"I'm going to come," he groaned in her ear, embarrassed that he was about to explode like a randy fourth year experimenting for the first time.
"I don't care," she breathed sexily. "God, you feel good. Shit, Draco, I think I'm going to - to, oh, shit, I'm going to come."
He fucking loved that he was making her lose control like this, and he tried to ram into her deeper. God, he wasn't going to last, please Merlin make her come, pleasepleaseplease, he was about to explode, oh, shit!
She was shuddering around him, and it was as glorious as he'd pictured it, completely lost. And then he was coming and he wasn't exactly conscious, and the bond was purring and he could practically hear her thoughts screaming as the bond was satisfied and he really became her Veela and her, his mate.
A/N 2: Welll, I hope that didn't turn away any of my readers! A lot happens in this chapter! I have no teaser because I have no idea what's happening in the next chapter, haha. I gave you everything I had. And to think, I started out this fic a few chapters ahead...and then deleted like all of it because I didn't like the direction it was going. I need reviews on the sex scenes. Obviously, they aren't as intense as my smutty one-shots, though I do warn that they will probably get more and more explicit as their relationship develops. Review? With suggestions? Please, be like "I thought it was totally unrealistic - Hermione was so bipolar!" or whatever. I won't be offended. pleasseee.
Okay, review begging aside, thank you to those that DID review. MADE MY LIFE. Really. Today I got up and, after days of no reviews in my inbox, I had two...and that motivated me to write like 7,000 words :D
(did anyone notice that today is 6/9? Hahaha. Jeez. I'm so immature)
Thank you! Cheers! Adios! Addio!