Chapter 2
The next morning, Hermione woke from her light sleep still feeling completely exhausted, the book she had been reading before she had somewhat dozed off draped on her stomach. Dozing off like that usually made her feel even more tired than before, but she had eventually given in to her need for sleep, after listening all night to the howling outside the tent. It had been full moon, and he had fully transformed into his werewolf form; he had circled her tent all night, never leaving their spot, probably waiting for her to make another mistake. She thought she had seen him pass the front of the tent at least once, just a short glimpse at his werewolf with his astonishingly white fur—every werewolf she had read about had been described as having a greyish coloured fur. As weird as it sounded, she was fascinated by his exceptional colouring and would have loved a full view of him in this state. She sighed and rubbed her face before sitting up. At least the Protection Spell did hold and he couldn't come inside in his werewolf form.
"Oh my God," she uttered when she discovered that she wasn't alone in her tent, as Draco was lying next to her bed on the floor—completely naked. Thank God, he was lying on his stomach; anything else would have been too much for her mind straight after waking up. After the initial shock had worn off, she took the opportunity to have a closer look at him and found her impression from the first day confirmed—he looked emaciated with nothing left of his former athletic body she knew he had had; but what really shocked her were the scratches and cuts all over his body, many old ones mixed with new and still bloody ones. Those on his arms were the most disturbing, as they looked like he either tried to cut it out, or kill himself in a moment of utter despair. What had happened to him to make him even consider suicide? After another seemingly long moment, she conjured a warm cover for him - he doesn't need to feel cold in her tent, nor does he need to feel humiliated when waking up again. He deserved some dignity. With a deep sigh, she then carefully climbed over him to prepare herself some coffee for a small breakfast in her bed while keeping an eye on him. Now covered, he looked like a lost child, not like the beast he had shown the last two days.
Climbing back shortly after, careful not to spill anything on him, she mused about why he was now lying here next to her bed on the floor. During the first two encounters, he had seemed drawn to her, even somewhat entranced by her smell. Another shiver went down her spine when she remembered the incredibly soft touch of his fingers on her neck; it had both times felt as if he was caressing her. That softness had freaked her out both times, not knowing whether it had been Draco who touched her in that moment, or the beast. Checking Draco once more, she took a first sip from her coffee and then re-opened the book she had been reading during the night.
Draco finally woke up around lunchtime, groaning lowly when he tried to move his limbs.
Hermione remained on her bed, and watched with some curiosity how he realised that he wasn't in his shack, and under a cover in addition. "Morning," Hermione said softly when he managed to turn on his back.
Surprised to hear her voice, he opened his eyes. "What? Where...? How...?" he croaked, his voice sounding more like his old again.
"My tent," she replied softly, and finished the now cold coffee in her mug.
"You."
"Yes. I told you I won't leave. This is the tent I travelled with for the last six months–"
"What happened?"
She smiled softly at his impatient tone. "Seems you came in here once you were transformed back..." She noticed how exhausted he looked; his skin actually had a slight greying tinge to it that she hadn't noticed earlier. Combined with his scars and bruises all over his body, he almost looked like someone else, not the Draco Malfoy she remembered.
"I was drawn here all night," he replied, letting out a sigh while rubbing his face. "It wanted you."
"I know. I heard you all night," she said, and unfolded her legs to let them hang over her tent bed. She felt safe enough in his presence, this was Draco in control again—and he wouldn't ever willingly hurt her. "I put a spell on the tent to make sure you could only enter it when in human form. You should eat something. I still have loads of what I brought you before."
"I'm not hungry," he grumbled.
"I didn't ask whether you're hungry," she countered and climbed off the bed. "You're just skin and bones, you know?"
"Why are you here?" he asked, raking his fingers through his dreads of hair, his eyes never leaving her. "You shouldn't have come."
She shortly looked at him. "I told you before, I've been looking everywhere for you," she whispered, and climbed over him to the impromptu cooking corner to make another round of coffee.
He watched her fill the mugs with instant coffee, and then heat up the still half-filled kettle with a well-placed Heating Spell. "Just why?" he finally asked, propping himself into a sitting position, revealing his scarred chest once more. "Why would you do that?"
Hermione looked at him, having noticed the tone in his voice that showed his insecurity, though he still tried to keep her at an arm's length. She took a deep breath, and kneeled down to his level after revoking the Heating Spell. "How could I not come after your words during the Battle? I really hoped you meant them, you know? B-But then I saw your name in the confidential Register for Creatures. That was when I knew you wouldn't come back and tell me. No..." She shook her head, her eyes fixed on him; he was staring straight at her, his eyes still having a more wolfish expression, cautious expression to them. "So I had to find you because I wanted to know where you were and what had happened to you."
"You were waiting for me?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn't have. I-It was just words–"
"No. No one says such a thing during a battle without meaning it. It wasn't just words—that's why I'm here."
He looked at her for a moment, his eyes had a softer, more human-like expression to them, but the beast in him was still lurking close beneath the surface. "I meant what I said back then," he then admitted quietly looking down on his hands on the cover to avoid her gaze. "I wished I had the chance to show you."
"You still have that chance," she whispered.
Seemingly surprised to hear that, he looked at her again, examining her now, sceptical about her sincerity. "Why?"
"Because your words got stuck in my head–"
"You should forget them. They are meaningless now. I'm nothing more than a beast–"
"Don't say that, Draco. You're still a human being–"
"You said yourself I'm on the Register of Creatures..."
Her heart pained to hear him say that, and so she cupped his cheeks. "Please stop thinking that. You're no less a human being just because you've been bitten. At least not to me." She let her thumbs stroke his cheeks. "Not to me."
He laid his hands over hers. "You say that now. What if I attack you?"
"You attacked me yesterday, and I'm still here."
"I couldn't stop it. The day of the full moon is always the worst and you just had to come inside."
"I know. It was a mistake–"
"Hermione, it cost me a lot of effort to keep it from having you then and there."
"Let me help you," she whispered, despite feeling helpless right now. She just didn't know how to make him believe her words.
He let go of her, even moved out of her reach until he was leaning against her tent bed. "Why would you say that? Why do you want to help me? I'm worthless, why don't you get that? I'm nothing–"
"No, you're not." With a heavy heart, she followed him, until she was close to him again, letting a hand run over his cheek once more; she had heard the growl in his voice, as if he tried to hide his despair with it. She knew she had to choose her words wisely now. "You're still Draco Malfoy, a human being and a wizard. You're not worthless, no one is."
"No." He shook his head.
"Draco, look at me." She pulled his head up, desperate to make him understand. "I won't leave you. I've seen the worst of you; I've seen the best of you. You're a very capable wizard–"
"Not anymore."
"You still are." She pressed a heartfelt kiss on his forehead, and heard him hold his breath at the touch. "What about something to eat?" she asked after a moment of heavy silence between them. Before, she had only guessed at the depths of his despair, but would have never guessed he would hate himself this much. With her free hand, she grabbed one of his. "I won't leave." She smiled softly when she finally felt him nod.
How was the night? Did the spell hold?
Hermione checked her device for any messages from Harry when Draco was in the tent taking a bath while she waited outside out of respect. The spell did hold. He couldn't come in his transformed state.
How are you?
I'm fine. That wasn't exactly true—she was exhausted from the lack of sleep over the last couple of nights, and overwhelmed by the state she had found Draco in. She didn't know yet how to counter his insecurity and self-hate. Just haven't slept much last night. He's not the Malfoy you remember, there's not much left of that.
What do you mean?
He hates what he has become. And some of the cuts all over his body look suspiciously like he tried to kill himself.
A lot of werewolves try to kill themselves.
Lupin never did.
Do we really know?
Hermione sighed. True, they didn't know whether Lupin had ever tried to take his life. But she was sure that his friendship with James and Sirius had helped him keep off those dangerous thoughts. Draco, on the other hand, had been completely alone to deal with his condition. No, you're right.
So you've spoken with Draco then?
Yes. He was in my tent when I woke up.
I thought the spell held? What was he doing in there?
Harry, don't you read? The spell only holds him off in his transformed state. He must have come inside once he had transformed back. He slept on the floor, don't worry.
You've seen him naked then?
Don't make such a fuss, but yes. He is just skin and bones, you know?
OK. Sorry. What do you want to do now?
Bring him home.
Inside the tent, Draco was soaking in the hot bath she had drawn for him; he had his head under water, wanting to block out the world outside while contemplating his situation. Yes, he had told her that he loved her to death when they had a moment alone while hiding in a room during the Battle at Hogwarts. All through their years in Hogwarts, she had always been on his mind—she was exceptional in everything, and would have been absolutely perfectly representable to his parents if only she had been a pure-blood. She wasn't, so he just watched her over the years, something Zabini later used to joke about in the dorm. But by that point, she had already got under his skin until she was everywhere—his dreams as well as his thoughts. And when the War started, she had seemed like a promise of hope in those dark times. Yes, she had been the reason why he had decided to switch sides when the opportunity arose, agreeing to play a double agent assisting Snape. Potter and his gang had been against him joining the Order—she had told them to give him a chance, deciding to trust him being sincere. All through the War, he never dared to lose that trust. No, never.
Still under water, he let out some of his breath. And now she was here, talking about helping him. Just why? Why would she do that? He wasn't worth saving, so why was she trying to save him? He didn't deserve anything but to die - he was a worthless beast now. He didn't deserve her. With that thought in his head, he came back up and gasped for air. He could hear her outside the tent; she seemed to talk to herself. Merlin, he remembered how he had been drawn to her during his transformation—the beast still wanted her, he could feel it. He wanted her; nothing had changed that since that fateful day at the Battle of Hogwarts. Taking a deep breath, he fished for the sponge and then started rubbing the dirt off his skin, until it was raw and red, just like some of his newest injuries. He had clawed himself once more, like he had done so many full moons before; she had undoubtedly seen it. She must have seen everything else too. Gods, he absolutely hated those nights, having no control over his actions, but witnessing everything the beast was doing – and the worst thing of it all was that he could remember everything the day after. This night, he had been constantly drawn to her tent, could see her through the gap at the tent entrance, and hear her hold her breath whenever she thought she had heard him step on something. All that had excited the beast, it had even excited him. Thank the gods that she had been wise enough to put up some sort of Protection Spell – he could not have guaranteed anything if she hadn't.
Draco sighed again, and started applying the shampoo to his hair. Just why did she think that he was worth saving? He hadn't seen any pity in her eyes, something he wouldn't have been able to stand. All he could see was care. He closed his eyes, and rinsed the shampoo out again; the dirt he washed out of his hair with every wave of water turned it grey. He hadn't realised that his hair was so dirty, but then he hadn't cared about his appearance ever since he was on the run. Yes, it felt good to wash all that dirt off, as if he was scrubbing and rinsing off a layer of skin that felt like it was all-defining, even somewhat suffocating him. He took another deep breath, and leaned back for another moment, feeling slightly better. She must have added something to the water as well, as his body was aching less, and his muscles felt surprisingly relaxed. So for that moment, Draco felt like a proper human being again.
Hermione came back inside when Draco was putting on the clothes she had put on the bed for him to take. "You look more like your old self again," she commented with another of her soft smiles warming her face.
"I don't feel like it," Draco replied. "And you don't look much like your old self either..." He pushed a strand of his semi-dry hair out of his face, and then put on the shirt.
"Searching for you was a bit like hunting for Horcruxes," she replied, putting her empty mug on the little makeshift table.
He nodded, remembering that Potter and his gang were talking about the Horcruxes, and then—while he had returned to Hogwarts as a student to keep up appearances—she disappeared into the wild. The weary tone in her voice revealed that it probably was a lonely and scary hunt. "Where did you get those clothes from? They look like those I used to have–"
"They are yours. Your mother gave me those–"
"You've seen my parents?" He straightened down the front of the simple shirt; it was like a reminder of how much weight he had lost over the last few months. "Did they send you?"
Hermione shook her head and sat down on the bed. "I visited them to see whether they knew anything about what happened to you. I didn't tell them that I saw your name in the Register, but that it was some informal case I'm working on." She let out a sigh.
"He offered you money?"
She nodded. "It felt a bit like a deal with the devil... I mean with your father. He offered to pay for any expenses, the tent, and whatever I might need until I'd find you and bring you back. Your mother just misses you. I think that's why he offered it. She gave me those clothes..."
Draco nodded and stroked a couple of more times over the shirt. Yes, that was his father, paying everyone to get them to do what he wanted. It annoyed him to no end that he had tried the same with Hermione, but he did understand her reasons to accept it – she wasn't as financially independent as others. "What if I don't want to come back?" he finally asked, looking straight at her.
"Draco, you can't continue like that," she said quietly, holding his gaze; he could not only see an unwillingness to give him up in her eyes, but also a glint of hope and care. "You're killing yourself living like that!"
He sighed and turned around, facing the other away from her; he couldn't bear her looking at him like that. "What if that's the point?" he let out in a growl, trying to contain the beast that still held some control over his mind. If only he could shut it out forever! "You really think I want to continue living like a worthless creature? Like this?" He was shouting now. "How would anyone want to continue like this?"
"You're not worthless," she replied, her quiet voice betrayed by the crack he could hear.
"Hermione, I am a bloody werewolf! I AM WORTHLESS!"
"No."
He didn't hear her get up and come closer, so when he turned around, he saw her stand directly behind him with her brown eyes looking at him as if he was all she had ever wanted. "I am."
She shook her head again, defiantly even. "I refuse to believe that," she whispered.
Gods, she was only inches away now, and Draco found her scent absolutely intoxicating and the closeness overwhelming. The beast inside him was raging, encouraging him to take what was his. Somewhat entranced, he let his fingers run over her cheeks, and then tilted her head upwards. Gods, she was still looking at him with those warm brown eyes he could drown in, and he thought he could see a spark of wanting in them. "I am," he whispered, "but right now, I want something else." With that, he framed her head and kissed her, shoving his tongue right in between her lips, wanting to taste her. He could feel her protest for the first few seconds out of surprise, but then... But then she kissed him back just as eagerly, her fingers raking through his hair, leaving a tingling trail over his scalp; her tongue was battling his for dominance, eager to devour every corner of his mouth as he was eager to devour hers. Desperate for more, he started pulling up her jumper and the strap top underneath; the first touch of her skin on her back was electrifying and exciting. The beast now wanted more, he wanted more; he pulled the clothes rather roughly over her head and discarded them on the floor. Now that her neck was free once more, he was fixed on it again, letting his fingers run over it and feeling her racing pulse. Entranced by that feeling, he started tracing kisses down that pulse.
Hermione let out a moan when he found that weak spot at the joint of her neck and shoulder, and pushed his hips closer into hers before pulling his shirt up to his shoulders; her hands traced all the scars on his back running all over his skin. However, she cried out in pain when he bit her hard enough in the neck to leave a small leaking wound. "Draco!" she rasped, pulling him off her, glaring at him.
He ignored her glare, and framed her head to pull her closer for another kiss. "Get everything else off," he growled before he kissed her hungrily once more. Gods, she tasted wonderful, leaving him wanting more and more, as if he had to satisfy a deep primal hunger. He needed to have her. So, he pushed her towards the table and rather roughly yanked her trousers down, feeling her protest slightly against his mouth. Then he pushed her on the table—it had the perfect height for grinding his hips into hers while holding on to them. Her moans sounded delicious, deep and hungry; and feeling her folds rub against his arousal, only furthered his want to have her. So he took the legs she wrapped around his waist for a sign to go on, and he yanked her knickers, tearing them in the process.
"Draco, don't— OH YES!" She arched back with a deep moan when he pushed a finger inside, and then circled her clit with his thumb.
She was his in that moment, his to have, his to take! Draco delighted in her reaction, and he started leaving a trail of hot kisses on her neck, her shoulder, down to her cleavage, all while continuing to push his finger into her. She was all aroused and wet, and felt bloody gorgeous. He returned his attention back to her neck, attending to the wound with soft kisses, licks, and then finally sucking on it until he could taste the blood again. The table under her was shaking from her rocking her hips against his hand, and from the sounds of her moans, she was already more than half gone. He needed her—now. With his free hand, he freed himself of his trousers, thankful that he had foregone the boxers when he got dressed.
Hermione let out a disappointed sigh when he removed his hand from her folds. "Don't stop," she breathed, begging him, and still rocking her hips.
Draco simply shook his head, then pushed her down and spread her legs further apart, revealing those gorgeous folds to his view. He licked his lips, she was all his.
"Oh my God!" Hermione let out when he entered her in one quick move, arching once more. "More!"
He held still for a heartbeat to fully take in the view in front of him—her lost to pleasure—as well as the feeling of her all around him. Was this what salvation felt like? And with that thought, he started thrust deeply and heavily into her, letting the table shake even more with each thrust. "Yes," he growled. He held on tight to her hips, pinned her down to thrust more easily into her, leaving marks on her skin.
"More!" she rasped; she had her hands now holding on to the edges of the table. "Fuck me!"
"I want to hear you come," he replied, intensifying his thrusts and speed, until he was pounding her almost mercilessly. Gods, she felt glorious, with her vagina tightening around his cock, ready to squeeze him. When he noticed that she was about to come, he stopped and looked at her for what felt like the longest of moments, before he started pounding into her once more.
"Harder!" she moaned deeply, her eyes closed. "God yes... fucking yes!" She had her hands now on her breasts that were still covered with her bra, and massaged them. And then she lost it, arching and moaning into her orgasm.
Draco could feel her come undone around him, the walls of her vagina squeezing him up to the brink. Yes, this was what salvation must feel like... "Fuck yes!" Draco let himself fall into that pool of bliss he'd never thought he'd experience again. Salvation.
When Hermione came down shortly after, he was still connected to her. She shook her head to clear her mind somewhat and realised that he was actually leaning over her, caressing the wound on her neck with soft kisses; she was actually surprised at the gentleness he showed now after that rather rough, and passionate sex they just had. She took a deep breath. His first kiss had resonated so deeply with something inside her that she just had to respond to it, and this had come of it. She just had let him take her on a table. On a fucking table. And the whole thing felt like a bloody mating ritual on top of that with the marking on her neck. "What are you doing?" she finally whispered, stroking his back gently, letting her fingers run along those scars on his back once more.
"Kissing your neck."
"Draco, you bloody bit me!" she let out angrily, but the brushed kisses over her bruised skin felt wonderful, soothing.
"You won't change," he replied, still attending to her neck.
"Still, you bloody bit me. Why the hell did you do that? Were you marking me for a mate or something like that?"
He finally came up, his pale grey eyes searching hers; she was mesmerised by the still prominent animalistic look in them. "I just felt the need to do it. I can't explain. And I'm sorry about it."
"So, just rough, passionate sex because we couldn't hold off any longer?" she asked, letting the doubt in her voice shine through. "Or were you marking me as a mate?"
"You know that I want you," he replied huskily, and kissed her deeply again.
Hermione broke off again and took a deep breath. "I noticed," she whispered, his head in her hands, letting her thumbs run over his cheeks. "I'd just prefer if it really was only rough sex, because everything else would freak me out to no end, okay?"
He nodded, even flashed a short smile before brushing a peck on her nose.
"Now, help me get off." She let out a yelp of surprise when he lifted her off the table, still connected to her. "Oh God, that feels good." For better support, she wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist, as the change of angle send shivers down her spine. Then she was finally let down on the ground, severely disappointed at the loss of connection.
"You can always have more," he whispered into her ear, making her shiver.
Hermione took a deep breath, and then collected her things to get dressed again. God, the changed angle had rubbed her in the exact right spot, and she would have willingly let him have her once more. No, she didn't trust herself right now. Maybe a quick wash in the small creek would help, the cold water bringing her back to her senses. And she definitely needed to cast the Contraception Spell on herself; thank the gods that it was still effective when cast immediately afterwards. She didn't want to risk anything, the situation was complicated enough.
"You okay?" he asked when she came back in; he was just putting his shirt back on, trying to straighten it again; he looked calmer too.
"Yes, I'm fine... Or at least as fine as I can be," she replied earnestly, but with a soft smile. "Was just a rather intense experience. And I'm still not so sure about that," she added, pointing at her neck that was now adorned with an at least closed wound, but would probably turn into a full bruise over the next days.
"I'm sorry about that," he replied, sounding sincerely apologetic. "I can't even really explain why I did it–"
She raised her hand to stop him. "It's okay, I think." With that, she came up to him, but this time left some distance between them. The first time had led to the bruise on her neck. "You're starting to look more and more like your old self."
"As I said before, I don't feel like it. I'm not that person anymore."
"I realised," she replied, rubbing her neck absent-mindedly. She might want to put a Healing Potion on it later.
"I think I better leave... You have that look on your face. You always looked like that whenever I either did something you didn't approve of in the Order, or when you're thinking hard about something. I never quite knew which it was."
She nodded, smiling faintly at his remark, but still feeling rather disappointed that he didn't want to stay. "Just please don't run away..."
He grabbed her hand. "I won't," he whispered, leaning down to her. "I still want you..."
Hermione noticed how her body reacted with arousal to his words, yet her mind freaked out. She had made another mistake, letting him have her so easily. She simply didn't know right now whether it was the beast speaking or Draco. Gods, the books were right about those hypnotising eyes! "No," she whispered when she realised she was about to grab him for another hungry kiss, and took a deep breath, rubbing her face. Yes, he was right, he had better leave for a while; she needed to sort out her mind. "Yes, you should get out for a moment," she finally said, and tried to hide her confusion behind a smile.
"See you later," he replied, nodding, and finally left the tent.
'Mione?
Hermione was pulled from her thoughts hours later by the beeping of her device. She sighed, it seemed that Ron had got hold of Harry's, he was the only who ever called her this. Hi Ron.
Are you really okay?
Yes, I am. Just figuring out a few things. Oh, Hermione had more than just a few things to figure out, and she again felt like a bloody beginner when she thought about what had happened earlier. At least Ron was easier to distract. How's the family?
Ginny and Harry are driving me crazy, they still have Bill's old room here in the Burrow, and I can hear them almost every night. I never wanted to hear my sister like that.
Hermione had to chuckle at that. Yes, she remembered one over-night stay at the Burrow before she had found Draco's name in the Register—she had heard them too that night, it had felt like listening to her brother's passion, something she never wanted to know. Don't they use a Silencio?
They forget it.
How's your mother?
She's doing better, gets out again, smiles more. And George seems to go out a lot with Angelina, or she just takes him along to places to distract him a bit. When are you coming back?
Soon. I miss you all.
Miss you too.
Hermione sighed; she knew that he still harboured some feelings for her, even though they had broken up only a couple of months after the war. She had left him because she hadn't felt as if she could do him justice as a girlfriend, as much as she wanted to be on her own in that period. It had broken her heart to break his, but with Ginny's help she could explain to him that it was better this way, but that he could still come to her with anything if he wanted to talk to someone. It had been a quiet couple of weeks afterwards, but they had eventually found a way to stay friends. She had still given the device to Harry because between the two he was the more level-headed, and helpful to get information.
I leave the device out of sight for a moment, and Ron grabs it.
No, it was okay, Harry. Nice to hear that Molly feels a bit better again.
She does.
Just some advice, because I know Ron won't ever dare tell you: Please use Silencio when you want to be alone with Ginny. He can hear it all... Hermione thought she could sense Harry blush, he wasn't one to talk much about his sex life. But she was really glad that he had found the right partner in Ginny...
Oh gods.
Yes, he was definitely blushing now. Just try to remember it next time.
I promise. How's everything going with Malfoy?
Hermione didn't know how much she could tell Harry without having him freak out. She herself still felt freaked out about the whole incident earlier that day, especially the marking on her neck and her willing reaction to his words. He's doing better. Had a bath and gave him some fresh clothing. Now he looks a bit more like he used to.
OK. Know when you'll come back?
A few more days I guess. I'll let you know.
Author's Note:
Thanks for the reviews so far! :)
As to why Draco is alone when Hermione finds him: There will be a moment where he talks about what had happened to him. His ferality, however, is connected to the moon—the closer the full moon is, the more feral he is (or the less control he has over himself).