Hermione pushed herself closer into Draco's body, making him step back until he hit an armchair with the back of his legs. She didn't pull away even then, hungry for him, insatiable. He sat down on the armchair, breaking their kiss, and she rushed to straddle his hips, connecting their mouths again.

"Wait," Draco said. "I'll wash up first."

Hermione grabbed the collar of his bloodied shirt, pulling him closer. "No, I want you like this," was all she answered.

She continued kissing him and he finally answered, giving in fully. Draco grabbed a fistful of her hair and deepened the kiss. Hermione started grinding on his thighs, ripping his shirt open, making the buttons fly out and rattle through the ground. She let her hands wander down his scarred chest, feeling his muscles twitch under her fingers. He seized her by the hips, trying to stop her grinding, and she pulled away only to look down at the bulge in his trousers.

His eyes were half-lidded as she started to work his zipper while his mouth descended to her neck, biting and sucking and kissing, leaving bruises in his way. Hermione freed his cock and fisted it once, twice. Draco groaned and rushed to lift her hips up – and he did so with surprising ease – to tear apart her knickers because he had no patience left to undress her properly. They both looked at each other, the fire in their gazes matching in ferocity as he impaled her on his cock and they both moaned in unison at the contact – he was all inside of her and she was completely filled by him.

She started riding him, but she was too slow and too careful as she had never done it before. He stared at her with glazed eyes, one of his hands clutching her jaw to force her to look at him. His hips shifted, beginning to hit her from below faster. He groaned into her ear, his face buried in her neck and hair. She shifted as something curled deep in her belly. Draco stilled, breathing heavily, and pulled back to look back at her.

"Mine. You're mine," he said. His voice was low, shaking with power. His expression was distorted as if he was angry – or as if he was trying hard not to come.

Hermione nodded feverishly, mesmerized by the bloodied white hair of his falling across his face. She ran her fingers through it, and he kissed her again, setting her lips on fire, biting them, drawing more blood on his already blood-splashed face. He moved harder, her body jerking up with every one of his thrusts from below, but his ruthless hands – the same hands that just tortured her tormenter – were on her hips, holding her down.

His mouth was heavy against hers, his tongue invading her space as he pumped into her. She threaded her fingers deeper into his hair and angled his head, taking control of the kiss – he let her. His kisses got sloppier the faster his movements became, he was a beast let out of its cage, ready to devour everything in its' wake – and in Draco's way was Hermione.

He began groaning in her mouth, panting with every thrust. He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes skating over her breasts to watch them bounce with each roll of his hips. His breath became shallower, and he clenched his jaw. Hermione tried to widen her legs to give him more access and suddenly he slid deeper inside of her which she didn't know was possible. She gasped and he cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes closed. His hands closed around her waits more forcefully, and she knew he was holding back not to break her ribcage.

"Oh god," she moaned, stretched between the precipice of pleasure and pain.

A dark chuckle emanated from the depths of Draco – a laughter so villainous it made her shiver.

"I'm no god," he gritted through his teeth, the look on his face almost mocking. "Who am I?"

"Draco," Hermione moaned out, her face contorting in a pitifully pain-filled grimace.

"Again," he hissed.

"Draco…"

"Again…

"Draco, Draco, Draco…"

One of his hands grasped her breast, the other entangled into her hair, forcing her head up, exposing her neck to him where he bit down.

"And who are you, hmm, sweetie?" he rasped into her ear.

"Yours…" Hermione breathed out.

He didn't laugh this time.

Because this was true.

She was his.

And he was hers.

And no one would be able to stand in their way now – only death.

He leaned back again, still thrusting into her, watching her carefully as his hand slid between them. The feather-light touch of his fingers on her clit made her melt down into her and she almost fell on top of him, but his other hand grabbed her by the shoulder to keep her up.

She moaned and whined.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and that made him double his efforts, his fingers massaging her most sensitive bundle of nerves. His hips moved and his mouth were on her again, and his fingers worked her up, and all she could feel was him, he was all inside of her and around her—her mouth fell open, toes curling.

"Are you going to come on my cock?" he asked, his tone fake-soft and somewhat patronizing.

She frowned, closed her eyes and shook her head. She was trying so hard not to come. He just killed a person, he was still bloody, and now she was soiled too from having him inside of her. But this is what she wanted, she had wanted him for so long, and he killed Bellatrix to protect Hermione, and that thought alone could bring her over the edge.

His eyes flickered over her, the black oh his irises obscuring the grey in his eyes. He thrust into her again and her eyelids fluttered. He sighed and began rolling his hips deeply, stretching her, making her feel there was no more room left for his shaft. She watched his face as he watched her, and she slid her hands back to his chest, tracing his scars. She wanted to kiss them, to kiss the pain each of them had caused away.

To do so forever.

She wanted to be there to treat him, heal him, be with him. She wanted him to be there to protect her and to fuck her raw.

His eyes closed as his hips pumped faster. His fingers on her clit sped up, moving sloppily over her core. Her muscles clenched as he began to fuck her in earnest, his mouth open in awe like she held the answers to questions he'd asked for years. Her back arched, and her nails dug into his shoulders. He didn't hiss, didn't let out a sound, only watched her with that intense possessive expression of his that he gave only her.

"Fuck." His jaw tightened, and his thrusts rocketed her body further – she felt like she was riding a carousel. He pounded into her body, using her deliciously. She moved her hands up and down the runic scars on his back, caressing him gently with shaky hands as he rubbed her clit viciously. Her thighs began to tremble, and she was sure she wasn't going to last long.

Suddenly, he intertwined their fingers, and her lips parted silently as he rocket into her again.

"Oh my god," she spoke out fearfully, shivering violently. "Oh god."

He growled, pulling a shock of her hair in his fist back painfully, making her gasp.

"What's my name," he commanded.

She was about to cry from the glorious friction that passed between them.

"Draco," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Draco—"

A tear ran down her cheek.

He licked it up.

Her arms struggled under his ferocious grip, but he just held her more tightly, panting into her hair.

"You pray to me when you come, Granger. No other god exists for you. Go on, come on my cock."

His cock was hitting something deep inside of her that made her liquefy. Her pussy clenched down on him, and he groaned deeply as he fucked her through a feeling so unyielding and otherworldly that she cried harder, her moans turning into sobs. She shook in her skin, her spirit rattling inside its cage, begging for a forever that might intertwine with his. Her walls rippled around him, and her vision blurred as Draco's hips slammed to a halt, grunting and pulsing inside of her with groan.

She caught her breath, her chest slick with his sweat and hers. Her fingers were still intertwined with his in a tangle of clenched hands.

He lifted his head and stared down at her. His eyes were bright — grey and searching. He released her hands, and as she stretched her muscles, he brought his fingers to her jaw, examining her face for something. Regret, maybe.

Her eyes were clear as she stared back at him, letting him see through her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, frowning, once they finally flew back to themselves from their high.

She shook her head, as much as the clutch of his fingers on her jaw allowed. "No," she said. "I loved it. I wanted it." He kept looking at her, unconvinced. "All I want is you, Draco," she added more quietly.

He released her, leaning back in the armchair. She wanted to stand up, but he kept her in place.

"No," he said. "What I want is to stay inside of you a little longer."

It wasn't a question, but still she nodded. His arms wrapped around her and he urged to relax into him. She put her head on his naked shoulder.

Hermione started thinking.

Actually thinking.

"My wand…" she breathed out.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What am I going to do without my wand?"

"I'll get you a new one," he said.

She sniffed, tears coming back again. "Mudbloods cannot get a new wand."

"I'll get you one."

Only now she realized her situation. She shifted to look into his face. He looked down at her intensely, although the possessiveness had thankfully dimmed slightly.

"Did you finish her off?"

He nodded. "But she's still outside. I'll put Dismembering poison on the cadaver, and it'll dissolve by morning."

She swallowed thickly; she didn't need to know all of that, and he noticed his words made her uncomfortable.

"You won't see her ever again," he added.

Hermione looked down at her hands. His semi-hard cock was still twitching inside of her but Draco showed no effort to pull away from her, so she stayed like that.

"Thank you…" she whispered. "I know you did it to protect me from her…"

His fingers were on her chin again, forcing her face up. "Granger," he inquired. She found his eyes. "I killed Bella for you as much as I it for me." She kept looking for an answer in his gaze. "Do you know why she tortured you? Why Bella tortured you when you first appeared at the Manor?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Because—because I'm a Mudblood—"

"Because she knew what I feel for you. Because by the time the three of you got here, she had scrutinized my mind and I didn't know how to protect myself yet. Bella wanted me to see you suffer so that I know what happens to those I care about. You were tortured because of me. It's the only thing I feel guilty about, nothing else. I never forgave myself for it, and I never will. All I did afterwards was to keep them away from you, so they never know you were still in between the strings of my heart."

She stared at him. "What are you saying?" she asked, barely a whisper.

The possessiveness was back again, the ferocity of it made her insides turn. "You were my secret, the one none of them wanted to exist. I've liked you for quite some time. Since I was a boy. Remember when you punched me in the face? In our third year."

Her expression was filled with disbelief. "Yes," she forced out.

"That's when something awakened inside of me. A poison, for you. Slowly, it turned into obsession."

"You mean you—liked me since we were thirteen?"

he didn't nod, he simply gazed at her – his eyes told her all she wanted to know.

I liked you too, she wanted to say. I liked you since the moment I saw you. But she didn't say anything.

"I told my mother the summer before the fourth year. She got angry and told my father. He was furious. I believed they would understand that they would put my needs before their prejudice. It was foolish of me to expect that from them, but I was only a boy then. I think I started liking you when I saw you in that ridiculously maginficent dress at the Yule Ball. That's when I started seeing you as something more, as a girl I might fancy. Of course, I knew it would be impossible for us to work out, not only because my family would never give their blessing, but also because you would never see me as anything else but your bully. So I repressed those feelings. Actually, I might've been repressing them for far longer, perhaps even since the first time I met you - I was instantly drawn to you because of your intelligence. I grew up surrounded either by actual fools or by those who tried so hard to please me that they ended up seeming stupid. I was never challenged intellectually—until you. And I loathed you for being as smart as me, no, smarter than me. But I didn't ever mention you again, not after they lashed out on me. They couldn't possibly have known that the small infatuation would turn into a full-on obsession in the next few years."

She watched as his eyes became distant, no longer looking at her.

"I'm glad I killed them," he continued, a cruel and merciless expression wrecking his features. "I'm glad they're dead because that meant there could be no one keeping you away from me." Hermione swallowed as he looked back at her, probably expecting to see fear in her eyes, but she kept her gaze neutral. "When the war continued, I was busy with other things, such as surviving and satiating my need for blood. But you were always in the back of my mind. I knew I had to get you, there was this incessant need to protect you, to keep you safe from Voldemort and the horrors he planned to unravel on Potter and you. But you were safe at Hogwarts, at first."

She shifted in his grasp and his arms tightened around her instinctively.

"And then I wasn't safe?"

Draco's lips formed a hard line. "I knew Voldemort was planning something at Hogwarts, but I didn't know what it was or when. I just knew I had to get you out of there, that you'd be safer with me in case something happened."

"Is that why you married me? Because you wanted me to be safe?" Hermione asked, the reality of his words hitting her like a bunch of bricks, making her dizzy. No one had ever done anything remotely similar to that for her.

"I was thinking of kidnapping you first," he admitted. "But I didn't want to traumatize you further considering my reputation. I had become ruthless by then, but I didn't want to scare you off. So I offered the marriage deal."

"How did you know I would agree to it?"

A corner of Draco's lips twitched. "Because you're an insufferable savior, Granger. I knew you'd want to save everyone even if that meant you'd have to sacrifice yourself."

Hermione didn't say anything, only reached out to caress his cheek softly. He took her hand and kissed the inside of her forearm, the Mudblood scar. This was the first time she didn't flinch from another's touch there.

"I swear to you," he whispered into her skin, his hot breath feathering over her scarred skin, "You will see the end of this war safe and sound, and after that, you will live a happy life with a good man, and all that happened up to this point will only seem a bad dream. A swear that I will slaughter everyone and everyone who tries to take that future away from you."

Hermione peered up at him, her eyes filling with tears for a third time that night, only this time for an entirely different reason.

She couldn't tell him that her future was holding her in his arms this very moment.