The tags have been updated for this chapter so please check them out before reading. Also I didn't use a beta for this one (surprise Bree!) and I only edited this once because I was so excited to give y'all another chapter! So hopefully there aren't too many mistakes in this one.
Soundtrack- "Sick and Tired (feat. Machine Gun Kelly and Travis Barker) by Iann Dior and "Don't Fall for Monsters" by DeathbyRomy
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NINE
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Four days. Four days and Hermione had refused to speak a single word to Draco. As far as she was concerned he had his chance to talk to her and he had walked out. He had left. Shutting her up in a cage in his dark bedroom for hours. And when he had come back he collapsed into the bed, locking the bars of the cage into place and rolling over without a word. She had to lay there next to him, breathing in the smoke from his robes.
It was acrid and smelled like burning hair.
But in the morning she woke up to his arms around her and her head tucked under his chin, curled up against his chest, holding onto those same black robes and feeling his chest rise and fall gently under them.
When she pulled away her hands were smudged black and Hermione wiped them all over Draco's fine sheets.
When he finally woke up, he let her out of the cage and walked her to the bathroom. Hermione slammed the door in his face, locking it manually as he shouted her name and beat his fists against the thick wood. She leaned back against it, feeling his blows landing like a beating heart as the door shook in its frame.
Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide and fearful and Draco roared on the other side of the door. He could unlock it with magic and storm in, but he didn't. Hermione stayed pinned against the door until she heard a final thud and a low stream of swears fading as he walked away.
She didn't wait another second to pull his shirt off of her, balling it up and throwing it on the floor as she hastily shoved the boxers down and kicked them into the corner. She didn't feel comfortable in just her undergarments, but she felt better than she had with Malfoy displayed on her.
Then she felt worse.
Crouching in his dry tub, Hermione hugged her legs to her chest and rocked herself, brushing up against the cold, white porcelain. She wanted to wash the smoke smell off of her. She wanted to scrub at her skin until she couldn't feel him touching it anymore. She wanted to sink down into the warm water and let it hold her the way she wouldn't let him.
But the faucet had no knobs. It only responded to magic and she didn't have a wand.
Her heart plummeted and she merely leaned against the side, letting the empty shell of the tub take the heat from her racing blood.
When she finally emerged after running her fingers through the knots in her hair and freshening up with some of the potions by the sink, Hermione looked around to see Draco sprawled out on the chaise, legs spread wide and arms thrown over the back like he didn't have a care in the world.
His eyes traveled down her body and back up again to where she was holding his clothes in a ball in front of her. She threw them at him as hard as she could and they landed messily in his lap.
Draco picked up the shirt with one finger and smirked. "Like you better like this anyways."
Hermione glared at him and marched over to the dresser and pulled open a drawer, ripping out one of the white undershirts in there. She quickly pulled it on. It was much longer than the Quidditch shirt and came to rest halfway down her thighs. Still shorter than she preferred to wear her skirts, at least it didn't have his name on it.
Pleased with her victory, Hermione turned around, folding her arms over her chest now that the shirt covered them properly and the action didn't push her breasts even more up and… together.
Draco's eyes never left her and Hermione felt herself beginning to blush under their gaze. She dropped her own down and saw at the foot of the chaise was a tray of food. She couldn't stop the rumble inside her at the sight of it- fresh fruit, hard boiled eggs, stacks of toast, and a carafe of juice.
She was starving. Beyond starving, Hermione was famished.
Draco smirked again, pushing the edge of the tray in her direction with the toe of his boot. "Hungry?"
She glared at him. Hermione hadn't seen food like that in months and all she wanted to do was swallow it whole. She was tempted to turn it over onto the floor and watch his smug smirk fall from his fine features, but she was so hungry and it was right there.
Hermione took a step forward.
"Yeah, you are, aren't you?" Draco leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. She took another small step. "Come on, kitten, don't torture yourself."
She stopped. Draco's eyes were gleaming bright, his mouth slightly open, and his hands sliding across the velvet cushion towards the tray. Everything about it, about him, screamed predatory to her.
But Hermione was not prey. Not for him, not for anyone.
She strode forward, chin held high and stopped in front of the chaise. Draco's smirk widened and he leaned back, patting the seat next him.
How lovely it would be to sit there beside him and enjoy the delicious breakfast while he put his arm around her, maybe twisting one of her curls around his finger. She would pop a piece of fruit into her mouth and Draco would run his thumb over her bottom lip and collect a drop of juice there and hold it out for her to take her mouth and suck it clean for him.
She snatched a dry piece of toast, threw Draco a sneer, and marched back to the bed, but before she made it she saw the windows that he had finally pulled the curtains back from to let the weak winter sun in. Thick bars crossed over them, breaking the sunlight into shards that fell brokenly at her feet.
Hermione paused, staring out at the snow covered grounds; crisp, white, and pristine. They were so high up. She couldn't tell how many floors exactly, but far enough to see across the sprawling grounds to a dark forest in the distance. If she had to run, she would have to make it across that wide expanse and try to lose him in the trees.
And then get lost and either freeze to death or have Draco come and hunt her down again.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" He breathed from behind her, ruffling a few wild strands of hair. Hermione took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes in a long blink. When she opened them one of Draco's hands was resting against the glass of the window, his arm stretched out beside her head. The other lifted to brush against her arm softly. "See, you'll like it here. Just give it a chance, pet."
Pet.
Hermione turned away from him.
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, Draco making a comment and Hermione glaring at him before returning to pretending he didn't exist and she wasn't here. He let her walk around the room, look out the windows, and examine the tapestries on the walls. They were all beautifully woven, but all scenes of ancient battles with blood, bodies, and bones.
She wondered if he had grown up seeing these scenes surrounding him. Had his Father told him stories about them? She didn't ask him even when his eyes followed her every movement, as if he was worried she would disappear if he looked away. Hermione spent the entire day in silence and spent half the night fighting with herself to stay on her side of the bed.
By morning she was tucked into his arms again.
Draco spent the next day yelling at her. He shouted awful names and laughed cruelly at her, promising her that she would break soon and the longer she held out, the harder he'd be on her. She glanced at the door, worried that someone would hear his rant and find her in here. She knew the Manor must be expansive, but Draco was bellowing.
He grabbed her face, turning it away from the door and back onto him.
"Think someone will come for you? Hmm?" There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and his fingers dug painfully into her cheeks. "You can put that thought right out of your pretty little head. This is my wing of the Manor; no one is getting in here. No one but me."
He shoved her back roughly, making her fall back against the side of the chaise as he took a long drink of amber liquid from a crystal tumbler.
Hermione held back her tears and bit her lip against the pain of her heart breaking with every beat. Later that evening when all she did was pick at her peas, Draco threatened to force the food down her throat. Hermione stared at him blankly and even though her stomach was cramping with hunger, she turned the plate over on the floor.
Draco grabbed her and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. Hermione screamed, beating her fists into his back only to find it so hard they bounced back off of it. The air was knocked from her as she hit the bed and Hermione lay stunned for a moment. It was all Draco needed to lock the chain around her wrist and as Hermione clawed at it, screaming like a banshee, Draco stomped through the overturned food and out of the door.
Hermione watched as Crookshanks ate pieces of roast chicken off the floor, purring happily.
On the third day, Draco woke up hungover and growled when she tried to untangle herself from him.
"Don't. Fucking. Move." His eyes weren't even open and he was already ordering her around.
Hermione wiggled until Draco's arms tightened around her so much that she found it a little hard to breathe. She had to admit, she was tired. Even on the run with Harry and Ron she had eaten more than she had since she arrived here and it was starting to wear on her. She felt lightheaded, even laying down, and knew she couldn't keep going on like this.
When he finally did let her up Hermione gasped when she glanced down at his groin and saw what was waiting for her there.
"Don't act like you're surprised." He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up to a sitting position, adjusting himself through his black boxer briefs. Hermione flushed with heat and looked away as he continued to rub it and cocked his head to the side. "If you aren't going to speak to me, you could always use your mouth for something else."
Hermione looked back over her shoulder to glare at him before pulling at her chain as loud as she could until Draco groaned loudly, holding his head.
"Okay, fucking hell!" he snarled and grabbed her wrist pulling it to his mouth again. Hermione tried to lean in to hear whatever he whispered to get the shackle to come off and locked eyes with him. She could feel hers widening as she watched the dark grey of his storm quietly. Before she knew it the chain fell to the bed with a low clank and Hermione yanked her arm out of his hand and ran off to the bathroom. Half an hour later the faucet to the tub turned on out of nowhere.
She knew it was him. But when she emerged, clean and washed, she only threw him a dark look and refused to thank him for the basics of human necessities.
He stayed in bed for most of the day while Hermione sat on the floor and pulled at a loose thread in one of the tapestries, trailing it around the floor for Crookshanks to chase. She thought about Harry. And Ron. And Ginny and Neville and Luna. Her parents. The Weasley's. Remus and Tonks. If they knew where she was, what she had done, would they even want her to come back?
That night while lying in bed, Draco pulled her to him again. Hermione moaned and tried to push him away, but he grabbed onto her wrists, hauling her back. She was pressed against the thin white shirt he always wore and Hermione felt like shredding it with her nails. They weren't very long because she had spent all her worried hours picking at them, but if he didn't let go of her soon, she would-
"It's only a matter of time."
Hermione froze, blinked, and then barely lifted her face up to look at him. He looked tired, worn out, and grey.
"You'll give in soon. I know you will."
Her breath caught in her throat and Draco ran his hand up her arm and around the side of her neck.
"Don't worry, Granger, I'll make it good for you." He kissed the top of her head and breathed in deeply. "My sweet girl. I could never stay mad at you, could I?" No… and she couldn't stay mad at him either. "Not when you look up at me with those big eyes of yours and tell me how badly you want my big cock in your tight little-"
Hermione shoved herself away from him violently, almost falling off the side of the bed. Draco watched her scramble as she righted herself back onto the bed, laughing in her face. Glaring darkly at him, Hermione picked up one of the pillows and threw it at him. He batted it away easily, laughing harder. But it wasn't the same one from before, this was light or jovial, it was laced with bitterness.
"Throw as many pillows as you want, Sweetheart, you'll be throwing yourself at me soon enough."
She resisted the urge to tell him to go throw himself from one of the windows and instead rolled over, tucking her chained arm under her head to try and get comfortable as she heard Draco settle down with a restful sigh.
He was right because when dawn broke and the grey light filtered in, Hermione found herself with her head on his chest and her body pressed against his. There was a throbbing ache between her legs and she tried to squeeze her thighs together when she realized his leg was in between hers.
She should move. Push herself away like she did every morning. She should not let him wake up and see that she had his leg in between hers and that… that… that- Oh God, it felt good. Hermione closed her eyes and stayed perfectly still as she felt her heartbeat increase until she thought she might burst, and then... slowly fade.
Only once there was a dense feeling of disappointment in her did Hermione move away; pulling the blanket off of her and letting her body cool down. She slid her hand over her stomach and felt it growl. She'd have to give in sometime, she knew it. And holding out like this was only making her weaker. She might not be able to fight Draco or have a wand to defend herself, but she still had her best weapon- her brain. She could outsmart him.
Or maybe, just maybe, she could somehow convince him to…
But no. That was what a foolish, naive schoolgirl would wish for, not the young woman who was fighting in a war to save her friends, her family. And… whatever Draco was to her too.
Anyways, it was useless to try and talk to him about that. Draco was cunning and could figure out a way to twist this around on her. Or he might just rile her up like he used to and once her blood was hot and racing he would reach out and touch her with his cool fingers and she would fall back into his arms, giving into what she wanted more than anything.
Hermione laid there, staring up at the silver threads of the embroidered stars until the beating between her legs faded again.
Thank Godric Draco was not a morning person.
She wondered how much longer he would stay locked up here with her. He had only left to return with another bottle of fire whisky, making sure the door locked completely before opening it and guzzling it down. But at least when he was here, the bars of the cage stayed down and sometimes he would even let her off the chain, watching her as she padded around his room, trying to dispel some of the pent up energy building inside her with each passing day.
But by the fourth day Hermione was too restless to sit still and she had a headache that wouldn't go away. Even the Pepper Up potion wasn't shaking the last remnants of her illness and she knew she would have to make some concessions soon.
But that didn't mean that she was the only one.
Draco was reading his old copy of "The Sacred Twenty-Eight" on the chaise when she approached him.
"If I am going to stay here, then I have a few demands."
"Demands?" Draco closed the book and cocked a brow up.
Hermione lifted her chin as he stood up. It was the first time they were standing toe to toe and, Goodness, he had definitely grown. She tilted her head back in order to look up at him. "Yes. Demands."
Draco folded his arms, looking vaguely amused and Hermione wanted to punch him in his smug face.
"Do tell."
She took a deep breath. "I can't just sit in this room all day. It's driving me crazy. I need something to keep me occupied."
He fought a smirk.
Hermione glared at him. She knew what was going on in his mind and what he would suggest to keep her busy, but she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of getting under her skin again and she had plenty of time to prepare herself for his conversation.
"I want books."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."
"I can give you a list."
"I can give you a library."
She blinked in surprise. A whole library? Just for her?
"I know how much you like to fuck in Libraries."
And there it was. Everything with him was a negotiation. It always had been. Tit for tat. Rewards for good behavior. Compromises and concessions until she had gotten so far from her base she had somehow wound up here, locked in Draco's bedroom.
"The list will do," Hermione replied firmly.
Draco shrugged, but she saw the stiffness in his shoulders. "What else?"
"I want to go outside."
"No." He didn't even miss a beat. The misty grey was gone from his eyes and in place was hard, sharp steel.
"I want," Hermione emphasized, "to go outside."
"I said no."
"I need fresh air, space to move! You can't keep me locked up here forever!"
Draco paused, his expression unreadable, but for a moment she almost got a hint of… understanding.
"It's not safe for you out there."
"I'm not a child."
He smirked again. "Trust me, I know."
Hermione straightened the sheet around her. "I want you to stop making comments like that."
"Can't help myself, Sweetheart."
"Try," she sneered.
"No thanks," Draco said nonchalantly. "It's the only way I can still make you blush that pretty Gryffindor shade of red."
Hermione took another deep breath and held it before she let it out. She needed to stay on topic; Draco was a master of distraction and if she didn't keep her wits about her, she would accidently agree to something she didn't want. Or even worse, something she did.
"I want to get out of this room."
"Granger," Draco sighed. "Give it up. I'm not going to let you-"
"Please, just for a little while. Just to give me a change of scenery."
He considered this. "I… can allow you into my study."
His study. Okay, that was a start, right?
"Okay."
"Only with me."
"Why?" she exclaimed. That meant she would only be able to go there when he decided and he would drag her back in here once he got bored. She didn't like the idea of having him escort her everywhere, she wanted autonomy. Hermione was about to argue when Draco cut her off.
"Granger, this is my private bedroom. My study is a more… public space. I conduct business there. Meetings. There could be visitors."
A jolt ran into her fingertips and then raced back up into her chest. "Visitors? I thought you said no one came into your wing of the Manor."
"I have… invited certain people in. They sometimes stop by."
"Who? Blaise? He knows I'm here."
Draco did not answer.
"Draco… who?"
He clearly did not want to talk about this. Too bad. There were plenty of things Hermione didn't want and she stayed silent until he answered. "Associates of mine."
Her heart dropped somewhere around her knees. "Death Eaters."
"Some of them aren't."
"Good to know not all your friends are ruthless killers," Hermione snarled.
Draco lowered his eyes and stared at the floor for a while.
"Anything else?"
Hermione continued. "I want copies of the Daily Prophet." It was nothing more than a propaganda machine for Voldemort's regime, but at least it was news. She had no idea what was happening outside these walls and it wasn't like Draco was telling her anything and she was sick with worry over her friends.
He looked back up at her and a faint smirk crossed his features. Hermione glared at him.
"Done."
Done? That was… easier than she expected. She guessed things were worse than she imagined if he didn't even mind her reading the Prophet. Nerves rattled down her spine for Harry. And Ron.
Hermione steeled herself before her next request. This one would certainly not go over as well as the previous one.
"I want to see Blaise."
Draco went cold, eyes turning as hard as iron. "You what?"
"I want," she spoke clearly and calmly, "to see Blaise. Every now and then. I want to speak to someone else and, I guess he's the best I can do right now."
Draco seethed and grit his teeth. "Blaise is the best you can do?"
She felt like the temperature had dropped a few degrees with Draco's cold anger hanging in the air around them.
"He's the best you can do!" Hermione argued back. "He's the only other person who knows I'm here and since you refuse to let me out or go or anything then yes! I want to talk to him!"
"Why?" Draco took a step forward, the first one he had through their entire negotiation.
Hermione stood her ground. "Because he's not you."
Draco stopped in his tracks, glaring at her. "Damn right he's not me."
Hermione tried to keep her hands from shaking, but it traveled all the way up her arms.
Draco ground his teeth. "You're not seeing another man. Not under my roof, not ever."
She knew it was a long shot, but she had taken it anyway. What did she have to lose? At this point, not much.
"Fine."
Draco watched her warily before slowly, very slowly, he seemed to settle. His shoulders lowered, his jaw unclenched, and his fists released.
"Then I want my clothes."
"I don't have them." Draco became very interested in the binding of the faded red leather book in his hands.
"Where are they?"
"I told you," he looked back up at her, "they were filthy."
Hermione placed her hands on her hips, bunching the fabric of the sheet there. "Then I want new ones."
Draco worked his jaw as he let his eyes slide down the length of her, slowly bringing them back up. Hermione was torturously aware that his undershirt did not cover much and that Draco was indulging himself in the sight of her. She hated herself a little for the tightness she felt deep within at the look on his face. She shouldn't still like that he looked at her like that. Why couldn't she hate him?
"I'll get you clothes, kitten." His voice was soft and deep when he spoke and Hermione ignored the rush of heat down her spine that shot straight into her center.
Or, at least tried to.
Another easy one. Hermione eyed him. What was he playing at? She would have plenty of time to think over it later. There was one more thing she wanted. Well, one more thing she was asking for.
"Lastly, I want a toothbrush."
"There's mouth cleaning potion in the bathroom."
"That's not what I asked for," Hermione stated. "I said I want a toothbrush."
"Why do you want that Muggle shit?" Draco snorted.
As a Pureblood, Draco must have grown up using magical replacements for almost everything that Hermione had grown up using. Mouth cleaning potion worked wonders, but Hermione had always felt comfort in still brushing her teeth. Not to mention having dentists as parents had ingrained the practice in her. The ritual of running it under water, the methodic movement, the taste of the sweet mint- no. Stop.
"I want a toothbrush, Draco Malfoy, and I want it RIGHT NOW!" Hermione stamped her foot on the ground, balling her hands into fists at her sides and not even caring that they were visibly shaking.
Draco looked a little taken aback and then… amused. The faint smirk spread a little wider, carving itself into his fine features.
"I'll see what I can do," he spoke softly, with a hint of humor in his voice.
"Good." Hermione pulled herself back together. "And I want the chains gone."
Draco cocked his brow up again. "I thought you said your toothbrush was your last request."
Hermione sneered at him. "I lied." Draco blinked. "Get used to it." Hermione gave him a wry smile and watched his expression fall into stoicism again. "And no more chains or cage."
He stood there, considering this behind his marble mask for much longer than Hermione felt comfortable with. What did he have to think about? They had already discussed everything. Was keeping her chained up that important to him? Yes. Probably. He probably got off knowing she was chained up next to him every night. And the cage, well… he had said it was for her protection too, but she wouldn't need protection if he hadn't brought her here. Or if he gave her a wand at least.
"Draco," Hermione prompted. She couldn't wait any longer.
"What color?"
Her brows pulled together in confusion. "What?"
"What color toothbrush do you want?"
Hermione blinked. Was this… a yes? Was he actually agreeing to her terms?
"Red."
Draco's lips tightened.
"You'll get green."
.
Draco woke up to pitiful little moans, whimpering and pleading as she tossed her messy curls into his face and buried herself into his arm. It was wrapped around her tonight with her back to his chest. His other was draped across her waist and his hand rested on her lower stomach. He couldn't help but think how close his fingers were to the warmth of her center when he curled them against the soft cotton of her knickers.
Granger moaned again. She was dreaming. Did this girl's brain ever turn off? Almost every night he felt her moving around, panting and whining. She would toss and turn and then pull herself against him, settling down once she was tucked close to him.
Where she knew she belonged.
And Draco, the gentleman that he was, would hold her, letting her busy brain wear itself out until she went quietly back into the silence of slumber; happy- inside his embrace.
But tonight was taking longer than usual and hearing her little noises was starting to wake him up. Really wake him up.
Goddamn it, if she didn't stop moving she was going to-
Oh, fuck yes… Her ass pressed up against his cock and she squirmed in that wonderful way she always did. Draco closed his eyes back, letting the feeling slip into his bloodstream and reach every last inch of him.
He opened his mouth wanting, needing, to latch it onto her. To sink his teeth into her soft skin and pull just enough to make those breathy moans turn into small screams. Her little wiggling would turn into convulsions and Draco would press his hand hard against the smooth skin between her hips and hold her to him so he could enjoy her rocking hips before sliding his hand down in between her legs and really give her something to shake about.
But as he went to tighten his hold on her, his arm started to burn from the inside out. The blood in his veins felt like poison, eating away at the muscles that contracted painfully and would not release from around the bone, making it feel like it was about to shatter inside him.
He was being summoned.
Draco let out a growling groan and felt Granger's movements still. She was awake. Of course she fucking was. She could sleep through nightmares, but not through one fucking noise of his.
Draco pulled his arm up, looking at the twisting snake slithering from the dead-eyed skull and he had the urge to Crucio the fuck out of it and hope that even a twinge of discomfort passed through whatever connection was braided into the brand.
Did the Dark Lord not own an owl? Draco would let him borrow Calix if it meant he didn't have to put up with this shit. Actually, no. Because the snake would probably eat it. Anyways, Calix was missing again.
Stupid bird.
He groaned as the pain increased and he heard her gasp, still wrapped in his arms. She had seen it moving, calling him to his Lord.
He had hoped she wouldn't have to witness that. Granger didn't deserve to have to see the skin turn an ugly shade of red before deepening into purple as it bruised from the force of the magic. He kept the rest of his scars covered, even while sleeping, but this one… Well. She already knew.
Didn't mean he liked her seeing him being called to his Master's side.
Draco rolled over and pushed himself up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, waiting for the pain to lessen so he could dress.
He heard Granger shift on the bed, turning towards him. Her chain moved with her. He would make this up to her. He would make this all right again. When he could. Then he'd give her anything she asked for. Anything. Everything.
The war would be over in a few months, maybe a year at the longest. And he would have the rest of his life to make things right with Granger. Even if everything else was wrong, he would make this right.
Draco pushed himself up and walked over to his wardrobe, summoning his clothes from it and slipping them over himself. In the mirror he could see Granger laying on his bed, watching him. He shrugged his cloak over his shoulders and tossed the hood up to hide his face in shadow. He picked up his mask, but didn't put it on yet.
Her big eyes stayed on him either way and Draco walked back to the bed to put on his boots. As he pulled them on, he heard her moving behind him again, the chain rustling as she adjusted her arms around her legs. Draco sighed. When he got back he'd take it off for the rest of the day. She'd like that.
He'd like that too.
He heard the chain moving again and he stood up quickly enough to still see her hand outstretched in his direction.
He waited for her to say something, anything. But all she did was look up at him with her innocent doe eyes and Draco could do nothing but stare down at her, sinking deeper and deeper into them. She really was beautiful. Cute little nose and plump pink lips. It almost hurt looking at her, knowing how smooth and soft her skin felt and not being able to fucking touch it.
"Draco-" She was looking straight up at him with big, innocent eyes and a parted mouth. "Don't do this."
For being so brilliant there was so much she didn't know. Or care to know because it didn't fit into her perfect little view of how the world should be.
His scars felt cold, lacing and crossing over his chest like… like chains.
"What do you think I brought you here for?"
He didn't know it was possible, but her eyes grew even larger, so fucking open and inviting. But if he ever wanted a future with her, he had to do this before climbing back into their bed and watching those same cinnamon eyes light up and burn for him.
Draco lifted the metal mask and slid it onto his face. Her face fell, lids fluttering and mouth turning small. She was still beautiful though.
He tucked the image of it carefully away within the white walls he was slowly building back up and walked towards the door, double checking the locking enchantments before heading out.
His Father was in the hall and Draco stopped short. There were silver streaks in Lucius' hair and his robes looked too big on him. His thin hands clutched at the silver snake head of his wandless walking stick. Why had the Dark Lord even called him? He had Draco now, and he only needed one Malfoy.
"Come," Lucius said. "We're late."
Draco followed his Father down the stairs.
.
This meeting was fucking ridiculous. Why the fuck he was pulled from bed to come here and listen to some asshole talk about a potential growing resistance in some country on the far side of the continent that Draco couldn't fucking remember the name of because the idiot wouldn't stop fucking talking even to the point where Draco was stifling yawns behind his mask.
Traveling all the way to Lancaster in the middle of the night was pretty much the last fucking thing he wanted to do. The Nott's ancestral home wasn't as large as Malfoy Manor and he felt cramped squeezed in the line of other black clad Death Eaters while Dolohov droned on and on and on.
He had always been bored when he came to play here as a child because Theo didn't have as many toys as he did. His Father had some trouble early on and while the Notts were always more than comfortable, Thaddeus had not been as successful as Lucius over the years. Draco wondered if that was why Theo was always so competitive with him.
Thankfully he wasn't here tonight or Draco would've had to stop slouching and actually pay attention instead of thinking about how Granger's ass had felt grinding against his cock. He probably would have come from that if his mark hadn't burned and he hadn't been summoned for the world's most boring meeting.
What did it matter to him if some backwater wizards were potentially, one day, perhaps going to be a problem for the Dark Lord's eventual regime? What, they couldn't fucking finish the war here before they went marching off somewhere else?
On second thought, maybe they should. Go fight somewhere far, far away and stop waking him up in the middle of the night to gossip about some place whose only contribution to the world was a halfway decent Quidditch team. Draco's lip curled under his mask as thoughts moved through his sluggish brain. They weren't that good. Hadn't even won the World Cup.
What had she even seen in that lump?
Didn't matter. She'd never see him again.
And he might not see her again if there actually was resistance; he could get sent abroad to fight. The thought stilled the blood in his veins and he blinked heavily a few times behind the mask, taking deep breaths to try and steady himself. No. No one was taking Granger from him or him from Granger.
But if he did get sent there, he'd kill that duck-footed motherfucker. Maybe he'd get a medal for loyalty after that too. Although he was certain that Granger would be less impressed with it than his Mother had been with his Father's. She had been so proud of him...
Draco was so deep into his own thoughts that Draco was startled when people started moving around him, shifting from lines on either side of the room to form a circle with Lord Voldemort in the center. It was a more formal formation and one that he rarely had them gather in unless there was someone to be tortured or killed.
Draco wasn't in the mood to torture anyone. He was tired and didn't fucking feel like it tonight. All he wanted to do was crawl back into his bed and wait for Granger to move back over to him in her sleep. He had been forcing himself to stay awake, just so he could feel her, hold her, love her. Like he imagined so many times lying there alone.
He thought it would be different once he got Granger back.
And it was.
It was worse.
He dragged his feet as he moved to his assigned spot in the circle. Next to his Father. Merlin, would he ever be free of him? Useless old man.
He sighed heavily, but low enough that it did to carry too far. Still, his Father had heard and cast him a hard look through his mask. Why were they wearing these stupid things? Merlin, he had no patience for the theatrics. Everyone knew who everyone else was, in fact-
Draco suddenly felt very much awake as he recognized the thick crop of dark hair sitting on top of the thrown back shoulders and puffed out chest. Too pleased, too proud. Too fucking boastful when he had nothing to brag about other than always coming in second.
Theo.
Theodore fucking Nott was here and kneeling in front of the Dark Lord.
No. Fuck- no. Draco wanted to shout, wanted to stop this. Suddenly the midnight meeting and the celebratory circle all made sense. Draco had stood in the middle of a somewhat smaller circle, but walked forward and knelt just the same. Of course, his had been rushed in the dirty back room of Borgin and Burkes, not proudly displayed in his family's home. Draco had bent his head, baring the back of his neck to a mass murderer and pledged his life, his death, and his soul to him.
And now Theo was about to do the same exact thing.
He felt like he might fall to his knees as well. This was impossible. Theo was still in school, he wasn't… he didn't…
Draco had taken the mark because he had to, but Theo… wanted to.
His dark blue eyes were bright with fervor and he eagerly pulled the sleeve of his robes up, baring the unblemished skin.
The Dark Lord's eyes glittered a deep, bloody red. He was getting another young soul. Another lifetime of service. Another slave.
Draco closed his eyes when the tip of the pale wand met with Theo's arm, but he could do nothing to block out the scream of agony that echoed around the circle, growing louder and louder until Draco thought his eardrums might burst with the sound of it.
He had heard Theo laugh, shout, talk, cry, and moan, but he had never heard him make a noise like that. What sort of scream had Draco let out? He couldn't remember anything but the pain of the brand, sinking deep into his arm, the magic tying itself into his body, binding it and him to his Master.
And now, Theo was too.
They could all feel it burning their own marks too. Some cried out, others grasped their arms, holding it close to them. He could hear his Father wheezing beside him. He clenched his fist tight and let the pain sear into him. It hurt, but, he'd had worse. Crucioing himself had given him a brand new threshold for pain and that was before he knew what it was like to have Granger so close yet unable to even fucking kiss her. So this… this was just another Thursday.
Draco watched as Theo fell back when the Dark Lord was done with him. He was gasping, heaving in breaths, unable to move.
One. Two. Three.
Theo groaned and struggled back to his knees. Draco watched his shoulders rise and fall with broken breaths and could see how gingerly he held his left arm, even if he was trying to appear unfazed. Theo looked up at their Lord.
"I am your servant."
The Dark Lord's blood red eyes bled down into him. "Arise, Death Eater. For now, you will know power great enough to conquer death."
Draco tasted something bitter in his mouth and wished he had a very full glass of Odgens to wash it down. Or her. She was better.
Lord Voldemort took a step back and the ceremony was ended. No one clapped or cheered, but many started to wave their masks away. The first to break the circle was Theo's Father who rushed forward, pulling his son up and clasping him roughly on the back. Others streamed forward, congratulating him and shaking his hand.
Draco's own initiation had been different. His Father had been in prison so there had been no one to help him up from his knees. He remembered pressing his hands into the ground, trying to lift himself and his left arm giving out, making him stumble forward.
Bellatrix had kicked out at him. "Get up!" she hissed. "Have you no respect for your Master?"
Draco gathered himself up, climbing back onto his long legs, still shaking from the force of the magic inked into his flesh. No one shook his hand or told him how proud they were of him.
One day, Granger would be proud of him again. Once she understood that this was the way to keep them together. He couldn't save everyone. He didn't even want to. He just wanted her.
"Draco!" Theo called out, his voice was strained, but excited and his eyes were almost glazed as they searched the still masked faces.
Draco pulled his mask off and threw Theo a grin. Theo took a few uneasy steps in his direction so Draco closed to distance with several long strides.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco asked as he gripped Theo's hand hard in his own.
Theo shrugged. "You know how it is; can't talk about it until it's done."
Draco's eyes darted down to the fresh brand on Theo's arm. It was burning a deep shade of red, imprinting itself forever in his flesh. Draco knew the pain he was feeling right now would lessen, but never fade entirely. There was only one way to stop being a Death Eater, and Draco knew Theo would never be able to do it.
He looked down to where his own mark was beneath his clothes and knew, he wouldn't either.
"Your Father let you leave school?" Draco asked, not wanting to think about that anymore.
Theo scoffed. "He didn't want to. But who cares about a few more months? What good is finishing school going to do for me? This is the future!" He waved his arm out, motioning to the room and the people in it. "And Carrow's been training me. He said I was the best student he had and who is going to care about Herbology out here? Hell no. I have all I need."
Theo rubbed his forearm gingerly.
"What about Pansy?"
"She really wasn't happy when I said I wasn't going back with her," he sighed. "She's gotten awfully… clingy. Fucking all over me. But it's only for a few months and then she'll be done and right here along with me."
Draco wasn't entirely certain what the burning cold feeling in his chest was, all he knew was he didn't like the idea of Theo and Pansy, fighting together, side by side when he had to chain Granger just to keep her around.
When did this change? When did Theo start getting everything he wanted? When did Draco start… losing? Failing...
That little Mudblood had fucked everything up for him. And she was a Mudblood. The word still turned his stomach, but there was no denying what Granger was. And the blood that beat in her sweet little heart was the reason he did have to keep her chained and caged. It was for her protection. And his own.
The cracks in his white walls trembled at the thought of something happening to her. It wouldn't. It couldn't. Not now.
Not ever.
"Looks like we'll be working together now." Theo's tone was a challenge and Draco met it easily with a dismissive snort.
Theo was the dumbest fucking fuck alive for coming here tonight. All for the power and glory the mark would bring him before it brought blood and pain and never ending torment. Draco made sure he sounded as dry as possible when he drawled, "Can't wait."
"Come on, let's celebrate!" Theo thumped Draco heavily on the shoulder. "Really celebrate." He wagged his eyebrows.
Draco looked around the room, black robes and cloaks pooling down from familiar faces he had known his whole life. He saw Corban Yaxley, pulling on his sleeve to try and cover what was left of his mangled lump of a hand and twisted knots of flesh that were his fingers. Draco felt sick, remembering the way the man had shrieked as the curse curled around each of his digits, breaking them until the bones were shattered and the fingers hung like limp fish.
He didn't feel like torturing anyone else right now. Well, no one but himself because his arm was still sore from being summoned and the longer he stood here with Theo the more it seemed to ache. Or maybe that was just his chest because he had only been gone for a few hours, but damn did he miss Granger already. He hoped she was asleep when he got back. She was so sweet when she was sleeping.
And such a pain in the ass when she woke up. Maybe she'd be in a better mood once she had her precious toothbrush.
"Can't," Draco answered easily. "Have some errands to run."
Theo snorted. "Seriously? What's more important than this?" He held up his forearm and Draco stared into the black eyes of the skull then slid them over to Theo's. "Come on! I need my friend to stir up some trouble with!"
Draco looked around the room at his fellow Death Eaters. People he had known his whole life, relatives, and now, friends. Sort of. Not really.
He didn't think he'd ever really be friends with Theo, not after what he said about Granger last year. Still, there needed to be some word for someone you had known your whole life.
There was a hungry in Theo's eyes, turning them a darker shade of blue while at the same time lighting them up from within. He wanted to prove himself. And he wanted to do that by besting Draco on his first night.
And Draco couldn't have that.
Granger had been wide awake when he left, staring at him with those innocent eyes that begged him not to go. She was probably sitting awake right now, waiting for him to come back. Why? So she could torment him again and tell him how wrong he was for leaving? For playing his part so that the people he loved could stay alive?
Let her wait.
She wasn't going anywhere.
And neither was Theo, not without him. If he thought he could just waltz in here after being some fucking Carrow's favorite student, Draco would show him what proper training in the dark arts actually looked like. Tonight. Theo had a right to know what he was in for and being such a good friend Draco was more than willing to show him.
Draco smirked. It looked like he was in the mood to torture someone after all.
.
"You can't be serious."
Hermione opened the bag Draco had thrown at her feet and pulled out almost sheer white lace… well it was too small to really be considered a dress, but that was the closest thing she could compare it to.
He had to be joking.
"This is not what we agreed on."
"Yes it is," he said calmly.
"I asked for clothes. I would never wear-"
"You didn't specify what kind," Draco interrupted, looking down at her smugly. "And never say never, Granger."
Hermione threw the scrap of lace and strangely smooth shopping bag full of similar scraps of fabric to the floor. "I refuse to wear these."
He shrugged. "Wear them or don't. Doesn't matter to me."
Indignation flared up inside her and she fumed at the small gleam in his grey eyes.
"In fact," Draco started towards her, tongue playing on his bottom lip as he let his eyes fall down her form. "I'd be perfectly fine with it if you decided to abandon clothing altogether."
He flashed her a smirk.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I am not going to play into your sick fantasy of-"
"Oh Granger, you've already played out my fantasies or don't you remember?"
The heat in her chest rose up into her cheeks, making them burn. She dropped her eyes down in embarrassment and saw that the blush in her cheeks was not the only instinctual response she had to him. Her nipples were hard. She didn't have to look up to know that Draco had noticed, the smart little "heh" he forced from this throat was more than enough.
"You think you can just dress me up for yourself? Fine," Hermione seethed. "Let's see how you like it when I wear your disgusting clothes and you aren't able to touch an inch of me."
A bit of the gleam died in his eyes and Hermione lifted her chin triumphantly. Bet he didn't think about that. She could wear anything, or nothing, but that didn't change their situation. A skimpy little outfit wasn't going to make her weak in the knees.
Draco composed himself quickly and adopted his arrogant smirk back. "As much as I'd enjoy watching you trounce around in lingerie, I like seeing you in my clothes too. Either way, you wore oversized sweaters and long skirts for years and that never stopped me from thinking about what was under them."
He picked up the lacy thing from the floor and ran it through his hands thoughtfully before sticking it back in the bag.
That bastard. He had done all of this on purpose. He had rigged the options. It wasn't a choice at all, but just the illusion of one. Wear lingerie for him or wear his clothes. Either way, he won. He got what he wanted. Just like he always did.
But he didn't just get to have her. Just because she was here didn't make her… his.
There were a million other things that made her his, but being trapped in his room was not one of them and Hermione gave in to the growling lion in her chest, wanting to rip that self satisfied smile off of his face with her claws.
"I hate you," Hermione's voice wavered, but her gaze stayed dark and heavy on him.
Draco smirked at her again, but this time it was cold. He shoved the bag back into her hands. "Love you too, Sweetheart."
.
Draco closed "The Sacred Twenty Eight" and sat it down on his desk. He had stared at it for hours, but could barely remember a single name he had read. He would try again in the morning, it was useless to keep going tonight. His eyes burned with sleep and when he ran his hand over his face, he felt the prick of stubble along his jaw.
It was late. The black candle sitting on his desk was almost burned down. He had left Granger on her own all night.
She deserved it though. All she ever did was complain and shoot him angry looks. Her little glaring pout made her narrowed eyes burn as she snapped at him for… something or another. It was always something. So Draco would just look back at her and let her eyes burn into him and remember all the times she had that exact same expression, the same furrowed brow, the same pinched lips…
It never lasted, not when he would pull himself up to his full height, let out a long, low breath and raise one brow up in suggestion. Granger would blush, and fuck, Draco would feel a jolt straight to the tip of his cock right before she looked away, pretending that she wasn't creaming herself at the same fucking thoughts that were running through his head too.
He had half a mind to dive into hers, dredge up every dirty little detail she had tucked in there and make her see them, feel them, all again.
Draco thought being away from Granger was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but being this close to her was a thousand times worse. It was maddening. She was everywhere. In everything. Her vanilla cinnamon scent was all over his bed, all over him. She was always there in the corner of his eye, even when he tried to look away which he didn't do often because looking at her was still the one thing he could do and even though it was torture… Well, that was Draco's specialty.
Draco looked down at his arm. Maybe he should do it. Just… just a little. Just enough to make the ache between his lungs fade a little. He hadn't touched his arm since he had gotten to hold her with it again. But tonight… tonight he felt so terribly alone, maybe even more alone than he had before she had gotten here because at least then he had the happy little Granger in his head to tease and please and for a few short moments the world wasn't like this.
It was just Granger and him. The way it fucking should be. Not how she had made it by running and hiding and then treating him like he was some kind of monster when everything he had done, everything he was doing, was all for her. For their future.
Because they'd have one. No matter how short it might be, they would be together until the end. And then…
Draco sighed and flexed his arm, watching the muscles and tendons move under the mark before pulling his sleeve back down. If he Crucio'd himself and passed out in here he wouldn't be able to hold Granger tonight. It was all he had now.
This is what the last six months had bought him. A girl he had to keep chained up who wouldn't even say she loved him, even once, just so he could hear it. Just so he could know that he had done the right thing. For her.
Having her was the only thing that did still feel right. Going out with Theo, getting pissed and trashing Leaky had been fun but after Draco had felt disgusted at what they had done. The old bartender had begged them to stop, shouting and pleading. Draco had merely laughed and aimed his wand at the bottles stacked behind the bar, shattering them and making glass rain down on the old man who covered his head and scampered away into the back to let Theo and him have their fun.
When Draco got to the booth he had shared with Granger he was out of breath and his grin slowly slipped away. If he knew a year ago that he would be standing here staring at it and feeling like this, would he still have sat here and watched as Granger tested him out, and herself, and found that she liked it? Liked him? Liked what they could be together?
He thought he knew the answer, but Draco thought a lot of things.
Too many things.
He needed to sleep. Draco walked from his desk, scratching at his chin and muttered the incantations to unlock the door. As he stepped in the room was bathed in a low light as the lamps on the wall adjusted themselves to his presence.
Granger was already asleep. He was almost surprised to find her in the bed because he had taken her chain off earlier and left the bars of the cage down so she could have free reign of his room. He half expected her to be waiting by the door with something large and heavy to hit him with and try to escape. It was a nice surprise that Granger was sleeping soundlessly with the duvet draped over her hips so that he could see that she had in fact put on the little lace dress he had bought for her.
Draco ignored the fact that he had taken his shirt back from her and magically locked all the drawers and the wardrobe so she had no other choice. He chose to focus on how it looked on her, how the white lace complimented the natural hues of her skin. How soft it looked on her, how… sweet. Innocent. Pure.
Draco kicked off his boots and shrugged himself out of his shirt, tossing it on the arm of the chaise where Crookshanks raised his head and meowed at the disturbance.
"Hush," Draco whispered harshly. "If you wake her up, you have to deal with her bitching too."
The cat flicked his stupidly fluffy tail and Draco sneered at him, baring his teeth as he stepped out of his trousers.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and felt his heart beat harder as Granger's chest softly fell in breath. How could she still look like that even after doing every single filthy thing he had asked her to? She was perfect. Beautiful. His.
She sighed and turned her face towards him, her caramel curls moving slightly around her as she situated herself in sleep.
If this was all he got, then it was what he would take. He wasn't going to give her up. Not when she looked like this, not when she was this. His sweet girl who couldn't help what she was born as anymore than he could help who he was born to. None of this was her fault and she didn't deserve to be hunted and captured and judged on her blood.
He was saving her from that. Better she hate him then him hate himself for letting her die in some cage, alone in the dark.
She'd never been alone now and neither would he.
Draco pulled his shirt over his head, feeling his heart pound beneath the scarred skin. Even though Granger had seen them before he hadn't bared them to her again. Draco had hid the Sectumsempra scars under his white shirt and the clawed scar on his leg under his black boxer briefs. She shouldn't have to see how fucked up he was now. But tonight, her eyes were closed so Draco let the black fabric fall next to the white before climbing into the bed beside her.
He was excited and nervous all in one. Laying on his back, looking straight up as he pulled the same covers she was under over himself. They were warm and knowing that it came from her body's heat was enough to send a rushing pump of blood into his cock, making it harden with nothing more than the thought of her.
His throat felt tight and the lump in it bobbed up and down as he tried to keep his breathing quiet. His heart was beating so loud he was concerned the sound of it might wake her, But Granger slept on; her little hand tucked up around her face and her legs curled under the duvet. He wondered if she was cold and reached out to touch her hand.
Fucking hell, touching her right now was either the best idea or the worst. Draco had to bite back a groan as his cock stood up, straining against the covers.
She was warm and soft and goddamn it- why couldn't this hand stroke him just like she had that night at Leaky? Fuck. He would give almost anything to have her touch him, just once. Draco pulled her hand away from her face just enough to slide his own around it, threading their fingers together while at the same time, reaching down and gripping himself with his opposite, just holding it while it throbbed at the feel of her hand in his.
He couldn't help it. It was wrong and he fucking knew it. Knew that this was crossing some sort of line, but fuck it felt so good as he started to move his fist up and down.
Just a little, he told himself. Just enough to alleviate some of the pressure crushing his spine. Just… a little… fuck.
Draco was moving faster now, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and trying his best not to crush Granger's hand in his as he stroked himself, up and down his length before feeling the tense curling in his lower stomach and moving up to just rub the head lightly.
He was choking on his own breath; head pushed back into the pillow which softened under him. Draco could feel his palm starting to sweat against hers and thought about letting go, but fuck, touching her while touching himself was the best he had in months and he swore on Salazar's watery grave that he would die before he let go.
Granger made a soft moan and Draco's head turned abruptly towards her. There was a small crease between her brows like she used to get when she was reading something in the library and he was watching her through the stacks and her mouth opened to let out a soft breath that Draco felt on his fingers and-
Oh shit.
She was moving. She moaned again and Draco's cock jumped at the sound, but then she twisted her body, pulling her hand away from his and turning over.
Draco inhaled, waited for three seconds, and blew it out heavily.
It was a sign. He had said he'd only do this just a little and he had. Draco stretched out his arm across the bed so he could feel the heat she had left behind and with all the fucking control he had left his body, brought his fist back down to the base and was about to let go when Granger shifted again.
He was shaking. Fucking shaking. Because Granger had turned back around and rolled close to him like she did every night and holy fucking shit she was pressing herself up against him and resting her head on his shoulder and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
Her hand slid across his abdomen, over his scars like they weren't even there, and it felt so fucking good- goddamn amazing- to have her touch his body again.
Draco let out a shaky breath and looked down at her curled up against him, around him and…
Fuck it.
If this was all he was going to get, he was going to fucking take it.
His hand started moving again and Draco had to grit his teeth together to stop from making noise because if he thought holding her hand while he beat off was good, having her hold him back was… ecstasy.
Granger relaxed against him and Draco brought his arms around her to hold her tighter, so that every inch of her that could be touching him, was. If he was going to go to hell then he was going with a first class ticket.
He was a Malfoy after all.
His breathing was becoming erratic, his body tensing with each stroke, each touch. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to sink his fingers into her hot core, feel the wet warmth inside her. Wanted to lick, suck, and bite her tits, pulling on her nipples with his teeth until she was whimpering and crying.
"Draco…"
Oh fuck-ing hell.
His eyes flew open to see that she was still asleep. She hadn't even moved, not an inch, nothing more than the gentle brush of her lips against his skin as she said his name. His name. In her soft little sleepy voice she said his goddamn name.
It was enough. All he needed. All he ever needed, right here.
Draco's legs straightened and hardened, still pressed against her hot fucking thighs and his fingers curled, pulling at the sheer lace on her hip until he felt it tearing in between his fingers, but didn't stop, couldn't stop because he was coming and oh… fuck…
Draco made sure to catch it in his hand so that none of it landed on the arm she had wrapped around him. Still, he let himself empty, coaxing every drop he had built up out of him before awkwardly grappling with his wand to vanish it while trying not to disturb her.
He dipped his head down, sliding his nose against her curls and breathing her in as he caught his breath.
The guilt began to set in right as his eyes closed. She was going to be furious with him when she woke up in the morning and found him naked. He should put the chain back on or at least charm the bars up.
But this felt so good. His girl, in his arms, in his bed. Like he always imagined it would be. He wanted to stay like this all night. Forever. Just him and her. No one else. And for the next few hours, Draco could have everything he wanted.
Hermione shifted a little, getting herself even closer if that was possible. And it was. Because right now, anything felt possible. Even a world where this was how they spent every night. Draco kissed the top of her head.
"Goodnight, Sweetheart."
.
She waited until the sun was up to move back to her side of the bed. Hermione had only dozed in and out the night before. After Draco had… done that, she had lain awake with her eyes closed, hoping it was all a dream, then wishing she had done it herself.
She wasn't entirely sure why she pretended to be asleep or why she even let him do that next to her, other than… she had wanted to.
Dawn came and went without bringing any revelations as to why she was okay with what he had done and even less on why the thought of it had made her ache with arousal. She had wanted to tell him, even said his name, but then… then her courage and pride battled and her pride won out. If she gave in once, just once, she knew she wouldn't be strong enough to claw her way away from him.
And as much as she wanted to hide here away from the war she knew she wasn't able to. Not when there were horcruxes still out there and that Harry was probably alone and fighting on his own. What sort of future could they have if Voldemort was not defeated? What sort of lives could they lead? They could never be together, not the way she wanted, that she needed and that she hoped Draco, deep down, wanted too.
Hermione fingered the torn lace at her side, pulling at the find strings until the edges were frayed. She bit her lip until it was bruised. The chain lay still on the floor beside the bed and the bars of the cage were still retracted. Draco was sound asleep beside her. He had held her all night and she swore she felt the love he claimed he had for her in his arms.
Hermione's eyes slid to the table on the other side of the bed where Draco's wand lay. She could do it. She could take the wand, try and break out and in the early morning hours, probably meet little resistance. She had been mapping out the grounds in her head as she stared out the window, making mental notes on the paths the elves took to the stables and kennels and potential hiding places along the way to the forest on the far end of the lawn.
She could take his cloak, his boots, charm them to fit her well enough to just get her out.
Hermione looked from the wand to Draco's face, so soft in sleep. No cold, hard marble now, just… just him. How she remembered him. How she wanted him. No mask, just Draco.
Pulling the covers up to her chin Hermione blinked away hot tears that formed in the corners of her eyes.
Draco was right. She was going to give in.
.
A/N: Your comments and your support mean the world to me. I can't express what it means when I see that people like and are connecting with this story. I love you all, so SO much.
xx, Ik.