It took Hermione several heartbeats to realize three things.
First, she had a terrible headache. Second, she was very warm and very comfortable. Third, there was a large penis pressed against her backside. She blinked a few times and looked down to see Malfoy's forearm across her stomach, holding her firmly to him. She didn't mind it a bit - which she chalked up to the depression from the monster. Otherwise, she would mind. She'd be furious. She was sure.
But his cock was quite insistent. As she lay there, feeling his even breathing against her neck, it twitched. On the one hand, it was understandable. She knew people with penises often experienced erections in the morning. But on the other hand - it was a little odd because . . . she had thought he would only get aroused while getting her off. That made sense - a naked woman, writhing and moaning in his lap would probably turn most men on. Even if he didn't find her attractive. Or desirable. Even if he hated her.
Well, hate was perhaps too strong a word. She didn't think Malfoy hated her anymore. He'd not been afraid of her blood, and he'd spent a lot of effort lately trying to make her comfortable. So - no, not hatred.
If he hated her he would have probably forced Nott to enter the one way path into this cavern to play chaperone and keep him entertained. He could have tied her up and tortured her. Actually, he could have done the worst thing imaginable - ignored her when she was in the depths of despair from the monster's magic. She shuddered. That would truly be unforgivable.
It slowly dawned - Malfoy had done the opposite of all that. She played through the past several weeks. How he made up her plates. When he handed her hot cups of coffee. The gentleness of his hands on her skin, coaxing pleasure. She reached down and laid her fingers over his.
The movement must have woken him because he gave a yawn and stretched, moving off of and away from her. "Merlin, Granger, didn't take you for a bed hog."
"I am not." She turned to him indignantly.
He smirked. He didn't look a bit tired - his eyes were bright and open. Actually, he looked like he'd been awake for quite some time.
She frowned. "I believe this is my side. And in fact, it's the very side you are currently on."
He grunted disagreeably. "I think I tried to push you away in a vain attempt to get myself a little space, and you trapped my arm."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you don't mind, I need to excuse myself." She climbed over him, shoving his shoulder pointedly, and went toward the bathroom. She could feel him watching, and shot him a look of derision over her shoulder as she closed the door.
He laughed. "Take your time. Let me know when you're ready for a bath."
She confirmed she did not need another one of Draco's baths - her witch times were almost finished, thankfully - and awkwardly told him so while he poured her coffee and handed her a hangover potion. He nodded, avoiding her eyes, and stuffed toast in his mouth. They were swapping sections of the Prophet over eggs and fruit when visitors arrived unexpectedly.
"Oi!" shouted Ron. Hermione jumped to her feet, heart pounding. They would not have come unless there was news - right? Malfoy must have thought the same - he was at her side in an instant, big and imposing. She leaned into the barrier, the magic of it making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It felt terribly unpleasant.
Ron paused in front of Harry's archway, greeting his sister fondly. He looked - different. He'd had a haircut, and must be using some kind of product. It was brushed back in the style of the professional Quidditch stars. And his clothes - new. Expensive. Tailored slacks and a fitted jumper. They were things Draco might have worn, if he ever put on color. Who was this man?
Pansy, beside him, noticed her staring. "He's had a proper glow up, hasn't he?" She laid a hand on his arm and he turned to see Hermione. Ron ducked his head, acknowledging her. Pansy, meanwhile, smiled like a cat over its cream. She was a child with a new toy, hoarding it away.
"Hermione, are you all right?" Ron asked softly, kindly. Pansy looked at him sharply. "How are things?"
"I'm fine," she answered flatly. "What's the progress?"
"Yes, what's the progress?" That was Harry, who sounded, at best, frustrated.
Ron nodded. "Pansy has the report." And he took a step back, gesturing to her to continue.
Pansy, looking like a model in a matching top-and-shorts set that appeared to be crafted from dragonhide, hemmed a bit until Malfoy told her darkly to get on with it. She launched into a lengthy explanation of all the places they had looked -
Hermione could barely breathe, waiting for the punchline. Was this it?
"But unfortunately," Pansy faltered.
"You found . . . nothing." Malfoy was quiet.He was scary when he was quiet.
"Not nothing," said Ron. "Pans was about to say we interviewed an elderly hermit who lives nearby. He reported a story, Draco. That many years ago, during Muggle wars, the Malfoys came and stayed in this cave. For nearly a year."
"A year?" yelped Ginny.
"He said they were trapped down here - until the conflict was over. It rattled them so much they never came back and sealed it off for decades."
Malfoy was practically quivering with frustration. She could feel it, vibrating off of him. "But how did they get out?"
"He didn't know," Pansy conceded. "But - that's the most we've learned. So - maybe there's some kind of-"
"Danger," Hermione said softly. There's a danger.
Pansy and Ron exchanged A Look. She swallowed her disgust. "That's what we're thinking."
Malfoy's arm brushed against hers - she resisted the impulse to lean into him. That would feel good, she thought. To relax into his body. To have him hold you up. To protect you from old boyfriends and their sexy new girlfriends and the bad news they deliver. She wished she could have a hug.
"I believe the last time you came, I told you not to come back until you knew the answer. This is just more of the same as far as I'm concerned. And - quit talking to people who might recognize you. I don't want word getting out about where I am."
Ron snorted. "Okay, mate."
"I'm not your mate."
Pansy stepped in. "Draco, we have some theories. Based on what this man said, there is no known secret code. No key for this lock. No release spell." She held her hands up, open. "There is something external - something beyond our control."
"Pans?"
"Yes?"
"Get out."
She sighed, tossing her dark hair. "We've done our best, I promise. You don't believe me, but we really have."
Hermione looked at him. His eyes were vengeful, his jaw pulsing. He leaned slightly into the magic holding them in, testing, always, for a weakness. She knew it must pain him to feel it - it hurt her to simply stand this close.
Harry was asking questions, for details about exactly what the man said. Hermione tuned it out. They were never going to get out of here. She'd be fired, and she'd die, and her parents would never see her again.
After what felt like forever, Ron and Pansy started to say goodbye. Ron looked at her with sad eyes. "I won't stop looking, Hermione. No matter what he says. I won't give up on you."
"We won't stop looking," said Pansy pointedly. She bumped Ron's shoulder with hers.
"We," agreed Ron.
"Thanks." But Hermione didn't feel grateful.
"We appreciate it." Draco hadn't spoken in a long time. He bumped his shoulder into hers. "Don't we?"
Pansy laughed. "Nice one. Hopefully we'll be back again soon with better news."
When they were gone she turned to him. "You didn't have to do that. I wasn't upset or anything."
"Not jealous?" He was spinning his wand, distracting himself.
"No. Ron seems - like he's doing well, actually."
"Parkinson loves a project."
Hermione snorted. "I can tell. She's got him doing his hair and everything."
He smirked. "Sure you aren't jealous?"
"I'm sure. What was between us - it ended a very long time ago."
He hummed, smoothly tossing his wand and catching it again. "Are you seeing anyone now?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I work - worked - a lot. Why do you ask?"
"Just want to make sure I won't have some crazy boyfriend, bent on revenge, stalking me when this is done."
Hermione burst into laughter. Loudly.
Malfoy dropped his wand.
"No," she said, wiping at her eyes. "No." The very idea of it - a boyfriend, out to defend her honor and try to punish Draco Malfoy - was hilarious.
He was staring at her, eyebrows raised.
"It wasn't, like, a crazy question," he said without force.
"Okay." She laughed again.
In the afternoon they sat side by side on the couch, passing encyclopedias of spells and history and magical theories back and forth.
Nott had sent snacks, and she nibbled on chocolate frogs that Malfoy slid into her hand. Now that her appetite had returned, he seemed determined to make her gain two stone. "I barely move my body," she'd protested a few days before. "I don't need any candy."
"Have another frog," was his only response.
She often read aloud a passage of interest, and sometimes Malfoy would. Harry and Ginny were doing the same thing and got everyone all excited when they yelled out that they maybe had found something - except wait, no, nevermind, they hadn't. After a while they fell silent and she smiled to herself - another silencing charm. She looked forward to exchanging stories with Ginny when this was ov-
"What are you so happy about, Granger?" he asked. He'd just stood to stretch. His shirt rode up in a flattering way, highlighting the ripples of his stomach.
"Nothing."
"Come on, I'm bored. What's so funny?"
She met his gaze and cast a speaking glance toward Harry and Ginny's room. Whispered, "I'm just thinking about when we get out of here and I can get the whole story of how things are going with Ginny and Harry." She smiled again and did a little wiggle.
Malfoy was dumbfounded. In a state of apparent shock. She waited and, getting nothing in return, said, "Well - won't it be lovely? She's going to be so happy."
"Granger," he mock-whispered back. "I think it's working."
"What d'you mean?"
"You're excited about something. Looking forward to something. And you laughed, earlier."
Hermione reeled back. She blinked. She was looking forward to a debrief with Ginny. And getting out of here. "I think you're right," she agreed, slowly. "It is working."
She found it while he was in the loo.
She was reading an old book defining magical terms. They were in alphabetical order, short paragraphs, and her eyes skipped from thing to thing.
Carrot stems. Useful for - no.
Chronic cough. May be a sign of poison - no.
Cold brew. Potions prepared during the first frost of the winter - no.
Compulsive caverns. These rare caverns can be found on the lands of certain old wizarding families who are still the holders of properties granted to them from the beginning of magic. Such caverns protect the families and those whom they harbor. Though ancient, the magic of such places is very simple; requiring no incantations or spells, the cavern responds to the needs of the family which compels it. This form of magic can both contain or exclude as desired. It is controlled most often by the head of the family but any member with blood and proximity may wield its power.
She read it three times, heart pounding.
Compulsive - hmmm.
Rare - indeed. She'd never heard of magic that worked the way this cave did.
On the lands of old wizarding families - the Malfoys certainly qualified. The oldest of families.
Had their lands been granted from the beginning of magic? She'd have to ask him.
Hermione rose and went and knocked on the bathing chamber door, the book heavy in her hand.No answer. She knocked again. "Malfoy?"
He made a sort of odd noise. "What is it? Don't come in." He sounded strained.
"I - I think I found it. An answer for the cave."
He swore and she heard the slosh of water. The door was wrenched open abruptly. He was dripping a puddle on the floor, a towel loosely gathered around his waist. Very loosely.
"Well?" His face was flushed and his expression decidedly irritated at the interruption.
"Um, do you want to dry off first?"
"Granger, you called me out of the bath and away from a blissful wank for something obscure in a dusty old book. I plan to get right back to it as soon as you share whatever it is."
She looked up at him with wide eyes. His hair was plastered pleasantly across his forehead. Rivulets of water ran down his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones, his chest. Which was - very close. "Right, sorry." She swallowed and turned back to the page. She read him the passage and held it up up so he could look at it himself. His lips moved in time to his own reading, and she watched them with interest.
He looked down at her when he finished. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?"
Hermione flinched. She snapped the book closed and turned on her heel.
He audibly sighed behind her. "I didn't mean it like that. It's good that you found it. It's just -"
"Go back to your wank. When you're done with that, if you have time, perhaps you can puzzle over the magic that you, as a Malfoy, apparently control." She dropped the book on the tea table and crawled into the alcove. She curled up on her side.
Malfoy went back into the bathing chamber. She expected to hear the splash of water as he got back into his bath, but he returned a moment later in joggers and a jumper, hair still wet. He had towel dried it - it stuck up and around every which way so he looked rather unlike himself. Seeing it did something strange to her stomach.
"I'm just frustrated, is all." He picked up the big book, flipping to the passage she'd found. He studied it some more and read the pages before and after. But she'd already done that, and knew he wouldn't find anything else.
She said nothing. He could apologize if he wanted to make it right.
"What do you think it means?" He frowned at her.
She shrugged a shoulder obstinately and stared right back at him, face blank.
"Fine. I'm sorry, Granger. I shouldn't have snapped at you." He waited for her response. "Will you tell me what you think this means?"
Having spent the last several weeks together, she knew that was the best she was going to get. "Honestly, it sounds like Ron was right - there's something about this place that's keeping us in here. But it might be . . . you."
He scoffed. "That's bollocks. I think I'd know if I was controlling this bloody door." He gestured at the impassable archway. "And why would I want to be down in this dark, musty shithole, with - no offense - the Ginger, and Potter, and you?"
Offense taken. She would have to ponder that later - how it felt to hear him say it. She knew it was true, of course. She knew he didn't care about her, didn't like her. They were in this predicament, this prison, out of happenstance. But - it hurt.
She wouldn't let him see. "I don't know. Are you worried about something out in the world?"
His head was bent over the book. "No. Why would that matter?"
"It said the caverns protect the families. So I'm just trying to think of anything that could prompt this. Like that old hermit said - a danger of some kind." She fell silent. It didn't make sense. Malfoy's father was away in Azkaban - he couldn't compel them to stay here. The book mentioned proximity. And his mother didn't have the Malfoy blood nor was she the head of the family.
But - of course.
The creature.
She sat up. "Malfoy, I think we got pulled in because you were protecting yourself."
"From?"
She gestured at her face. The dark circles and sallow skin and sadness at the corners of her mouth. "The thing. That attacked us."
His mouth opened slightly. Ready to argue. Except - he didn't. He stared.
"Read it again," she urged. "The cavern responds to the needs of the family which compels it. It can contain or exclude as desired - this cave keeps us in but lets us access what we need."
Malfoy looked down and read it again. His lips, moving. Such caverns protect the families and those whom they harbor.
He looked vaguely horrified. "I - I don't know. I need to think. It doesn't make sense." He dropped the book and began to pace, running his hands roughly through damp hair, setting it even more askew.
"Are you sure?" she asked gently. "I mean, it kind of does make sense. You witnessed the aftermath of the creature's attack. You brought me back here. Maybe - maybe the magic could sense your fear-"
"I was not afraid," he snarled, turning on his heel and taking the eight steps past her. "I hear your theory and it's wrong. I was annoyed. It was irritating that I had to deal with you."
She leaned back as if slapped.
"Your little hypothesis falls apart at step one."
Hermione would not let him win. He was being mean, lashing out. Defensive - because he knew she was right.
"No," she said firmly. "You may not have consciously felt fear, but some part of you must have known there was a danger. Must have sensed the risk. So when you entered these rooms, you triggered the protection. It sealed you in. I just happened to be here."
The cavern was protecting the Malfoy bloodline. She was just collateral damage.
He stopped in front of her, grey eyes glinting. "That doesn't explain Potter and the Ginger." His voice was calm. Scary.
"I don't understand the boundaries and nuances. What I know is what's on that page. But maybe there's a kind of blood magic boundary line, and you walked across it or someth-"
"That's fucking stupid."
"Don't swear at me."
"Don't say stupid shit."
She lay back down. "I haven't and you know it. This cave is holding us hostage because something in the magic suspects you're in danger. You may not be aware of it, but that book says you control it - that the cave responds to your desires. So maybe subconsciously-"
"Don't. Say. It." His tone was a blade, cutting her off.
"Hermione?"
It was Harry's voice. Louder than she'd heard it in weeks. Almost as if -
"Harry?" She stood, knowing the answer before she saw. She walked to the archway. Malfoy was on her heels.
Harry stood just outside - he was out. "I could feel it. The magic in our room - it just dissolved. We're -" he laughed, disbelieving - "we're free."
She stepped forward, a hand outstretched to him. Maybe -
But - the familiar pressure in her spine, the promise of pain in her head. The force holding her back. Not free. Not her. Not Malfoy. Not all of them.
"No, Harry. Our barrier - it's still here."
Her old friend frowned, stepping near to test it himself.
"Don't come closer!" Hermione shrieked. "Please. Don't risk it. You just got out. Stay away until we figure out how you did it."
Harry frowned, confused. "That's the thing. I didn't do anything. Gin and I were laying there. I was reading, she was resting. There was a ripple of magic at the door and then I could feel it. That we were released."
"Just now?"
Harry nodded, his gaze switching from her to Malfoy. She could feel him standing behind her. Tense.
She turned and looked at his face.
He scowled. "A coincidence."
No. It was too great. She pressed her lips together. He knew, and he knew she knew.
Malfoy had some control.
But his expression - ashamed. And conflicted. She could see it all, in the set of his mouth and his eyebrows and the clench of his jaw. He was coming to the same conclusion she had.
She turned back to Harry just as Ginny emerged and stood silently in the door beside him. He took her hand automatically, reassuringly, and Hermione's heart thudded. Finally.
"Oh Hermione." Ginny wiped at a cheek. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay." She forced herself to sound bright. "We're doing well. I'm much better." She turned her body in a quick circle, her hands up and open, extended. Proof.
Harry was unconvinced. "At best I can say you're vertical and apparently not dead due to dehydration or starvation. Thanks, Malfoy."
"Stop it, Harry." She kept her voice neutral. "Draco's been very patient with me. He's -"
"I can speak for myself. Bugger off, Potter." He edged ever so slightly closer to her side. "You can see for yourself she's improving. Just listen to her. Look at her. And for the record," she felt his gaze shift to Ginny. "Granger took the brunt of that monster's attack. To protect you. So she was far worse than you ever were."
Ginny looked like she might be sick. "I - I thought maybe -"
It was Hermione's turn to interrupt, and she whirled on Malfoy. "How dare you? That was private." I trusted you, she meant, and he knew it when their eyes met.
He didn't even flinch though, just smirked haughtily. "It's true." A low voice, meant for only her to hear.
"It's alright Hermione." They all looked at Ginny. "I suspected as much. And when you're out, I'll properly thank you." She smiled a watery, sad smile. "I'll make it up to you."
Hermione didn't want that, though. She wanted Ginny to get better, and get out of this dreadful cave, and never break up with Harry again. So she told her that, and a silence fell.
Harry was still holding Ginny's hand, and he used it to pull her closer, into his side. He slid that hand around her waist. "I promise."
Ginny looked over her shoulder at him, unsurprised, and smiled. "We promise."
Oh. Hermione felt - a tug. In her chest. Not pain, or joy. She supposed she was rueful. And relieved. Those two were meant for each other - it was about time.
Malfoy broke the silence. "Well, that's very droll. What's the plan?"
"They're going to leave." Hermione said it, her voice unwavering. "Don't go back in your room. Summon what you must and get out. Help Ron and Pansy figure out what this creature is - what the danger could be. With your supervision I'm sure we'll be out in no time."
Harry looked like he wanted to fight about it but she smiled and shook her head. "I really am fine. We're making the best of it. We're researching and playing games and eating practically every hour."
Malfoy helpfully supplied the words that were unspoken but evident on Harry's and Ginny's faces. "Except you're doing all that with me." She couldn't decipher his expression. It felt like a test.
"You're trapped just as I am. It's not your fault." She emphasized it, hoping he could detect the undercurrent.
I don't blame you.
He was sarcastic. "Sure."
She turned back to Harry and elicited promises - they would not return. They would not risk it. They would get out of the cave immediately and apparate home. Then they would take over the search from Ron and Pansy and make sure it was done properly. They would send word via letter in Nott's deliveries. And they would find the way out. "For both of us," she said.
Harry and Ginny nodded, looking devastated at the prospect of leaving her behind. Malfoy chuckled as they turned away, waving goodbye and telling her they loved her.
"Love you too," he called.
Harry ignored it, Ginny's hand gripped in his, and they left.
Hermione watched them, quickly smiling when Ginny glanced back.
Don't worry. I'm fine. I'll be fine. Go.
Hermione stood at the archway for a long time, looking at the bend where her friends had disappeared. Malfoy was walking behind her.
It had happened so fast. Just minutes ago she'd found the passage in the book. Now she was - alone. The last of their band of adventurers. Trapped in a cave with a Malfoy. A man who alternated between feeding her and being mean to her and coaxing unspeakable orgasms from her.
A man who was the actual cause of her entrapment.
Hermione needed to think.
"You can say it." He stopped in front of her, looking down, ready for her ire.
She met his eyes. "I don't need to."
He nodded, reciting from memory. "The cavern responds to the needs of the family which compels it. This form of magic can both contain and exclude as desired; it is controlled most often by the head of the family but any member with blood and proximity may wield its power."
She nodded and went to sit on the couch. Told you I didn't need to say it. "When you're ready, we should discuss. I'm guessing the key to getting out of here is you, the Malfoy heir, figuring out your connection to the cave."
He sat down beside her, running his hands through his hair. She twisted so she was facing him, one knee bent and up so she could rest her cheek on it and look at him. He seemed almost nervous.
"I'm not the heir," he said after a minute. "I'm the head of the family. My father granted me that status when he went to Azkaban."
"He - abdicated?" She couldn't think of the right word.
"In a sense. What he couldn't sign over to me legally, he passed along in a blood ritual. Old magic." He made a face, remembering. "It was unpleasant."
"Tell me more."
"He made me owner of the Manor. And the other properties, including these lands. Certain objects and heirlooms that must stay in the family. Information that only the head can know." His voice was bitter.
"Did he mention the cave?" she ventured.
"No."
She wasn't sure what to make of that.
"But -" he looked at her, his eyes touching each part of her face, taking in her posture and her body. "He did talk about the wards."
"Wards?"
"There are certain wards, most very old. Many established with blood, some even with sacrifice. My father told me the ones he knew about." He chewed his lip for a moment. "But he admitted he doesn't know them all. Some have been - lost. Over the generations. We kept better track of our wealth than our magic."
Of course.
"They protect the Manor?"
He looked her right in the eye. "They protect the family. But yes - the Manor secondarily. And anywhere else we may reside."
"Can you control them?"
"There are spells to alter, revise, or remove some. But clearly-" he gestured at the room around them - "this was one that wasn't on Lucius's list. This cave must be a variation - a primitive variation - of what protects the Manor."
"What happened, Draco?" His eyes widened slightly at her use of his name. "When Harry was released? Did you feel something?"
He considered. "Yes. When we were discussing-"
"Arguing."
He continued. "Arguing about what you found in the book. I was thinking about how Potter and Ginny aren't in the family, aren't part of the protection. Like - it's something I knew, of course, but for the first time it became a conscious thought. And I felt something shift. I can't explain it-" he cut off the question on her lips. "But I felt it. I realized they shouldn't be here. By the time I told you your theory didn't explain Potter and Weasley -"
"They were free," she whispered.
He nodded. "Yes."
"So we just have to figure out how you control it."
"Just." A scoff.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She lay her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. The pieces were falling into place in her head. Malfoy is the head of his family. He owns these lands. She'd think of that later, the wealth and the power of it. This cave is holding us in because of him. Because he compelled it. Whether he knows or not. He shielded Harry and Ginny without realizing it.
She swallowed. The final piece. If Malfoy had been able to release Harry and Gin, it meant he could release her. Yet the barrier remained, its cold dark magic squeezing her spine. He had some ability to distinguish, to control. Yet he seemed genuine when he claimed not to be conscious of it.
She opened her eyes and studied his profile. He was doing his own hard thinking, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Was he conscious of the magic? It would mean he'd put on a good show this whole time. Was Malfoy capable of such deception? Was this all part of some grand trick, and he'd kept them in here for weeks as part of some joke or scheme? She examined the elegant line of his nose and cheekbones. He was so handsome. She forgot, sometimes, now that they were together so much. But in a moment like this it was distracting, how attractive he was. It made the whole situation all the more intolerable.
She didn't think he consciously desired them to be here. He was too angry, the frustration too real. Perhaps he was misleading her - she remembered the letters - but not about being trapped. He didn't seem to want to be stuck any more than she did.
But he was compelling the magic of this cavern. Harry and Ginny's escape proved it.
So it's subconscious. Unconscious. Some part of Malfoy wanted him to stay here. And, apparently, her too. Some part of him had wanted Harry and Ginny to be safe - until he became aware of it.
He interrupted her thought with an identical one of his own. "How do you think I did it? Released them?"
An admission. You were right, Granger.
It was a testament to her character that she had no desire to gloat.
"I think you became aware of the cavern's magic - just enough that you could sever whatever held them into their chamber."
He nodded slowly, absently. Trying to figure it out. After a few minutes he sighed and dropped his head down, frustrated. "I didn't do anything, though. I didn't perform any spells. I wasn't aware."
He turned slightly to look at her. "That bloody magic is still holding us in, and I don't know how to stop it. I want to get out. But -" he gestured at the archway and then pointed to his temple - "clearly there's something I need to think or say or do."
"Or feel," she offered.
She expected him to argue, but he was silent, pensive, mulling it.
"Or feel," he conceded.
"What . . . what do you feel?"
He exhaled softly. "I don't know." It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him, his forehead furrowed with confusion.
Malfoy must have realized it too because his head abruptly snapped and he glared at her. "Nice try, Granger. I'll work it out on my own. I don't need you to be my bloody therapist."
Not unexpected. Hermione shrugged and maintained an even tone. "Just trying to get out of here. I actually want to."
The provocation landed as intended and he stood, jaw tight. She smiled and cut him off before he could insult her. "When you've figured it out, please let me know."
Eyes glittering, Malfoy slipped on his mask of cool indifference. It was fascinating, the way his face transformed from rage to calm. "Will do."
They looked at each other for a long moment before he began to pace and she settled her head onto the back of the couch. He will figure it out. She knew that. But when.
The rest of the day passed in silence. He seemed determined not to be the first to break it. That was fine with Hermione. She was tired, and frustrated, and content to let him stew. He studiously avoided looking at her.
Instead, he read the entirety of the "dusty old book" that contained the passage about the caverns. When he was finished he threw it, angry, across the room. Hermione was laying in the alcove, watching the lights flicker against the stone walls. Pondering how the cavern must work - running through the wards she knew, the blood magic she'd only studied.
Nott came before dinner time - Malfoy accepted the basket with grunts and nods and nary a thank you. Rude.
Dinner was bits and bobs - one of her favorites at her own flat. Cheeses and pickles and olives and fruit spreads and water biscuits. He set it all out, a peace offering.
She did not get up.
He waited.
He could eat alone or speak to her. She would not join him without an invitation.
Nearly an hour passed. The tension palpable between them.
She knew he would be the first to relent. She knew it, because she was content to stay in this bed until he starved, and his manners wouldn't let him eat without offering it to her first.
Eventually, as predicted, his hunger was too much. He looked at her, irritated.
She smiled pleasantly, eyebrows raised. Yes?
"Hungry?"
You could tell him no. You could argue with him, demand he tell you how he released Harry and Ginny. You could make him feel bad for how ungracious he's been.
"Sure." Instead, she got up and joined him.
He poured her some wine and she picked the glass up. He lifted his as well, and clinked them. "To never again hearing the sound of Potter fucking."
"Crass." She took a sip. "But, I agree. It was a bit awkward."
Malfoy seemed surprised, but he drank to hide what she was sure would have been a smile.
Just like that, the tension dissipated. What was the point?
She asked if he'd found anything she'd missed in the book, and he told her no, and then they chatted about what Harry and Ginny were probably doing right now, and speculated as to how Ron and Pansy would respond to getting some oversight. That left them both chuckling, Malfoy especially. "Pansy hates - hates - Potter. I'd give my left nut to see her face when he strolls in, ordering her to hand over her notes and tell him what she's been doing."
When they were finished he cleared the dishes while she had her bath. It reminded her of the prior day, when he'd joined her, and she dunked her head, trying to forget. He was waiting, on the pallet, when she came out. "I'm not sleeping here tonight," he said. "Just ready to get this over with."
Oh. Her stomach plummeted. Of course. She was a task, an item to be checked off his list of daily tasks. Eat, brush teeth, exercise, finger Granger, sleep.
"You don't have to," she said. "We can take the night off."
"I like my own space," he said lightly. "Come on now."
She went and sat down and then lay down, stiff. She had a large nightshirt on, baggy. Keeping his body away from hers, he put his hand beneath the hem and started to rub her.
"Why so tense?"
She blinked, willing tears away. What is wrong with you? Last night was too much - you know it. The bath, his lips on your neck, and then waking up with him against you. It was inappropriate. He's Draco Malfoy. You're you. "Just adjusting to the changes today, I guess."
"You've got to loosen up. Feels like I'm bothering you."
"I'm sorry." But she could feel her legs pressing together against the intrusion of his hand.
He sighed. "I don't need an apology. I need to know you want me to do this."
She didn't. And she did. "Yes. Sorry."
He waited, but her legs didn't move. "Let's back up," he offered, and began to rub her stomach.
"I hate it when you do that."
He stilled immediately. "Touch you?"
"No, when you touch that part of me."
"Here?" He palmed her belly and her abs clenched beneath his hand. "You haven't seemed to mind before."
"It's embarrassing."
"How so?" To his credit he actually sounded confused.
"I'm not - in shape."
"Ah." He paused. "Respectfully, I disagree."
Hermione snorted. "It's not really a matter of opinion."
Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Fishing for compliments now?"
"What? No, I really-" She must have sounded genuine because he cut her off.
"You could do with a lot more belly, Granger."
She thought of the women she had heard he'd dated - they tended to be pretty, fashionable, and - well, not all thin, actually. The Greengrass sisters were quite curvaceous. She blushed, imagining Malfoy in bed with a woman. How he'd hold her hips and palm her breasts and squeeze her ass. That wasn't Hermione at all. She was - not much to grip. No wonder you're a -
"Sorry."
"Merlin." He removed his hand from her body to wipe his face. "I didn't mean it like that. Just - you're fine the way you are. Wizards can't take their eyes off of you. You're probably just too busy to notice."
That was definitely not true.
"I have an idea." He sat up.
"What's that?"
"Change in position. I think we're both sick of this one."
He got up and went and sat on the couch. "Come here."
She followed, standing awkwardly near his legs.
Raising an eyebrow, he waited. "Care to join?"
She moved to sit beside him on the cushions and he chuckled. "On my lap."
She started to straddle him and he shook his head. "That way."
Fully mortified, she turned and perched awkwardly on his knees, facing the bed. She felt his hands on her back. He was - massaging her? Yes. He was kneading her shoulders, his thumbs pressed on her neck.
"Relax."
She tilted her head forward obediently. It wasn't hard to do as he asked - his hands were magic, soothing and firm and strong. He worked on her shoulders, down her sides, over each rib, and lightly rubbed each bone in her spine. By the time he gripped her hips and pulled her back and against him, she was putty. Mold me as you will.
She leaned into him the way she had in the bath, her head in the space between his neck and shoulder. Their cheeks brushed. He arranged her legs so they fell on either side of his, and held her tightly with an arm while his other hand began to play with her cunt. She could feel his cock under her arse but ignored it. If it didn't bother him it didn't bother her.
She was wet, as always when he touched her, but he teased her for a long time until she finally asked for more, please.
He pushed into her with a finger and she released a contented breath. His thumb found her clit and she came at the first light brush. How does he do it?
But there was more, and he stroked her carefully so that the orgasm lasted and lasted and lasted. The pleasure rolled through her in powerful waves, dispelling the darkness like a Patronus. She was clenching on his finger, pulling it into her body, her head pressed back and her mouth open - when he shuddered beneath her and muttered "fuck" into her neck.
She struggled to remember words. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." His teeth were gritted.
"Did I hurt you?"
"You've done what no woman has ever done, Granger - you unmanned me."
She whipped her head to look at him, confused. He was blushing. Odd, the spots of red on his cheeks. He was not a man who blushed often.
"I did what?"
"Made me come in my pants like a deprived teenager."
"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say.
He winced. "I think that's my line. Up you go, I'm going to excuse myself."
She rose, straightening her nightshirt. He was in the bathroom for a long time. When he returned she was in bed.
"That was embarrassing," he said flatly, and lay down on the couch.
"I didn't even notice." She tried to sound assuring, but he laughed.
"Thanks."
"No, I mean - I could feel how, um . . ."
"Hard."
"Yes, that. I could feel that. Of course, I could feel that." It was her turn to laugh weakly. "But I didn't know you . . . completed."
"Ah. Then my shame is my own fault. I shouldn't have said anything."
"Why now?" She blurted it, the question she'd been pondering while he was in the bathing room. She fumbled over the words. "You've been touching me for weeks - what was different this time?"
He frowned. "It's been awhile since I fucked, I guess."
"Oh. Right."
"For you too, I imagine."
"Um. Yes." Twenty-five years and counting.
They fell quiet. She didn't see why he would have finished today, when she looked rather bedraggled and was sitting on his lap in an ugly old shirt. She would have guessed their bath, with her tits bobbing merrily, would have been more tempting for him . . . .
But Malfoy was an odd man.