Fifteen
Sculptor

Draco sends a wispy Patronus message with their location.

They wait.

Harry's scar still glows. He says he is unharmed, but he is flushed and favouring his left shoulder. Hermione places a hand on him and lets magic work. He breathes easier and stands straighter when she finishes. But Harry needs proper attention from a Healer.

Draco sends Kaida to the skies to search the area for those who have fled—to observe, not engage.

It is not long before a squadron of soldiers and trusted knights arrive on the backs of winged horses and hippogriffs. Soldiers are tasked with clearing the bodies and taking the trapped survivors back to the palace dungeons for treatment and interrogation.

"You ensnared them with tree roots?" Goyle asks Hermione in whispered awe. "That is advanced magic for someone who does not yet carry a wand."

"It was a spell my father taught me. The king's wand and—"

"That was all you." There is a proud smirk on Draco's face. "Own your power, Little Lion."

Hermione bites back her blush, but feels her body grow warmer even though the sun has escaped behind clouds. Draco's praise leaves her inexplicably pleased.

The exchange makes Harry and Goyle trade curious looks, before Draco glares at both.

Wood and Goldstein run to them.

"You were tracked," Wood informs. "The only way to test this out is to end all spells."

Goldstein draws his wand. "Finite Incantatem."

Buckbeak glows gold then the spell vanishes.

A new question arises.

As does a privacy charm by Wood. "Muffliato."

"Who set the charm?" Goyle asks immediately.

"There was a fox here." Hermione frowns. "We have been in the forest for a few hours. This makes no sense…"

"Anyone who knew you were planning a trip is a suspect, Your Majesty." Goldstein looks around.

"The list is long." Wood sheaths his wand. "Your movements are rarely private, Sire. There are many whispers of your morning jaunts with the queen."

Draco frowns. "I am aware."

Hermione was not.

"But the number of suspects drops with the tracking charm on Buckbeak. They had to know Harry was going and could set the charm without being detected." Goldstein points at the hippogriff who looks ready to eat Fawkes.

The phoenix awaits; it has not moved from the branch.

"Mulciber and Pucey knew," Harry says, running at his head agitatedly. "As did several soldiers and council members."

"Given what happened with my uncle, it would not be wise to call anyone traitors without definitive proof," Draco says. "It will cause further destabilisation, but I will put trusted eyes on them."

Harry winces after rolling his shoulders.

Draco's expression grows serious. "Take Potter back to the palace to be healed."

"I am well, Sire."

Hermione knows this is a lie, but her brother's determination is limitless.

Draco gives her a long-suffering glance. "I assume that you refuse to return to the palace as well."

"That is correct. Not without him." Hermione folds her arms. "Or you."

His expression evens, softens. "Very well."

On the back of Buckbeak, Harry looks tired and pale, resting on the hippogriff who walks slowly. Hermione stays at its side, a hand on her brother to keep him steady. Draco is next to her, wand drawn.

With Fawkes as their guide, they trek deeper into the forest. Even concealed by thick trees, Kaida finds them from the skies.

A silent exchange leaves Draco sour. "Our destination is not far."

Their destination is an old man in garish electric blue robes with long white hair and a beard that nearly reaches his knees. He sits on a felled trunk in the centre of a circle of trees as if nothing is amiss, observing them with the same awareness and calculation Hermione recognises in herself.

Dumbledore smiles.

Fawkes lands on his shoulder with a majestic flair. When he greets his familiar, Hermione notices black burn marks on his hand.

Draco sees them as well.

They exchange wordless sidelong glances as Harry climbs off Buckbeak. Entering the circle of trees brings with it a cool sensation. Magic prickles her skin. Nature within this circle is as still as the air, the silence deafening, but the energy remains.

Dumbledore offers a small sack with a twinkle in his eyes. "Lemon drop?"

Startled by the bizarre offer, she blinks at the treat Harry accepts.

Draco's glare intensifies. "How convenient your presence is. Here, warded and hidden. Hiding."

"Concealed, Your Majesty," he amends. "My search for the Resurrection Stone brought me to a cave in the Cliffs of Moher in the Shacklebolt Kingdom."

"I was not aware you were undertaking such a mission yourself."

"I was with Prince Neville. I have sent him back to the Longbottom palace."

"Were you successful?" Harry asks.

"We must be prepared," Dumbledore says sagely. "The stone I found was left with a note from Regulus Black. After he split the stone from the Gaunt Ring and before he died, he relocated the stone and left behind a fake."

Hermione looks at Harry, both with Sirius on their minds.

Draco remains unmoved. "And you stopped here?"

"Fawkes said there was a disturbance in this forest on the ride back. I came to investigate, but when I realised Voldemort and his followers were here, I concealed myself to protect the Elder Wand."

"You could have used it to destroy him, but no, that would go against your greater good," Draco says angrily. "We were ambushed while you hid in the forest."

"And yet you emerge victorious."

The hilt of Draco's wand glows green. He looks ready to use it again, but Hermione tempers him by wrapping her hand around his wrist.

They need answers more than violence.

"Much has happened, Dumbledore, and we need your knowledge."

The old man's head tilts slightly as he looks directly at her for the first time. "Queen Hermione, at long last. I have heard much about you."

"Likewise."

"You may ask me what you wish to know."

"Harry and Voldemort's wands. When Draco and I found them, their spells were locked. There was a golden thread and ghosts came out of Voldemort's wand—"

"Priori Incantatem," he gasps, taking off his spectacles. "Harry, what is your wand core?"

"Phoenix."

"Ah." Dumbledore stands. "Brother wands."

"What?" Harry looks confused.

"Two wand cores harvested from the same creature at the same time. Not terribly uncommon, but it is rare for brother wands to meet in a duel. When one overcomes the other, it forces the losing brother to emit echoes of its last spell. Voldemort's last spells were Unforgivable, so it brought back spirits that linger for a few moments before they fade into the Beyond."

"How do you know this?" Draco asks sceptically.

"Because Fawkes gave up two feather cores many years ago. Voldemort carries one, Ollivander told me this, and if this account is true, this means that Harry carries the other."

"Why is that significant?" Hermione wonders.

"The Potter and Longbottom bloodlines are connected to Voldemort due to prophecy, but Harry is the only chosen one not protected by the sacrifice of love. Your duel proves to him that you are the lost heir he has been looking for."

"How did he know to attack me?"

"My memories," Hermione whispers. "I do not know all of what he saw when he was in my mind, but he must have seen enough."

"The queen is correct, which means there are more traitors living amongst you."

"I am aware," Draco says tightly. "You have forbidden me to act on my suspicions unless they expose themselves. This makes me a sitting duck in my own palace while people vanish and Inferius—"

"I found Voldemort's Inferi army in the cave with the fake stone, trapped there by complex magic. The Inferi on your lands are not his."

"And therefore not your problem," Draco concludes.

The ensuing silence confirms this.

Hermione frowns.

Draco laughs bitterly. "Of course not. If it does not pertain to your war or your plans for Potter, then it is meaningless."

Plans?

Dumbledore looks at Draco. "I understand your frustration." This earns him a bitter scoff. "But Harry's wand poses a higher problem that will make Voldemort look for another alternative—a wand that can beat his."

"The Elder Wand," Harry whispers.

Dumbledore produces the wand in question.

Forged by Death itself, the fabled wand is unadorned and has a handle shaped from two conjoined spheres. Ordinary, but perhaps this was the intent.

"What will happen when all three Hallows are carried by one person?"

Dumbledore looks impressed by her question. "They will become the true master of death. What this means has not been proven, Queen Hermione, but there are those who believe that to be the master of death will make you invincible."

"Do you believe this?"

"Yes."

"Voldemort could use the Hallows to conquer the realm," Harry says. "Destroy us all."

"Yes, but first he needs his full strength. A way to reunite the fragment of his soul that Rodolphus is hosting with his body. He cannot subsist on unicorn blood forever. Now that the rest of his horcruxes are destroyed, Harry is the only way to get what he needs to conquer the realm."

"What will you have us do?" Harry asks.

"We need to find the stone, protect all the Hallows from Voldemort, but he will return with numbers now that he knows it is you. We must prepare for an all-out attack."

"Very well." Draco levels Dumbledore with a look. "Gather your Order, old man. I will gather my knights and soldiers."

"Perhaps Potter should—"

"He will remain protected in my kingdom with his wife and family."

Dumbledore nods.

Hermione reaches into her bag. "I have a salve for your burn."

Dumbledore waves her off with a cryptic kindness. "Salves do nothing on curses. It will pass. One way or another."

An Abraxian horse lands beyond the circle of trees.

The spell drops and nature rushes in to fill the void.

"We will meet again." His eyes twinkle. "Soon."

Once Dumbledore is gone, Draco sends Harry back to the palace on Buckbeak while they walk to a clearing where Kaida can land. After a long silence, Hermione is ready to ask questions.

"Why do you hate Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore manipulated me to join his cause when I was crowned king. I was fifteen and knew the realm wanted to destroy me for their own safety. I did not know what to do. I was lost and felt alone with nowhere to turn when Dumbledore came for a private meeting. He said to stand with him, do as he says, and he will stop the rest of the realm from rising against me."

Hermione cannot hide her disgust.

"He made it impossible to say no, the vow he made me take is unbreakable, and I did not understand what it entailed. But he did as he promised. He kept the realm at bay with Queen Augusta issuing her threat that should anyone rise against me, the might of the Longbottom Kingdom will rise with me by land and sea and air. So, at Dumbledore's behest, I declared war on kingdom after kingdom who were known close supporters of Voldemort. I am playing my role as a royal pawn until the deed is done."

"Why you?"

"Dumbledore has known all along about your family's history. He only needed me because my family has yours bound by duty. Dumbledore visited the palace not long after Potter was sent to train alongside me as a knight. He was surprised by your brother's blocked memories, but found it beneficial, especially when we went to war."

"Harry went to war blind," Hermione whispers. "He did not know what any of it meant, but you did."

Draco looks ahead. "Potter's temper is the reason for the scars on my chest, but I was no better. We hated each other and fought until he realised what my father's madness did to me. When my face was cut, Potter gave me a mirror when no one else would. And when he was dying, he stood outside the door and waited."

Hermione understands their odd bond more than ever.

"Snape said that Potter was destined to die, but I—I refused to lead him to death's door."

"He told me he was loyal to you—that it was not bound by duty, blindness, or complacency. But you are just as loyal to him, to all your knights."

"We have seen much together. Lost many, too, in a war only few know the true meaning of."

She remembers everything she said and winces.

Draco scans the area, reminding her that he is still on guard even when nothing is around. "Potter was not blind for long when we went to war. When he touched the first horcrux, the block was destroyed and he fell from the shock. Kaida caught him and Firenze took him to the woods to help sort his memories."

Hermione's stomach twists at learning all of this, thinking about all she said to Harry when he returned from war. How little she wrote to him over the years. She feels guilty for not knowing his struggles.

But she cannot change the past; she is here now.

And she will protect her brother.

"What is Harry's part in the greater good?" Hermione asks.

"He is a sacrifice for Dumbledore's tainted plan."

She is silent for several minutes as she processes everything. "How he has weaved you all into this web is masterful. It makes sense that he would use your family's history of conquest and tyranny to start yet another war. That he uses this to conceal the fact that you are bringing Harry to each kingdom that hides a horcrux in order to destroy it is logical yet cruel."

"My grandfather taught me that when a goal needs to be achieved, it requires consensus. Not from the majority, only the most powerful. Manipulation is essential when an agreement cannot be reached. Dumbledore lives by this. He cares about achieving his end, regardless of the consequences or the sacrifices required."

"Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"You sound like your brother." Draco scoffs. "Be careful who you take a risk on."

"I took one on you," Hermione reminds him. "The night I asked you to choose me."

He stops and looks at her. "I sometimes wonder why."

"Because I saw enough to believe in you. To hope. Perhaps my brother sees more hope in the world than you do. He believes it is worth saving from tyranny."

Draco stares at her, almost as if he is seeing her for the first time, then continues on their path, slowing his steps so they can walk side by side.

"Dumbledore is stronger than Voldemort, but he chooses to teach, to guide, to sit in the shadows while we do his dirty work. He could have destroyed Voldemort ten times over before Potter and Longbottom were born, but given the existence of horcruxes, that would not have been conducive to his plan."

"What is his plan?" Hermione asks curiously.

Draco steps over a fallen tree trunk that crosses the path. When she follows him, he is waiting for her with an outstretched hand that she accepts with ease.

"There are always unintended consequences to magic." He says as they both look to the skies when a free dragon flies close to the treetops. "Only those Voldemort has marked can destroy horcruxes, but should his soul be separated from his body like he is now, the Marked are the only ones who can aid in reuniting soul and body."

"I have heard he cannot act against Prince Neville."

"Yes, he cannot touch him because of his mother's sacrifice, just as he cannot touch you. This leaves Harry as the only one who can destroy Voldemort in a way that ensures he will not return."

There is much to think about, much to ask regarding what this entails, but they enter the clearing where Kaida awaits.

He stops her with added pressure on her hand. "I cannot stop your brother from doing something stupid and honourable, so I have been looking for another way that does not break my own Vow."

"Although his intent is good, perhaps it is not wise to entirely trust Dumbledore."

"I would be a fool to trust the puppeteer while I dangle from his marionette strings." Draco's mood is dark, accentuating the scar on his face. "Potter is a brave oaf who will gladly walk to his death if it will save the realm, but—"

"The road to the heavens does not always begin with death and sacrifice," Hermione recites quickly, startled and shaken with growing understanding. "Firenze said that to me, he once said it to Harry as well. There has to be another way."

"If there is, the centaurs have already intervened too much. We must figure it out ourselves."

"Have you?"

"With the threat of Voldemort bearing down on us, Theo and Percy are researching texts. There are many theories Sirius, your father, and Severus have come up with."

This is a surprising revelation. "They are able to work together?"

"Hardly." Draco shakes his head in faint amusement. "However, their goals are aligned."

"I know why Sirius and my father want to protect Harry. Why Snape? He hates my brother."

Draco runs a hand along Kaida's scales. "Love, even unrequited, is a weakness."

The following three days are busy, with Hermione keeping up appearances while quiet interrogations of the captured enemies take place in the palace dungeons overnight. During the day, soldiers and knights run down leads from prisoners, but they are late. Voldemort and his closest followers have already retreated.

Harry tries to conceal his nerves while Draco grows frustrated. Hermione spends each spare moment deconstructing their conversation with Dumbledore as well as hers with Draco.

This sends her into the palace library to read every scrap of information on brother wands, splitting and reuniting the soul, and the Deathly Hallows.

The wand. The stone. The cloak.

She is interrupted by a surprise.

Visitors.

Eloise and Theo.

"Your Majesty." He bows. His daughter does the same, albeit wobbly, but it earns praise from her father. "Very good."

Eloise preens.

Hermione smiles. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He sends Eloise farther into the adjoined room where her ladies talk behind warded silence. He waits until she is out of earshot. "You wanted an update about the soldier whose memory was erased."

Hermione sits up straighter. "What have you learned?"

"Not much, but there are broken fragments of a memory I was able to extract using a Pensieve. In it, a distorted face says, 'My master thanks you for your service'. It makes little sense."

"Perhaps a Voldemort follower?"

"There are those hidden in our midst, but why try to poison Draco so openly?"

Hermione can think of many reasons someone would try, but perhaps this really was a message. Not intended to truly harm, but to warn; a reminder that he is not safe.

Or maybe it was intended to do what it almost did.

Divide something in its most fragile state.

Them.

Not many knew Hermione would join the session. She was meant to be far enough away for her innocence to be questioned.

There are eyes everywhere that see beyond the rumours of trouble that Lady Lavender spreads. They see the truth and know things have changed between the king and queen.

Hermione is the danger Draco seeks to protect her from. "If I were to lose favour with the king, how would he choose his next queen?"

"Should this marriage fail, the council said they would return to choosing his queen. Save Lady Daphne and Lady Alicia, all of your Ladies are of noble ranking and eligible to succeed you. Particularly the younger ones."

Hermione pockets that knowledge for later. "That will be all, thank you."

"Oh, one more thing." Theo pulls something covered in cloth from the satchel he carries. He places it before her.

Hermione unwraps it and inhales sharply, covering her mouth. Emotions steal her words and blur her vision.

What once was lost is now found.

Her mother's dagger.

Damaged, covered in soot, and partly melted from dragon fire, yet still whole. That it does not crumble to ash reminds Hermione of the strength she finds within herself. As well as her family.

"Who found it?"

"The king commanded a unit to scour the forest for it shortly after learning it was lost. It has been over two months and they finally found it this morning."

She cannot stop her smile from growing, warmth spreading.

This man and his strange language of sentiment.

"Please express my utmost gratitude to everyone involved in this recovery effort. Reward them in any way you deem suitable." Hermione wipes her eyes. "This is priceless to me."

"It can be restored to what it once was."

"No." Hermione picks up the dagger.

Scorched but unbroken. Like her.

She has never felt more connected to it than now.

"Only clean the metal and sharpen the blade. I will carry it as it is."

"What do you know of Dumbledore's past?"

They are watching the sun rise while Kaida hunts for breakfast. Draco's hair is still wet from his swim and she cannot help but notice the way his tunic clings to him.

Hermione looks to Kaida for a distraction, but finds none.

"I do not know much about his family, only that they died and his brother abandoned him after his sister died in a duelling accident. I know the incident involved Grindelwald, the adopted son of the last Fawley king. They were very close. Grindelwald had the gift of Sight, and Dumbledore was powerful. When war was brewing between the kingdoms, Grindelwald and Dumbledore found the Elder Wand. They wanted to use it to stop the impending war and rule over all for the greater good."

"What happened?"

"Dumbledore wanted to rule as a benevolent dictator, but Grindelwald wanted to rule over all. He also sought immortality. He wanted to find the Elder Wand to bring the realm to its knees and he wanted to use the Resurrection Stone to build an army of the dead that would be loyal to him and do his bidding, near or far. Grindelwald believed he knew how."

"Is that possible?"

"Nobody has seen the stone since it was separated from the Gaunt Ring," Draco says as Kaida resurfaces with a large fish. "As for Dumbledore and Grindelwald, they were divided."

"What happened?"

"They went their separate ways after Ariana Dumbledore's death—Grindelwald became king after his adoptive father died and Dumbledore became Queen Augusta's advisor. However, when Grindelwald attacked the conclave of kings, Dumbledore duelled and won the Elder Wand. He locked Grindelwald away to free the realm of his intended tyranny. Little did he know, Voldemort would rise to power in the Gaunt Kingdom and kill Grindelwald, thinking he was the owner of the Elder Wand."

"Voldemort must know Dumbledore has the Elder Wand."

Draco confirms with a nod. "He will come for it when he is strong enough. Dumbledore is a fool for keeping it so close without using it."

Hermione absorbs the story in silence. "You do not trust Dumbledore's methods, but what about his intentions?"

"My interests align with his." His voice is low and hard, as if he dislikes admitting to a single similarity with Dumbledore. "No matter how I feel."

"You want to defeat Voldemort on your own terms."

"Yes, but not out of some moralistic or ideological high ground. I care little about being a good man. Dumbledore gave me an impossible choice much like Voldemort forced my mother to choose between life and me. Each believes they are doing the right thing, but in truth, they are the two sides of the same coin."

"Yet you have marked Voldemort as your enemy, not Dumbledore."

"Voldemort killed my mother, which destroyed my father and ruined my family. He is after Potter and he tried to kill you," Draco's anger speaks loud in the space of each breath. Her touch does not temper it. "Voldemort does not deserve the immortality he seeks."

With thoughts running through her mind, Hermione stands and picks up the swords Draco brought with him. "Let us spar and clear our minds."

"As you wish."

The first session leaves Hermione sweating and sore but exhilarated. When Draco stands behind her, correcting her form, she breathes him in and plans.

"Will you be returning to my chambers at a reasonable hour?" Hermione asks while his hands are on her hips. "Or will you be late?"

Draco moulds himself to her back, fingers coming to her chin to lift her head. "I will be late."

"Then I will wait for you."

"I need help."

Those three words are the hardest Hermione has ever spoken.

A concerned Ginny looks up from picking flowers. This outing is a distraction from all that has transpired. Ginny has been at Harry's side since the attack, helping him recover his strength, tempering his restlessness. It is not easy.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Draco has been busy." Now that she is on the cusp, she falters, but need gives Hermione the final push. "How might I go about distracting him?"

"Are you asking me about sex?" Ginny asks brazenly.

The guards are too far to overhear, but Hermione still shushes her.

Her grin grows wider. "The way he watches you, you should not have to do much."

Feeling as warm as the sun, Hermione toys with an herb she is holding. "He, um, he has not…"

"That explains why you are not with child. I thought you were taking the potion, like me. Or brewing it for yourself, but that, too, would be public news. I am learning there are very few secrets within these walls."

"Contraceptive potions are not permitted for us, but we have a long-term solution. I am preparing leaves from the jamu plant in my brewing room."

"Is that what you want?"

"For now. It is much too dangerous to bring a child into this world."

"It is. Harry told me the night after you woke up following the attack, there was an attempt on the king's life."

The night he returned to her chambers.

Hermione's heart jumps. "I-I was not informed."

"Given your state, I am not surprised no one told you." Ginny shakes her head. "Not many know. The assassins were waiting for him in his chambers and ambushed him before he could pull out his wand. The king killed them all, and left their bodies for the knights to clean up. He was not seen again until morning."

"He was with me. He shares my bed each night."

A chill runs up her spine. Perhaps this is why.

Ginny looks surprised. "If this is the case, I am not certain you need my advice."

"No, we have not… not since our wedding night. I know he wants to, and we…" Hermione trails off with a shrug. "There is a hurdle that exists in him. Our wedding night was awful, but I am determined not to repeat the occasion."

Hermione is comforted by her experience writhing on Draco's thigh, and nightly proof that they can make each other feel good in other ways.

But she wants more.

She just needs to settle her own nerves and assert herself. Hope lingers in each kiss during the nights she struggles to sleep, in his shivers when they touch each other, and in each morning as they watch the sun rise while Kaida hunts for fish.

For all the complexities of being king, Draco is simple to please. Routines, habits, and control are enough to keep his trust. She wishes he were more discerning, but his life tells the story as to why he is happy so long as there is no knife in his back.

"Do you need a potion to prevent conception?" Ginny asks after looking around.

"I already have one for this month, but I have been warned they will begin to check for it in the coming months should I not conceive." The vial is currently in her pocket. "I have never taken it before."

"Drink it one hour before he comes to you. The potion will remain active for one month." Ginny takes her hands. "As for the act, take your time and do what feels natural. Do not be afraid to voice your wants and desires in the heat of the moment. There is no shame. Without the pressure of accidental conception, I believe—oh!"

Pansy's arrival is sudden. She is flushed and visibly distressed, clutching a letter in her hand.

She paces before them, starting and stopping before finally blurting, "Queen Augusta has changed her mind. She is stepping down to allow Prince Neville to rule."

Hermione and Ginny exchange worried looks.

"He is to arrive in two days' time. From here, we will travel to the Longbottom kingdom and marry, completing the alliance of our kingdoms. We will be crowned immediately."

Hermione is stunned. "I—"

"Do not ask me if I am calm, I am quite calm!" Pansy's chest is heaving as she gasps for breath. "This is the contract I was bound to. I have been waiting for this moment my entire life. I… am fine. I…"

"Wine?" Ginny offers the glass that hovers above the ground. "Apparently we have two things to plan: a wedding and a seduction."

Draco returns to her chambers late that night.

Hermione is not asleep.

This surprises him as much as the magenta silk gown she wears. It is short and leaves little to the imagination. The room is dimmed by magic, the glow warm and hazy, much like she feels after taking the potion and a sip of calming draught to ease her nerves.

"I am trying something new, if you like."

Judging from Draco's darkening expression, he wants what she is offering.

But he remains at a distance. Careful as ever.

Hermione notices how dirty he is. He must have been in the woods with his knights or Kaida might have pushed him into mud… again. The bath Winky drew is more of a necessity than the planned luxury.

Charmed to stay hot, she leaves him alone to clean himself and prepares. When Draco emerges, he is clean, smelling like pine and lavender. Standing in the doorway in only a towel, she watches him take in the sight.

The oils on the table.

The covers removed.

Candles lit.

She is standing naked before him.

"What is this?"

"A reprieve." Hermione gestures to the bed. When he doesn't move, she insists with the weakest reason she can think of. "A moment to clear our minds. Lie down."

Draco slowly does as she requests, but surprises Hermione when he lies on his stomach instead of his back.

There is trust in this position.

Confidence renewed, and with a bottle of oil in her hand, Hermione straddles the back of his thighs. The move makes him tense.

Draco is far from comfortable like this. Worse when she dribbles a bit too much oil onto his back and massages it into his skin.

"I will not hurt you, you know this."

His answer comes as a rumble, "I do."

"Have you not had a massage before?"

"No."

"Then enjoy."

Starting low, she rubs the muscles of his back that ripple when he moves. Draco remains tense but she continues on, mapping the trail up his spine, touching and working out the rigidity in each cord. Working each pressure point, she notices the moment stress begins to bleed from him.

From them both.

Touch is a language Hermione does not speak as fluently as she would like, but she has been learning for weeks now with Draco. What he likes and what he craves. She massages his arms, shoulders, and neck, taking her time to map old scars as she familiarises herself with his past and present.

His stillness is a cue of just how loose and relaxed he is.

Hermione rises over his body.

"Turn over."

Draco does without argument.

His pupils are blown wide, his mouth open slightly at the sight of her standing over him. But the first thing Hermione notices are the scars on his chest. They match the one on his face.

Then she sees the bulge under the towel.

Sucking in a brave breath, Hermione sinks down to straddle his legs. Untucking the towel, she opens it and drinks in the sight of Draco splayed out naked before her.

He is as beautiful as he is terrifying.

"I want you," she whispers.

Their eyes lock. His bold desire is restrained, asking to be freed.

Heat pools low in her belly. "Do you want me?"

"More than anything."

With oil-covered fingers, Hermione takes him in hand. Draco sucks in a sharp breath when she moves her fist up and down, slick and smooth. His cock is warm, and Hermione takes her time exploring it until it throbs.

Draco's fists curl at his side.

She adds a drop more oil and continues her journey of touch until he is rocking into her tight fist with hypnotic thrusts, uttering a broken, choked off word.

"Hermione."

She moves up his body to settle over his hips. As she massages his chest, his cock sits heavy and hard between her thighs.

Thick. Slick. Hot.

His cock rubs between the lips of her cunt, and the shock of how good it feels makes her tense. Draco grips her arse, directing the motion, and they both gasp.

She moves on instinct. His cock rubbing against her clit feels as serene as Draco looks. It is a crime they have not stripped down and done this before. Hermione is frantic, pinching and pulling her hard nipples. It makes him drag her hips too fast, putting the thick head of his cock at the entrance of her wet cunt.

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open.

"Did you—did you take the potion?" Draco asks, low and gravelly, edged with unravelling control.

"I did."

Hermione lifts up to position herself. With slow agony, she sinks onto his cock, squeezing her eyes shut and breathing loud and harsh in the quiet room.

Oil, nights with his fingers opening her up, and her own desire all help ease the initial discomfort.

Already, it is far better than the first time.

There is no pain, only pressure.

They groan in unison when Hermione is fully seated; she is stretched and full like before but everything is different. Draco's eyes are shut tight, face flushed, and his trembling hands grip her waist. He opens his eyes when she rubs calming hands on his chest.

"Kiss me."

He surges up, still grasping the last tethers of his control. Hermione relaxes as his tongue brushes hers, as their lips work together instinctively, pulling little moans from her throat.

It grows.

It heats.

This swell between them is hot and ferocious, each kiss deeper than the one before. Full of pent up desire and need, Hermione cards her fingers through his hair and yanks when Draco shifts her. He hisses as she whimpers.

They freeze at the new sensations.

It does not hurt.

He shifts beneath her again and her eyes nearly cross.

This is far better than his thigh.

Better than his fingers.

Better than anything.

If Draco's uncertainty returns, it dies at the first roll of her hips.

As does hers.

"Like this?" Hermione murmurs.

"Yes." Draco sounds like the air has been punched from his lungs.

"Can feel you…" She groans. Each move is slow, experimental. Hermione acclimates to the stretch, finding every angle odd, but she is determined to familiarise herself with each new sensation.

It is strenuous.

They are both slick from the effort. Beads of sweat roll from his chin onto her breast as he tries to adjust her and she tries stubbornly to figure it out.

Hermione is not graceful, they are not in harmony, but their first mutual exhale comes when she finds what has been missing all along: rhythm.

"Oh fuck." Draco holds her still, voice hoarse and rough. "Strangling my cock."

"Then do not fight me."

Hermione kisses him deep and rolls her hips again and again, using his pounding heart to guide her as she rides him. It is a sinuous, liberating dance of bodies that grows better and wilder and louder.

Frantically, Draco mouths her shoulder, her neck, her lips, all while gripping her arse tight. "So fucking wet."

Shaking from praise, sparks of pleasure accompany the pressure. A low moan escapes Hermione's slack mouth as she chases each sensation with a determination born equally of need and curiosity.

Switching angles and speed. Arms around his neck and feet braced on the bed, she finds the right combination that makes her back arch and toes curl while Draco bites back curses. His hands help her along.

"How do I feel?" Hermione asks breathily. She moves as if in a trance, her body no longer her own. Every nerve ending burns as fire floods her veins.

It is too much.

"Feels like you—" Draco struggles to speak. "Hugging my cock, begging me to fuck you. Give you what we need."

"I am."

It starts in the pit of her stomach.

A tightness she cannot explain.

Coils of arousal twist and clench and pull taut.

Her rhythm falters once, then again. She gets frustrated and tired. Her legs start cramping.

"Let me."

They stare at one another for a beat, then two, before Hermione gives in.

Draco accepts control like he has been waiting for it, like he needs it more than air, water, and life.

He flips them over with his cock still seated deep. She is beneath him so quickly, so effortlessly that her vision blurs. Rough and impatient, Draco's mouth is everywhere he can reach.

Catching kisses and touches a fraction too late, he is ready to gorge and consume.

Hermione lets him.

Wants it.

Craves it.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, threading her fingers through his hair, fisting it and holding on tight.

She needs the friction.

Needs him.

"Please."

There is nothing but the pounding of her heart, the punishing way Draco fucks her, the way they both shake and strain in each other's arms as the bed slams rhythmically into the stone wall.

Moans. Sighs. Gasps.

Broken words.

"So good for me."

Hunger.

It grows.

The feeling eclipses everything until it steals all her focus. For as much as she wants and needs this, Hermione nearly tells him to stop, that she might break, but her mind shatters like glass.

As does she.

Hermione bucks and arches, legs shaking, fisting his hair, momentarily paralyzed.

It feels like euphoric death.

Her scream is deafening.

Draco fucks her through it with wild abandon. On his knees with his head thrown back, gasping for air. He grits his teeth and tries to pull away, but she squeezes his cock so tight he groans like she is killing him.

"Not in your hand, in me."

His rhythm stumbles. Draco covers her body with his, fucking her until he cannot help but follow her over the edge with a low, strangled shout that sounds almost painful.

There is no better feeling than Draco throbbing inside her. The way he hums and grunts with each frantic spurt, his arms holding her tight as he buries himself deep and holds, tensing more and more as his orgasm rolls on.

Delicious, vulnerable sounds escape him unbidden. It makes her light-headed, squeezing and shaking around his cock until he relaxes and stills.

Breathes.

Sighs.

Time suspends as they catch their breath, still wrapped together. He is a weight she does not want to be free from. She strokes the back of his head and finally understands the meaning of two becoming one.

A peace beyond her understanding settles, the tendrils of connection strengthening.

Nothing matters outside these walls.

Draco slips out and she mourns the loss of the fullness. He eases off of her and lays at her side, still panting. Before he can slip out of reach, Hermione touches his arm.

"Do not turn away or hide. Let us sleep like this."

Shifting closer, she rests her head on the same pillow as his and pushes his sweaty hair from his forehead. There is a subtle softness in the grey eyes that search her face.

He catches her lips, kissing her slow and tender. It deepens as his hand slides down the curve of her waist. Pliant and relaxed, it is easy to surrender to the hazy glow of her chambers. Easy to ask for the affection Hermione is greedy for.

It is a thrill to take when they give so much.

Their energy. Their bodies. Their lives.

All in service to the throne.

But Hermione begins to understand the beauty in selfishness. The freedom in taking intimacy she did not know she craved until she starves for it. Until she is desperate to feel something other than the emptiness of loneliness.

Draco pulls her closer.

The world settles.

Their hearts beat anew.

Sculptor: The constellation was depicted as a carved head lying on a tripod table, next to a sculptor's mallet and two chisels.

A/N: Hiiiiiii, here we are after a delay. Life changes happening all around. Hope the update and the artwork made the wait worth it.