Steeling herself, she called to him. "In here." Her tone was more measured than expected. Calm. Soft. Good girl.
Malfoy was turning out of her kitchen. Looking, unfortunately, unbelievably handsome. His clothes - perfectly fitted. His hair - brushed back, shiny. "I brought some takeaway in case you're hungr- are you alright?" Grey eyes evaluated her, up and down.
She swallowed. The best lies are based in truth. "Today was hard."
He narrowed those eyes and inclined his head. "Why? What's wrong?" Stepped forward a half step, hand reaching. She fought the urge to flinch and instead looked at the ground, eyelashes fluttering.
"I got in my head. It . . . overwhelmed me."
"Anything in particular that set it off?" Damn, he was smooth. His voice, like hers, was calm and soft.
She wanted to scream, to leap at him and slash her nails across his heart. To rip him open and invade, to injure as he'd done to her. To make him bleed.
"Kirby was cleaning. I think I - I felt guilty."
"That's my fault. I'll tell him to stop that. How was - everything else?"
"I read. A new book. It was good. I might be feeling Christmas - sometimes it can make you sad, you know?" She forced herself to look up. Plastered on a smile. She hoped it was gentle and sweet and not tortured and pained. It must have been the former because Malfoy seemed . . . relieved.
"I understand."
She laughed lightly. "Look at us, a couple of sentimental fools."
He nodded in agreement. "I hope it's okay that I came tonight. I don't mean to pressure you."
"Need me ready for something?" She winked.
And immediately regretted it. He leaned back, ever so slightly. The slightest waft of doubt drifted between them. He knew - something was off.
"Ready for what?"
She shrugged. "I'm sorry. Like I said, I'm not quite myself. I spent most of the afternoon crying."
She took a step forward and stumbled - not as a part of her performance, but out of sheer emotional exhaustion. He caught her easily and supported her with an arm. "Let's get you to bed."
"I had hoped to talk for a bit. I - I missed you."
She could feel him examining her face. She dared not meet his gaze, lest she reveal herself. Instead she leaned into him, her eyes on their feet, and rested her face against his chest. Rubbed her cheek, ever so slightly, against the softness of his shirt. Trait-or. Trait-or. Trait-or. She could hear it.A Death Eater's heartbeat in a beautiful package.
"While I appreciate that -" He steered her into her room. "We can talk while you rest." He pulled the covers back from where Kirby had neatly arranged them and helped her to get in.
Hermione leaned into the pillows, propped up as much as Malfoy would allow. He stood at her bedside, surveying her. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'd love a cup of tea?" Some space, immediately, before she died of heartbreak.
He pivoted and left. She listened to him rattling in the kitchen. Memorized the sound. You'll never hear it again.
While he was gone she took deep, restorative breaths. Arranged her hair and his snake jumper carefully to show off her collarbones. She left on just one low light. A romantic glow. She was ready.
Sure enough, the moment Malfoy entered the room with a mug, his focus went to her neck.
"You're looking like a blank slate tonight, Granger."
"I thought so too," she said, sultry, running her fingers lightly over his favorite spot. "Christmas is a time for gifts. It's been awhile since you left me one."
His reaction was just as she'd expected. His masculine energy flowed over her. Possessive. Proud. "I think I can manage that." He handed her the tea. It was the temperature she liked - steaming but not scalding. She sipped it before she remembered that she probably shouldn't eat or drink anything he gave her. Too late. He'd be suspicious if she didn't. She took another sip. He really did make a good cuppa.
Shame.
"Give me something to remember you by?" Coy. Light.
He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her headboard. He knew she was flirting.
He bent - to kiss her? No. His lips found the spot on her pulse point - his favorite - and she arched away, giving him room. Control, Granger. Don't forget who he is for a second. She squeezed the mug to ground herself.
But Malfoy's lips, gently sucking, were so good that she did forget. Or rather, let herself forget - just for a second. Perhaps it was knowing that this was the last night she would ever feel his touch - but every brush of his skin against hers was heightened in a way it had never been before. A tension stretched between them that she was sure he couldn't feel - or if he could, had not properly identified.
It had been hours since Hermione accepted what she had to do. But now, with his mouth pressing into her neck, she realized that to actually do that thing, it was not enough to simply put aside her awareness. She would have to bury her newly-gained knowledge - of who he really was - deep inside and wait to pull it out until tomorrow. If she focused on the pain and held it up like a shield, Malfoy would know. He could sense the slightest changes in her, the most subtle of noises and breaths.
She visualized a box in her chest - it was small but strong. She opened it. The rest of him could stay - for a night. But she put Kirby's words and the afternoon's clues inside that box and closed the lid, locked it tight, welded it completely shut. Airtight.
It loosed something within her.
She moved then - nearly splashing her tea. Malfoy released her immediately. She pushed the mug into his hands. He set it on the side table and turned back toward her. Now or never, Hermione. She surged up, into and onto him.
He seemed prepared - or maybe he was just as desperate as she was. He caught her as he stood beside the bed. She was on her knees so that their faces were level. He gripped her hips. "Granger?"
She looked in his eyes. Shiny, piercing. Perceptive. Her heart thudded. "Yes?"
He broke the contact, looked down at her neck, her body pressed against his. His hands squeezed her. "This might be the hottest fucking thing I'll ever see you wear."
That was - unexpected. "It's just your old jumper."
"No, it's not." He spoke in her ear. "It shows off my mark on your neck. And it's the loveliest shade of green."
The shiver ricocheted down her spine and she moved into him. Their bodies were matches - the harsh plane of his abdomen aligned perfectly with the softness of hers.
She ran her hands up his biceps, over his shoulders, around to the back of his neck. Into his hair. She twined her fingers in the thick strands and pulled. He tilted his head back, and it was her turn. She'd leave him something to remember her. Having never given a love bite before, she was operating on instinct. But she'd learned how he did it, and found his pulse. She nipped him and he grunted. "I'll make it better," she whispered.
He tipped his head to let her, and she latched onto the place where his blood flowed under the skin. It was not a flutter, as hers had been, but a pounding. She could also feel him hard between her thighs. He was pressed into her leggings. Spreading her knees ever so slightly to give him access, she sucked firmly. He breathed deeply through it, crushing her into him, kneading her hips. His cock twitched. Through all the lies you can feel one truth. He wants you.
She pulled his skin into her mouth as hard as she could. A part of her hoped that she would sprout teeth like a vampire and end it all there. Bite down and drink him, let his blood wash her clean of the sin of naïveté. She could imagine how it would taste. Like pain and pleasure and heat.
She was wet. And aching.
Releasing him to examine her handiwork, Malfoy sighed. He lifted his fingertips from where they'd been gripping her and trailed them over the blossoming bruise. "Got me good."
"How will you hide it?"
He made sure to meet her eye. "I won't."
She scoffed. "And when someone asks where it came from?"
He pursed his lips. "Maybe I'll tell them the truth."
Her heart thumped at that. "You should."
Malfoy cocked his head. What game was she playing? But before he could ask her another question she leaned back, far enough that his hand had to catch her. Arching against him she bit her lower lip suggestively. "Do you like this jumper too much to take it off of me?"
A mask fell away from his face then. She saw the Malfoy who had let her kiss him - just a few weeks ago - in the doorway. The Malfoy who had fallen to his knees, insistent on her pleasure. But now she knew - this was just another mask. A more subtle mask. Merlin, he was talented. The way he was looking at her was almost enough to make her second guess what she knew. Almost.
"Horny, Granger?
She normally hated that word - but not when he said it like that, rough and promising. It was true and there was no point denying it. She was doing what she needed to do - and the rage she felt had turned to desire. Weren't they nearly indistinguishable, when the object was as attractive as him?
She did not answer but instead ran her finger along her neckline. "I did some thinking."
"You mentioned that." His voice was choked. He reached for the hem, lifted it up and over her head. Her curls swished over her back and he gripped them in a fist. He was leaning over her, crowding her, leading. "About what?"
"How silly I've been."
"I don't think you're silly." It sounded sincere. She wanted to hit him. Instead she leaned to leave room between them and gripped his cock through his trousers. He watched her face. Surprisingly attentive, when her tits were out.
"That's kind of you. But I thought back today to a lot of what you've said to me - since the attack."
He pressed his hips toward her hand at the same time his eyes narrowed, evaluating her words like he scoped his chess pieces. He still thought he was two moves ahead, analyzing the possibilities. "And?"
"You've been very clear, Malfoy. About the lengths-" she palmed him firmly - "to which you'll go to help me heal." He nodded, once. His eyes would haunt her forever. As long as she lived she would remember the way they crinkled at the corners while he listened to her. The length of his lashes, blinking as he watched her face. He looked - trusting. The deception was unfathomable.
Hermione continued. "I want to move forward."
"With?" Strangled.
At that she leaned forward and kissed him gently. He was hesitant at first, but she pressed. Until he opened and reciprocated with the kisses she had come to love. Drugging. Intense. Persuasive. His cock was throbbing under her fingers. Her breasts were in his hands. He cupped them and stroked them carefully with his thumbs.
But he pulled back after a few minutes. "Move forward with what?"
"You said you weren't opposed. You said if and when I need it, we will."
"I want to hear you say it."
She thought back to how she'd felt the urge to drink him, to drain him as he'd done to her. "I want to take you inside me." The truth.
He'd been expecting it, and nodded slowly. Thinking. She moved her hand away from his cock and rested it on his chest. To where his purported heart beat. She waited. He liked to mull things over. Probably to figure out how best to manipulate the situation. How to control it.
She watched his face while he considered. "Alright," he finally said. More quietly than she expected. "Tonight?"
Careful, Hermione. She could mess it up if she wasn't.
"That's up to you." But she closed her eyes, intentionally. As if pained.
He tsked under his breath, but it wasn't chiding. "Tonight, then." He stepped back from her. "I'm just going to . . . shower." He sounded like he hadn't known how to finish the sentence when he started it.
"Would you like me to join you?" The awkwardness in her voice was genuine. She'd never showered with a man and did not want to start now.
"No," he said quickly. "I - I'll be right back."
When he left her room she sank into the mattress, breathing deeply. Testing the strength of that box. It'll hold, she assured herself. At least until morning.
Malfoy was gone longer than she thought a man who wanted to have sex would be. At least twice as long. Long enough that she was nearly drifting into a sad, exhausted sleep by the time he returned, wearing a towel slung over his hips. His hair was haphazardly dried, sticking in odd directions.
He paused in the doorway. "Did I lose you?"
"Mmm," she stirred. "No." She lifted her head to prove it. "Still here."
He walked toward her - but something was missing. His usual saunter, she realized. He sat solemnly on the edge of the bed. His back rippled with muscles. She forgot herself, for a moment, and ran a finger down his spine. As he'd done to her so many times. He shuddered, head tilted back with pleasure.
"You didn't seem that dirty when you arrived." A whisper.
He nodded in agreement. She wished she could see his face but he was looking at the closet door. Firmly closed, thankyouverymuch. "I was buying time."
"Afraid of me?"
He turned to appraise her. "Yes." But there was a glint in his eye.
She smiled, suppressing a laugh. "If I had feelings, they'd be hurt."
"Ah." He moved then, to kneel over her on the bed. "Don't take it personally." His hands moved to her hips - or rather, to the band of her leggings. "I, however, might take you still wearing these personally. Do you even want to do this?"
He was asking lightly, but she sensed the edge beneath it. The perennial question - are you sure? Yesterday, it would have touched her. Today, she saw it for the pretense it was. A facade of consent, to lure her in and trick her into feeling a false sense of control.
Who's in control now, she thought grimly. And surged up to kiss him. "I thought you might want to take them off yourself," she said against his mouth. He took advantage of her lips parting and pressed her into the pillows, his tongue against hers. He tasted wonderful. No, she reminded herself, he tastes like a traitor.
When Malfoy had kissed her thoroughly he peeled back and watched himself pull her leggings down, inch by inch, taking it in. She was surprised at her total lack of self-consciousness. Who cared what he thought? Not her. He's already hurt you as much as a person can hurt another. She shuddered at the truth, and he looked up, confidently smirking.
"Trembling already?"
"Yes."
"Nervous?" But at that he paused, a flash of doubt. "Haven't you-?"
"Been fucked before? Of course," she said roughly. A lie, depending on definitions - perhaps one of the biggest she'd ever told. "But I don't want to talk about it."
"Understood."
He finished pulling her leggings, leaned back and lifted her feet in turn to get them off. He turned his head and kissed up the inside of her right leg - her calf, her knee. Her thigh. She watched, as if outside of her body, as he propped her foot on his shoulder and bent down. He was between her legs then, and she closed her eyes. She didn't want to watch.
It was odd - the sensation of a man she needed to hate going down on her. As if she was acting in a scene instead of living it. For a moment she felt nothing in her brain, or her heart. It was simply physical. She almost laughed at that - it was probably what Malfoy had felt all along. Attractive bodies, rubbing together in various configurations until they produced expected results.
And he did produce an expected result.
Within minutes of his mouth on her cunt she came - hard. Her stomach contorted on itself. Her shoulders were off the pillows and she made a sound she didn't quite remember hearing before. Merlin.
He rose then, climbing up her body until he was above her, hands on either side of her head. His hair hung over his brow. His Dark Mark seemed to announce itself, visible on his left forearm. The rest of his torso, strong and rippled with muscles, blocked most of the light. The towel between them - the only thing between them - was rough against her lower half. "Was that enough to tide you over to morning?"
Maybe. But not enough for the rest of her life. She blinked, and it must have been convincingly innocent, because he got a strange look on his face. Guilt? she wondered. Could a person like him even feel something like guilt?
He waited for an answer though, his arms strong and possessive, caging her in. "No," she finally said. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to see if we can break that record we set in the cave."
Malfoy had not expected that. "Our, uh, record?"
"Four times, I think it was." She stated it like they were talking about the weather - inches of rain, or hours left of sunshine.
"Right." Malfoy's eyes widened ever so slightly. His pupils were dark. "Turn over then."
How was she supposed to come on her stomach? But she would be grateful not to have to look at him, so she rolled over immediately. He arranged her to this liking, moving her arms so that her hands were up by her head, and she was stretched out with her legs apart. She reveled in the softness of the duvet below her and the cool of the evening against her back.
Malfoy climbed off the bed and disappeared a moment, before returning and commanding her to be still and close her eyes. Something warm and slick was dribbled on her shoulders, then, and down her spine. Onto her arse. Oh. Damn it all, he knew how to get her.
She felt him straddle her legs and then he proceeded to play her like an instrument - his strong, large hands manipulating her muscles and skin until she was vibrating. He tickled and pinched and shoved in just the right spots across her bones and ribs and sides and bum until she was dying for similar attention between her legs.
"Want something?" he asked innocently. She had just lifted her hips into the air -involuntarily, to her chagrin - and made a little sound. Malfoy was rubbing a finger across the small of her back, massaging the dips above her arse.
"You know I do," she grunted.
"Do you think you're ready?" It was a rhetorical question and she told him so. He laughed.
Slipping a finger between her legs - finally - he confirmed that she was, and she rewarded him by spreading her knees wide.
It was his turn to grunt. "Got me again."
She nearly came at that, but wriggled her hips hoping to capture more of his attention. He cupped her cunt in his hand, lightly rubbing her clit with a single finger - and she crashed, loudly, into another orgasm.
Fuck. It went on and on. She was glad he couldn't see her face, contorted as it was.
That might have been the best one yet. Why, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was the massage, and knowing he was hard beneath his towel, and feeling the air against her most sensitive place.
When the waves of pleasure had faded, she feebly tried to lift herself up on her forearms, but his hand was on her shoulders. Keeping her down.
"Not yet." His voice was strained. She hadn't heard him like that since the bath.
"Planning to fuck me from behind?" she asked softly. She hadn't imagined it would happen like that - but now that she was able to lie on her stomach and not watch him betray her in real time - it was easier this way.
"Yes," he said simply.
She shivered. Malfoy was off the bed then, getting something. A pillow, she realized, as he returned and lifted her hips up and slid it beneath her.
"You're making sure I won't have to do any work."
"Exactly," he confirmed. He was arranging her again, adding another pillow so that her hips were high in the air, and her legs were spread, and her feet placed just-so. "I want you to do nothing but feel it."
"Is this how you fuck all your women?" she asked, arse up, resting her face on her hands.
"No." She heard the towel drop. "Next time I'll expect more from you. But, for now, you'll relax - and heal."
She swallowed the bitterest of laughs. Heal. His cock was about to be a sword driven straight into her heart.
His patience had come to an end, because he was climbing behind her. His skin against hers - his warm thighs. The little hairs on his calves tickled. She felt how hard he was, bobbing against her cunt.
He ran his hands over her bottom, up her back, down her shoulders and arms until his fingers interlaced over hers. He was stretched over her like a protector. Of course he wanted me like this, she thought. The better to make me feel safe.
"Granger?" He'd said her name twice already while she was lost in her thoughts. "I want to hear you say it."
She couldn't, though.
"Say it." It was a command and a question and a plea.
"Don't hurt me, please." She would not say yes. Would not give him the satisfaction of bragging truthfully to his Death Eater friends at his party that Hermione Granger had begged for his cock.
Malfoy froze at that. But she just squeezed her eyes closed and his fingers between hers - twice.
"Right." There was hesitation there. Afraid he'd change his mind or stop them and have yet another painful conversation, Hermione lifted up, into him, so that his cock rubbed pleasantly against the moisture he'd teased from her.
That was enough. He was a man, after all. He released her hands and leaned back, taking her hips in his hands.
"If it hurts, I'm doing it wrong. So - tell me. And I'll adjust."
Unlike most moments preceded by great imagination and anticipation - this one was just as she had expected. Exquisitely, thrillingly, horrifically painful. In more ways than the obvious.
Malfoy gasped, loudly, a sound of pure pleasure.
Her body, which had begged him for more for months, betrayed her immediately. She was wet, to be sure - but he had pressed into her in one long, smooth motion. It hurt more than she had guessed it could - her muscles protesting. Hermione clenched, her instincts taking over to get this foreign intrusion out, but that made it worse.
She bit her lip to keep from crying, to stay silent. He moved - dreadfully unpleasant.
She was wondering how she could possibly make it through, praying to Merlin it would be quick - when he pressed a hand to her lower back and stopped.
"Hermione?"
He withdrew - relief - and she turned back. He was staring down at himself. Blood.
Mouth open, he looked at her face.
"What the fuck?"
His expression - she would never forget it. Every emotion she'd gone through that day - horror, realization, acceptance, determination - flitted across it in a moment. He looked like some kind of fallen angel on his knees between her legs, cock in his hand, shoulders hunched, hair in his eyes.
"You're a virgin."
"Were."
His eyes went wide. Shocked. "Why did you lie?"
Hermione shrugged. "I thought you'd say no."
"You would have been right." He practically spat it.
She pressed her lips together, and nodded. Here we are.
"I can't believe - you're bleeding."
"Is it a lot?" She couldn't see, he had c lambered off of her and snatched up the towel he'd discarded after his shower.
"No, but -" He folded it into a rough roll and pressed it between her legs. She caught brief sight of his dick. He was . . . no wonder it hurt. "Stay still."
He went into the bathroom, and she closed her eyes to avoid the image of his bare backside. When he returned he'd looped another towel around his waist. He handed her a potion - pain relief. A strong one. "Take this."
She did, and he sat beside her on the bed. She was still spread eagle, pillows under her hips. He pulled them out from under her and rolled her onto her side, the towel still between her thighs.
His face was confusing. Suppressed anger, for sure - but also he seemed sad.
"You should have told me. Also - how?"
"That question is exactly why I didn't."
"I meant it as a compliment."
"But it isn't." She moved to sit up, and winced. Malfoy's fury was evident. "It's insulting. I've simply never had the opportunity." He snorted. "And I don't believe in this societal concept of 'virginity.' Sex is like anything else - you haven't done it until you have. I wanted to rip the bandage off and get on with it."
He was shaking his head. "I hurt you."
"If not you, someone else."
"But - maybe I could have prevented it. Been - better." He was awkward, twisting the hair at the crown of his head.
"Have you fucked a lot of virgins?"
"No," he admitted. "Never."
"See - another reason I didn't want you to know. You would have probably assumed I was going to get all emotional and cry or something."
His silence confirmed.
"But - I'm not."
He sighed heavily, and she reached out and put a hand on his leg, just below where the towel ended. "No," he said firmly, and pushed her off.
She hadn't considered this - that he would simply refuse.
"Malfoy, please. Truthfully, I didn't think you'd even notice. I've read about it - a lot of witches don't bleed at all. I - I want to finish."
He examined her face skeptically. "I couldn't even if I wanted to - I'm done for the night."
"My blood hasn't bothered you before. You took me to your pool, just a couple of days ago."
"That was different."
"How?"
"That was natural. This - I hurt you." He said it like it should be obvious to her.
Hermione wasn't sure how to argue with that. Go ahead, hurt me. What's another wound, after what you've done? "This was a necessary hurt."
He didn't believe her, but she leaned forward and placed her hand on his leg again. You cannot let him leave. You need what this will give you - to turn on him.
You need your magic for what's to come.
"Draco." His eyes snapped to hers. "Please."
She leaned forward. Kissed him. His mouth was unyielding, hard, firmly closed. A challenge.
So she nipped at his lips, kissed the corners, ran her tongue lightly over them. She held his neck, ran her hands into his hair. Pulling him to her. She twirled it in her fingers.
He sighed, opening his mouth. That sounds like information you should withhold from your enemy. And she took advantage, pressing her tongue into his.
"I need this." A plea.
He kissed her back. He kissed her and kissed her - like he was apologizing. Careful, firm, sweet. Responsive, following her lead. And then, taking over when she leaned back, flat onto the bed.
"Summon those pillows," she said, when he kissed her neck and palmed her breasts. She meant it.
"I don't think it's a good idea," he mumbled, but she knew she had him. He was sucking lightly, darkening the bruise on her neck.
"Just go slow. I'll tell you if it hurts. The potion - it worked right away."
He reached, hesitantly, between her thighs, and made an almost sad sound when he found her wet. He rubbed his fingertip against her, gently, testing.
"You doubted?"
"I suppose I shouldn't have."
"Lay me down," she whispered in his ear, tugging his hair. "Like you had me before."
He did as she asked, methodically - an executioner who pities his victim - and rearranged her like she'd been, her hips in the air, him behind.
"You'll tell me - if it hurts at all?"
"Yes."
Then he was pulling his towel away, rubbing her backside admiringly with one hand, and aligning himself with the other. He slid into her, slowly. Very slowly.
The potion had worked - she didn't know why she hadn't thought to take it in advance. Stupid, stupid. You nearly ruined the whole plan.
With the pain gone it allowed her to focus on the strength of him, the pressure of their connection. She felt every inch of his presence. So strange, she thought. To be filled by another person. There was nothing like it.
Never would be anything else like it.
As he entered her body, as they each made an involuntary noise she could only describe as instinct, Hermione wished he could keep going. It was so good and awful she would have preferred he slide deeply enough that he would pierce her heart and end her right there. She did not want to wake up from this. Did not know if she could.
In hindsight she wished she was looking at him - so that she could memorize his face and remember every second that he was a Death Eater, evil, her enemy. The power of their bond was such that when she could not see him, she was continually fighting to make herself remember. It felt as though he was everywhere - surrounding her, filling her, covering her.
Once the initial shock of how he felt faded, she was left with something even more devastating. How deliciously perfect their bodies were together. She closed her eyes against it, wishing it was not true. But as he moved behind and within her, she had to admit - this was it. She knew in her soul it was the best she would ever have. Which only made her more angry. She would not just lie here and take it. Would not give him the excuse to brag to his friends about 'Granger, the wet blanket,' limp against the power of his cock.
She pushed up with her hands and leveraged herself against the pillows he had placed. He knew what he was doing - it was comfortable. She could have stayed in this position for hours. Was that his plan? Well she could not take it for hours. That box she'd built in her chest was strong, but not that strong. She turned her head back, to see him.
A mistake.
He was fucking her firmly, his fingers spread over her waist, digging into her skin. He was moving her, watching where they were joined.
He looked - happy.
The barest of smiles. A genuine smile. It's not, she reminded herself. He's a cat that got its cream by any means necessary.
"Gods," he said, and his lips twitched. Soft. Coaxing. "This is - You are - unreal."
She nodded and turned away.
"Lean back," he said. "Into me."
She did it without thinking and something shifted - the pressure changed. Intensified. He paused, still inside her, and wrapped an arm around her stomach, holding her. "I want to feel you come on my cock." His voice was breathy, quiet. Like he was trying to hold back. She shuddered and her cunt clenched around him.
"How long have you wanted that?" She had to know what he'd say.
He laughed quietly into her ear, which earned him another involuntary squeeze. "It's all I've thought about . . . ." He cut himself off. "For a while."
They moved like that for a few minutes, him behind and against her. His free hand came up and played with her tits, which got her arching backwards into him. Gods. She was going to come.
"I think you're getting wetter," Malfoy whispered. "How is that possible?"
"You're the wizard. You tell me."
It came out more harshly than she intended. But he took the bait.
Keeping his mouth at the shell of her ear, he told her. "I think we fit together better than either of us expected. The second I got inside you we both made the same sound. I won't ever forget it. Your body was made for my cock, Granger."
"Maybe your cock was made for my cunt," she retorted.
He kissed her ear, her neck. "Maybe it was." So soft she couldn't have heard it if she hadn't been listening. "And I think you're going to come on it in a minute, harder even than you did the last time - and that was the hardest orgasm I'd ever felt."
"From me?"
"Ever." He sucked lightly on the bruise again. Malfoy's Mark.
"I suppose you've probably given me more orgasms than you've ever given to anyone else." She tried to sound plucky but instead it came out - sad.
He moved to her other ear. "Yes. And I think it's time to add to the tally."
His hand left her tits and moved down between her legs. He rubbed her - once, twice - and she shattered against him. Her body seemed to know that he was inside and put on a show for his dick, massaging it the way he'd done to her back. Which, unfortunately, only heightened her pleasure.
Ginny had been right when she suggested that they step it up. This was it. Orgasms on Malfoy's fingers all these months had been bandages. This was the cure. She could feel it in her bones, in her heart, in her mind. In her soul. She cried out, head back against his shoulder.
Malfoy kept fucking her, steady and patient. "That's it."
When she was on the way down he laid her forward, back on the pillows, and picked up his pace. "Ready to tie the record?"
"No," she sighed. Yes. "What are you doing?"
"Testing my control." He laughed. "You're the final challenge."
"I'm not sure how much more I can take."
"Just a little longer. The next one will feel different."
He pulled the pillows out, one at a time, until she was flat on her stomach. He spread her legs, wider than she thought they could go, and practically laid down on top of her, his chest warming her back. One of his forearms - his right, there was no mark, propped him up, fingers tangled in her curls. His thrusts became shallow, different - Merlin.
He was hitting something inside her. And then she felt him slide his other hand between her belly and the mattress, palm against her skin . . . and press.
Gods.
"What are you doing?" Her voice shook.
"You're going to come from just my cock this time."
"I don't know if I can."
"You can. We're not in a rush."
"Malfoy-"
"Be quiet and close your eyes. Focus on the feeling. You should feel like I'm tugging you from inside."
He moved and moved and moved - and yes, she did. "Oh."
He put more of his weight against her back and her stomach. "Chase it," a breath in her ear. She squeezed him with tender muscles and he smiled against her neck.
Chase it, she did. She was in a tunnel that ran from her brain to her cunt, and she was flowing through it, following a vibration in the dark. His cock was reeling her in, down, into her body - deeper and deeper.
Ah, was her only sound. Malfoy was right. It started differently than every other orgasm he'd given her. It wasn't a waterfall or a ledge or a cliff - it was a flood inside her. She did not fall over - she rose. Up and into the pleasure.
She put her hand to her face. It was wet.
There really weren't words. This sensation - it could only be called magic.
Malfoy felt it too - and cried out behind her. "Gods." Then, it was them both. Together. On and on, the power of his pleasure propelling her even higher.
He moved until he couldn't any longer, and collapsed against her back. He was heavy, and sweaty, and hot. He shifted, pulling out of her. His cock softened against her thighs. They were both covered in a film of their own filth. It was comforting, in a way, to feel that he had been as affected, physically, as she was.
They lay like that, breathing heavily, for several minutes. His heart beat against her back. She tried not to hear a message in it. What was he thinking?
When their breath returned to normal cadence, he gripped her and rolled onto his side, pulling her into him. Wrapped his arms around her like there was no other option, like two people who had accomplished something like that together had no choice but to intertwine their legs and arms. And hearts -
But then she jolted - she had forgotten, for an instant, about the truth. Who he was.
A silence fell. Had he fallen asleep? She wondered what time it was. She didn't like this quiet cuddle - it gave her too much time to think.
And think Hermione did. Malfoy had taken that box in her chest and shaken it until it cracked. Pain was welling up within her where pleasure had just paved a path. She knew, now, how it could be between them.
Pain gave way to regret. Regret that she'd gone into that cave so many months ago. Regret that she ever squeezed his hand twice. Regret that she wore his jumper. Regret that she didn't flee the minute Kirby spilled his secrets that afternoon.
Once you know something you can't un-know it. And now she would have to live for the rest of her life with the memory of this. Of what they'd done in this bed. Of how it had felt. Of how he felt, now, against her skin, their sweat cooling together.
She must have shivered because Malfoy moved an arm to take one of her hands in his. "How are you feeling?" He played lightly with her fingers, dipping his own against and between them.
Physically? Fantastic. Emotionally? Unspeakably awful. "Sticky."
"Mmm." He nosed at the back of her head. "That's perfect, because I still owe you a record-breaker and I know just how to give it to you."
She couldn't. No more. "Okay."
There was another pause, but this time she sensed he had something he wanted to say. It was on the tip of his tongue. How was it? He liked feedback, that much had become clear.
She kept her lips pressed together. If he asked outright she was prepared. Yeah, thanks for that. Got the job done. Or the dreaded 'nice.'
Malfoy didn't ask, though. Just kept playing with her fingers until finally it was unbearable.
Hermione was the first to crack. She pulled away, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her tits were out. His eyes were on them as he lay there, looking up at her.
"I thought you'd be over these now that you've had it all." She gestured at her chest.
He grinned. "You thought wrong. I barely got to see them this time."
This time. She turned away so he wouldn't see her face. He thought, of course, there would be more times. He didn't realize he had about another hour before she shoved him out of her bedroom, out of her flat, out of her life. Another hour before she ran to Harry to make a plan to kill him, preferably. Malfoy still thought he had one over on her, little naive Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's Idiot, who would fall for anything and open her legs for any Death Eater who took the time. Tears sprang into her eyes and she wiped them hurriedly with the back of her hand. You cannot prove him right - the virgin who cried. But that made it even harder to stop.
"Granger?" He sat up behind her. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine." Her voice cracked. Nice job. Convincing.
His hand was on her shoulder, firmly trying to turn her toward him. She resisted.
"Tell me."
There was only one answer. Any other answer would break that box in her heart wide open and reveal to him that she knew. Putting her, and Harry, and the entire magical world at risk. She played it the only way she could.
"I'm just so relieved," she said softly. And let herself be turned. He lifted her chin with a knuckle. Wiped at the tears on her cheeks with another.
She opened her eyes just enough to see his face. A mask of faux concern. "Relieved?"
Hermione nodded. "I feel . . . almost cured. Like I did . . . before."
His brows furrowed. "Before the attack?"
She smiled weakly at him. "Yes. I can't even describe it. Ginny was right. I think . . . doing that . . . was it. I'm back."
Her words appeared to have thrown some kind of stasis spell over Malfoy. He was still as a statue looking at her. Finally he turned his head away, behind him and toward the window. "Cured?"
He wasn't happy. Back off, Hermione. Don't provoke him. "Well - maybe not quite. I still think . . . if you don't mind . . . that we should go for one more. The shower?"
He did not look at her. "One more."
"Well, we'll have to see how I feel tomorrow and in the days to come." She smiled so he would hear it in her voice. Chirpy. "But I can tell you right now - I don't just feel the temporary relief I usually do. I feel . . . happy."
He turned and scrutinized her expression. Careful, careful. He is looking for a sign.
She maintained her smile. "I can't believe it. You're a miracle worker."
"Huh." He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I'm surprised."
"Why's that?"
"The book. Other wizards' experiences. It reportedly took . . . longer to heal the other victims."
Hermione shrugged. "You've been working on me for months. I can only tell you how I feel. And, frankly, I feel . . . wonderful." She dared a little laugh to punctuate it.
Malfoy's eyes had spent a lot of time on her face in the past several weeks. But the intensity of his gaze in that moment beat them all. It scared her. Hermione felt cracked open. Like he could see her thoughts.
She stood abruptly. "Shall we eat something?"
"Sure." He stood nonchalantly and picked up his wand. Two robes appeared. Matching emerald - Malfoy's was the larger twin to the one he'd given her before. Hermione pulled hers on, grateful to be covered. The more protection she had, the better.
She followed him into the kitchen, where he had stashed their dinner. Little white boxes - Chinese takeaway. Hermione was a sucker for Chinese takeaway.
"I'm surprised you'll eat this."
He busied himself, pulling out plates. "My elves are off for the night."
Of course - the holiday. She'd forgotten. There were children in their beds, all over the world, excited for morning. She couldn't believe that she'd ever been one of them.
She sat at the table, watching, as he arranged their plates. Looking for any signs. How had she missed it? But there were none. He was unflappable. Thank the gods for Kirby and his loose lips, or you'd never have known.
Malfoy set her food in front of her and poured wine. They ate in silence, but the conversation she knew he wanted to have hung between them. A review of his performance, no doubt. She stole a glance at the clock over the door. It was very late.
She could not speak to him. Or look at him. What would she even say, about how it had been? Too bad you haven't fucked more virgins, you're pretty good at it. He was Malfoy, he didn't need to hear how good he was in bed. He already knew - it was evident in his confidence, in the way he moved them, in the words he'd whispered in her ear.
But per usual, he was watching her. Probably to evaluate her consumption. Put on a show, girl. Or he'll suss out your lies. In truth, her stomach churned at the meal. It was too perfect - insanely good sex and matching robes and wine and Chinese food in the dark. Fuck him. But if she was truly better, she'd be starving. So she ate it all, matching him bite for bite.
When they set their forks down he leaned back in the chair that was too small for him and picked up his glass. Finished his wine, his long fingers wrapped gracefully around the bowl. "That's the most I've ever seen you eat."
Hermione wiped her lips delicately with her napkin and picked up her own glass. Down the hatch, Granger. You're almost there. She eyed him over the rim as she took a generous sip. "I told you, I feel so much better."
Malfoy's expression was inscrutable. "What about the visions? From the monster?"
"You mean the horrors of the whole world, played on an endless loop behind my eyes?" She chuckled at her own little joke. His face was blank. "The memories linger, but I'm able to compartmentalize them, if that makes sense."
"And your magic?"
Don't miss a beat. "Accio wand." It flew into the kitchen from the mantle and appeared in her hand. The weight of it was a familiar old friend. There was something in it that reminded her - she didn't need this traitor. She pointed it at his throat. "May I hex you?"
He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed. "Well. I guess Potter and Weasley had the right of it. Fucking was the answer."
Hermione finished her wine and stood. "One more, for old time's sake?"
Malfoy looked up at her, brow furrowed. "So that's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if this is temporary? What if you feel terrible again tomorrow?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'll owl you."
"Really?"
"Unless you're too busy."
"No," he said. "I'm - I'll make myself free. If you need me."
She could sense an undercurrent of unease. Probably because he hasn't used you for whatever he wanted yet. She knew she should back off. If he thought she was out of reach he might react unpredictably. "Healing isn't linear, of course," she conceded, feigning thoughtfulness. "I feel better tonight - but you're right. That could change. I - I hope you won't be upset if I reach out." She batted her eyelashes.
Malfoy looked strange. Like he had something stuck in his throat. He cleared it and stood. "Like you said - one more for old time's sake."
"Last call?" she joked, as she walked ahead of him out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.
"Pub's closing," he confirmed.
She laughed. "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here." A real laugh.
Malfoy didn't laugh. He just crowded up against her, closing the door behind them. He leaned down and smelled her head.
"I'm sure I'm disgusting," she said, stepping away.
"Never." His tone was tight. He moved around and past her, forcing more contact than was strictly necessary, and turned on the water. He's panicking that he's going to have less control of you. Less access.
Determined to distract him, Hermione dropped her robe while his back was turned, earning her a double-take when he looked.
"You're feeling better."
"How can you tell?"
He shrugged and removed his own robe. "You're different." It was the first time she'd really had the chance to see him - his unclothed body, the cock he'd kept carefully hidden from her. She didn't understand why - it was, objectively, a fine one. Most men with that thing between their legs would be dying to show it off. He didn't quite look real.
"The power of a good fuck."
"So it seems," he said flatly.
"Cheer up, Malfoy," she urged. "If all goes well you're about to be relieved of the burden of checking in on me morning and night and mucking about between my legs to get me to eat."
He did not respond. Instead, he pulled her into his body, wrapping his arms around her back. They were chest to chest, skin to skin. She wasn't sure what to do with her face - so she laid her ear over his heart and her hands on his hips. Hermione supposed it was the tender thing to do.
They stood like that for a long time, Malfoy holding her. She imagined that they probably looked like a couple, naked and holding each other in the burgeoning steam. Lies on lies.
Finally, Malfoy spoke. "No goodbyes, Granger." His voice was the roughest she'd ever heard it. "Look at me."
She did and he kissed her. Hard. Thoroughly. Oh. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her some more. His mouth invaded, made her dizzy, distracted her from anything else. Her traitorous body responded, pressing into him and lifting a leg to try to increase the friction between them.
He pulled away and kissed beneath her ear, licked the mark he'd made. "Let's make it a good one."
Okay. She nodded and lifted her arms, wrapped them around his neck.
"Tell me what you want," he said.
"To not think."
"Same." He kissed her shoulder.
What did that mean? Was he feeling guilty? But she didn't have time to ponder it because he picked her up - full on lifted her, moving her legs so they wrapped around his waist - and stepped into the shower.
It was an odd sensation, to be held like this, naked, by a man. More comfortable than she would have expected. Malfoy supported her weight with a hand under her arse as he pressed her through the hot spray and against the wall. The tile was cool against her back. He looked up into her face and caught her eyes for a moment. They stared at each other. How could you? she wanted to ask. And why?
She felt his fingers shift beneath her - testing her cunt.
"Wet already?" he asked. A hint of his familiar arrogance. Whatever had been weighing him down, he had left it outside the shower door.
"My body is like one of Pavlov's dogs with you around," she retorted. That earned her an actual, deep laugh from him. He traced something in her slickness and her inner muscles clenched.
"Touché."
"How do you even know about that? He was a Muggle scientist."
"He wasn't. It was dragons, not dogs. But I need you to shut up and come, Granger. We have a record to set."
Come she did, within a minute, as he wielded his fingers like a wand. Magic. It was a gentle orgasm, coaxed from her as much by the newness of their positioning and the sensations of the hot steam and cold wall and warm, wet body against hers as by his hand.
"That was good," she said against his shoulder. Her head had fallen forward at the pleasure. "You can put me down now."
"Oh I don't think so. That was the aperitif."
"For whom?"
"Both of us."
"But I already came four times before that."
He shifted her slightly and she felt his cock. "May I?" he asked.
He could have asked if she would accept a cruciatus in that moment and she would have agreed, such was her level of relaxation. How have you never showered with him before? It's heavenly.
She nodded into his skin.
"Say it," he insisted.
Forgetting herself and her earlier rule, she said it. "Yes."
It felt different this time, as he entered into her. The water and the positioning increased the friction. It was more intense. Malfoy felt it too, and made the same deep sound she'd only heard from him once before - in her bedroom, an hour ago. "Hold onto me as tight as you can."
She did. He held her, too, pinning her roughly to the wall so that he could move inside her. "Look at how strong you've gotten," he said to himself. Wonderingly. "You couldn't have done this just a few days ago."
That was a good point. He was right. The energy required for this was greater than Hermione could have mustered on the couch as early as this afternoon. Damnit, Ginny. She hated having to admit when someone else was right.
"All credit to you," she whispered, to fill the silence. Mistake, because he liked that. Too much. With a grunt of pride he began to pound into her, in even, deep strokes that left no time for analyzing or questioning or reflecting. No thinking. Their bodies moved together - hers responding to his rhythm - and she buried her face in Malfoy's neck.
He fucked her like that for - who could say how long? Long enough that he seemed to be waiting for something. Like he was trying to drag it out. Like he didn't want it to end. After a few minutes she felt something building within her. The same sensation he'd given her on her stomach in her bed. He was pushing her toward pleasure with the pressure of his cock and his body.
She lifted her face to say something in his ear but kissed it instead - and he moaned. Loudly. Oh. Of course. You're not the only one who likes that. She explored it, nibbling at his lobe and tracing her lips around the shell. "So sensitive."
He pounded her harder in response. So she shifted slightly to mess with his other ear, and his neck, and his jawline. He definitely liked that, judging from his increasingly erratic movements. "I know you're holding off. But I want you to come again. It felt so good."
"Did it?" He spoke like he was being strangled.
"Where did you learned to fuck like this?" she asked softly. "I'd like to thank her and kill her."
"I could ask the same of you."
"But you know my answer," she said, making sure her lips brushed against the delicate lines of his ear. "You're quite the instructor."
"Jeal-" he started to say, but then he was exploding inside her, shoving Hermione hard against the shower wall and making a satisfied sound deep in the back of his throat. She held him tightly through it, reveling in the strength and maleness of him, running her fingers through the wet hair on his head, pulling it and memorizing it all.
He slowly came to a shuddering halt.
A pause. The water splashed over them, a reminder that time was marching on. No matter how much she hoped it would stop.
Then he withdrew and helped her step to the ground. Her legs were jelly and she stumbled. "Careful," he muttered, catching her and holding her up by an arm.
She stepped toward the shower door but he gripped her tighter. "You're not finished."
"We've been in here for, like, a half hour."
"Get under the spray." He moved her, gentle but firm, so that the water was sluicing over her body. Malfoy handed her the shampoo after pouring some into his own hand. While he scrubbed at his scalp he didn't take his eyes off her, watching appraisingly as she washed her own head. When that was done she obeyed the twirl of his finger that said turn around.
And let him wash her - every inch of her, from her neck to her toes. He even washed her cunt, slipping the bar between her legs teasingly and earning a little squeal.
When Malfoy made it down to her knees he knelt on the floor, soaping her calves and lifting her feet, one by one. He kissed her left leg - the bone on her ankle, the inside of her knee, her inner thigh. Hermione steadied herself against the wall. He was so careful, so thorough. So slow. She would not guess at why, not right now. She knew what he was about to do.
Indeed, he looked up at her, water dripping from his hair and eyelashes, running in rivulets down the sharp planes of his face. "Please?"
She nodded and leaned back into the wall. He lifted her leg, placed her thigh over his shoulder, and pressed in between her legs. She watched him breathe her in. At least you know it's clean.
And then he proceeded to kiss her. Lazily. Savoring. Her hands rested on his other shoulder and the top of his head. She played with his wet hair. He delved into her with his tongue and she grunted. He avoided, for a long time, the place where it ended. But when her fingers were wrinkled and she was pretty sure his knees were starting to hurt - they must be - he accepted his victory, and finished her. She moaned, long and low, and he slipped a finger into her while her muscles throbbed.
Perfection.
Malfoy stood, slowly. Silently. Turned off the water and stepped away from her. She did not look at his face and she sensed that he was deliberately not looking at hers. While she wrung the water from her hair he reached for the shelf where she kept clean towels and grabbed two. Handed her one. She watched as he dried himself off. His body could have been a model for a statue in a museum. She especially liked the lines on his hips and his calves. How would those taste? Shaking her head to clear the thought, she focused on herself. Dried her arms, her torso, her legs. Under her breasts.
He was waiting, offering a hand to help her over the shower door ledge. She accepted it, gripping his fingers tightly. The assist was unnecessary; they both knew it.
He turned her and wiped her back with his towel. His fingers flexed against the skin on her neck, his thumb brushing her pulse and his Mark. And - that was the end.
Wordlessly he left the bathroom and closed the door. Hermione used the moment alone to open her cabinet and swallow a contraceptive. One that wasn't new, she had brewed it long ago - just in case someone was interested. Curious, she also scanned the labeled bottles Malfoy had left under the sink. None of them were for that specific purpose. She frowned - contraceptives were standard in many potion sets. Though - it didn't matter. She brushed her teeth and smeared some lotion on her face.
The inevitable had come crashing down as soon as he vacated the bathroom. She took a breath. Time to kick him out. She knew she had to end it quickly, lest she falter.
But when she opened the door to do just that, towel clutched around her chest, Malfoy was standing there in the hallway - fully dressed, his hair magically smoothed and his shoes on. "That was fun, Granger."
Which part?
She nodded awkwardly but did not speak.
"Let me know how you're doing . . . if you ever need a top off." He winked. "I'm available to oblige."
He turned, and walked down the hallway. He opened the door. There was, perhaps in her imagination, a millisecond of hesitation. But then he was gone, his bright hair out of sight. She heard the click.
Fin.
Head light, she walked into her bedroom. He'd changed the sheets - where were the dirty ones? - and made the bed. Worried that he'd looked at her embarrassing collage again, she opened the closet door, but they weren't there.
She supposed she should be grateful, as she stood in the center of her room. At least he'd left willingly. She hadn't had to ask him to send for Ginny and Harry, hadn't had to lie and persuade him that she was better. He had seen it for himself. She had been convincing.
The weight of it all pressed into Hermione's shoulders, her chest. Her heart. You fucked him, she thought, over and over. You had sex with him, you used him, and he used you, and then he left. Most unfortunately, it had been so good - magic between them. She pulled on fresh pajamas and, yes, her green robe. It smelled faintly of him. Crawling under the covers - Merlin, these sheets were nice - she curled into a ball on her side.
She needed to contact Harry. As soon as possible. While her strength was at its peak.
But it wasn't possible, not right now. First, she had some pain to confront. The tears didn't come. She simply lay there, her heart pounding so hard she thought - hoped - it might get exhausted and stop. Hours passed - the moon moved into and then out of sight in her window. She replayed the last several months - every moment. Every touch. Every meal. Every orgasm. It made her sick, how convincing Malfoy had been. How thoughtful. How intentional. A conniving Death Eater through it all.
He had wanted her to stay alive - for his own reasons. To gain access to Harry. That was most likely.
She wished she could sleep.
But - there were things to do. Just a few more minutes of laying here, feeling sorry for herself. What are you even sad about? You mustn't care about Malfoy. You knew he was bad to begin with - and now it's been confirmed. And yet. There were so many moments when he hadn't, in fact, been bad. When he'd helped her to eat, and sleep, and bathe. When he'd lent her clothes and read to her and beaten her at chess. When he'd walked with her on the moors. When he'd kissed her, wanting and generous.
When he'd made her laugh. The laughter was the worst. Echoes of their jokes and conversations and little arguments filled her head. Hermione felt powerless to banish them. Did not want to banish them.
When the darkness began to fade into dawn Hermione finally dragged herself from bed. She pulled off the robe, hung it in her closet - closing the door tightly - and went into the living room. She found a blank piece of parchment.
Ginny, Harry -
Happy Christmas. I would like need to see you. Urgently. This morning, if you can. I have an exciting update!
HG
She could not be honest, lest Malfoy intercepted it somehow. She would not put it past him. She also imagined that he was listening to her - though perhaps it was just his lingering presence in her flat. But, just in case he could hear - when Ginny and Harry arrived they would go out, for a walk. They'd go somewhere Malfoy could not predict. And then, she would tell her friends. Warn them - about the Death Eaters. The party. The plans for something.
She sent off the owl, dressed in real clothes, and waited. Had a tea. Ate a leftover biscuit. Practiced using her wand, and her magic. It was back.
They came around lunchtime.
Hermione blinked against the cold and the afternoon sun. They had just emerged from a Muggle pub - surely the last place Malfoy or his minions would expect them to go. Harry and Gin, grim faced, were on either side of her.
"I don't need you to hover," she insisted. "I really am fine. I feel great, physically." She could feel them exchange a look behind her back and she rolled her eyes. "Please don't."
"You can't go home, though," said Ginny gently. "Come and stay with me."
Hermione had to begrudgingly admit that was wise. Malfoy had access to her flat. She was vulnerable there. If he got wind of their plans - well, it simply couldn't happen.
"Yes, alright," she agreed. "I'll need clothes -"
"You can borrow from Gin," assured Harry. "Of all the things, please do not worry about that." They walked together, in a heavy silence.
The three had spent hours in the pub, sipping Muggle fizzy drinks and looking, paranoid, over each other's shoulders to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
Hermione had been surprised, actually. Harry was the most reluctant to believe the extent of Malfoy's betrayal. He'd made her recount, word for word, exactly what Kirby had said. And parsed it carefully. "His elf didn't actually say why Malfoy wants to meet with those people, though, did he?"
"For He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," screeched Ginny. "To celebrate his birthday."
Harry hushed her. "I know that's what the elf said. But we don't really know, do we?"
Hermione shook her head slowly. "No. But I thought of that. It's Malfoy, Harry. Why would he gather the children of the Death Eaters except for something nefarious?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe as a favor to his mother. Maybe he's looking for a Pure Blood girl to marry." Hermione flinched. "Maybe he wants to get information from them."
"For what purpose," she insisted, as Ginny looked on, nodding vigorously. "Information for what?" And if that was it - why couldn't he have told her about it?
Harry was unconvinced. "It just doesn't make sense. He worked so hard, in that cave, to figure out how to escape. In the months since, to get you healthy. And now, he's apparently going to leave you alone, at your indication. Why would he do all that if he was planning some Death Eater resurgence?"
"He's his father's son," Ginny pointed out. "Why are they evil? Why did he try to kill Dumbledore? It's unanswerable, Harry. But it doesn't really matter, does it? We have to stop him before they do whatever it is they're planning."
"That's just it - what could they be planning?" Harry traced the rim of his glass thoughtfully. "These people don't have power anymore. Most of the heirs Malfoy is gathering are young. Or distant relatives, thrust into these roles and riches in the last couple of years as heads of old families."
"But traditions die hard," insisted Hermione. "Just because the Carrow cousins weren't ever planning to be in charge of the family's fortunes and lands doesn't mean they weren't supporters of Voldemort." It was Ginny's turn to flinch. "And it would make perfect sense if Malfoy wanted to take charge when they're impressionable and without a leader. What better time?"
Harry conceded the point. "I hear you. I just . . . can't quite believe it of him."
That pushed Hermione over the edge. "You don't know him at all."
Ginny and Harry exchanged looks. "But he's been so possessive of you-"
"And?" snapped Hermione. "That's undoubtedly part of his master plan. To get close to you, Harry."
"If that's his plan he's done a poor job implementing it. I hardly heard from him at all."
Ginny confirmed. "He's only contacted us occasionally. And really - it was very focused on you, Hermione. Malfoy didn't ask about anything extraneous."
Hermione had to know in spite of herself. "What did he say about me?"
"Just making sure I'm in touch but not pushing you too hard. Early on, after you got out of the cave, he asked about how much you were walking, what foods you like, whether I thought your spirits are improving. That kind of thing."
She felt her cheeks redden. "Oh. Well. Still." A painful lance of doubt. Had she been wrong?
Hermione spent the night at Ginny's. It was strange - to be somewhere different. She'd managed to convince them to stop by her flat and pack a quick bag. Her old knapsack, finally emptied in a heap, and refilled. Clothes, books, notes, quills, potions, her face creams - she dumped it all in. Merlin knows when you'll be back.
They ate pizza for Christmas dinner - Hermione nearly had a whole one by herself. She was still ravenous. Thanks, Malfoy, she thought ruefully, as she took her fourth slice.
She tried, failed, to sleep. That was unfortunate - she was due to see her parents the next day. Her mum would surely comment that she looked tired.
But in the end, Harry's skepticism was short lived.
She and Ginny woke, on Boxing Day, to him returned from work at the Ministry, breathless and calling for them. His hair was mussed and his glasses and tie askew. Hermione had been on the couch and she stretched, muscles whinging.
"Gin! Hermione! You were right!" The Daily Prophet was in his hand, and he waved it as if they'd seen it already.
"Right about what?" Ginny scrambled, reaching for it. She'd rushed out of her room at the sound of his voice.
The headline flashed. Hermione stood slowly, disbelieving.
Harry and Ginny exchanged a Look.
The irony - the bitter fucking irony. She had worked so hard to hide the truth - that she was aware of his deception - from Malfoy.
It had all been pointless. He knew that she knew, now - the whole world knew.
If she'd waited just another few nights she'd still have her virginity, and perhaps her heart. She'd be able to walk without this persistent and agonizing soreness between her legs.
If she'd just waited one day - one day - it would have come out, all on its own.
Because on the front page, in bold, black letters:
Christmas Surprise: Lucius Malfoy Escapes from Azkaban!