"I did something bad," he whispered.

Hermione saw the pain in his silver eyes and how they had trouble keeping her gaze. Did she want to know what he had done? Would she even be able to do anything? If he did something so horrible, she could try to stay away, but that hadn't lasted long for her in the past. She would cave into him, she knew it already.

"Fuck me first before you tell me," she said, not wanting to feel the guilt of touching him after he admitting his wrongdoing.

Without skipping a beat, he scooped her up into his arms, taking her to the bed. He laid her down, pulling off his shirt before laying on top of her, kissing her throat.

"How do you want me to fuck you, baby?" he asked, his lips still pressed against her neck.

"Fuck me like a whore," she mananged to say breathlessly.

"Take your clothes off," he commanded after he stood from the bed.

Hermione sat up and began to slowly pull off her nightgown. "Like this?"

"Yes, baby, just like that," he said, watching her closely. She squeezed her breasts lightly and moaned, pouting her lip at him. "You're such a good fucking girl. Get on your knees."

Hermione obeyed, setting her knees on the ground, looking up at him. He rolled up his sleeves, his fangs poking from under his lips. She wondered what it would feel like if he drained her blood with him inside her.

"My pretty little whore." His hand went to her cheek and he kissed her forehead softly. "Take my cock out."

Not breaking eye contact, she slowly undid his pants. His cock was already semi-erect when she pulled it out and began to stroke him gently, using both hands to span the length of it.

"Spit on it."

She gathered a mouth full of spit, and let it drip from her tongue onto the head of his cock, rubbing her hands over it to spread it down.

His fingers weaved through her curls, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling it gently as she stroked him. Though he didn't instruct her to, she stuck her tongue out and gently licked the tip, tasting his precum.

It was salty and bitter and cold, but she liked it. She especially liked how his eyes went wide as she tasted him.

"Fuck," he breathed out. "Open your mouth."

He leaned down and spit into her parted lips. The cold shock made her go feral, and she wrapped her lips around the head, trying to take him deeper into her mouth, but not being able to physically with how thick his cock was.

"Merlin, you're so fucking perfect. Get on the bed."

Hermione laid back onto the soft mattress, feeling the silk sheets under her. Draco drew his wand as he looked down at her naked body. The tip of it touched her knee, and she felt satin rope bind her calf against her thigh. He did the same to her other leg, and she laid bound with them spread apart.

Finally, he touched his wand to her wrists, and they tied together elegantly, the red satin making a bow, as if she was presented as a gift to him.

She was fully his, under his control, relinquishing any dignity she had to be tied up like a pig and fucked by him. His cock slid against her open cunt, making her whimper. He repeated the same motion, teasing her, making her drip.

"Draco…" she whispered.

"What is it baby? Do you want my cock in you?"

"Yes, so badly. Please give it to me."

"You're such a good little slut, asking so nicely, looking so fucking pretty. Do you know how pretty you are?"

Hermione looked up at him in awe. Like a sculpture someone took a great deal chiseling out every detail of him. Everything about his presence should have caused a sense of fear. The way his hulking figure loomed over her and made her feel small. How just one of his hands could wrap around her entire neck and take her breath away. Her body was tied up, helpless to his desires.

But she didn't fear him. Not right now.

"I asked you, Granger, do you know how pretty you are?"

She laid still, not answering him, just admiring how perfect he looked, and thinking about how much she wanted him.

"Say it, whore. Say that you're the prettiest slut in the world."

"I'm the prettiest slut," she murmured.

"Good girl," he said, slipping the head of his cock into her open hole. "You are mine, Granger."

"I'm yours," she repeated as he began to slide in and out of her, her wet cunt making it effortless. There was nothing more she wanted then to feel him dripping out of her. She wanted her thighs to be bruised as a sign that he was there.

There wasn't a care of concern at the moment for what he was going to say after. It didn't matter now. All that existed was the two of them, and she was bound to him.

"Do you like watching me fuck you?" he asked, looking into her eyes. His hands roughly grabbed onto the satin ropes around her thighs, making her whimper. Hermione nodded, biting her lip softly, letting her head fall back on the bed. "Use your words, baby."

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

"Yes what?"

"I love watching you fuck me. You're so beautiful, Draco," she gasped out.

His hand went to her throat, and he leaned down, to kiss her ear, whispering to her how good she felt, and how he wanted to stay inside her forever. Hermione's eyes rolled back into her head, hearing his sweet nothings while she lost her breath. It was so erotic. In all her years, she had never had someone handle her like this, with the perfect amount of force and care.

It hurt so good to her.

When they had both finished, and Hermione stopped begging for more, he unbound her arms and legs, and kissed all over her body.

Draco laid down, draping his arm over her. Turning to face him, she took his face in her hands, gently rubbing her fingertips against his temples.

"Who was it?" she asked, knowing the guilt on his face was likely from him killing someone she was close to in her childhood and through the war.

"Lee Jordan," he whispered, looking her directly in the eyes, an almost dead expression.

Hermione's stomach dropped, nearly wanting to recoil away from him. But she held firm, pushing it aside for just a moment.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid at the Carrows orchestrated by George Weasley. They got Bell and Johnson out."

"Did he suffer?" she asked, immediately regretting that she did.

"Yes."

She laid silently, trying to remind herself that Astoria was right, and that sometimes, he didn't have a choice. But it didn't make his actions hurt any less.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked her.

Her mind was conflicted, he had just kissed her entire body with a mouth he had likely used to rip away her friend's life. But all the people he had taken, whether by his own hand or by his direction, would be burned into the back of her mind.

Her throat was dry, but she managed to whisper out another question. "Do you feel guilt for what you've done to them or what you've done to me?"

"You. Always you."

He was a monster. A monster with its claws dug into her. More and more though, she didn't fault him, only herself who practically begged for him to sink his fangs into her.

"I think I'd like you to leave tonight. But that doesn't mean I won't want to see you tomorrow or the next day."

Draco rose, sitting at the edge of the bed facing away from her. His shoulders were tense, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"If they ever attempt to come here and take you back, I will kill them all without a second thought, no matter who it is."

"Draco…" she tried to reason with him.

"I won't feel an ounce of guilt if they enter my home and put any of you in danger. You are mine, Granger. They can have you back when I'm dead."

—

It was days before she saw him again. It wasn't because she didn't want to. Nearly immediately when she woke alone she regretted sending him away. But on top of having to clean up Voldemort's messes, he had to deal with the Order's too.

The note he had left her explained he'd be in Paris for a few days with Astoria. After giving a warning to Harry, he would go and find George's safe house, hopefully empty by the time he got there.

Hermione filled her time finding ways to preserve the longevity of the dragon scales and mapping where lethifolds could be found. Lethifolds were particularly dangerous, but between Theodore, Draco, and herself she was sure that they'd be able to wrangle one.

Being with the two of them brought back a feeling of nostalgia. For most of her life, she'd been attached at the hip with her best friends, traveling the world, laughing despite their world falling apart. It was difficult to wrap her head around that same comfort being emulated by two Death Eaters.

She and Theodore had books spread out on several tables in the library with a large map on the desk facing the window. Theodore had marked areas of confirmed sightings and deaths from lethifolds.

"You're really going to cook one of these things up for Astoria?" he asked, laughing at the notion.

"That's the plan," she replied, closing the book she was reading.

"Hermione, you're brilliant. Bloody mad, but brilliant," he remarked.

"Don't say that just yet, we don't know if it'll work."

Theodore wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze of assurance. "I have my full faith in you, Hermione Granger."

"Why thank you, Theodore Nott," she said, gently nudging him.

"Say, Hermione. How's your dueling?"

"Good enough to keep me alive until now, why?" she questioned him.

"Well, Draco asked me to practice with you."

She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Any particular reason why?"

"Uhh…" he trailed off, his hand going to the back of his neck, thinking on his next words. "Well, Dolohov thought of this crazy idea at dinner the other night."

"And that involves me and dueling somehow?" she asked, more confused than before.

"He thinks making the wards duel it out in front of an audience will be entertaining. Wants to see you fight purebloods because of how smart everyone keeps saying you are."

Hermione rolled her eyes, thinking of all the headlines of praise of the Order's muggle born Golden Girl. Her entire life had been defined by her wit and determination, but she was tired of being put on display.

"That's barbaric, Teddy."

"I know, Hermione. Nothing that fuck does is ever humane."

They made their way to the empty ballroom where they stood at opposite ends from one another. Theodore flashed his signature charming smile, and Hermione couldn't help but blush.

She shook her head in defeat. "I'm a little out of practice."

"Give it your all, Granger," he winked. "I promise, I can take it."

And she did give it her all. They had only casted small jinxes against each other so she could practice dodging and countering them. After about half an hour, she was back to her normal form. She wasn't the fastest or the best dualist, but she could easily predict someone's next move by their stance or how they began to move their wand. They were at it for a few hours, her skin being peppered with stinging hexes and small cuts, and she threw them back in near equal force to Theodore.

They began to escalate the spells they were casting, knocking each other around the ballroom. Some of it was painful, which she knew that Theodore didn't intend, but she bit back her reactions and kept matching him move for move.

Of course Draco would be overly cautious and worry that Hermione's skills were lessened by her time away from the battlefield, however, it almost offended her that he thought she needed to practice as if she would be helpless in a duel.

"Damn, Hermione. Maybe its me who needs to practice with you," Theodore laughed, dabbing the sweat away from his head with one of Astoria's decorative towels.

Hermione laughed with him, wiping her brow with the sleeve of her shirt, but went quiet after a second.

"Teddy, did we ever fight each other out there?"

She didn't know. How could she have with the chaos of war and the mask he wore to conceal his face? She hoped that they didn't, but over a war that ravaged for so long, there was a high likelihood that they would have.

"A few times, I never really was one to kill though, so I don't think you paid me much mind. And my job is mainly in the magical creature department, so in more recent years I've seen less of the fighting. You're fierce out there, a real warrior if I'd ever seen one."

Hermione paused, reflecting on her actions in the war, remembering times of her cruelty and brutality. "I've killed some of your friends, haven't I?"

Theodore sighed, but quickly returned to his happy demeanor. "We've all given and taken in this war. Don't be too hard on yourself."

The front door to the manor opened, and Hermione could hear Astoria's giggles from the main entrance. A nervousness came over her when she heard Draco's voice in the distance, even though she was drawn to it. It was like his voice was her own personal siren call.

But she didn't move from where she stood, she simply just stood next to Theodore, kicking her feet aimlessly, waiting to hear it quiet before leaving the ballroom. She wanted to see him and find out what happened while he was away, but that would just mask her true intentions of seeing him.

"You should go see him," Theodore said, giving her a slight nudge. "I think he'd like that."

"Do you think I'm too hard on him?"

He smiled, walking towards the exit. "It's nothing he can't handle."

After Hermione showered and cleaned herself up, she made her way to the north wing of the manor. It was an area she had yet to explore, and her heart skipped a beat as she took her first step across the threshold to the long hallway. It was lined with numerous rooms with elegant portraits of dark landscapes. Floating candles illuminated her way down the dim corridor, creating a strange sense of warmth among the gothic decor.

Draco's voice was drawing her towards his study. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear him gently speaking. Not wanting to bother him if he had company, she turned to leave but heard the door crack behind her.

"Granger?" his voice called.

She didn't turn around, keeping her back towards him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company over. Just came to check in."

"There's no one here, just you and me."

"I heard you speaking, I must have been mistaken," she explained, turning slightly towards him.

"Come in, Granger. I'd like you to meet someone," he said, opening the door wide for her. The study was plain, with shelves and cabinets full of books and files with a console piano that sat against the right wall.

It was completely back, aside from the keys of the piano. It had beautiful flowers that were carved into the wood that were brushed with gold accents. The bench had a plush green cushion that was tucked underneath it.

There was a desk that sat against the far wall that was immaculately clean. The jars of ink and quills were spaced perfectly around a typewriter and other various stationary.

Just above the desk between two large windows sat a portrait of Narcissa Malfoy. Behind her was the familiar sitting room where she sat upon the green armchair beside the fire. When she saw Hermione, she stood up and moved towards the front of the frame.

Draco held his hand out to her, and she took it, desperately missing the feeling of his cold fingers interlocked with hers. She followed behind him and he brought her closer to the portrait.

"Mum, this is Hermione Granger," he said to the painting.

Though she had never formally met Narcissa, she recognized her instantly by her iconic white and black hair that framed her sharp face beautifully. Most people would say that Draco looked like a spitting image of his father, but Hermione could see the small details of Narcissa in his face.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," Hermione said softly, hiding behind Draco's arm, fearing the nasty words that may come from the portrait.

"Hello, Hermione. I've heard so much about you," she replied. The expression on her face seemed blank, and Hermione didn't know if it was due to the nature of the magical painting itself or reflective of the subject's personality. "I'll leave you two alone," she said, looking over Hermione once more before leaving.

"Don't mind her," Draco said, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "Her portrait still has the essence of my mother's pureblood superiority complex. I'll have to see if I can get that trait removed. If she really knew you, I think she'd adore you. She was a voracious reader. Nearly got through every book in the library."

"She's very beautiful, you look just like her," Hermione said softly, in case the figure in the portrait was lingering just out of sight.

Draco snorted, "Now, my mum would have loved you if she heard that."

"Tell me about her, Draco," she said, brushing away a strand of his hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

As if she was weightless, he lifted her up and sat her on his desk. He sat down in his desk chair between her legs. Cold hands touched her knees, and his fingers gently massaged her calves.

"She was a good mother, the best I could have had. Did her best to protect me from my father. Loved playing piano. Would play in the early morning to wake me up."

"Do you know how to play?" she asked him.

"When I was young, she taught me. Haven't touched it since she passed."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You should play for me."

Draco lifted her up and brought her over to the black piano, setting her down on the left half of the bench. Taking the seat next to her, his finger pressed down on one of the keys. There was hesitation before he brought both his hands to the keys.

His fingers moved deliberately across the piano, stringing together that slowly moved into a soft ballad. There were a few instances when he started that he missed a note or played the wrong one, but he recovered quickly. His brow was furrowed in concentration, trying to recall the notes and next position of his hands.

The song he was playing was coming to a close, and Hermione almost protested to make him keep going. It felt peaceful to her, and though she hadn't heard this song before, it felt so familiar.

Draco set his hands back in his lap, his back straight as he sat, looking tense. Hermione rested her head against his shoulder, her arm wrapping around him.

"That was beautiful," Hermione softly told him.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. For a brief moment, she thought she saw his eyes water. "Less than perfect, Granger. That would be unacceptable by anyone else's standards."

"Well, consider yourself lucky I'm not anyone . I'm just Hermione, and I thought it was lovely."

He tilted her chin up with one of his cold, calloused fingers to look into her eyes. "You're not 'just' anything. You're everything to me."

The smell of his spearmint toothpaste was drawing her in, making her mouth salivate. It made her hungry. Hungry for him and for the past she's tried to forget. Spearmint, how her parents would smell when they came home from work. A comforting scent, something that she wanted wrapped around her so she could finally rest well for once.

"We've gone too far, haven't we?" Draco asked, his lips only seconds from hers. She felt his cold breaths seep into her mouth and bush against her skin.

"We have," she replied, looking into his silver eyes that seemed to consume her.

His thumb pulled down at her bottom lip gently. "Tell me that you hate me and that you want me dead."

For the first time, those words didn't slip off her tongue effortlessly. There was hesitation before she spoke, her voice nearly cracking mid sentence. "I hate you, and I want you dead."

She saw him smile before leaning down to close the distance between them.