Draco was completely buried in Hermione. His face in her hair, his cock in her cunt, his fingers in her mouth. The only thing she was wearing was the necklace of his blood around her neck and his weight on top of her. Though she was exactly where he wanted her to be, he desired so much more. He was holding back, for the fear of hurting her. But if he could have his way, the bed would be broken and she would be screaming.
It was a religious experience. The warmth that radiated from her body rivaled any temple on this earth. Entering her was like breaching the gates of heaven, something he should have been banned from, but by her grace, was allowed in. Her moans were a choir of angels singing for him. Dipping into her wet cunt was a baptism in holy water. The raking of her fingernails on his back made him want to pray to any god out there to keep her clinging to his skin.
He finally understood the desire of muggles to gather in holy places on their knees and beg for the things they yearned for, because he would be on his knees for eternity if that meant he could keep feeling the touch of Hermione Granger.
Keeping her forever in his grasp was the only thing he could wish for right now. It was a shame that his days were numbered. No matter the outcome of the war, he felt marked for death by either Voldemort or Potter. His only desire was that with either outcome, Hermione would be the one to deal the final blow.
The thought of her being the final thing he saw before he entered the fiery depths of hell would make it all worth it to him.
His fingers slipped out of her mouth and wrapped around her throat, and she breathlessly gasped out as he pressed against her pulse.
"I want to fucking drain you," he whispered as he contuined to thrust into her, making her moan like a whore.
"In your dreams, Malfoy," she spit out, her back arching.
The way she looked as she was being fucked was enough to send him into a frenzy. He wanted to bite her, pull her hair, and watch as her breath left her body as he choked her. It was an animalistic urge he suppressed deep inside of him, not letting it escape.
"I can do whatever I want to you, you're mine," he growled. "My fucking slut."
The noise she made was godly, and he felt her tightening around him. "Draco…" she murmured.
"Fuck," he called out, nearly coming at her muttering his own name to him. Stopping his movements and loosening his hand around her neck, he looked her in the eyes. "If you want me to keep fucking you, you better not say my name like that again."
She smiled at him, narrowing her eyes. "Oh Draco…" she said, even more breathy and whoreish than before.
It was as if she was begging him to finish inside her, even before she did because she wanted him to keep going. And he would, he'd fuck and and fill her until she was adequately pleased, never exiting her body.
After her knees were shaking, and she stopped begging for more, he laid next to her, holding her close. Her fluttering heartbeat was intoxicating, and it took every bit of his strength to not rip it from her chest.
To distract himself from his dark desires, he kissed her face and pressed his fingers into her soft arms. She had been more receptive to him holding onto her after they were intimate. Draco worked hard to stay in her good graces by not killing her friends and letting her have more freedom.
And even with all that freedom, she still had stuck by him. There was ample opportunity for her to leave with Harry that night, and even with her nephew pleading with her to leave with them, she stayed.
"You look pleased with yourself," Hermione mumbled sleepily.
"I can't be a little happy that you're in bed with me right now?" he grinned.
Hermione rested her head into his chest. "I didn't go because there's a lot we have to do for Astoria."
"I know," he said. "Definitely just for Astoria and not the three loads you just begged me to empty into you."
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from him. "Don't make me regret not running away," she laughed softly.
Draco held her until she fell asleep, waiting to see if she had any nightmares before leaving her room. After cleaning up, he nearly laid down in his own bed to rest until he felt the burn on his arm. It wasn't uncommon that he was called to the Dark Lord so late in the night, but it did make him uneasy.
He was always wary that he could be outed at any point, and he did have a backup plan for Astoria and Daphne if that were to happen. Twinkle was instructed to take them to a Portkey that would bring them to a meeting location he had with Harry. From there, they'd be taken in by the Order as refugees.
It wasn't foolproof by any means, but it was better than nothing.
Theodore was waiting for him at the elevators of the Ministry, sporting a black eye.
"Any idea what's going on?" Draco asked him.
Theodore shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine."
"What happened to you?"
"Misunderstanding with a centaur, you know how it goes."
"Don't tell Daph that, she'll go and try to settle it herself," Draco said, trying to ease the tension they both were feeling by being at the Ministry in the dead of night.
They made their way to the Death Chamber to find that it was full of Death Eaters and snatchers scrambling around. Draco hurriedly made his way to Voldemort, who sat coughing in his throne, looking more sickly by the day. It gave him great pleasure to see him so distraught and weak. In front of him were two freshly captured Order members, coughing up blood, beaten, and would soon be executed.
"Malfoy," his hoarse voice called. "There will be a planned attack at Azkaban. Go now, bring Nott. Kill every Order soldier that steps foot on the premises."
"Yes, my Lord," Draco said.
By the time they arrived at Azkaban, it was already a battlefield. Spells were being flung in the tight hallways of the prison, and bodies were piling from both sides of the war. Draco's wand was drawn and expertly countered spells that were hurling in their direction. He hoped in the chaos of it all, Theodore wouldn't pay attention to his lack of killing. His main goal now was to protect his friend and prevent too many Order casualties.
Why the fuck would they go for Azkaban and not tell me?
He and Theodore rushed through the prison, rushing past cells and dementors. Dementors always made Draco uncomfortable and glad the ones that he encountered were on the Dark Lord's side. If he ever met one that wished him ill, he wouldn't be able to counter it.
Draco had never been able to summon a patronus. There wasn't a memory powerful enough for him to conjure one, with his father's presence always looming in the background of even his most joyous times. It had always been an insecurity for him, watching as everyone around him would conjure spectral beasts of protection while his wand just sputtered a weak flash of light. And since then, any happy memory of his mother he had was torn away when she tore him apart. Memories of his times at Hogwarts had been tainted by the war and the blood shed within its walls. Even his fond moments with the Greengrass family were overshadowed by him gutting the man he called dad.
They made their way to the lower cells where they held Order members that were particularly important, checking to see who they may have lost in the raid. Draco hadn't killed a single person, only casting protection spells for him and Theodore. It was mostly clear, but Draco's instincts alerted him to a heartbeat that was beating from down the hall.
The source of it quickly jumped in front of them, hurling an Avada directly at him. The bright red hair of the man before him was an alarm bell in his head. Quickly, he diverted the direction of the spell, sending it careening into a stone wall. Before Theodore could react, Draco sent his wand flying in the opposite direction.
That red fucking hair. A warning sign. If it were any other damn color, killing to cover his tracks wouldn't have been an issue. But a Wesley was for sure off limits, it would be difficult to explain to Harry. It would be even harder to explain to Hermione.
"Draco, what the fuck?" Theodore asked in bewilderment.
"Leave, Weasley!" he yelled. George Weasley stood with his wand drawn, confused. Fear was overtaking him, and his thoughts were discombobulated seeing that he was alone and facing a vampire and a Death Eater. He was not aware that Draco was on his side, so he froze up, unable to process what to do next. "Now!"
With the sound of a crack, he disappeared, leaving he and Theodore alone in the depths of Azkaban. Theodore's wand was summoned back into his hand, and when Draco turned him, it was pointed at his chest.
"What the fuck did you just do?" Theodore yelled, pulling his silver mask off and letting it clatter to the floor. "We were told to kill them all."
Draco, unphased, held up his hands. "I can explain."
"Are you really that fucking obsessed with her that you're letting them go?" his voice said in a disgusted tone.
"Teddy, put your wand down," Draco demanded.
"You don't fucking scare me. I won't let you risk their lives because you have a little girlfriend now. You can't forget about them just because of her," he pleaded. His eyes weren't angry or confused, they were just sad.
"This isn't about Granger!" Draco yelled, gritting his teeth, trying not to let his frustration surface. Draco pulled his mask off too, tossing it aside. They weren't soldiers in a war now, it was much more than that.
Theodore's face went flush, staring at Draco, wide eyed. It was as if he had seen a ghost, or perhaps looking at someone who has been lying to them for years. "You're the mole."
Draco probed his thoughts. He was considering the options he could take to prevent an ill fate for the Greengrass sisters. What he could come up with quickly was going straight to Voldemort, but he couldn't bring himself to. It would mean death for Draco, and Theodore couldn't do that to someone he trusted more than anyone else.
"Why didn't he tell me?" Theodore thought to himself. "I thought we were brothers fighting through this war together. Why didn't he fucking tell me?"
"You caught me. So, can we talk?" Draco said, trying to calm him.
He scoffed in disbelief. "Have you lost the fucking plot? You're going to get them killed, Draco. I thought you were keeping them safe."
"We're losing the war, the Order is offering them safety and you a way out."
"A way out? You really think they're going to hold their end of the deal? After how they let Cornelius down? You were the one that had to deal with the aftermath of it all."
Draco looked at his friend, who stood with his wand pointed at him. Never in their lives had they done that unless it was to practice dueling when they were young. As men, they wouldn't have thought they'd ever have to. When Draco was a school boy, his peers flocked to him, following his every lead, no matter how stupid or childish it was. It was solely due to his name and the power his father held. The only one who had ever voiced their opposition to him was Theodore. Always there to tell him that his actions were foolish or misguided.
And after he had become a vampire, people flocked to him for similar reasons as before. The power he held being Voldemort's right hand drew the attention from many who had craved the same, who wished they were in his spot. But Theodore wasn't by his side to gain favor with the Dark Lord. He was there because he cared for Draco.
"Do you genuinely think that in any world where Voldemort holds power that Daphne and Astoria will ever be safe?" he asked Theodore, begging him to change his mind. "Look at everything he's taken from us. Our childhoods, family, friends, any semblance of normalcy has been stripped away because of him."
"This is all we've ever known," Theodore replied, lowering his wand slightly.
The thoughts of leaving to alert Voldemort of his betrayal were dwindling, but still lingering. And the only reason why was to grant amnesty for Daphne and Astoria. He wasn't thinking about himself at all, but Draco needed him to.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this for you. You were supposed to be out there taming dragons to conserve their beauty, not use them as weapons for destruction. I can see how tired you are. Having to fight, having to go to the ends of the earth and risk your life to get dragons just to even out the odds. Don't you want it to end, Teddy?"
"Fuck!" he said, bringing his hands to his head, finally directing his wand away from him. "What am I to do now?"
Draco heard quiet cries come from Theodore. Confusion, hurt, and fear ran through his mind. Fear for Daphne and the fear of losing a war that he had sacrificed his humanity for. The Dark Mark tattooed onto Theodore's arm, just like his father, was a reminder of everything he had done.
Theodore was much too kind for a world like this. He had been haunted by those he had killed. It took years for him to finally compartmentalize, separating himself from the horrors of what he had to do. But now, he was having to face the reality that everything he had done would be for nothing if Voldemort's regime crumbled.
"I can Obliviate this from your mind, if it makes it easier for you," Draco said, softening his voice, something Astoria had taught him to do to comfort others. "Or you could help me rid this world of him."
"And let every life I've taken go to waste?" his voice cracked. "I'm not you, Draco. They all have meant something to me, they have all chipped away at my soul."
"They will not be wasted. They will be avenged."