Draco couldn't believe that negotiations with the nomadic tribe had gone so smoothly. Theo was sure a good negotiator and understood the needs and wants of the counterparts. He had been so sure that they would have to fight for the territory that a whole legion had marched north with them three weeks before. But the Head Chief of the tribe was willing to cooperate with the Kingdom of Aerglo as long as Draco promised his people paid work and food. The Prince accepted immediately, recognizing that no one would be able to work those lands better than the people that knew them like the back of their hands. And now some of the young men of the tribe were marching with him, wanting to train and be part of Aerglo's Army, the one that the other kingdoms feared and whose stories were passed from mouth to mouth like legends.

"Winter is coming early," his uncle Sirius spoke, riding in a black horse next to him. "We better hurry if we want to be home for Winter Solstice's rituals. It will bring good luck to your marriage, nephew. It's the best time to ask the Gods for an Heir."

"We are less than a day away. If we march at a faster pace, we will arrive before midnight," Theo pointed out.

Draco nodded and turned to face his best friend. "Any news from home?"

"No. Not since we were far north."

"Don't be in such hurry, Lord Nott," Sirius laughed, rolling his eyes. "You still have a lot of time before your wife gives birth. You will have an heir soon enough. You young boys are always so eager about having babies."

"The midwife said she's three months now. I guess I still have a long wait," the black haired Lord shrugged.

The midday sun was burning over their heads, but the soldiers didn't slow their step. Draco saw eager faces around him. They were returning victorious without fighting and losing lives. Winter was aimed to be harsh, and no war approached, so many men were happy to return home to spend a few calm months with their families. Everyone seemed to have someone waiting for them at home. And even Draco felt elated to be back home, because he knew warm arms were waiting for him. Not the ones from his lovely bride, but the ones that didn't belong to him. The ones he didn't have any right to long for but did anyways.

"You seem happy to return, nephew. A Lady is waiting for you?" his uncle joked, elbowing him in the ribs.

"I hope so," Draco tried to joke back, imagining a pair of chocolate eyes greeting him upon his return.

"Your bride is not going anywhere," Sirius laughed, and looked around for a few seconds. "Where's Potter? Wasn't he supposed to be marching with us?"

Draco shook his head. "He is marching with the Commanders, in the front lines."

There was a halt in the march and Theo narrowed his eyes, trying to see what was happening at the front lines. "Something is wrong." Their horses stopped, waiting for instructions.

Commotion started rising while Draco heard the metallic sound of swords being dragged out, followed by the grunts of men fighting. In less than a second the lines were broken, soldiers fighting to protect his monarch, screams filled the air as blood stained the alabaster earth of Aerglo's Kingdom. And before he realized what was happening, before he could drag his sword out, before he could turn to see the man approaching him, Draco felt hot pain spread over his left shoulder, screaming. Blood was quick to spill, staining his clothes. His horse began shifting in panic, and without enough strength in his arms to control it, Draco fell to the ground hitting his head.

He turned to see his aggressor, and the olive-skinned man smirked, lifting his dagger to slash him again. "The enemy lives within your walls."

But before he could finish his act, Sirius beheaded him with a sharp and swift move of his sword. "Rebels!" Sirius shouted as Theo leaned to pick an unconscious prince from the ground.

Winter was early. Summer had ended less than a month ago and Hermione saw how the first snowflakes were falling outside. The crescent moon seemed to smile at her, almost asking why she was awake so late. She knew that the sun would be up in a couple of hours and that Lady Astoria would wear her out by giving an infinite list of chores, and yet she couldn't fall asleep.

Lady Astoria had made her life impossible ever since her Master left to acquire new territory in the far north. When they returned to Civitas, after spending the summer in the palace by the sea, Hermione had not been sent back to the Servant's Quarters. She knew something had changed. She had been assigned the adjoined room that had never had an occupant, but her Master didn't give an explanation with the command. And three days later he had departed with the Legion following his track, leaving her to deal alone with his crazy bride, who had made a tantrum of Hermione staying in the Prince's Chambers.

The faint sound of a bell braking the sepulchral silence of the night reached her ears, like a whisper telling her to run, to escape. She hurried towards the main door of the chamber and opened it. The bell rang again and again, the castle walls seemed to tremble over the echo of the bell. Everyone started coming out of their rooms, men keeping their woman behind them, as if the enemy had already penetrated the thick walls. Her blood ran cold.

Was this war? Were they being attacked?

The bell that hung on top of the main tower continued to ring, low and frightening. Every passing second was a torture. Bad news were coming and she just stood by the door, in her nightgown, not being able to move. And then she heard it, the yell of one of the guards at the main gate, so loud in the night that she was sure all castle heard it. "The Prince has been injured! The Crown is falling! The Prince has been injured!"

Panic filled the palace. Steps were going up and down the stairs, many commands being shouted, some asked for a physician and others for a priest. All candles were lighted, illuminating the dark hallways. Everything around her seemed to buzz with hysteria. General Sirius was searching frantically for the King and Queen. Lord Nott was beyond himself, screaming at everyone that crossed his path. Moments later Hermione saw the worst nightmare. She saw how soldiers carried her Master up the stairs, towards his chambers, unconscious and covered in blood. His blood leaving a trace of droplets behind, stanning the neat marble floors.

"Bring me water and gauze!" she shouted to one servant as she ran to the bedroom, moving away the cover so they could lay him down.

He only hissed at the pain when his body touched the mattress, but didn't open his eyes. He was covered in dirt, his handsome face bruised on the side an ugly shade of blue, his shirt damped in blood and the metallic and the nauseating smell of his blood filled the room. He was losing so much blood she was surprised he hadn't died yet. The soldiers were just standing there, not doing anything, just waiting for the physician. She was not letting him die, not now, not when there was no other heir to the crown. He was not going to die because of these useless men.

"Give me your knife and move you idiot!" Hermione yelled at one soldier, she could feel the anger spilling from her body. He just looked at her, shocked, and without pronouncing a word he handed her a silver dagger.

Hermione ripped the fabric of his shirt with the dagger and she noticed the pitiful attempt of bandage they had covered him with, and that only angered her even more.

"You are so stupid you can't even put a proper bandage," she shoved the soldier aside. He probably wasn't the one responsible for the bandage, but she didn't care. She was going to make sure these idiots paid for their foolishness after her Master was alright.

She dipped the gauze in the ice cold water, wringing it, before pressing the deep cut on his shoulder, hoping to stop the blood.

"Please Master, stay here," she muttered under her breath, as she replaced the gauze.

General Sirius entered the bedroom, followed by the physician that quickly approached the dying prince. Moments later Queen Narcissa entered the room, followed by her sisters, Lady Bellatrix and Lady Andromeda. Their pained expressions said it all. Draco had huge dark circles under his eyes and was so pale after losing so much blood, he looked more dead than alive. Sirius narrowed his eyes towards Hermione, as she continued to press the gauze against the open wound, but didn't comment anything.

"Oh, my boy," the Queen sobbed, covering her mouth with her hands. Lady Andromeda placed a hand over her shoulder, to prevent her from running to her son or maybe to catch her if she fainted.

"Ladies, I can't work with so many people here," the physician took an amber bottle out of his bag. "Everyone out! I'll inform you what happens."

Sirius softly pushed the ladies out of the room and shouted to the soldiers to guard the door, servants scurried away before the General's anger unleashed on them. He turned to lock his eyes with Hermione's once more. He looked like he had finally understood something, and just nodded before closing the door. And soon it was just Hermione, the physician and her Master in the room.

"You know anything about medicine, girl?" he questioned harshly, and she could only nod, the huge lump in her throat preventing her from speaking. "Well, help me clean the wound, I'll have to stitch it."

Hermione washed her hands in the tin bowl of water, before opening the amber bottle. The strong chemical smell making her dizzy. She damped a gauze with it and ran it over the cut. She could see his flesh under the open skin and resisted the urge to close her eyes at the sight. He whimpered, almost inaudible, as she cleaned the wound. The physician took a needle from a small leather case and she thanked that her Master was almost unconscious, or else he would never let the sharp object penetrate his skin.

Unwilling to watch as his flesh was sewed together, she damped a cloth in water and place it over his pale forehead, moving his platinum hair out of the way. Faded grunts escaped his lips as the needle moved in and out his pale skin. Hermione's heart ached, she knew there was a high chance he would not wake up tomorrow. She intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand.

"Well, it will leave a scar, but that's the least of our worries," the physician spoke, as he cleaned his hands covered in blood with a handkerchief.

"What do you mean? Are you just leaving him to die? There must be something else you can do," the words left her lips like a plea, and if he noticed, he didn't comment it.

"I'm afraid I can't do more, my Lady. Just try to keep his fever at bay, I'll come tomorrow morning to check on him, if he survives the night. Don't let anyone in, he needs to rest," he told her, before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. And Hermione just stayed there, kneeled against his bed, with his hand clasped between hers.

"Any news?" General Sirius' head poked from the door. Hermione turned to see him and shook her head.

He stepped into the bedroom, the sound of his boots against the floor, echoing in the quiet room. Hermione returned her eyes to her Master. He still had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling so slowly that he appeared to be just a breath away from the other world. She had stayed, sitting by his side and taking care of him for what felt like a century, watching as the sun rise and fall day after another outside of the window.

General Sirius dragged a chair to sit by her side, his elbows on top of his knees and his back hunched in defeat. "Why are you still here?"

Hermione frowned at his question. "It's my job to be here, General."

"No. Substitutes have been offered, so you can rest, but you've denied any help."

"I'm his servant. No one knows how to take care of him better than me," she replied, still staring at the peaceful face of her Master.

"How long have you been working for my nephew?" General Sirius crossed his arms over his chest.

"Almost nine months."

He just nodded, and they fell silent for a few more minutes before he spoke again.

"After such erratic days, it feels peaceful to be here," the older man commented.

"I can only imagine what chaos awaits behind the door, General," her voice was barely a whisper.

"Having the only heir to the crown lying almost dead on a bed is not a nice prospect for any kingdom. They were rebels, you know? The ones that attacked? But they were not free rebels as they refused to talk about their leader when we captured them."

Hermione nodded and turned to face him. "The thirst of power and the jealousy behind are the paths that guide men to destruction."

A small tired smile curled the General's lips as he leaned back in the chair. "You speak as if you had lived a thousand lives, my lady."

Hermione shook her head, looking him in the eyes. "Me? What life could I had lived? I'm a servant. And don't call me a lady, as you know well I'm anything but that, General."

"I've heard what happened when we were in the north. I think the lashing was unnecessary."

Hermione shrugged. "Wasn't I born for this, after all. To be punished and serve my superiors?"

"The naiveté of youth has made you forget, my lady, that one is not what is born to be, but what one has grown to be. There are ladies searching for food on the streets and rats sleeping in silk beds. I've only heard about the strong woman that helps my nephew, and I'm afraid I don't see that woman here," he lifted a brow, placing a hand over her shoulder. "You don't have to be like them, Lady Hermione. The flower that blossoms even in adversity, is the most beautiful."

He squeezed her shoulder before leaving her alone, again, with her master.

Every passing day felt colder, snow falling heavily outside, covering Aerglo with a layer of white. The fireplace was lit, warming the bedroom, and she had made sure to cover her Master with enough quilts. The last thing they needed was him getting the flu.

Hermione was sitting by his bed, holding his hand in hers. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. Her lips softly brushed his knuckles as she read out loud one of her favorite books. The dim light just enough for her to distinguish the letters printed on the old pages. Her mind going far away to the old cities described in the book.

"There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover's whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad," she whispered against his warm hand, as her eyes scanned the words.

Hermione turned her attention to the window, the white flakes falling from the sky. And those warm days by the sea seemed so far away. That kiss on the gardens felt more like a fantasy. And a love as described in books seemed more like a long-forgotten memory.

She wondered, for the first time in years, if her mother had lived, if her mother hadn't been killed accused of adultery, that maybe her life would be different. Lashes wouldn't be healing in her back, she would not have to keep secrets. There wouldn't be a reason to hide. She was forever grateful with Eirene, and all she had done for her. But maybe, just maybe, she would be a free woman. To go and live as she pleased.

"Don't stop, I enjoy when you read for me," a husky voice muttered.

She turned to face the voice and the air was caught in her throat when she met a pair of silver eyes staring at her. A pained, but playful smile was on his lips.

"Master…" she breathed out. Realizing she was still holding his hand, she let go, as a warm blush settled in her cheeks.

He tried to move, but only groaned when the muscles of his arm tensed.

"You were attacked, Master. And the physician had to stitch your arm. He said you are healing well, as the sword didn't cause mayor damage. We only have to wait for the cut to scar. You didn't wake up for almost a week…"

Hermione stood up, and softly brushed his hair out of his forehead. She eyed the door, wondering if she could send one of the guards to inform General Sirius that the Prince had awoken. Maybe she could tell a servant to go look for the physician. And to bring her Master something to eat.

"Don't."

"I'm sorry?"

Her Master grabbed her hand again, and his tired eyes looked straight to her face. "Don't call them. I want to have peace for a while."

"But, Master—"

"You can tell them first thing in the morning. Just finish reading."

He nodded towards the chair next to his bed. Reluctantly, Hermione sat down, picked up the book, and whispered the words in front of her. Her lips softly brushing his knuckles, as he hadn't pulled away.

Draco had been right about wanting to have peace, because as soon as Hermione delivered the news, he had not been left alone one fucking second. His mother and Astoria spent hours upon hours driving him crazy with their shallow chat, and on top of that visitors came in and out his chambers as they pleased. And he was sure that the only truly worried about him were closest friends and family, and the other Lords and Ladies had just come to later gossip.

Hermione adjusted his arm, so it rested comfortably in the sling, and then placed the silver crown over his head. She smiled softly, her golden eyes shining in the afternoon sun.

It had only been three days since he had woken up, and now he was heading to one of the temples, to ask Cybele the goddess of fertility to bless his future marriage as the Winter Solstice took place. He rode his horse, with Astoria by his side, as his people greeted them in the streets in the cold afternoon. Hermione walked a few steps behind him, along with all the people escorting them.

His uncle helped him down the horse as they reached the bottom of the stairs that lead to the temple. Immaculate white, covered with a thick layer of snow, the temple's columns were erected. Majestic the front was decorated with paintings of the moon cycle and the story of two lovers, ancient prayers to the goddess were carved into the marble walls, and the main steps were embellished with copper flowers leading to a very ornate door, where the priestess was already waiting for them.

Astoria placed a hand on Draco's good arm as he led her up the stairs.

"Welcome my Prince, the gods seem to favor you today," the priestess greeted them.

They entered the palace and kneeled before the fountain, from which water emerged and fell on Cybele's statute, which held the fertility flame, always lit, on her right hand.

"Please, rise your prayers to Cybele, as she shall listen. The sun is going down and the ritual must begin."

"Nos orare, Cybele, ut matrimonium benedicat nobis. Ut benedicat tibi fructus nostrae unionem. Nam filii nostri sicut estis servivit nobis, et serviemus tibi. Et ipsi erunt poblnado terrae, ut desiderio tuo." Draco and Astoria whispered, dipping their hands on the crystal-clear water, cupping some and bringing it up for the priestess to examine.

"Draco," she took his hands, looking intensely at the water. "You have a kind heart, and care for your people deeply. Cybele knows that an heir is what you truly desire. She will reward you with a fruitful womb to hold your heir. But you must promise her to raise that heir to be kind to your people, as they will need a kind heart to rule them." She told him, as with a dagger she cut her finger, releasing a drop of her blood into the water that his hands held.

She turned to Astoria, and inspecting the water in her hands, the priestess frowned. "Cybele sees that your heart is stained with jealousy and anger. No heir is to be conceived in a hard womb. Your actions are not true to your feelings. Unless you change your way, unless you love as you proclaim you do, the goddess will not do you any favors. But don't worry, as if you change and clean your soul, she will reward you with many heirs. You have to warm your heart to provide a welcoming womb for an heir."

One drop of the priestess blood fell into Astoria's hands and the sky turned dark, as night had fallen upon the kingdom.

Hermione walked up the main stairs, determined to take the tea tray she was carrying up to the Queen's chambers. She looked up and rolled her eyes. Ginny was standing at the end of the stairs, a basket full of clothes in her arms. Hermione walked past her, not even bothering to look at her. She was not in the mood to deal with drama today, as she was headed for a dreadful afternoon at one of the Queen's tea parties.

But the gods had other plans for her. "Hermione," Ginny called after her, a few feet behind.

Sighing, she stopped and turned to face the redhead. "Yes?" she asked coldly, looking down at the girl in front of her.

"I was wondering if I could have a word with you?" Ginny's brown eyes were staring at the basket, as her hands fidgeted with it nervously.

"I must go with the Queen—"

"I was a fool, Hermione. I should have not snapped at you when you were just worried about me. I don't want to lose a friend over a stupid choice. I am really sorry."

"I never accused you of anything. I didn't judge your actions and I would never betray your trust, you should have known that," Hermione pointed out. Ginny stepped closer, looking guilty.

"I know," she whispered. "But I was angry and felt like an idiot. After all, you were right."

Hermione's façade softened, and a small smile appeared on her lips. "I don't want to keep up with this, as you said it was a fool thing to fight over. And I did my share of shouting, too. But I bet you can agree with me that this is not the best moment to talk. Maybe tomorrow over lunch, I'll be down the servant's quarters," she responded, and Ginny nodded, before leaving Hermione to continue with her duties.

Pushing the door with her back, Hermione entered the Queen's sitting room. The three Greengrass Ladies as well as Lady Bellatrix and Lady Andromeda turned to see her. The Queen's piercing, cruel and cold eyes were fixated on her as she placed the tray on the small coffee table in the middle of the room. Hermione bowed, not a single noise escaping her lips, before arranging the china.

"It seems that a good lashing was all that was needed to fix your attitude," Lady Bellatrix spoke nonchalantly as she moved the small silver spoon, sweetening her tea.

Hermione only nodded as she placed a cup of tea before the Queen.

"Look at me," Queen Narcissa spoke harshly. Hermione looked up, meeting the sky blue eyes of the monarch, not a single trace of emotion in her well kept face. "I hope you now understand your position. Lady Astoria is to be the wife of my son and I is to be treated as such. I know Draco is rather soft with you and doesn't control your attitude, but as you have experienced I'm not afraid to use a firm hand on the misbehaving," she lifted a brow, daring Hermione to remember the lashing she had gone through when her Mater was far from home. "And I'm not afraid to use it again."

Hermione just nodded and bowed before exiting the room, the Ladies following her moves with her mocking eyes.

Draco entered his bedroom, after dinner, and noticed that Hermione was already there waiting for him. She was sitting by the fireplace. Her small frame in a plain blue dress, her hair clipped at the back of her head. Her fingers softly going over the pages of an old book. The flicker of the flames illuminating her doll face. He walked over to her, the soft lavender smell of her skin lingering in the air. Looking up at him, she closed the book, placing it on the table, before standing and walking towards the wardrobe to take out a night gown.

Without pronouncing a word, she took off his jacket, placing it over the fainting couch. "Why weren't you at dinner?" he asked, looking down at her as she folded the pieces of clothing.

"I wasn't hungry, Master," she replied, as she kneeled, helping him out of his shoes.

Her fingers moved over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Draco swallowed hard as she bit into her lower lip, the soft flesh turning red. He grabbed her by the chin and Hermione looked up, meeting his eyes. His thumb ran over her lower lip, liberating it from her teeth, swollen and moist. Brushing her skin, he moved his hand to the back of her head, pulling her hair out of the copper comb holding it. Caramel waves fell down her back, falling over her shoulder. Draco took a step closer, so that her body was pressed against his naked chest. Her eyes never leaving his as one of his hands rested on her hip, squeezing her curves.

His mind was clouded with lust and the smell of her skin. Her warm body irradiating heat and he only longed to feel every inch of her skin. To satisfy the hunger that had been consuming him since she pleased him in the bathtub so many months ago. And before he could think better and back down, he succumbed to his deepest hunger. Leaning over he captured her lips in his.

But it was not a soft kiss. His lips attacked hers, their teeth clashing together as they kissed. And he was surprised to see that Hermione returned the kiss with the same amount of passion. His hands pushing her hips against his. Her hands found their way up his chest, to intertwine at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. His left hand snaked up, brushing her breasts over the fabric of her dress, and a low moan rung in her throat, sending hot blood rushing down his body towards his erection.

Gently, he pushed Hermione over to the bed. Never breaking the kiss, his hands undid the lace strips that kept her dress over her body, while taking small steps over towards the mattress. The dress fell down, pooling at her feet, and Draco broke the kiss to look at her.

The thin cloth of her underdress left nothing to the imagination, as he could see every inch of her skin underneath it. His finger went down, caressing the skin of her thighs as he played with the hem of the short, translucent dress. Slowly he looked up, printing the sight of her in his brain. The toned legs, that led up to her warm core, the soft skin of her stomach, the beautiful milky and firm breasts that offered pink nipples, the freckles covering her shoulders. His eyes stopped on hers, silver meeting gold. Her soul was burning behind them, but not with anger, but with lust. With a swift move he stripped her of the last item of clothing covering her body before pushing her backwards with force into the mattress.

Draco laid on top of her, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss as his hands traveled up and down her body, enjoying the sensation of her soft skin. The lust filling his veins was too much to resist, he wanted to possess her. To fuck her until she screamed his name, begging for more. His hands squeezed her breasts, fingers pinched her left nipple until it pebbled under his touch and another moan left her lips. His hot, erratic breath mixing with hers as he tried to control his body. But she was as desperate as he was, her hands all over his body, nails scratching his skin.

He kissed her jaw, down her neck, biting and licking every inch of her skin. "I waited so long for this," he breathed out as he brushed his nose down her jaw, over the valley of her breasts, down the soft skin of her torso. Her smell was intoxicating, clouding his judgment (if there was any left of it). He groaned when the musky smell of her arousal hit his nostrils.

His lips went up, kissing her nipple as his teeth bit on the soft flesh of her breasts. Her fingers dug into his back, as she arched her body towards him, moaning. He sat back on his legs, admiring the piece of art before him. Her face slightly flushed. He placed a finger over her lips and dragged it down her body, sending a shiver down her spine. Draco smirked as goosebumps appeared over her skin as his finger went lower. Hermione watched him fixedly as he dragged his slender finger over the slit of her hot core, collecting her moist.

"Seems I'm not the only one that has waited for this. Look how wet you are for me."

One of his fingers entered her core. "Master…" the world rolled out of her tongue, a sight mixed with a moan, as she pushed her hips up towards him, her eyes closed.

Draco licked his lips feeling her tight warmth envelope his finger. He folded his finger slightly, so he scratched her wall as he moved his finger in and out, in and out her core, his thumb caressing the bundle of nerves above her entrance. Soft moans left Hermione's swollen red lips and he felt her center pulsing. Soon another finger followed, and he picked up his pace, enjoying the hot lava around his digits. And Draco knew he was driving her crazy as whimpers left her lips, her hands pushing him closer, her legs trying to get a hold of him.

And then it happened. Her core exploded, a low moan leaving her chest as her flesh tightened around his fingers. Her face scrunched in pure bliss. Oh yeah, the first bite to the forbidden fruit only left him wanting more.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly, trying to catch her breath. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you are going to forget your own name," he placed his fingers wet with her essence over her mouth, and like a good girl she ran her tongue down his fingers, cleaning them. "You have been playing games with me for long enough, but tonight I get my revenge."

His right hand found her hip, grabbing her robustly, positioning her before him. He rubbed his length up and down her slit and she whimpered in anticipation.

"Beg," he demanded, and she opened her eyes lifting her head a little to look him in the eye. "I want you begging for me to fuck you senseless."

A dark shadow crossed her face, as her lips curved into a wicked smile, her caramel eyes burning with lust. She pushed herself up on her elbows, before reaching out to run her hand over his arm. "Master," she bit her lip slowly, staring at his eyes, "I want you to fuck me. Hard."

That was everything he needed to lose his control completely, falling into his most primal instinct. He didn't know where the sweet girl had gone, but he liked this version of Hermione better. And with a sharp move he penetrated her, growling at the sensation of her all around him. He hoped to find some resistance, but he found none.

He moved fast, his hips crashing with hers, the sound of their skin coming together echoing in the room. His lips found hers, a wild kiss with their mouth fighting, lips being bitten. His hands went to her back, pushing her closer, her breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust, brushing against him. Her nails scratching his back so hard he was sure blood appeared. Her legs tangled around his hips, her feet pushing him deeper. Sweat rolling down their bodies as the animalistic sounds coming from them, mixed with the sound of their erratic breaths and the sound of their bodies grinding together. Her moans resounded against his chest.

It seemed that close wasn't close enough as their hands pushed, scratched and squeezed every inch of skin they could reach. Their lips leaving marks behind, teeth biting hard enough to draw out blood.

"Master!" she screamed, her legs shaking and her nails digging into his biceps.

And he touched heaven, following her, white stars shining behind his eyelids, her core clenching around him as he tore her apart with the last thrust. Warm liquid leaving him and filling her.

A/N: Weeeelllllll here you have it. I know many of you had been wating for this! thanks for all the support and all the reviews (I read them all). This chapter is dedicated to you. Sorry for not updating last week but I almost had no sleep because of homework, but I hope to be able to post another chapter before sunday (fingers crossed). Thanks for reading and don't forget to tell me what you think. XOXO

PS: the quote Hermione is reading is from an actual book... guess which one ;)