Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermione was in the middle of a rather extensive baking session when someone rang her doorbell.

Growling, she looked up from the dough she had been attempting to shape into cute little Christmas trees. The dough hadn’t been cooperating.

“Coming!” she yelled, doing her best to wash her hands with her wand. Nearly every inch of her was covered in flour or raspberry jam.

Keeping her apron on, Hermione dashed to the door. It better not be those bloody carollers again, she thought.

Hermione opened her door and blinked up at the rather tall man standing on her doorstep. For a moment, she hadn’t a clue who he was.

Then the man spoke: “Hello, Granger.”

“Malfoy,” she gasped, taking a step back.

He smirked down at her. “Are you going to invite me in?”

She blinked several times at him. “Is there something the matter? Are you lost?”

His smirk diminished. “No, I’m not lost. I just—Um. I would like to speak to you. Inside.”

“But—why?”

“Merlin, woman! Is your hospitality always this poor or are you being rude because it’s me?”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, not liking being called woman one bit, but she noticed the tension in his eyes. In fact, he absolutely radiated tension. He had a lot of scars on his face.

Something is wrong, she thought, her stomach suddenly in knots.

“Yes, please come in. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Hermione led Malfoy to her cheerful lounge. The wireless was blaring Christmas pop songs. She grinned in embarrassment and waved her wand to shut it off.

“Please have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be right back with the tea.”

Hermione scurried to her kitchen, her heart thumping. Who did Malfoy know of her friends? And why would he be the bearer of the bad news?

When the Earl Grey was ready, she sent the teapot and its matching cups to the lounge. Then she grabbed the milk and sugar.

Back in her lounge, Malfoy was sat in her favourite chair by the fire, looking entirely too big for it. He’d grown into a massive adult.

“Here’s the tea,” she said awkwardly, setting down the milk and sugar next to the teacups. She hesitated. “Um, serve yourself, if you don’t mind.”

He lifted an eyebrow but still leaned forward to pour his own tea. He added a mental amount of sugar into his cup.

Hermione did the same, using more milk than sugar. She took up the chair opposite him. “Did you come here to tell me bad news?”

He sipped his tea, the cup looking miniature in his hand. He regarded her quietly. “No, I haven’t.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank Merlin,” she sighed.

He continued to regard her. His eyes were an astonishing shade of grey. They made him look as if he were made of pure ice on the inside.

“Why are you covered in flour?” he said quietly.

She blushed. “I was in the middle of baking. Well, it was more like a battle of wits, to be honest. The cookie dough was not listening.”

“Cookie dough …?”

“Yeah, dodgers to be exact. With raspberry filling.”

“Were you not using magic?”

“Nope.”

Humour sparked in his gaze. “How stupid.”

She felt her shoulders go spiky. She set down her cup to cross her arms. “Malfoy—What are you doing here? Just tell me.”

He sat back in the chair and steepled his long fingers. His cup was now on the table beside him. “I want to get to know you, Granger.”

Laughing, she said, “Why?”

“Why not?”

She sputtered, trying to find the right words. “Because—because we aren’t friends!”

“We could be friends.”

“It’s been almost ten years since we left school!”

“So?”

“So I don’t fancy the idea of taking a stroll down memory lane!”

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. His expression grew stern. “What must I do to make it right?”

“Make what right?”

“This. Us. The past.”

She sucked in a breath. She hadn’t a clue how to respond.

Still, he regarded her. He was nearly motionless as he did it. “I’m no longer that boy, Granger. I’m an Auror now. An accomplished one. People are saying Potter will be my only competition if I ever go for Deputy Head.”

“This isn’t about Harry, is it? Oh, Merlin, please tell me he’s okay!”

Malfoy growled. “This has nothing to do with Potter. And to the best of my knowledge, he is fine.”

She relaxed once more. “Good, very good.”

Malfoy watched her again, looking rather unhappy. “You and Potter are still close, then?”

“Of course we are!”

“How close?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? He’s my best friend.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow again. “Just your friend? Or is he something more?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“I see,” he said icily.

“Yes,” she said, cold too.

“I believe I’ve made a mistake.”

She sniffed. “Yes, you have.”

He shook his head. “Will you permit me to return? Try again another day?”

“Try what another day?”

“To speak to you,” he said quietly.

“But we are speaking! Right now!”

“No, we are merely judging one another.”

She hesitated for a long moment. “All right,” she said. “You may come back … but I don’t promise to be home! Sometimes my brewing and research necessitates me leaving this cottage.”

“So, it’s true that you brew for a living?”

“Yep.”

He grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. “I like that, Granger. I like it a lot.”

She blushed.

Finally, he stood. He picked up his teacup for one last sip, then discarded it almost haphazardly back onto the table. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

They made it to her front door, but then Malfoy paused. He gazed down at her with eyes full of … something.

Then, quite carefully, he tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear. His fingers felt incredibly warm.

Her gaze flew to his face. She inspected him closely. “Why did you do that?”

“I’ll tell you next time,” he said, voice rumbling. Then he opened the door and left.

All Hermione could do was stand there and watch his retreating form.

Chapter Text

Malfoy returned only two days later. This time, Hermione was brewing in her cellar. It was a rather complicated process. She was on her twenty-ninth stir when he rang her doorbell. She nearly screamed out in frustration.

Grumbling, she slammed down her large spoon and removed her protective gloves. Then she stomped up her stairs, not taking off her brewing goggles. They were rather odd looking with thick leather bands and neon green lenses.

“What?” she cried, throwing open her front door.

Malfoy gave a start. He was holding a bouquet of red roses and white lilies. “Um. Hello.”

“Oh,” she said, shoving up her goggles. “Sorry, I was in the middle of something.”

He looked her up and down. “You were brewing.”

“Yes.”

“I should have warned you I was dropping by. I brought you these.” He handed her the bouquet.

Hermione was speechless. The flowers were so, so beautiful. The silence stretched between them as she admired them.

“You like them?” he asked stiffly.

She looked up at his face and found him rather tense. “Of course! But why?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted to bring you flowers. That’s all. May I come in?”

She gazed behind him, trying to spot anything unusual. “Is this a prank or something?”

“No …?”

“You’re not conspiring with that rotten Rita Skeeter, are you? She’s had it out for me for ages.”

“No, Granger. I’m here on my own accord.”

“But why?!”

Something indecipherable flashed in his cool gaze. “I will tell you … later. Please. I just ask that you trust me right now.”

She frowned. “Am I in danger?”

“No.”

“Is anyone I know or love in danger?”

“No.”

Sighing, she opened her door wider. “Come in, then. I need to get a vase for these!”

He followed her into her kitchen. She had to get on her hands and knees to rummage in her cabinet.

“I know it’s around here somewhere!” she said. “It’s the perfect vase, too. Crystal. With a pretty Christmas design.”

“Why don’t you Summon it? You are a witch, after all.”

Not liking his tone, she straightened up and turned around. He tore his gaze up quickly. He’d been staring at her arse.

Well, then.

Now a little shy, she got to her feet. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, eyes cast down.

“May I Summon it for you?”

“You can try.”

He raised his wand and spoke with authority. “Accio Hermione Granger’s Christmas vase!”

There were several terrible crashes. They all came from her lounge.

“Oh, bother,” she muttered, taking off toward the ruckus. He followed quickly.

The cupboard under her stairs was thrown open, several of her items shattered on the floor. The Christmas vase was floating in the air.

“Shit,” Malfoy said, jumping forward to fix the broken things. She watched him do it, bemused but charmed.

Hermione grabbed the vase and brought it over to a table by one of her built-in bookcases. With utmost care, she positioned the vase, then cast Auguamenti to fill it with a bit of water.

A big smile was on her face as she added the flowers, taking her time. She wanted to make it look perfect. “These are so beautiful, Malfoy. Really just breathtaking. You know how to charm a girl.”

“Good,” he said gruffly, now looming behind her.

She turned and met his rather broad chest. She raised her eyes slowly, trying not to be intimidated.

Of course I’m not intimidated! I helped Harry face down Voldemort! I’m accomplished! And capable! I’m—

His silver eyes gleamed down at her. There was something almost feral in his expression.

She gulped.

Then she remembered her stupid goggles and tore them off her head.

His mouth twisted in humour. “Will you show me your laboratory? I would like to see it.”

Frowning, she said, “Why?”

“Because I’m a brewer as well. Not a professional like you, of course. Just an amateur.”

She couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. She had a lot of recipes down there. Recipes she had created herself. There was a reason why her brewing business was successful.

“Is that a no—?”

“I’ll take you down there, but don’t read any of my journals, got it? I’ll kick you out if you do.”

“I understand,” he said gravely, but his voice was tinged with a bit of sarcasm.

Rolling her eyes, she went to the stairs that led to her cellar.

Her ruined potion was still bubbling on the hearth. She waved her wand to extinguish the fire. Perhaps it could still be salvaged.

Malfoy gazed around, obviously impressed. “You have quite the set up here.”

“Thank you.”

He stopped in front of her wall of Potions ingredients. He whistled. “Some of these items are incredibly difficult to find.”

She lifted her chin. “I’ve harvested them all myself, too. Travelled across the world to do so.”

He looked at her. “Did you enjoy yourself? Learn a great deal?”

“Yes, of course. I think my favourite place was Manaus. It sits on the edge of the Amazon. I got to experience its nightlife, then venture into the rainforest in search of a rather rare forest spider.”

His eyes gleamed again. “What did you like most about the nightlife? Did you go to clubs?”

She laughed. “This was several years ago, so yes, I did. I met a lot of brilliant people, too.”

“Were any of them men?”

“Some.”

“And did you dance with them?”

“Of course.”

“Did you do other things with them?”

She raised her chin. “Does it matter?”

His expression went dark, but he turned away. There was an awkward pause. “What are you doing with all these dirty cauldrons over here?”

“Err. Not much. I should just wash them but I'm terribly busy with brewing.”

“Right,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll wash them for you. May I use this sink?”

She gaped at him. “Why?”

“Because it would make me happy, Granger. To assist you.”

“But why?”

He just looked at her. “Does it matter?”

“Oh, whatever! You can do my washing up if that’s really what you want! I’ll be over here attempting to salvage my potion.”

“Very good, Granger.” He filled the sink with soapy water, then began to scrub.

She sighed and did her best to block him out. It was rather difficult. She could smell faint traces of his cologne. It was woodsy and dark and sexy.

Chapter Text

It was an early Saturday morning, and Hermione was curled up in front of her fire. She wore a fluffy dressing gown and even fluffier socks. A pot of peppermint tea was at her elbow. In her lap was a rather thick fantasy book. It was taking her ages to get through it.

After an hour or so, she realised that reading was a losing battle. She couldn’t focus. Not when she couldn’t stop thinking about Draco Malfoy.

It was silly for her to think about him. She barely even knew him. He could be married! He could be an evil mastermind! He could be … a man who fancied her.

But why did he possibly fancy her? They were virtually strangers! Ever since he’d brought her flowers and cleaned up nearly her entire laboratory, she had been racking her brain as to why Draco Malfoy would suddenly be interested in her. Had they interacted at some point and she just didn’t remember? Had Harry been singing her praises to him?

None of it made any bloody sense!

Hermione stared at her glittering Christmas tree, unseeing. Malfoy was rather attractive. Perhaps too attractive. He was tall and broad but still managed to look elegant in his robes. His hair was a strange shade of blond. Almost white. And he wore it long, past his shoulders, just as his father had.

I’m not sure if I like the hair, she thought. It reminded her too much of Lucius Malfoy, and she didn’t want to think about that awful man. He had been so terribly cruel to his house-elves.

A deep frown came over her face. Wasn’t Draco Malfoy prejudiced? Just like his father? Yes, it had been nearly a decade since the end of the war, but he was still a Malfoy. And she was still Muggle-born.

He had said so many awful things to her in school … He had hated people like her.

She remembered his words to her:

What must I do to make it right?

I’m no longer that boy, Granger.

She shivered. Could she really believe him?

There was a strange sound outside. It made her pause and listen. Then it came again, and again.

What was it? Had a woodpecker suddenly developed a grudge against her house?

Hermione stood up and went to her window. It was snowing, so it was a bit difficult to see, but there was a man out there. And he was chopping her wood. By hand.

Astonished, she grabbed her coat and shoved on her boots, then stormed out into the snow. “What are you doing?!” she cried.

It was Malfoy, and he wasn’t wearing his robes. His white shirt clung to his shoulders as he worked.

“You need firewood, don’t you?” he said, grunting as he brought the axe down, splitting a log in two.

“Yes, but I’m quite capable of doing this myself—and it’s snowing—”

“Oh, I’m sure you are capable, Granger. But you have more important things to do than chop wood. You’ve got your brewing, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—but—”

He paused to look at her. Sweat was trailing down his face. He had his blond hair pulled back in a messy bun. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

“Are you Cursed or something? Do you need to do a hundred nice things for a Muggle-born or else you turn into a frog?!”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Why are you doing all these favours for me?!”

Sighing, he turned around to fully face her. Steam was virtually coming off his heated skin. “Do you have low self-esteem or something?”

“No!”

“Then it should be quite obvious why I’m chopping your bloody wood.”

She threw her arms up. “If you wanted to shag me, then you could have just said so!”

For some reason, this made him glower at her. “I’m attempting to court you, Granger.”

“BUT WHY?”

He continued to glower. “Because I find you stunning.”

“YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ME IN YEARS!”

He shrugged and didn’t say anything. Snowflakes were landing all over his body and melting.

She took a deep breath, then another. “There are countless attractive witches out there, Malfoy. Whatever happened to Astoria Greengrass?”

“What do you know about her?”

“I know that you dated her! I think. Or you were engaged to her. This was all just after the war.”

He bared his teeth a little. “Yes, we were betrothed, but she ended things when I decided to become an Auror.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, he growled, “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I don’t want her. Or anyone else. I want you.”

She sighed. “This doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

“You just said you don’t have low self-esteem. Can’t you understand why I would be interested in you?”

“No!”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re Draco Malfoy! And I’m a Muggle-born woman. I’m a Gryffindor. I date Weasleys, Malfoy. I don’t date Pure-Bloods!”

He barked out a laugh. “The Weasleys are Pure-Bloods, you fool.”

She whipped around and attempted to stomp away, but he grabbed her.

“Wait!” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She struggled in his grasp. “You are a brute! And so condescending. I refused to be called names.”

He buried a hand in her hair and yanked her head back. His audacity made her gasp.

He stared down at her with heated eyes. “Let me court you. Please. Then I will do better at explaining my motivations.”

“You better not hurt me, Malfoy. I’m warning you now. I’m a powerful witch who knows a rather lot of spells. If I discover this is all a ruse, you will say goodbye to your bollocks. Do you hear me?”

He laughed again and gazed down at her fondly. “The more time I spend with you, the more I understand why …”

“Why what?”

Humming a little, he leaned down closer, and for a split second, she thought she would be kissed. Instead, he rubbed his cheek against hers, almost nuzzling her.

She stared up at the grey treeline, confused. It was a rather weird thing for him to do.

“I already like you so much, Granger,” he purred.

“What does ‘courting me’ entail?”

“Will you permit me to take you on a date?”

She laughed shakily. “Of course.”

“That’s very good,” he said, still nuzzling her. She smelled his spicy aftershave, felt the heat of him radiating through his shirt. He was a well-shaped man. And he was holding her so closely …

She shuddered. She was getting just a little bit wet. He made a noise in her ear. It was almost a growl of pleasure.

Laughing again, this time breathless, she eased from his hands. “I need to go inside now.”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes unfocussed.

“I’ll look out for an owl from you. Confirming our date.”

“Yes.”

She escaped back into her house. It was only after she was alone again did she realise how stupid her outfit was: a fluffy dressing gown, an oversized coat, and large chunky boots. Dear Merlin, her hair wasn’t even combed!

What in the world was going through Draco Malfoy’s head?!

Chapter Text

The following weekend, Malfoy picked Hermione up in a flying carriage. It was snowing softly, the stars twinkling in the cloudy velvet sky.

Malfoy stood in a very elegant waistcoat and frock. His hair gleamed silver. “Good evening,” he said stiffly as he held open the carriage door for her.

Hermione blushed deeply. She hadn’t expected such finery. She wore a simple ribbed sweater dress in dark coral. Her hair was blow-dried and softly curled. Her makeup was merely foundation, blush, and a bit of gloss. That was all.

And Malfoy had shown up in a bloody frock coat.

“Um,” she said.

He looked at his outfit, then at hers. He blushed, too.

“I might have overdressed,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Apologies, but I merely wanted to impress you.”

She eyed the carriage, which was pulled by two enormous winged horses. “Oh, I’m impressed.”

He offered his hand to her, and she took it, her eyes now cast down. She stepped into the carriage with his help.

A minute later, they were soaring through the sky. The carriage was quite opulent on the inside. The windows had satin curtains. The seats were upholstered in crushed velvet.

Hermione kept to a corner, still embarrassed, but Malfoy was so large that she felt the heat of him.

“Please don’t tell me we’re off to a ball,” Hermione said.

Malfoy frowned gravely. “No, only dinner. Like I said, I overdressed.”

“Well, no matter, you do look rather handsome in your fine outfit.”

He glanced at her almost nervously. “Good,” he said gruffly.

They were silent then. Hermione heard the flapping of the horses’ great wings.

“Is this how Pure-Bloods court one another?” she asked gently. “By showing up in elegant carriages?”

“Yes.”

“It’s sweet you wanted to do the same for me. A Muggle-born.”

He looked at her again, this time more directly. “You seem to think I’m conscious of your blood status at all times. I am not.”

“Oh.”

He continued to watch her. “I rarely think of that nonsense now. The war beat it out of me.”

“The war?”

“Yes,” he growled. “The Dark Lord’s ideology was disgusting. Immoral. I understand that now.”

She nodded and inched a bit closer to him on the seat. She reached out with a shy hand and tucked a bit of his blond hair behind his ear. “You cleaned up so well for me, Malfoy. I’m rather charmed.”

“What about aroused?”

She gave him a little smirk. “Already attempting to get into my knickers, are you? I expect dinner first before I engage in any dirty talk.”

His hard eyes went a bit lidded. He licked his lips slowly. “I respect that.”

She beamed at him. “Good.”

It only took them a few more minutes to reach their destination. Soaring through the clouds was rather expedient.

Once they landed, Malfoy stepped out of the carriage and helped Hermione out as well. She looked around. They seemed to be on the top of a very tall hill. Below them was a yawning valley where a medieval village had sprung up. Every building of the village was decked out in glittering Christmas lights.

“It’s gorgeous,” Hermione whispered, taking in the view.

“Brilliant,” Malfoy murmured, standing close. “The food’s good, too.”

She laughed. “I am hungry.”

They ventured inside the charming restaurant. From the ceiling hung ropes of garland and spindly chandeliers that held flickering candles. An enormous fireplace roared in the corner, taking up nearly the entire wall.

“Good evening,” said a man behind the counter. “Draco Malfoy, I presume?”

“Yes, thank you. I reserved a table outside. With a view of the village.”

“Of course, sir. Right this way, please.”

They followed the man onto a spacious patio that was heated by several elegant fire pits. Their table was tucked away from the others, with an uninterrupted view of the glittering village.

“Wow,” Hermione said as Malfoy helped her into a seat.

“Do you like it?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, I do. Oh, Malfoy, it is all so beautiful!” She was taking in the icicle lights hanging from the overhead wooden panels.

“Won’t you call me Draco?”

She bit her lip. “Draco.”

He grinned at her, the scars on his face softening. He looked so handsome in the glowing light of the patio.

A waiter came by to pour them glasses of Pinot Noir. Hermione took a careful sip from her elegant goblet.

“Yum,” she sighed. “I can taste the cherries.”

Malfoy took his own sip. His expression became thoughtful. “I taste more earthy notes. The subbois, if you will.”

“What is that?”

“It means under the wood in French.”

“I see,” Hermione said, feeling a bit out of her element.

For an appetiser, they were served a hearty winter root soup. The carrots were rather tasty. Malfoy made a noise of appreciation. The soup spoon looked comically small in his enormous hand.

“It somehow manages to be both sweet and savoury,” he said.

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “I like the carrots.”

I like the carrots?! She sounded like a troll … and no offence to trolls!

As a palette cleanser, they were served poached pears. The treat was divine with their Pinot Noir.

“What’s it like being an Auror?” Hermione asked as she scooped up bites of pear.

Malfoy shrugged awkwardly. “You must already know. Potter is also an Auror. And you two are close.”

“Perhaps you have a different take on the profession. Do you enjoy the work?”

Malfoy still looked awkward. Uncomfortable, even. “Yes, I do. I feel as if it allows me to make a real difference.” He paused and looked down at his plate. “It also helps me feel as if I’m making amends. For what I did during the war. The harm I caused.”

Her stomach fluttered. This man was mature. And he was capable of talking about his emotions. Being vulnerable. She had never expected anything of the sort from Draco Malfoy.

“That does sound rewarding,” she said gently. “It must be awfully dangerous work, though.”

He was looking at her again. Something hot and ironic flashed in his gaze. “Yes.”

Then: “Do you enjoy your work in brewing?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes. Rather so. It allows me to be creative, you see. I’m always coming up with different potions.” She paused, wanting to show him she could also be vulnerable. “But … I do sometimes struggle from time to time. It can be rather lonely brewing day in and day out, all by myself. I’ve also struggled accepting that I’m not going to change the world. Become Minister of Magic. Hold immense power. That sort of thing.”

Now his gaze was soft, so soft. “You’ve already changed the world, Hermione. You helped defeat the Dark Lord.”

Hermione. She shivered.

For their main course, they were served salmon coulibiac with dill soured cream. It was so, so tasty.

“This salmon is perfectly cooked,” Hermione marvelled. “Even though it's encased in puff pastry.”

“I like the grainy mustard,” Malfoy said.

“Me too! And this cream is to die for.”

He smiled widely. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, I am!” she said, trying not to gush too much. “This is such a lovely place, and the food is divine, and—Well. Thank you. For asking me on this date.”

“Please don’t thank me. It’s an honour to share this night with you.”

She laughed. “You sure know how to charm a girl.”

He smiled again. “And I haven’t even had the opportunity to call you beautiful.”

Now she was blushing. It was difficult not to turn a bit coy when such an attractive man was looking at her like that.

He lowered his voice a bit. “Your eyes are a lovely shade of brown. They remind me of warm toffee. And they go perfectly with your beautiful hair. I want to run my fingers through your curls. Caress them. And when we finally make love, I’m going to get a fistful of your hair and use it to guide your head, use it to make you mind me—”

“Malfoy.”

His eyes flashed. “I told you to call me Draco.”

They stared at one another. There was something almost dangerous in his expression. She hadn’t a clue what it was. Or what it meant.

“Apologies,” he croaked softly. “I lost control of myself.”

“I’m not sure if I want to mind you, Malfoy.”

He tore his gaze away. “Don’t you like it when men take command of you?” he asked oh so quietly. “In the bedroom, I mean.”

She gulped. “Yes, I suppose I do. But only when I trust them.”

“And you don’t trust me.”

“No. Not yet.”

He nodded, but he’d gone pale. His scars looked harsh now. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. Truly. I just want you to be mine. And I want to claim you. Sexually.”

She shook her head. “This is our first date.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to be claimed by you, Malfoy. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

“I understand.”

Now he looked miserable. She tried not to blame herself.

“Would you like to go home?”

She hesitated. “Yes, I believe so.”

He straightened up, his expression now utterly blank. He waved over the waiter.

A few minutes later, they were back in the carriage, back flying amidst the clouds. Hermione felt chilled all over. The silence was very tense.

“I’m sorry,” she said into the darkness of the carriage.

“Don’t bloody apologise,” he growled.

“I’m scared, I think. We have a past. And I’ve had my heart broken too many times. I’ve learned to be wary.”

“You are a grown woman, Hermione. You have your boundaries. I understand.”

“I am rather attracted to you.”

“Hush, now. I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride home. When they landed, Malfoy helped out of the carriage, then held her hand all the way to her front door.

Hermione tried to pull away, but Malfoy didn’t let go. He gazed down at her intensely.

“I will do better next time,” he said, then brought her hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against her skin.

She shivered. “You were honest. It’s okay.”

“I will do everything I can to remain in control,” he said gravely.

She frowned. “Once again, I get the feeling you are not telling me the whole story.”

“No. I’m not.”

“And when shall I expect the truth from you? The whole truth?”

“Soon,” he said gruffly. “But not tonight.”

She pulled away, more insistent. “Thank you for dinner.”

He nodded, not saying anything. Then, with his intense eyes, he watched her retreat inside.

There was something beastly radiating from him.

Hermione locked her door.

Chapter Text

On Sunday, Harry came by for dinner. He was in a mood.

Hermione poured them both big glasses of wine (prosecco this time) and they settled on her settee as they waited for the cottage pie to bake.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking in his grumpy face.

“Marcus.”

“Ah.”

“He refuses to make time for me, Hermione. We’ve been dating for over two years now. And he is still putting Quidditch before me!”

“It’s his career, Harry.”

He glowered at her a little. “Oi, are you my best friend or his?”

Smiling, she shrugged. “I like Marcus. You like Marcus. Don’t you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt?”

“He doesn’t care about me!!”

Hermione took up his hand, giving it a tender squeeze. “Does he still want you to go public with your relationship with him?”

“Yes,” Harry growled, taking a long gulp of his wine.

“Have you thought about it at all?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it! I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She nodded. “It’s a big step.”

Now Harry looked haunted. His gaze went distant. “Practically no one knows about my sexuality, Hermione. Only you and Ron and some of the Weasleys. That’s all.”

She gave his hand another squeeze. “Perhaps it’s time to tell more people. Perhaps it’s not. You shouldn’t feel pressured.”

“Of course I feel pressured. Marcus is obviously unhappy with dating me in secret.”

“He loves you and he wants everyone to know.”

Harry nodded in agreement, looking unhappy.

The timer on her wand went off. Their dinner was ready.

“Let’s eat!” she announced.

They went into the kitchen, where Hermione served them pie and Harry poured them more wine.

They ate at her kitchen table, Harry still grumbling, Hermione trying to figure out a way to tell him about Malfoy.

“Um, I have an update,” she said, pushing around a bit of mash on her plate.

“Oh?” he said.

“Um, you work with Draco Malfoy, don’t you?”

Harry’s eyebrows lowered. “Yes.”

“What’s he like?”

“Infuriating. Dependable. Still an arse.”

“Oh. I see.” She was still pushing around her food.

“Hermione, what’s going on?”

“Well … Um. The thing is … Um. We sort of went on a date.”

There was a long silence. She sneaked a glance at Harry. He looked concerned. Too concerned.

“I had no idea you two were even speaking.”

“Well, we weren’t, but a few weeks ago, Malfoy just showed up at my cottage. He said he wanted to get to know me, then he said he wanted to court me. He seems to have other motivations, I don’t know. There is obviously something he isn’t telling me.”

Now Harry was losing colour in his face. His hand shook as he brought his glass to his lips.

“Oh my god, what’s the matter?! You have to tell me!”

Harry didn’t respond for a long, long moment. He looked ill. “I promised I wouldn’t say.”

“Promised who?!”

“Malfoy, of course.”

Hermione was about to go mad from nerves. “You must tell me what you know. You must, you must!”

Sighing, Harry set down his wine glass. He pushed his glasses up to rub hard at his face. Then he straightened in his chair.

“A few years ago, virtually all the senior Aurors were working on the same case. We were attempting to break up a pack of criminal werewolves.”

“Criminal werewolves?”

“Yeah … They were vicious. And murderous. They were selling illegal potions, even fake Wolfsbane. It was awful.”

“What happened to Malfoy?”

Harry took a deep breath. “This one night, he and I tracked down the leader to this awful cabin in Capel Celyn. We thought we had him cornered. We thought we had it all under control. But then the bastard broke through my Binding Spell and attacked Malfoy.”

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. “Merlin.”

“Yes.”

“And then what happened?”

Harry stared at her. “Malfoy was bit. Nearly mauled. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“What? So he’s like Bill?” she said with a frown. “He’s got werewolf tendencies?”

Harry sighed. “No.”

Her eyes went wide. “Are you telling me he’s a werewolf?!”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m the only one who knows, Hermione! Just me and Robards! And the Healers who patched Malfoy up, of course.”

She covered her face, unable to handle the information. Her thoughts were whirling.

Malfoy was a werewolf and he was courting her! Without telling her!

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered.

Harry left his seat to wrap his arm around her. “I’m sorry, Hermione. It’s such a shit situation.”

Suddenly, she was crying, and she didn’t really know why. It wasn’t as if she were in love with Malfoy … but it still hurt. It hurt so much.

The secret felt like a betrayal. The omission.

Harry held her close and let her cry on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “Just know that Malfoy is still an arse. You can do so much better, Hermione.”

“Yeah,” she said, sniffling.

They continued to drink that night. Far too many wine bottles ended up empty. Hermione nearly fell asleep right at her kitchen table. Harry carried her to bed, where he tucked her in.

Hermione was crying again, her head swimming because of the alcohol. “He was so charming, Harry,” she cried. “So, so charming. He did my washing up! He—he bought me flowers. And you should have seen the restaurant he took me to!”

Harry sat down drunkenly. He held her hand. “Fuck him. Seriously—fuck him. He’s not a nice bloke, I’m telling you.”

“He was nice to me,” she sniffled. “There was a carriage, Harry.”

“Yeah, yeah. He did all those nice things for you while knowing he was putting you in danger. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Her sniffling turned into more cries. She shuddered under her duvet, so sad.

“Oh, Hermione,” he said, crawling into bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand it.”

“You’ve got Marcus and Ron’s got whatever-her-name-is, and Charlie chose his bloody dragons over me! Who’s going to put me first, Harry? Who?”

“You can’t expect it from Malfoy. You just can’t. Even if he wanted to. He’s a creature now.”

She gave herself over to the tears. Harry held her through the storm. She cried for so long that they both began to doze.

“My head is swimming,” Harry murmured. “Can I sleep over for a bit? Just until it’s safe for me to Disapparate?”

“Of course,” she said, already drifting off again.

A few minutes later, they were both snoring. Harry still had his arms wrapped around her. It felt nice to have him close, even if he were just her friend.

Chapter Text

In the coming days, Hermione did her best to crack on. She didn’t want to let herself continue to cry about Malfoy. They had barely been involved. It was okay if things ended.

But did she even want things to end?

She didn’t know.

Hermione spent her free time journalling. Not about potions, no. She had to put to paper what she felt about the situation. She was sure writing it all down would help her figure out exactly how she felt about things.

On Wednesday, Malfoy came around to her cottage. He knocked several times, but she didn’t answer. She heard him prowl outside for nearly an hour, before he cursed and Disapparated.

It was terrible. It was awful. But she didn’t know what to do.

He’s a werewolf, she thought. And he didn’t respect you enough to tell you. He was too much of a coward to tell you. If he couldn’t be honest about something so important, then what else wouldn’t he tell you about?

Malfoy returned the next night. He knocked and knocked and knocked. It was rather excessive. And obsessive.

Hermione tiptoed to her front door. She was aching to open it.

“I know you’re there,” Malfoy growled through the barrier. “I can smell you.”

Her breath caught.

Something heavy thudded against the door as if Malfoy leaned his shoulder on it.

“Potter told you, didn’t he?” Malfoy murmured.

“Yes,” she responded after a long moment.

He made a low growl. “Open this door and let me explain.”

“I’m not sure if I want to.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Hermione.”

“You already have.”

More growling.

“You should have just told me.”

“How could I have? I would have frightened you off.”

“You had several opportunities to tell me. Break it to me gently. But you never did.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She sighed heavily and didn’t say anything.

“So, that’s it, then? I don’t get any more chances?”

“I don’t know.”

“What must I do to earn your trust back?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bought you something.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“Please, Hermione,” Malfoy said quietly.

She took a deep breath, then another one. “I don’t know how to feel about you. About any of it.”

“It sounds as if you don’t fancy me all that much.”

“That’s not it.”

Malfoy paused. “Open this door, Hermione. Let me make it up to you. Let me show you why it would be beneficial for you to have me in your life.”

“I have no more cauldrons for you to clean.”

There was another thud against her door. His breath was loud on the other side. Almost as if he were panting.

“Open this door and let me eat your cunt. Come on. I want to taste you. Finally.”

She stumbled back. His words did have an effect on her. She was pulsing between her legs.

“No, Malfoy. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.”

He growled. “Come on.”

“No.”

“Please.”

She bit her lip. Oh, did he sound sexy. So sexy. She never thought Draco Malfoy would ever say please to her.

She mustered her resolve. “I’m going to bed now, Malfoy. And you are not invited.”

“I’m going to leave my present for you on your front step. Do retrieve it when I’m gone.”

“I told you I don’t want anything from you.”

“I think you’re going to want this. It’s rather expensive.”

She heard him stride away.

An hour later, she sneaked back down from her bed. She cast a Detection Spell to make sure he wasn’t there before opening her door.

The icy air licked at her bare ankles. She spotted a little box with a white bow on it and snatched it up.

Shivering, she took the box back up to her bed. Underneath the covers, she gingerly opened the box. Inside lay a charming little bracelet with golden holly leaves. Each leaf was in laid with a tiny diamond.

“My God,” she whispered, holding up the bracelet. Malfoy hadn’t been exaggerating. This was very, very expensive.

What the hell was she going to do? She couldn’t keep the bracelet, could she?

Maybe she could.

Chapter Text

Malfoy began to write to Hermione. Over and over. She couldn’t bring herself to read any of it.

He sent her so many letters that she had to buy an extra big bag of owl treats. The poor things were working overtime.

She kept remembering what Malfoy had sounded like through the door. The dark possession in his voice. His growls. His confidence.

I know you’re there. I can smell you.

Remembering made her shudder. It also made her wet.

Several times, she brought herself to orgasm just thinking about him. Sometimes she liked to imagine him storming through her door and capturing her. It was a lovely fantasy, but the reality of it was terrifying. She didn’t know if she wanted a man to have so much control over her. After all, she was a very independent person. She always had been. Just ask her exes.

She also returned to his present, again and again. The bracelet was just so gorgeous. Stunning. The little diamonds sparkled in the firelight.

It was obvious Malfoy fancied her a great deal if he were buying her such expensive presents … but maybe he did this for all the women he dated. He was a Pure-Blood after all. A Pure-Blood with presumably loads of money, unlike Ron or Charlie.

A few more days slipped by, and then Harry returned to share another dinner with her. He knew she was rather sad.

To make herself feel better, she got herself a little dolled up for the dinner. She took out her fancy Christmas candles, set the table with a lacy cloth, and used the Christmas dinnerware her mum had given her.

It was all just for a friend, but it didn’t matter. It was more for Hermione, and Harry knew that.

And anyway, Harry wasn’t just a friend. He was her best friend. She loved him above everyone else.

When Hermione opened the door for Harry, she found Harry with a deep frown on his face.

“Oh, you brought wine!” she said excitedly.

“There are tracks in your garden,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Footprints in the snow. A man’s boots. Someone’s been spying on you.”

“Are they fresh?”

“Yes, I think so. And there’s older tracks, too. He’s paid you several visits.”

Hermione sighed. “Please come in. Get out of the cold.”

Nodding, Harry stepped inside. It was snowing a bit, and his black, unruly hair was dusted in it. She helped him take off his coat, then helped him dust the snow off him.

“You smell lovely,” Hermione said, leaning in close. “Is it new cologne?”

“Yep. Armani. I wanted to treat myself.”

“Ooo, Armani.”

Laughing, Harry took her into his arms. They stood like that for a long moment, just holding each other.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, trying not to cry.

“It’s been terrible, hasn’t it?”

She nodded tearfully. “He bought me a diamond bracelet, Harry. He’s apologised. He’s come around a few times and begged me to open the door.”

“That sounds so difficult, I’m sorry.” He eased back to wipe the tears from her face. Then, smiling, he gave her nose a little kiss. “Cheer up, though. We have wine in our future. And dinner! What did you make for us?”

“Just a roast.”

“Your roasts are lovely, Hermione. The best. I always adore when you cook for me.”

She beamed.

Harry remained close as they walked to the kitchen. He gave a start when he saw the kitchen table.

“Whoa,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “It’s not too romantic, is it? Maybe the candles are too much.”

“Romantic?! It’s beautiful! And so festive. You made us an early Christmas dinner!”

She beamed again.

A few minutes later, they were tucking into their roast, big glasses of wine at their elbows. Harry sat close to her on the same side of the table, wanting to give her comfort as they ate.

“My mind’s in shambles,” she confessed. “I just don’t know what to do.”

He shook his head. “The choice should be easy. He’s a werewolf. He’s too dangerous to date. You know this, Hermione. Remember what Remus nearly did to us when we were kids.”

Hermione frowned. “But Remus was a good man. And he was able to marry Tonks. Have a child with her. They seemed to carry on rather well.”

“Remus had more self control in his pinkie than Malfoy does in his entire body. I would know; I have to work with the man. He’s entirely too hot headed. And he thinks he should run our department one day. It’s ridiculous.”

“Some of the things he says to me … it’s a bit frightening …”

Harry’s expression went hard. “What exactly does he say to you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve made it out to be worse than it is. I just mean … He says he wants to claim me and such. It’s frightening.”

“Yes, well, you should expect that. Even I know that werewolves claim people as mates.”

“He’s never used that word before.”

“Yeah, probably because he’s trying to manipulate you into dating him first. Doesn’t want to give you all the dirty details up front.”

She covered her face. “I don’t think this is helping.”

Harry let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sure Malfoy has true feelings for you. I’m sure he does want to be a good boyfriend to you. A good mate to you. But, ultimately, he’s a werewolf who used to be a Death Eater. He’s been entirely too close to the so-called ‘Dark Side.’ I just don’t trust that he could treat you right. He has too many darkish tendencies.”

“What do you mean ‘darkish tendencies’? Have you seen them for yourself?”

Harry shrugged. “I saw him nearly kill Katie Bell. I saw him nearly kill Dumbledore. He has that Dark Mark on his arm, doesn’t he?”

“I haven’t seen it for myself. And everything you’re describing happened when he was a teenager. Isn’t there a good chance that he’s changed? Got better?”

“Yeah, sure, but he’s a bloody werewolf now. Any improvements have been done away with.”

She sighed and tried to eat a few roasted carrots. They were a bit overcooked. “Do you think there's a chance you are biased because you both want to become Head Auror?”

There was a long pause. Then, rather reluctantly, Harry muttered, “Maybe.”

She snorted and sipped some of her wine. Harry laughed, then turned serious again. He grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“My bias is less about the job and more about me being overly protective of you,” he said sincerely. “I love you, Hermione. And I’ll Confringo any man who hurts you.”

“You never blasted away Charlie. Or Ron. Are you sure this isn’t because Malfoy—”

There was a sudden loud crash. It was the sound of wood being smashed. Hermione gasped and fell out of her chair. Harry lurched to his feet, wand in hand.

Hermione didn’t see it, but somehow she knew someone had barrelled through her front door.

Hermione was just standing up when Malfoy appeared in her kitchen doorway. There were bits of wood in his tangled hair. He looked soaked, a good layer of snow quickly melting on him.

And his eyes were bright, too bright. They popped with utter rage.

Malfoy was glaring at Harry. He bared his teeth. “You.”

Wand pointed at him, Harry bellowed, “WHAT ARE YOU—”

Malfoy launched himself at the other man.

Chapter Text

Malfoy and Harry went crashing into the kitchen table, knocking everything over. Several pieces of dishware shattered on the floor.

“NO!” Hermione yelled, stumbling forward. She had her wand in hand but she didn’t want to hurt either of them.

Malfoy was punching Harry. He was yelling, “She’s mine, damn you! She’s mine, she’s mine!”

Then Hermione spotted a bit of blood. Harry’s blood, most likely.

Hermione launched herself at Malfoy, wrapping herself around his back. “Let him go!” she cried.

Malfoy went still with her clinging to him. It was enough for Harry to aim his wand and gasp, “Levicorpus!”

Malfoy flew up into the air, Harry’s magic holding onto him by one ankle.

Snarling, he thrashed and thrashed, his blond hair falling into his face. “Get away from her, damn you! SHE’S MINE!”

Hermione had her wand pointed at Malfoy. “What is going on?!” she cried.

“I heard you two! I saw you! Potter wants you, he wants you, but I won’t let it happen!”

“You were spying on me?”

Malfoy snapped his mouth shut. He just stared at her miserably, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

“Harry, let him down. He’s going to pass out in that position.”

“Fuck no!” Harry growled, his nose bleeding. “This arsehole is just going to attack me again if I release him!”

“Malfoy, promise Harry you won’t attack him again.”

Malfoy snarled and bared his teeth. Harry gave Hermione a very unconvinced look.

“See?” Harry said. “The man’s an utter animal! He’s incapable of controlling himself!”

“Oh, I can control myself, Potter,” Malfoy snarled. “Once you get away from my woman.”

Hermione sputtered. “I’m not your—We haven’t discussed—!”

“She’s my best friend!”

“YOU WANT TO FUCK HER!” Malfoy bellowed.

Hermione and Harry shared a rather astonished look. Then Harry began to laugh. A lot. He even curled forward and held his stomach, he was laughing so much.

“What’s so funny?” Malfoy growled, his face now purple.

“Please, Harry, just tell him,” Hermione whispered.

“Why should I?” Harry said, sobering up. “Malfoy’s the last person I’d trust with a secret.”

Hermione rested her hands on her hips. “Because Malfoy knows that if he betrays your trust, it will be the end of anything between us.” She pinned Malfoy with a glare. “Do you understand me? If you tell anyone Harry’s secret, then I shall never speak to you again. I don’t care how many doors of mine you break down.”

Malfoy was still making beastly noises. While Hermione was glaring at him, he was glaring at Harry. “I don’t care what secrets he has. He wants you, Hermione. He said he loves you. He even kissed you on the nose. And now he’s trying to turn you against me! BECAUSE HE WANTS TO FUCK YOU!”

“I’M BENT, YOU IMBECILE!” Harry bellowed.

“THAT DOESN’T BLOODY MATTER!”

Harry looked outraged—and bewildered. “Do you even know what it means? I don’t like fanny.”

“Just because you like taking it up the arse doesn’t mean you can’t fall for your best friend! We’re talking about Hermione here! She’s brilliant! And gorgeous! Any man could fall for her, no matter their bloody preferences!”

“Oh, bother,” Harry groaned, rubbing hard at his face. “You’re insane.” Then he dropped his hands and gave her a rather nervous look. “I mean, not because he thinks you’re brilliant and gorgeous, only that—”

She ignored him. “Malfoy … How were you able to hear all that? Did you cast a spell on my house?”

Malfoy gasped for air. He struggled speaking. “No … it’s just my werewolf hearing …”

“Harry, please just end your spell on him,” Hermione said.

Grumbling, Harry waved his wand, and Malfoy crashed to the floor.

Hermione went to him. “Are you all right?” she said, kneeling beside him.

Malfoy massaged his neck. His hair was a disaster. “Yes, I think so.”

“What is the matter with you? Why did you break down my door? Why did you attack my best friend?”

“You wouldn’t see me! I was panicking! Losing my marbles! I’m sorry, I am, but you let him kiss you!”

“It wasn’t an actual kiss! And you shouldn’t have been spying on me! It’s not nice! It’s alarming.”

“I can’t help it,” Malfoy said, now covering his face.

“Why?!” she cried.

“Because you are my mate,” he said quietly.

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered behind her.

Malfoy dropped his hands and gazed past her at Harry, giving him a deadly look.

“Frankly, I think we should call Regulation and Control on him,” Harry said.

Now it was her turn to give Harry a dark look. “You are not helping matters.”

“You can’t seriously be considering listening to him!” Harry said. “Of course he thinks you are his mate! He’s gone insane.”

“The wolf chose her, Potter,” Malfoy growled.

Hermione shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Really?”

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered.

“Yes, that’s why I began coming around here,” Malfoy said. “I know it was all random. I found it random as well.”

She hugged herself tighter. “Random?”

Malfoy panicked a little. “Not that it’s random that a man might fancy you or want to court you! It was the intensity of my feelings for you that I found sudden.”

“Hermione, please let me kick this arsehole out of your house,” Harry said.

She stared at Malfoy, taking in his miserable expression. He was paler than usual and it made his scars look raw.

Merlin, I want to comfort his man, she thought, surprising herself.

“No, I think you should go home now,” she told Harry. “I do believe Malfoy and I need to discuss things in private.”

Harry was aghast. “You mustn’t be alone with him! He can’t be trusted!”

She fiddled with her wand. “I think I can hold my own. Please don’t worry about me.”

Harry glared at Malfoy, jabbing a finger at him. “If you hurt her in any way—!”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Malfoy growled. “I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

Looking very unhappy, Harry stormed out. Hermione followed him nervously.

“Harry, please understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” he said, stepping over the mess of wood in her foyer. “We all do stupid things for handsome men.”

She reached out. “He didn’t hurt you too much, did he?”

“Of course not, Hermione. But you better be on guard around him. It will be much easier for him to hurt you.”

Sighing, she gave him a hug. “I’ll owl you an update, okay?”

“You better.”

After Harry left, she returned to Malfoy in the kitchen. “First things first, you are going to fix my door and clean up this mess you caused. Then we shall discuss matters.”

“Yes, Hermione,” Malfoy answered, sounding as if he were a kicked pup.

Chapter Text

After Malfoy fixed her door and cleaned up her kitchen, Hermione had him sit in the chair by the fire. She wrapped him in a big blanket and brewed him a strong pot of tea.

“Are you hungry?” she murmured.

“For you? Always.”

She huffed to cover a smile. “I mean food. Dinner. I did make a roast.”

“Are you offering me Potter’s scraps?”

She rested her hands on her hips. “Do you mean to be infuriating?”

He watched her. “You shouldn’t have cooked for him.”

“I can do whatever I want for my friend. For anyone.”

“You should have cooked for me, not him.”

“He’s my best friend. I love him.”

Malfoy bared his teeth at her. He was breathing heavily.

She glared at him for a long moment. He wasn’t the only one feeling angry. Hurt. She wanted to trust him, she did, she did, but he kept on acting like an utter prick.

Then she drew closer. He was sitting down, so she managed to loom over him.

He grimaced. “I can still smell him on you.”

Grasping the back of his chair, she murmured, “Do you want me to do something to you that I’ve never done to Harry?”

“What? Punch me?”

“Oh, no …” She drew even closer. She saw the expectation in his eyes. “Do you?”

He licked his lips. “Yes.”

Hermione kissed him. His lips were surprisingly soft. They were also wet from his tongue.

He made a dark, greedy noise, and his arms came around her, yanking her against him. She was forced to put a knee on the chair so she didn’t fall over.

“Be a good girl and straddle me,” he murmured.

She shuddered. “I don’t want to have sex with you. Not tonight.”

“I know. Still do it.”

Gulping, she straddled him on the chair. He was so very warm beneath her. His thighs felt enormous. There was very little room for her own legs.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he murmured. “Sit down on me.”

“You are erect; I already know it.”

“Yes. So what?”

“I said I don’t want to have sex.”

“I promise we won’t; I just want to feel the heat of you.”

Biting her lip, she lowered down. He was indeed erect. He felt very big.

Malfoy smoothed his hands up her back. His eyes had gone so lidded they looked closed. “You feel so good, darling.”

“Don’t you dare thrust.”

“No, no, of course not …” His voice was purring.

She was absolutely throbbing. Her knickers were getting wet. Still, she pushed aside her mounting arousal to inspect his face. He had several new cuts. Probably due to breaking down her bloody door.

She Summoned a flannel from her cupboard. Then, after casting a warm Auguamenti, she began to clean away the grit and blood from his skin.

He stared at her as she did it.

“I believe your stunt hurt you more than it did Harry.”

“I told you I was out of my mind.”

“You need to be more concerned with your own safety.”

“Careful now. You are sounding as if you give a shit about me.”

“Of course I give a shit about you.”

He leaned in to nuzzle her throat. “Unbutton your dress. I want to see your tits.”

“No.”

He growled in the back of his throat. “When you permit me, I’m going to fucking devour your cunt.”

“Hush, you.”

Beneath her, she thought she felt him twitch. It made her squeeze her thighs. He was panting again.

“I hope I’m proving to you that I can control myself. No matter what Potter says.”

“And if you couldn’t control yourself?”

“I’d already have you flat on your back with my knot buried deep in your tight fanny.”

“Your … knot?” Her voice shook.

Malfoy shut his eyes. He ground his teeth. He looked rather annoyed with himself.

“Malfoy … What do you mean your knot?”

“My penis forms a knot,” he said quietly, eyes still closed.

“Like a dog’s?!”

“Yes,” he growled.

Hermione was gaping. “Does it hurt?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t knotted anyone yet.”

“What? Why?” She’d expected him to have a long list of ex-girlfriends—a long trail of broken hearts.

He sighed and opened his eyes. He looked miserable again. “I’ve been too disgusted with myself. It’s not as if I was born like this. Only a few years ago, I was still a human man. Now I’m a beast. And the base of my cock swells up even when I’m just trying to have a quick wank. Needless to say, it hasn’t been easy.”

“You’ve been disgusted with yourself?”

“Yes.”

She touched his face gingerly. “All these scars … When did you get them?”

“They’ve accumulated. I get new ones each moon.”

“You mean you’re hurting yourself during your transformations?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you know why?”

He avoided her eyes. “The wolf’s been sexually frustrated, too. It wants me to unite with my mate just as much as I do. And I can’t always get my hands on legitimate Wolfsbane.”

An idea sparked in her mind. “I could brew you Wolfsbane! So you always have some on hand!”

His expression turned guarded. “No, it’s too time consuming. The ingredients are far too rare, too. I would never ask it of you.”

“Hush, you,” she said again, giving him a brief kiss.

They cuddled for a few minutes, Malfoy carding his hand through her hair. He was purring again.

“Do you want some of that roast now?”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Beaming, she kissed him properly. He moaned and shuddered, but didn’t rub his erection against her.

Yes, he could control himself. He just needed to learn how to do it more often. Especially around Harry.

Christmas is fast approaching. She was thinking about all the time she spent around the Weasleys over the holidays. She would be around Ron a lot.

And Charlie would be back in town.

Malfoy was not going to like that.

Chapter Text

During her free time, Hermione devoted herself to researching the Wolfsbane potion. She knew it was a big undertaking to brew. She knew only expert Potioneers were able to get it right. And she knew she would need to travel all the way to East Asia to harvest the proper Occamy eggs.

Was all of it something she really wanted to do for Malfoy? Would he even appreciate it?

She hesitated only until she remembered his scars. They represented pain—a lot of it. And she didn’t want Malfoy to be in pain. Not at all.

She wrote to Luna and scheduled a Floocall with her. Luna was an expert in so many different magical creatures. She was confident her friend could help her.

“You are glowing, Hermione,” Luna said during their call, her pale face bobbing amidst the fire.

“I am?”

“Yes—Are you in love?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Um. No? I don’t think so?”

Luna inspected her some more. “You are either in love—or coming down with Dragon Pox.”

“Dragon Pox?! You know that’s fatal, right?”

“Not all the time. I believe one percent make it.”

Hermione groaned. “I don’t think I’m infected with the Pox, Luna. I’ve just got Draco Malfoy in my life now.”

“Oh,” Luna breathed. “He’s a lovely man.”

“Wait—You two know each other? I mean, outside our time at school.”

Luna nodded. “We became rather close when I was locked up in his dungeons. He spent time with me. Tried to provide me with a bit of comfort. It was tremendously nice of him. He writes to me now periodically. It’s all very noble of him.”

“Merlin, Luna. I completely forgot you two crossed paths during the war. I’m terribly sorry.”

The other woman shrugged. “It’s all right, Hermione. You were busy during that time. I didn’t expect you to remember.”

Hermione hesitated. “Well … I think Malfoy and I are dating now.”

“How lovely. That must be why you are glowing.”

“So, no threat of Dragon Pox then?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out. To be on the safe side.”

Shaking her head, Hermione pressed on. “Look, I want to take on a new brewing challenge. A big one. I want to brew Wolfsbane.”

“Brilliant. And you need help acquiring the ingredients?”

“Yes, exactly. Particularly the Occamy eggs. I want to harvest them myself, to be on the safe side. My research tells me most Wolfsbane isn’t as potent as it should be because brewers can’t get their hands on good quality eggs. It’s very important that I remedy that.”

Luna nodded seriously. “We’ll have to visit an Occamy colony. The biggest one I know of is in the Xishuangbanna Rainforest.”

“That’s in China, right?”

“Yes.”

“What are the Occamy like? Are they rather territorial?”

“No, actually! They like snuggles. And Christmas biscuits. So make sure you bring those.”

“Christmas … biscuits …?”

“Yep!”

Sometimes what Luna said was absolutely loony, but she hadn’t steered Hermione wrong yet in the harvesting of ingredients. (Dragon Pox and other ailments were a different matter.)

“How will we be able to reach Xishuangbanna?”

“Several Portkeys. Maybe a few carpet rides. Don’t worry, I will set it all up. Make sure to dress lightly. It’s a rather warm and wet place.”

Hermione beamed. “Thank you so much, Luna!”

Before she left on her trip, Hermione contemplated not telling Malfoy. She didn’t always tell Harry or the Weasleys when she went off on quick trips … Surely she should treat him similarly? It wasn’t as if they were married.

But, no. She knew it would most likely be a disaster if Malfoy showed up at her home and found her gone for an extended period. Especially overnight. He might really go after Harry, then.

Sighing, Hermione took out some parchment and quill. She kept her note to him brief: I’m travelling to Xishuangbanna, China, for only a few days. Luna will be accompanying me. I will owl you when I’ve returned.

She almost ended the note with Love, Hermione, but no, that wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t love Malfoy. Not yet, at least.

Not yet?!

Oh, bother.

It was a rather strenuous journey to reach Xishuangbanna. Hermione fell asleep on the last carpet ride they had to take.

In their hotel room, they kept the windows wide open to let in the tropical air. Luna sat on the bed as she knitted tiny little Santa hats.

“What are those for?” Hermione asked, lounging, barely awake.

“For the Occamy, of course.”

“They enjoy Western Muggle holidays … ?”

“They enjoy all types of festive activities. They also like hats. They like them a lot.”

“Sounds brilliant,” Hermione said, yawning and rolling over to fall asleep.

In the morning, Hermione and Luna had a breakfast of congee with minced ginger and shredded bok choy. Then they jumped onto rented brooms and took off for the rainforest.

The forest was very dense. They had to navigate their brooms through lush vegetation for several hours before they found the Occamy colony.

As they searched, Hermione had to cast several Anti-Bug Charms on herself. The gnats were especially bothersome. Ugh.

“There!” Luna exclaimed, big binocular-like glasses on her eyes. “I see them!”

Luna and Hermione jumped from their brooms beneath the shelter of an enormous tree. The light was dim, the air muggy, and Hermione used a handkerchief to dab away the sweat that beaded her forehead.

At first, Hermione saw only dense grass. Then something gleamed amidst the green. It was a vibrant scale and it shone as if it were a jewel.

Luna knelt on the ground and began to lay out the Santa hats she’d made. Hermione, following her lead, took out all the dodgers she’d baked. The scent of sweet raspberry and buttery shortbread began to perfume the air.

Suddenly, a bird-like head popped up from the grass. Its feathers were purple and jade; its yellow eyes gleamed like two coins. Then it slithered toward them in excited haste.

Hermione had been around many, many magical creatures, but the Occamy might have been the strangest. This one cooed as it sniffed the biscuits.

“We’ve come bearing presents, oh Beautiful Ones,” Luna said seriously, bowing her head.

Hermione bowed her head, too. She didn’t want to come across as disrespectful.

The Occamy began to munch happily on the biscuit, cooing in delight. More vibrant heads popped up from the grass. They all seemed rather excited for the Christmas treats.

The creatures encircled them as they ate the biscuits. Luna began to pet them and put the little Santa hats on them. One adventurous creature slithered into Hermione’s lap. It blinked its big yellow eyes up at her.

Oh, right, the snuggles, Hermione thought, and wrapped her arms around it.

The creature’s body was cool to the touch. Its scales felt like velvet.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered, scratching its head.

The creature purred in her arms.

This is what Malfoy is like, she thought as she snuggled the Occamy. He won’t have feathers or a beak, but he will be just as alien once he transforms. Surely he deserves comfort as well?

Hermione spent over an hour snuggling the Occamy before she brought up the topic of their eggs. “I need them for brewing,” she explained, hoping they understood. “Perhaps you have a surplus?”

The Occamy she was currently holding cocked its head to one side, then the other, its Santa hat bobbing. She scrutinised its face, hoping not to see hostility.

But then the creature cooed and slithered out of her arms. She stood and followed it deeper beneath the tree, deeper into the shadows.

When they stopped, Hermione muttered a Lumos and raised her wand. In the gloom were gleaming grey eggs. They almost looked like moon rocks.

“I will need as many as you can give me,” she said. “I will be brewing a lot of potions. It’s for a good cause, I promise.”

The Occamy blinked up at her as if thinking, then it slithered around the whole bunch.

“I may take all of them? Yes? Thank you very much!” She knelt in the grass and began to cast Protect Spells on them, going one by one. Then she carefully placed each one into her magical bag.

She did all this slowly, watching the Occamy as she did it. She didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.

Afterward, Hermione made it back to Luna. Grinning widely, she raised her bag. “I’ve got them!”

“Brilliant!” Luna said, a bit distracted. She seemed to be in a debate with the creatures on which Christmas biscuit was the best: Fox's Fabulously Biscuit Selection or Walker’s Shortbread.

Hermione sat back down in the grass and let a few of the Occamy slither into her lap. As she petted them, she tried to remain patient. It was difficult. She was just so excited to get back home to begin brewing the Wolfsbane.

It took longer for them to return to England. They stopped in Budapest, then in Nantes, to acquire a few more ingredients from reputable sellers. Hermione would have liked to harvest the items herself, but she just didn’t have the time.

After dropping off Luna at her home, Hermione Apparated one last time and landed in snowy darkness in front of her cottage.

There was someone sitting on her front step, huddled in a cloak. Hermione gasped in shock when she spotted the person.

The figure stood up and came toward her. She raised her wand.

“Who is it?” she asked.

The figure lowered its hood, revealing a strong pointed nose, gleaming white-blond hair, and grey eyes that were just a touch lidded.

Malfoy.

“How long have you been waiting?” Hermione asked, inching closer.

“I would rather not say,” Malfoy said, voice a bit hoarse. There were snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. His lips were so pale they almost looked blue.

“Merlin,” Hermione whispered. “You look chilled to the bone.”

He shook his head and gave her a tired smile. “I’m glad you’re back. Did everything go all right?”

“Yes, it did.” She hesitated, feeling self-conscious. She was more than a bit dirty from all the travelling. “Um, I would invite you in, but … Um. I’m not very presentable.”

He just stared at her for a moment. His eyes seemed to be eating her up. “I understand,” he said softly.

“Good, then. Um. I’ll be busy for the next couple of days. Then I’ll—I’ll reach out, okay?” She said all this as she inched around him, making sure not to be in arm’s reach.

He turned his body with her, his eyes never leaving her. “Do you have plans for the holidays?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “I do want to be with you during that time. We can talk about it later.”

Nodding, he licked his lips as he watched her go inside.

Chapter Text

The next day, Hermione woke up before dawn. She had much to do and no time to waste.

As she waited for her cauldron to heat up on her hearth, she wrote to her main disturbers and told them their usual orders would be late. She was never late, but brewing the Wolfsbane was very important to her.

The Cold Moon was almost upon them.

Over the next two days, Hermione did nothing but brew. She was so focussed that she barely remembered to eat or sleep. She wanted the potion to be perfect.

The Occamy eggs were especially troublesome to handle. The potion required the use of their yolk and their shells. For the yolk, it was important to make sure it didn’t curdle. For the shells, she had to crush them into almost a fine powder, but not too fine. It was definitely trial and error.

When she was finally done, she bottled Malfoy’s doses and laid them neatly in a smart leather box. Then she wrapped the box in festive red ribbon.

It was no diamond bracelet, but it would do. She just hoped that Malfoy appreciated it.

Then she took herself up to bed and slept for nearly twelve hours. She dreamed of Malfoy—and of the wolf. They prowled around her, hungry, waiting, observing. They wanted her to come close, too close. Their teeth looked rather sharp in the tender light of dawn.

Hermione didn’t like venturing to the Ministry. It held bad memories of the war. It also made her feel diminished. The accomplishments of her small business seemed rather trivial in the face of its institutional grandeur. She was meant to be working within its walls. She was meant to be clawing her way up the ranks, striving for utmost political power. But she wasn’t.

No, she knew now none of that would have made her happy. Brewing made her happy. So did her cottage. And she wanted nothing to do with the wizarding government. With its scheming.

Hermione was rather dolled up. Her patent leather heels clicked on the floor as she made her way to the DMLE. The grey pleated skirt she wore was a bit more appropriate … except it was rather short.

Malfoy had been very good and stayed away. Didn’t he deserve to see her in a little skirt?

The entrance of the DMLE had two big double-doors. She opened one and stepped inside. It was a rather loud place. Lots of memos flying about. Lots of Auror chatter. All the junior Aurors had their cubicles out in the open. It was only the senior Aurors who got offices.

“I would like to speak to Auror Malfoy, please,” Hermione said to the receptionists at the front desk.

“His office is on the right, down the corridor,” said one of them. They seemed a tad distracted with memos.

“Okay, thank you.”

Hermione clutched her bag closer and headed for the corridor. She kept her head down a bit. She didn’t want to run into Harry. It wouldn’t have been a disaster if she did, but … she didn’t want to be distracted.

Thankfully, Malfoy’s name was on his office door. She stared at the D. L. Malfoy for a moment. The gold official letters looked quite attractive against the black lacquer.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

“Enter,” growled a voice.

Oh, bother, she thought, but opened the door.

Malfoy was stationed behind a cluttered desk. The look of shock on his face was comical.

He popped up from his chair. “Hermione.”

“Hello,” she said nervously. “I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as if his brain was having a hard time catching up to reality. He looked a bit tired, a bit harassed. There was an ink smear on his cheek. It seemed he had been elbows-deep in paperwork.

“No, no! Of course not! You’re—of course not.” He hurried around his desk to close the door behind her. Then: “May I take your cloak?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, now more shy than nervous. She kept her gaze down as he eased the cloak from her shoulders.

He paused to take in her outfit underneath. “Merlin,” he muttered to himself.

She did her best not to quiver. It was rather cold in his office. “I’m wearing a very short skirt.”

“Yes, you are.” His voice had turned rough.

“Do you like it?”

“Of course.” He moved away to hang up her cloak in what appeared to be a wardrobe. With its doors still open, he did a quick survey of his own face in the mirror, then made a huff of annoyance when he noticed the ink on his cheek.

Hermione politely looked away as Malfoy hastily tidied himself up with several spells.

“I didn’t expect you to visit me,” he said.

“Yes, I know, but I have a present for you.”

He closed the wardrobe. The scent of mint hung in the air. “A present?”

“Yes,” she said, setting her bag on the edge of his desk. She produced the smart leather box and handed it to him.

He smiled in slight bemusement, his fingers fiddling with the ribbon. “It’s not even Christmas yet.”

“Open it, please.”

“Okay,” he said, undoing the ribbon. His hands looked very pale, very cold as he did so. He set the box on his desk to lift the lid. Then he stared down at the bottles inside for a very long time. It was so quiet that it amplified all the outside department chatter.

Hermione took a step back. She hugged herself. “Do you … not like it?”

Malfoy finally raised his eyes to her. Something so possessive gleamed in their depths. It was frightening. “Did you buy this Wolfsbane?”

She retreated some more. “No … I brewed it myself. That’s why I had to go to China. For the Occamy eggs—”

He went after her. She yelped and tried to go for the door, but he caught her from behind, his hold like iron shackles.

“Malfoy,” she gasped, trying to get away.

He took her to the floor. Head down, arse up. He shoved up her skirt and ripped off her knickers.

“MALFOY!” she yelled.

Chapter Text

Malfoy ripped open his trousers, getting his cock out. Hermione thrashed in panic when she felt his hard shaft between her thighs. He wrapped his arms around her and pinned her against his chest, now in a crouch.

“Don’t you dare—!”

He was snarling in her ear. He was trembling all over. “I can’t handle it any longer,” he gasped.

“You must control yourself, you must, you must!”

He made a sobbing noise. “You came to me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You made me Wolfsbane. I know how difficult it is to brew. And you went all the way to China for it. For me.”

“Malfoy, please let me go.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“You don’t have my consent.”

A hard shudder went through him. “I need you,” he gasped raggedly.

“I know, but not here, please—”

He released her and she scrambled away. She got to her feet shakily. After taking a moment to gather herself, she turned to look at him and gasped loudly.

He had her knickers pressed to his face, one large hand wrapped around his reddened shaft. He was desperately stroking himself as he smelled her. He snarled as he did it.

“Jesus,” she whispered, so caught off guard that she used a Muggle word. The sight was shocking. Alarming. It was also hot as hell.

“I’m glad I wore my lacy underpants,” she said, breathless. She meant to use humour to bring down the temperature, but he only groaned deeply.

“You want me,” he moaned, now licking the black fabric. “I taste it on your knickers and I smell it in the air.”

It was true; she was rather wet. It was almost dripping.

He raised his face. “Please. Let me eat you out. Please.”

“H—here?”

“Yes.” Head bowed, he crawled toward her, on his hands and knees. His blond hair cascaded over his shoulder.

“Jesus,” she whispered again, her stomach fluttering. She was throbbing now. “But—but we’re in your office.”

He raised up on his knees and Summoned his wand. He made several slashes through the air with it, casting Nonverbal Spells. A deafening silence came over the room, making her ears pop a bit. A door came down over his hearth.

“See? We’re all alone now. We’ve got privacy.”

“But—but what if someone needs you? A colleague? Your boss?”

“Sod the lot of them,” he growled.

“Malfoy—”

“Please, damn you.”

She gulped. She squeezed her thighs together. “You must promise not to mount me.”

“I promise,” he said eagerly.

“I don’t want the first time you’re properly inside me to be on your bloody office desk!”

“Oh, Hermione,” he whispered, sounding taken.

“And—and put your prick away. I don’t want you to be tempted.”

Huffing a laugh, he pulled his pants and trousers back up, even buttoning everything. “There. Happy?”

“Yes,” she said shakily.

He stood and made a gentlemanly gesture. “Please have a seat.”

“Where?”

“On my desk, of course.”

“On top of your paperwork and everything?”

“Yes,” he growled.

Gulping, she inched around him. She was very aware of her lack of knickers as she eased herself onto his desk.

He sauntered up to her, his gaze utterly eating her up. At his desk, he made room for himself between her thighs, palms planted on either side. Once again, he loomed over her.

“May I kiss you?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to tremble too much.

He brought their mouths together. Again, she found his lips surprisingly soft. He tasted of mint.

He moved their lips together, being gentle, and his hand came up to cup the back of her head. Deepening the kiss, his tongue slipped past her lips. She moaned, her hands coming up to bury in the fabric at his shoulders.

Then his tongue found hers, stroking it, seducing it, and Hermione arched into him, quivering.

“Hermione, darling,” he whispered hotly.

“Please.”

Kissing down to her throat, Malfoy slid his hand between her thighs, petting her cunt. His fingers were very cold against her heated flesh.

She gasped loudly, her legs closing on instinct. She hadn’t been touched there by another person since her relationship with Charlie ended two years ago.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Malfoy murmured, his fingers quickly heating up.

She shuddered and murmured. The sensation was already so intense.

Malfoy eased up her skirt, revealing her cunt to him. He went still, his hands trembling. His eyes were trained on her, his mouth open.

“Look at you.”

“Hush.”

He caressed his fingers through her barely-there hair. “You groomed for me.”

“Of course I did,” she said shakily. “I shaved my legs, too. And applied vanilla lotion—”

“Vanilla, eh?” he murmured, his fingers parting her. He stared at the pink of her. “Fuck me.”

“Malfoy—Draco. Please. You’re embarrassing me.”

“You don’t like me looking at your cute fanny?”

She squirmed. “I feel so exposed—I’m not used to it—”

“Then let’s help you get more comfortable …”

Malfoy sat down in his chair, his face suddenly right there. She tried to close her legs even more, but he didn’t let her, his hands now on her thighs.

He opened his mouth to her cunt, giving her a lingering lick between her lips. She clapped a hand over her mouth, quieting herself. He moaned loudly.

Then, snarling, he licked greedily, reaching deep, and his tongue penetrated her.

She cried out into her palm.

He moved his tongue in and out of her, fucking her, and his thumb found her clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles.

Unable to stand it, she buried both hands in his hair, yanking. She was already quivering all over. “Oh, Draco,” she whispered.

He licked her and licked her, making such dark noises as he did it. His pretty lashes fluttered.

He lifted his head, his lips swollen, his chin chafed. His eyes were lidded, dazed. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he moaned.

“Please, hush, please, please—”

His thumb continued to stroke her. “No, I want to hear you, darling,” he murmured. “I want you to come on my tongue—”

He penetrated her again, reaching deep, and it felt impossibly good.

She rode his face, thrusting up, needing more. She yanked at his lovely hair as she did it.

“Are you going to come?” he murmured, barely lifting his head, his words muffled.

“Yes!”

“Then do it, darling. Come while I’m inside you—”

He licked and licked her, his tongue going deep again. She squeezed around the tip of it, her hips coming up off the desk.

She threw her head back and screamed—truly screamed. Her orgasm was so overwhelming that she fainted for a moment.

When she came to, Malfoy was standing over her. He had his cock out again. He was tugging himself quickly.

“Please,” he whispered, his gaze trained on her cunt, the fingers of his other hand parting her again.

“I still don’t—not here—”

“Just let me come on you. Mark you. Please.”

“Okay,” she said, now staring at his member. It was rather long, rather thick. He had most of its base hidden in his trousers, so she didn’t get a glimpse of his knot.

Malfoy’s tugging sped up. He snarled, his teeth flashing. The sound turned into a whimper as he began to empty himself. His seed splattered her thighs, her cunt. It was very warm. The sensation made her moan.

“Hermione,” he whispered raggedly, still quivering from his release. He ducked his head to lick up the mess he made. His tongue was burning hot.

He’s eating his own come off my skin, she thought, her eyes flickering back.

Malfoy moaned as he did it. Then, as if really intending to destroy her, he licked her cunt again, from taint to clit. He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. She was still so aroused that it felt as if she had a nipple there.

Hermione cried out and hit a second peak. It was just too good not to come again.

“Draco, Draco!” she cried, writhing. She was trying to ride his face.

Once she calmed down, Malfoy took her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, and she tasted herself on his mouth. She was relieved that her taste wasn’t too salty.

“Apologies, but the full moon is almost here. I should have turned you away at my door.”

“Is that why you went after me?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I—I lost myself there. I was caught off guard. I never expected you to seek me out at my work.”

She clung to him. “Did you like it? Me visiting you?”

“Yes.”

She searched his face. “I want to be with you for the full moon. I want to make sure my potion is effective.”

His expression hardened. “Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“No. Don’t even press the matter. I will not put you in danger like that.”

She bit her lip. “Will it always be like that? You locking the wolf away from me? Even though you think I’m your mate?”

“I don’t think you are my mate; I know it.”

She fiddled with a bit of his hair. “I want to help you, Malfoy. When you transform. I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.”

“Oh, darling,” he whispered, kissing her again. He was clinging, too.

Chapter Text

It was the Cold Moon, and Hermione was too nervous to brew. She paced her cottage, nearly tripping on her own dressing gown. It was still daytime, but the moon was approaching. It almost felt as if she were a creature too—as if she could feel its effects.

I still have time to go to him, she thought, aching.

Of course, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Draco Malfoy eating her out on his office desk. He had been a bloody expert at it. His skill deserved a standing ovation. It deserved a trophy.

It wasn’t as if her previous boyfriends hadn’t pleasured her orally. They had. But Malfoy had done it with a relish that she had never experienced before. It had seemed like the main event for him, not something to do to get her warmed up quickly.

Dear God.

Yes, Hermione was more than a little obsessed with Malfoy now. He had damn near mounted her in his own office. That was how much he wanted her. And—better yet—he had respected her enough not to do it.

He could have taken her then. They both knew it. He was too powerful physically for her to have fought him off. If she had really wanted to, she could have used her magic on him. But she didn’t want to. The truth was she would have been okay if he had fucked her then. She would have enjoyed it. Hopefully. She had no idea what his bloody knot would feel like.

It touched her deeply that he had held back because it was what she wished. It made her feel as if maybe, just maybe, she could trust him with her heart—with her everything.

Maybe I could marry this man.

But, no. She mustn’t think about marriage. Not yet. Only a few years ago, she had thought she’d marry Charlie Weasley—and look how that turned out.

And anyway, she liked her independence. It comforted her. She knew she could trust herself.

Hermione stopped to gaze out at her snowy garden. I still have time to get to him, she thought again.

The only problem was that she didn’t really know where Malfoy lived. She was pretty sure he still owned his family’s manor—but did he live there? No idea. It seemed like a rather large house for a bachelor to occupy.

Sighing, she moved to crouch before her fireplace. It had been a little while since she had chatted with Harry. He probably thought she was too busy shagging Malfoy to think about him.

Hermione threw some Floo Powder into the flames. When the orange turned green, she stuck her head over her hearth and announced, “Harry Potter, 12 Grimmauld Place!”

It was Marcus who answered the call. “Oh, hello, Hermione.” He didn’t smile but he rarely smiled. She had learned not to take it personally.

“Hi! I was wondering if Harry’s around? I’d love a chat with him.”

“Yes, he’s here. Just popped out to the garden for a moment. He should be back any moment.”

“Lovely. Um. How have you been, Marcus?”

“Fine, I suppose. Hey. Are you really dating Draco Malfoy?”

Hermione groaned. “Harry told you, did he?”

Marcus observed her with his dark eyes. “He came home with a bloody nose. I forced it out of him.”

“What else did he tell you about Malfoy?”

“Nothing all that important. They hate each other, you realise.”

“Oh, I realise,” she said.

Marcus still just observed her. His face was so sombre that she always struggled reading his expressions. “Malfoy used to say some terrible shit about Muggle-borns. You know, in the Slytherin Common Room.”

She sighed. “I’m sure he did.”

“He also talked a lot about you. And Harry, of course. But you were always pissing him off because you got better marks than he did.”

She tried not to beam. “Yes, I did. I was top of my class.”

There was the sound of a door opening and boots stomping on a carpet. Harry appeared in the parlour.

“Oi, is that Hermione?” he said.

Marcus looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, it is. She wants to chat with you.”

“Tell her to give me a moment. I need to get the mud off me.”

Marcus turned back to her. “Heard that?”

“Yes, I did. So … Do you have any advice for me? About Malfoy, I mean.”

“Not really. Only that he probably had a massive crush on you at thirteen but, instead of having the bollocks to own up to it, he called you a Mudblood and made jokes about the size of your teeth or whatever.”

“My teeth …?”

“Or whatever.”

“Well … Thank you for your input.” She tried not to let her voice go frosty.

He laughed a little, but then seemed to go a bit shy. For whatever reason, he didn’t like expressing himself around anyone who wasn’t Harry.

“I can’t blame Malfoy, you know,” he continued. “I had a massive crush on Harry, even though he was years behind me in school. Isn’t that just pathetic?”

She smiled. “It’s sweet.”

“So, yeah, I can’t blame Malfoy for not telling you. It was only after I turned thirty did I find the courage to tell Harry how I felt.”

“So sweet.”

A light blush entered Marcus’ cheeks. His expression remained sombre.

Harry appeared at his shoulder, smiling. “Oh, look who it is! The stranger.”

“I’ve been busy!”

“Getting shagged by bloody Malfoy, I’m sure.”

“Hey!”

Grinning, Harry gave Marcus a kiss on the cheek. Marcus nodded and left.

“Bye, Marcus! Thanks for the chat!” she called out but he didn’t reply.

“So, are you dating Malfoy? Properly?” Harry said.

“Yes, I am. I also took a quick trip to China with Luna. For potion ingredients.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m surprised Malfoy let you go.”

“I didn’t give him much of a choice.”

“And you returned with your door intact? My, oh my, maybe he is learning.”

She sighed, not liking the tone of his voice. “Harry … Where does Malfoy live?”

He snorted. “Where else? His Manor.” Then: “Why do you want to know?”

“Well … you see … The Cold Moon is tonight.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t you dare!”

“What?!”

“You can’t possibly be thinking about—about—”

“I want to make sure he’s okay!”

Harry looked around wildly, checking to make sure Marcus was out of ear shot. He leaned in and hissed, “The man’s going to be a bloody beast tonight. It’s too dangerous, Hermione.”

She sighed again. “That’s what Malfoy said too. He forbade me from visiting him.”

“Good! I’m glad he’s thinking sensibly!”

She looked at him, still contemplating things.

It was Harry’s turn to sigh. “If you go off to that manor tonight, I’ll be forced to join you. There’s no way I’m going to let you walk in on a bloody werewolf alone.”

She bit her lip. “He hurts himself, Harry! It gives him scars! Like Remus.”

“You can’t help that! I’m sure your presence will only make things worse. He can barely control himself around you when he’s a human. What do you think he’s going to do if he wakes up and finds your dead body next to him?”

“Oh my god, Harry!”

“It’s that serious, Hermione! I spent years having to track down that werewolf crime ring! I’ve seen their victims—what they are capable of!”

She covered her face. “He’s not like those criminal wolves. And he’s got the Wolfsbane I brewed him.”

“Promise me you won’t go after him tonight! Promise me or I’m coming over there right now to keep an eye on you.”

“I promise,” she grumbled.

“Good.” Then he hesitated. “Um. I have something else I want to talk to you about.”

She lifted her head. “What is it?”

Now Harry looked uncomfortable. He shifted in his crouch. “Um. So. Um. I’ve decided to go public about Marcus. My relationship with him, I mean.”

“Merlin, Harry! What a big step!”

“I know … and … Um. I think I should work up to it.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

He nodded. “Could Marcus and I come over for dinner soon? Before Christmas? And … Fuck. WillyouinviteMalfoy?”

“Huh?”

He inhaled. “Will you invite Malfoy?”

She blinked at him. “You want to have a double date at my house?!”

“Yes.”

She clapped her hands together. “That’s so cute! I love that idea!” Her smile fell away. “But … Are you sure? You and Malfoy don’t get on.”

Harry smiled grimly. “I promise to be a good boy. For Marcus.”

“And for me? Your best friend?”

He gave her a wink.

“I’ll ask Malfoy!” she said excitedly. “Hopefully he says yes!”

“He’ll say yes. He’s so desperate to please you.”

“I’ll want to give him the choice, of course. I don’t know. I’ll speak to him and let you know.”

“Good.”

Chapter Text

Hermione spent the night of the Cold Moon cleaning her cottage. She even scrubbed her dirty cauldrons. She even cleaned out her hearth.

Anything to keep her mind off things. Anything to keep her body moving.

She wished she could have used the time to brew, but she was too anxious to focus properly.

Malfoy was a wolf right now. He was prowling about. Maybe killing things. Maybe hurting himself. It made Hermione tremble just thinking about it.

Oh, I hope my potion worked, I hope, I hope …

But there was no hoping, not really. She knew it worked. She had that much faith in her brewing ability.

Still, she hated imagining Malfoy alone and scared and hurting. She wished to comfort him. To console him. To use her body to bring him warmth.

She just wanted to be there for him. And it hurt deeply that she couldn’t be.

It was barely light out when someone knocked on her door. Hermione sat up on her settee. At some point, she had fallen asleep right in her lounge.

Her heart thumped. It was Malfoy, she just knew it.

A little embarrassed, she tightened her dressing gown and hurried to open her door. She knew she wasn’t looking her best.

On her doorstep was indeed Malfoy. He was barely able to stand up.

“Hello, love,” he whispered, then pitched forward.

She caught him in her arms and nearly lost her balance. He wasn’t a small man, after all.

“You made it through,” she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. The blond seemed to be soaking up all of the dawn’s violet light.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, clinging.

“Please come in,” she said, guiding him inside. He could barely stand on his own two feet. She thought about taking him to the lounge, but no. She wanted to give him a bath. She wanted to really ease the ache from his body.

“Can you manage the stairs?”

“Are you finally inviting me into your bed?”

She laughed shakily. “No, my bathtub. Will you let me bathe you?”

“It depends; will you be starkers, too?”

Another laugh. She was still struggling to hold him up. “You sound exhausted, Malfoy. I doubt you actually want to shag me right now.”

“I always want to shag you,” he murmured, muffling a yawn. Then: “Please call me Draco. Please.”

“Will you let me give you a bath, Draco?” she asked shyly.

“Of course.”

She helped him upstairs to her own bathroom where she had the biggest tub. The space was cluttered with her beauty products. Her mats were a delicate pink. There were several water colours of dainty flowers on the wall.

It was a very feminine room—a room she had organised just for herself—and now Malfoy was standing in the middle of it, looking entirely too big.

“Um, I’ll start the water,” Hermione murmured. And she did just that. She added just a few drops of a relaxation potion that smelled of lavender. She didn’t want the fumes to be too much for him.

Then she turned back around and found him waiting patiently, still wavering. He was so tired that his eyes lolled a bit.

“Are you sure you want this bath?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“May I undress you?”

A hot smile ghosted his lips. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Gulping, she drew closer. She was unable to look up at him as she removed his cloak, then began to unbutton the shirt underneath, revealing pale, tender skin. His nipples were so very pink, so very delicate.

“You match my bathroom,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

When he was bare-chested, she had to pause. He was breathing rapidly. A hot flush was spreading down from his throat.

Trembling, she smoothed a palm up his chest. His skin was both warm and cold. There were also new scratches. Gashes.

“You hurt yourself,” she murmured, heart breaking. “Even though you were on my potion.”

“The wolf wanted to go to you. I didn’t let him.”

“Oh, Draco,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. She had to stand up on her toes to really make it work.

He groaned and kissed her back, his hands burying in the back of her gown.

He tasted of snow and earth and maybe a bit of blood. It was the taste of the wolf.

Shuddering, she eased back. He didn’t let her go far.

“I want you on your knees for me,” he said roughly. “I want to see what a good girl you can be for me—I want to see just how much of my cock you can take into your warm little throat—”

“Draco,” she said sternly.

“You haven’t a clue what it takes for me to hold myself back,” he growled. “And I had to do it all night—all fucking night—”

“I have some idea,” she said, thinking of how he’d pounced on her in his office.

“No, you don’t!” he snapped, sounding beastly. He saw the alarm in her expression and visibly forced himself to calm down.

Hermione eased out of his arms to turn off the tap, the bathtub now full. Then, not looking at him, she knelt before him to undo his boots. He sucked in a breath.

Hermione eased his boots off, then his socks. His feet were pale and thin, and they were covered in cuts.

“After I get you all cleaned up, I’m going to apply dittany to all the places you’ve hurt yourself.” She said this to his knees rather than look up at him.

“That won’t be necessary,” he croaked. “I heal fast.”

“Still.”

Then she began to undo his belt, her hands trembling even more. The sound he made was frightening.

“You’re going to make me come,” he growled.

“I’m just undoing your trousers.”

“While knelt before me.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Of course not.”

She got his trousers down, then helped him step out of them. She neatly folded them and set them aside.

He was rather aroused. His underpants were tented.

Sucking in a breath, she eased his pants carefully down, over his erection. It was too heavy to pop free. And his knot was already forming.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Please don’t be intimidated by it,” he whispered back.

“I’m not sure if that’s the word I’d use.” She was squeezing her internal muscles.

He groaned deeply. His hand came out to grab her hair, but he stopped himself, his fingers barely grazing her.

“I’ll have that bath now,” he said shakily, moving around her to step into the water. He groaned as he lowered himself down.

Hermione moved to kneel beside it. “Does the heat feel good? Easing some of the ache?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

She took up a flannel and soap, and began to wash him gently. All she did was rub the soapy cloth over his chest but it still made his erection jerk.

“You are insatiable,” she said with a smile.

“Insatiable implies you’ve sated me, which you have not.”

“Not everything we do needs to be about sex.”

“No, it doesn’t, but I’m currently naked with a massive hard on and you’re cleaning me.”

“I’m comforting you. After a terrible night.”

“There are far better ways you could be comforting me right now.”

“I’m not going to shag you when you can barely stand. That doesn’t sound like fun for either of us.”

“It sounds like a brilliant time to me.”

Sighing, she scrubbed under his arms. The hair there was blond and silky. It made her smile. Then she lifted each massive leg to scrub them too. His muscles were lithe but pronounced.

“Should I be calling you Mummy right now?”

“Do be quiet and let me care for you.”

Surprisingly, he did stop talking, though he did growl when she carefully cleaned between his toes. Judging by his cock, the touch aroused him even more than her cleaning his chest.

“I want to wash your hair now.”

“Yes, Hermione.”

She used a cup to wet all his lovely hair. The blond became a silver colour when wet. She was growing quite fond of the long strands, surprisingly enough.

Then she used her fruity shampoo to work up a generous lather. She made sure to massage his scalp as she did it.

“Does that feel good?” she murmured.

“Yes,” he moaned.

“Close your eyes now,” she said as she rinsed away the suds. Then: “Do you use conditioner?”

“Sometimes,” he murmured, eyes closed, head lolling. He was rather relaxed now—almost asleep.

“Let’s skip that part this time. I don’t want you falling asleep in the bath.”

“Hmm?”

She pulled the plug and helped him to his feet. Using a towel, she dried him off, her touch quick and efficient.

She then helped him out of the bathtub. She Summoned one of her dressing gowns—a grey one with white half-moons—and slid it onto him. It was rather short on him, which was both hilarious and arousing. The bottom of the gown fell an inch or two above his knees.

“Surely, you’ve got something longer?”

“Nope,” she lied, tying its belt firmly around his trim waist.

He grunted.

Smiling, she grabbed his hand and urged him to her bedroom. It was cluttered in here, too. She had far too many books and perfumes and knickknacks. On her chest of drawers was the flowers Malfoy had given her (under a Stasis Charm) and a framed photograph of Hermione and Harry.

Malfoy smiled a bit smugly at the flowers, but then his eyes narrowed when he saw the photograph. He picked it up and turned to her. “Why just you and Potter? Why not the Weasel as well?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t been very close with Ron ever since we broke up ages ago. Harry’s been my one and only best mate.”

He grunted again and set the frame down. Then he turned to gaze at her bed. “I’ve been dreaming of what your bed looked like,” he murmured, getting closer to it.

“Dreaming of it?”

“Yes—of fucking you on it. I’m rather pleased to see you do in fact have floral linen.”

She blushed. “You don’t mind my girly things, then? My bathroom is quite pink …”

He gave her a very confused look. “You’ve been living in this house by yourself. Of course you would’ve decorated it the way you pleased.”

He sat on the bed and smoothed a hand over the duvet. “This mattress could be bigger, though. We will need a lot of room for what I plan to do to you …”

“Oh, Draco,” she said, laughing a little.

Grinning, he fell back onto the pillows. He got himself comfortable, sighing. Then he suddenly went still. A deep frown came over his mouth.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, inching closer.

He snatched up a pillow and pressed it to his nose. He sucked in a deep breath, then another. He went even more still, looking as if he were a statue.

“Draco …?”

He raised burning eyes to her. “Why the fuck does your bed smell like Potter?”

Chapter Text

Oh, bother, Hermione thought.

“Um,” she said.

Somehow, Malfoy’s gaze turned hotter. “That’s not an answer.”

Sighing, she marched up to him and took his beautiful face between her hands. She forced him to look her in the eyes. “Once again, I’m not shagging Harry.”

“Why does your bed smell of him?!”

“Because I’ve been rather preoccupied and haven’t been able to change the sheets.”

“That’s not what I’m asking!”

She sighed again. “Harry slept in my bed the other night. He does that from time to time, usually when he’s had too much wine.”

Malfoy’s mouth dropped open. It took him a few moments to collect himself. “And you think I should just accept this?”

“Um. Yes?”

Malfoy grabbed her and rolled her onto the bed. She suddenly found herself beneath him.

She struggled half-heartedly. “You need to sleep.”

He snatched up her wrists and pinned them above her head. “No, what I need is to cover every inch of you in my seed. I need to cover this entire bed, too. I must mark every bloody thing that bastard has touched of yours …”

“That sounds exhausting,” she said.

He bared his teeth. “Very. But worth it.”

“Harry isn’t your competition. He never was and he never will be.”

“Bollocks,” Malfoy growled, leaning down so their noses almost brushed. “I remember how you looked at him when we were in school.”

She blinked in surprise. “You were watching me like that?”

“Of course,” he growled, then he hesitated. “Well. I was mostly watching Potter. But you were always with him.”

She laughed. “Oh, Draco. You’re ridiculous.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. You are.” She dropped a kiss to his nose and wiggled out from his grasp. “Now, be a good lad and go to sleep. You need your rest.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to finger you until you squirt. Get you nice and stretched for me. For my fat knot.”

“No, no,” she said, studying the exhaustion that lined his face. “You will go to sleep now.”

He pouted. “Do I get a reward, Mummy? For being a good boy?”

“Perhaps,” she said, ignoring the sarcastic gleam in his gaze.

Snorting, he closed his eyes and leaned back. It only took a few moments for his expression to relax, for his breathing to deepen. Yes, the man was terribly knackered, no matter what he said.

She drew the duvet over them, and then snuggled in close and held him. She fell asleep to the sound of him snoring softly.

When Hermione woke up, snowy daylight streamed in through her thin curtains. Malfoy lay beside her, lounging, one arm tucked under his head. He had been watching her.

Yawning, she sat up. “What time is it?”

“Half past eleven, I think.” His voice was still drowsy.

“Wow, we slept for hours. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“That’s brilliant.”

They stared at one another. Malfoy didn’t seem in a hurry to leave or even move. He was just watching her, his grey eyes a little darker than usual.

Blushing, she ducked her head a bit. She took in his short dressing gown. It was still tied around his waist. His pale thighs looked muscular and warm. She found the hair on them rather pretty.

She was throbbing for him. And they were in her bed. They were practically naked with each other.

Trying not to tremble, she Summoned her wand and cast a Refreshment Charm on her mouth. Then she set her wand onto her bedside table, next to a stack of books.

Malfoy still didn’t move, though he raised an eyebrow at her.

She moved closer. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She pounced on him, causing him to let out a surprised gasp. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply. There was so much mint in her mouth that it flavoured his tongue too.

She snogged him thoroughly, letting herself utterly give in. His teeth felt sharp as she dragged her tongue over them. He moaned.

“I want to suck on your knot,” she whispered, drawing back a bit to take in his expression.

Malfoy looked rather dazed. His breath had gone ragged. “Bloody hell.”

Biting her lip, she forced herself to continue. “I want to suck you until you come on my face. Does that sound like a good time to you?”

He bared his teeth, utterly aroused. “Fuck you for even asking.”

“Fuck me? You don’t sound like a lad who wants his treat.”

He blinked at her with something close to wonder on his face. When he spoke, his voice was so rough it sounded like a whisper. “I need you.”

She leaned in to kiss him. “Yes, and I need you.”

Then she Summoned the bracelet he had given her. She put it on her right wrist. So he could see it properly while she wanked him.

He groaned softly. The sound deepened when she began to remove her clothes.

“Oh, Merlin.”

“I wish I was sparkling clean for you,” she murmured as her breasts were revealed.

“You have no idea how delicious you smell,” he whispered. “How delicious you look.”

Encouraged, she shimmied out of her pyjama bottoms and underpants. Her pubic hair wasn’t as immaculate as she would have liked.

His hand shot out to grab her but she caught his wrist.

“No touching,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

He growled. “You mean to torture me.”

“I mean to take my time. To do this right. I will not have you mauling me. Metaphorically, of course.”

His teeth gleamed. “Of course.”

Then she scooted closer to undo his dressing gown. She pushed back the woolly fabric, revealing his desperate erection. His shaft was so heavy that it leaned to the side, pulled down by its own weight.

Saliva filled her mouth. Her cunt pulsed.

Looking him in the eye, she got into place between his gorgeous thighs. She paused, just making him wait.

“I can smell Potter,” he hissed. “It’s disgusting.”

She wrapped a hand around him, not breaking eye contact. She gave him a firm stroke, the bracelet jingling. “And somehow, you are managing to still be as hard as a rock …”

“Damn you,” he whispered.

She laughed hotly and stroked him again. It was very arousing to feel his silky foreskin move with her fingers. She cupped his heavy balls, feeling their pounding heat. They looked too big for her palm, but she still managed to give them a sensual squeeze.

His mouth fell open as if he meant to moan but no sound came.

Then, still staring him down, she gave his dripping tip a long, lingering lick. His eyes rolled up and the tip spurted more precome.

Yes, she thought, giving herself over to the arousal. Her mind clouded over. She stopped thinking for once.

She took him into her mouth and sucked. He shouted.

She sucked and sucked, relishing all the wet that filled her mouth. When she felt his hands in her hair, she came up, fully expecting to reprimand him for speeding things along, but all he did was take out her messy bun so he could hold up her hair himself.

Their gazes met again. His face was rather sweaty now, rather flushed.

“You taste so good,” she whispered.

“I’m in love with you,” he said raggedly.

“Hush,” she said.

“No, I’m in love with you.”

“Oh, Draco.” She didn’t have the will to argue right now. He could feel whatever he wished when he was throbbing for her.

Moaning, she kissed and licked her way down his thick shaft. She encountered his knot. It was a reddened bulge at the base of him. It looked tender. It looked in need of a bit of soothing.

She dragged her tongue over it, mapping out its girth. She felt veins in it. And they were pulsing.

Then she wrapped her lips around his knot and sucked it.

He shouted again, his hands shuddering so hard that they yanked her hair.

She continued to suck it. She felt it thickened even more on her tongue.

“You’re making me come,” he snarled, sounding desperate, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears.

She licked back up his shaft to take his tip past her lips again. She went deep, working as much of him as she could fit into her mouth. She got in only a few bobs before he snarled and took command of her head.

Oh, she thought as he held her in place and thrust up. She gagged but didn’t try to get away.

“That’s it,” he growled darkly. “Take me.”

He pounded into her mouth. She drooled and moaned. It was so, so good. She reached down to pleasure herself, encountering a flood of wet. Her clit was nice and swollen for her. She made her own eyes roll back as she began to rub herself.

He continued to use her mouth, sounding so beastly. I could come like this, she thought, rubbing harder.

Then his tip managed to breach her throat. She coughed and sputtered, letting the stinging discomfort and slight panic wash through her. She couldn’t breathe, she was choking, but it was so hot, so hot, and she was so close to orgasming—

Crying out, he ripped away and erupted all over her face. She moaned and stuck out her tongue. His seed was very hot. There was a lot of it.

“You’re mine, you’re mine!” he snarled, his fists yanking her hair. The pleasure of his release was making him quiver all over.

Once he relaxed, she leaned in to lick his cock again. She meant to clean him up—to tease him—but he wasn’t going soft. She got her mouth around his tip, sucking off the taste of his release, and he groaned as if in agony.

Her fingers quickened on her clit. Hot feeling washed through her. She began to shudder hard. She was right there—

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he snarled, ripping away and rolling them over.

Malfoy snatched up her wrists and pinned them above her head again. She blinked at him in surprise, her lashes sticky.

“Your pleasure belongs to me,” he snarled, showing his teeth. His beautiful hair was cascading over his shoulder again. It was tousled.

She mewled and arched. Her cunt was so warmed up for him. So needy. “Will you put just the tip in?”

“Oh my god.”

She laughed quietly, so aroused. Her eyes were now closed. “Please, Draco. Just the tip. But you can’t come inside. I didn’t take a potion.”

“You mean to murder me.” His voice was worn thin.

Another laugh. “It’s okay if you can’t. Let me Summon one of my toys. I’ll give you a show—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to let a bloody toy cuckold me.”

She opened her eyes again. His face was transformed. The wolf was there, she could see it.

She squirmed. “Just the tip, love. Come on, I need to be filled. I need to be stretched. And I need a bit of practice. So I’ll be ready to properly take your knot.”

“I knew you’d get your revenge,” he groaned miserably. “I knew it, I knew it …”

“Revenge for what?”

“For calling you terrible names. For becoming a Death Eater. For beating up on Potter.”

She was too aroused to argue. “Whatever, love. I just need you inside me. Please don’t make it hurt.”

He snarled and grabbed his cock. He kept one of her wrists pinned down as he dragged his engorged tip between her lips. She heard how wet she was for him. They both did.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, eyes rolling up a bit. “You feel like bloody silk.”

She whimpered. “Please.”

He continued to hold her down as he thrust between her lips, over and over. The head of his cock nudged her clit, even massaged it a bit.

She moaned and squirmed. She needed more.

Shuddering, he gasped, “I’m going to die,” and then he pushed inside her for the very first time.

Her eyes went wide. She gaped up at him.

He watched her with his beastly gaze as he slid in until he was about halfway. He bared his teeth again, really meaning it this time. He was drooling on himself.

“Oh,” she cried softly, already feeling so full.

He pulled out a little, then worked back in. She was so very tight for him. She had never taken a cock so big.

He let out a sob, his hand trembling as he held his shaft tightly, not letting himself go deeper.

“This is what I needed,” he said tearfully, his eyes shining. “This is what the wolf needed.”

She sneaked a hand between them. She rubbed her clit. “Draco,” she whispered.

He thrust again, being so careful. “For years, I ached for this cunt. For years.”

“Fuck,” she gasped.

He tightened his hold on her wrist, really pinning her down. He snarled wetly. “I fucking own you now. Do you understand me? No one else. Not Potter. Not any Weasel. Me. Only me. And I’m going to fucking impregnate you. I’m going to knot you. I’m going to give you several of my pups—”

“DRACO!”

He pulled out and came all over her for a second time. “Hermione, Hermione!” he cried as he did it.

Moaning, she was on the verge of coming, too. Her fingers were working quickly. She was just peaking when he snarled and shoved her hand away.

She opened her mouth to cry out in frustration, but then he was eating her cunt so hungrily, eating his own seed off her cunt, and she cried out in pleasure instead.

He was still quivering from his own release as he ate her to completion.

“Draco,” she sobbed, her hands burying in his hair, yanking. She rolled her hips, trying to ride his mouth. Her orgasm was a long one. Her muscles remained tight for so long it began to ache.

She was asleep before the pleasure released her. He could have mounted her then—forced his knot so deep inside her—but he didn’t.

When she woke up, she found him on top of her, utter dead weight. She had a faceful of his blond hair.

Groaning, she pushed him to the side. He murmured sleepily and didn’t rouse.

She slipped from bed and tried not to grimace. She was sticky all over. His semen had turned flaky on her face.

She went into her bathroom to have herself a quick shower. Her nipples were still hard. Her cunt still so wet. She would probably spend the rest of her life aching for him.

After washing up, she wrapped herself in fluffy towels and grabbed the dittany. Malfoy was laid on his stomach, snoring, his face buried in a pillow.

She paused just to admire the view of a gorgeous naked man in her bed. He was so pale, too. His shoulders were broad and chiseled. His bum was well-shaped. It was chiseled as well.

Who knew Draco Malfoy looked like a bloody underpants model without his clothes on?

Grinning, she applied the dittany to his feet. She was glad to see the cuts were already healing, like he’d said.

Malfoy woke up with a moan. He wiggled out of her grasp. “Who’s insatiable now? Already warming me up for round three.” He said this all rather drowsily.

She laughed and crawled onto the bed. He was on his back now, so she applied the dittany to the scratches on his chest.

He watched her as she did it. “That was the best fuck of my life,” he murmured.

“Mine, too,” she whispered. “And you only got your tip inside.”

He groaned and closed his eyes. “You were a bloody villain for that, you know. I almost died holding myself back.”

“It was hot, though. So, so hot.”

He growled.

She hesitated. “Um, Draco. I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Will you—Um. Will you have dinner with me … and Harry and Marcus?”

“Who’s Marcus?”

“Oh! Right. Marcus Flint. Harry’s been dating him in secret for ages.”

Malfoy’s mouth fell open. “Marcus Flint?!”

“Yes.”

He tipped his head back and roared with laughter.

She was offended. “Oi! You bastard! Don’t laugh!”

“FLINT?! The troll?!”

“He’s not a troll!”

“Yes, he is! You didn’t have to share a common room with him. He could barely string two words together!”

“He’s just quiet, damn you! And he’s a lovely person!”

Malfoy continued to laugh. He held his stomach as he did it. “Potter’s taking it up the arse from bloody Marcus Flint. The troll. Oh, it’s just too good. Oh, Christmas has come early, it has!”

She glared at him, not liking his behaviour one bit. He got a look at her expression and sobered up.

“Apologies,” he said, biting back a smile.

She continued to glare. “You are such an arse. And rather mean.”

He sat up and took her into his arms. “Harry Potter has been my professional—and personal—rival since I was a bloody child. Let me have this.”

“You are obsessed with him, you do realise.”

He shrugged. “I’m an obsessive person, Hermione. I can’t blame it all on the wolf.”

“Harry doesn’t think about you. He really doesn’t.”

Malfoy bared his teeth a little. “He’ll think of me once I’ve become Head Auror. He’ll think of me and cry.”

She sighed and mustered on. “Harry wants to come out publicly soon. With Marcus at his side. He wants to do it slowly, though. Hence the dinner with us.”

“Sure, I’ll have dinner with them, but I’m not sure if Flint even knows how to hold a knife and fork …”

“Malfoy.”

He laughed. A lot.

Chapter Text

Just two days later was the dinner. Hermione tried not to be anxious about it. She made a lasagna with beef mince and redcurrant jelly. She wore a retro cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves. The colour was a lovely sapphire.

Malfoy was the first to show up. He was also wearing blue. He looked at her, then himself. “We’re matching. Is that too idiotic?”

She smiled. “Draco, you sound nervous.”

He scowled. “Absolutely not.”

Laughing, she urged him inside, taking his cloak and the big bottle of wine he’d brought.

“Good thinking,” she said with a wink.

They went into her kitchen, where she had the wireless playing quiet Christmas tunes. On the table was the bubbly lasagna and a big basket of focaccia.

“Will you put together the salad?” she asked him.

Malfoy brightened. “Yes. Anything.” He seemed excited to be given a task.

Hermione brought out the pomodorino tomatoes, red onion, fresh cucumber, and black olives. “Can I trust you to whip together the dressing as well?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Of course.”

She nodded and grabbed some oil, vinegar, and garlic for him. Then she left him to his own devices.

A few minutes later her doorbell rang. Her heartbeat picked up.

“Oh, Harry’s here!” she said, doing her best to not let her voice waver.

She went to her door to greet her newest guests. Harry’s expression was stormy.

“Is he already here?” Harry growled.

“Yep!” Hermione said. “Come in, come in!”

She took their cloaks and urged them to her kitchen. Malfoy set down his salad utensils and slowly turned around.

Harry and Malfoy glowered at each other, not saying anything. The tension was palpable.

“Well, then,” Marcus muttered.

“Oh, stop it, you two!” Hermione said. “We are here to have dinner, not duel!”

Malfoy broke first. He visibly forced himself to relax. “Hello, Potter,” he said, voice taking on a nasally tone.

Harry raised his chin. “Hello, Malfoy.”

“Sit down, please,” Hermione said. “Our lasagna is waiting. I’ll pour the wine.”

“No, wait,” Malfoy said, reaching into his pocket. He slid out something extremely minimised. He muttered a spell and a massive bouquet of roses appeared in his hand. “For you,” he murmured, bowing a little as he handed her the bouquet.

“Oh, they’re lovely!” she gushed, taking the flowers.

“Show off,” Harry coughed.

Malfoy gave him a condescending wink. Harry’s expression turned sour.

Hermione ignored them both as she found a vase and enlarged it so it could hold the bouquet. She put the roses on her counter, taking a moment to admire them.

At the table, Malfoy was pouring everyone a serving of wine. She was using her Christmas goblets, dishware, and candlesticks. Her mum would be very proud.

Harry gave his wine a suspicious sniff. “How do I know this isn’t poisoned?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I spent years waiting for Hermione. Why would I poison her now?”

“I don’t know,” Harry growled. “You are a certified loon. Everyone knows that.”

“Who is everyone?” Malfoy snapped. “You and your work cronies?”

“You mean my friends?”

“I mean the people you’ve turned against me!”

Hermione touched Malfoy’s wrist. She said quietly, “Not now, love.”

Malfoy deflated.

They settled down in their seats. A spell served them some lasagna, bread, and salad. Marcus seemed rather uncomfortable as they dug in.

“So, Marcus, how is the season going for you?” Hermione asked brightly.

The man barely looked at her. “Um. Fine. I suppose.”

“Are you still a chaser for the Falcons?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes, I am,” Marcus said carefully. He looked as if he were being interrogated.

Harry gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his thigh underneath the table. Malfoy’s eyes gleamed with smug humour. Harry caught this and scowled at him.

“What?” he snapped. “Do you have a problem with what you see?”

Malfoy brought his goblet to his lips. “No, no, of course not.” He was now almost laughing.

Hermione watched Malfoy, a bit aghast. She just might kick him out of her house if he said something rude about Marcus.

Harry smirked. “Don’t tell me you are jealous.”

Malfoy bit his lip so he didn’t smile. “Yes. Right. That’s what I’m feeling. Jealousy.”

“Marcus is a lovely man,” Hermione said, not sure if she was being helpful. “I’m rather jealous.” She gave Marcus a wink.

The man flushed deeply. He ducked his head and squirmed in his seat.

Malfoy shot her a nervous look. “What?”

“I’d love to date someone like Marcus. He’s strong and dependable. He’s rather attractive, too. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Marcus. Quidditch really does wonders for your physique.”

Harry and Malfoy blinked at her in shock. Marcus laughed shakily—too shakily.

Hermione took a deep sip of her wine. “I could continue, but I don’t want to embarrass him too much.”

Harry recovered from his shock. “Yes, he’s a brilliant catch. That’s why I want to tell people about us. Tell the world.”

“The timing is rather convenient, though,” Malfoy said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Harry cried.

“You coming out. Gaining the sympathy of the masses. Right when Robards is slated to retire. Rather convenient.”

Harry looked outraged. “I’m not—! How dare you—!”

“Oh, I dare,” Malfoy growled, leaning forward.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Hermione announced.

“You are disgusting,” Harry hissed, leaning forward too. “You have no idea what it’s like for people like me!”

“People like you?” Malfoy said innocently. “You mean the mentally deficient?”

“For gay men! For anyone who isn’t heterosexual!”

“Oh, cry me a bloody river,” Malfoy growled. “We all have our own problems!”

“No, we don’t!” Harry snapped. “You are privileged. You are rich and a Pure-Blood, and you utterly drip with classist arrogance!”

“And you’re not rich, Potter? The boy who inherited a vault of gold and the Black Family’s estate?”

“I grew up in a bloody cupboard!”

Malfoy pouted. “Poor you. Do you want a little badge to wear? For ‘Most Disadvantaged’?”

“FUCK YOU!” Harry roared.

Malfoy grabbed the table and hissed, “Say it again, Potter. It makes me delighted to hear it from your lips.”

“I hate you!.”

“And I hate you,” Malfoy said lowly.

Both men glared at each other. There was so much tension in the room that the electric lights flickered. One of them was losing a bit of control of their magic.

“Well, then,” Marcus said again.

Hermione rubbed her lips, trying to contain her amusement. She couldn’t believe her own nerve as she said, “Shall we leave them alone, Marcus? So these two can fuck it out?”

Malfoy gasped loudly. “Hermione!”

Marcus slapped a hand over his mouth. He was chortling deeply.

For a moment, Harry was just as aghast as Malfoy; then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Then everyone was laughing. Well, everyone except for Malfoy.

“Don’t even joke about something like that!” Malfoy said, his expression fierce. “You are the only person for me.”

“Oh, sure, I won’t make any more jokes, if you two promise to let it go. Yes, you are professional rivals or whatever, but we are having dinner now. Let’s all agree to be adults who can carry on polite conversation.”

“Hear, hear,” Harry said.

Malfoy took a deep breath, then another. The tension eased from his face. “Marcus. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Do you keep up with anyone we went to school with?”

“Besides Harry?”

Malfoy gave him a bland smile. “Yes.”

Marcus thought for a moment. “I dated Adrian Pucey for a bit. Oh, and Cass Warrington. Then there was Theo Nott …”

“You dated Theodore Nott?!” Malfoy said, shocked. “Am I the only boy in Slytherin who isn’t taking it up the arse?!”

Marcus grinned, showing off a few broken teeth. “Oh, I don’t bottom. Never have. Never will.”

Malfoy blinked at him.

Harry laughed again. “Don’t look so confused, Malfoy.”

“I’m not confused!”

“I’m rather interested in men bottoming,” Hermione said.

Malfoy dropped his fork and knife. “Pardon me?”

“Oh, yes,” she said seriously. “The bigger the cock the better. I’ve been researching spells and everything.”

Malfoy went pale. “W—what kind of spells?”

She flapped her hand. “I’d rather not say. It’s not appropriate conversation. Just know that we are going to need a lot of lube.”

Malfoy’s mouth fell open.

Harry roared with laughter again. Marcus snickered behind his hand. Hermione did her best to blink innocently.

“You’re—you’re taking the piss, aren’t you?” Malfoy whispered.

She smiled at him.

“I’m pretty sure Ron’s current girlfriend knows those sorts of spells,” Harry said, licking a bit of sauce from his fork.

“Really?” Hermione said.

“Oh, yeah … He’s mentioned it to me once or twice …”

“Wow,” she said with a laugh. “That sounds like a lot of fun for them.”

Malfoy watched her nervously. “Did you ever … um … do anything like that with Weasley? Or his brother?”

She winked at him. “Maybe.”

Now Malfoy looked very conflicted. It made her laugh again.

“It’s sweet,” Harry said. “How much he wants to please you.”

“It is,” she said, gazing softly at Malfoy.

“Of course I want to please her. She’s mine.”

“I feel the same way about Harry,” Marcus said, seeming more relaxed now. “I’ve been dying to tell people about our relationship. For years. Haven’t even told my own mum. But I’ve kept silent for him.”

Harry blinked back tears. “Thank you, love.”

Malfoy smiled a little. “That sounds like a rather big sacrifice. I’d do the same for Hermione. If she asked it of me.”

Under the table, she gave Malfoy’s hand a squeeze. His eyes went very soft as he looked at her.

“You two do seem like a good couple,” Harry said reluctantly. “If you are able to remain in control of yourself, of course.”

Malfoy lifted his lip at him. “You have no idea how much effort I put into remaining in control. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt her.”

“Good,” Harry said.

Marcus looked bewildered but didn’t press it.

There was a pause in conversation as they continued to eat.

“This lasagna is brilliant, Hermione,” Marcus said.

She beamed. “Thank you!”

“The salad is so tasty, too,” Harry said.

“Oh, Draco made the salad.”

Harry gave Malfoy a hesitant smile. “Good job.”

Malfoy showed his teeth. “Thank you, Potter.”

Harry hesitated awkwardly, then he said, “So. Malfoy. Have you got a look at the Ballard case? Yes? What do you think about the evidence found in the cellar?”

“I do believe you’re breaking protocol by discussing such matters in front of civilians.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

Malfoy turned serious. “I think it’s been tampered with. We can’t trust it.”

“Yes. Good. That was my conclusion, too.”

The two men fell into a long conversation about work. Hermione asked Marcus about his parents, then his job. She did her best not to make the poor bloke feel as if he were being interrogated again.

A few hours later, Harry and Marcus went home. Malfoy remained to help her clean up.

“That was rather naughty of you,” he growled. “What you said about me and Potter.”

She smirked. “You two deserved it.”

“I don’t want to shag him!” He said this anxiously.

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Really it doesn’t. I wouldn’t care if you did.”

Malfoy, looking offended, set down a rag to grab her by the shoulders. He kissed her deeply. “You don’t understand what I feel for you if you can make such jokes. You are my mate. I’m bonded to you. My soul is bonded to you.”

All she could do was stare up at him. “I need to research the matter myself. Before I believe it. I fancy you. I care for you deeply. But I don’t feel bonded to you. Not yet.”

He kissed her again. “It’s okay. I can wait.”

“Good.”

There was a pause.

“Um, Hermione. You don’t really want to bugger me with a magicked prick, do you?”

She blinked innocently again. “It’s only fair, isn’t it? If you expect me to take your massive knot?”

His mouth dropped open. He looked horrified.

She finally let herself howl with laughter.

Chapter Text

And just like that, it was only a few days before Christmas. Hermione couldn’t believe Malfoy had been in her life for almost a month now. Well—romantically in her life.

She had to get him a Christmas present. It was important to her. But what did one get a man who owned a bloody manor? Surely he already had everything …

She supposed she could brew him more potions, but she really couldn’t focus in any meaningful way. And it wasn’t just because of Malfoy. She barely worked between Christmas and New Year’s, and her distributors knew it.

No, she didn’t want to do any more brewing. Not until January.

Somehow, Hermione found herself in Muggle shops. Perhaps Malfoy would enjoy the novelty of receiving something non-magical? She was in the department store Fenwick, looking at Barbour Polos. She thought Malfoy would look rather fetching in a polo shirt … but Barbour didn’t seem expensive enough for him. He’d picked her up in a flying carriage, after all. A man like that didn’t go around wearing clothes worth less than fifty pounds.

Sighing, she moved to the jewellery section. There were some watches for sale, but again, they didn’t seem fancy enough.

Oh, damn, I’m in the wrong shop altogether, she thought. Fenwick obviously wasn’t posh enough for Malfoy …

She left the enormous store and wandered down the pavement, contemplating things. What she needed to do was pop over to Diagon Alley, but the place would be an absolute madhouse. Witches and wizards really didn’t have many options to do their holiday shopping.

She walked on, her mind a blur. This whole business was really making her feel inferior. Incompetent. They really weren’t a good match. For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy was part of the magical aristocracy, and Hermione was very much not. Her parents were dentists! And she was Muggle-born.

What in the world was Malfoy thinking?!

Hermione remembered his words from the other night: You are my mate. I’m bonded to you. My soul is bonded to you. It made her shudder to recall it. And it also terrified the hell out of her.

Malfoy hadn’t been given the choice. He hadn’t chosen to be with Hermione. He was being run entirely by his creature instinct. Didn’t that make him a victim? Didn’t that make her an exploiter? If she agreed to be in this bond with him, didn’t that mean she would be taking advantage of him?

Her feet halted. Her world spun. She had to take a deep breath, then another.

She was getting ahead of herself. And she was being her biggest critic. It wasn’t her fault if the wolf chose her. It wasn’t. And it was okay if she gave into Malfoy’s advances. It made him happy when she did so. It brought peace to his life. Very much needed peace. And comfort.

Her feet started moving again. She had more confidence now. Malfoy was a strong and capable person. He was obviously independent. He was obviously magically gifted. If he didn’t want Hermione in his life, he would have found a way to break the bond. He would have.

The shops she passed were becoming a bit more posh. In one of the windows was a mannequin wearing an elegant but sexy negligee. She stopped to stare at it.

He wants me, she thought. He wants me, he wants me …

Draco Malfoy didn’t need a shirt or a watch for Christmas. He needed her. And he’d made it perfectly clear.

I need him, too, she thought, trying not to linger on the memory of their shag. How desperate he had been. How good his knot had tasted. Just how much seed he had given her.

Smiling, she went into the shop, which had intimate lighting and devastatingly gorgeous women working as attendants.

Hermione did her best not to blush as she told them what she was looking for. The women smiled knowingly. Yes, they had the perfect thing for her—for her and him.

About a half an hour later, Hermione emerged from the shop carrying elegantly wrapped parcels. They were for her, no one else. She planned to open them up the moment she got home.

After her dinner, Hermione wrote to Malfoy. May I come over tomorrow? I would like to see your home. And I would like to spend the night. Perhaps also spend Christmas Eve with you. Unless you have other plans, of course.

His reply arrived in record time: PLEASE. I’ll be waiting for you. Below are the Manor’s coordinates. It’s changed since the war. I promise. Love, Draco.

She shivered as she read his words. Tomorrow, she would finally take his knot. Properly. Hopefully. God, it was almost too overwhelming to even think about.

And she had much grooming to do. Exfoliating. Moisturising. She wanted to be utterly perfect for him. Her new lingerie would definitely help.

Tomorrow evening couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Text

It was snowing heavily in Wiltshire, and Hermione wasn’t dressed for it. She barely even had clothes on. Beneath her black peacoat she only wore her red lingerie. She had brought along other outfits, of course, but they were currently tucked away in her bag.

As she strode up the manor’s slippering path in sexy black stilettos, she almost didn’t believe her own nerve. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

The old house seemed to glower at her. It looked mediaeval and foreboding. She did her best not to remember the war and what she had experienced within its walls.

Perhaps they should have spent Christmas at her cottage … But, no. Malfoy said they were bonded. She couldn’t ignore his lineage forever.

At the front, cosy candlelight beckoned her closer. Her ankles wavered in their heels as she mounted the steps. She knocked on the grand double doors, feeling rather stupid. It was as if she were a peasant knocking on the front entrance to a castle, begging for scraps.

The doors swung open, revealing Malfoy. He looked every inch the Lord. Perhaps even a Duke. She almost bowed her head and murmured, Your Grace.

He was wearing a waistcoat.

“You’re here,” he said softly.

She clutched her coat tighter. “Yes, I am.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you’re freezing. Get in, get in!” He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the foyer. She almost tripped. Her stilettos were very high.

He slammed the doors closed and rounded on her. “Why aren’t you wearing trousers? Not even stockings?”

She shivered. “Um. It’s a surprise.”

“Oh,” Malfoy said, deflating. Then: “I’ve got a surprise, too.”

“You do?” She was rather excited.

“Yes, follow me.” He took her hand—being more careful this time—and guided her from the foyer.

The manor house was enormous on the inside. A grand staircase greeted her. There were flower petals and gold candelabras on its steps.

Her feet halted. “Wow, it’s gorgeous.”

He grinned wolfishly. “Good, I’m glad you like it. The petals lead right to my bed. My rather large bed.”

She snorted. “Afraid I’d get lost?”

“Perhaps.”

There was scurrying on the walls. For a moment, she thought it was mice, but no—it was the portraits. His ancestors were jumping from frame to frame, literally falling over themselves, to get closer.

“Oi, cut it out!” he barked at them. “Don’t gawk at her!”

“Is this the one?” piped an old woman, who held up a pocket monocle to get a better look at Hermione. “She looks rather short—too short to be a Malfoy.”

“Shut up, woman!” hissed an old man. “Don’t be rude! She’s a Mudblood and everyone knows they don’t get enough nutrients!”

“Um,” Hermione said. “Please tell me there are no portraits in your bedroom.”

Malfoy had gone pink in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, there aren’t. I got all the frames in there removed ages ago. Despite their grumbling.”

“Good.”

He shifted awkwardly. “They’re nothing but canvas and paint. I hope you don’t take what they say too seriously.”

“I’m not sure.” She managed a smile. “Do you want to show me the rest of your manor? Or would you like to go to bed now?”

Her words made his demeanour change in an instant. A dark desire came over his face.

“Are you hungry?” he asked roughly, his gaze now burning.

“A little. But I think I would like to wait. Work up a bigger appetite.”

He grabbed her and swung her up into his arms. She squeaked and clung to his neck.

“This is all very gothic hero of you.”

“Is it working?” he said as he carried her up his grand staircase.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good,” he growled.

A dark corridor greeted them. Candlelight flickered at the far end. There was also more scurrying. Hermione couldn’t see, but she was sure the portraits were racing to follow them.

Malfoy carried her toward the candlelight. He turned into a grand bedroom. Then he kicked the door closed.

A chorus of groans erupted in the corridor.

“Your ancestors are rather nosy, aren’t they?” Hermione said.

“They are bored.” He eased her down.

She moved away to take in the room. It was a glorious bedroom. Soaring ceilings. Elegant furnishings. The windows were so massive that they had to have been magicked. They were accented by gothic stone arches. Snow fell in a steady stream just outside the glass.

There was also an impressive fireplace, its flames at a roar, its chimneypiece strewn with plump roses and overflowing garland. In fact, the entire room was festooned in satin ribbons and fragrant greenery.

She turned in a circle. “You decorated for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy said from the shadows. He was lingering away from her.

She eyed the intimidating bed, which had rose petals on the dark emerald duvet. “It’s all very sweet of you.”

“Speaking of sweets, did you see the trolleys along the wall?”

“No, not yet.” Her heels clicked on the gleaming wood as she crossed the room. Several silver trolleys were lined up. They contained steaming tea and sugary pastries and little sandwiches.

“Are these profiteroles?”

“Yes,” he said gruffly.

“What are these cork-shaped pastries?”

“They are called Canelés, I believe. They are made with dark rum.”

She looked in his direction. “You baked them yourself?”

He laughed quietly. “Oh, no. Of course not.”

“You have some sort of cook, then?”

“Something like that.” He moved closer, out of the shadows. There wasn’t much light in the room. It caused his expression to look beastly. His eyes shone with something otherworldly.

She inched back and back, wanting to be closer to the bed. He stalked forward.

“Are you ready for your surprise?” she said, smiling teasingly.

“Yes,” he snarled.

She unbuttoned her peacoat, taking her time. Then she drew it from her shoulders, letting it slip to the floor.

His mouth dropped open. He went very still. As if she’d cast Petrificus Totalus on him. Several seconds went by. She laughed a bit uneasily.

“Do you … like it?”

Moaning, he fell to his knees. His hands fisted the fabric on his thighs. He was panting.

She almost grabbed her coat from the floor. The effect she was having on him was rather alarming.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a small voice.

He didn’t respond. He continued his panting. There was a sheen on his chin. She realised he was drooling on himself.

“Malfoy. Please. You’re scaring me.”

“Come here,” he gasped.

Quivering, she moved closer. It felt almost as if she were Little Red Riding Hood willingly closing in on the Big Bad Wolf.

Then she was in reach of him. She quivered in her stilettos. He didn’t lunge for her. No, he was still not moving, but his hot gaze roamed over every inch of her.

“You’re glittering.”

She smiled in relief, glad that he was speaking again. “Yes, it’s my lotion. There’s glitter in it. The scent isn’t too overpowering for you? I believe it’s sandalwood and rose.”

“The only thing I can smell is your cunt,” he snarled.

She took a step back, which made him squeeze his eyes closed and bare his teeth.

“Apologies, my love. The moment is getting the better of me.”

“You seem rather … excited.”

He laughed hotly. He licked his lips and opened his eyes again. “Tell me what I’m looking at. Is that a garter belt?”

“Yes, it is. Do you like the red lace?”

Another hot laugh. “You have no idea.”

“Do you like the little red jewels? It’s got one on the belt and another one on the bra. The bust has scalloped embroidery. That’s what the ladies in the shop said.”

He moaned lowly. “Turn around for me.”

She did. He began panting again.

“Do you see the third jewel? It’s hanging from—”

“You’re wearing a—a—What do the bloody Muggles call it—?”

“A thong, baby.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

It was her turn to laugh heatedly. She tried to move away but he grabbed her hip.

“No, wait,” he growled. “I want to see your cute little arsehole.”

“Draco.”

“Be a good girl and show me. Please?”

“I’m not ready to take your knot in my arse. That’s not why I’m here.”

“No, of course not. I can’t impregnate you if I fuck your arse.”

“Damn you, no one is getting pregnant tonight! I took a potion.”

“Let me pretend, baby. Now show me your perfect little hole.”

Sighing, she eased aside the thong and held open her arse, utterly giving him a show.

He snarled. The sound was wet. He was probably drooling again.

“You’ve cast charms on yourself,” he said darkly. “All over yourself.”

“Grooming charms, yes.”

“Your arse is virtually sparkling. Your cunt is the same way, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip, still holding herself open. “I didn’t know how much hair to leave. I didn’t know your preference.”

He snorted shakily. “That’s like asking me if I’d like cream or jam on my scones. The answer is, Yes, please.”

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her face. “You can be so charming when you want to be.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He turned her around roughly, both hands now holding her.

There was a pause.

“I find I don’t know where to start,” he murmured. “My need for you is making me a bit touched.”

“You may do whatever you wish to me … within reason, of course.”

“I want to eat your cunt. I want you to ride my face.”

“Oh.”

He showed his teeth. “You like the sound of that, darling?”

She crawled into his lap to kiss him. Deeply. Hungrily. He moaned and buried a hand in her flowing curls.

They kissed and kissed, their tongues stroking together. He was throbbing between her thighs. Or perhaps she was just feeling her own cunt pulsing needily. The flimsy lace was doing nothing to hold back all her wet.

Rolling her hips, she captured his tongue and sucked on it. His moan sounded close to a whimper.

“Baby,” she whispered.

He shuddered. “Damn you for calling me that.”

“Do you not like it?”

“I might like it too much.”

“Oh,” she said, laughing a little. “Is there something else you’d like better?”

“How about Sir?”

This time, she laughed outright. “Let’s see how I feel once your knot is in me. I might be more willing then.”

“Yes, Hermione.” He eased down the straps on her bra, revealing her breasts. “Fuck me,” he murmured, holding them in his palms.

She squirmed. “Will you … put your mouth on them?”

“Of course.” He took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. His hand came down to pet her between the thighs as he did it. He moved over to the other breast, this time biting down gently.

She gasped and squirmed some more. Her nipples had never been terribly sensitive, but feeling his mouth and tongue on them made her quiver.

Moaning, he drew back just a little. “Fuck, you’re already so wet for me.”

“Please, Draco.”

He eased aside her knickers so his fingers could slip between her lips. He stroked her slowly, making her gasp again. Then he brought his slick fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean.

“Draco.”

He moaned again. “You taste so fucking good, darling. You have no idea. I dream of the way you taste and it makes me come.”

“Really?” she asked shakily.

“Really.”

He laid back, right on the floor. He looked at her expectantly, his hair fanned out around his shoulders. “Hop aboard.”

“Don’t say it like that! You’re embarrassing me.”

He grinned toothily, but then went serious. “Can I feel up your arsehole when my tongue is inside you? I promise to keep everything clean.”

She squirmed again. “Okay … but don’t get any ideas. I’ll end our evening if you go against my wishes.”

“You can trust me,” he said seriously.

Taking a deep breath, she crawled forward—and forward. She straddled his head awkwardly. “I—I don’t know how to do this. I’m out of practice.”

“There’s nothing you need to do,” he murmured, urging her down. Then he opened his mouth to her cunt—her very open cunt. She felt how she drained down his chin.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, her hands burying in his hair, needing purchase.

He licked her and licked her. The position allowed his tongue to penetrate her cunt so deeply.

She cried out and thrust down. He moaned wetly, the sound muffled.

Not thinking, spurred on by utter need, she began to ride his face. It only made him moan even deeper.

His mouth felt so, so good, his hot tongue stroking her. It almost felt like a cock was inside her, massaging her. She squeezed around him.

Distantly, she felt when he began to wank himself through his trousers. His breath sped up.

“Can you breathe?” she murmured.

He nodded desperately. He paused to wrap his lips around her clit and suck it.

The sensation made her cry out and thrust down. She was trembling so nicely for him.

Then his fingers found her arsehole. They petted her slowly. It made both of them moan.

“God, God,” she cried, riding his mouth again. “You’re making me come.”

He sucked hard on her clit as his fingers pressed inside—just a little.

“Draco,” she gasped, hitting her peak. She rode him hard, utterly using his mouth. Even though she was orgasming, her cunt felt so empty as it happened. She needed to be filled.

After she calmed down, she got rather inelegantly to her feet. Somehow, she had lost a stiletto, so she just kicked off the remaining one.

Malfoy stood as well. His trousers were tented. And his mouth looked used.

She pulled him down into a kiss, pressing herself against him, feeling just how hard he was for her.

She was so aroused that she didn’t mind the taste of her own cunt on his lips.

“I want you to fist me,” she whispered into the kiss. “Get me nice and stretched for your knot.”

Her words made him waver. “Fuck.”

“Would you like that?” she whispered.

He nodded, looking a bit dazed.

Chapter Text

Malfoy carried her to the bed and laid her down carefully on the velvety rose petals. Then, staring her down, he began to undo his waistcoat. She popped up to help him, and together, they got his waistcoat and shirt off.

His hands were shaking. It was both sweet and arousing. She just affected him so much.

Before he could tear down his trousers, she cupped him through the fabric. His cock and balls felt so heavy.

She looked up, her hand still cupping him. “Do you have lubricant?”

He managed a smirk, even though his eyes were still dazed. “Of course.”

“Good,” she said, now nuzzling him through his trousers. Then: “Will you let me suck you?”

His growl came from deep in his chest. “Yes, but only a little. And I want to control most of it.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair. “I do believe you are a brat.”

Biting her lip, she began to undo his trousers, working them down. Then she got his underpants down, revealing his glorious cock. It twitched as she looked at it.

She wrapped a hand around him, stroking slowly. “You’re already so wet for me,” she murmured, saying his words back to him.

He growled again. His hand tightened in her hair. “Don’t tease me.”

“Of course not,” she murmured, leaning in. Instead of licking his shaft, she wrapped her mouth around one of his balls, sucking it.

A hard shudder went through him. He moaned.

She pulled at it with her mouth, indeed teasing him, but it still made his thighs tremble. He liked getting his stones sucked on.

Then she turned her attention to the other one, rolling it on her tongue, sucking it. She leaned back to whisper, “They’re almost too big for my mouth.”

He groaned deeply.

She caught his gaze, which was now dark and lidded. He looked intoxicated.

Not looking away, she dragged her tongue up his thick shaft. She licked at the sensitive underside, just beneath his crown. It made him bare his teeth at her again, more saliva escaping past his lips.

“You taste so good,” she purred.

“Suck me, damn you.”

“Right away, sir,” she said, giving him a sarcastic salute.

“Brat,” he hissed, but the sound was cut off when she wrapped her lips around his tip.

She moved her mouth on him like he was a lolly. So much precome flooded her tongue. It was delicious. Arousing. She sneaked a hand down to rub herself.

“Enough,” he growled, and he used his hold to force her down and to the side. He buried his left hand in her hair and slapped her fingers away with his other.

He rubbed her clit as he fucked her mouth. She cried out, her mouth so full.

“Enough of your games,” he continued. “My knot is throbbing for your cunt. My whole fucking being is. I’ve held myself back long enough, haven’t I? Haven’t I?”

She nodded desperately.

“Good, now open your throat.”

He thrust hard and deep, choking her. His tip indeed breached her throat. It made tears slip down her cheeks.

“That’s it, be a good girl for me,” he said darkly.

Oh my God. Her eyes rolled back.

He meant to unravel her. Completely. Destroy her. He had been holding himself back. The entire time. She had never slept with someone like him. Yes, Charlie had been dominant, but he’d also been goofy. Carefree. And Ron—Well. They had both been so young. Ron had barely known what to do with his prick.

Malfoy was different. He was beastly. And his massive cock was currently brutalising her throat.

She let out a muffled sob. She was shuddering hard. His fingers were relentless on her clit.

“Hush,” he whispered, just screwing in deeper. Then he easily sank two fingers into her, curling up, massaging. He knew exactly what he was doing.

She cried louder, writhing a little. He cursed and eased back. Her saliva dripped from his cock.

“I shouldn’t have worn mascara,” she croaked.

He grabbed her by the throat and eased her back. “Is this okay?” he said. “Do you like it?”

She nodded desperately.

He withdrew from her cunt, then called out, “Accio Draco Malfoy’s lubricant!”

She almost laughed. He tightened his fingers in response.

A bottle dropped onto the bed beside them. Using a spell, he got his free hand utterly covered in the clear mixture. It wasn’t the hand he’d used to touch her bum.

“Tell me if you need more,” he said, then eased three fingers into her.

She arched into the penetration, her breasts heaving.

He choked her as he fucked her with those fingers. He made sure to rub that spot inside her, over and over.

“Are you ready for more?” he cooed.

Another desperate nod.

He squeezed in a fourth, then added his thumb for good measure. He screwed into her slowly, carefully.

“Oh God,” she cried out.

“Hush, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He screwed even deeper. Then, when damn near his entire hand was inside her, he began to fuck her with it.

She screamed—or tried to. He choked her harder, stealing her breath.

“Hush, damn you,” he whispered. “I want you to listen to me.”

Tears were on her face again. “Yes, Draco.”

He continued, his voice sounding reverent: “Do you feel how I’m getting you ready for me? Your perfect cunt. You’ll be gaping by the time I’m done with you. You’ll be so open that I wonder if you’ll even feel my knot.”

“DRACO!”

“Shut up,” he hissed, quickening the movement of his hand.

“You’re going to make me squirt,” she sobbed. She recognised the feeling. The pressure. Her cunt wanted to squirt for him.

“Then do it, my love. Show me what a dirty girl you can be. Do it.”

Her mouth dropped open. She heaved again, doing her best to fuck herself on his hand. He screwed into her, his knuckles massaging her, making her ache. She squeezed desperately. She was too full to come. There was too much pressure. But she needed the release. Her cunt needed it, needed it, needed it—

Her whole body contracted. Hot feeling overtook her. She was orgasming, but not. Then she felt herself release a flood of liquid. It seemed to gush. There was so much of it that it pooled. The sensation made her scream.

“That’s it, my dirty girl,” he moaned.

He eased his hand from her and bent down to lick up what he could. He seemed to be sucking some of it off the duvet.

She was sobbing again. She was desperate, so desperate. “Please,” she said tearfully, pulling at his hair. “Please, please. Get inside me. I need it. I need to come.” Squirting had always left her so wound up, so unfulfilled.

“Yes, yes,” he groaned, shaking. He yanked his trousers and pants fully off.

Malfoy got into position between her thighs. He tried to shove her thong to the side, really making room for himself, but the fabric was still a bit in the way.

Cursing, he tore the entire thing off her, even ripping her garter belt. She was too worked up to care.

“I’ll mend them later,” he growled.

Then he pushed inside her. She gasped and clutched his shoulders.

He didn’t stop. He pressed and pressed until he was fully sheathed. She felt his heavy sac. She also felt his knot. It was almost inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned.

She mewled. She dug her nails into him. “More,” she whispered.

Snarling, he grabbed her hips. Hard. Possessively. He held her down as he began to pound into her.

She cried against his throat, needing him closer. His skin smelled so good. Every part of him did.

“Draco,” she whispered.

He was crying, too. He was shuddering. “I’m going to babble. Spill my bloody guts out.”

“Do it.”

He grabbed her throat again, pinning her down. She was forced to release his shoulders.

Tears shone in his beastly eyes. The grey looked black. They gleamed. “I fucking love you,” he snarled.

“DRACO!”

“No, shut up. I love you. I’ve had for years. For too long. Ever since I became a fucking dog. A dog desperate for its scraps. Desperate for a place to call home. I needed you, I needed you. But how was I supposed to explain? How was I supposed to trust you? With my heart. Because you were Potter’s. You were you and I was me. And I was nothing but an animal. Debased. Dirty. Popping a fucking knot every time I even thought about knocking on your door.”

“Draco, please,” she sobbed.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. It brought their bodies closer. It allowed him to really pound her. Over and over. His balls slapped.

She felt his drool on her face. She felt his knot, now inside her but not swollen enough to lock them in place. Not yet.

“Do you hear what I’m saying to you?” he snarled. “You’re mine. Forever. And when I’ve finally come inside you—when the wolf has finally come inside you—I’m going to own you. We both are.”

“Draco, Draco!”

He slammed forward one last time. He began to empty himself. She felt the throb of him so deeply. And she felt his knot expand, making her ache, utterly testing the limits of her cunt.

Her eyes rolled back. Her mouth dropped open. It was true. He did own her now. Somehow, his knot made her feel completed.

He was making beastly noises as he came. He was also crying. “Hermione,” he gasped tearfully.

It took Malfoy a long time to calm down. His knot was still too swollen for him to withdraw, but he could move his hips.

He kissed her as his thumb found her clit. He thrust a little, ruining her cunt even more. “I want you to come for me,” he whispered against her mouth.

She writhed, kicking her legs. She was so full. So, so full. And his seed was dripping out of her.

He continued to stroke her. He thrust a little harder. “Now, baby. Come for me. Come on my knot.”

Her body didn’t even give her the choice. She felt captured by the pleasure. Her orgasm ached, especially as she tightened up around his fat base.

“That’s it,” he cooed, still tearful. “Good girl, good girl.”

She fell asleep with him still buried inside her. When she woke up, the fire was low on the hearth and the night was pitch black outside. Several hours had passed, she could tell.

Draco loomed over her. His hair fell in tangles around his face. “I need you again,” he whispered.

She sighed and spread her thighs for him. He mounted her, hands wrapped around her waist. He used her, over and over. She was barely awake for it. Then he turned her over and used her from behind, too.

She dozed with her face pressed to a pillow, breathing in his scent. He panted loudly, chasing his release mindlessly. Her cunt was so open for him.

When he knotted her for a second time, her eyes snapped open and she whimpered. She was sore now. The stretch hurt.

“Tomorrow, I’ll heal you,” he whispered hotly, dropping a kiss to her throat. He held her so close as his knot throbbed in her cunt.

Once again, she fell asleep with him buried inside her. She felt so content, so safe. So owned.

Her last sleepy thought was, I wish I hadn’t taken the potion.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Hermione woke up in need of a desperate bath. She was also aching all over. Beside her, Draco was snoring. He had certainly exhausted himself last night.

She slipped from bed and looked for an en suite door. She was relieved when she found one. She didn’t fancy the idea of facing those portraits at the moment.

The bathroom was just as cavernous as the bedroom. It had a gigantic stone bathtub. That was rather promising. She did like a bathtime shag.

After relieving herself, Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dear God. She looked thrashed. Her mascara bled down her face. Her hair was all tangled. And there were fingermarks on her throat. Bruises.

Well, then.

A part of her was surprised Draco hadn’t sunk his teeth into her. But perhaps that was coming later.

She left the mirror to turn on the bathtub’s tabs. She filled it up with steamy water and added a few potions she found. Yes, that would help ease her ache.

Then she eased down into the water and had herself a long, comforting soak. Her nether regions really needed it. Merlin, was she sore.

About twenty minutes later, Draco burst into the bathroom, startling her.

“Sorry,” he gasped.

“What’s the matter?!”

“No, sorry. I woke up and found you gone, and I just panicked.”

“Couldn’t you smell me in here?”

“I smell you everywhere right now.”

“Oh.”

Calming down, Draco stalked to the toilet. He had himself a piss. For some reason, she watched him do it.

“Are you enjoying the show?” he growled.

“You could have closed the door. Used another toilet, even.”

“Yes, I could have.” He finished with a few shakes, then pulled the old timey chain to flush. Instead of going to the sink, he headed for the tub. “Can I join you?”

It was difficult to look at him full on. She turned shy.

“Of course,” she murmured.

He stepped into the hot water with a groan. She inched away, keeping her gaze down. He was just so big. And he’d left bruises on her.

He watched her in silence for a long moment. “Last night frightened you, didn’t it?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I just feel … I don’t know. Intimidated by your presence.”

“And why’s that?”

She stared down at the water. Her face was flushed from the steam, but she was also blushing. “You destroyed me last night.”

“Destroyed … you …?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck me, that doesn’t sound good. Is this you breaking up with me?”

Her gaze snapped to his face. “No! No. I’m just … overwhelmed, I guess. But not in a bad way. And I guess I am scared—but not of you. Not really. You so easily command me. And giving up that much control scares me. That’s all.”

He continued to watch her. “What I feel for you is a lot. I understand. And maybe I should have kept some of it back. I should have properly fucked you a few times before really letting myself lose control. But, last night, you brought me to my knees. Literally.”

“Oh, Draco,” she whispered, closing the space between them. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. It made him moan softly. Grimacing, she pulled away. “Ugh, your mouth still tastes of sex.”

“Yeah it does,” he said huskily.

Shaking her head, she Summoned her wand to cast a Refreshment Charm on their mouths. Then she kissed him again, and again. They snogged deeply. She found herself straddling him. And she felt his cock waking up.

“Already want more?” he murmured.

“Not really,” she whispered. “Too sore. Too used.”

He bared his teeth. “I still need to cast my Healing Spells on you. Then we can—”

There was a loud pop. A house-elf had suddenly appeared.

“Does Master need—”

Gasping, Hermione jumped out of Draco’s arms and grabbed for a towel to cover herself up.

Draco jumped up, too. “Pitts, damn you, go away!”

“Apologies, Master! Pitts will go now!” The elf disappeared.

Hermione gaped at him. “You still have house-elves?!”

“Fucking hell. Let me explain.”

“HOUSE-ELVES!” Hermione cried. “You know they’re virtually illegal now, right?”

“They aren’t illegal! They are just able to be free. Unfortunately, Pitts and the rest of his family don’t want their freedom—”

“THERE ARE OTHERS?!”

“Yes …”

She gaped at him in horror. “You are keeping little slaves in your house. That’s what you are doing. And you expect me to be your mate! I can’t believe this.”

She jumped out of the bathtub and raced for the bedroom. She needed to find the bag of clothes, she needed to get dressed, and leave—

Draco charged after her and caught her from behind. He forced her to face him. “Listen to me, damn you!”

“I THOUGHT YOU KNEW ME! How could you have house-elves and still court me?! How could you think I would be okay with it?!”

“I didn’t have any other choice!” he roared.

“Right. Right. Because you didn’t choose me. The wolf did.”

He gaped at her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“So, I misunderstood you? Is that it?”

“Yes,” he growled. His expression was so fierce.

She gulped. “Okay. Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that Pitts gave me no choice. He refuses to leave. His whole family does. House-elves gaining their freedom isn’t so simple, you know. Some of them like serving wizards.”

“Bollocks!”

He tightened his hold on her. “It’s true, damn you. I’ll let you ask Pitts yourself.”

She shook her head, now calming down. She slumped against him. “Oh, Draco. I have no idea who you are. Not really.”

He caressed her hair. “You know me, Hermione. You’ve known me since we were eleven years old.”

“No, no, that’s not actually knowing you. I don’t know what makes you happy. What you like to do for fun. What your morals are.”

“You make me happy. For what I like to do for fun … Well, I showed you last night.”

She sighed heavily and pulled away. He released her. “I think I need to go home now.”

“No, don’t. Not yet.” He was a bit panicked. “I have a whole day planned out for us. And I’ve got you presents. Loads of them. I want to celebrate Christmas with you.”

She eyed him. “Do you promise to open up to me? Do you promise to let me see the real you?”

“I have been opening up to you.”

“Have you? I’m not so sure.”

“Spend the day with me. Please. Then you can judge me properly.”

“All right,” she said softly.

Chapter Text

Hermione let Draco cast his Healing Spells on her, taking away her ache, but she barred him from returning to the bathroom with her.

“I want to wash up by myself,” she said.

He frowned but nodded. “All right. I’ll have my servants lay some clothes out for you on the bed.”

“You mean your slaves?” She couldn’t help herself.

He sighed deeply. “I’ll be waiting for you in the drawing room. Come down at your leisure.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, and walked away without explaining.

Hermione took her time with her bath. She was trying to sort out her feelings. Or at least find a way to be at temporary peace with them.

Draco seemed to represent everything she was against. He was part of the elite. He had a rather prejudiced past. He had the Dark Mark on his arm, even though she had barely paid it any attention. It was difficult to focus on his forearm when he was naked. Gloriously naked.

He seemed to be rude, and caustic. Well, he was mostly rude and caustic with Harry, but perhaps Harry was just one of many whom he treated in such a way. And he had house-elves. Even after the Wizengamot had passed the Domestic Elven Freedom Act.

At Hogwarts, everyone had known of Hermione’s feelings on house-elves. People had made fun of her for it. Yes, her investment in their emancipation had been a bit naive, a bit zealous, but Draco would have known about it. He would have. And he should have come clean about still owning them. It felt like a betrayal that he hadn’t. It felt as if he meant to pull the wool over her eyes.

What am I even doing here? she thought, distraught.

Just a month ago, she had been living her life happily, utterly not thinking about Draco Malfoy. She had barely even remembered he existed. And now she was sitting in his grand bathtub … in his house where she had been tortured. And she had let him knot her. If they weren’t careful, he would get her pregnant.

Dear God, I need to go home, I need to go home …

Gulping back her panic, she finished up her bath and wrapped herself in a thick layer of towels. Using her wand, she dried and combed her hair, though the strands still turned a bit frizzy.

Then she went back into the bedroom. Her feet halted.

On the bed were three gorgeous dresses. One was scarlet, the other was emerald, and the last one was lapis. She couldn’t help but gap at them. All three had tulle petticoats.

She turned away from the bed and found her bag. She dressed to leave. And for comfort. She put on an oversized jumper and comfy trousers and big fluffy socks. Her boots were in the bag. She would just need to put them on and sneak out the door … She could leave without Draco even knowing about it …

She dropped the bag and left the bedroom. She walked without much direction, not knowing where the drawing room was. On the walls the portraits were muttering to themselves.

“The girl looks a bit frumpy, doesn’t she?”

“What is she wearing on her feet? Fur?”

“I don’t think the young lady even combed her hair. Surely she isn’t good enough for our heir?”

She marched on, keeping her chin held up. She did her best not to feel humiliated.

She followed the sound of pacing footsteps. Someone was rather anxious in the room on her right.

In that room was a pacing Draco, head down, hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a waistcoat again. And he was in the sleekest trousers she had ever seen. His hair gleamed in the firelight. Someone had obviously cleaned and styled it for him. Probably his little slaves.

He halted when he saw her. Several emotions crossed his face. Relief. Anxiety. Disappointment.

“Did you not like the dresses?” he asked roughly.

She wanted to flee. She did. Instead, she walked up to him and yanked him down into a deep kiss. A desperate kiss. It turned white-hot in a split second.

He ripped away with a gasp. “Damn you, I just put on clean underpants.”

She buried her fists in his stupid waistcoat. She yanked the expensive fabric. “You should have told me about the elves.”

“I’m sorry. Truly. I wasn’t thinking. I—”

“And the dresses are too much.” She yanked some more on him. “This waistcoat is too much.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It makes me feel like a street urchin! Like bloody Oliver Twist.”

He laughed. “No, you’d be Nancy, I think. Noble. Full of proper morals. Protective.”

She released him. “You’ve read Charles Dickens?”

“Yes, darling.”

She shook her head in amazement. “You read Muggle literature?”

“Yes.”

“That’s … rather shocking.”

He gave her a wink and brought a finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s a secret.”

She stared up at him. He was trying to be charming. Rather so. And he was succeeding. “You need to talk to your portraits,” she said, finally dragging her gaze away. “One of them just called me frumpy.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. They are all bastards. And overly protective of me. I’ll threaten to Incendio them if they don’t stop.”

“Good. Thank you.”

He took her hand in his. He stared deeply into her eyes. “You must be famished. I know I am.”

“No, I stuffed myself on Canelés upstairs.”

His expression fell. “Really?”

“No, not really.”

He squinted at her. “More of your games, I see.”

“Yes, Mr Rochester.”

He frowned again. “This seems like a rather good time to ask if you are into spanking or not.”

She blinked innocently. “You want to spank me … Heathcliff?”

He rolled his eyes as he still held her hand. “I’ve read those novels, you do realise. But don’t let me stop you from taking the piss.”

“Which novel did you like better?”

“Jane Eyre, obviously. Wuthering Heights reads like a fever dream. A rather annoying one.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I agree.”

“Let’s go into the dining room. Our lunch will be served in there.” He guided her across the corridor into a room with high ceilings.

“This is where the meetings were held, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said gruffly. “But I’ve changed virtually everything since then.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she said, taking in the bright colours, the cherry wood. Magicked sunlight streamed in through towering windows.

The enormous table was set for two people, one on either end. Draco helped her into one chair, before taking up the other one.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, the entire table yawning between them.

Using her wand, she sent her place setting to the chair next to his and moved to sit on his left.

“What are you doing?” he said, smiling in confusion.

“I want to be close to you,” she said, scooting in her chair.

He was still frowning. “I’ve always imagined you sitting at the other end. Like my mother used to.”

“I’m not your mother, Draco.”

He bared his teeth a little. “I know that.”

“Don’t you want to be close to me?”

“Yes, I do.”

She smiled. “Good.”

He relaxed in his chair. He grabbed her hand again, giving it a squeeze. “I’m just so happy that you are here. In my house. I’ve—I’ve wanted this for so long.”

She flushed. “I want to make you happy, Draco.”

“Do you, now?” he murmured.

“Yes, I thought I made that perfectly clear last night.”

His expression went hot. “Don’t bring up last night. Unless you wish to be bent over this table and mounted.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad …”

Groaning softly, he eased his hand away. Then: “Pitts, we’re ready!” he called.

The house-elf popped into existence. So did several others.

“Very good, Master!” said Pitts as he began to pour them a sparkling wine.

Hermione grew uncomfortable. “Do they need to serve us?” she whispered. “I can do it myself.”

Pitts nearly dropped his silver tray of hors d'oeuvre. He gave her a filthy look.

Draco squirmed a bit. “Look, Hermione. I know you don’t appreciate it, but, really, it makes him happy.”

Still glaring at her, Pitts plopped down salmon tartare onto her plate. A bit of it splattered onto her jumper.

“Pitts, you must be more careful,” growled Draco.

“Yes, Master,” said the elf, neatly serving him his tartare.

Hermione smiled at the elf, ignoring his hostility. “Pitts, sir, do you actually like working in this manor?”

The elf looked at Draco. “Why is Master’s Mudblood asking Pitts rude questions? Pitts is only trying to do Pitts’ job, sir.”

Draco sighed. “Answer her, please. It would be very helpful to me. And don’t call her a Mudblood.”

“Of course Pitts likes working in the Manor. It is what Pitts was born to do.”

“Don’t you want your freedom, though? What about the rest of your family?”

“Pitts’ family feels just as Pitts does. House-elves are meant to serve witches and wizards. It’s the natural order of things.”

She scrutinised his little face. “Are you just saying that because Master is present?”

The elf sent her another dark look and didn’t say anything. He gave her the two hard ends of the loaf to eat with her salmon.

“Pitts,” Draco growled. “Answer her question.”

“No, it’s okay,” Hermione said quickly. “There’s no need to interrogate him at the moment.”

“Fine.”

They were silent as they enjoyed their tartare. It was very good. The wine was bright and bubbly on her tongue.

Hermione reached over to hold Draco’s free hand. She gave it a squeeze. “This is lovely.”

“You’re enjoying yourself? Despite Pitts?” His voice was rough.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry my elves are rude to you. I’ll talk to them, too.”

She nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to talk about you.”

“Oh, bother,” he grumbled.

It was like their first date all over again. For some reason, Draco hated talking about himself.

“What was Astoria like? The woman you were engaged to?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“What? Come on, tell me.”

Draco glowered at her a bit. “Astoria was hot.”

Hermione smiled brightly. “What made her hot?”

“Her tits. The way she wore dresses. The way she spoke French.”

“Wow, that does sound rather attractive. Were you in love with her?”

“Were you in love with Charlie Weasley?” he snapped.

“Yes, I was.”

His glower smoldered. “Why didn’t you marry him?”

She shrugged. “We were engaged. I fully expected to. But then he was offered a job in Romania and took it. He took it even though he knew I didn’t want to live in Romania—that I couldn’t live there.”

“It sounds like you two didn’t love each other enough.”

It hurt to hear it, even years later.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she mumbled, looking down at her plate.

“I wouldn’t move to bloody Romania. No matter how hard dragons made me.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. She giggled.

Pitts served the main course then, which was a fragrant fish stew. He also topped off their wine.

“Yum, is this sea bass?” Hermione asked.

“I think so.”

She ate a few spoonfuls. “The white wine really makes the dish.”

“Yes.”

“So, Astoria left you because you became an Auror?”

His cutlery clattered to the table. “Must we talk about this?”

“I’m just trying to understand your past.”

“Yes, she left me. Men like me usually don’t have professions. She was already taking a big risk due to the Mark on my arm. Me becoming a working man was the straw that broke the Hippogriff’s back.”

“I see,” she said, pondering. “I like that you gave up so much to become an Auror. To make a difference in the world. To fight crime and such.”

He watched her. “I became an Auror because it was a challenge. I also wanted to be defiant. Especially to my father.”

“He found it offensive or something?”

“Of course he did. Both of my parents did.”

She hesitated. “I’m sorry they passed. Really.”

He sighed again. “I miss them. Especially Mother.”

“I miss my parents, too. They aren’t dead, though. They just live in Australia.”

He nodded.

There was a pause in conversation as they continued to eat. The stew was so good that Hermione wanted to suck on her spoon.

“What are your favourite moments from your job? What has made you the happiest?”

“I feel like I’m being interviewed by the Prophet.”

“Please answer my question.”

He licked his lips as he considered it. A smirk came over his face. “The truth? Every time I bested Potter. Everything I saved his sorry arse.”

“You’ve saved him? He’s never mentioned it to me.”

“Of course he hasn’t. He’s hated when I saved him. I’ve fucking loved it.”

“Like you’ve jumped in front of Curses? You disarmed a criminal before they could attack Harry?”

“Yes. exactly.”

“Wow,” she said. “That’s so hot.”

He growled a little. “I’m glad you think so.”

“What are you looking for in a wife?”

“Whatever you are.”

“Draco, be serious. What sort of woman would you love to be married to?”

“You.”

“You’re not taking my question seriously.”

He dropped his gaze. “I’ve ached for you for so long. It’s difficult to remember what I wanted before I became a werewolf.”

“Try, please.”

He hesitated, then said, “I wanted a wife who was intelligent. And confident. And hot as fuck. I wanted a wife who’d let me come on her face but also someone who could command a room. Easily. Effortlessly. Someone with charisma. Did I already mention brilliant tits?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t command a room.”

“I think you could. If you tried.”

“I don’t think I’d want to try.”

He sighed. “You shouldn’t have asked me that question. I want you as my wife. As my mate. As the mother of my children. You want children, don’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled. “Good.”

They finished their meal by enjoying buttery scones with jam, then Draco took her hand and guided her to a room she hadn’t seen before. Inside was the biggest Christmas tree she had ever seen. Under the tree was a mountain of presents.

“They are all for you,” he whispered.

“What? The presents?”

“Yes.”

She kissed him, making him lean down again. “It’s too much,” she murmured against his lips.

“Nothing is too much for you. I’d give you the entire world if you’d let me.”

“I don’t need the entire world, Draco. I just need a man who treats me right.”

“I will always treat you right. No matter what.”

“You mustn’t keep things from me just because it would make me cross. I deserve the truth.”

“Yes, Hermione.”

She kissed him again. “I’ll open just one present. For now. Perhaps you can save the others for another time.”

“Okay.”

Leaving his arms, she knelt before the glittery tree and plucked an elegant box from beneath the branches. Inside the box was a leatherbound journal with very expensive pages.

“It’s dragonhide,” Draco murmured. “And the pages are smearproof.”

“Is it for my brewing notes?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Oh, Draco. I love it! Thank you!”

He beamed, his scars gleaming in the treelight.

Chapter Text

After Hermione and Draco spent some time lounging in front of the Christmas tree, Draco smiled shyly at her.

“Will you go flying with me?” he asked, not exactly looking at her.

She blinked. “But it’s snowing.”

“No, the clouds went away. The sun is out now. It’s still cold outside, of course, but—Well. You said you wanted to learn more about my hobbies. And I like flying.”

“Oh.” She gulped. “Um.”

He took her hand. “Do you not enjoy it?”

“I do it when I must, but I make sure to go extra slow. It’s not really my idea of fun.” She didn’t see it, but she was pretty sure Draco’s expression dropped.

“Oh,” he said.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Let’s try it. I do want to experience it with you. Experience what brings you joy.”

Very gently, he eased her chin up so she looked at him. He was beaming. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her lips.

She squirmed. “Even though I don’t like your house-elves?”

“You have strong convictions. And a backbone. And it makes my dick throb to see anger flash across your pretty little face.”

“My … pretty … little … face …”

“Yes, darling.”

She thought about it. “Did you think I was pretty when we were at Hogwarts together?”

For some reason, Draco looked a bit unsettled. “I hated you,” he said after a moment.

“Well, I know that.”

“And you were always besting me in our lessons.”

She smirked. “Yep.”

“And you were a … Well. I won’t say it.”

“I was a Mudblood.”

“Yes.”

She inspected him, trying to read his expression. “You could have still thought I was pretty, despite all that.”

“I didn’t want to think you were pretty. You were annoying. And your two best mates were boys. Who you were probably fucking. You were probably being a little slut for them.”

She laughed, caught off guard. “You thought about this?”

“Of course,” he growled.

“You thought about me shagging Harry and Ron? My best friends?”

“Oh, yes. A lot. I thought it would be so easy for you lot to sneak off to do it. You seemed to know all the secrets of the castle. You found the Chamber of Secrets, for fuck’s sake.”

She just stared at him, trying not to laugh again, so bewildered. “So, you sat in class and thought about Harry and Ron Eiffel Towering me in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Well, not there, per se. The basilisk would have gobbled you up for being Muggle-born.”

She snorted loudly. “So, where then? The Shrieking Shack?”

“Yeah. And the Forbidden Forest, of course.”

“The Forest?! Was Hagrid there, too? What about Fang?”

He bared his teeth at her. “Don’t make a joke of it. You asked me a question and I respected you enough to give you my honest answer.”

Smirking, she leaned in to drop a kiss to the delicate point on his nose. “It sounds like you had a crush.”

He turned contemplative. “Yes, I suppose I did, but I didn’t recognise it as such. I was so different back then. It’s difficult to really remember. I think I was fascinated by you. And disgusted. And turned-on. You were everything I wasn’t, but not. We were both swots, even though I did my best to hide it. We both liked brewing. We both had a hunger for learning, I think. But I hated you. How your hand shot up after every question. How you were so eager to lick the shoes of every single professor. Even Snape. Who also hated you. You were just so desperate for people to know how clever you were.”

She bit her lip. “I was annoying, I’ll admit it. I—I had a chip on my shoulder. Everyone needed to know my brilliance. Everyone needed to know how hard I worked.”

He took her into his arms and kissed her. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not right now. I want to go flying.”

“Okay,” she said.

A few minutes later, Hermione and Draco were in a rather large shed, which contained countless expensive brooms and Quidditch equipment.

Hermione was wearing a coat she didn’t own. Also a scarf and gloves. Draco took a moment to make sure her coat was buttoned up properly, that her scarf was tight enough around her neck, and that the rather bulky gloves weren’t too loose.

“May I put your hair up?” he murmured.

She nodded, now a bit flushed.

Using a spell, he pulled her hair back in a tight bun. He’d done the same for himself.

“You’re taking care of me,” she said.

“Of course.” He kissed her temple and moved away to examine the brooms.

“Can you pick your slowest? I don’t fancy the idea of shooting through the sky right now.”

He laughed. “Yes, I know just the one. A Cleansweep, the Star Gazer model. Its shaft is spacious and its top speed is pitiful.”

“I like a spacious shaft.”

He grinned at her and grabbed the room.

Outside, the snow glittered like diamonds beneath the weak sunlight. Draco, his cheeks flushed, straddled the broom and urged her to do the same.

Hermione hesitated. She was putting a lot of faith in Draco by jumping on a broom with him. And she wouldn’t even be the one steering.

“Come on,” he said softly. “I promise to keep you safe.”

She nodded and got onto the broom, too. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed her back against his firm chest, then he kicked off. She gasped and clung to the broom. Because she wasn’t the one managing their speed, it felt as if they shot up into the sky.

Draco took them up and up, then he paused to let her get comfortable. It was breathtaking to see his lands sprawled out in every direction.

“You own all of this, don’t you?” she murmured.

“Yes.”

“How do you keep it running? You seem entirely focussed on your Auror career.”

“With help from the house-elves. Also other landowners in the area. There are no tenants on the land anymore. No farming happening. There are magical creatures in the area, though. I like knowing they are taking advantage of what I own.”

“Wow,” she said, not really knowing how else to respond. It was all so different from her own life.

His arm tightened around her. His breath was hot on her neck. “You don’t need to concern yourself with it if you don’t want to. I’ve needed to downsize for a while now. I just haven’t been able to do it.”

“Your land brings you a lot of joy, then?”

“Yes. Sort of. I feel an obligation. I believe I’m the tenth heir to own it.”

“Wow.”

Draco moved them forward. They glided through the icy air. Hermione shuddered and snuggled in closer.

Draco rested his hand between her thighs, right on her cunt. His gloves were thin and she felt the heat of his palm.

“Hey,” she said.

“What?”

“You know what.”

He pressed down a little, his fingers petting. “Do you not like it?”

“I want you to focus on flying!”

“Don’t worry; I can do both.”

She sighed but let him continue. The heat of him felt really nice.

Up ahead were a herd of deer-like animals. They moved about the snowy ground like a dripping mud splatter. Their fur was very dark.

“What are they?” Hermione said.

Draco slowed their broom and went lower. “They are magical reindeer. Some of them can even fly. And some of their noses light up, too.”

She twisted around to frown at him. “You’re taking the piss. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

He shrugged. “Hagrid didn’t know of every creature, did he? The oaf.”

“Oi, no bad-mouthing Hagrid! He’s a gentle soul!”

Draco laughed and went lower, to the point their feet almost brushed the ground. Hermione leaned in and, sure enough, spotted wings on some of their flanks. She also spotted a hazy light that flickered at the end of some noses.

“Incredible!” she exclaimed.

“Let’s head toward the forest,” he murmured, his hand still on her cunt.

“Okay.”

It took them about five minutes to reach the forest. He urged her back so much that her bum was nearly in his lap. And he was hard now.

“Merlin, you’re naughty.”

He laughed again, a bit breathless this time. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Perhaps …”

They made it to the forest, where Draco guided them beneath the branches. It was colder here, and more shadowy. Their breath turned smoky as Draco brought the broom to a stop, hovering above the ground.

Draco urged her into a deep, filthy kiss. She rubbed herself back on him. He moaned and sneaked a gloved hand beneath her coat and jumper to cup her breast through her bra.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

“I want to fuck you. Here. In the snow.”

She shuddered. “Sounds dirty.”

“Exactly.” He kissed her again. “Are you into it?”

“Yes …”

Groaning, Draco shoved up her bra so he could grope her properly, two gloved fingers tweaking her nipple. He ground his palm against her cunt as he did it.

“Fuck,” she gasped.

He kissed her again and again. She was getting so wet for him.

They went to the snowy floor. Hermione barely got her footing before Draco took her to the ground, on her hands and knees. He shoved up her coat and jumper, and yanked down her trousers and knickers.

Then he entered her. Hard. Desperately.

She cried out, shocked by the rushed penetration. She thought he’d pet her more or even get his mouth on her first, but no. Not this time.

He held her down as he used her, over and over. Everything was so cold except where they were connected. Their flesh was burning hot there.

“Fuck, I love seeing you in my house, in my dining room, eating and laughing like you live there. I love it, I love it …”

“Oh, God, Draco,” she gasped, her gloves curling into the muddy snow. Then she felt his forming knot, and she remembered herself. “Wait! Don’t come inside me!”

“Why the fuck not?” he growled, his thrusts not slowing.

“I didn’t take my potion today—It’s too risky—please—”

“Let me come on your arse then. Please, please. Let me eat it off you. Eat your arse.”

“God, Draco, I didn’t prepare—I’m not—”

“I don’t care about that,” he snarled.

She whimpered loudly, unable to deny him. She was too aroused to say no. “Okay,” she whispered.

Continuing to snarl, he pounded into her a few more times, then he gasped loudly and yanked out to come all over her arse. He held her open with one hand as he did it. His seed burned against her skin.

“Hermione,” he whispered, sounding reverent, worshipful, and then he put his mouth on her arsehole, eating her with delight.

She yelled, probably too loudly, afraid someone, somewhere heard her. “Draco, Draco!” she cried.

His tongue was also burning hot as he licked her and licked. Then his fingers found her clit, rubbing with intention, and she orgasmed just as the tip of his tongue managed to penetrate her arse.

After she calmed down, she slumped down in the snow, unable to hold herself up. Behind her, Draco groped her bum and smacked his lips.

“Yum,” he said.

“God, shut up.”

Chuckling, he helped her up and cleaned her and warmed her up with several spells. As he buttoned her clothes, he murmured, “What are you doing tomorrow? On Christmas Day?”

“I’ll be at the Burrow. With the Weasleys.” Her head was still spinning.

He growled. “I want to come with you.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes.”

“But … Charlie will be there … Also Ron …”

“I know. And I want to be there.”

She laughed shakily. “Okay, fine, but you better be on your best behaviour.”

He smiled showing all his teeth. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Draco picked her up the next afternoon. His eyes went wide when he got a glimpse of her. Then they narrowed. Darkly.

“It’s barely after lunch, and you’re wearing that?”

She lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“You look like a—”

“Don’t you dare say it!”

He glowered. He also worked his mouth. It was obvious he was struggling to get himself under control. Finally, he took a deep breath, and gritted out, “Apologies, I’m being an arse.”

“Yes, you are.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I actually want to take you with me. Not with you already acting like that.”

“You’ve got your bloody tits out! And we’re about to see your ex fiance!”

“All the young women will be dressed up! You should see what Fleur has worn in the past—”

“I’m not shagging Fleur.”

Frowning, Hermione left him in the doorway to inspect herself in the hall mirror. Her dress was sexy, yes, but it was also appropriate. It had long sleeves, for Merlin’s sake! And she loved the thing. It was a corset dress in dark red velvet. It had delicate lace trim on the neckline. It was elegant and showed off all her curves.

She turned a little. And it made her arse look stunning.

Draco growled behind her. “Where’s your bloody jumper and trousers from yesterday? Why can’t you wear something like that?”

“I wore those things because we were lounging about your manor, not going to a party!” Sighing, she looked at him. “I’ll take it off. If that’s what you really want.”

“No,” he growled. “I can be a good pup for you. I promise.”

Smiling, she Summoned her purse and went to the door. “I suppose we should Side-Along—”

Draco grabbed her throat and licked her cheek. It wasn’t a quick touch of his tongue, oh no, he dragged it.

“Oi, my makeup!”

He released her with a satisfied chuckle.

“What was that for?!”

“I marked you. So everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re already going to know.” She shut and locked her door, then pulled him closer. “Hang on,” she said, and Disapparated them.

They reappeared in front of the Burrow’s door. Draco looked around with a lifted lip.

Oh, bother, Hermione thought, then knocked.

Molly opened the door. “Hermione!” she cried, yanking her into a hug.

Hermione hugged her back tightly. “Hello! Happy Christmas!”

“I’m so glad to see you!” Molly drew back to take in her outfit. “And look how lovely you are dressed! Is that velvet?!”

“Yes! Do you like how the bodice is corseted?”

“I do! Oh, you look just stunning!” She gave Hermione another hug, then turned her attention to Draco.

Draco surprised them both by smiling brightly and reaching out to take Molly’s hand. “Happy Christmas, Mrs Weasley.” He brushed his lips against her hand.

Molly went pink. “Oh, dear. What manners you’ve got. Come in, come in! Do you care for eggnog, Mr Malfoy?”

He laughed charmingly as they stepped into the cramped foyer. “Yes, I do, but wait a tick. I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?”

Nodding, Draco drew out an enormous bouquet of winter roses from his coat. He handed it to Molly. “For you, Mrs Weasley. Thank you for allowing me to join your family today.”

“Oh, you must call me Molly,” she gushed, utterly admiring the roses.

“Then you must call me Draco.”

Molly beamed at him. “I’ll get you that eggnog. Are you hungry? I’ve got our Christmas goose roasting over the fire. It should be ready soon, but we have other things to eat—”

“No, just the eggnog would be brilliant. Thank you.”

Still so flushed, Molly rushed into the kitchen.

“Wow,” Hermione whispered as he took off his coat. “Even I’m a little flustered over here.”

He pressed closer. “It’s all for you,” he whispered back. “Don’t forget it.”

Shuddering a little, she grabbed his hand. “Come on, love. It’s time to meet the rest of them.”

They walked into the main lounge, which was still rather tight. Especially when the entire Weasley family was present. Like it was today. (Well, almost all of them were there. Bill was at home with a cold.)

The joyful chatter seemed to quiet down when the family noticed them.

Beaming, Hermione looked around the room. Her mouth dropped open when she spotted Harry—and Marcus. Trying not to squeal, she rushed over, dragging Draco with her.

“You brought him!” she cried excitedly.

Harry beamed, too. “I did, I did! And I introduced him as my boyfriend.”

She threw herself into his arms, hugging him happily. “Oh, Harry. Congratulations! It’s so wonderful!” She pulled back to hug Marcus too, who froze up a bit.

When she released Marcus, she found Harry and Draco glowering at each other.

“Always the bloody show off, aren’t you?” Harry growled, eyeing the winter roses on the table.

“It’s called having grace, Potter. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Or maybe I should just punch you in the nose and be done with it.”

Draco took an intimidating step closer. “Just try it,” he whispered heatedly. “I dare you.”

“Merlin, did it suddenly get hot in here or is it just me?” Hermione asked, fanning herself.

“What?” snapped both men in unison. They were giving her livid glares.

She smiled innocently at them.

“Here you go, dears,” Molly said, reappearing with their eggnog.

“Thank you!” Hermione sipped from her festive goblet. “It tastes brilliant like always.”

Draco had a sip, too. “You know, this might be the best eggnog I’ve ever had.”

“Suck up,” Harry coughed under his breath.

Draco turned very slowly to look at him. He gave Harry a vicious smile. “Say. It. Again.”

“Well, then,” Molly said. “You boys have fun!” She rushed off.

Hermione moved away, too. She was giggling to herself, but all her humour bled away when she caught sight of Charlie. He was just standing there. Looking at her. He was wearing dark ripped jeans and a rough jumper that made his blue eyes pop. His ginger hair was longer, too. He had a few curling strands tucked behind his ears.

She walked forward, feeling as if she were pulled by a magnet. “You’ve got more piercings,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “In your ears, I mean.”

He smiled at her, his eyes looking sad. “I’ve also got more tattoos. You should see the one on my shoulder—Oh, hullo, Malfoy.”

Malfoy suddenly loomed behind her. He rested his hands on her arms. “Hello, Weasley,” he said darkly.

Charlie looked amused. “Do you even know my name?”

“Yes. Charlie. You were engaged to Hermione.”

Charlie looked back at her, his expression unreadable. “Yes, I was.”

“It was several years ago,” she said quickly. “We’ve both moved on.”

“It will be three years this February,” Charlie murmured, still looking at her.

“Oh, right. You broke up with me right before Valentine’s Day. How could I forget?”

Charlie flinched and turned his head away. Draco took the opportunity to politely but firmly guide her to another group.

“Ah, Percy, it’s good to see you again,” Draco said, shaking the other man’s hand.

“Yes, yes!” Percy said excitedly. “We don’t see each other in the canteen anymore, do we? It’s been ages!”

“I’ve been rather busy, unfortunately.”

“Yes, me too.” Percy grinned at her and gave her an awkward shake of the hand, too. “Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

“Yes, Happy Christmas,” she said, saying it to his wife as well.

As Draco and Percy chatted about their Ministry work, Hermione let herself glance back at Charlie, who was still observing her. She looked away nervously and caught sight of Ron standing next to a rather petite blonde.

Are you fucking kidding me? Ron mouthed to Hermione.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to Percy and his wife.

“How is your brewing coming along?” Audrey asked brightly.

“Rather well, I think,” she said, smiling. “Business is booming, as they say.”

“Hermione’s a marvelous potioneer,” Draco said. “Her skill just astounds me.”

She blushed. “Thank you, darling.”

“I wish I could brew,” Audrey said. “It would really save me loads of money. Especially because our little ones keep getting the sniffles.”

“Oh, no!” Hermione said. “Well, come around sometime. I’m sure I can sell you a bundle of potions for cheap.”

Percy was eyeing Hermione and Draco. “Pardon me, but I’m quite shocked to see you together. I think the whole family is.”

Draco grinned toothily. “Yes. Well. I’ve been in love with her for ages.”

“How romantic,” sighed Audrey.

Percy frowned and Hermione tried to hide her deepening blush.

The family came together then. The adults played a few rounds of Charades (limit one spell per go) while the children played Pin the Mole on the Hag.

Draco and Hermione sat close during the activities, and Draco even yelled out more than a few guesses. Hermione allowed herself to relax—sort of. Charlie and Ron were still giving her unhappy looks.

After the games, everyone gathered in the cramped kitchen for an early dinner. Arthur did the honour of cutting the Christmas goose. Rather unfortunately, Hermione was sat right across from Charlie, who did nothing to hide the fact that he was staring at her.

Underneath the table, Draco grabbed her thigh. Tightly.

“It’s okay,” she murmured in his ear.

In response, Draco gave her a very charming smile. His eyes were hot, though. Almost smouldering.

As the family dug into their food, a low wailing came from the wall. Draco and Marcus stiffened in their chairs.

“What is that noise?” Draco asked under his breath.

“It’s the family ghoul,” Hermione whispered back. “I think he’s attempting to sing along to the wireless. Don’t mind it.”

Draco just gave her a bewildered look.

Arthur tapped his fork against his wine glass and stood up. “I would just like to say a few words while everyone is enjoying Molly’s brilliant cooking.” Pausing, he beamed around the room. “Thank you to all for joining Molly and I for Christmas dinner. We love hosting family and friends, and your presence makes us very happy.”

“Even my presence, Dad?” George called out a bit drunkenly.

Everyone shared a good laugh.

Arthur raised his wine glass to Marcus, then Draco. “And welcome to our newcomers. We hope you enjoy yourselves and we hope to see you next year. Molly and I wish you the best, especially to Harry and Marcus, who made a big step today by coming here as a couple. Thank you for trusting us enough to do so. We are honoured.”

Harry blinked back tears while Marcus squirmed in his chair.

“Hear, hear!” called Charlie.

The whole table started clapping. Even Draco, who rolled his eyes just a little. Harry rolled his eyes back at him.

Later, as Arthur drew Draco into a complicated conversation about Ministry politics, Hermione did her best to focus on her plate and not on Charlie. Who wouldn’t stop staring. Yes, maybe the dress had been a bad idea …

Sighing, Hermione stood to go to the bathroom. Draco frowned up at her.

Toilet, she mouthed, then disappeared into the hallway. She was almost to the bathroom when Ron intercepted her.

“Did you know Harry was dating bloody Marcus Flint?” he cried.

“Yes, I did.”

Ron looked hurt. “What?! For how long?”

“Two years, I believe.”

“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Why didn’t he tell me, too?!”

“I don’t know, Ronald. You should ask him yourself.” She tried to slip around him, but he grabbed her arm.

“And you. Shagging Draco Malfoy! What are you even thinking?!”

She yanked out of his grasp. “I fancy him, Ronald. That’s all you need to know.”

“When are you going to stop calling me Ronald?”

“Never,” she said, and escaped to the bathroom.

After she was done, she slipped back into the hallway and gave a start. Charlie was just standing there.

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Did you need the toilet?”

“No, I need to speak to you.”

“Um. Why?”

He gave her a nervous smile. “How about you step outside with me? Just for a moment. I’ll make sure to cast my Warming Charms on you.”

Shaking her head, she was able to slip around him, but he followed her closely.

“Please, don’t,” she said, hastening her steps.

“Come into the lounge, then. No one’s there—”

“Charlie.”

“Please. Just for a moment.”

Sighing, she followed him into the lounge, which was in fact empty. Loud laughter came from the kitchen. The rest of the family were having a lovely time in there.

Hermione hovered by the fire, doing her best not to be anxious. “What do you need to say to me?”

Charlie stood close. His eyes were dark as he gazed down at her. “I made a mistake.”

She stared up at him. “What?”

“About you and me. I made a mistake.”

Her mouth dropped open. It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water all over her. For a long moment, she was absolutely speechless.

“Please, Hermione. Just listen to me. I came back to England fully intending to reach out to you. To try to make amends. To apologise. I was hoping we could pick up where we left off—”

She stumbled back, finally finding her voice. “How dare you?” she hissed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You broke up with me! When I was wearing your ring! When I was beginning to plan our wedding—”

“I know, I know. And I’m so fucking sorry, I am. But I just need you to know that I still love you.” He tried to put his hands on her then, but she escaped out of his reach.

“I’m with Draco now! How dare you? I’m finally in another relationship—I finally found another man who makes me happy—and you bloody corner me and beg me to take you back?! On Christmas?”

“I haven’t begged,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Weasley,” growled a voice from the doorway.

Both Hermione and Charlie jumped. It was Draco. Of course it was.

“This has nothing to do with you, Malfoy,” Charlie said in a deeper voice than he was using with Hermione.

Draco was motionless. His eyes glittered dangerously, though. “None. Of. My. Business?” he said softly.

“Yes! I’m speaking to Hermione, not you. We were engaged, Malfoy. We were together for years. And now I’m speaking to her. Alone.” The back of Charlie’s neck was flushed red.

Malfoy laughed quietly, not a drop of humour on his face. He eased his wand from his hidden holster, not taking his eyes off Charlie.

“Draco,” Hermione gasped.

“What do you intend to do?” Charlie said, sounding incredulous. “Duel me?”

With a flick of his wand, Draco dragged Charlie across the room to him. He grabbed Charlie by his jumper. “You’re going to join me outside. Now.”

Charlie laughed, yanking at his hold. “Are you mad? I’m not fighting you.”

“You don’t need to fight me. You don’t need to do a damn thing. But I’ll be beating your face in.”

Draco yanked him hard, forcing Charlie to stumble forward. Charlie laughed again, now breathless.

“Let go of me!”

“No.”

Charlie tried to wrestle out of his grasp, but Draco snarled and shoved him up against the wall. He leaned in menacingly, their noses almost brushing.

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Careful, Malfoy. You might make me like this.”

Draco punched him. Hard. Then it was a full on fight, with both of them throwing punches.

Hermione cried out and jumped forward. I can’t believe this is happening! she thought wildly.

The rest of the family heard the ruckus. Several people ran out from the kitchen.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” cried Harry.

“HE ATTACKED ME!” yelled Charlie, blocking a blow.

“SHUT UP! HOW DARE YOU PROPOSITION HER! MY MATE!”

Harry and Hermione acted at the same time, their spells throwing both men backwards.

Hermione rushed to Draco, kneeling down. His eyebrow was bleeding. “Oh, love,” she cried.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I couldn’t—How dare he—”

“Oh, Draco, oh, baby. I’m so sorry you had to hear that.” She helped ease him to his feet, then grabbed his hand and urged him down the dark hall to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, she closed and locked the door, then wet a flannel at the tap. He allowed her to clean the blood off his face, then he grabbed her and took her to the floor.

“Don’t you dare!” she gasped.

“I need you, I need you,” he said, almost crying. “I need to mark my claim.”

“Yes, okay, but you must be quick about it!” She yanked down what she could of her bodice, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were hard. She was aroused.

Draco yanked at his fastenings, then he was wanking himself furiously. “I love you, I love you,” he gasped. He was already so hard, his tip drooling precome.

“Muffliato!” she whispered urgently, realising he was about to come loudly.

He got in only a few more strokes before he shouted and came all over her. Hot seed landed on her breasts, even splattering. She leaned in so some of it hit her in the face.

“Merlin,” he gasped, shuddering hard. A few tears rolled down his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her hands caressing him.

“I can’t lose you,” he cried softly, trying to remain in control. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“It’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m so sorry. I had no idea, Draco. I really didn’t. I want you. No one else.”

Still shuddering, he pinned her down to lick up all his release, his tongue dragging. He reached between her thighs to get her off, too.

“No,” she said, grabbing his wrist. “Not here.”

He withdrew his hand, respecting her wishes, but he still continued to lick her, leaving his saliva all over her.

A few minutes later, they re-emerged from the bathroom. They were cleaned up and put back together.

The family was waiting for them in the lounge. Molly jumped up.

“We’re so sorry for Charlie’s behaviour,” she said anxiously.

Draco managed an empty smile. “I lost my cool, too. I apologise. I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

“It was hilarious,” George piped from the settee. “I’d pay good money to see you both go at each other again. We can throw in Ron as well. As target practice.”

“Oi!” Ron yelled from a corner.

Charlie sat by the fire, his head buried in his hands. He didn’t look up as he said, “I’m sorry. To the both of you. I crossed a line.”

Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We shall be going now. Thank you for such a lovely Christmas. The food was brilliant. So was the company. For the most part.”

“Yes, thank you. For inviting me into your home.” Draco said this sincerely.

Molly helped them back to the front door. “Again, we’re embarrassed for how Charlie acted. Truly, Draco. I know I raised him better.”

Draco gave her another empty smile. “I hope you enjoy the roses. Happy Christmas.”

She patted his cheek, then gave Hermione a big hug. “Charlie was out of line for what he did. Everyone thinks so. We all know he’s the one who ended things with you. Now he needs to sleep in the bed he made. I just don’t know what my son was thinking!”

Hermione was rather touched. It even made her tear up a little. This was the same woman who had sent her a Howler because she thought pre-teen Hermione was breaking Harry’s heart.

“Thank you, Molly. I appreciate you saying so. Truly.”

Hermione and Draco left, then she Disapparated them back to her cottage. They barely made it into her foyer before Draco shoved her up against the wall and mounted her.

“Yes!” she cried out, burying her nails into his coat.

He utterly pounded her, snarling in her ear. Her dress was ripped, her knickers dangling from an ankle, but she yanked him closer, needing him, needing him.

“You’re mine, you’re mine!” he cried.

“Yes, darling!”

“I need to come inside. Please, Please. Let me, let me—”

“Yes, do it. Fill me up. Oh, Draco. I need you.”

Draco howled as he emptied himself inside her. She had taken her potion that day, but she didn’t mention it to him. She barely wanted to remember it herself.

One day, her mate would put a baby in her.

Chapter Text

It was Boxing Day, and Hermione and Draco were lounging about in her bed. He hadn’t spent the night, instead returning to his manor to check up on things, but he’d come back just as Hermione was settling into her morning tea.

“I would like to read,” she said, feeling a bit guilty, but it was the truth. She really wanted to dig back into her fantasy book.

“All right,” he said, smiling. “I’ll read with you.”

“You don’t mind?”

He shrugged. “I like reading—as you know. And I just want to be with you. Whatever you are doing.”

“Hmm,” she said.

So that was how they’d ended up in her bed, both with books open up in their laps, reading in silence.

The plot of her big book was getting good, finally, after several hundred pages. She pressed a fist to her mouth as her eyes zoomed over the lines. The main character had been imprisoned for a murder he hadn’t committed, and the fate of his entire kingdom rested on his shoulders, and he needed to use his magic to escape but he was heartbroken and his magic wasn’t working, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, and the executioner had arrived. The evil king on the throne, who happened to be his father (the main character didn’t know this), had expedited his punishment, and there was no one there to save him—

A warm hand brushed the back of Hermione’s neck. The touch made her look up. For a moment, she didn’t remember why Draco was in bed next to her.

“You’re so adorable like this,” he murmured fondly.

“What?”

“You’re vibrating with excitement right now, and you’ve let out a few squeaks—”

She frowned in embarrassment. She held up the book. “Do you see all these pages? Yes? That’s how long I’ve waited for this scene! And it’s so good, and I’m so scared for Aradon.”

“Who is Aradon?”

“The main character! He’s a street rat who came into a powerful magical inheritance, but it has to be a secret! Only royalty can have magical powers, you see. And everyone is rather confused as to how Aradon got these powers!”

“How did he get them? Do you know?”

“It’s awful, Draco. He got them because the king raped his mother, which, you know, isn’t that surprising because the man is the villain, and he usually kills the women he uses for sex, but Aradon’s mum got away—”

“Merlin!”

“I know! And it’s so sad, because she got away and was able to have Aradon, but then she died from this magical plague that the Gods foretold about and probably only Aradon will be able to stop—but the king won’t let him.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t know! Plot reasons? Hopefully it’s explained later on. But, anyway, all this isn’t the worst of it! Aradon fell in love with this woman he met in the forest, and she turned out to be, like, a Succubus or whatever. She’s been feeding off his magical powers, depleting him right when the king started sending assassins after him, and Aradon knew this but he was in love with her and just couldn’t stay away!”

“What a bitch.”

“I mean, yes, but also she’s a Succubus! She can’t help her nature! And she does really love him, you can tell. I’m just hoping she finds a way to, like, fight her hunger or whatever. And she needs to come save him before the executioner gets him!”

Draco rolled on top of her and kissed her. He was hard.

“Hey!”

Smiling, he kissed down her throat, sucking on the tender skin there. “Listening to you talk about books makes me so hot for you.”

“I’ve lost my spot—”

Draco shoved their books out of the way and kissed her again, rolling his hips, letting her feel how aroused he already was for her.

She moaned and arched up.

He shoved down the strap on her pyjama top to take her nipple into his mouth. He sucked it hungrily.

“Ohh,” she cooed, her fingers burying in his hair.

“Are you sure you want to continue reading …? I smell how wet I’m making you …”

She laughed hotly. “You’ve properly distracted me.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, and turned his attention to her other breast. As he sucked her, he reached down to pet her between the thighs.

She widened her legs for him eagerly.

“You know what I’d like to do?” he murmured.

“What?”

“I’d like to fuck you in your arse.”

“And knot me?”

“Naturally.”

She shook her head, aghast. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that level of pain.”

He hummed and continued to pet her cunt. “I think I could get you to enjoy it. Haven’t I proven my skill to you?”

“Yes, but it’s my arse.”

He rested his chin on her stomach and tweaked one of her nipples with his fingers. “What do I need to do to get you to say yes? I can’t stop thinking about it, love. I want to squeeze my massive doggy cock up your tight little hole—”

“You first.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“You first.”

“Again, I’m not—Oh. You want to bugger me.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying not to giggle too much.

He sat up straight. “I’ll let you bugger me if it means I can do the same to you. I’ll do anything.”

Now she clapped her hands over her whole face. She moaned, mortified. “I know,” she whispered. “I think I want to do it, but it’s rather overwhelming.”

“Let’s forget it then and just focus on me giving you an orgasm—anally.” He eased her hands away so he could stare into her eyes. “You wouldn’t need to do a single thing, baby. Just turn over and give me your hole. I’ll do the rest.”

“Can we just … experiment? I’ve got a lot of quality lube, and a good collection of smaller vibrators, and—I dunno. Let’s just see if I can manage to do it properly.”

“If?” he growled. “It’s my arse we’re talking about here!”

She burst into another round of giggles. He sighed.

She slipped out of bed and went to her cupboard, where she found her sex toys and the phials of special lube she had brewed herself.

Blushing hotly, she brought it all back to Draco to inspect.

He picked up a gigantic silicone cock and raised his brows. “Absolutely not,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and snatched it away from him. “I think it’s rather rich of you to expect me to take your massive prick—with a knot—but you won’t do the same for me.”

He paled considerably.

Smirking, she sent all the bigger toys back to her cupboard, leaving the rather tiny ones. “Okay, what about this one?” she said, offering up one that was small and metal and only vaguely phallic.

He gulped. “Okay.”

“Brilliant! What sort of lube do you want to use? I’ve got ones that make you tingle, and ones that start cold then turn hot, and—”

“You’re a rather naughty girl when you masturbate, aren’t you?”

She caught his eye. “Who says I use these only when I’m alone?”

He bared his teeth. “Don’t continue. I can’t handle knowing anything more.”

Nodding, she put all the other items away, then came back to the bed. “Well. Undress.”

He didn’t move right away. He was glowering.

She sighed. “Do you really not want to do it? We can just forget about this whole anal business and you can fuck my fanny—and only my fanny—”

Snarling, he began to tear off his clothes. “You get naked too, damnit!”

Unable to hide her wide smile, she did what he requested—sort of. She kept her knickers on. Then she crawled onto the bed. “Spread your legs now. I need room.”

His glower intensified. “I’m going to punish you for this.”

She smiled. “Spread them.”

Glaring up at the ceiling, he spread his massive thighs for her. Even though he was throwing a fit about it, a hot flush was already trailing down his chest and his cock had hardened up even more.

“Have you ever performed a Cleaning Charm on yourself? I mean—internally?”

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. “I plead the fifth,” he growled.

She laughed. “Point taken.” Then, biting her lip, she touched his hole with her fingertips and muttered, “Scourgify Culus.”

His eyes went wide.

“Did that feel good?” she cooed.

“Fuck. You.”

She laughed again.

Then she got her fingers wet with a copious amount of lube.

“How long are your nails?” he asked worriedly.

“Not too long. I promise to be very careful.”

Watching his face closely, she massaged his hole with her fingertip, letting him get used to the feeling. Her head spun a bit. She was forgetting to breathe.

I can’t believe my own nerve, she thought as she eased her finger inside him. He was so bloody warm and velvety on the inside.

He didn’t make a sound, but his eyes were twisted closed.

She moved her finger in and out so carefully, probably more carefully than he’d ever be with her, and she curled her touch upward, massaging, seeking out his prostate. She knew she found it when his eyes popped open.

“There it is,” she cooed.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned deeply, his head falling back, his thighs falling open.

She continued to stimulate him. His cock gave a desperate jerk. His precome was making a terrible mess on his stomach.

“Do you like that, baby?” she cooed.

“I fucking hate you.”

Another laugh. This time, it was rather breathless. “What a bad little pup you’re being. Lying to me.”

He was biting his lip hard. He worked his hips just a little.

“Oh, do you want more?” She leaned down to suckle his cockhead as she eased in a second finger.

He howled and spurted so much precome she thought he was orgasming.

As she worked over his internal nub, she took him deeper into her mouth, sucking softly.

His hands shot to her head. He held her down and thrust up, snarling, but she ripped away.

“Not your turn,” she growled, and Summoned her wand. Using a few spells, she pinned his wrists to her headboard and stacked several pillows beneath his head and shoulders for his comfort.

He gaped at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“This,” she murmured, and massaged his prostate firmly.

His eyes rolled back. He moaned.

She had to clap a hand over her mouth again. She was giggling again.

“Don’t laugh at me!” he urged.

“I’m sorry, I’m just giddy. I can’t help it.”

“You’re being a bitch.”

“Am I?” she cooed, pressing even harder on his little nub.

He started panting. He was popping a knot.

“Oh, how yummy,” she murmured, ducking her head to suck on his swelling base. She milked his prostate as she did it.

He howled again and writhed against the bed. He liked it so much that he was kicking his feet.

She was so turned on, so overwhelmed by the power she had in the moment, that she tipped her head back and laughed joyfully.

“You bitch, you bitch, you bitch!” He banged his wrists against the board.

“Merlin, you’re whinging.” She eased her fingers out of him and took off her soaked knickers, and she shoved them into his mouth.

His eyes went wide, so wide; but then he started sucking them.

“Such a good boy,” she murmured, carding her fingers through his lovely hair.

He growled unhappily.

She picked up the little vibrator and spread even more lube onto it. He was going to be so slick down there that she wondered if he would even feel the penetration.

She turned the vibrator on and rotated its tip against his hole. He writhed again.

Then she eased it into his arse. She pressed up as she did it, making sure it vibrated against his prostate.

He shouted through the knickers.

“Are you going to come?” she cooed, now fucking him with it.

His eyes rolled back, over and over. He writhed, kicking his feet again, his hips thrusting up and then thrusting down. He was trying to fuck himself on the vibrator, and it was so hot.

She went back to sucking on his knot, and it was so swollen for her, so ready for a hole to plug up, and she tormented his prostate with the vibrator as she did it.

He cried out, muffled, his muscles all contracting, and he erupted all over himself. And her. She let his seed splatter her face. She felt how his knot went so thick against her tongue as he peaked.

When she finally raised up, she found him comatose, his mouth hanging open with her knickers on his chest, and his eyes fluttering in sleep. He was even snoring a little.

Smiling in triumph, she cleaned him with a few spells and released his wrists. He curled over with a murmured sigh and continued to sleep, his blond hair all mussed.

She took the opportunity to dash to the bathroom. She had a rather lot of things to do to prepare her arse for him.

When she emerged from her bathroom, her arse hairless and squeaky clean, she found him looming in her hallway. He had been waiting for her.

“It’s time for your punishment,” he growled.

She inched closer. “Are you sore? Do you need a Healing Spell?”

“Get over here. Now.”

“Are you sure? My Healing Spells are rather good, I promise.”

He went after her, and she yelped and darted for the stairs. He chased after her, and she sprinted, losing her towel in the process.

Laughing, she made it to her lounge before he captured her, raising her up off her feet.

“You bitch,” he snarled, just letting her dangle in the air.

She laughed again, squirming in his arms. “What do you mean to do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m too enraged to decide.”

“You loved it!”

“We will never speak of it again! Do you hear me?”

“Does that mean I can’t tell Harry?”

He dropped her with a furious roar. She landed inelegantly and tried to lurch away, but he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back.

“Ouch!”

“Who’s whinging now?” he snarled.

“God, you are being ridiculous! I made you come so hard! I made your knot get so thick.”

He grabbed her by the throat and urged her upright. He gave her a filthy kiss.

“You’re magnificent,” he murmured softly.

“I am?”

“Oh, yes. My Hermione, my mate. So powerful. So competent. I knew I’d have my hands full with you. I suppose I like the challenge of it. We both do. The wolf and I wanted to work for our dominance.”

“Will I ever be able to meet this wolf?”

“Perhaps,” he said, his beautiful eyes smouldering, “if you are good.”

“And what will this wolf do when he meets me?”

He bared his teeth. “Outside of potentially mauling you?”

“Yes.”

“He’s going to knot you, of course.”

She moaned so loudly.

Draco shoved her down and yanked her arms behind her back. “It’s only fair if you let me tie you up as well. Incarcerous.”

Ropes bound her wrists together. She moaned again, giving herself over to him.

“Pick a safe word,” he growled.

“Succubus,” she whispered, trembling.

“Use it if you want me to stop. Otherwise, I’m going to keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

He moaned. “Very good.”

Then he lowered down to eat her arse. She gasped and squirmed.

“Fuck, Hermione. You prepared yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes!”

Moaning again, he licked and licked until his tongue managed to penetrate her. The sensation made her cry against the floor. He muttered a Lube Spell, then added a finger, then a second one, thrusting inside, stretching her, and she lurched up, not sure if she wanted to get away or not.

He shoved her back down. “Don’t move.”

He fingerfucked her roughly, making her really feel his knuckles. It was her turn to kick her feet.

“Your sweet little hole is so tight for me,” he groaned.

She thrashed, unable to take the sensation. Then he added a third finger.

She screamed just because she could. She felt so full—and also not full enough.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous like this,” he said, punishing her with his fingers.

“Draco!”

“I’m so hard for you again, baby. Sweetheart. Are you ready for my knot? Are you?”

“No! No!”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said, a pout in his heated voice, “because I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

Draco eased his fingers out and cast another spell for lubrication. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pinning her down, as he pressed his massive cock inside her.

The penetration was brutal. She had never been in so much discomfort during sex. She had also never felt so taken.

He snarled as he filled her up completely. When he was all the way inside, he paused to yank her head back by her hair. He stared down at her with possessive eyes.

“Did Charlie Weasley ever fuck you like this?”

“No!”

He grinned menacingly, then gathered a good amount of spit in his mouth and spat on her face. “No one but me.”

She had no idea being spit on would be so hot, but it was, it was.

Then he pulled back and pounded forward. Hard. Brutally. She lost herself to the pain, to the pleasure.

“PLEASE!” she cried.

“You’re mine, you’re mine!”

“I LOVE YOU!”

“Say it again, damn you. Say it again.”

“I love you!” she sobbed, so taken, so commanded. She would have never allowed anyone else to do this to her. No one else. Only him. Only Draco Malfoy.

“And I’m your mate?” he whispered hoarsely, shuddering all over, his knot swelling.

“YES!”

He pounded forward again and again. He started to cry the closer he drew to orgasm.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Please what?”

“I need your knot. I need your seed. I need you to put a baby in me.”

He found her clit, rubbing it expertly. “No, no, that’s for the wolf to do.”

She cried out and came, her cunt feeling so empty as it spasmed, but she felt how her arse squeezed around his thickening knot, milking it.

He roared and slammed forward one more time. Then he was orgasming as well, his knot utterly ruining her arse, and the sensation made her faint a little.

She had never, ever been so full.

For several minutes, it felt as if she just floated. She was awake, but not. There was an intense pounding in her arse. It was the throbbing of his cock or the ache of her sore muscles—or both.

Draco was crying softly as he held her close. “Thank you for saying it back,” he whispered worshipfully. “Thank you, thank you.”

“I do love you, Draco. I do, I do. And I’m so glad that you are my mate.”

“If only I had known what would get you to say I love you back to me … I would have let you play with my arse ages ago …”

They shared a heated laugh, then a long, luxurious snog, with his strong hand cupping her chin, guiding the movement of their lips.

“Mine,” he whispered.

She nodded tearfully.

She didn’t think she’d ever get over the bliss of them being tied together.

Even if it was in her arse.

Chapter Text

It was New Year’s Eve, and Hermione was at the Manor, getting ready for a Ministry gala. She and Draco were attending as a favour to Harry, who planned to debut his relationship with Marcus publicly. Hermione was glad that she could be there to support Harry, even though neither Draco nor she liked galas.

Hermione was wearing one of the gorgeous dresses Draco had given her for Christmas. It was dark blue, glittery, like a starry night. It had off the shoulder sleeves, with a bit too much princess-like tulle draping from her arms. The skirt was also rather excessive, but she was going to a gala … She supposed such a dress was appropriate attire.

Down in the drawing room, Draco was back in his waistcoat and frock. It made her remember their first date and smile.

“Do you like it?” he asked gruffly, his blond hair pulled back in a neat tail, his face so clean-shaven the skin nearly shone.

She circled him slowly, letting him squirm. “You look like a grand duke who lords over his estate … and also who needs to sack his tailor.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he snapped.

She stopped in front of him and smoothed her hands over his broad chest. “The tight fit makes you look rather burly … rather beastly …”

“Oh. Well. Good.”

They shared a laugh, and Hermione raised up to kiss him. He didn’t need to lean down so much this time. She was wearing rather tall stilettos.

“Are you ready?” he said.

“Yes, I am.”

“And are Potter and Marcus still meeting us in the atrium?”

“Yep.”

“Brilliant,” he said, showing all his sharp teeth.

They left the drawing room to walk to the Manor’s entrance. Like always, the portraits were murmuring to themselves.

“I confess I think the Mudblood looks good tonight.”

“They make a fine couple—mostly because of our heir, but, nonetheless, still a fine couple.”

She had learned to block them out. Most of the time.

Outside, their carriage waited. Pitts bowed low and opened the door for them.

“Good evening,” Draco said to his house-elf.

“Good evening, Master!”

As Hermione stepped into the carriage, she said brightly, “Thank you, Mr Pitts!”

The elf glowered and slammed the door shut.

“He still doesn’t care for me, does he?” she sighed.

“They know you are knitting little winter caps for them,” Draco said, curling an arm around her.

“Yes, well … I’m not forcing them to accept the caps! It’s their own business whether or not they want to accept their freedom.”

He sighed too and pulled her closer. He smelled wonderfully of dark leather and soft floral.

The carriage took off, and Draco spent the relatively short ride nibbling just behind her ear.

“Am I making you wet?” he murmured.

“Yes, you fiend,” she said, trying not to squirm too much. “How am I supposed to attend this gala now? Appropriately?”

He licked her ear. “Easily. No one needs to know your knickers are soaked.”

She groaned.

They landed right in the Ministry atrium. An elegant footman opened the carriage door and helped Hermione out.

Then she spotted Harry and Marcus, dressed up in all their finery, and she did her best not to squeal. She just loved seeing them together. And they were holding hands.

Hermione charged across the atrium toward them, too excited to see if Draco followed or not. Harry caught her, gathering her up in his arms, and they laughed joyfully as he swung her around.

Draco and Marcus shared a dull look. Gryffindors, it said.

Harry put her down. “Can you believe it?!”

“No, oh my god, Harry, this is amazing!”

“We’ve already had our picture taken! And I’m pretty sure Rita Skeeter caught me kissing Marcus on the cheek …”

“That Skeeter woman is here?” Hermione asked, peering around with narrowed eyes. She might just have to find another jar for her …

“Yes, but she will play right into our hands,” Harry said with a grin.

“I suppose,” Hermione said. She moved back to stand beside Draco, who took her arm into his.

“Good evening,” Draco said affably, surprising both Harry and Hermione.

“Hello,” Harry said. “Uh. Your coat is nice. I reckon blue is your colour.”

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco said. “Both you and Marcus look nice as well.”

Harry beamed as he wrapped his arm around Marcus and gave him a squeeze. Hermione was so happy to see him being publicly affectionate with Marcus that she had to blink back tears.

Marcus blushed a light pink.

“So, are we still going with what we planned?” she asked. “Draco and I walk in first, and then you and Marcus trail in after us?”

“Yep, let’s do it,” Harry said.

“Marcus, are you ready?” she asked gently.

The man nodded, though his dark eyes shone with a suppressed emotion.

Smiling, Hermione looked up at Draco. “Are you ready?”

He gave her a flash of his teeth. “I was born ready. Come on.”

She snorted and allowed him to guide her toward the ballroom. Entrance into the ballroom was a rather formal process. Each person or couple had to give their announcement cards to the doormen, then wait for their arrival to be called out before stepping into the room.

This moment wasn’t about Hermione and Draco, but she still felt apprehensive as they waited for their names to be read aloud. They were also debuting as a couple tonight.

“Announcing Auror Draco L. Malfoy and his companion, Miss Hermione J. Granger!”

I love you, Draco mouthed to her, before guiding her into the room.

Only a few people looked up at their entrance, and it seemed mostly to be his colleagues. Still, Hermione blushed.

Then Harry and Marcus were announced, as companions, and there were loud gasps in the crowd. It seemed as if the entire ballroom went a bit quiet as Harry and Marcus stepped across the threshold.

Draco, smooth as silk, went up to the couple. “Shall we dance?” he said, ignoring all the staring.

“Yes, let’s,” Harry said with a strained smile.

The four of them went to the dance floor. Everyone seemed to be watching as Marcus led Harry through a gliding waltz. Hermione and Draco stayed close, doing their best to soak up some of the heat.

Hermione was flushed. She was worried about Harry. But Draco was staring down at her with a soft smile.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmured.

Her colour deepened. “Thank you, love.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You may relax; they will be just fine.”

She took his advice and relaxed in his arms. She let herself enjoy the dance. Draco was a lovely dancer—a lovely leader. Her feet knew exactly where to step because of him.

She sneaked a glance at Harry and Marcus, and found them gazing into each other’s eyes. They seemed to be in their own little world, blocking out everything else. Marcus in particular was looking at Harry with intensity. His dark eyes were hot, glittery, and he seemed to already be imagining what he would do to him once they returned home.

“They are lovely for one another,” she sighed. “I don’t think Harry has ever had a better boyfriend than Marcus.”

Draco gave her a dark, naughty look. “I wonder if Potter lets Marcus Spell his wrists to the bed … then laugh at him as Marcus tortures him with pleasure.”

“Oh, hush,” she said. “You loved it.”

“I could have done without the humiliation.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you! I was overwhelmed with giddiness. Because a beautiful man was allowing me to stick a vibrator up his bum. Can you blame a girl for being excited?”

Draco peered around hastily. “Let’s not speak of it anymore. Who knows what Listening Spells are deployed in this room.”

“Good thinking.”

After a few dances, Harry took her aside whilst Draco and Marcus got them drinks.

“How do you feel?!” she said, beaming.

Harry shrugged. “Brilliant, I think. And Marcus is taking all the attention in stride. So far, things have gone rather smoothly.”

“That’s just wonderful!” She wanted to hug him again but refrained.

He grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “How is it going with Malfoy? You seem—Well. You seem in love, to be honest.”

She bit her lip. “I am, Harry. I know it’s a tad mental … but I’m in love with him.”

He laughed a little dryly. “He must be fucking brilliant in bed.”

She blushed. “Well, he is a—you know—”

“Oh, yes. With his special … canine appendage.”

“Exactly.”

Harry whistled softly. “Lucky girl.” Then he took a deep breath. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy. And if you are in love with him and want to be with him, then … I reckon I support it. I must. You are my best friend, Hermione. You are damn near the other half of my heart.”

This time, she couldn’t stop herself from embracing him. “Thank you, thank you. You don’t know what it means to me to hear you say it.”

He gave her a protective squeeze, then released her. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to take Charlie back? After you left, the poor bloke was virtually in tears for the rest of Christmas.”

“Absolutely not. As Molly said, he made his bed and now he must sleep in it. And anyway, I never loved Charlie the way I love Draco. And I come first in Draco’s life, not second or even third. Charlie always had his priorities, didn’t he?”

Harry sighed. “Promise you will come to me if he ever … mistreats you.”

“I promise … but, Harry, he’s not going to mistreat me.”

Harry gazed seriously into her eyes. “Yes, but the wolf might. Just be careful. I love you too much not to worry.”

She nodded.

Later, after they had enjoyed a few flutes of champagne, Harry asked Hermione to dance with him. Just to fuck with the gawkers.

Draco didn’t look pleased about it at all, but he didn’t stop her.

They went out onto the dance floor and had themselves a rather awkward dance. They both weren’t very coordinated, and Harry was shit at leading. They even managed to bump into a few other waltzing couples.

They were both laughing when they returned to the table. Hermione gulped down the rest of her champagne, feeling a little intoxicated, a little loose.

“Come upstairs with me,” Draco murmured hotly in her ear.

She gave him an easy smile. “Okay.”

Upstairs was the balcony that overlooked the ballroom. It was mostly deserted, especially in the corners. Hermione leaned against the granite balusters and peered down at the crowd below.

Behind her, Draco was casting spells. A lot of them. Her ears popped, indicating a Silencing Spell. Then the air around them went a bit wobbly, indicating a Privacy Spell.

“What do you mean—”

He grabbed her and kissed her. Deeply. Possessively. He pressed himself against her, and he was already hard, so hard.

She yanked back with a gasp. “We’re in public.”

“And protected by my trusty spells.”

“What do you want to do to me?”

He grinned darkly. “Mount you, of course.”

She gasped again, her mind slow to comprehend. Then he grabbed her and bent her over the balusters.

“What do you say if you want to stop?” he murmured in her ear, his hands fondling her breasts through the dress.

“Succubus,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” He shoved up her skirt, yanked aside her lacy knickers, and entered her. When had he managed to get his cock out? She didn’t know.

“Don’t knot me!” she gasped.

“Yes, darling,” he said hotly, yanking down her bodice, her breasts popping free.

Then he grabbed her waist and pounded into her with a snarl. She yelled loudly—just to see if anyone looked their way. The music down below was rather loud.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he ordered.

“I’m yours!”

“Forever?”

“Yes, forever, forever!”

“Oh, my darling.” He somehow found it in himself to pound her even harder.

She was moaning, her cunt already fluttering. It was so arousing to be fucked publicly—or sort of publicly. It didn’t seem as if anyone could see them. Well, most couldn’t see them. There was an older gentleman down below who had a Charmed spyglass pressed to his eye. It was trained right on her—and his other hand seemed to be subtly occupied underneath the table.

Was he the only one watching? No, no … There was a young woman. Perhaps a Seer. She had a magical eye that glowed like the moon. She was watching, too. She was watching and squirming in her chair, and her pretty brown skin was taking on a lovely flush …

“Oh my god, I’m going to come!” Hermione cried.

“Touch yourself, my love,” Draco gasped. “Touch yourself and milk my prick with your perfect fanny.”

So, she did, her hand sneaking beneath her skirt. She found her cunt hot and dripping. Her clit was so hard. She felt where his enormous cock was spearing her open.

She rubbed herself and rubbed herself, her fingers getting drenched, as her unfocussed gaze watched both the man and the woman.

“Only you, Draco,” she whispered breathlessly. “Only with you.”

“Good, now come.”

And she did.

Chapter Text

It was another full moon. The Wolf Moon, it was called.

Hermione and Draco were deep in a forest near Wiltshire. It was dusk, the air chilled, the light bruised. Powdery snowflakes fell through the spindly branches.

Draco was panting. He was also very aroused. He seemed to be in pain he was so aroused.

“I never thought the transformation would give you an erection,” she said softly.

“It’s because you’re here. It’s because the wolf wants you so badly.”

She bit her lip and tried not to tremble too much. Fear was coiled low in her stomach. It pulsed. It made her cunt flutter.

In her pocket was a portkey, wrapped in thick linen. She was meant to use it if the wolf lost control.

“Come along, it’s just a bit farther,” Draco said, breathless.

They strode deeper into the quiet forest. Draco wasn’t wearing shoes. His bare feet padded against icy snow and black mud.

Hermione wore a long red cloak. She clutched its hood close to her face. The cloak made her feel like a captured princess in a dark fairytale.

When they made it to a small clearing, Hermione found herself disappointed. She had been expecting more. She had spent weeks researching werewolf mates, which led to research on soulmates.

And that was when Draco had told her.

“This is where I performed the ritual,” he growled, shoulders hunched.

She circled the clearing slowly. At her feet were moonstones. They looked dead, lackluster. They didn’t look like objects that contained powerful magic.

She went to Draco and tried to comfort him, but he stumbled back.

“No,” he gasped. “I—I can’t handle your touch right now.”

The sun was rather close to setting.

She sat down, not caring about getting her cloak dirty. She expected it would be ripped off before the night was done. At least, that was what she hoped.

“Tell me the whole story,” she said. “Please.”

Still panting, he began to pace. The tent in his trousers seemed to lead the way.

“After my first transformation, I began to dream of you.”

“Me? Really?”

“Yes, but I never saw a complete image of you. Only what the wolf valued. It’s not nice or appropriate, but I saw your breasts … your bum … your cunt. I saw myself mounting you. Biting you. Holding you down as I filled you up with my fertile spunk. As the wolf filled you up.”

She was rather warm now. “Wow.”

He made a whimpering noise, his feet stumbling a bit. Then he cleared his throat. “After Astoria left me, I was a lonely man. I didn’t know what I wanted my romantic life to look like. I was too obsessed with my job to prioritise it. I thought maybe I’d be a bachelor for the rest of my life. It got to the point that I think I feared women a bit. They were too much work. And the prospect of falling in love again … of becoming used to a warm cunt again … only for it all to leave me … Well. It was a bit too much to handle. But then I was attacked and became a creature … And, well, the wolf didn’t give me a choice.”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

“For a few years, I was able to hold out. I was. I ached for this woman I dreamed of. I woke up throbbing for her nearly every morning. Sometimes I even came when I was asleep. Like I was a hormonal lad again. Sometimes the need got so great that I had to cast spells on myself when I was at work or else I’d need to run off for a wank every hour. It was that bad.”

“Oh, Draco.” She hurt for him.

“But, then, about a year ago, the wolf started making his way to you. We don’t live that close, but he would spend the full moon just sprinting in the direction of your cottage. And each moon, he got closer and closer. It scared the shit out of me. I was trying to get my hands on proper Wolfsbane, something I could reliably trust, but it was a bloody nightmare. I was so afraid that I wouldn’t be able to control him forever … that one moon I would slip up and he’d finally catch her, and I would wake up next to a woman I had violated—or worse.”

She just watched him gravely.

He took a deep breath, then another. His exhales were smoke. “That’s when I did a bit of research. Like you did. I thought maybe if I learned the identity of this woman then I would be able to warn her … I don’t know. But the ritual broke my resolve. After I did it, I learned that you were my soulmate—and that I didn’t want to live without you.”

She nodded, her eyes pricking with tears.

Shuddering, he stopped his pacing and closed the space between them. He fell to his knees in the snow. His eyes didn’t look human anymore.

“For months, I watched you. I’m sorry for it. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but it was important for me to see you, for me to sate the wolf. I even transformed in your garden. I am so fucking sorry for not warning you first. But the wolf needed to be near you. And … part of me was thinking perhaps I could spend the rest of my life like that. Close to you but still safe. We would be together only in my head. But the woman I watched turned out to be entirely too charming … too enticing for me not to at least give it a go. You have no idea. It took everything I had in me to knock on your door that first day.”

“What—what made me seem so charming?”

He smiled shakily. “You brewed. You read. You chopped your own wood. You liked to laugh. And dance. You were just so lovely to all of your mates, though Potter came around entirely too often. And he stayed for entirely too long. I thought you were fucking him. I did everything I could to smell it in the air, to hear it through your walls. I realised there was no sex happening, no, but he was obviously buttering you up. Perhaps he saw you alone and single, and knew this was finally his chance at seducing the friend he’d been in love with for years and years …”

“Merlin,” she whispered. “I had no idea all of this was carrying on.”

He hung his head. “I know it’s fucked up. I know. But I’m not like other men. I’m a creature now. And it has very particular needs and priorities. I do my fucking best to control them, but sometimes I fail … and that’s the reality of my life. That’s the reality of what it means to be with me.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he gasped, trembling even harder.

The full moon was nearly upon them.

Draco crawled to the centre of the circle. He uncovered a big moonstone. It gleamed darkly. It was also splattered with old blood.

“When I did this alone, I had to virtually mutilate my own palm to get enough blood, but I think it will be easier now that you are here. Now, please, take out the dagger.”

He had asked her to bring along several things. She had assumed the dagger was for protection.

“Please slice your palm. Let the blood drip onto the stone. Then cast, Revelio Mea Aminus. Then, you should spit on the stone. I know, it’s a bit weird, but trust me. Then you say the incantation again. Once you’re done, give me the dagger, because I shall do the same. To strengthen the ritual’s magic.”

She nodded and pressed the point of the dagger to her flesh. She gasped when she cut into her palm. For a moment, she didn’t feel pain, but the blood was wet and dripping.

She pressed her palm to the stone and closed her eyes. She gathered her magical capacity inside her, then said in a strong voice, “Revelio Mea Aminus.” She spat on the stone. “Revelio Mea Aminus.”

Suddenly, all the moonstones lit up in unison. They were multicoloured. They were blazing. The stone beneath her palm was hot.

“My turn,” Draco growled, grabbing the dagger. He cut himself desperately, so much blood dripping from him onto the stone. He growled the incantation, then said, “Your palm, please.”

“My palm …?”

“Give it to me. Please.” His eyes were yellow now. His teeth were becoming fangs.

The light was black and blue. The snowy wind seemed to howl.

Quivering, she gave over her palm. He licked hungrily at her blood. Then he yanked down his trousers and got a hand around his cock. He masturbated desperately.

“Is this really the time?” she gasped.

“It’s for the spell,” he snarled, tonguing her cut, his hand a blur on his reddened prick.

It took him only a few moments to orgasm. His seed splattered the stone, feeding it.

“Revelio Mea Aminus!” he yelled.

Blinding light erupted from every stone. Hermione gasped and fell back, or that was what it felt like. She was no longer in the dark forest. No, she was in another time and place. She was wearing a wedding dress. It looked a bit bohemian. There were flowers in her hair. They matched the foliage hanging from the overhead arbour.

And Draco Malfoy was standing with her, sliding a simple diamond ring on her finger.

“I give myself to you, Hermione Granger,” he murmured as he did it.

Her heart swelled with pure happiness.

The scene shifted, revealing a cosy drawing room. They were in the Manor, the fire crackling merrily, an enormous Christmas tree in the corner.

A family of four sat around the fire. They were playing a children’s game: Hang the Hag.

The family was Hermione, Draco, and their two children. A boy and a girl. And the girl had just won a round of the game.

“Don’t pout, Scorp,” Draco said. “Rosie can win from time to time.”

“Yes, but she’s six and I’m eight, and it’s just embarrassing!” whinged the boy.

Rosie was in the middle of eating a chocolate. She laughed and laughed, showing off a few missing teeth.

Hermione kissed her pouting son. “It’s okay, love. Rosie is rather clever. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m the best! I’m the best!” chanted the girl. “I shall win every time now!”

The boy cried out in dismay, and Hermione and Draco covered their mouths, trying not to outwardly smile.

The scene shifted again, and this time, Hermione and Draco were alone in a moon-licked room. It was a hotel room, a place one went on holiday. The patio doors were thrown open, letting in the sound of splashing waves.

They were much older now, probably empty nesters. They were both a bit pudgier, both a lot more grey. And Draco was making love to her slowly, gently.

“Happy anniversary,” he murmured, his scars and wrinkles nearly obscured in the shadows.

Hermione was crying. “I love you, I love you,” she whispered. “You complete me. You’ve always completed me.”

“Hush, darling,” he whispered. “Don’t make me cry. I’m not sure if I’ll manage a knot if I cry.”

They both shared a laugh. They moaned as he sped up a bit.

Then everything blurred, and Hermione returned to herself. She lay on the icy forest floor, gasping for breath.

“Draco!” she cried, sitting up.

He was away from her, on his hands and knees. He was letting out pained whimpers.

She stood and tried to go to him.

“NO!” he roared.

She paused. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, nothing!” He punched the icy mud. “Just … promise me to use the portkey if anything goes wrong. Don’t try to soothe me. Don’t be stupid. Your Wolfsbane worked last time, but—but—it can’t be a guarantee.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

He managed to raise his face. Fangs were pushing back his lips, but he tried for a smile. “Do you understand now? Why I—I knew. Why I did what I did. We’re mates. Soulmates. And—and we shall make each other very happy. Just stay with me, Hermione. For the rest of our lives.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, aching. “I will. I love you.”

He groaned deeply—savagely. The full moon loomed over them now.

With a howl, he transformed.

She wished she would have witnessed it in slow motion, but the act was too rapid for her eyes to pick up every detail. She saw the elongation of his face, saw how his hands and feet became claws. His clothes tore from his body.

Then the wolf stood before her. It was hunched, not exactly upright, but it balanced itself on its hind legs. Its coat was a pure white, its eyes a radiant amber.

It was snarling at her. Strings of drool dripped from its glinting fangs.

She stumbled back. Its claws were like daggers. And entirely too massive. They could gut her in one swipe.

The wolf prowled forward. His face was too alien to make out any intention.

She retreated again, stumbling, and the wolf howled a warning. The sound made a quiver of terror shoot through her.

I must get away! she thought, and fled.

It chased her through the shadows. Her red cloak bellowed behind her, snagging on crooked things.

It was stupid for her to wear such a long cloak. It was stupid, stupid. She needed to use the portkey. Behind her, the wolf’s feet thundered against the ground.

Then she tripped and fell. She cried out, not thinking. Her wand was in her pocket, but she didn’t go for it.

The wolf was upon her, its claws tearing at her cloak. She thrashed, trying to get away, but all she managed to do was roll to her back.

The wolf snarled down at her. Its breath was hot, earthy. It was quivering from head to toe.

She stared into his amber eyes, trying to see Draco within the depths. She didn’t see him there. She only saw beast.

The claws had enough motor skill to tear off her dress, her underclothes. In retrospect, her outfit was rather stupid. Her lack of trousers had left her chilled to the bone.

“Please,” she gasped, so frightened. She felt where the claws had already cut her.

And what if the wolf bit her? She would become a creature, too.

The wolf sniffed at her face. There were tears trailing down her cheeks. Its hot tongue licked them up.

She gasped again.

The wolf dragged its large snout over her body, sniffing loudly, drooling on her. Then it licked her between the thighs, right on her cunt. With a low growl, it buried its snout between her legs, committing to eating her out. Its tongue didn’t have the aim that Draco had. No, no. And its licks were rather sloppy, rather uncoordinated.

Moaning, she buried her fists in its white fur and arched up. It was so, so dangerous what she was doing. She felt its fangs against the most sensitive part of her.

Without warning, it ripped away and tried to mount her, but it didn’t have the dexterity to guide its cock inside her warm cunt. It whimpered in frustration.

“Poor baby,” she whispered, feeling more than a little mad. She kissed its snout as she reached between them to grasp its shaft. It was long and thick, and so much bigger than Draco’s (which was saying something.) The head of its cock was tapered—like a dog’s. Strings of precome were dripping from it.

I’m really bloody doing this, she thought, stroking the werewolf’s cock. Her hand had never felt smaller.

The wolf howled and pistoned its hips forward. It started panting loudly as if it were already inside her.

“Wait, wait,” she gasped. It took a bit of work to get the angle right. The wolf seemed to sense her intentions and went still, waiting for her to aim him properly.

She lifted up and rolled her hips a bit, as she guided the cock closer. Its tapered tip caught inside her. It howled and slammed forward.

She shouted. The penetration was rough, so rough. Her cunt was now truly, truly, stretched to its utmost limits.

The wolf didn’t pause for her comfort, no, no. It felt the warm clench of her cunt around its cock and went into heat. It fucked her brutally, slamming forward over and over. It panted breathlessly above her. Drool fell on her.

It humped her with the mindless intention of an animal. It only had one goal. And it was to breed her.

All she could do was bury her fists in its fur and hang on. Cold mud cradled her. Part of her wanted to be bred by the wolf. She would give birth to a human child, that much she knew from her research.

The wolf orgasmed in record time. She shouted again when it knotted her. The pain almost made her faint.

It virtually sat on her when they knotted together. She groaned and forced it into a crouch. So much watery come escaped out of her, despite the plug.

“You’re going to crush me,” she gasped.

The wolf licked her face in response.

When the knot deflated, it ripped out of her, and she gasped in pain. Her cunt felt absolutely ruined. Instead of running away, it began to lick her again, sloppily. It was licking up the remnants of its own seed, just as Draco liked to do.

She got a hand on her clit, rubbing. She wanted to orgasm, too. Just as she was peaking, it mounted her again, its hard, wet cock spearing her open in one thrust.

Again, it just used her. It growled and panted, so much heat radiating off its fur. She felt its heavy sac against her arse.

She screamed continuously, so aroused, so overstimulated, so full. She rubbed and rubbed her clit, her cunt so fucking open. When she came, the sensation was so intense that she barely felt it, and she blacked out before the pleasure released her.

When she woke up, she was curled in the cold mud, but the wolf was pressed tightly against her, giving her its warmth. They were snuggling now, the full moon no longer in the sky. Dawn was on the way.

Hermione closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, she lay in Draco’s bed, back in the Manor. He was nude, covered in mud. He was staring down at her.

“You’re probably pregnant now,” he growled quietly.

She bit her lip. “Are you angry?”

“No. Just disappointed. I wanted to marry you before truly knocking you up.”

“How can you be sure?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.” He paused to gaze upon her again. “That was very stupid of you.”

“Yes. But worth it.”

He smiled a little. “I’ve never felt the wolf so at peace. I didn’t know it could feel like this. He’s barely making a peep in my head.”

“I’m glad, Draco,” she said, reaching for him. “You deserve some quiet.”

“Yes,” he whispered, letting her pull him down on top of her.

They kissed and kissed, and he grew heavy between her thighs.

“I saw our wedding day,” she whispered. “And our children.”

“Yes, I saw it, too.”

“I want that future with you, darling.”

His beautiful eyes shone with emotion. They no longer looked cold. “You now understand. I’m so relieved.”

“I love you so much, Draco,” she whispered needily.

“And I love you, Hermione.”

He slid inside her, filling her up perfectly. He kissed her with tenderness.

They were both at home.